Opening Keynote Speech

The Fourth East Asia Conference on Comparative
Literature:
Obsession in Context
Keynote Speeches
Venue: R0101
Opening Keynote Speech
Chi 癡 , pi 癖 , shi 嗜 , hao 好 :
Genealogies of Obsession in Chinese Literature
By Professor Wai‐Yee Li
9:20‐10:20
Closing Keynote Speech
The Obsession to Compare
By Professor Shu‐mei Shih
16:20‐17:20

Chi
,
pi
,
shi
,
hao
:
Genealogies
of
Obsession
in
Chinese
Literature
Wai‐yee
Li
The
word
“obsession”
in
English
is
derived
from
“obsidere,”
to
besiege,
in
Latin.

The
battle
metaphor
persists
from
demonology
to
psychiatry.

An
obsessed
person
is
not
totally
mad—he
recognizes
his
preoccupation
with
the
idée
fixe
as
divergence
from
consensual
norms,
although
he
may
insist
on
celebrating
this
as
salutary.

A
person
may
succumb
to
obsession
as
delusion
while
claiming
to
forge
a
modus
vivendi
providing
escape,
order,
and
coherence.

We
have
here
battles
between
mastery
and
subordination,
self
and
society,
the
obsessing
self
and
the
observing
self.

Do
such
associations
help
us
conceptualize
the
valence
and
meanings
of
words
such
as
chi
and
pi
in
Chinese?

What
would
parallel
histories
based
on
etymology
and
changing
cultural
contexts
yield?

In
the
history
of
Chinese
literature,
chi
and
pi
are
linked
to
aesthetic‐romantic
values
and
the
transformative
powers
of
the
imagination.

Such
implications
are
especially
evident
in
the
Six
Dynasties
and
the
period
from
late
Ming
to
early
Qing,
and
they
have
significant
reverberations
in
the
eighteenth
century
masterpiece
The
Story
of
the
Stone
(Honglou
meng).
Please DO NOT quote without the
I
will
not
venture
into
clinical
definitions
of
obsession
and
will
instead
draw
from
discussions
of
obsession
as
a
social
and
cultural
category.

Historians
and
literary
scholars
typically
use
the
term
“obsession”
in
rather
loose
ways
to
author's permission.
encompass
intense
interest,
fixation,
preoccupation,
in
order
to
comment
on
a
broad
range
of
cultural
phenomena,
even
as
they
boldly
demarcate
defining
moments
in
the
history
of
the
idea.

Lennard
Davis,
for
example,
sees
a
turning
point
in
writings
from
mid‐eighteenth
century
England
and
France:
“Before
that
divide,
some
people
were
seen
either
as
eccentrics,
or
in
a
more
religious
mode
as
‘possessed.’

After
that
time,
the
age
of
obsession
begins
as
a
secular,
medical
phenomenon.” 1 

Marina
van
Zuylen
also
takes
the
historical
roots
of
the
psychiatric
concept
of
monomania,
disseminated
by
Esquirol
and
Etienne‐Jean
Georget
in
the
first
two
decades
of
the
nineteenth
century,
as
the
point
of
departure
for
surveying
the
nineteenth
century
literary
imagination. 2 

Such
identification
of
historical
beginnings
in
the
eighteenth
and
nineteenth
century
sometimes
merges
with
bigger
claims
concerning
the
symbiosis
of
modernity
and
obsession.

Davis,
for
example,
traces
the
confluence
of
medical,
cultural,
and
historical
discourse
and
avers
that
obsession
shares
common
grounds
of
focus
and
repetition
with
other
types
of
intellectual
endeavor
(including
psychoanalysis).

When
the
discussion
shifts
to
cultural
creation,
one
often
encounters
the
implicit
claim
that
self‐division
and
potential
agency
underline
obsession.

Pathological
accounts
of
obsession
presents
the
patient
as
victim
to
1 
Lennard
J.
Davis,
Obsession:
A
History
(Chicago:
The
University
of
Chicago
Press,
2008),
p.
6.
2 
Marina
van
Zuylen,
Monomania
(Ithaca:
Cornell
University
Press,
2005),
p.
3.
1

urges
he
cannot
control,
doomed
to
relentless
repetition
because
of
insatiable
desire
for
a
person,
a
thing,
or
an
activity.

Literary
representations,
however,
often
emphasizes
self‐reflexive
awareness
(attributed
to
the
character,
or
displaced
to
the
narrator
or
the
implied
author)—the
fact
the
fixation
does
not
derange
his
otherwise
sound
mind.

This
entails
minute
distinctions
and
compartmentalization
of
the
mind,
sometimes
presented
as
the
hallmark
of
modernity.

The
obsessing
self
tries
to
banish
the
flux
and
uncertainties
of
existence
in
order
to
forge
its
own
logic
or
system;
the
observing
self
veers
between
validating
this
as
“higher
order”
and
recognizing
it
as
derangement.
When
we
turn
to
the
Chinese
tradition,
the
question
is
not
homology
(i.e.,
whether
comparable
discourses
on
the
mind
exist
as
explanatory
context)
but
what
will
analogous
inquiry
into
etymologies
and
shifting
historical
contexts
yield.

The
Chinese
words
commonly
used
to
translate
“obsession”
are
chi
,
pi
,
shi
,
hao
.

Of
these
shi
and
hao,
indicating
inclination
and
fondness,
appear
quite
frequently
in
early
(pre‐Qin
to
Han)
texts.

Mostly
the
context
is
either
negative
or
regulative.

The
term
shiyu
often
suggests
rampant
desire
that
undermines
ritual
propriety.

In
Zuozhuan
(ca.
4 th 
century
BC),
for
example,
one
ruler’s
obsession
with
cranes
leads
to
disaster:
In
winter,
in
the
twelfth
month,
the
Di
attacked
Wei.
Lord
Yi
of
Wei
was
fond
of
cranes,
and
there
were
cranes
that
rode
in
carriages.

When
they
were
about
to
do
battle
(with
the
Di),
those
from
among
the
inhabitants
of
the
capital
who
had
been
issued
armor
said,
“Send
the
cranes!

If
it
is
the
cranes
who
hold
salary
and
rank,
then
how
can
the
likes
of
us
go
to
fight?”
author's permission.
3
(Zuozhuan
Min
2.5)
Please DO NOT quote without the
Wei
predictably
suffers
a
crushing
defeat.

Personal
preference,
no
matter
how
apparently
harmless,
should
be
subordinate
to
ritual
prescriptions.

We
are
told
in
The
Discourses
of
the
States
(Guoyu,
ca.
3 rd 
cent.
B.C.),
for
example,
that
the
Chu
minister
Qu
Dao
is
partial
to
caltrops,
and
his
deathbed
injunction
to
the
elders
of
his
clan
is
to
have
caltrops
as
sacrificial
offerings
for
him
after
his
death.

The
elders
are
about
to
comply
when
his
son,
Qu
Jian,
asks
to
have
the
caltrops
removed.

He
argues
that
Qu
Dao,
as
chief
minister
of
Chu,
is
identified
with
Chu
laws
and
rules
that
exist
both
in
people’s
hearts
and
in
court
archives,
and
such
precepts
define
ties
both
to
the
past
and
the
future.

He
argues
that
his
father
“would
not
use
his
private
desires
to
interfere
with
the
tenets
of
the
domain” .
(Guoyu,
“Chu
yu”
1.3). 4 

(According
to
proper
ritual,
a
ruler
should
have
as
sacrificial
offering
an
ox;
a
minister,
a
sheep;
a
commoner,
a
fish.)

Teachings
that
focus
on
self‐
3 
Wang
Zhong
,
a
Qing
scholar,
notes
that
giving
the
cranes
a
place
inside
the
imperial
carriage
was
equivalent
to
granting
them
the
rank
and
salary
of
the
marshal
(see
Yang
Bojun
Chunqiu
Zuozhuan
zhu
[Beijing:
Zhonghua,
1990],
p.
265).

Versions
of
this
anecdote
appears
in
various
Warring
States
and
Han
texts.
4 
Xu
Yuangao,
Guoyu
jijie
(Beijing:
Zhonghua,
2002),
p.
488.
2

cultivation
typically
warn
against
excessive
passions
as
the
source
of
disequilibrium.
Thus
Zhuangzi
defines
the
ideal
state
of
being
“without
feelings”
 as
“not
letting
inclinations
and
aversions
injure
one
inside”.

Early
literary
thought,
notably
exegetical
traditions
developing
around
the
Classic
of
Odes,
typically
uphold
the
regulation
of
emotions
and
modulation
of
excesses.

Yet
obsession
seems
to
have
a
potentially
redemptive
twist—perhaps
because
the
mental
focus
and
intensity
behind
it
can
be
theoretically
transferred
to
ethical
norms
or
spiritual
discipline.

Confucius
may
complain
about
the
dearth
of
people
who
“love
virtue” ,
in
comparison
with
the
hordes
that
“love
sensual
beauty”
,
but
the
comparable
mental
act
of
focus
also
promises
a
kind
of
continuity.
Numerous
“knack
stories”
in
Zhuangzi
recount
how
obsession
with
a
skill
leads
to
mastery
that
approximates
the
Way,
such
as
the hunch‐backed
cicada
catcher
who
“is
undivided
in
his
intent,
and
thus
concentrate
his
spirit”
(Zhuangzi,
“Dasheng”).
Whereas
shi
and
hao
signify
desire
without
implying
pathology—since
negative
implications
arise
from
improper
objects
of
desire
rather
than
inheres
in
the
act
of
desiring—chi
and
pi,
words
of
later
provenance,
have
the
“sickness”
(chuang
)
radical.

The
Han
lexicographer
Xu
Shen
(d.
ca.
120)
defines
chi
as
“mental
deficiency”
.

When
the
word
starts
to
appear
in
late
Warring
States
and
Han
texts
(e.g.,
Han
Feizi,
Huainan
zi,
Han
shu,
Lunheng),
its
semantic
range
includes
lunacy,
idiocy,
folly,
and
confusion
(in
compounds
such
as
kuangchi
 yuchi
,
chiwan
). In
Buddhist
writings,
the
word
chi
is
almost
always
associated
with
delusion
and
ignorance.

By
the
Six
Dynasties,
however,
the
word
commands
a
new
author's permission.
range
of
associations,
including
idiosyncrasy,
deep
feelings,
aesthetic
sensibility,
the
gulf
between
self
and
society.

A
pivotal
text
in
this
transformation
is
A
New
Account
of
Tales
of
the
World
(Shishuo
xinyu)
compiled
by
Liu
Yiqing
(403‐444). Several
anecdotes
in
the
text
(8.17,
8.62,
19.15,
23.41,
24.10)
relate
how
a
person
of
talent,
refinement,
or
perspicacity
is
misunderstood
and
labeled
chi,
which
comes
to
imply
“hidden
virtue”
(yinde
)
or
the
quality
of
being
hard
to
fathom
(nance
)
rather
than
simple
folly
or
deficiency.

Chi
is
also
one’s
conviction
of
one’s
genius,
irrespective
of
the
disparagement
of
the
world.

Anecdotes
about
the
artist
Gu
Kaizhi
(ca.
344‐406)
are
illuminating
in
this
regard.
Please DO NOT quote without the
Someone
asked
Gu
Kaizhi:
“How
does
your
‘Poetic
Exposition
on
the
Zither’
compare
to
Ji
Kang’s
‘Poetic
Exposition
on
the
Horizontal
Lute’?”

Gu
said,
“The
unappreciative
ones
dismiss
it
as
a
later
reworking,
yet
the
deeply
discerning
ones
prize
it
for
its
lofty
wonder.”
(SSXY
4.98)
Gu
expects
most
to
deem
his
piece
inferior
to
that
of
his
famous
predecessor
Ji
Kang
(223‐262),
but
also
maintains
that
his
unique
voice
will
appeal
to
the
discerning
few.
In
his
annotations
to
this
entry,
Liu
Jun
(462‐521)
supplies
several
sources
to
augment
this
image
of
the
misunderstood
genius,
further
linking
chi
to
aesthetic
3

vision
and
a
kind
of
monomania.

Thus
The
Book
of
Restoration
(Zhongxing
shu,
5 th
cent.):
“Gu
Kaizhi
had
broad
learning
and
talent.

By
temperament
slow,
he
yet
had
great
self‐regard.

At
the
time
people
laughed
at
him.”
爲 The
Treatise
on
Letters
(Wenzhang
zhi)
sponsored
by
Emperor
Ming
of
Song
(r.
465‐472)
quotes
Huan
Wen’s
judgment
that
Gu
combines
“folly
and
cleverness
by
halves”
and
notes:
“People
say
that
Gu
has
‘three
supreme
talents’:
supreme
painting,
supreme
writing,
supreme
folly.”
Sequel
to
Jin
History
(Xu
Jin
yangqiu,
5 th 
cent.)
supplies
another
anecdote:
“When
he
was
cavalier
attendant,
his
office
was
next
to
that
of
Xie
Zhan.

He
once
intoned
drawn‐out
rhymes
under
the
moon,
confident
of
being
akin
to
the
worthy
ancients.

Xie
Zhan
applauded
him
from
afar,
and
Gu,
being
thus
encouraged,
applied
himself
even
more
and
forgot
fatigue.

Xie
was
about
to
fall
asleep,
and
asked
the
man
massaging
his
legs
to
take
his
place.

Gu
did
not
notice
the
difference,
and
thus
persisted
until
it
was
almost
dawn.”
 爲
In
the
last
anecdote,
Gu
is
the
victim
of
a
joke,
but
he
may
also
claim
the
glory
of
absorption
in
his
poetic
creation.

In
an
analogous
story
from
Sequel
to
Jin
History,
Gu’s
gullibility
can
also
be
regarded
as
a
way
to
mythologize
his
art:
“Gu
Kaizhi
was
Please
especially
fond
of
painting,
and
his
art
was
peerless
in
his
era.

He
once
sent
a
DO NOT quote without the
cabinet
of
his
paintings
to
Huan
Xuan.

They
were
all
his
finest
and
he
deeply
treasured
them.

He
sealed
and
inscribed
the
opening
panel
of
the
cabinet.

Huan
then
opened
it
from
the
back,
took
out
the
paintings,
and
repaired
it
carefully.

When
author's permission.
Gu
saw
that
the
seal
and
the
inscription
were
intact
but
the
paintings
were
gone,
he
simply
said,
‘These
wonderful
paintings
attained
spirituality
and
were
gone
upon
transformation,
just
in
the
way
humans
ascend
as
immortals.’”
厨 厨
(cited
by
Liu
Jun
in
SSXY
21.7).

Other
stories
about
Gu’s
“spiritualization”
of
his
paintings
and
his
belief
in
their
magical
potency
point
to
the
same
logic.
Total
absorption
in
one’s
artistic
powers
is
a
kind
of
obsession.

It
is
no
accident
that
the
Six
Dynasties,
often
said
to
mark
the
rise
of
aesthetic
selfconsciousness
and
heightened
awareness
of
different
mental
and
emotive
faculties,
should
also
see
the
rise
of
anecdotes
about
obsessions.

The
word
pi,
first
used
in
Ge
Hong’s
(284‐364)
Baopu
zi
to
refer
to
the
accumulation
of
phlegm
because
of
excessive
drinking
(j.
13.223),
comes
to
mean
obsession
by
the
fourth
century: 5
Wang
Ji
excelled
in
understanding
horses.

He
once
rode
a
horse
decked
out
with
patterned
leg‐shields.

With
a
river
in
front,
the
horse
refused
to
cross
it
5 
Judith
Zeitlin
discusses
the
idea
of
pi,
with
a
focus
on
sixteenth
and
seventeenth
century
examples.
See
Zeitlin,
“The
Petrified
Heart:
Obsession
in
Chinese
Literature,
Art,
and
Medicine,”
in
Late
Imperial
China,
vol.
12,
no.
1
(June
1991),
pp.
1‐26.
4

for
the
longest
time.

Wang
said,
“This
must
be
because
it
cherishes
the
shields.”
He
had
someone
remove
them,
and
they
crossed
right
away.
(SSXY
20.4)
Wang
Ji’s
love
for
the
horse
transcends
the
connoisseur’s
judgment—he
humanizes
it
as
it
becomes
the
object
of
empathy
and
communion.

As
elucidation
Liu
Jun
cites
The
Forest
of
Words
(Yulin,
4 th 
cent.):
“Wang
Ji
by
nature
loved
horses
and
was
also
very
discerning
when
it
came
to
their
distinctions.

That
was
why
Du
Yu
(222‐284)
said
that
Wang
Ji
was
obsessed
with
horses
and
He
Qiao
was
obsessed
with
money.
Emperor
Wu
(Sima
Yan)
asked
Du
Yu:
‘And
what
is
your
obsession,
sir?’

Du
replied,
‘Your
servant
is
obsessed
with
Zuozhuan.’”
By
characterizing
Wang
Ji’s
fellow
feelings
with
horses
as
“obsession,”
Du
Yu
implies
excess
and
impropriety.

By
using
the
same
word
pi
to
juxtapose
different
fixations,
he
also
seems
to
suggest
that
intensity
of
mental
focus
forges
a
common
ground.
Du
Yu
is
deliberately
reticent
on
the
relative
merits
of
the
three
obsessions
he
names,
although
the
object
of
his
(a
canonical
classic)
would
normally
place
him
higher.

But
sometimes
the
manner
or
style
of
obsession,
even
more
than
its
object,
becomes
the
criteria
of
judgment.

Thus
Zu
Yue’s
obsession
with
money
and
Ruan
Fu’s
with
wooden
clogs
both
require
laborious
attention:
“both
were
likewise
burdensome,
and
there
was
not
yet
judgment
of
what
was
better
or
worse”
.

(SSXY
6.15)
It
is
only
when
Zu
is
caught
counting
money
and
author's permission.
trying
to
hide
it
from
a
visitor,
while
Ruan
blows
the
fire
and
waxes
his
clogs
in
composure
even
with
a
visitor
present
that
the
latter
is
judged
to
be
superior.

Ruan
muses
aloud,
“I
wonder
how
many
pairs
of
clogs
I
would
go
through
in
a
lifetime?”
(SSXY
6.15).
Self‐sufficient
and
oblivious
in
his
obsession,
Ruan
also
links
it
to
a
sense
of
philosophical
rumination
and
detachment.
Please DO NOT quote without the
The
evaluation
of
obsessions
reminds
us
of
its
social
function:
it
is
a
way
to
establish
individuality,
claim
superior
sensibility,
and
define
an
oppositional
stance
vis‐à‐vis
the
powers
that
be.

A
famous
anecdote
describes
the
encounter
between
the
famous
poet
Ji
Kang
as
he
immerses
himself
in
“forging
iron”
and
the
aristocratic
Zhong
Hui
(225‐264)
along
with
his
distinguished
retinue.

“Ji
Kang
hammered
away
without
stopping
as
if
there
were
no
one
around
him.

Moments
passed
and
they
did
not
exchange
any
word.

Zhong
Hui
rose
to
leave,
and
Ji
Kang
said,
‘What
have
you
heard
with
your
coming?

What
have
you
seen
upon
leaving?’

Zhong
Hui
replied,
‘By
coming,
I
have
heard
what
I
heard.

Upon
leaving,
I
have
seen
what
I
saw’”
(SSXY
24.3).

The
exchange
points
to
the
competition
between
the
“performer”
of
obsession
and
its
“perceiver.”

Ji
Kang,
defiantly
absorbed
in
his
fixation,
challenges
Zhong
Hui
to
respond
to
his
refusal
to
communicate.

Zhong
has
enough
wit
to
bolster
his
dignity
with
an
evasive
and
noncommittal
reply.

Ji
and
Zhong,
identified
respectively
with
“Daoist
naturalness”
5

and
“moral
teachings,”
also
belonged
to
opposing
political
factions.

Zhong
Hui
eventually
stoked
the
calumny
that
brought
about
Ji
Kang’s
downfall.
The
term
“being
obsessed
with
emotions”
or
“having
obsessive
feelings”
(qingchi)
also
first
appears
in
the
Six
Dynasties.

When
the
term
is
used
in
A
New
Account
of
Tales
of
the
World,
however,
it
does
not
refer
to
“eroto‐mania”
but
instead
describes
a
heightened
sensibility
prone
to
confusion.

Thus
Ren
Zhan,
famous
for
his
beauty
and
refinement,
seems
to
have
been
traumatized
when
the
Jin
court
moved
south
in
312.

He
“lost
his
will”
,
became
disoriented
and
excessively
emotional,
and
is
described
with
implicit
disparagement
as
having
“obsessive
feelings”
 (SSXY
34.4).

Another
Jin
aristocrat,
Wang
Xin
(d.
ca.
397),
climbs
Mount
Mao
and
loudly
laments
that
he
would
certainly
“die
from
his
feelings”
(SSXY
23.54).

There
could
be
genuine
disquiet
or
implicit
pride
in
that
declaration.

Poetic
expositions
(fu)
about
seductive
yet
ultimately
unattainable
goddesses
inspiring
obsessive
longing
flourished
in
the
Six
Dynasties.

The
fact
that
these
works
usually
end
with
loss
and
the
mortal
lover’s
struggle
to
regain
equilibrium
indicates
fundamental
anxieties
about
excessive
emotions.

In
the
human
realm,
a
man
showing
obsessive
devotion
to
a
woman
makes
him
an
object
of
scorn,
such
as
the
luckless
Xun
Can
(ca.
212‐240)
who
chills
himself
in
order
to
cool
off
his
feverish
wife
by
pressing
his
body
against
hers
(SSXY
35.2).

He
is
placed
in
the
category
of
“Misguided
Indulgence”
(huoni)
in
A
New
Account
of
the
Tales
of
the
World.
Please DO NOT quote without the
Romantic
obsession
became
part
of
a
more
general
discourse
celebrating
subjectivity,
eccentricity,
fixation
only
in
the
sixteenth
and
seventeenth
century.

Of
author's permission.
course
there
were
many
references
to
obsession
in
the
intervening
centuries,
and
a
rich
literature
on
collecting
and
connoisseurship,
especially
vibrant
during
the
Song
dynasty,
adds
to
the
aesthetics
of
obsession.

Yet
there
is
also
a
kind
of
poetic
justice
in
the
leap:
the
affinities
between
the
Six
Dynasties
and
the
late
Ming
are
evinced
by
the
popularity
and
imitations
of
A
New
Account
of
the
Tales
of
the
World
in
the
latter
period.

Miscellanies
and
collections
of
earlier
and
contemporary
anecdotes
about
obsession
flourished,
notably
the
chapter,
“Fixations
and
Passions”
(pishi
),
in
Feng
Menglong’s
(1574‐1646)
Past
and
Present
Aids
to
Conversation
(Gujin
tangai
)
and
Hua
Shu’s
Short
History
of
Fixations
and
Eccentricities
(Pidian
xiaoshi
).
The
state
of
being
obsessed
is
upheld
as
aspiration
of
universal
application
in
late
Ming
writings.
Thus
Tang
Binyin
(b.
1568):
“A
person
cannot
be
without
obsessions” ,
and
Yuan
Hongdao
(1568‐1610):
“A
person
cannot
be
without
follies”.
Wu
Congxian
(mid
17 th 
cent.),
quoting
Tang
and
Yuan,
concludes:
“Thus
there
is
no
need
to
be
rid
of
follies
or
to
be
cured
of
obsessions”
. 6 

The
importance
of
obsession
is
sometimes
presented
as
“aesthetic
necessity.”

Zhang
Chao
opines
in
Dark
Dream
Shadows
(Youmeng
ying):
6 
Wu
Congxian,
Xiaochuang
ziji,
p.
151,
no.
171.
6

“Flowers
cannot
do
without
butterflies,
mountains
cannot
do
without
streams,
rocks
cannot
do
without
moss,
water
cannot
do
without
aquatic
plants,
evergreen
trees
cannot
do
without
vines,
a
person
cannot
do
without
obsessions”
.
Obsession
is
no
longer
something
one
succumbs
to;
rather
it
almost
becomes
an
adornment.

The
person
immersed
in
his
fixation
self‐consciously
becomes
an
aesthetic
spectacle—this
is
especially
true
of
conventionalized
accounts
of
obsessions
with
“refined
things”
(such
as
flowers,
poetry,
or
art).
Zhang
Dai
(1597‐1679)
declares:
“One
cannot
befriend
a
person
without
obsessions,
for
he
would
lack
deep
feelings;
one
cannot
befriend
a
person
without
flaws,
for
he
would
lack
the
spirit
of
genuineness”
. 7 

Obsessions,
like
flaws,
confirm
a
person’s
genuine
emotions
and
individual
spirit
because
individuation
is
conceived
of
as
sickness,
the
perversion
or
diminution
of
cold
perfection.

Yuan
Hongdao
maintains
that
he
is
most
drawn
to
the
flaws
in
his
younger
brother
Yuan
Zhongdao’s
(1570‐
1623)
writings,
because
“even
the
flawed
parts
are
full
of
his
distinctive,
original
words”
. 8
If
obsession
is
not
universalized
as
human
condition,
it
is
because
only
those
with
superior
sensibility
suffer
that
burden.

Yuan
Hongdao
explains:
“The
way
Ji
Kang
was
with
forging
iron,
Wang
Ji
with
horses,
Lu
Yu
with
tea,
Mi
Fu
(the
Mad
Mi)
with
rocks,
or
Ni
Zan
with
cleanliness—in
all
these
cases
they
were
using
their
obsessions
to
lodge
their
uncompromising,
distinct,
soaring
spirit.

From
what
I
have
author's permission.
seen,
the
ones
whose
words
are
insipid
and
whose
countenances
are
unappealing
are
all
people
without
obsessions.

If
one
is
truly
obsessed
with
something,
then
one
would
immerse
and
indulge
in
it,
one
would
put
life
and
soul
into
it,
how
could
one
have
time
to
spare
for
things
such
as
money,
servants,
officialdom,
or
trade?”
9 We
already
mentioned
Ji
Kang
and
Wang
Ji
earlier.

Lu
Yu (733‐804)
is
famous
for
his
Classic
of
Tea
(Cha
jing).

The
great
painter
and
calligrapher
Mi
Fu
(1051‐1107)
was
obsessed
with
strangely
shaped
rocks;
so
much
so
that
he
would
don
official
robes
and
bow
to
an
interesting
rock,
calling
it
“older
brother.”

Another
great
artist,
Ni
Zan
(1301‐1374),
features
in
a
number
of
anecdotes
detailing
his
obsessive
fear
of
contamination.
Yuan
Hongdao
is
thus
linking
obsession
to
a
range
of
attributes,
including
political
defiance
(Ji
Kang),
empathetic
understanding
(Wang
Ji),
connoisseurly
knowledge
(Lu
Yu),
and
artistic
powers
(Mi
Fu
and
Ni
Zan).

Their
common
denominator
is
the
Please DO NOT quote without the
7 
Zhang
Dai
mentions
this
in
the
biographies
of
five
eccentrics
in
his
family
(“Wu
yiren
zhuan”)
and
also
in
his
account
of
Qi
Zhixiang’s
homosexual
passion
in
Dream
Memories
of
Tao’an
(Tao’an
mengyi).
8 
Yuan
Hongdao,
“Preface
to
Xiaoxiu’s
Poetry”.
9 
Yuan
Hongdao,
The
History
of
Vase
(pingshi
 甁 ),
“Connoisseurship”
(haoshi
).
7

idea
of
a
self
inventing
its
own
order
that
displaces
the
vulgar
concerns
shared
by
the
common
run
of
humanity.

Single‐minded
focus
on
an
external
object
seems
to
purge
the
self
of
contingencies,
yet
this
is
ultimately
about
the
vagaries
of
the
self.
In
a
marginal
comment
on
an
entry
about
Mi
Fu’s
love
of
rocks
in
Feng
Menglong’s
Aid
to
Conversation,
Yuan
Hongdao
opines:
“Chrysanthemums
for
Tao
Yuanming,
plum
blossoms
for
Lin
Pu,
rocks
for
Mi
Fu
are
not
about
loving
chrysanthemums,
plum
blossoms,
or
rocks—in
all
these
cases
it
is
the
self
loving
the
self”
. 10
The
emphasis
on
individuality
notwithstanding,
we
often
find
conventionalized
obsessions
in
late
Ming
writings—that
is,
obsession
with
the
ornaments
of
literati
culture
(e.g.,
flowers,
books,
poetry,
painting).

To
be
thus
obsessed
is
also
to
claim
membership
in
elite
culture.

Yuan
Hongdao
uses
the
word
ji
(lodge)
to
describe
the
ways
whereby
restless
discontent
and
proud
defiance
seek
solace
and
recompense
in
obsessions.

The
word
ji
suggests
a
temporary
abode,
a
choice
to
come
and
go
as
one
pleases—quite
the
contrary
of
the
idea
of
a
person
succumbing
to
obsessions.

In
other
words,
with
ji
the
obsessing
self
regains
a
measure
of
control.

Indeed,
the
imagination
of
ultimate
control
and
the
fear
of
real
disequilibrium
underline
the
discourse
on
passions,
extreme
emotions,
and
obsessions
during
the
late
Ming.

In
Yuan
Hongdao’s
affirmation
of
obsession
cited
above,
for
instance,
the
context
is
“obsession
with
flowers”
(huapi
)
of
which
he
absolves
himself.

Those
with
a
true
passion
for
flowers
brave
dangers
and
hardships
to
acquire
rare
specimens,
observe
every
phase
of
flowering
with
intensity,
and
gain
vast
and
intuitive
knowledge
about
flowers.

Yuan
considers
author's permission.
these
“true
connoisseurs”(zhen
haoshi
)
whom
he
cannot
emulate:
“As
for
the
way
I
keep
flowers,
I
just
use
them
to
dispel
the
affliction
of
withdrawal
and
solitude.
It
is
not
that
I
can
be
truly
passionate
about
it.

If
I
could,
I
would
have
been
the
one
by
the
entrance
to
the
Peach
Blossom
Cave! 11 

How
could
I
be
still
a
dusty
official
in
the
human
realm!”
爲 
Yuan’s
treatise
details
necessary
choices
and
rules
of
taste
with
methodical
meticulousness
typical
of
obsession,
yet
he
is
claiming
the
cultural
space
of
shared
taste
and
eschewing
the
radical
subjectivity
of
the
truly
obsessed.
Please DO NOT quote without the
The
concern
with
control
and
the
social
dimension
of
obsession
is
also
traceable
in
the
celebration
of
romantic
passion.

In
the
section
on
“obsessive
love”
in
Feng
Menglong’s
Compendium
on
Love
(Qing
shi),
he
declares:
“Love
is
by
definition
obsession”.

A
couple
of
generations
later,
Zhang
Chao
echoes
the
same
sentiment:
“Only
when
love
approximates
obsession
is
it
genuine”
.

The
most
famous
passionate
woman
in
the
literature
of
that
era,
Du
Liniang
from
The
Peony
Pavilion,
dreams
up
a
lover,
tries
in
vain
to
recapture
the
dream,
dies
from
longing,
wanders
as
a
ghost
in
search
of
the
beloved,
and
finally
10 
Feng
Menglong
quanji,
Tangai,
6:
152.
11 
Yuan
is
alluding
to
Tao
Yuanming’s
“Account
of
Peach
Blossom
Spring.”
8

comes
back
to
life
because
of
undying
passion.

Yet
inasmuch
that
the
play
is
also
concerned
with
social
integration—the
social
acceptance
of
a
romantic
union
born
of
absolute
passion—there
is
room
for
negotiation
and
comic
reconciliation.
Biographies
of
obsessive
lovers,
such
as
Chen
Jiru’s
(1558‐1639)
account
of
Fan
Muzhi
and
his
courtesan
lover
Du
Sheng,
describe
the
tragic
end
of
obsessive
love
with
a
mixture
of
admiration
and
admonition.

Although
there
is
a
chorus
of
praise
for
obsessions
in
late
Ming
writings,
there
is
simultaneous
anxiety
and
qualifications.
Negative
judgments
grew
louder
during
the
early
Qing,
when
obsessions,
along
with
other
forms
of
heightened
subjectivity,
are
blamed
for
undermining
the
coherence
of
the
self
and
of
the
socio‐political
realm.

As
rebuttal,
there
are
recurrent
arguments
maintaining
that
an
obsessive
mental
disposition
encourages
heroic
endeavor
by
making
people
embrace
even
hopeless
causes
(such
as
Ming
loyalism);
it
also
provides
the
venue
for
remembrance
and
nostalgia
in
the
wake
of
dynastic
collapse.
The
eighteenth
century
masterpiece,
The
Story
of
the
Stone
by
Cao
Xueqin,
probes
the
issues
raised
above
with
new
intensity.
As
in
many
late
Ming
writings,
individuation
in
the
novel
is
conceived
of
in
terms
of
sickness
or
flaw.

Also
reminiscent
of
the
late
Ming
is
the
link
between
obsessive
love
and
the
power
to
conjure,
imagine,
and
remember
a
world
(and
by
extension
literary
creation).
Obsession
signifies
the
gap
between
subjective
illumination
and
objective
definition.
This
is
a
burden
shared
by
the
author
and
the
protagonist.

A
prefatory
poem
in
chapter
one
describes
the
act
of
creation:
“Pages
filled
with
absurd
words,
/
A
bout
of
bitter
tears.
/
All
call
the
author
obsessed,
/
Who
would
his
meaning
savor?”
“Bitter
tears”
must
be
masked
author's permission.
as
“absurd
words”;
the
incongruity
is
itself
a
proleptic
response
to
the
uncomprehending
reader.

The
protagonist
Jia
Baoyu
is
introduced
by
analogous
song
lyrics
that
hide
pride
in
apparent
disparagement
by
taking
up
the
voice
of
an
unsympathetic
world:
“An
unbound
spirit
unschooled
in
the
ways
of
the
world”
;
“All
under
heaven,
a
nonpareil
in
his
lack
of
talent,
/
For
all
ages,
he
is
matchless
in
being
worthless” 
(ch.
3).

When
he
visits
the
Illusory
Realm
of
Great
Void
in
his
dream
(ch.
5),
the
goddess
Disenchantment
commends
him
for
his
“obsessive
love” 
or
“lust
of
the
mind” ,
which
would
win
him
friends
among
women
in
the
“inner
chambers”
but
would
also
bring
him
calumny
and
mistrust
from
the
outside
world.
Please DO NOT quote without the
If
we
return
to
the
metaphor
of
siege
with
which
we
begin
this
discussion,
then
the
self
here
is
besieged
not
by
maniacal
fixation
but
by
the
demands
of
the
world.

Obsession
is
the
wherewithal
to
invent
another
world
to
live
by.

In
the
beginning
frame
of
the
novel,
this
idea
takes
shape
in
the
actions
of
our
protagonist’s
mythical
antecedents
as
a
stone
and
the
celestial
attendant
Stone‐in‐
Waiting.

Refined
to
sentience
by
the
goddess
Nugua
and
yet
ultimately
deemed
unfit
to
repair
heaven,
the
stone
finds
compensatory
solace
and
justification
by
becoming
(or
symbolically
linked
to)
Stone‐in‐Waiting,
who
waters
the
plant
Crimson
Pearl
(the
antecedent
of
Daiyu).

A
fundamental
flaw—the
inability
to
fit
9

into
any
category
of
significance—becomes
the
source
of
power
to
give
the
gift
of
love
and
life.

Social,
political,
and
moral
failure
provides
the
potential
lynchpin
for
a
realm
premised
on
feelings
and
sensibility
to
unfold.

This
logic
is
reworked
again
and
again
in
the
novel.

Two
actresses
who
play
lovers
or
husband
and
wife
on
stage
come
to
embrace
those
roles
in
real
life.
When
one
of
them,
Ruiguan,
mourns
the
passing
of
her
“wife”
Diguan
by
burning
paper
offerings,
Baoyu
comes
upon
the
scene
and
applauds
the
theatrical
transcendence
of
mundane
reality—as
the
chapter
title
announces,
this
is
“obsessive
reasoning” 
known
only
to
those
with
“genuine
feelings”
(ch.
58). 12 

Likewise,
Baoyu
responds
to
his
maid
Qingwen’s
death,
which
symbolizes
the
end
of
the
world
of
Grand
View
Garden,
by
perversely
believing
in
a
maid’s
fib
that
Qingwen
has
become
a
flower
spirit.

He
composes
the
“Elegy
to
the
Hibiscus
Spirit,”
dignifying
her
death
by
bringing
in
all
the
prototypes
of
frustrated
and
maligned
scholar‐officials
(ch.
78).

(In
doing
so,
he
also
reverses
the
logic
of
the
allegorical
formula
using
“beauties
and
fragrant
flora”
[meiren
xiangcao
]
to
mourn
political
failure.)

The
chapter
title
calls
this
“willful
fabrication”
(duzhuan
)
by
a
foolish
or
obsessed
young
man
(chi
gongzi ).
Yet
it
is
also
grand
mythmaking
that
promises
to
replace
an
indifferent
world
with
sympathetic
nature
and
malleable
gods.
Red
Inkstone
defines
Baoyu’s
“lust
of
the
mind”
as
his
ability
to
empathize
(titie
). 13 

Yet
the
line
between
entering
into
another’s
feeling
and
projecting
one’s
own
is
very
fine.

The
obsessed
self
conjures
another
realm
by
assimilating
others
into
it,
in
the
process
erasing
the
boundary
between
self
and
other.

When
Baoyu
espies
the
actress
Lingguan
repeatedly
scratching
the
character
“qiang”
on
author's permission.
the
ground,
he
enters
so
fully
into
her
hopeless
longing
that
he
forgets
himself,
oblivious
to
being
caught
in
the
rain
as
he
urges
Lingguan
to
seek
shelter
(ch.
30).
Lingguan
by
her
obsessive
longing—evident
in
the
repetition
of
what
appears
to
be
a
name—becomes
“one
of
the
like‐minded”
(wobei
zhongren
),
and
Baoyu
has
no
qualms
about
affirming
their
affinities
across
social
divide.

The
same
logic
applies
to
the
world
of
things:
Baoyu
explains
to
Qingwen
that
since
things
exist
for
the
pleasure
of
humans,
humans
have
to
right
to
determine
their
raison
d’être.

If
one
takes
pleasure
in
the
sound
of
a
fan’s
tearing,
then
it
is
acceptable
to
tear
fans
to
justify
that
optimal
relationship
between
self
and
object
(ch.
31).

The
memorable
image
of
Qingwen
laughing
while
tearing
fans
as
Baoyu
looks
on
appreciatively
hints
at
the
potential
iconoclasm
of
this
position.

Likewise,
there
is
but
a
tenuous
distinction
between
empathetic
power
and
mere
selfishness—Baoyu
feels
baffled
and
crushed
when
he
realizes
his
own
insignificance
in
the
eyes
of
Lingguan,
who
is
obsessed
with
Jia
Qiang.
Please DO NOT quote without the
12 
The
titular
couplet
of
ch.
58:
“In
the
shade
of
the
apricot
tree,
the
false
phoenix
weeps
for
her
illusory
mate;
/
Under
the
red
gauze
windows,
genuine
feelings
gauge
the
obsessive
reasoning”
.
13 
See
Red
Inkstone’s
comment
in
chapter
5,
Xinbian
Shiou
ji
Zhiyan
zhai
pingyu
jijiao
(Taipei:
Lianjing,
1986),
comp.
Chen
Qinghao,
p.
135.
10

There
is
thus
ironic
questioning
of
the
limits
of
subjective
projection
in
The
Story
of
the
Stone.

It
can
be
perilously
close
to
egoism,
self‐deception,
and
irresponsibility.

(For
example,
Baoyu
may
claim
to
rise
above
the
material
conditions
of
his
existence,
but
he
also
depends
on
them
and
takes
them
for
granted.)
But
these
questions
are
not
raised
from
the
perspective
of
simply
reaffirming
the
constraints
of
moral
or
social
order
that
justify
obsessions
in
the
first
place.

As
mentioned
earlier,
remembrances
and
the
recreation
of
a
lost
world
in
writing
qualifies
the
negative
judgment
of
excessive
subjectivity
after
the
fall
of
the
Ming
dynasty.

By
a
similar
logic,
critique
of
folly
and
self‐deception
(chi
in
its
negative
sense)
merges
with
the
glorification
of
subjective
illumination
(chi
in
its
positive
sense)
as
the
shared
burden
of
the
protagonist’s
emotions
and
the
author’s
memory,
imagination,
and
act
of
writing.
Please DO NOT quote without the
author's permission.
11

Closing Keynote Speech
Speaker: Professor Shu-mei Shih
The Obsession to Compare
Abstract
Comparative literature is a highly self-reflexive discipline, where
self-reflexivity is not so much a critical response to its colonial origins (as in
anthropology) but is due to a fundamental uncertainty about how to define
the discipline. The term “comparative” is also often a source of
embarrassment, born of an era when scholars’ comparisons of different
national literatures of Europe qualified as critical work. When asked by
others, “what do you compare?” comparatists also often rush to say that they
don’t so much compare as theorize, which produced another fetish
object—theory—during and after the heyday of deconstructionism. These
two objects of fetishism, Europe and theory, which are also metonymies of
each other, limited the sites, languages, and literatures for comparison, and
served the discipline’s underlying Eurocentrism effectively. Comparison
became an alibi for Eurocentrism.
Please DO NOT quote without the
author's permission.
This annual convention on East Asian comparative literature provides a
perfect occasion to subvert the Eurocentricism of comparative literature as a
discipline. However, if the objects of comparison have changed, the act of
comparison may have not. The crucial question therefore is about the act of
comparison, underlying which is the desire, the will, and even the obsession
to compare. Why compare? Why the obsession? This lecture will
explore these questions and offer a new conception of comparison as
relation, as a way to rethink not only the content but also the method of
comparative literature.
12