ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
For a long time, I was unsure how to write this book. I wanted it to be as broadly and boldly comparative as works by Anthony Grafton, Zhang Longxi, David Porter, Timothy Brook, Richard Vinograd, and Kenneth Pomeranz. Yet my material seemed so vast and disparate—so utterly unruly—that I despaired of ever being able to contain or organize it. “Why not just write a tidy little monograph on Li Zhi, and leave Europe out of it?” I thought. But a casual comment by Timothy Brook decisively tipped the scales in favor of comparison.
My comparative studies have benefited enormously from the guidance of my teachers, especially the late Anthony C. Yu. Judith T. Zeitlin shared with me her deep knowledge of Chinese literature and at times also her well-founded reservations about comparative projects. He Yuming and Jacob Eyferth provided sinological guidance, and many years earlier Angela Zito introduced me to the serious study of Chinese texts. Philippe Desan generously lent his encyclopedic mastery of all things Montaigne-related. And Sherri Wolf laid the foundation by introducing me to Montaigne in her Lit Hum class. Richard Strier, Kathy Eden, Hannah Gray, Joshua Scodel, and Jean Howard each contributed to my understanding of Renaissance literature, history, and philosophy. And Joshua Scodel earned my enduring gratitude by rescuing this project at a critical juncture. Lee Behnke, Shadi Bartsch, and Lisa Mignone, each in very different ways, furthered my ongoing study of Latin. And Jonathan Lear and James Conant taught a course on Kierkegaard that contributed to this book in subtle, methodological ways that they will probably never know. Most important, Woody Howard fortified me with the tenacity to just keep going.
The book has benefited tremendously from opportunities to test out my developing ideas at conferences and invited lectures. Early drafts of several chapters were presented at the following conferences and venues: Coin of the Realm (Harvard, 2014), The Book in East Asia, (Oberlin, 2013), Reading, Textual Production, and Literati Culture in Late Imperial China (Pennsylvania State University, 2013), Writings, Virtue, and the Social World: Li Zhi and 16th-Century China (University of Chicago, 2013), the International Comparative Literature Association (Paris, 2013), the Association for Asian Studies (Chicago, 2009), the American Comparative Literature Association (Long Beach, 2008), and the Harvard Humanities Seminar (2011). I extend thanks to all those who included me in these scholarly exchanges, challenged my ideas, and provided suggestions and bibliographical leads. I also thank the two anonymous reviewers for the University of Washington Press, along with the many librarians who assisted me at the University of Chicago, Harvard and Brown universities, Academia Sinica, the Library of Congress, Middlebury College, and Macalester College. Especially deserving of credit are Connie Karlen and Katy Witzig of Macalester College, who worked tirelessly to secure hard-to-find resources for me. Colleen Mullarkey of the University of Chicago, too, contributed to this project in countless meticulous ways that only the best librarians can. Her cheerful face always brought a smile to mine. I am particularly indebted to David Porter, who provided unflagging support throughout this book’s (seemingly endless) process of composition and revision, and to Haun Saussy, who likewise nurtured the development of this book. A version of chapter six appeared in Chinese Literature: Essays, Articles, Reviews (2013), where it benefited greatly from his broad cultural knowledge and editorial expertise.
Grants from the Dolores Zohrab Leibmann Foundation, the China Times Foundation, the Blakemore Foundation, the Mellon Foundation, and the Cogut Center for the Humanities at Brown University all helped fund the research for this book. Most significantly, a grant from Academia Sinica enabled me to spend a year in Taiwan, where I found a welcoming community of scholars, including Li Sher-hsiueh, Lü Miaw-fen, Yang Chin-lung, Wang Ayling, Liao Chiao-hung, Peng Hsiao-yen, Chiang Chiu-hua, and Wang Fansen. Perhaps the scholar at Sinica whose work has most deeply influenced my own is Wu Jenshu. I am especially grateful for his generously discussing with me the ideas in chapter four and providing me with essential bibliographical materials. During that research year, Liu Chiung-yun, Aiwen Wang, Harrison Huang, Richard Jean So, and Anatoly Detwyler were my constant companions, with whom I shared copious quantities of mango bing, expat hamburgers, and many long, intense conversations.
This book would not have been possible in its current form had it not been for the experience of coediting and cotranslating selections from Li Zhi’s writings for the volume A Book to Burn and a Book to Keep (Hidden). For five years, Haun Saussy, Pauline C. Lee, and I lived intimately with Li Zhi’s texts, exchanging hundreds of draft translations and working closely with dedicated contributors Timothy Brook, Timothy Billings, Chen Huiying, Drew Dixon, Jennifer Eichman, Martin Huang, Thomas Kelly, David Lebovitz, and Yan Zinan. This experience introduced me to portions of Li Zhi’s corpus unknown to me at the time and enabled me to comprehend the author’s style in new ways. In improving the quality of my own translations for that volume, I am especially grateful to Haun Saussy, Xu Peng, Zhang Ying, and Liu Chiung-yun, as well as to my teachers in Taiwan, Chen Yizhen, Zhu Jinghua, Yang Ningyuan, Chen Liyuan, and most especially Chou Chang-chen. My very first Chinese teacher, Meng Yuann-yuann, holds a special place in my heart, for it was she who set me on the path of studying Chinese. Her uncompromisingly high standards continue to inspire me.
As coeditor of the forthcoming volume of collected essays tentatively titled The Objectionable Li Zhi, I have also benefited tremendously by reading the work of Wai-yee Li, Maram Epstein, Kai-wing Chow, Robert Hegel, Zhang Ying, Martin Huang, Timothy Brook, Robert Batchelor, Tai Ching-hsien, Lü Miaw-fen, and Pauline C. Lee. Their scholarship has allowed me to see aspects of Li’s literary corpus and its significance that had previously eluded me. It has been a privilege to work with Haun Saussy and Pauline C. Lee on editing that volume and organizing the conference that generated it.
The present volume also grows out of experiences in the classroom. Preparing for and coteaching the course The Confusions of Pleasure at Middlebury College with Stephen Whiteman opened up a world of interdisciplinary insights and brought me into contact with art historical scholarship I would not have found on my own. Stephen’s depth of knowledge, questing mind, and cheerful, can-do attitude made our collaboration invaluable. Conversations that began in that class have seeped subtly into these pages. Discussions with students in other classes too, especially Ancient Poetics: China and the Greco-Roman World as well as Opulence and Decadence: China, Europe, and the Early Modern World have shaped the contours of this book.
Macalester College and the Twin Cities have provided me with the supportive environment and intellectual freedom I’ve needed to complete this book. For these I want especially to thank Satoko Suzuki, Yang Xin, Arthur Mitchell, Patricia Anderson, Jin Stone, Wang Fang, Lan Sijia, and Katie Scott, as well as Jim Laine and Chuen-Fung Wong of Macalester College. The University of Minnesota’s Classical Chinese Reading Group, directed by the intrepid Ann Waltner, has devoted hours to checking many of the translations that appear in this book. Its members include Lars Christensen, Gao Ruchen, Jiang Yuanxin, Jin Hui-han, Li Kan, Katie Ryor, Zhu Tianxiao, and Karil Kucera. Li Yuhang also provided valuable help with translation.
The title for this book, as well as its guiding metaphor, was inspired by a remark by Catherine Vance Yeh, for which I am immensely grateful. Robert Hegel and Joseph Allen also deserve credit for persistently encouraging me to complete the manuscript and for graciously introducing me to my editor, Lorri Hagman. Her expert editorial guidance, along with that of Tim Roberts and Judith Hoover, enhanced the book’s clarity and accuracy.
Karin Vélez and Alexis Peri took time during hectic semesters and hot summers to read and meticulously comment on the entire manuscript, providing equal measures of constructive criticism and praise. Zhang Ying and Suyoung Son were my most demanding readers. When drafts passed muster with them, I felt certain I was on the right track. Cynthia Brokaw kindly read an early draft of the manuscript and offered extremely incisive and helpful criticism, and Ann Waltner and Nathan Vedal supplied comments on more polished drafts. Oded Rabinovitch, living up to his name, could always be counted on for much-needed encouragement as well as pointed critique.
Throughout the long process of writing and revising this manuscript, friends near and far have lifted my spirits. They include many of the people mentioned above, as well as Suzanne Jung Angell, Anya Bernstein, Jeannie Britton, Marcella F. Ellis, Rachel Freeman, James Grimmelmann, Jeehee Hong, Irene Hsiao, Einor Keinan-Segev, Emma Kipley-Ogman, Julia Orell, Willard Kasoff, Margaret Litvin, Andrea Mühlebach, Louisa Stein, George Streeter, Rochelle Pereira, Brigid Vance, and Xu Dongfeng. Robert Schine patiently tolerated my stubborn refusal to take a break—ever—not even on the most beautiful summer days. He uncannily knew when to provide a nudge of encouragement, when to insist on a much-needed walk or swim, and when simply to leave me to my work. For his steadfast support in this and countless other endeavors I am enormously grateful.
Finally, my family has nourished me from the earliest age, instilling in me a deep and abiding love of Western literature and the arts, while at the same time fostering my increasingly intense explorations of Chinese culture. Their lives combine bold originality with the disciplined, principled, and relentless pursuit of excellence. They have consistently buoyed my confidence, encouraged my creativity, and simply expected me to finish this book.