In this blog post, we’ll explore the life and literary world of Lu Xun, a master of modern Chinese literature, and reflect on why he is remembered as a revolutionary while also being a writer who harbored deep compassion for humanity.
If Hu Shi (胡適) is compared to Korea’s Choi Nam-seon in the history of modern Chinese literature, Lu Xun (魯迅) played a pioneering role in modern poetry and the modern novel comparable to that of Lee Kwang-su.
In his later years, he joined the Chinese Left-Wing Writers’ League, and his later works also took on a leftist orientation. What was even more unfortunate was that after his death, contrary to his own wishes, he was swept up in the tide of politics and came to be celebrated as a figure of Mao Zedong. This has, in fact, become an obstacle to a proper understanding of his literature.
As he stated in the preface to his first collection of short stories, ‘The Cry’ (吶喊, 1922)—which includes the stories “Storms” and “Hometown” featured in this book—his literary motivations stemmed from a spirit of patriotism and love for his people, as well as a tragic indictment of his own inner desolation.
He suffered from poverty and frail health during his childhood, to the extent that he had to frequent pawnshops and pharmacies to make ends meet.
At the age of eighteen, he enrolled in the Heguang Department of the Jiangnan Naval Academy in Nanjing, and the following year, he transferred to the Mining Department of the Lu-Kuang School, affiliated with the Jiangnan Military Academy. After graduating from the Mining Department, he left for Japan in 1902, at the age of twenty-two, to study abroad. He sought to study medicine, which was considered to have driven Japan’s modernization, and finally enrolled at the Sendai Medical College in 1904.
It was during this period that he shifted his focus to literature. The Russo-Japanese War was in full swing at the time, and one day during class, while watching a current-affairs slide show, he witnessed a scene in which a Chinese man was executed in front of a large crowd of Chinese onlookers on the grounds that he had acted as a spy for the Russian army. Through this incident, he realized that no matter how physically robust a nation might be, if its people were mentally weak, they would inevitably become nothing more than a spectacle for others. He also came to deeply and painfully realize that the path to becoming a powerful nation lay in spiritual reformation, and that literature was the most effective means of achieving that reformation.
To overcome the inescapable desolation he felt, he constantly thought about the salvation of his fellow countrymen and the restoration of his nation’s culture. And the first work he wrote—fueled by hope and conviction that could not be overwhelmed by reality—to endure the encroaching loneliness was ‘The Diary of a Madman’. Published in 1918, when he was thirty-eight years old, this work also heralded the eve of the May Fourth New Culture Movement.
Ultimately, his literary debut was a struggle to save himself from his own anguish; it was an outpouring of patriotism and a form of self-criticism directed at his nation. In other words, it was a manifestation of his sense of mission to awaken the spirit of the nation.
His literary career and life can be clearly divided into two distinct periods, with 1927 serving as the dividing line.
After moving to Shanghai in October of that year, he devoted himself to literature, revolution, and the communist movement until his death. Accordingly, for convenience, his career can be divided into an early period (before 1927) and a later period (after 1927).
If the early period was characterized by patriotism, national pride, enlightenment, and realism, the later period can be described as socialist, communist, militant, and critical.
His communist activities began in earnest after his move to Shanghai. In 1928, he introduced Marx and Lenin through the magazine ‘Bengliu’ (奔流), and in the same year, he joined the Revolutionary Mutual Aid Society (革命互濟會). Subsequently, in 1930, he joined the Chinese Free Movement Grand Alliance while also founding and leading the Chinese Left-Wing Writers’ League.
For this reason, even Lu Xun scholars affiliated with the Chinese Communist Party have described him during his early period as a “non-socialist intellectual from a petty-bourgeois background.”
His personality also shows a distinct divide between his early and later periods. In his early years, he was a figure grounded in the traditional spirit of the Chinese literati, embodying individual liberation, noble resolve, and even a sense of nihilism influenced by Nietzsche. However, these tendencies later transformed him into a radical communist as his class consciousness grew and he embraced a struggle on behalf of the proletariat.
His literary output is also broadly divided into two periods. If his early period was the era of short stories, his later period was the era of miscellaneous essays. Furthermore, while his early works were enlightening and realistic “literature of life,” his later works were political literature centered on social criticism and critiques of civilization. Whereas traditional melancholy and romanticism are evident in his early works, his later works are marked by an explosive display of sharp and paradoxical satire.
While his early literature delved into the Chinese soul and focused on reforming the national character by opposing feudalism, superstition, and servitude, his later works actively engaged in human and institutional revolution. However, this does not mean he abandoned his love for his homeland, China, to pursue only international communism.
If his later works are termed “critical literature,” his early works can be considered closer to “pure literature.” Given that his period of political engagement constituted a relatively brief phase of his life, it is necessary to reexamine Lu Xun’s literary world by placing greater emphasis on his early works.
The works introduced here—“The Diary of a Madman” (1918), “Storms” (1920), ‘Hometown’ (1921), and ‘The Lonely One’ (1925)—all introduced here—are among the finest works of Lu Xun’s early literary period.
Published in the April 1918 issue of ‘New Youth’, ‘The Diary of a Madman’ is not only Lu Xun’s debut work but is also regarded as the first modern novel in the history of Chinese modern literature.
This work, which thoroughly critiques China’s feudal, old-generation Confucian rituals and ethics, features a madman consumed by paranoia. Through his unconscious actions and soliloquies, it starkly exposes the shackles of Confucian rituals and the toxicity of feudal society, likening them to “cannibalism.”
In a closed Confucian society where human rights violations—between the feudal ruling class and peasants, and between slave owners and slaves—were justified in the name of custom and etiquette, and where countless sacrifices were forced under the pretext of “virtuous women” and “chaste widows,” the madman instead cries out for the liberation of individuality—which has long been trampled upon—and the restoration of human dignity.
At the end, the work emphatically stresses the need for a new human liberation by crying out, “Save the children!” Furthermore, by sharply criticizing the feudal society—where “the eaters” and “the eaten” have coexisted for over two thousand years—it exemplifies “literature of will,” which pursues national enlightenment and the restoration of humanity.
Published after the May Fourth Movement, “Wind and Waves” reflects the reality of chaotic Chinese society following the Xinhai Revolution, where feudal warlords vied for power. In particular, it vividly depicts the ignorance and historical limitations of the lower classes.
The character Qijin (七斤) in the work is a man who, for generations, has been unable to escape a life of farming and manual labor. Though weighed down by poverty and exhaustion, he cannot abandon his simple dream of one day becoming a government official. This portrayal symbolically illustrates a cross-section of the common people’s consciousness at the time.
Published in early the year following ‘The Storm’, ‘Hometown’ centers on the relationship between the narrator—who leaves the desolate countryside for the city—and Yun Tu (閏土), the son of his childhood friend, the moon-watchman. While the story depicts how the pure friendship of childhood drifts apart in adulthood in the face of social status and the harsh realities of life, it ultimately does not lose hope in humanity.
Finally, “The Lonely One,” published in 1925, is one of the works that most candidly reveals Lu Xun’s own inner world, anguish, and sense of desolation.
Featuring Wei Lianshu, a Chinese history teacher, as the protagonist, the story depicts—with a blend of anger and sentimentality—how Chinese intellectuals after the May Fourth Movement, torn between revolution and ideals, sink deeper into loneliness the more they reflect.
Along with works such as “In a Tavern,” “Autumn Night,” “Mourning Death,” and “Dry Leaves,” “The Lonely One” conveys dark emotions such as despair, sentimentality, and skepticism. The influence of Nietzsche can also be glimpsed in these works. Furthermore, Lu Xun’s sentimental and romantic side is evident in his preface to the short story collection ‘Wandering’, where he quotes a passage from Qu Yuan’s “Li Sao”: “The road stretches endlessly before me; I shall wander high and low in search of the way.”
From 1918 to 1927—a period of about ten years—Lu Xun published two short story collections, ‘Cries’ and ‘Wandering’, as well as numerous miscellaneous essay collections, including ‘The Grave’, ‘The Hot Wind’, ‘The Flower-Opening Collection’, ‘The Flower-Opening Collection: Sequel’, and ‘The Yiqi Collection’. He also published the prose collection ‘Picking Morning Flowers in the Evening’, the prose poetry collection ‘Wild Grasses’, and the historical fiction collection ‘New Tales of Ancient Times’, as well as scholarly works such as ‘A Brief History of Chinese Fiction’, ‘Essays on Fiction’, and ‘Biographies of the Tang and Song Dynasties’.
Even during the nine years from 1928 until his death, he consistently published numerous collections of miscellaneous writings and critical essays—including ‘The Three Han Collection’, ‘The Collection of Two Hearts’, ‘The Collection of the South River and the Northern Dynasty’, ‘Wei Ziyou’s Letters’, ‘Miscellaneous Writings from the Tea Pavilion’, ‘Literary Changes’, and ‘The Collection Beyond the Collection’—as well as several translated works, leaving a significant mark on the development of modern Chinese literature.
Indeed, Lu Xun’s contributions to the history of modern Chinese literature are immense. In fact, the fact that Mao Zedong hailed him as China’s greatest literary figure in ‘On New Democracy’ might even feel like a heavy burden.
He did not hold back from sharply exposing and criticizing Chinese society, which had been steeped in four thousand years of feudal culture and Confucian rituals. However, at the core of that criticism always lay a deep compassion and affection for his own people.
He remained steadfast in his commitment to this mission, allowing for almost no compromise. As a result, however, he became politicized as a standard-bearer of revolutionary literature, and the pure affection and human concern present in his early works were gradually overshadowed by ideological concerns.
His works frequently feature ignorant peasants or intellectuals mired in inertia. This is related to his own upbringing. He was originally born into a declining Confucian scholar-official family, and as his family’s fortunes waned, he spent his childhood mingling with cowherds and day laborers. Through this experience, he gained firsthand insight into the lives of peasants and developed a deep understanding and affection for them. These experiences later became a crucial foundation for the world of his novels.
His affection for the peasants eventually merged with his aspiration to save the nation, becoming the wellspring of his literary spirit.
In “Prison Notes” from ‘Hot Wind’, Lu Xun went so far as to criticize feudal rituals and ethics as “modern butchers.” Furthermore, in the founding editorial of ‘The Lookout’, he declared, “There is no hope for China unless this pitch-black, defiled jar is smashed to pieces,” revealing his strong determination to shatter the falsehoods and hypocrisy of the old society. His criticism was at times so fierce that it bordered on vitriol.
He relentlessly exposed the ills inherent in traditional culture. This sense of social consciousness evolved into an enlightenment spirit in his early works and into a spirit of social criticism in his later works. Consequently, his literary philosophy also shifted from “art for life” to “engaged literature for social reform.”
The lineage of Lu Xun’s literature is rooted in the traditions of realism and naturalism found in classical Chinese literature, while also being shaped by his active embrace of influences from Russian literature.
In particular, in ‘Collected Works from South and North’, he explained the motivation behind ‘The Diary of a Madman’, stating, “The purpose was to expose the evils of the family system and Confucian ethics.” Furthermore, while this work was influenced by Gogol’s ‘The Diary of a Madman’, the scope of its melancholy and anger can be seen as having expanded to a broader, more social dimension.
He also enjoyed reading and highly regarded Chekhov and Pushkin.
However, although his early works were formally very innovative, they were not merely imitations of Western literature. Although his writing style was adapted to the Chinese language, it was essentially rooted in Chinese sensibilities and the traditions of Chinese literature.
In particular, the influence of works such as ‘Dream of the Red Chamber’, ‘Water Margin’, and ‘Stories from the Literati’ is evident in the plot development and character portrayals. Furthermore, his use of symbolic and poetic allusions in the composition and resolution of his works can also be seen as an extension of the Chinese literary tradition.
The realism of the subject matter, the national character of the form, the boldness of the content, the archetypal nature of the characters, and the colloquial quality of the language are all important characteristics of Lu Xun’s literature. While he did not unconditionally reject tradition, he boldly challenged outdated and trite customs.
Finally, I would like to share a few anecdotes passed down among admirers of Lu Xun’s early works, which may serve as a reference for understanding his literary character.
One cannot help but wonder whether he would have shifted so abruptly toward the leftist camp had he not experienced the Nationalist Government’s arrest of students while serving as chair of the Department of Literature at Sun Yat-sen University in Guangdong in 1927. There is also a sense of regret regarding what choices he might have made had he lived to see the establishment of the People’s Republic of China.
When he passed away on October 19, 1936, the citizens of Shanghai inscribed the words “Soul of the Nation” on his coffin. However, even today, a more objective and dispassionate examination is needed to determine just how valid that assessment truly is.
