'Chi Wen Tzu always thought three times before taking action.
Twice would have been quite enough' McGough's lyrical comedy
of ancient China takes this aphorism of Confucius as its starting
point. Who was Chi Wen Tzu, and why always think three times?
Posing as 'editor' of Chi's diaries, McGough portrays a whimsical
and procrastinatory poet:
Tonight, young wife lying naked
on panda skin rug. Full moon
hanging in sky like Chinese lampshade
(one of those round white ones).
At sight of fragrant body
its hills and valleys
bathed in silver light
am overcome with desire.
Wonder what course of action to take?
Make love, then and there?
Make tea, then make love?
Open bottle of rice-wine,
write up day's events in diary,
relax in warm bath,
then make love?
I must confess two things here: firstly, this bothers me - that
'thinking three times' in this context clearly doesn't
mean weighing up three different options in a sort of multiple
choice, but reconsidering the rightness of one course of action,
and this sort of makes a nonsense of the whole premise of the
story and much of the comedy. Secondly, I find it pretty funny
anyway. McGough has charm enough to slip through any sceptic's
net. This very slim 'slim volume' is rich in puns and parodies,
and is beautifully illustrated by Satoshi Kitamura; the pictures
of the indecisive Chi bear more than a passing resemblance to
a certain Scouse poet, adorned with 'ancient Chinese' moustaches.
The dropping of articles throughout, and the surrender to cliché
in 'Confucius he say' seem caricatured and slightly questionable;
this is also true of Chi's invention of the haiku:
[Editor's note: Having invented the haiku (and sold the
copyright to a consortium of Japanese poets)...]
which perpetuates more clichés. Somehow McGough gets away
with slips like this; it's difficult to be cross and Scrooge-like,
when his writing is so gentle and good-natured.
Chi writes about his unfaithful wife, and the relationship with
his mentor Confucius; as the story unfolds and moves lightly from
slapstick into tragi-comedy, his personal troubles give birth
to the classic image of ancient China, the willow pattern. The
Spotted Unicorn punningly refers to a proverb which stands
as the book's epigraph: 'A philosopher dies - the unicorn is spotted':
Nightmares of unicorn
galloping across rickety bridge
young wife, naked, clinging to flowing mane.
In sky above, pair of bluebirds
in eternal embrace
skewered by single arrow.
Drops of blood
falling
into porcelain saucer
of moon.
The pain of betrayal, the death of Confucius, Chi's flight from
his home: the poignant beauty of the poem's close steals up on
you unexpectedly. Whimsical - certainly; but also small and pretty,
touching and funny: the perfect stocking-filler, then.
Reviewed by Mike Bradshaw
