Regrettably, many individuals outside China are unfamiliar with the rich tradition of the country’s classical poetry, partly due to the frequent changes in transliteration of leading poets’ names. The names of poets featured in Ezra Pound’s influential 1915 collection, Cathay, are now scarcely recognizable. Merely a generation ago, one of China’s eminent poets, Li Po, is now known as Li Bai. Similarly, the renowned Du Fu was, until recently, referred to as Tu Fu in the Western context, making it challenging for those unfamiliar with Chinese to locate him in online searches.
The complexity extends to the poetry itself, especially in the case of Du Fu, whom Michael Wood hails as “China’s greatest poet” in his commendable new book. Du Fu crafted many of his masterpieces in couplets of seven impressionistic characters each, posing a formidable challenge for translation into the more expansive structures of European-language poetry. For instance, the translation of lines from Du Fu’s well-known poem, “Ballad of Lovely Women,” presents a daunting task. David Hawkes, a scholar who kindled my interest in translating Chinese poetry, translated it literally as: “Appearance gorgeous thoughts remote pure and true / Complexions delicate bones-flesh well-proportioned.”
The inherent difficulty and the exhilarating task of rendering this into something graspable for an English speaker are evident. Despite my earlier attempt at translating a collection of Du Fu’s poems, upon reviewing them for this critique, I was disheartened by the clumsy quality of my work.
Nonetheless, the luminous quality of Du Fu’s work should not deter us from relishing a book that narrates his story and retraces his life’s journey. Wood, known for his exceptional historical commentary on television, has personally visited the significant places Du Fu traversed, providing thoughtful descriptions.
Du Fu, a thwarted scholar, faced a lifelong struggle for government positions or even financial support to sustain himself and his family. The hardship was so severe that one of his sons perished due to hunger, a haunting memory Du Fu never forgot. Despite the melancholic tone of much of his poetry, there is also an abundance of joy and an appreciation for good companionship. Du Fu displayed a knack for self-deprecation and even teased his own poetry at times, adding a charming dimension to his work.
Above all, Du Fu emerged as a perceptive observer of his tumultuous era. His times were marked by the rule of Emperor Xuanzong, a cultured and intelligent leader, during the first part of Du’s life. However, the allure of Yang Guifei led to a period of mismanagement, culminating in the devastating An Lushan Rebellion of 755, where millions lost their lives. Du Fu chronicled these events in his unmatched poems, showcasing a blend of first-class journalism and art.
Wood’s narrative of these incidents, among others, is impeccably written and extensively researched. He journeys to the locales that marked Du’s challenging life, engaging with scholars and ordinary people along the way. The publishers have presented the text and illustrations with remarkable quality. I plan to carry this book with me on all my future journeys, much like I have always carried Hawkes’s “Little Primer of Tu Fu.” Perhaps, with continued exploration, it may assist me in becoming a slightly more adept translator of Du Fu’s incomparable poetry. John Simpson, the BBC’s global affairs editor, highly recommends Michael Wood’s “In the Footsteps of Du Fu,” published by Simon & Schuster (£16.99). To support the Guardian and Observer, you can order your copy at guardianbookshop.com, with possible delivery charges.