The Mao Case

greater one.”
    “You cannot take a poem too literally. ‘The really heroic’ here can be singular or plural. It doesn’t have to refer to Mao
     alone. Also, we have to take into consideration that Mao and the Communist Party were then regarded as ‘uneducated bandits.’
     So the poem showed Mao’s learning and won applause from the intellectuals.”
    “Yes, your interpretation throws much light on it,” Chen said, though not at all convinced. “That’s why I am coming to an
     expert like you.”
    “There are interpretations and interpretations. Some people may have a personal grudge against Mao — quite possibly because
     of their suffering during the Cultural Revolution, but we have to see Mao from a historical perspective.”
    “Exactly, but people cannot help seeing him from their own perspective.”
    “Now, from my perspective, the sauce is a must. Simple yet essential, it brings out the best of the crabs,” Long said, changing
     the topic as he poured the sauce into another crab shell. “Once I even dipped pebbles into the sauce, and with my eyes closed,
     I still enjoyed all the memories of the crabs.”
    “That’s something, Long,” Chen said. “I’m learning a lot today — apart from Mao’s poetry.”

    “Few publishing houses are interested in poetry today,” Long said, looking him in the eye. “Are you trying to write something
     about his poems?”
    “No, I’m no scholar, not like you. I majored in English, so I’m interested in translation.”
    “Translation?”
    “Yes, there was an official translation of Mao poetry in the seventies — by celebrated scholars and translators. One of them
     was a professor at Beijing Foreign Language University, where I studied. But the ‘politically correct’ interpretation could
     have been taken too far during those years. For instance, some of his poems could be personal, not just about revolution,
     but translators at the time had to translate them into revolutionary poems.”
    “That’s true. Everything could be political in those days.”
    “Poetry translation doesn’t simply mean word-to-word rendition. They should read like poems in the target language.” Chen
     opened his briefcase and took out his translation of classical Chinese love poems. “That’s a collection translated by Professor
     Yang and me. An American edition of it has just come out. We didn’t make much money, but we got a lot of publicity.”
    “In today’s market, perhaps you could have a poetry collection of your own published here, and abroad too. You went to a conference
     in the United States not long ago, I remember. You know a lot of people there.”
    “Some,” Chen said, thinking Long must have heard stories about him as the head of the delegation attending the literature
     conference — if not about his police work there. “That is why I’m coming to you today. A publishing house is interested in
     a translation of Mao’s poetry.”
    “I’m not surprised. People know what a poet-translator you are,” Long said, crushing a crab claw with a small hammer — not a
     special crab hammer, but more likely a fine carpentry hammer, which served the purpose just as well. “I appreciate your thinking
     of me for the project. My annotated edition was published years ago, but I’ve recently
finished an index of the new publications on his poetry. You surely can have both of them.”
    “I have a copy of your annotated edition at home, but your new index may be very important. Since most of the books on the
     subject were published during the Cultural Revolution, the sourcing of their information was limited. You alone have continued
     your research, so you would have a lot of the latest information.”
    “I’ve been working on a manuscript about his work, but it is not finished yet. As for new information, there may not be such
     a lot, I’m afraid.”
    “I can’t wait to read it,” Chen said. In a manuscript meant for publication in China, however, the “new” material would be
     understandably limited. Nor would it provide what he was looking for. “Now with translation, the first step is interpretation.
     The poem Mao wrote for Madam Mao’s picture, for instance, could be a personal one.”
    “ ‘Inscription on a Picture of the Celestial Cave in the Lu Mountains Taken by Comrade Li Jin.’ ” Long began reciting the
     poem from memory, holding a crab claw like a stick of chalk.
“Against the gathering dusk stands a pine,