London, Jack
(San Francisco 1876-1916 Selbstmord ? Glen Ellen, Calif.) : Schriftsteller, Journalist
Name Alternative(s)
Griffith, John
Subjects
Index of Names : Occident
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Literature : Occident : United States of America
Chronology Entries (25)
| # | Year | Text | Linked Data |
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| 1 | 1900-1916 |
Jack London : allgemein. Quellen : Hearn, Lafcadio. Japan : an attempt at interpretation. (1904). Hearn, Lafcadio. Kokoro : hints and echoes of Japanese inner life. (1896). Hearn, Lafcadio. Glimpses of unfamiliar Japan. Bird, Isabella. Korea and her neighbors. 1893 Jack London visited Japan. He joined the crew of the Sophia Southerland. 1904 Jack London went to the Far East as war correspondent and photographer for the Russo-Japanese war, for the San Francisco Examiner, Collier's, the New York Herald and Harper's Magazine. He arrived in Tokyo aboard the SS. Siberia and traveled through Korea and Manchuria. Daniel A. Métraux : London was critical of Japanese officials and censors during the Russo- Japanese War, but his correspondence on Japanese soldiers and Chinese and Korean civilians was very sympathetic. After his return from Manchuria in 1904, and until his death in 1916, London's writings show increasing concern and admiration for the people of Asia and the South Pacific. He very accurately predicted that Asia was in the process of waking up, and that countries like Japan and China would emerge as major economic powers with the capacity to com-pete with the West as the twentieth century progressed. London also declared that West-erners must make concerted efforts to meet with Japanese and Chinese, so that they could begin to understand each other better as equals. During and after his time in Korea and Manchuria, London developed a thesis that postulated the rise, first of Japan and then of China, as major twentieth century economic and industrial powers. London suggested that Japan would not be satisfied with its seizure of Korea in the Russo-Japanese War, that it would in due course take over Manchuria, and would then seize control of China with the goal of using the Chinese with their huge pool of labor and their valuable resources for its own benefit. Once awakened by Japan, however, the Chinese would oust the Japanese and rise as a major industrial power whose economic prowess would cause the West so much distress, by the mid-1970s they would launch a violent attack on China to remove them as economic threats. He warned that the West was living in a bubble—that its incredible power and wealth, and its tenacious hold on Asia, would burst in due course, and that the center of world power would shift to East Asia. London predicted that initially the transition would be peaceful, because Asia’s rise would be primarily economic, but in the end, war between East and West would be inevitable. London predicted that Western nations, terrified of China's rising power, would unite and together do its utmost to savagely wipe out Chinese civilization. One of the major problems facing the West, London surmised, was that Westerners, living in their self-contained, ignorant bliss, had no understanding of Asian cultures and were far too confident of their superiority to realize that their days of world power were numbered. In dispatches from Korea and Manchuria during the Russo-Japanese War, and in several postwar essays, London analyzed the potential of the three major cultures he encountered, and predicted which ones would rise to world dominance. For London, and for other writers of the time, Russia’s defeat by Japan was a critically important turning point in the way the American press represented Asians; journalists began to challenge the long-held belief in the innate superiority of the white race. London made a clear distinction between the Chinese and the Japanese. He labeled the Chinese as the Yellow Peril and the Japanese as the Brown Peril. Even though Japan was on the ascent in 1904-1905, while China was moribund, London was confident that in the end, Japan lacked both the size and the spirit to lead an Asian renaissance. That task would devolve to China. He predicted that Japan would launch a crusade crying 'Asia for the Asiatics,' but that their contribution would be to act as a catalyst that would awaken the Chinese. London pointed out that the entire white population of Europa and North America was still outnumbered by Chinese and Japanese. Critics questioned how it would be possible to awaken China. The West had been trying to do just that for many decades and had failed. Then, how could the Japanese succeed? London's rather sophisticated response was that the Japanese better understood the Chinese because they had built their country on an imported foundation of Chinese culture. London also had considerable admiration for Chinese civilization and predicted that when its people "woke up," it would become a world superpower, becoming so powerful by 1976 that the nations of the West would rally together to curtail China's dominance. He found the Chinese to be intelligent, clever, pragmatic and extremely hard-working. Tragically, however, China had been held back by a conservative governing elite who feared innovation and who looked to the glories of their nation's past and shunned chances to learn from the technologically superior West or from the recent achievements of the Japanese. London believed that the only hope for the Chinese is a revolution from below, because the lethargic literati who governed China did so with an iron hand. The rulers would make no concessions to modernize China, for to do so would cause them to lose their power and wealth. The real tragedy, notes London, is that so little had changed in China for centuries because "government was in the hands of the learned classes, and that these governing scholars found their salvation lay in suppressing all progressive ideas." London predicted that the Chinese Revolution and future ascendancy would be triggered by a Japanese invasion of China. Looking to the future in 1905, London conjectured that Japan would never be satisfied with control over Korea. Just above Korea lay Manchuria, with its huge deposits of coal and iron, the very ingredients that Japan would need to expand its industrial empire. South of Manchuria lay 400 million highly disciplined workers who, if harnessed by the Japanese, could become the factory workers and miners who would make Japan a truly great world power. London predicted that Japan would go to war with China to maintain its status as a great power, but ultimately the Japanese met defeat and lost their empire in Taiwan, Korea and Manchuria. Japan then became a peaceful nation no longer interested in remaining as a major military power. But to everybody's surprise, China too was not war-like—her strength lay "in the fecundity of her loins" and by 1970 the country's population stood at a half billion and was spilling over its boundaries. In 1970, when France made a stand for Indo-China, China sent down an army of a million men and "The French force was brushed aside like a fly." France then landed a punitive expedition of 250,000 men and watched as it was "swallowed up in China's cavernous maw. . . ." Then as China expanded Siam fell, the southern boundary of Siberia was pressed hard and all other border areas from India to Central Asia were absorbed, as well as Burma and what is now Malaysia. The Great Powers of Europe came together and decided that the Chinese threat must be eradicated. They sent a great military and naval force towards China which in turn mobilized all of its forces. But although the great armies approached each other, there was no invasion. Instead, on May 1st, 1976, an airship flew over Peking dropping tubes of fragile glass that fell on the city and shattered. In due course all of China was bombarded with the glass tubes filled with microbes and bacilli. Within six weeks most of Peking's 11 million people were dead of plagues and every virulent form of infectious disease: smallpox, scarlet fever, yellow fever, cholera, bubonic plague. Before long much of the rest of China experienced the same catastrophe and much of the country became an empty wilderness. London concludes his story commenting on the downfall of China with its billion citizens. It is highly ironic that London so clearly foresaw Japan's eventual seizure of Korea and Manchuria, and its long, difficult invasion of China. Most importantly, he saw that Japan would not be satisfied with the mere defeat of Russia and the seizure of Korea and small parts of southern Manchuria. He foresaw that the Japanese would want to become the powerhouse of Asia and that they would come to realize that they would benefit if they could employ the power of four hun¬dred million Chinese working on their behalf. History tells us that Japan did indeed invade Manchuria for its fertile land and rich natural resources in 1931 and that it invaded China later in the 1930s and 1940s to force the Chinese to accept Japanese supremacy there. A number of Japanese industrialists did indeed build profitable factories in several Chinese cities employing cheap Chinese labor and the Japanese military even installed its own puppet Chinese government in China. London correctly predicted that Japan's incursion into China would so enrage the Chinese that they would rise up and expel the Japanese. This awakening of the "sleeping dragon" of China which in turn would lead to that nation's emergence as a major world power. London penetrates the hearts and souls of non-white people who have suffered deeply from the exploitation of the Anglo-Saxon, but there is very little that is moralistic or didactic in his style. While London shows sympathy for many of his non-white characters, he is above all an artist who attempts to develop the full personalities of the key people in his stories. London was more than a mere chronicler of the twentieth century. He had read exentsively about Japanese and Chinese history before starting his mission as a journalist and had a keen eye for regional history and culture. London, while in Korea demonstrated little respect for Koreans and wrote about them in very negative terms. Only later in his career did he develop genuine respect for Koreans and their culture. He had little faith in the ability of Koreans to save their nation, but was full of praise for the Japanese and Chinese whose rise he predicted in his early writings. Joe Lockard : London repeatedly claims that ther is no true common language between China and the West, that ther exists and unbridgeable divide between these polarized human cultures. As argument, London relates language and writing systems of dunamental opposition between an adaptive but static East and an active, intentive West. The capacity to alter history lies in flexible inventiveness manifested in Europa and the United States whereas China remains in history's cocoon, trapped by its hieroglyphic literacy that reveals an inferior mentality. When London encounters language difference in Asia he posits a hierarchy of human expressive capacity. London's racial attitudes were doubtless complex, shifting, and filtered through his wide variety of experience with human difference. While his critical repuation in China has plunged drastically, the number of new London translations continues to rise and translation introductions remain silen on racism in London's work. |
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| 2 | 1902 |
London, Jack. The cruise of the Dazzler. (New York, N.Y. : Century Co., 1902). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/11051/11051.txt "None of yer business," the newcomer retorted tartly. "But, if it 'll do you any good, I 'm a fireman on the China steamers, and, as I said, I 'm goin' to see fair play. That 's my business… "Quarantine station. Lots of smallpox coming in now on the China steamers, and they make them go there till the doctors say they 're safe to land. I tell you, they 're strict about it, too… |
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| 3 | 1903 |
London, Jack. The people of the abyss. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1903). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1688/1688.txt He had been through the "First War in China," as he termed it; had enlisted with the East India Company and served ten years in India; was back in India again, in the English navy, at the time of the Mutiny; had served in the Burmese War and in the Crimea; and all this in addition to having fought and toiled for the English flag pretty well over the rest of the globe… There is a Chinese proverb that if one man lives in laziness another will die of hunger… Mathias of Dargai, Dixon of Vlakfontein; General Gaselee and Admiral Seymour of China; Kitchener of Khartoum; Lord Roberts of India... |
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| 4 | 1904 |
London, Jack. The yellow peril. In : San Francisco Examiner ; 25 Sept. (1904). In : London, Jack. Revolution and other essays. (London : Macmillan, 1910). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/4953/4953.txt No more marked contrast appears in passing from our Western land to the paper houses and cherry blossoms of Japan than appears in passing from Korea to China. To achieve a correct appreciation of the Chinese the traveller should first sojourn amongst the Koreans for several months, and then, one fine day, cross over the Yalu into Manchuria. It would be of exceptional advantage to the correctness of appreciation did he cross over the Yalu on the heels of a hostile and alien army. War is to-day the final arbiter in the affairs of men, and it is as yet the final test of the worth-whileness of peoples. Tested thus, the Korean fails. He lacks the nerve to remain when a strange army crosses his land. The few goods and chattels he may have managed to accumulate he puts on his back, along with his doors and windows, and away he heads for his mountain fastnesses. Later he may return, sans goods, chattels, doors, and windows, impelled by insatiable curiosity for a "look see." But it is curiosity merely--a timid, deerlike curiosity. He is prepared to bound away on his long legs at the first hint of danger or trouble. Northern Korea was a desolate land when the Japanese passed through. Villages and towns were deserted. The fields lay untouched. There was no ploughing nor sowing, no green things growing. Little or nothing was to be purchased. One carried one's own food with him and food for horses and servants was the anxious problem that waited at the day's end. In many a lonely village not an ounce nor a grain of anything could be bought, and yet there might be standing around scores of white-garmented, stalwart Koreans, smoking yard-long pipes and chattering, chattering--ceaselessly chattering. Love, money, or force could not procure from them a horseshoe or a horseshoe nail. "Upso," was their invariable reply. "Upso," cursed word, which means "Have not got." They had tramped probably forty miles that day, down from their hiding-places, just for a "look see," and forty miles back they would cheerfully tramp, chattering all the way over what they had seen. Shake a stick at them as they stand chattering about your camp-fire, and the gloom of the landscape will be filled with tall, flitting ghosts, bounding like deer, with great springy strides which one cannot but envy. They have splendid vigour and fine bodies, but they are accustomed to being beaten and robbed without protest or resistance by every chance foreigner who enters their country. From this nerveless, forsaken Korean land I rode down upon the sandy islands of the Yalu. For weeks these islands had been the dread between-the-lines of two fighting armies. The air above had been rent by screaming projectiles. The echoes of the final battle had scarcely died away. The trains of Japanese wounded and Japanese dead were trailing by. On the conical hill, a quarter of a mile away, the Russian dead were being buried in their trenches and in the shell holes made by the Japanese. And here, in the thick of it all, a man was ploughing. Green things were growing--young onions--and the man who was weeding them paused from his labour long enough to sell me a handful. Near by was the smoke-blackened ruin of the farmhouse, fired by the Russians when they retreated from the riverbed. Two men were removing the debris, cleaning the confusion, preparatory to rebuilding. They were clad in blue. Pigtails hung down their backs. I was in China! I rode to the shore, into the village of Kuelian-Ching. There were no lounging men smoking long pipes and chattering. The previous day the Russians had been there, a bloody battle had been fought, and to-day the Japanese were there--but what was that to talk about? Everybody was busy. Men were offering eggs and chickens and fruit for sale upon the street, and bread, as I live, bread in small round loaves or buns. I rode on into the country. Everywhere a toiling population was in evidence. The houses and walls were strong and substantial. Stone and brick replaced the mud walls of the Korean dwellings. Twilight fell and deepened, and still the ploughs went up and down the fields, the sowers following after. Trains of wheelbarrows, heavily loaded, squeaked by, and Pekin carts, drawn by from four to six cows, horses, mules, ponies, or jackasses--cows even with their newborn calves tottering along on puny legs outside the traces. Everybody worked. Everything worked. I saw a man mending the road. I was in China. I came to the city of Antung, and lodged with a merchant. He was a grain merchant. Corn he had, hundreds of bushels, stored in great bins of stout matting; peas and beans in sacks, and in the back yard his millstones went round and round, grinding out meal. Also, in his back yard, were buildings containing vats sunk into the ground, and here the tanners were at work making leather. I bought a measure of corn from mine host for my horses, and he overcharged me thirty cents. I was in China. Antung was jammed with Japanese troops. It was the thick of war. But it did not matter. The work of Antung went on just the same. The shops were wide open; the streets were lined with pedlars. One could buy anything; get anything made. I dined at a Chinese restaurant, cleansed myself at a public bath in a private tub with a small boy to assist in the scrubbing. I bought condensed milk, bitter, canned vegetables, bread, and cake. I repeat it, cake--good cake. I bought knives, forks, and spoons, granite-ware dishes and mugs. There were horseshoes and horseshoers. A worker in iron realized for me new designs of mine for my tent poles. My shoes were sent out to be repaired. A barber shampooed my hair. A servant returned with corn-beef in tins, a bottle of port, another of cognac, and beer, blessed beer, to wash out from my throat the dust of an army. It was the land of Canaan. I was in China. The Korean is the perfect type of inefficiency--of utter worthlessness. The Chinese is the perfect type of industry. For sheer work no worker in the world can compare with him. Work is the breath of his nostrils. It is his solution of existence. It is to him what wandering and fighting in far lands and spiritual adventure have been to other peoples. Liberty to him epitomizes itself in access to the means of toil. To till the soil and labour interminably with rude implements and utensils is all he asks of life and of the powers that be. Work is what he desires above all things, and he will work at anything for anybody. During the taking of the Taku forts he carried scaling ladders at the heads of the storming columns and planted them against the walls. He did this, not from a sense of patriotism, but for the invading foreign devils because they paid him a daily wage of fifty cents. He is not frightened by war. He accepts it as he does rain and sunshine, the changing of the seasons, and other natural phenomena. He prepares for it, endures it, and survives it, and when the tide of battle sweeps by, the thunder of the guns still reverberating in the distant canyons, he is seen calmly bending to his usual tasks. Nay, war itself bears fruits whereof he may pick. Before the dead are cold or the burial squads have arrived he is out on the field, stripping the mangled bodies, collecting the shrapnel, and ferreting in the shell holes for slivers and fragments of iron. The Chinese is no coward. He does not carry away his doors amid windows to the mountains, but remains to guard them when alien soldiers occupy his town. He does not hide away his chickens and his eggs, nor any other commodity he possesses. He proceeds at once to offer them for sale. Nor is he to be bullied into lowering his price. What if the purchaser be a soldier and an alien made cocky by victory and confident by overwhelming force? He has two large pears saved over from last year which he will sell for five sen, or for the same price three small pears. What if one soldier persist in taking away with him three large pears? What if there be twenty other soldiers jostling about him? He turns over his sack of fruit to another Chinese and races down the street after his pears and the soldier responsible for their flight, and he does not return till he has wrenched away one large pear from that soldier's grasp. Nor is the Chinese the type of permanence which he has been so often designated. He is not so ill-disposed toward new ideas and new methods as his history would seem to indicate. True, his forms, customs, and methods have been permanent these many centuries, but this has been due to the fact that his government was in the hands of the learned classes, and that these governing scholars found their salvation lay in suppressing all progressive ideas. The ideas behind the Boxer troubles and the outbreaks over the introduction of railroad and other foreign devil machinations have emanated from the minds of the literati, and been spread by their pamphlets and propagandists. Originality and enterprise have been suppressed in the Chinese for scores of generations. Only has remained to him industry, and in this has he found the supreme expression of his being. On the other hand, his susceptibility to new ideas has been well demonstrated wherever he has escaped beyond the restrictions imposed upon him by his government. So far as the business man is concerned he has grasped far more clearly the Western code of business, the Western ethics of business, than has the Japanese. He has learned, as a matter of course, to keep his word or his bond. As yet, the Japanese business man has failed to understand this. When he has signed a time contract and when changing conditions cause him to lose by it, the Japanese merchant cannot understand why he should live up to his contract. It is beyond his comprehension and repulsive to his common sense that he should live up to his contract and thereby lose money. He firmly believes that the changing conditions themselves absolve him. And in so far adaptable as he has shown himself to be in other respects, he fails to grasp a radically new idea where the Chinese succeeds. Here we have the Chinese, four hundred millions of him, occupying a vast land of immense natural resources--resources of a twentieth-century age, of a machine age; resources of coal and iron, which are the backbone of commercial civilization. He is an indefatigable worker. He is not dead to new ideas, new methods, new systems. Under a capable management he can be made to do anything. Truly would he of himself constitute the much-heralded Yellow Peril were it not for his present management. This management, his government, is set, crystallized. It is what binds him down to building as his fathers built. The governing class, entrenched by the precedent and power of centuries and by the stamp it has put upon his mind, will never free him. It would be the suicide of the governing class, and the governing class knows it. Comes now the Japanese. On the streets of Antung, of Feng-Wang-Chang, or of any other Manchurian city, the following is a familiar scene: One is hurrying home through the dark of the unlighted streets when he comes upon a paper lantern resting on the ground. On one side squats a Chinese civilian on his hams, on the other side squats a Japanese soldier. One dips his forefinger in the dust and writes strange, monstrous characters. The other nods understanding, sweeps the dust slate level with his hand, and with his forefinger inscribes similar characters. They are talking. They cannot speak to each other, but they can write. Long ago one borrowed the other's written language, and long before that, untold generations ago, they diverged from a common root, the ancient Mongol stock. There have been changes, differentiations brought about by diverse conditions and infusions of other blood; but down at the bottom of their being, twisted into the fibres of them, is a heritage in common--a sameness in kind which time has not obliterated. The infusion of other blood, Malay, perhaps, has made the Japanese a race of mastery and power, a fighting race through all its history, a race which has always despised commerce and exalted fighting. To-day, equipped with the finest machines and systems of destruction the Caucasian mind has devised, handling machines and systems with remarkable and deadly accuracy, this rejuvenescent Japanese race has embarked on a course of conquest the goal of which no man knows. The head men of Japan are dreaming ambitiously, and the people are dreaming blindly, a Napoleonic dream. And to this dream the Japanese clings and will cling with bull-dog tenacity. The soldier shouting "Nippon, Banzai!" on the walls of Wiju, the widow at home in her paper house committing suicide so that her only son, her sole support, may go to the front, are both expressing the unanimity of the dream. The late disturbance in the Far East marked the clashing of the dreams, for the Slav, too, is dreaming greatly. Granting that the Japanese can hurl back the Slav and that the two great branches of the Anglo-Saxon race do not despoil him of his spoils, the Japanese dream takes on substantiality. Japan's population is no larger because her people have continually pressed against the means of subsistence. But given poor, empty Korea for a breeding colony and Manchuria for a granary, and at once the Japanese begins to increase by leaps and bounds. Even so, he would not of himself constitute a Brown Peril. He has not the time in which to grow and realize the dream. He is only forty-five millions, and so fast does the economic exploitation of the planet hurry on the planet's partition amongst the Western peoples that, before he could attain the stature requisite to menace, he would see the Western giants in possession of the very stuff of his dream. The menace to the Western world lies, not in the little brown man, but in the four hundred millions of yellow men should the little brown man undertake their management. The Chinese is not dead to new ideas; he is an efficient worker; makes a good soldier, and is wealthy in the essential materials of a machine age. Under a capable management he will go far. The Japanese is prepared and fit to undertake this management. Not only has he proved himself an apt imitator of Western material progress, a sturdy worker, and a capable organizer, but he is far more fit to manage the Chinese than are we. The baffling enigma of the Chinese character is no baffling enigma to him. He understands as we could never school ourselves nor hope to understand. Their mental processes are largely the same. He thinks with the same thought-symbols as does the Chinese, and he thinks in the same peculiar grooves. He goes on where we are balked by the obstacles of incomprehension. He takes the turning which we cannot perceive, twists around the obstacle, and, presto! is out of sight in the ramifications of the Chinese mind where we cannot follow. The Chinese has been called the type of permanence, and well he has merited it, dozing as he has through the ages. And as truly was the Japanese the type of permanence up to a generation ago, when he suddenly awoke and startled the world with a rejuvenescence the like of which the world had never seen before. The ideas of the West were the leaven which quickened the Japanese; and the ideas of the West, transmitted by the Japanese mind into ideas Japanese, may well make the leaven powerful enough to quicken the Chinese. We have had Africa for the Afrikander, and at no distant day we shall hear "Asia for the Asiatic!" Four hundred million indefatigable workers (deft, intelligent, and unafraid to die), aroused and rejuvenescent, managed and guided by forty-five million additional human beings who are splendid fighting animals, scientific and modern, constitute that menace to the Western world which has been well named the "Yellow Peril." The possibility of race adventure has not passed away. We are in the midst of our own. The Slav is just girding himself up to begin. Why may not the yellow and the brown start out on an adventure as tremendous as our own and more strikingly unique? The ultimate success of such an adventure the Western mind refuses to consider. It is not the nature of life to believe itself weak. There is such a thing as race egotism as well as creature egotism, and a very good thing it is. In the first place, the Western world will not permit the rise of the yellow peril. It is firmly convinced that it will not permit the yellow and the brown to wax strong and menace its peace and comfort. It advances this idea with persistency, and delivers itself of long arguments showing how and why this menace will not be permitted to arise. To-day, far more voices are engaged in denying the yellow peril than in prophesying it. The Western world is warned, if not armed, against the possibility of it. In the second place, there is a weakness inherent in the brown man which will bring his adventure to naught. From the West he has borrowed all our material achievement and passed our ethical achievement by. Our engines of production and destruction he has made his. What was once solely ours he now duplicates, rivalling our merchants in the commerce of the East, thrashing the Russian on sea and land. A marvellous imitator truly, but imitating us only in things material. Things spiritual cannot be imitated; they must be felt and lived, woven into the very fabric of life, and here the Japanese fails. It required no revolution of his nature to learn to calculate the range and fire a field gun or to march the goose-step. It was a mere matter of training. Our material achievement is the product of our intellect. It is knowledge, and knowledge, like coin, is interchangeable. It is not wrapped up in the heredity of the new-born child, but is something to be acquired afterward. Not so with our soul stuff, which is the product of an evolution which goes back to the raw beginnings of the race. Our soul stuff is not a coin to be pocketed by the first chance comer. The Japanese cannot pocket it any more than he can thrill to short Saxon words or we can thrill to Chinese hieroglyphics. The leopard cannot change its spots, nor can the Japanese, nor can we. We are thumbed by the ages into what we are, and by no conscious inward effort can we in a day rethumb ourselves. Nor can the Japanese in a day, or a generation, rethumb himself in our image. Back of our own great race adventure, back of our robberies by sea and land, our lusts and violences and all the evil things we have done, there is a certain integrity, a sternness of conscience, a melancholy responsibility of life, a sympathy and comradeship and warm human feel, which is ours, indubitably ours, and which we cannot teach to the Oriental as we would teach logarithms or the trajectory of projectiles. That we have groped for the way of right conduct and agonized over the soul betokens our spiritual endowment. Though we have strayed often and far from righteousness, the voices of the seers have always been raised, and we have harked back to the bidding of conscience. The colossal fact of our history is that we have made the religion of Jesus Christ our religion. No matter how dark in error and deed, ours has been a history of spiritual struggle and endeavour. We are pre-eminently a religious race, which is another way of saying that we are a right-seeking race. "What do you think of the Japanese?" was asked an American woman after she had lived some time in Japan. "It seems to me that they have no soul," was her answer. This must not be taken to mean that the Japanese is without soul. But it serves to illustrate the enormous difference between their souls and this woman's soul. There was no feel, no speech, no recognition. This Western soul did not dream that the Eastern soul existed, it was so different, so totally different. Religion, as a battle for the right in our sense of right, as a yearning and a strife for spiritual good and purity, is unknown to the Japanese. Measured by what religion means to us, the Japanese is a race without religion. Yet it has a religion, and who shall say that it is not as great a religion as ours, nor as efficacious? As one Japanese has written: "Our reflection brought into prominence not so much the moral as the national consciousness of the individual... To us the country is more than land and soil from which to mine gold or reap grain--it is the sacred abode of the gods, the spirit of our forefathers; to us the Emperor is more than the Arch Constable of a Reichsstaat, or even the Patron of a Kulturstaat; he is the bodily representative of heaven on earth, blending in his person its power and its mercy." The religion of Japan is practically a worship of the State itself. Patriotism is the expression of this worship. The Japanese mind does not split hairs as to whether the Emperor is Heaven incarnate or the State incarnate. So far as the Japanese are concerned, the Emperor lives, is himself deity. The Emperor is the object to live for and to die for. The Japanese is not an individualist. He has developed national consciousness instead of moral consciousness. He is not interested in his own moral welfare except in so far as it is the welfare of the State. The honour of the individual, per se, does not exist. Only exists the honour of the State, which is his honour. He does not look upon himself as a free agent, working out his own personal salvation. Spiritual agonizing is unknown to him. He has a "sense of calm trust in fate, a quiet submission to the inevitable, a stoic composure in sight of danger or calamity, a disdain of life and friendliness with death." He relates himself to the State as, amongst bees, the worker is related to the hive; himself nothing, the State everything; his reasons for existence the exaltation and glorification of the State. The most admired quality to-day of the Japanese is his patriotism. The Western world is in rhapsodies over it, unwittingly measuring the Japanese patriotism by its own conceptions of patriotism. "For God, my country, and the Czar!" cries the Russian patriot; but in the Japanese mind there is no differentiation between the three. The Emperor is the Emperor, and God and country as well. The patriotism of the Japanese is blind and unswerving loyalty to what is practically an absolutism. The Emperor can do no wrong, nor can the five ambitious great men who have his ear and control the destiny of Japan. No great race adventure can go far nor endure long which has no deeper foundation than material success, no higher prompting than conquest for conquest's sake and mere race glorification. To go far and to endure, it must have behind it an ethical impulse, a sincerely conceived righteousness. But it must be taken into consideration that the above postulate is itself a product of Western race-egotism, urged by our belief in our own righteousness and fostered by a faith in ourselves which may be as erroneous as are most fond race fancies. So be it. The world is whirling faster to-day than ever before. It has gained impetus. Affairs rush to conclusion. The Far East is the point of contact of the adventuring Western people as well as of the Asiatic. We shall not have to wait for our children's time nor our children's children. We shall ourselves see and largely determine the adventure of the Yellow and the Brown. FENG-WANG-CHENG, MANCHURIA. June 1904 Sekundärliteratur Joe Lockard : London believes that white men will prevail because Asian lack souls and cannot engage in spiritual introspection. It is precisely London's belief that the spread of 'the Yellow and the Brown' represents a spread of dead or alien spirits that enables him to imagine human extermination on a mass scale. If no spiritual translation is possible, then genocide can cleanse the land and make it available to whites who possess souls that can be comprehended. |
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| 5 | 1904 |
London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1074/1074.txt She was like a bit of Dresden china, and I was continually impressed with what I may call her fragility… To my delight she never once looked toward the beach, and I maintained the banter with such success all unconsciously she sipped coffee from the china cup… I saw the surprise that came over her. She had discovered the china plate from which she was eating… |
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| 6 | 1905 |
London, Jack. Tales of the fish patrol. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1905). http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext97/totfp10.txt White and yellow. Wildest among the fisher-folk may be accounted the Chinese shrimp-catchers. It is the habit of the shrimp to crawl along the bottom in vast armies till it reaches fresh water, when it turns about and crawls back again to the salt. And where the tide ebbs and flows, the Chinese sink great bag-nets to the bottom, with gaping mouths, into which the shrimp crawls and from which it is transferred to the boiling-pot… After a deal of work among the Greek fishermen of the Upper Bay and rivers, where knives flashed at the beginning of trouble and men permitted themselves to be made prisoners only after a revolver was thrust in their faces, we hailed with delight an expedition to the Lower Bay against the Chinese shrimp-catchers… While waiting for slack water, in which to lift their heavy nets from the bed of the bay, the Chinese had all gone to sleep below… The decks were beginning to swarm with half-awakened and half-naked Chinese… A big Chinaman, remarkably evil-looking, with his head swathed in a yellow silk handkerchief and face badly pock-marked, planted a pike-pole on the Reindeer's bow and began to shove the entangled boats apart… I was unarmed, but the Chinese have learned to be fastidiously careful of American hip pockets, and it was upon this that I depended to keep him and his savage crew at a distance… And here, as with my junk, four Chinese were transferred to the sloop and one left behind to take care of things… Some of the Chinese stood in the forward part of the cockpit, near the cabin doors, and once, as I leaned over the cockpit rail to flatten down the jib-sheet a bit, I felt some one brush against my hip pocket… The Chinese could see the funk he was in as well as I could, and their insolence became insufferable… "The safest thing to do," he chattered cravenly, "is to put them ashore. I, for one, don't want to be drowned for the sake of a handful of dirty Chinamen."… He made no reply, but I could see he was trembling pitifully. Between the threatening Chinese and the rising water he was beside himself with fright; and, more than the Chinese and the water, I feared him and what his fright might impel him to do… He grinned in a sickly fashion. "Yep, I sabbe velly much. I honest Chinaman." "All right," I answered. "You sabbe talkee talkee, then you bail water plenty plenty. After that we talkee talkee." He shook his head, at the same time pointing over his shoulder to his comrades. "No can do. Velly bad Chinamen, heap velly bad. I t'ink-um--"… Our voices were raised, and the sound of the altercation brought the Chinese out of the cabin… And out of the tail of my eye I could see the Chinese crowding together by the cabin doors and leering triumphantly. It would never do… It was the steady breeze I had been expecting so long. I called to the Chinese and pointed it out. They hailed it with exclamations… While I pressed her under and debated whether I should give up or not, the Chinese cried for mercy… But the Chinese scrambled madly into the cockpit and fell to bailing with buckets, pots, pans, and everything they could lay hands on… The spirit of the Chinese was broken, and so docile did they become that ere we made San Rafael they were out with the tow-rope, Yellow Handkerchief at the head of the line… |
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| 7 | 1906 |
London, Jack. Brown wolf and other Jack London stories. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1906). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/12336/12336.txt Yellow handkerchief. We ran forward, and found her bowsprit entangled in the tanned rigging of a short, chunky mast. She had collided, head on, with a Chinese junk lying at anchor. At the moment we arrived forward, five Chinese, like so many bees, came swarming out of the little 'tween-decks cabin, the sleep still in their eyes. Leading them came a big, muscular man, conspicuous for his pock-marked face and the yellow silk handkerchief swathed about his head. It was Yellow Handkerchief, the Chinaman whom we had arrested for illegal shrimp-fishing the year before, and who, at that time, had nearly sunk the Reindeer, as he had nearly sunk it now by violating the rules of navigation… In a couple of minutes we ran softly alongside the bank, and the sail was silently lowered. The Chinese kept very quiet. Yellow Handkerchief sat down in the bottom alongside of me, and I could feel him straining to repress his raspy, hacking cough… What was to happen next I could not imagine, for the Chinese were a different race from mine and from what I knew I was confident that fair play was no part of their make-up… I was familiar enough with the Chinese character to know that fear alone restrained them… Three of the Chinese--they all wore long sea-boots--got over the side, and the other two passed me across the rail. With Yellow Handkerchief at my legs and his two companions at my shoulders, they began to flounder along through the mud…. Half swimming, half wading, with my head just out of water and avoiding splashing, I succeeded in putting about a hundred feet between myself and the spot where the Chinese had begun to wade ashore from the junk. I drew myself out on the mud and remained lying flat… The heathen. The six of us cabin passengers were pearl-buyers. Two were Americans, one was A Choon (the whitest Chinese I have ever known), one was a German, one was a Polish Jew, and I completed the half dozen… |
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| 8 | 1907 |
London, Jack. The road. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1907). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/14658/14658.txt Road-kids and gay-cats. We took our position on K Street, on the corner, I think, of Fifth. It was early in the evening and the street was crowded. Bob studied the head-gear of every Chinaman that passed. I used to wonder how the road-kids all managed to wear "five-dollar Stetson stiff-rims," and now I knew. They got them, the way I was going to get mine, from the Chinese. I was nervous--there were so many people about; but Bob was cool as an iceberg. Several times, when I started forward toward a Chinaman, all nerved and keyed up, Bob dragged me back… He sent a sweeping look-about for police, then nodded his head. I lifted the hat from the Chinaman's head and pulled it down on my own. It was a perfect fit. Then I started. I heard Bob crying out, and I caught a glimpse of him blocking the irate Mongolian and tripping him up. I ran on. I turned up the next corner, and around the next. This street was not so crowded as K, and I walked along in quietude, catching my breath and congratulating myself upon my hat and my get-away. And then, suddenly, around the corner at my back, came the bare-headed Chinaman. With him were a couple more Chinamen, and at their heels were half a dozen men and boys. I sprinted to the next corner, crossed the street, and rounded the following corner. I decided that I had surely played him out, and I dropped into a walk again. But around the corner at my heels came that persistent Mongolian. It was the old story of the hare and the tortoise. He could not run so fast as I, but he stayed with it, plodding along at a shambling and deceptive trot, and wasting much good breath in noisy imprecations. He called all Sacramento to witness the dishonor that had been done him, and a goodly portion of Sacramento heard and flocked at his heels. And I ran on like the hare, and ever that persistent Mongolian, with the increasing rabble, overhauled me. But finally, when a policeman had joined his following, I let out all my links. I twisted and turned, and I swear I ran at least twenty blocks on the straight away. And I never saw that Chinaman again. The hat was a dandy, a brand-new Stetson, just out of the shop, and it was the envy of the whole push. Furthermore, it was the symbol that I had delivered the goods. I wore it for over a year… Two thousand stiffs. And years afterward, in China, I had the grief of learning that the device we employed to navigate the rapids of the Des Moines--the one-two-one-two, head-boat-tail-boat proposition--was not originated by us. I learned that the Chinese river-boatmen had for thousands of years used a similar device to negotiate "bad water."… |
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| 9 | 1909 |
London, Jack. If Japan awakens China [ID D34482]. [London wrote this piece in 1909, five years after his return from Manchuria. He predicts the rise of Japan and its endeavor to transform itself into a major world power by harnessing the labor of four hundred million Chinese. The Chinese, in turn, would eventually overthrow their conservative leaders, drive out the Japanese and develop a prosperous modern economy.] When one man does not understand another man's mental processes, how can the one forecast the other’s future actions? This is precisely the situation today between the white race and the Japanese. In spite of all our glib talk to the contrary, we know nothing (and less than nothing in so far as we think we know something), of the Japanese. It is a weakness of man to believe that all mankind is moulded in his own image, and it is a weakness of the white race to believe that the Japanese think as we think, are moved to action as we are moved and have points of view similar to our own. Perhaps one white man in the world best fitted by nature and opportunity to know the Japanese was Lafcadio Hearn. To begin with, he was an artist, and he possessed to an extreme degree the artists’ sympathy. By this I mean that his sympathy was of an order that permits a may to get out of himself and into the soul of another man, thus enabling him to lodv at life out of that man’s eyes and from that man’s point of view—to be that man, in short. Lafcadio Hearn went to Japan. He identified himself with the Japanese. To all intents and purposes he became a Japanese. A professor at a Japanese university, he took to himself a Japanese wife, lived in a Japanese household, and even renounced his own country and became a Japanese citizen. Being an artist, enthusiastically in touch with his subject, he preceded to interpret the Japanese to the English-speaking world, turning out the most wonderful series of books on Japan ever written by an Occidental. The years passed, and ever he turned out more of his wonderful books, interpreting, explaining, elaborating, formulating, every big aspect and minute detail of the Japanese mind. Just at the beginning of the Russo-Japanese war, full of years and wise with much experience, Lafcadio Hearn died. His last book was in the press, and it appeared shortly afterward. It was entitled, ‘"Japan: An Interpretation.” In the forward Lafcadio Hearn made a confession. He said that after all his years of intimate living with the Japanese, he was at last just on the verge of beginning to understand the Japanese. And he felt justified in this belief, by virtue of the fact that he had taken all those years to find out that he knew nothing of the Japanese. This was a hopeful sign. He had come farther than any white man, who still believed they did know something, in greater or lesser degree, of the Japanese. As for himself, after many years of thinking, he knew, he frankly confessed, that the Japanese mind baffled him. He told of the Japanese schoolboys with whom he had been in daily contact—of how' he had watched their mind unfold and expand as they grew into manhood. And he had sadly explained that now that the)' w'ere men, Japanese men. our in the world of Japanese men, they were strangers to him. Oh. they greeted him, and shook hands with him and talked with him as of yore; but they were soul-strangers to him. He looked into their faces but not their souls. He saw their eyes, but no glimmering could he catch of what went on behind those eyes. Their mental processes were veiled to him. Why they did this that or some other action was a puzzle to him. He found them actuated by motives he could not guess—motives generated in the labyrinths of their minds where he could not follow the process. Life appeared to them in perspective differently from the way it appeared to him. And he could get no inkling of that perspective. To him it was an inconceivable fourth dimension. And so he wrote that last sad forward to that last sad book of his, gazing mournfully the while into the mysterious eyes of Asia, which had baffled him as they have baffled men of the West from the days of Marco Polo to this our day. The point that I have striven to make is that much of the reasoning of the white race about the Japanese is erroneous, because is it based on fancied knowledge of the stuff and fiber of the Japanese mind. An American lady of my acquaintance, after residing for months in Japan, in response to a query as to how she liked the Japanese, said: "They have no souls." In this she was wrong. The Japanese are just as much possessed of a soul as she and the rest of her race. And far be it from me to infer that the Japanese soul is in the smallest way inferior to the Western soul. It may even be superior. You see, we do not know’ the Japanese soul, and what its value may be in the scheme of things. And yet that American lady’s remark but emphasizes the point. So different was the Japanese soul from hers, so unutterably alien, so absolutely without any kinship or means of communication, that to her there w as no slightest sign of its existence. Japan, in her remarkable evolution, has repeatedly surprised the world. Now the element of suiprise can be present only when one is unfamiliar with the data that go to constitute the surprise. Had we really know'n the Japanese, we should not have been surprised. And as she has surprised us in the past, and only the other day, may she not surprise us in the days that are yet to be? And since she may surprise us in the future, and since ignorance is the meat and wine of surprise, who are we, and with what second sight are we invested, that we may calmly say: "Surprise is all very well, but there is not going to be any Yellow peril or Japanese peril?" There are forty-five million Japanese in the world. There are over four hundred million Chinese. That is to say, that if we add together the various branches of the the white race, the English, the French, and the German, the Austrian, the Scandinavian, and the white Russian, he Latins as well, the Americans, the Canadians, Australians and New Zealanders, the South Africans, the Anglo Indians, and all the scattered remnants of us, we shall find that we are still outnumbered by the combined Japanese and Chinese. We understand the Chinese mind no more than we do the Japanese. What if these two races, as homogenous as we, should embark on some vast race-adventure? There have been no race adventures in the past. We English-speaking peoples are just now in the midst of our own great adventure. We are dreaming as all race-adventurers have of dreamed. And who will dare to say that in the Japanese mind is not burning some colossal Napoleonic dream? And what if the dreams clash? Japan is the one unique Asiatic race, in that alone among the races of Asia, she has been able to borrow from us and equip herself with all our material achievement. Our machinery of warfare, of commerce, and of industry she has made hers. And so well has she done it that we have been surprised. We did not think she had it in her. Next consider China. We of the West have tried, and tried vainly, to awaken her. We have failed to express our material achievements in terms comprehensible to the Chinese mind. We do not know the Chinese mind. But Japan does. She and China spring from the same primitive stock—their languages are rooted in the same primitive tongue; and their mental processes are the same. The Chinese mind may baffle us, but it cannot baffle the Japanese. And what if Japan wakens China—not to our dream, if you please, but to her dream, to Japan’s dream? Japan, having taken from us all our material achievement, is alone able to transmute that material achievement in terms intelligible to the Chinese mind. The Chinese and Japanese are thrifty and industrious. China possesses great natural resources of coal and iron—and coal and iron constitute the backbone of machine civilization. When our hundred and fifty million of the best workers in the world go into manufacturing, a new competitor, and a most ominous and formidable one, will enter the arena where the races struggle for the world- market. Here is the race-adventure—the first clashing of the Asiatic dream with ours. It is true, it is only an economic clash, but economic clashes always precede clashes at arms. And what then? Oh, only that will-o’-wisp, the Yellow peril. But to the Russian, Japan was only a will-o’-wisp until one day, with fire and steel, she smashed the great adventure of the Russian and punctured the bubble-dream he was dreaming. Of this be sure: if ever the day comes that our dreams clash with that of the Yellow and the Brown, and our particular bubble-dream is punctured, there will be one country at least unsurprised, and that country will be Russia. She was awakened from her dream. We are still dreaming. |
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| 10 | 1919 |
London, Jack. Revolution and other essays. (London : Macmillan, 1910). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/4953/4953.txt Goliah. Strange stories of blacks stolen from Africa were remembered, of Chinese and Japanese contract coolies who had mysteriously disappeared, of lonely South Sea Islands raided and their inhabitants carried away; stories of yachts and merchant steamers, mysteriously purchased, that had disappeared and the descriptions of which remotely tallied with the crafts that had carried the Orientals and Africans and islanders away… The shrinkage of the planet. The death of an obscure missionary in China, or of a whisky smuggler in the South Seas, is served up, the world over, with the morning toast… The house beautiful. And so the Korean drone flaunts his clean white clothes, for the same reason that the Chinese flaunts his monstrous finger-nails, and the white man and woman flaunt the spick-and-spanness of their spotless houses… What life means to me. This one rung was the height I climbed up the business ladder. One night I went on a raid amongst the Chinese fishermen… There weren't any dividends that night, and the Chinese fishermen were richer by the nets and ropes we did not get… |
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| 11 | 1910 |
London, Jack. The unparalleled invasion. In : McClure Magazine (1910). In : London, Jack. The strength of the strong. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1914).(Geschrieben 1907). http://london.sonoma.edu/Writings/StrengthStrong/samuel.html It was in the year 1976 that the trouble between the world and China reached its culmination. It was because of this that the celebration of the Second Centennial of American Liberty was deferred. Many other plans of the nations of the earth were twisted and tangled and postponed for the same reason. The world awoke rather abruptly to its danger; but for over seventy years, unperceived, affairs had been shaping toward this very end. The year 1904 logically marks the beginning of the development that, seventy years later, was to bring consternation to the whole world. The Japanese-Russian War took place in 1904, and the historians of the time gravely noted it down that that event marked the entrance of Japan into the comity of nations. What it really did mark was the awakening of China. This awakening, long expected, had finally been given up. The Western nations had tried to arouse China, and they had failed. Out of their native optimism and race-egotism they had therefore concluded that the task was impossible, that China would never awaken. What they had failed to take into account was this: THAT BETWEEN THEM AND CHINA WAS NO COMMON PSYCHOLOGICAL SPEECH. Their thought- processes were radically dissimilar. There was no intimate vocabulary. The Western mind penetrated the Chinese mind but a short distance when it found itself in a fathomless maze. The Chinese mind penetrated the Western mind an equally short distance when it fetched up against a blank, incomprehensible wall. It was all a matter of language. There was no way to communicate Western ideas to the Chinese mind. China remained asleep. The material achievement and progress of the West was a closed book to her; nor could the West open the book. Back and deep down on the tie-ribs of consciousness, in the mind, say, of the English-speaking race, was a capacity to thrill to short, Saxon words; back and deep down on the tie-ribs of consciousness of the Chinese mind was a capacity to thrill to its own hieroglyphics; but the Chinese mind could not thrill to short, Saxon words; nor could the English-speaking mind thrill to hieroglyphics. The fabrics of their minds were woven from totally different stuffs. They were mental aliens. And so it was that Western material achievement and progress made no dent on the rounded sleep of China. Came Japan and her victory over Russia in 1904. Now the Japanese race was the freak and paradox among Eastern peoples. In some strange way Japan was receptive to all the West had to offer. Japan swiftly assimilated the Western ideas, and digested them, and so capably applied them that she suddenly burst forth, full- panoplied, a world-power. There is no explaining this peculiar openness of Japan to the alien culture of the West. As well might be explained any biological sport in the animal kingdom. Having decisively thrashed the great Russian Empire, Japan promptly set about dreaming a colossal dream of empire for herself. Korea she had made into a granary and a colony; treaty privileges and vulpine diplomacy gave her the monopoly of Manchuria. But Japan was not satisfied. She turned her eyes upon China. There lay a vast territory, and in that territory were the hugest deposits in the world of iron and coal - the backbone of industrial civilization. Given natural resources, the other great factor in industry is labour. In that territory was a population of 400,000,000 souls - one quarter of the then total population of the earth. Furthermore, the Chinese were excellent workers, while their fatalistic philosophy (or religion) and their stolid nervous organization constituted them splendid soldiers - if they were properly managed. Needless to say, Japan was prepared to furnish that management. But best of all, from the standpoint of Japan, the Chinese was a kindred race. The baffling enigma of the Chinese character to the West was no baffling enigma to the Japanese. The Japanese understood as we could never school ourselves or hope to understand. Their mental processes were the same. The Japanese thought with the same thought-symbols as did the Chinese, and they thought in the same peculiar grooves. Into the Chinese mind the Japanese went on where we were balked by the obstacle of incomprehension. They took the turning which we could not perceive, twisted around the obstacle, and were out of sight in the ramifications of the Chinese mind where we could not follow. They were brothers. Long ago one had borrowed the other's written language, and, untold generations before that, they had diverged from the common Mongol stock. There had been changes, differentiations brought about by diverse conditions and infusions of other blood; but down at the bottom of their beings, twisted into the fibres of them, was a heritage in common, a sameness in kind that time had not obliterated. And so Japan took upon herself the management of China. In the years immediately following the war with Russia, her agents swarmed over the Chinese Empire. A thousand miles beyond the last mission station toiled her engineers and spies, clad as coolies, under the guise of itinerant merchants or proselytizing Buddhist priests, noting down the horse-power of every waterfall, the likely sites for factories, the heights of mountains and passes, the strategic advantages and weaknesses, the wealth of the farming valleys, the number of bullocks in a district or the number of labourers that could be collected by forced levies. Never was there such a census, and it could have been taken by no other people than the dogged, patient, patriotic Japanese. But in a short time secrecy was thrown to the winds. Japan's officers reorganized the Chinese army; her drill sergeants made the mediaeval warriors over into twentieth century soldiers, accustomed to all the modern machinery of war and with a higher average of marksmanship than the soldiers of any Western nation. The engineers of Japan deepened and widened the intricate system of canals, built factories and foundries, netted the empire with telegraphs and telephones, and inaugurated the era of railroad- building. It was these same protagonists of machine-civilization that discovered the great oil deposits of Chunsan, the iron mountains of Whang-Sing, the copper ranges of Chinchi, and they sank the gas wells of Wow-Wee, that most marvellous reservoir of natural gas in all the world. In China's councils of empire were the Japanese emissaries. In the ears of the statesmen whispered the Japanese statesmen. The political reconstruction of the Empire was due to them. They evicted the scholar class, which was violently reactionary, and put into office progressive officials. And in every town and city of the Empire newspapers were started. Of course, Japanese editors ran the policy of these papers, which policy they got direct from Tokio. It was these papers that educated and made progressive the great mass of the population. China was at last awake. Where the West had failed, Japan succeeded. She had transmuted Western culture and achievement into terms that were intelligible to the Chinese understanding. Japan herself, when she so suddenly awakened, had astounded the world. But at the time she was only forty millions strong. China's awakening, with her four hundred millions and the scientific advance of the world, was frightfully astounding. She was the colossus of the nations, and swiftly her voice was heard in no uncertain tones in the affairs and councils of the nations. Japan egged her on, and the proud Western peoples listened with respectful ears. China's swift and remarkable rise was due, perhaps more than to anything else, to the superlative quality of her labour. The Chinese was the perfect type of industry. He had always been that. For sheer ability to work no worker in the world could compare with him. Work was the breath of his nostrils. It was to him what wandering and fighting in far lands and spiritual adventure had been to other peoples. Liberty, to him, epitomized itself in access to the means of toil. To till the soil and labour interminably was all he asked of life and the powers that be. And the awakening of China had given its vast population not merely free and unlimited access to the means of toil, but access to the highest and most scientific machine-means of toil. China rejuvenescent! It was but a step to China rampant. She discovered a new pride in herself and a will of her own. She began to chafe under the guidance of Japan, but she did not chafe long. On Japan's advice, in the beginning, she had expelled from the Empire all Western missionaries, engineers, drill sergeants, merchants, and teachers. She now began to expel the similar representatives of Japan. The latter's advisory statesmen were showered with honours and decorations, and sent home. The West had awakened Japan, and, as Japan had then requited the West, Japan was not requited by China. Japan was thanked for her kindly aid and flung out bag and baggage by her gigantic protege. The Western nations chuckled. Japan's rainbow dream had gone glimmering. She grew angry. China laughed at her. The blood and the swords of the Samurai would out, and Japan rashly went to war. This occurred in 1922, and in seven bloody months Manchuria, Korea, and Formosa were taken away from her and she was hurled back, bankrupt, to stifle in her tiny, crowded islands. Exit Japan from the world drama. Thereafter she devoted herself to art, and her task became to please the world greatly with her creations of wonder and beauty. Contrary to expectation, China did not prove warlike. She had no Napoleonic dream, and was content to devote herself to the arts of peace. After a time of disquiet, the idea was accepted that China was to be feared, not in war, but in commerce. It will be seen that the real danger was not apprehended. China went on consummating her machine-civilization. Instead of a large standing army, she developed an immensely larger and splendidly efficient militia. Her navy was so small that it was the laughing stock of the world; nor did she attempt to strengthen her navy. The treaty ports of the world were never entered by her visiting battleships. The real danger lay in the fecundity of her loins, and it was in 1970 that the first cry of alarm was raised. For some time all territories adjacent to China had been grumbling at Chinese immigration; but now it suddenly came home to the world that China's population was 500,000,000. She had increased by a hundred millions since her awakening. Burchaldter called attention to the fact that there were more Chinese in existence than white-skinned people. He performed a simple sum in arithmetic. He added together the populations of the United States, Canada, New Zealand, Australia, South Africa, England, France, Germany, Italy, Austria, European Russia, and all Scandinavia. The result was 495,000,000. And the population of China overtopped this tremendous total by 5,000,000. Burchaldter's figures went round the world, and the world shivered. For many centuries China's population had been constant. Her territory had been saturated with population; that is to say, her territory, with the primitive method of production, had supported the maximum limit of population. But when she awoke and inaugurated the machine-civilization, her productive power had been enormously increased. Thus, on the same territory, she was able to support a far larger population. At once the birth rate began to rise and the death rate to fall. Before, when population pressed against the means of subsistence, the excess population had been swept away by famine. But now, thanks to the machine-civilization, China's means of subsistence had been enormously extended, and there were no famines; her population followed on the heels of the increase in the means of subsistence. During this time of transition and development of power, China had entertained no dreams of conquest. The Chinese was not an imperial race. It was industrious, thrifty, and peace-loving. War was looked upon as an unpleasant but necessary task that at times must be performed. And so, while the Western races had squabbled and fought, and world-adventured against one another, China had calmly gone on working at her machines and growing. Now she was spilling over the boundaries of her Empire - that was all, just spilling over into the adjacent territories with all the certainty and terrifying slow momentum of a glacier. Following upon the alarm raised by Burchaldter's figures, in 1970 France made a long-threatened stand. French Indo-China had been overrun, filled up, by Chinese immigrants. France called a halt. The Chinese wave flowed on. France assembled a force of a hundred thousand on the boundary between her unfortunate colony and China, and China sent down an army of militia-soldiers a million strong. Behind came the wives and sons and daughters and relatives, with their personal household luggage, in a second army. The French force was brushed aside like a fly. The Chinese militia-soldiers, along with their families, over five millions all told, coolly took possession of French Indo-China and settled down to stay for a few thousand years. Outraged France was in arms. She hurled fleet after fleet against the coast of China, and nearly bankrupted herself by the effort. China had no navy. She withdrew like a turtle into her shell. For a year the French fleets blockaded the coast and bombarded exposed towns and villages. China did not mind. She did not depend upon the rest of the world for anything. She calmly kept out of range of the French guns and went on working. France wept and wailed, wrung her impotent hands and appealed to the dumfounded nations. Then she landed a punitive expedition to march to Peking. It was two hundred and fifty thousand strong, and it was the flower of France. It landed without opposition and marched into the interior. And that was the last ever seen of it. The line of communication was snapped on the second day. Not a survivor came back to tell what had happened. It had been swallowed up in China's cavernous maw, that was all. In the five years that followed, China's expansion, in all land directions, went on apace. Siam was made part of the Empire, and, in spite of all that England could do, Burma and the Malay Peninsula were overrun; while all along the long south boundary of Siberia, Russia was pressed severely by China's advancing hordes. The process was simple. First came the Chinese immigration (or, rather, it was already there, having come there slowly and insidiously during the previous years). Next came the clash of arms and the brushing away of all opposition by a monster army of militia-soldiers, followed by their families and household baggage. And finally came their settling down as colonists in the conquered territory. Never was there so strange and effective a method of world conquest. Napal and Bhutan were overrun, and the whole northern boundary of India pressed against by this fearful tide of life. To the west, Bokhara, and, even to the south and west, Afghanistan, were swallowed up. Persia, Turkestan, and all Central Asia felt the pressure of the flood. It was at this time that Burchaldter revised his figures. He had been mistaken. China's population must be seven hundred millions, eight hundred millions, nobody knew how many millions, but at any rate it would soon be a billion. There were two Chinese for every white-skinned human in the world, Burchaldter announced, and the world trembled. China's increase must have begun immediately, in 1904. It was remembered that since that date there had not been a single famine. At 5,000,000 a year increase, her total increase in the intervening seventy years must be 350,000,000. But who was to know? It might be more. Who was to know anything of this strange new menace of the twentieth century - China, old China, rejuvenescent, fruitful, and militant! The Convention of 1975 was called at Philadelphia. All the Western nations, and some few of the Eastern, were represented. Nothing was accomplished. There was talk of all countries putting bounties on children to increase the birth rate, but it was laughed to scorn by the arithmeticians, who pointed out that China was too far in the lead in that direction. No feasible way of coping with China was suggested. China was appealed to and threatened by the United Powers, and that was all the Convention of Philadelphia came to; and the Convention and the Powers were laughed at by China. Li Tang Fwung, the power behind the Dragon Throne, deigned to reply. "What does China care for the comity of nations?" said Li Tang Fwung. "We are the most ancient, honourable, and royal of races. We have our own destiny to accomplish. It is unpleasant that our destiny does not tally with the destiny of the rest of the world, but what would you? You have talked windily about the royal races and the heritage of the earth, and we can only reply that that remains to be seen. You cannot invade us. Never mind about your navies. Don't shout. We know our navy is small. You see we use it for police purposes. We do not care for the sea. Our strength is in our population, which will soon be a billion. Thanks to you, we are equipped with all modern war-machinery. Send your navies. We will not notice them. Send your punitive expeditions, but first remember France. To land half a million soldiers on our shores would strain the resources of any of you. And our thousand millions would swallow them down in a mouthful. Send a million; send five millions, and we will swallow them down just as readily. Pouf! A mere nothing, a meagre morsel. Destroy, as you have threatened, you United States, the ten million coolies we have forced upon your shores - why, the amount scarcely equals half of our excess birth rate for a year." So spoke Li Tang Fwung. The world was nonplussed, helpless, terrified. Truly had he spoken. There was no combating China's amazing birth rate. If her population was a billion, and was increasing twenty millions a year, in twenty-five years it would be a billion and a half - equal to the total population of the world in 1904. And nothing could be done. There was no way to dam up the over-spilling monstrous flood of life. War was futile. China laughed at a blockade of her coasts. She welcomed invasion. In her capacious maw was room for all the hosts of earth that could be hurled at her. And in the meantime her flood of yellow life poured out and on over Asia. China laughed and read in their magazines the learned lucubrations of the distracted Western scholars. But there was one scholar China failed to reckon on - Jacobus Laningdale. Not that he was a scholar, except in the widest sense. Primarily, Jacobus Laningdale was a scientist, and, up to that time, a very obscure scientist, a professor employed in the laboratories of the Health Office of New York City. Jacobus Laningdale's head was very like any other head, but in that head was evolved an idea. Also, in that head was the wisdom to keep that idea secret. He did not write an article for the magazines. Instead, he asked for a vacation. On September 19, 1975, he arrived in Washington. It was evening, but he proceeded straight to the White House, for he had already arranged an audience with the President. He was closeted with President Moyer for three hours. What passed between them was not learned by the rest of the world until long after; in fact, at that time the world was not interested in Jacobus Laningdale. Next day the President called in his Cabinet. Jacobus Laningdale was present. The proceedings were kept secret. But that very afternoon Rufus Cowdery, Secretary of State, left Washington, and early the following morning sailed for England. The secret that he carried began to spread, but it spread only among the heads of Governments. Possibly half-a-dozen men in a nation were entrusted with the idea that had formed in Jacobus Laningdale's head. Following the spread of the secret, sprang up great activity in all the dockyards, arsenals, and navy-yards. The people of France and Austria became suspicious, but so sincere were their Governments' calls for confidence that they acquiesced in the unknown project that was afoot. This was the time of the Great Truce. All countries pledged themselves solemnly not to go to war with any other country. The first definite action was the gradual mobilization of the armies of Russia, Germany, Austria, Italy, Greece, and Turkey. Then began the eastward movement. All railroads into Asia were glutted with troop trains. China was the objective, that was all that was known. A little later began the great sea movement. Expeditions of warships were launched from all countries. Fleet followed fleet, and all proceeded to the coast of China. The nations cleaned out their navy-yards. They sent their revenue cutters and dispatch boots and lighthouse tenders, and they sent their last antiquated cruisers and battleships. Not content with this, they impressed the merchant marine. The statistics show that 58,640 merchant steamers, equipped with searchlights and rapid-fire guns, were despatched by the various nations to China. And China smiled and waited. On her land side, along her boundaries, were millions of the warriors of Europe. She mobilized five times as many millions of her militia and awaited the invasion. On her sea coasts she did the same. But China was puzzled. After all this enormous preparation, there was no invasion. She could not understand. Along the great Siberian frontier all was quiet. Along her coasts the towns and villages were not even shelled. Never, in the history of the world, had there been so mighty a gathering of war fleets. The fleets of all the world were there, and day and night millions of tons of battleships ploughed the brine of her coasts, and nothing happened. Nothing was attempted. Did they think to make her emerge from her shell? China smiled. Did they think to tire her out, or starve her out? China smiled again. But on May 1, 1976, had the reader been in the imperial city of Peking, with its then population of eleven millions, he would have witnessed a curious sight. He would have seen the streets filled with the chattering yellow populace, every queued head tilted back, every slant eye turned skyward. And high up in the blue he would have beheld a tiny dot of black, which, because of its orderly evolutions, he would have identified as an airship. From this airship, as it curved its flight back and forth over the city, fell missiles - strange, harmless missiles, tubes of fragile glass that shattered into thousands of fragments on the streets and house- tops. But there was nothing deadly about these tubes of glass. Nothing happened. There were no explosions. It is true, three Chinese were killed by the tubes dropping on their heads from so enormous a height; but what were three Chinese against an excess birth rate of twenty millions? One tube struck perpendicularly in a fish-pond in a garden and was not broken. It was dragged ashore by the master of the house. He did not dare to open it, but, accompanied by his friends, and surrounded by an ever-increasing crowd, he carried the mysterious tube to the magistrate of the district. The latter was a brave man. With all eyes upon him, he shattered the tube with a blow from his brass-bowled pipe. Nothing happened. Of those who were very near, one or two thought they saw some mosquitoes fly out. That was all. The crowd set up a great laugh and dispersed. As Peking was bombarded by glass tubes, so was all China. The tiny airships, dispatched from the warships, contained but two men each, and over all cities, towns, and villages they wheeled and curved, one man directing the ship, the other man throwing over the glass tubes. Had the reader again been in Peking, six weeks later, he would have looked in vain for the eleven million inhabitants. Some few of them he would have found, a few hundred thousand, perhaps, their carcasses festering in the houses and in the deserted streets, and piled high on the abandoned death-waggons. But for the rest he would have had to seek along the highways and byways of the Empire. And not all would he have found fleeing from plague-stricken Peking, for behind them, by hundreds of thousands of unburied corpses by the wayside, he could have marked their flight. And as it was with Peking, so it was with all the cities, towns, and villages of the Empire. The plague smote them all. Nor was it one plague, nor two plagues; it was a score of plagues. Every virulent form of infectious death stalked through the land. Too late the Chinese government apprehended the meaning of the colossal preparations, the marshalling of the world-hosts, the flights of the tin airships, and the rain of the tubes of glass. The proclamations of the government were vain. They could not stop the eleven million plague-stricken wretches, fleeing from the one city of Peking to spread disease through all the land. The physicians and health officers died at their posts; and death, the all- conqueror, rode over the decrees of the Emperor and Li Tang Fwung. It rode over them as well, for Li Tang Fwung died in the second week, and the Emperor, hidden away in the Summer Palace, died in the fourth week. Had there been one plague, China might have coped with it. But from a score of plagues no creature was immune. The man who escaped smallpox went down before scarlet fever. The man who was immune to yellow fever was carried away by cholera; and if he were immune to that, too, the Black Death, which was the bubonic plague, swept him away. For it was these bacteria, and germs, and microbes, and bacilli, cultured in the laboratories of the West, that had come down upon China in the rain of glass. All organization vanished. The government crumbled away. Decrees and proclamations were useless when the men who made them and signed them one moment were dead the next. Nor could the maddened millions, spurred on to flight by death, pause to heed anything. They fled from the cities to infect the country, and wherever they fled they carried the plagues with them. The hot summer was on - Jacobus Laningdale had selected the time shrewdly - and the plague festered everywhere. Much is conjectured of what occurred, and much has been learned from the stories of the few survivors. The wretched creatures stormed across the Empire in many-millioned flight. The vast armies China had collected on her frontiers melted away. The farms were ravaged for food, and no more crops were planted, while the crops already in were left unattended and never came to harvest. The most remarkable thing, perhaps, was the flights. Many millions engaged in them, charging to the bounds of the Empire to be met and turned back by the gigantic armies of the West. The slaughter of the mad hosts on the boundaries was stupendous. Time and again the guarding line was drawn back twenty or thirty miles to escape the contagion of the multitudinous dead. Once the plague broke through and seized upon the German and Austrian soldiers who were guarding the borders of Turkestan. Preparations had been made for such a happening, and though sixty thousand soldiers of Europe were carried off, the international corps of physicians isolated the contagion and dammed it back. It was during this struggle that it was suggested that a new plague- germ had originated, that in some way or other a sort of hybridization between plague-germs had taken place, producing a new and frightfully virulent germ. First suspected by Vomberg, who became infected with it and died, it was later isolated and studied by Stevens, Hazenfelt, Norman, and Landers. Such was the unparalleled invasion of China. For that billion of people there was no hope. Pent in their vast and festering charnel-house, all organization and cohesion lost, they could do naught but die. They could not escape. As they were flung back from their land frontiers, so were they flung back from the sea. Seventy-five thousand vessels patrolled the coasts. By day their smoking funnels dimmed the sea-rim, and by night their flashing searchlights ploughed the dark and harrowed it for the tiniest escaping junk. The attempts of the immense fleets of junks were pitiful. Not one ever got by the guarding sea-hounds. Modern war- machinery held back the disorganized mass of China, while the plagues did the work. But old War was made a thing of laughter. Naught remained to him but patrol duty. China had laughed at war, and war she was getting, but it was ultra-modern war, twentieth century war, the war of the scientist and the laboratory, the war of Jacobus Laningdale. Hundred-ton guns were toys compared with the micro- organic projectiles hurled from the laboratories, the messengers of death, the destroying angels that stalked through the empire of a billion souls. During all the summer and fall of 1976 China was an inferno. There was no eluding the microscopic projectiles that sought out the remotest hiding-places. The hundreds of millions of dead remained unburied and the germs multiplied themselves, and, toward the last, millions died daily of starvation. Besides, starvation weakened the victims and destroyed their natural defences against the plagues. Cannibalism, murder, and madness reigned. And so perished China. Not until the following February, in the coldest weather, were the first expeditions made. These expeditions were small, composed of scientists and bodies of troops; but they entered China from every side. In spite of the most elaborate precautions against infection, numbers of soldiers and a few of the physicians were stricken. But the exploration went bravely on. They found China devastated, a howling wilderness through which wandered bands of wild dogs and desperate bandits who had survived. All survivors were put to death wherever found. And then began the great task, the sanitation of China. Five years and hundreds of millions of treasure were consumed, and then the world moved in - not in zones, as was the idea of Baron Albrecht, but heterogeneously, according to the democratic American programme. It was a vast and happy intermingling of nationalities that settled down in China in 1982 and the years that followed - a tremendous and successful experiment in cross-fertilization. We know to-day the splendid mechanical, intellectual, and art output that followed. It was in 1987, the Great Truce having been dissolved, that the ancient quarrel between France and Germany over Alsace-Lorraine recrudesced. The war-cloud grew dark and threatening in April, and on April 17 the Convention of Copenhagen was called. The representatives of the nations of the world, being present, all nations solemnly pledged themselves never to use against one another the laboratory methods of warfare they had employed in the invasion of China. Excerpt from Walt Mervin's "CERTAIN ESSAYS IN HISTORY." Sekundärliteratur Under the influence of Japan, China modernizes and undergoes its own version of the Meiji Reforms in the 1910s. In 1922, China breaks away from Japan and fights a brief war that culminates in the Chinese annexation of the Japanese possessions of Korea, Formosa, and Manchuria. Over the next half century, China's population steadily grows, and eventually migration overwhelms European colonies in Asia. The United States and the other Western powers launch a biological warfare campaign against China, resulting in the destruction of China's population, the few survivors of the plague being killed out of hand by European and American troops. China is then colonized by the Western powers. This opens the way to a joyous epoch of "splendid mechanical, intellectual, and art output". Joe Lockard : This allohistorical story, narrated by a future historian at the end of the twentieth century, begins in the wake of the Russo-Japanese War of 1904 in order to trace the rise of China, followed by extermination of the Chinese at the hands of Western military powers using biological warfare. London opens his story with an attempt to explain differences between supposed Chinese and Western mentalities. In his account of the origins of this conflict, there was "no common psychological speech" between Chinese and Western cultures. It is Japan that is able to awake and modernize China through extension of this empire. Under Japanese imperial guidance, China reorganizes, industrializes, and makes astounding scientific advances. Having mastered Western technology and no longer needing tutelage, China throws out its Japanese advisors. Angered, Japan declares war and quickly loses its empire in Manchuria, Korea and Taiwan. With its new "machine-civilization" China enters fifty years of peace and prosperity that end when population pressure causes it to expand into neighboring territories. |
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| 12 | 1911 |
London, Jack. When God laughs and other stories. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1911). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/2545/2545.txt A wicked woman. She had the grace of a slender flower, the fragility of colour and line of fine china, in all of which he pleasured greatly, without thought of the Life Force palpitating beneath and in spite of Bernard Shaw--in whom he believed… Just meat. Matt grunted a laugh and went on with his cooking. Jim poured out the coffee, but first, into the nicked china cup, he emptied a powder he had carried in his vest pocket wrapped in a rice-paper… The Chinago. In China, as Ah Cho well knew, the magistrate would order all of them to the torture and learn the truth… But the Chinese had not complained to the French devils that ruled over Tahiti… Ah Cho was going to have his head cut off, but they, when their two remaining years of servitude were up, were going back to China… |
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| 13 | 1912 |
London, Jack. The house of pride and other tales of Hawaii. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1912). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/2416/2416.txt Chun Ah Chun. The Japanese and Chinese coolies, toiling on thesugar plantations and in the rice-fields, married. They invariably married at the first opportunity. It was because they were so low in the scale of life… "Ay, well questioned," Koolau answered. "Because we would not work the miles of sugar-cane where once our horses pastured, they brought the Chinese slaves from overseas. And with them came the Chinese sickness--that which we suffer from and because of which they would imprison us on Molokai. We were born on Kauai… I know the law and the justice, and I say to you it is unjust to steal a man's land, to make that man sick with the Chinese sickness, and then to put that man in prison for life."… He, Koolau, had done no wrong. Because the haoles wanted labour with which to work the stolen land, they had brought in the Chinese coolies, and with them had come the sickness… There was nothing striking in the appearance of Chun Ah Chun. He was rather undersized, as Chinese go, and the Chinese narrow shoulders and spareness of flesh were his. The average tourist, casually glimpsing him on the streets of Honolulu, would have concluded that he was a good-natured little Chinese, probably the proprietor of a prosperous laundry or tailorshop. In so far as good nature and prosperity went, the judgment would be correct, though beneath the mark; for Ah Chun was as good-natured as he was prosperous, and of the latter no man knew a tithe the tale. It was well known that he was enormously wealthy, but in his case "enormous" was merely the symbol for the unknown. Ah Chun had shrewd little eyes, black and beady and so very little that they were like gimlet-holes. But they were wide apart, and they sheltered under a forehead that was patently the forehead of a thinker. For Ah Chun had his problems, and had had them all his life. Not that he ever worried over them. He was essentially a philosopher, and whether as coolie, or multi-millionaire and master of many men, his poise of soul was the same. He lived always in the high equanimity of spiritual repose, undeterred by good fortune, unruffled by ill fortune. All things went well with him, whether they were blows from the overseer in the cane field or a slump in the price of sugar when he owned those cane fields himself. Thus, from the steadfast rock of his sure content he mastered problems such as are given to few men to consider, much less to a Chinese peasant. He was precisely that--a Chinese peasant, born to labour in the fields all his days like a beast, but fated to escape from the fields like the prince in a fairy tale. Ah Chun did not remember his father, a small farmer in a district not far from Canton; nor did he remember much of his mother, who had died when he was six. But he did remember his respected uncle, Ah Kow, for him had he served as a slave from his sixth year to his twenty-fourth. It was then that he escaped by contracting himself as a coolie to labour for three years on the sugar plantations of Hawaii for fifty cents a day… It was under the Kamehamehas, long before, that he had served his own country as Chinese Consul--a position that was not altogether unlucrative… And into this conglomerate of the races, Ah Chun introduced the Mongolian mixture. Thus, his children by Mrs. Ah Chun were one thirty-second Polynesian, one-sixteenth Italian, one sixteenth Portuguese, one-half Chinese, and eleven thirty-seconds English and American… He had furnished the slim-boned Chinese frame, upon which had been builded the delicacies and subtleties of Saxon, Latin, and Polynesian flesh… He preferred the loose-flowing robes of China, and neither could they cajole nor bully him into making the change… Except among the Chinese merchants of the city, he never went out; but he received, and he always was the centre of his household and the head of his table. Himself peasant, born Chinese, he presided over an atmosphere of culture and refinement second to none in all the islands… The reeking smells of the Chinese quarter were spicy to him. He sniffed them with satisfaction as he passed along the street, for in his mind they carried him back to the narrow tortuous alleys of Canton swarming with life and movement… The dishes his highly paid chef concocted for him failed to tickle his reminiscent palate in the way that the weird messes did in the stuffy restaurant down in the Chinese quarter. He enjoyed vastly more a half-hour's smoke and chat with two or three Chinese chums… But it was not merely his alienness and his growing desire to return to his Chinese flesh-pots that constituted the problem… But the little old man was not bound for Canton. He knew his own country too well, and the squeeze of the Mandarins, to venture into it with the tidy bulk of wealth that remained to him. He went to Macao. Now Ah Chun had long exercised the power of a king and he was as imperious as a king. When he landed at Macao and went into the office of the biggest European hotel to register, the clerk closed the book on him. Chinese were not permitted… |
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| 14 | 1912 |
London, Jack. A son of the sun. (Garden City, N.Y. : Doubleday, Page & Company, 1912). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/21971/21971.txt On the chest of one hung a white doorknob, on the chest of another the handle of a china cup, on the chest of a third the brass cogwheel of an alarm clock… She's a lady. I mean it. She knows a whole lot of South America, and of China, too… Peter Gee, a half-caste Chinese pearl-buyer who ranged from Ceylon to the Paumotus… Peter Gee was that rare creature, a good as well as clever Eurasian. In fact, it was the stolid integrity of the Chinese blood that toned the recklessness and licentiousness of the English blood which had run in his father's veins… David Grief, and his guest, Gregory Mulhall, an Englishman, were still in pajamas, their naked feet thrust into Chinese slippers… |
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| 15 | 1913 |
London, Jack. John Barleycorn. (New York, N.Y. : The Century Co., 1913). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/318/318.txt One thing that had strongly impressed my young mind was the talk of my elders about the dens of iniquity in San Francisco's Chinatown. In my delirium I wandered deep beneath the ground through a thousand of these dens, and behind locked doors of iron I suffered and died a thousand deaths. And when I would come upon my father, seated at table in these subterranean crypts, gambling with Chinese for great stakes of gold, all my outrage gave vent in the vilest cursing. I would rise in bed, struggling against the detaining hands, and curse my father till the rafters rang. All the inconceivable filth a child running at large in a primitive countryside may hear men utter was mine; and though I had never dared utter such oaths, they now poured from me, at the top of my lungs, as I cursed my father sitting there underground and gambling with long-haired, long-nailed Chinamen… I nod my head--Liu Ling, a hard drinker, one of the group of bibulous poets who called themselves the Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove and who lived in China many an ancient century ago. "It was Liu Ling," prompts the White Logic, "who declared that to a drunken man the affairs of this world appear but as so much duckweed on a river. Very well. Have another Scotch, and let semblance and deception become duck-weed on a river." And while I pour and sip my Scotch, I remember another Chinese philosopher, Chuang Tzu, who, four centuries before Christ, challenged this dreamland of the world, saying: "How then do I know but that the dead repent of having previously clung to life? Those who dream of the banquet, wake to lamentation and sorrow. Those who dream of lamentation and sorrow, wake to join the hunt. While they dream, they do not know that they dream. Some will even interpret the very dream they are dreaming; and only when they awake do they know it was a dream.... Fools think they are awake now, and flatter themselves they know if they are really princes or peasants. Confucius and you are both dreams; and I who say you are dreams--I am but a dream myself. "Once upon a time, I, Chuang Tzu, dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of following my fancies as a butterfly, and was unconscious of my individuality as a man. Suddenly, I awaked, and there I lay, myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man."… The way to stop drinking is to stop it. The way China stopped the general use of opium was by stopping the cultivation and importation of opium. The philosophers, priests, and doctors of China could have preached themselves breathless against opium for a thousand years, and the use of opium, so long as opium was ever accessible and obtainable, would have continued unabated. We are so made, that is all… |
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| 16 | 1913 |
London, Jack. The night-born. (New York, N.Y. : The Century Co., 1913). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1029/1029.txt "That's what took me off my feet--her eyes--blue, not China blue, but deep blue, like the sea and sky all melted into one, and very wise… "I heard you lived all alone with a Chinaman for cook, and it looked good to me. Only I didn't break in… In the bungalow at Mill Valley he lived alone, save for Lee Sing, the Chinese cook and factotum, who knew much about the strangeness of his master, who was paid well for saying nothing, and who never did say anything… Chinese and Japanese shops and dens abounded, all confusedly intermingled with low white resorts and boozing dens. This quiet street of his youth had become the toughest quarter of the city… A Japanese served as cook, and a Chinese as cabin boy… They were all guilty, from young Ardmore, a pink cherub of nineteen outward bound for some clerkship in the Consular Service, to old Captain Bentley, grizzled and sea-worn, and as emotional, to look at, as a Chinese joss… |
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| 17 | 1913 |
London, Jack. The valley of the moon. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1449/1449.txt Once, she even considered taking up with hand-painted china, but gave over the idea when she learned its expensiveness… It must be like markin' China lottery tickets. He plays hunches. He looks at a guy an' waits for a spot or a number to come into his head… An' the Golden Gate! There's the Pacific Ocean beyond, and China, an' Japan, an' India, an'... an' all the coral islands… China's over there, an' in between's a mighty lot of salt water that's no good for farmin' purposes."… As Saxon went up the narrow, flower-bordered walk, she noted two men at work among the vegetables--one an old Chinese, the other old and of some dark-eyed foreign breed… And Mr. John Chinaman owns them. They ship fifteen thousand barrels of cider and vinegar each year."… "I was just telling your husband about the way the Chinese make things go up the San Joaquin river… Also, he was in debt three hundred dollars to the Six Companies--you know, they're Chinese affairs. And, remember, this was only seven years ago--health breaking down, three hundred in debt, and no trade. Chow Lam blew into Stockton and got a job on the peat lands at day's wages. It was a Chinese company, down on Middle River, that farmed celery and asparagus. This was when he got onto himself and took stock of himself. A quarter of a century in the United States, back not so strong as it used to was, and not a penny laid by for his return to China. He saw how the Chinese in the company had done it--saved their wages and bought a share… He was only a coolie, and he smuggled himself into the United States twenty years ago. Started at day's wages, then peddled vegetables in a couple of baskets slung on a stick, and after that opened up a store in Chinatown in San Francisco. But he had a head on him, and he was soon onto the curves of the Chinese farmers that dealt at his store… Trust a Chinaman to know the market… I'll tell you one thing, though--give me the Chinese to deal with. He's honest… Mr. John Chinaman goes him one better, and grows two crops at one time on the same soil… The conversation with Gunston lasted hours, and the more he talked of the Chinese and their farming ways the more Saxon became aware of a growing dissatisfaction… Billy picked out the bookkeepers and foremen for Americans. All the rest were Greeks, Italians, and Chinese… "It's become a profession," Hastings went on. "The 'movers.' They lease, clean out and gut a place in several years, and then move on. They're not like the foreigners, the Chinese, and Japanese, and the rest… They encountered--sometimes in whole villages--Chinese, Japanese, Italians, Portuguese, Swiss, Hindus, Koreans, Norwegians, Danes, French, Armenians, Slavs, almost every nationality save American… Yet two thriving towns were in Walnut Grove, one Chinese, one Japanese. Most of the land was owned by Americans, who lived away from it and were continually selling it to the foreigners… They lingered in the hop-fields on the rich bottoms, where Billy scorned to pick hops alongside of Indians, Japanese, and Chinese… There are plenty of Chinese and Italians there, and they are the best truck-farmers… When your two come--of course you will pay them fair wages--and we'll make sure they're the same nationality, either Chinese or Italians—well… A fellow could live in the city a thousan' years an' not get such chances. It beats China lottery."… The convicts paroled were Chinese. Both had served long in prison, and were old men; but the day's work they were habitually capable of won Mrs. Mortimer's approval. Gow Yum, twenty years before, had had charge of the vegetable garden of one of the great Menlo Park estates. His disaster had come in the form of a fight over a game of fan tan in the Chinese quarter at Redwood City. His companion, Chan Chi, had been a hatchet-man of note, in the old fighting days of the San Francisco tongs… The taking of a single drink of liquor would provoke that hand to close down and jerk them back to prison-cells. Nor had they freedom of movement. When old Gow Yum needed to go to San Francisco to sign certain papers before the Chinese Consul, permission had first to be obtained from San Quentin… Also she was devoid of fear, and, according to Billy, could settle the hash of both Chinese with one of her mighty arms… Gow Yum and Chan Chi, under enormous Chinese grass hats, were planting green onions… |
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| 18 | 1914 |
London, Jack. The mutiny of the Elsinore. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1914). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/2415/2415.txt I spoke to the steward, an old Chinese, smooth-faced and brisk of movement, whose name I never learned, but whose age on the articles was fifty-six… I found myself greeted by a delicate-faced, prettily-gowned woman who sat beside a lacquered oriental table on which rested an exquisite tea-service of Canton china… He pretty old man--fifty-five years, he say. Very smart man for Chinaman… And then I heard a slight tinkling of china from the pantry as the steward proceeded to set the table, and, also, it was so warm and comfortable, and George Moore was so irritatingly fascinating… "His name Louis," he said. "He Chinaman, too. No; only half Chinaman. Other half Englishman… To all intents he was a Chinese, until he spoke, whereupon, measured by speech alone, he was an Englishman… I found myself neglected, out there on top the draughty house, while Miss West talked chickens with the Chinese ex-smuggler… Andy Fay and Mulligan Jacobs burn with hatred unconsumable, and the small-handed half-caste Chinese cooks for all. She avers that she loves the sea and the atmosphere of sea-life, yet, verily, she has brought her home-things and land-things along with her--even to her pretty china for afternoon tea… "I was once on a voyage on a tramp steamer loaded with four hundred Chinks--I beg your pardon, sir--Chinese. They were coolies, contract labourers, coming back from serving their time… As for the murder, when pressed by me, he gave me to understand that it was no affair of the Japanese or Chinese on board, and that he was a Japanese. But Louis, the Chinese half-caste with the Oxford accent, was more frank. I caught him aft from the galley on a trip to the lazarette for provisions… And the Eurasian Chinese-Englishman bowed himself away… "It was an ancient Chinese philosopher who is first recorded as having said, what doubtlessly the cave men before him gibbered, namely, that a woman pursues a man by fluttering away in advance of him."… And yet, even as Mr. Pike grudgingly admits, he is a good sailorman and second mate save for his unholy intimacy with the men for'ard--an intimacy which even the Chinese cook and the Chinese steward deplore as unseamanlike and perilous… Wise, clever, cautious, old Chinese steward! He made no emergence… I hear the shrill laughter of the steward and Louis over some ancient Chinese joke… Assisted by the old steward, who knows, as a Chinese ought, a deal about fireworks, and getting my materials from our signal rockets and Roman candles, I manufactured half a dozen bombs… "They have been fighting," I said. "It is good that they should fight among themselves." But the old Chinese merely grinned and shook his head… |
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| 19 | 1914 |
London, Jack. The strength of the strong. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1914). http://london.sonoma.edu/Writings/StrengthStrong/samuel.html The sea farmer. Beneath them, on the main deck, two Chinese stokers were carrying breakfast for'ard across the rusty iron plates that told their own grim story of weight and wash of sea… They were Chinese, with expressionless, Sphinx-like faces, and they walked in peculiar shambling fashion, dragging their feet as if the clumsy brogans were too heavy for their lean shanks… Coals again to Oregon, seven thousand miles, and nigh as many more with general cargo for Japan and China… And again he held her away from him, this wife of ten years and of whom he knew so little. She was almost a stranger - more a stranger than his Chinese steward, and certainly far more a stranger than his own officers whom he had seen every day, day and day, for eight hundred and fifty days… 'We regret tull note the loss o' two Chinese members o' yer crew of Newcastle, an' we recommend greater carefulness und the future.' Greater carefulness! And I could no a-been more careful… Samuel. In the centre of the mantel was a stuffed bird-of-paradise, while about the room were scattered gorgeous shells from the southern seas, delicate sprays of coral sprouting from barnacled PI-PI shells and cased in glass, assegais from South Africa, stone axes from New Guinea, huge Alaskan tobacco-pouches beaded with heraldic totem designs, a boomerang from Australia, divers ships in glass bottles, a cannibal KAI-KAI bowl from the Marquesas, and fragile cabinets from China and the Indies and inlaid with mother-of-pearl and precious woods… The rumour died down, and the island fell to discussing in all its ramifications the loss of the Grenoble in the China seas, with all her officers and half her crew born and married on Island McGill… |
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| 20 | 1916 |
London, Jack. The turtles of Tasman. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1916). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/16257/16257.txt "There was a divorce afterward, of course. I never knew the details. Her mother died out in China--no; in Tasmania. It was in China that Tom--" His lips shut with almost a snap. He was not going to make any more slips. Mary waited, then turned to the door, where she paused… They were from everywhere--China, Rangoon, Australia, South Africa, the Gold Coast, Patagonia, Armenia, Alaska. Briefly and infrequently written, they epitomised the wanderer's life. Frederick ran over in his mind a few of the glimpsed highlights of Tom's career. He had fought in some sort of foreign troubles in Armenia. He had been an officer in the Chinese army, and it was a certainty that the trade he later drove in the China Seas was illicit. He had been caught running arms into Cuba… …a shipwrecked Chinese Eurasian; of the intrigue for the pearl of Desay… |
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| 21 | 1917 |
London, Jack. The human drift. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1917). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1669/1669.txt Asia has thrown forth great waves of hungry humans from the prehistoric "round-barrow" "broad-heads" who overran Europe and penetrated to Scandinavia and England, down through the hordes of Attila and Tamerlane, to the present immigration of Chinese and Japanese that threatens America… And in this day the drift of the races continues, whether it be of Chinese into the Philippines and the Malay Peninsula, of Europeans to the United States or of Americans to the wheatlands of Manitoba and the Northwest… The T'ai'ping rebellion and the Mohammedan rebellion, combined with the famine of 1877-78, destroyed scores of millions of Chinese… In China, between three and six millions of infants are annually destroyed, while the total infanticide record of the whole world is appalling… And, sword in hand, killing and being killed, she has carved out for herself Formosa and Korea, and driven the vanguard of her drift far into the rich interior of Manchuria. For an immense period of time China's population has remained at 400,000,000--the saturation point. The only reason that the Yellow River periodically drowns millions of Chinese is that there is no other land for those millions to farm. And after every such catastrophe the wave of human life rolls up and now millions flood out upon that precarious territory. They are driven to it, because they are pressed remorselessly against subsistence. It is inevitable that China, sooner or later, like Japan, will learn and put into application our own superior food-getting efficiency. And when that time comes, it is likewise inevitable that her population will increase by unguessed millions until it again reaches the saturation point. And then, inoculated with Western ideas, may she not, like Japan, take sword in hand and start forth colossally on a drift of her own for more room? This is another reputed bogie--the Yellow Peril; yet the men of China are only men, like any other race of men, and all men, down all history, have drifted hungrily, here, there and everywhere over the planet, seeking for something to eat. What other men do, may not the Chinese do?... When this day comes, what then? Will there be a recrudescence of old obsolete war? In a saturated population life is always cheap, as it is cheap in China, in India, to-day… |
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| 22 | 1917 |
London, Jack. Michael, brother of Jerry. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1917). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1730/1730.txt Fifty dollars in the way the Yankees reckon it, an' a hundred Mex in China fashion… "You likee this piecee bunk?" the cook, a little old Chinaman, asked the steward with eager humility, inviting the white man's acceptance of his own bunk with a wave of arm… Daughtry shook his head. He had early learned that it was wise to get along well with sea-cooks, since sea-cocks were notoriously given to going suddenly lunatic and slicing and hacking up their shipmates with butcher knives and meat cleavers on the slightest remembered provocation. Besides, there was an equally good bunk all the way across the width of the steerage from the Chinaman's… Daughtry had a sense that the cook, whose name had been quickly volunteered as Ah Moy, was not entirely satisfied with the arrangement; but it affected him no more than a momentary curiosity about a Chinaman who drew the line at a dog taking a bunk in the same apartment with him… Daughtry dismissed the matter from his thoughts as no more than a thing in keeping with the general inscrutability of the Chinese mind… After that came a farrago of Chinese, so like the voice of Ah Moy, that again, though for the last time, Michael sought about the steerage for the utterer… Ah Moy was eager in his haste to leap into the bow. Nor was Daughtry's judgment correct that the little Chinaman's haste was due to fear of the sinking ship… It caught their fancy that this boat was the Ark, what of its freightage of bedding, dry goods boxes, beer-cases, a cat, two dogs, a white cockatoo, a Chinaman, a kinky-headed black, a gangly pallid-haired giant, a grizzled Dag Daughtry, and an Ancient Mariner who looked every inch the part… Ah Moy got no farther ashore than the detention sheds of the Federal Immigration Board, whence he was deported to China on the next Pacific Mail steamer… In short, the "Coast" was as much a sight-seeing place as was Chinatown and the Cliff House… Ah Moy, had he not long since been delivered back to China by the immigration authorities, could have told him the meaning of that swelling, just as he could have told Dag Daughtry the meaning of the increasing area of numbness between his eyes where the tiny, vertical, lion-lines were cutting more conspicuously… |
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| 23 | 1918 |
London, Jack. Hearts of three. (London : Mills & Boon, 1918). https://archive.org/stream/heartsofthreejack00londrich/heartsofthreejack00londrich_djvu.txt He was a Chinaman, middle-aged and fat, whose moonlace beamed the beneficent good nature that seems usual with fat persons… The Senor Solano was indisposed and would see nobody, was her report, humbly delivered, even though the recipient was a Chinese… " I am no coolie. I am smart Chinaman. I go to school plenty much. I speak Spanish. I speak English. I write Spanish. I write English… Tell me your business ! " he almost shouted at the fat Chinese. " What is it? Quick!" Very good business," was the reply, Yi Poon noting the other's excitement with satisfaction. " I make much money. I buy what you call secrets. I sell secrets. Very nice business."… He almost hurled the Chinaman into the house, and, not relaxing his grip, rushed him on into the living room and up to Enrico… At the same time two Indian man-servants, summoned by the maid, cleared the house and grounds of the fat Chinaman and his old crone of a companion… …so in Panama were at work cross purposes which involved Leoncia and the Solanos Torres and the Jefe, and, not least in importance, one, Yi Poon, the rotund and moon-faced Chinese… " What do you want, Chinaman?" Alesandro, the eldest of the Solano brothers, demanded sharply. " Nice new secret, very nice new secret maybe you buy," Yi Poon murmured proudly. " Your secrets are too' expensive, Chinaman," said Enrico discouragingly… Little did Torres guess that twenty feet away, in the jungle that encroached on the beach, lay a placid-sleeping, pulquedrunken, old peon, with, crouching beside him, a very alert and very sober Chinese with a recently acquired thousand dollars stowed under his belt. Yi Poon had had barely time to drag the peon into hiding when Torres rode along in the sand and stopped almost beside him… Leaving the pulque-sodden peon to sleep, the fat Chinaman took the road up the hill at so stiff a pace that he arrived breathless at the hacienda… Not content with knocking at the door, he beat upon it with his fists and feet and prayed to his Chinese gods that no peevish Solano should take a shot at him before he could explain the urgency of his errand… " Come around to-morrow in business hours," Alesandro growled as he prepared to kick the Chinaman off the premises. "I don't sell secret," Yi Poon stammered and gasped. " I make you present. I give secret now. The Senorita, your sister, she is stolen. She is tied upon a horse that runs fast down the beach."… Why, hell's bells, if I were a certain Chinaman that I know, I'd make you pay me a million for all the information I'm giving you for nothing."… |
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| 24 | 1922 |
London, Jack. Stories of ships and the sea. (Girard, Kan. : Haldeman-Julius, 1922). http://www.gutenberg.org/files/18062/18062.txt .hris Farrington: Able Seaman. Besides Chris, there remained only the captain, the sailing-master and the Chinese cook… Working as well as he could with his bandaged hand, and with the feeble aid of the Chinese cook, Chris went forward and backed the jib over to the weather side… |
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| 25 | 1933-1997 |
Jack London : Chinese commentaries 1933 [London, Jack]. Shen yuan xia de ren men. Jiake Lundun zhu ; Qiu Yunduo yi. [ID D33499]. Qiu Yunduo describes London as an inspiration to socialism : "Dear readers, if you do not shut the door and your eyes, you would know that the dark side and difficulties of life can be seen everywhere. Rotten metal and rubbish, abyss and hell, these are not unique to the East End of London, but are common to modern society. In the so-called best districts of Shanghai, I see with my own eyes the hell-like miseries depicted in this book ; to tell the truth, reality sometimes is much worse than in the book. The only remaining road is to challenge – and in this lies the meaning of this novel". 1935 [London, Jack]. Lao quan shi. Jiake Lundun zhu ; Zhang Menglin yi. [ID D34489]. Zhang compares London in his introduction to an American Gorky. 1935 [London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Jiake Lundun zhu ; Liu Dajie, Zhang Menglin yi. [ID D34489]. Liu concludes in the preface "The American people and progressive forces worldwide are fighting agains capitalist reactionaries and warmongers, and London's literary legacy has become the former's powerful weapon." Liu identifies in London a contradiction between his "deep, irreconcilable hate for the capitalist world and passion for class struggles". 1943 [London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Zhou Xing yi. [ID D34490]. Zhou Xing argues that "London is more than a propagandist, he is an artist well versed in depicting characters too". Zhou pays particular attention to characterization of Martin Eden, asserting that his suicide represents a protest against decadent bourgeois society that envelops him He distinguishes London from Gorky by suggesting "There are those who accept collectivism and thus improve themselves, such as Gorky. There are thos who dither between rationalism and sentimentalism and eventually arrive at their own destruction. Jack London is a case in point". 1952 [London, Jack]. Qiang zhe de li liang. Jieke Lundun ; Xu Tianhong yi. [ID D34497]. According to Xu Tianhong, London's political consciousness remains limited by excessive individualism and avoidance of revolutionary struggle through escape into the pristine simplicities of nature. For Xu, while serious flaws remain even in London's most revolutionary works they expose and denounce international imperialism. 1953 [London, Jack]. Tie ti. Lundun zhu ; Wu Lao, Jin Lu yi. [ID D34500]. Wu Lao tells readers that when London published the novel in 1907 it was widely condemned "but the book is hugely popular among Soviet readers, especially the youth". In the introduction to the 2003 edition Wu Lao and Jin Lu argue that with rapid changes in present-day social structures, the political base of Western communism is shrinking and disappearing. While many workers belong to the working-class in socio-economic terms, psychologically they identify with the middle class. In addition to this shift in the nature of the working class, change can emerge paeacefully in mature democracies. "Even in America, where two capitalist parties rule alternately, such severe class confrontation as depicted in The iron heel that forces revolutionaries to resort to armed uprisings against counter-revolutionary violence is unlikely to occur." Violent anti-government attack would be condemned as terrorism rather than liberation. 1955 [London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Wu Lao yi. [ID D34496]. Introduction by Wu Lao of the 1981 edition : For Wu Lao, London was a genuine political revolutionary who might have been at the head of an American proletarian movement were it not for his career as a fiction-writer. He reads Martin Eden as a novel of working class self-identity and as an attack on bourgeois individualism energized by London's intellectual epiphany from reading Marx's Communist Manifesto. Yet Wu criticizes London for his vacillation between Marxism and the subversive attractions of Nietzsche's anti-socialist radical individualism. Even though London was caught in this contradiction, according to Wu Lao, his writing remained firmly committed to the working class and was a source of revolutionary confrontation with American capitalism. 1978 [London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Pan Shaozhong yi. [ID D34491]. In the preface Pan Shaozhong writes while the novel contributes "a penetrating revelation of the evil and ugliness of the bourgeoisie", its social significance remains limited by harmful individualism. 1981 [London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun duan pian xiao shuo xuan. Wan Zi, Yu Ning yi. [ID D34493]. Wan Zi and Yu Ning appreciated London's critique of capitalism and colonialism while pointing to his 'shortcomings' and 'erroneous attitude of white supremacism', they were the first translators in nearly a half-century to discuss his racism. 1985 [London, Jack]. Re ai sheng ming. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Wan Zi, Yu Ning yi. [ID D34498]. Wan Zi and Yu Ning : "Many of London's best works expost and criticize the darkness of capitalist society, decry the colonial exploitation of imperialism, and sing praise for the audacity of revolutionaries". 1988 Li, Shuyan. Jieke Lundun yan jiu. Li Shuyan xuan bian [ID D34600]. Li Shuyan dismisses London as 'no great thinker', one influenced by pseudo-science as well as science, narrow-minded patriotism as well as internationalism, and by white supremacy. "Quite a few ideas in his works would turn out to be wrong. Some were confused and simplistic even at his time". 1994 [London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun duan pian xiao shuo xuan. Jiang Jiansong yi. [ID D34494]. Jiang notes the racist themes of London's writing and attributes political contradictions to his 'eclectic reading'. Jiang distances himself from the selection contained in this collection of short stories with a caution that "We may not agree with ideologies reflected in certain works". 1995 [London, Jack]. Yi kuai niu pai : Jieke Lundon zhong duan pian xiao shuo jing xuan. Jieke Lundon zhu ; Yu Bin, Wen Hong bian. [ID D34502]. [Enthält] : London, Jack. A piece of steak. The enthusiastic indtroduction of Yu Bin and Wen Hong suggests that the reading public and critics were re-evaluating London to appreciate him more for narrative aesthetics, less as a propagandist. They too respond to the internationalism of London's writing : "Jack London is called a Red writer and he would call himself a socialist on account of the fact that he supported social revolution and hoped that the class into which he was born could lead a better life. What is more praiseworthy is that London also wrote stories such as The Mexican that commended socialist revolution and supported weak nations seeking independence. Stories on such topics have had huge influence on the under-class in America's readers, on the working class, and on readers in other countries who either belong to the working class or sympathize with social revolutions." 1996 [London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun zhong duan pian xiao shuo jing xuan = Selected novelettes and short stories of Jack London. Jieke Lundun Zhu ; Lu Weimin yi [ID D34495]. Lu Weimin's afterword to a collection of stories argues "London's masterpiece Martin Eden and his political dystopian novel The iron heel both demonstrate certain proletarian characteristics. The former is penetrating in criticizing the decadence and emptiness of capitalist society, whereas the latter, besides denouncing the oligarchy of American capitalists, specifically opposes opportunism in workers' movements and is thus the first American literary work of proletarian character." 1996 [London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Zhang Xumei, Xi Qingming deng yi. [ID D34492]. Zhang and Xu states that the novel "directly challenges the values of the bourgeoisie and has exposed the hypocrisy and decadence of the upper class", forming a dramatic contrast with conemporary "smiling faces" novels. For such critics, London represents a political cutting edge that can renew a lacking spirit in recent fiction. 1997 [London, Jack]. Re ai sheng ming. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Hu Chunlan yi. [ID D34488]. Hu Chunlan suggests that contemporary Chinese readers can benefit from more balanced political appreciation of London : "During the McCarthy era when the Cold War mentality prevailed, views on Jack London's works once served as a benchmark dividing literary critics into leftists and rightists. Until this day America's mainstream critics still hold a lower evalutation of London than he deserves. But Chinese readers do not have to undervalue London's achievements on this account, nor do we have to ideologize overly Jack London and his works." |
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Bibliography (133)
| # | Year | Bibliographical Data | Type / Abbreviation | Linked Data |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 1909 | London, Jack. If Japan awakens China. In : Sunset magazine ; Dec. (1909). In : London, Jack. The Asian writings of Jack London [ID D34478]. | Publication / Lond4 |
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| 2 | 1929 |
[London, Jack]. Pan tu. Rui Sheng yi. (Shanghai : Qian ye shu dian, 1929). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The apostate. In : Woman's home companion ; vol. 33, Sept. (1906). 叛徒 |
Publication / Lond74 |
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| 3 | 1929 |
[London, Jack]. Tie zhong. Wang Kangfu yi. (Shanghai : Tai dong tu shu ju, 1929). (Shi jie wen xue cong shu). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The iron heel. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1908). 铁踵 |
Publication / Lond84 | |
| 4 | 1930 |
[London, Jack]. Ge ming lun ji. Jiake Lundun zhu ; Qiu Yunduo yi. (Shanghai : Guang hua shu ju, 1930). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Revolution and other essays. (London : Macmillan, 1910). 革命論集 |
Publication / Lond35 | |
| 5 | 1931 |
[London, Jack]. Sheng huo. Fu Donghua yi zhu. (Shanghai : Bei xin shu ju, 1931). (Ying wen xiao cong shu ; 1). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Tu build a fire. In : London, Jack. Lost face. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1910). [Text in Englisch und Chinesisch]. 生火 |
Publication / Lond81 | |
| 6 | 1933 |
[London, Jack]. Shen yuan xia de ren men. Jiake Lundun zhu ; Qiu Yunduo yi. (Shanghai : Guang ming shu ju, 1933). (Shi jie wen xue ming zhu cong shu ; 1). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The people of the abyss. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1903). 深渊下的人們 |
Publication / Lond19 | |
| 7 | 1934 |
[London, Jack]. Hong yun. Jieke Lundun ; Fang Turen yi. (Shanghai : Shang wu yin shu guan, 1934). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The acorn-planter : a California forest play. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1916). 红云 |
Publication / Lond49 | |
| 8 | 1934 |
[London, Jack]. Ying Han dui zhao Hong yun. Fang Turen yi. (Shanghai : Shang wu yin shu guan, 1934). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The acorn-planter : a California forest play. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1916). 英漢對照紅雲 : (種橡實者) |
Publication / Lond111 | |
| 9 | 1935 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Jiake Lundun zhu ; Liu Dajie, Zhang Menglin yi. (Shanghai : Zhonghua shu ju, 1935). (Shi jie wen xue quan ji). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼喚 |
Publication / LiuD8 |
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| 10 | 1935 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing di hu sheng. Jiake Lundun zhu ; Gu Feng, Ouyang Shan yi. (Shanghai : Shang wu yin shu guan, 1935). (Shi jie wen xue ming zhu). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性底呼聲 |
Publication / LonJ1 | |
| 11 | 1935 |
[London, Jack]. Lao quan shi. Jiake Lundun zhu ; Zhang Menglin yi. (Shanghai : Zhong hua shu ju, 1935). (Xin zhong hua con shu. Wen yi hui kan ; 1. Min guo tu shu ji cui). Übersetzung von London, Jack. A piece of steak & other stories. In : London, Jack. When God laughs & other stories. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1911). 老拳師 |
Publication / Lond9 | |
| 12 | 1937 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu sheng. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Zhang Baoxiang yi. (Shanghai : Qi ming shu ju, 1937). (Shi jie wen xue ming zhu). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼聲 |
Publication / Lond103 | |
| 13 | 1937 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun duan pian xiao shuo. Tian Hong yi. (Shanghai : Wen hua sheng huo chu ban she, 1937). [Übersetzung ausgewählter Short stories von London]. 杰克伦敦短篇小说集 |
Publication / Lond128 |
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| 14 | 1939 |
[London, Jack]. He xing de hu sheng. Zhang Baoyang yi. (Shanghai : Qi ming shu ju, 1939). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼聲 |
Publication / Lond127 | |
| 15 | 1943 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Zhou Xing yi. (Guilin : Wen xue yu fan yi chu ban she, 1943). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond10 | |
| 16 | 1945 |
[London, Jack]. Hong zhi wei. Jieke Lundun deng zhu ; Xu Tianhong deng yi. (Yong'an : Shi ri tan she, 1945). (Shi ri tan ji cong xuan ji). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Übersetzung von London, Jack. At the rainbow's end. In : London, Jack. The god of his fathers & other stories. (New York, N.Y. : McClure, Phillips & Co., 1901). 虹之尾 |
Publication / Lond50 | |
| 17 | 1946 |
[London, Jack]. Shen yuan : chang pian bao gao wen xue. Qi Ming yi. (Shanghai : Guang ming, 1946). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The people of the abyss. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1903). 深淵 : 長篇報告文學 |
Publication / Lond79 | |
| 18 | 1947 |
[London, Jack]. Bai ya. Jieke Lundun ; Su Qiao yi. (Shanghai : Guo ji wen hua fu wu she, 1947). (Gu dian wen xue ming zhu xuan yi ; 4). Übersetzung von London, Jack. White fang. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1906). 白牙 |
Publication / Lond26 | |
| 19 | 1947 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Zhou Hang yi. (Shanghai : Xin xin chu ban she, 1947). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond70 | |
| 20 | 1948 |
[London, Jack]. Huang ye de hu huan. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Jiang Tianzuo yi. (Shanghai : Luo tuo shu dien, 1948). (Xian dai Meiguo wen xue yi cong). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 荒野的呼喚 |
Publication / Lond52 | |
| 21 | 1948 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu sheng. Jieke Lundun ; Yu Mutao yi. (Shanghai : Ta dong shu ju, 1948). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼声 |
Publication / Lond97 | |
| 22 | 1948 |
[London, Jack]. Xue hu. Jiang Tianzuo yi. (Shanghai : Luo tuo shu dian, 1948). Übersetzung von London, Jack. White fang. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1906). 雪虎 |
Publication / Lond124 | |
| 23 | 1952 |
[London, Jack]. Qiang zhe de li liang. Jieke Lundun ; Xu Tianhong yi. (Shanghai : Wen hua gong zuo she, 1952). (Wen hua gong zuo she shi jie wen xue xuan cong ; 37). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The strength of the strong. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1914). 强者的力量 |
Publication / Lond17 | |
| 24 | 1952 |
[London, Jack]. Hai shang bian zhou. Jieke Lundun deng zhu ; Ye Yugao yi. (Xianggang : Ren ren chu ban she, 1952). (Meiguo jin dai duan pian xiao shuo xuan ; 1). [Übersetzung von Short stories von London]. 海上扁舟 |
Publication / Lond46 | |
| 25 | 1952 |
[London, Jack]. Kong zhong de che zi. Lundun ; Huang Yongqing yi. (Shanghai : Zhong hua shu ju, 1952). (Er tong wen xue fan yi cong kan). [Original-Titel nicht gefunden]. 空中的车子 |
Publication / Lond67 | |
| 26 | 1953 |
[London, Jack]. Tie ti. Lundun zhu ; Wu Lao, Jin Lu yi. (Shanghai : Ping ming chu ban she, 1953). (Xin yi wen cong kan). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The iron heel. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1908). 鐵蹄 |
Publication / Lond20 | |
| 27 | 1953 |
[London, Jack]. Bei fang de ao de sai. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Chen Fu'an yi. (Shanghai : Shang za chu ban she, 1953). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The son of the wolf. (Boston : Houghton, Mifflin, 1900). 北方的奥德赛 |
Publication / Lond30 | |
| 28 | 1953 |
[London, Jack]. Lie xiong de hai zi. Jieke Lundun ; Huang Yiqing yi. (Shanghai : Shao nian er tong chu ban she, 1951). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 猎熊的孩子 |
Publication / Lond69 | |
| 29 | 1953 |
[London, Jack]. Sheng ming zhi ai. Li Liangmin yi. (Shanghai : Shao nian er tong chu ban she, 1953). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Love of life. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1907). 生命之愛 |
Publication / Lond83 | |
| 30 | 1953 |
[London, Jack]. Zhi yong de ji xi. Lundun ; Xu Guanghui yi. (Hangzhou : Zhongguo er tong shu dian, 1953). (Shi jie er tong wen xue yi cong). [Original-Titel nicht gefunden]. 智勇的吉西 |
Publication / Lond113 | |
| 31 | 1954 |
[London, Jack]. Hai lang. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Qiu Guichang yi. (Shanghai : Xin wen yi chu ban she, 1954). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). 海狼 |
Publication / Lond37 | |
| 32 | 1954 |
[London, Jack]. Shen gu meng shou. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Lin Zhuge, Mu Yu yi. (Shanghai : Shanghai wen yi lian he chu ban she, 1954). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The abysmal brute. In : The popular magazine ; vol. 21, no 4 (Sept. 1, 1911). 深谷猛獸 |
Publication / Lond78 | |
| 33 | 1954 |
[London, Jack]. Re ai sheng ming : xiao shuo. Jieke Lundun ; Yin Fu yi. (Shanghai : Xin wen yi chu ban she, 1954). [Best short stories of Jack London]. [Best short stories of Jack London]. 热爱生命 : 小说 |
Publication / Lond130 | |
| 34 | 1955 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Wu Lao yi. (Shanghai : Ping ming chu ban she, 1955). (Xin yi wen cong kan). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond16 | |
| 35 | 1957 |
[London, Jack]. Ba ke de hu sheng. Jieke Lundun yuan zhu ; Zhi Da fan yi. (Taibei : Taibei zhong he xiang, 1957). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 巴克的呼聲 |
Publication / Lond29 | |
| 36 | 1957 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun duan pian xiao shui xian ji. Jieke Lundon ; Xu Tianhong yi. (Shanghai : Xin wen yi chu ban she, 1957). [Übersetzung von Short stories von London]. 杰克•伦敦短篇小说选集 |
Publication / Lond57 | |
| 37 | 1960 |
[London, Jack]. Re ai sheng ming. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Wan Zi, Yu Ning yi. (Beijing : Ren min wen xue chu ban she, 1960). (Wen xue xiao cong shu). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Love of life. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1907). 热爱生命 |
Publication / Lond18 | |
| 38 | 1960 |
[London, Jack]. Shen yuan li de ren man. Jieke Lundun ; Wu Xiao yi. (Beijing : Shang wu yin shu guan, 1960). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The people of the abyss. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1903). 深渊里的人们 |
Publication / Lond80 | |
| 39 | 1967 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun duan pian xiao shuo xuan. Wu Yuyin yi. (Xianggang : Jin ri shi jie chu ban she, 1967). 傑克倫敦短篇小說選 [Enthält] : Sheng huo. Übersetzung von London, Jack. To build a fire. In : London, Jack. Lost face. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1910). 生火 Yi jiao tu. Übersetzung von London, Jack. The heathen. In : Everyman's magazine ; vol. 23, no 2 (Aug. 1910). 异教徒 |
Publication / Lond59 | |
| 40 | 1967 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun xuan ji. Lundun zhuan ; Bu Zhu yi zhe. (Tainan : Kai shan, 1967). (Kai shan wen xue cong shu ; 4). [Übersetzung ausgewählter Werke von London]. 傑克倫敦選集 |
Publication / Lond62 | |
| 41 | 1967 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Lundun zhuan ; Zheng Qiushui yi. (Taibei : Yuan jing, 1967). (Yuan jing cong kan ; 14). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼喚 |
Publication / Lond93 | |
| 42 | 1969 |
[London, Jack]. Bai ya. Lundun zhuan ; Qiu Hong yi. (Taibei : Chang rong, 1969). (Xin chao wen ku ; 30). Übersetzung von London, Jack. White fang. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1906). 白牙 |
Publication / Lond24 | |
| 43 | 1969 |
[London, Jack]. Huang ye de hu huan. Jieke Lundun zhuan ; Sun Qi yi. (Taibei : Zheng wen, 1969). (Gao shui zhun de du wu). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 荒野的呼喚 |
Publication / Lond54 | |
| 44 | 1971 |
[London, Jack]. Hai lang. Chen Shuangjun yi. (Taibei : Zheng wen shu ju, 1971). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). 海狼 |
Publication / Lond41 | |
| 45 | 1973 |
Shi jie wen xue ming zhu jian shang. Cai Wenfu deng ping. (Taibei : Li ming, 1973). (Li ming wen cong ; 15). 世界文學名著鑑賞 [Enthält] : [Remarque, Erich Maria]. Kai xuan men. Leimake zhuan. Übersetzung von Remarque, Erich Maria. Arc de triomphe : Roman. (München : Desch, 1945). 凱旋門 [London, Jack]. Xue hu. Jieke Lundun zhuan. Übersetzung von London, Jack. White fang. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1906). 雪虎 [Hemingway, Ernest]. Lao ren yu hai. Haimingwei zhuan. Übersetzung von Hemingway, Ernest. The old man and the sea. (New York, N.Y. : Scribner, 1952). 老人與海 [Gomikawa, Junpei]. Ren jian de tiao jian. Wuwei Chuanchunping zhuan. Übersetzung von Gomikawa, Junpei. Ningen no joken [The human condition]. 人間的條件 [Cather, Willa]. Wo de Andongniya. Weila Kaise zhuan. Übersetzung von Cather, Willa. My Antonia. (Boston : H. Mifflin, 1918). 我的安東妮亞 |
Publication / Hem17 | |
| 46 | 1973 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun duan pian xiao shuo xuan. Jieke Lundon zhuan ; Chen Junyi yi. (Taibei : Zheng wen shu ju, 1973). (Ying han dui zhao shi jie ming zhu ; 98). [Übersetzung ausgewählter Short stories von London]. 傑克倫敦短篇小說選 |
Publication / Lond60 | |
| 47 | 1973 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing di hu sheng. Jiake Lundun zhuan ; Cao Kaiyuan yi. (Taibei : Wu zhou, 1973). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性底呼聲 |
Publication / Lond106 | |
| 48 | 1974 |
[Bond, Ruskin]. Sha da de gu shi. Lusijin Bangte zhu ; Ya Di yi. (Xianggang : Da guang chu ban she, 1974). [Original-Titel nicht gefunden]. 莎達的故事 [Enthält] : [London, Jack]. Yong gan de Jieli. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Yi Qing yi. [Original-Titel nicht gefunden]. [London, Jack]. Lie xiong de hai zi. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Yi Qing yi. Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 猎熊的孩子 |
Publication / Lond96 | |
| 49 | 1975 |
[Lundun, Jack]. Hai shang li xian ji. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Zheng Qiushui yi. (Taibei : Yuan jing chu ban she, 1975). (Yuan jing cong kan ; 14). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The cruise of the dazzler. (New York, N.Y. : Century Co., 1910). 海上歷險記 |
Publication / Lond47 | |
| 50 | 1975 |
[London, Jack]. Jin dai Meiguo duan pian xiao shuo jie zuo xuan. Jieke Lundun deng yuan zuo ; Lin Xianzhang yi. (Taibei : Hua xin chu ban you xian gong si, 1975). [Übersetzung von Short stories von London]. 近代美國短篇小說傑作選 |
Publication / Lond66 | |
| 51 | 1976 |
[London, Jack]. Bei ji quan nei di yin mou. = The best short stories of Jack London. Wen Tian yi. (Taibei : Chang gong chu ban she, 1976). (Tu shu quan wen ku ; 6). 北極圈內的陰謀 |
Publication / Lond31 | |
| 52 | 1976 |
[London, Jack]. Sheng ming zhi ai. Jieke Lundun. (Taibei : Yuan jing, 1976). (Yuan jing cong kan ; 13). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Love of life. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1907). 生命之愛 |
Publication / Lond82 |
|
| 53 | 1976 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Lundun zhuan ; Shi Zhizhang yi. (Taibei : Guo ji cun wen, 1976). (Du shu ren cong kan ; 23). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼喚 |
Publication / Lond92 | |
| 54 | 1976 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Lundun zhu ; Tang Xinmei yi. (Xianggang : Jin ri shi jie, 1976). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼喚 |
Publication / Lond100 | |
| 55 | 1977 |
[London, Jack]. Hai lang. Zhang Taiming yi. (Taibei : Zheng wen chu ban she, 1977). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). 海狼 |
Publication / Lond45 | |
| 56 | 1977 |
[London, Jack]. Xie ran xue shan gu. Jieke Lundun zhuan ; Sheng Cheng yi. (Taizhong : Pu tian, 1977). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 血染雪山谷 |
Publication / Lond85 | |
| 57 | 1978 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Pan Shaozhong yi. (Beijing : Shang wu yin shu guan, 1978). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond11 | |
| 58 | 1978 |
[London, Jack]. Huang ye zhi lang. Zheng Qingwen, Ma Jingxian yi. (Taibei : Guang fu shu ju, 1978). (Cai se shi jie er tong wen xue quan ji ; 11). Übersetzung von London, Jack. White fang. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1906). 荒野之狼 |
Publication / Lond55 | |
| 59 | 1978 |
[London, Jack]. Yadang zhi qian. Lundun zhuan : Yue Shui yi. (Taibei : Guo jia chu ban she, 1978). (Du shu ren cong kan ; 53). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Before Adam. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1907). 亞當之前 |
Publication / Lond87 | |
| 60 | 1980 |
[London, Jack]. Hai lang. Lundun zhuan ; Xi mei chu ban she ji. (Taibei : Xi mei chu ban she, 1980). (Shi jie wen xue quan ji ; 58). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). 海狼 |
Publication / Lond38 |
|
| 61 | 1981 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun duan pian xiao shuo xuan. Wan Zi, Yu Ning yi. (Beijing : Wai guo wen xue chu ban she, 1981). [Übersetzung von Short stories von London]. 杰克伦敦短篇小说选 |
Publication / Lond13 | |
| 62 | 1981 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Lundun zhu ; Zhong Si yi. (Taibei : Yuan jing, 1981). (Shi jie wen xue quan ji ; R76). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond71 | |
| 63 | 1981 |
[London, Jack]. Hai lang. Ming jia chu ban she bian ji bu. (Taibei : Xi mei chu ban she, 1981). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). 海狼 |
Publication / Lond129 |
|
| 64 | 1982 |
[London, Jack]. Hai lang. Jieke Lundun zhuan ; Xu Qinan yi. (Taibei : Guo jia chu ban she, 1982). (Du shu ren cong kan ; 25). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). 海狼 |
Publication / Lond40 | |
| 65 | 1982 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun duan pian xiao shuo ji. Jieke Lundun ; Chu Feng, Lan Yi yi. (Beijing : Xin hua chu ban she, 1982). [Übersetzung der gesammelten Short stories von London]. 杰克伦敦短篇小说集 |
Publication / Lond58 | |
| 66 | 1983 |
[London, Jack]. Duan pian xiao shuo : Fu qin shang fa ting. Kaluosi Buluoshan zhu zhe ; Jieke London deng ; Lin Huantang cha tu. (Xianggang : Xin ya wen hua shi ye you xian gong si, 1983). [Übersetzung von Short stories von London. Adapted for children]. 短篇小說 : 父亲上法庭 |
Publication / Lond34 | |
| 67 | 1983 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Zhong Wen yi. (Taibei : Yuan jing, 1983). (Shi jie wen xue quan ji ; 38). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼喚 |
Publication / Lond94 | |
| 68 | 1986 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Yang Naidong yi. (Taibei : Zhi wen, 1984). (Xin chaos hi jie ming zhu ; 13). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼喚 |
Publication / Lond21 | |
| 69 | 1984 |
[London, Jack]. Gelifei chuan zhang li xian ji. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Han Song, Meng Kang yi. (Beijing : Hai yang chu ban she, 1984). Übersetzung von London, Jack. A son of the sun : the adventures of Captain Grief. (Garden City, N.Y. : Doubleday, Page & Co., 1912). 格里菲船长历险记 |
Publication / Lond36 | |
| 70 | 1984 |
[London, Jack]. Hai lang. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Qiu Zhuchang yi. (Shanghai : Yi wen chu ban she, 1984). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). 海狼 |
Publication / Lond39 | |
| 71 | 1985 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu sheng. Wen guo shu ju bian yi bu bian yi ; Tang Yumei zhu bian. (Tainan : Wen guo shu ju, 1985). (Shi jie wen xue ming zhu ; 32). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼聲 |
Publication / Lond104 | |
| 72 | 1985 |
[London, Jack]. Du ri tou. Qiu Zhuchang yi. (Shanghai : Shanghai yi wen chu ban she, 1985). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Burning daylight. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1910). 毒日頭 |
Publication / Lond123 | |
| 73 | 1986 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. (Taibei : Shu hua chu ban she, 1986). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond73 | |
| 74 | 1986 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Jieke Lundun zhu. (Taibei : Shu hua chu ban shi ye you xian gong si, 1986). (Shi jie wen xue quan ji ; 6). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼喚 |
Publication / Lond95 |
|
| 75 | 1987 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Yu Chen yi. (Taibei : Jin feng yin xiang, 1987). (495 xi lie ; 69). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼喚 |
Publication / Lond99 | |
| 76 | 1987 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu sheng. Jieke Lundun yuan zhu ; Shi Cuifeng gai xie. (Taibei : Dong fang chu ban she, 1987). (Er tong wen xue ming zhu ; 3). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼聲 |
Publication / Lond105 | |
| 77 | 1988 |
[London, Jack]. An sha ju. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Li Yongcai, Zhang Qingmin yi. (Jinan : Shandong wen yi chu ban she, 1988). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The Assassination Bureau, Ltd. Completed by Robert L. Fish from notes by Jack London. (New York, N.Y. : McGraw-Hill, 1963). 暗杀局 |
Publication / Lond23 | |
| 78 | 1988 |
[London, Jack]. Hai lang. Lundun zhu ; Song Biyun yi. (Taibei : Yuan jing chu ban Tainan shi, 1988). (Shi jie wen xue quan ji ; 24). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). 海狼 |
Publication / Lond44 | |
| 79 | 1989 |
[London, Jack]. Re ai sheng huo. Jieke Lundun ; Wei Lixing, Yang Yuwen yi zhu. (Beijing : Wai yu jiao xue yu yan jiu chu ban she, 1989). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Love of life. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1907). 热爱生活 |
Publication / Lond75 | |
| 80 | 1989 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Jieke Lundun zhu. (Taibei : Lu qiao, 1989). (Shi jie wen xue ming zhu ; 28). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼喚 |
Publication / Lond89 |
|
| 81 | 1989 |
[London, Jack]. Huang ye de hu huan. Dai Hongxia yi. (Changsha : Hunan wen yi chu ban she, 1989). (Ying Han jie shuo shi jie xue ming zhu). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 荒野的呼唤 |
Publication / Lond141 |
|
| 82 | 1990 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing di hu sheng. (Tainan : Da xia, 1990). (Ta-shia English-Chinese library). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). [Text in Englisch und Chinesisch]. 野性底呼聲 |
Publication / Lond107 |
|
| 83 | 1991 |
Shi jie wen xue ming zhu jing cui. Zhong ying dui zhao. Vol. 1-72. (Taibei : Lu qiao, 1991). (Lu qiao er tong di san zuo tu shu guan). [Enthält] : Homer; Alexandre Dumas; Helen Keller; Mark Twain; Robert Louis Stevenson; Anthony Hope; Charles Dickens; Thomas Hardy; Edgar Allan Poe; Johanna Spyri; Arthur Conan Doyle, Sir; Jack London; Lew Wallace; Charlotte Bronte; Jules Verne; Emily Bronte; Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra; Emma Orczy; Richard Henry Dana; William Shakespeare; Rudyard Kipling; Herman Melville; Sir Walter Scott, bart.; Victor Hugo; James Fenimore Cooper; Johann David Wyss; Jane Austen; Henry James; Jonathan Swift; Stephen Crane; Anna Sewell; Nathaniel Hawthorne; Bram Stoker; Daniel Defoe; H G Wells; William Bligh; Mary Wallstonecraft Shelley; Fyodor Dostoyevsky; O. Henry [William Sydney Porter]; Joseph Conrad. 世界文學名著精粹 |
Publication / Shijie |
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| 84 | 1991 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Jieke Lundun yuan zhu ; Zhang Zhihu bian yi. (Taibei : Yuan zhi chu ban she, 1991). (Shi jie wen xue tu shu guan ; 21). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼喚 |
Publication / Lond101 | |
| 85 | 1992 |
[London, Jack ; Lofting, Hugh]. Wai guo dong wu gu shi jing xuan. (Shanghai : Shanghai ren min mei shu chu ban she, 1992). 外国动物故事精选 [Enthält] : [London, Jack]. Xue hu. Jieke Lundun zhuan ; Wu Wenhuan gai bian ; Xu Hai'ou hui hua.. Übersetzung von London, Jack. White fang. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1906). 雪虎 [Lofting, Hugh]. Zhi po zong huo an. Luofuting yuan zhu ; Zhang Qirong gai bian ; Zhou Youwu hui hua. Übersetzung von Lofting, Hugh. The story of Doctor Dolittle. (New York, N.Y. : Frederick A. Stokes, 1920). |
Publication / Lof16 | |
| 86 | 1992 |
[London, Jack]. Huang ye de hu huan. Jieke Lundun ; Cheng Yuyan yi. (Beijing : Kai ming chu ban she, 1992). (Ying han dui zhao shi jie ming zhu lian huan hua). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 荒野的呼唤 |
Publication / Lond51 | |
| 87 | 1992 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Jiang Weikeng yi. (Taibei : Guo jia chu ban she, 1992). (Shu de shi jie). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond136 |
|
| 88 | 1993 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun zuo pin jing cui. Lundun ; Yu Ning yi. (Shijiazhuang : Hebei jiao yu chu ban she 1993). (Shi jie wen xue bo lan cong shu). [Übersetzung von Werken von London]. 杰克伦敦作品精粹 |
Publication / Lond65 | |
| 89 | 1993 |
[London, Jack]. Shi jie wei xue bo lan. Jieke Lundun ; Wu Ningkun zhu bian ; Yu Ning xuan bian. (Shijiazhuang : Hebei jiao yu chu ban she, 1993). [Original-Titel nicht gefunden]. 世界文学博览 |
Publication / Lond77 | |
| 90 | 1993 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Jieke Lundun zuo ; Li Jiayi gai xie. (Taibei : Han yi se yan wen hua chu ban, 1993). (Qing shao nian bi du his jie wen xue ming zhu). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼喚 |
Publication / Lond90 | |
| 91 | 1994 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun duan pian xiao shuo xuan. Jiang Jiansong yi. (Changsha : Hunan wen yi chu ban she, 1994). (Shi jie duan pian xiao shuo jing hua). [Übersetzung ausgewählter Short stories von London]. 傑克倫敦短篇小說選 |
Publication / Lond14 | |
| 92 | 1995 |
[London, Jack]. Yi kuai niu pai : Jieke Lundon zhong duan pian xiao shuo jing xuan. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Yu Bin, Wen Hong bian. (Bejing : Hua wen chu ban she, 1995). (Jin si dai hai nei wai wen hua jiao liu cong shu). [Übersetzung ausgewählter Short stories von London]. 一块牛排 : 杰克伦敦中短篇小说精选 [Enthält] : London, Jack. A piece of steak & other stories. In : London, Jack. When God laughs & other stories. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1911). |
Publication / Lond22 | |
| 93 | 1995 |
[London, Jack]. Huang ye de hu huan. Jike Lundun zhu ; Sun Yibing, Cui Yonglu yi. (Beijing : Zhongguo qing nian, 1995). (Qing shao nian you xiu wai guo wen xue du wu xi lie). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 荒野的呼唤 |
Publication / Lond53 | |
| 94 | 1995 |
[London, Jack]. Ji xi. Jieke Lundun yuan zhu ; Meilusi [May Rousseau] hui tu ; Yin Ping yi xie. (Taiwan : Mai ke, 1995). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 吉希 |
Publication / Lond56 | |
| 95 | 1995 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun wen ji. Jieke Lundeun ; Zhu Xinguang bian. (Changchun : Jilin da xue chu ban she, 1995). [Übersetzung von Short stories von London]. 杰克倫敦文集 |
Publication / Lond61 | |
| 96 | 1995 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Lu Yihong, Jian Dingyu yi ; Felipu Mouhan [Philippe Munch] hui. (Wuhan : Chang jiang wen yi chu ban she, 1995). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼喚 |
Publication / Lond91 |
|
| 97 | 1996 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Zhang Xuemei, Xu Qingming deng yi. (Hefei : Anhui wen yi chu ban she, 1996). (Shi jie wen xue ming zhu bai bu). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 马丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond12 | |
| 98 | 1996 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun zhong duan pian xiao shuo jing xuan = Selected novelettes and short stories of Jack London. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Lu Weimin yi. (Shenyang : Shenyang chu ban she, 1996). (Wai guo wen xue ming zhe zhen cang quan yi ben cong shu). 杰克倫敦中短篇小說精選 |
Publication / Lond15 | |
| 99 | 1996 |
[London, Jack]. Hai lang. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Xu Xiaomei yi ; Wen Zijian zhu bian. (Xianggang : Hong guang shu ju, 1996). (Ying Han dui zhao shi jie wen xue ming zhu ; 29). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). 海狼 |
Publication / Lond43 | |
| 100 | 1996 |
[London, Jack]. Kuang ye de hu huan. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Wu Geyan deng yi. (Shijiazhuang : Hua shan wen yi chu ban she, 1996). (Ren yu zi ran shi jie ming zhu xi lie). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 旷野的呼唤 |
Publication / Lond68 | |
| 101 | 1996 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. (Beijing : Wai yu jiao xue yu yan jiu chu ban she, 1996). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild, White Fang, and other stories. (Oxford ; New York, N.y. : Oxford University Press, 1990). 野性的呼唤 = 白牙及其他小说 |
Publication / Lond102 |
|
| 102 | 1996 |
[London, Jack]. Hai lang. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Liu Jian yi. (Hefei : Anhui wen yi chu ban she, 1996). (Mei guo wen xue ming zhu cong shu). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). 海狼 |
Publication / Lond132 | |
| 103 | 1996 |
[London, Jack]. Hai lang. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Liu Jianyi. (Hefei : Anhui wen yi chu ban she, 1996). (Mei guo wen xue ming zhu cong shu). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). 海狼 |
Publication / Lond133 | |
| 104 | 1996 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Yin Weiben yi. (Beijing : Ren min wen xue chu ban she, 1996). (Shi jie wen xue ming zhu wen ku). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond134 | |
| 105 | 1997 |
[London, Jack]. Re ai sheng ming. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Hu Chunlan yi. (Beijing : Jie fang jun wen yi chu ban she, 1997). (Shi jie ming jia ming zhu ming yi. Da zhong cong shu ; 1). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Love of life. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1907). 热爱生命 |
Publication / Lond8 | |
| 106 | 1997 |
[London, Jack]. Hao zhai you qing. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Xie Weiqun yi. (Nanchang : Bai hua zhou wen yi chu ban she, 1997). (Jieke Lundun xiao shuo xuan). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The little lady of the big house. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1915). 豪宅幽情 |
Publication / Lond48 | |
| 107 | 1997 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun zuo pin ji. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Zhang Jixuan, Ma Xiaoying yi. (Xining : Qing hair en min chu ban she, 1997). (Shi jie wen xue ming zhu). 杰克伦敦作品集 [Enthält]. Hai lang. Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). 馬丁伊登 Mading Yideng. Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond64 | |
| 108 | 1997 |
[London, Jack]. Xing you ren. Jieke Lundun ; Xiao Zhong yi. (Nanchang : Bai hua zhou wen yi chu ban she, 1997). (Jieke Lundun xiao shuo xuan). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The star rover. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1915). 星游人 |
Publication / Lond86 | |
| 109 | 1997 |
[London, Jack]. Yue liang gu. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Qi Yongfa, Gong Xiaoming yi. (Nanchang : Bai hua zhou wen yi chu ban she, 1997). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The valley of the moon. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). [Text in Englisch und Chinesisch]. 月亮谷 |
Publication / Lond112 | |
| 110 | 1997 |
[London, Jack]. Xue hu. Jiang Tianzuo yi. (Shanghai : Luo tuo shu dian, 1948). Übersetzung von London, Jack. White fang. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1906). 雪虎 |
Publication / Lond125 |
|
| 111 | 1997 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Si Min yi. (Guilin : Lijian chu ban she, 1997). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond126 |
|
| 112 | 1998 |
[London, Jack]. Bai ya. Jieke Lundun ; rewritten by David Oliphant. (Taibei : Lu qiao wen hua shi ye you xian gong si, 1998). (Shi jie wen xue ming zhu jing cui ; 10). Übersetzung von London, Jack. White fang. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1906). 白牙 |
Publication / Lond27 | |
| 113 | 1998 |
[London, Jack]. Da ri tou. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Li Derong, Qin Yiqiong yi. (Nanchang : Bai hua zhou wen yi chu ban she, 1998). (Jieke London xiao shuo xuan). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Burning daylight. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1910). 大日头 |
Publication / Lond32 | |
| 114 | 1998 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yidian. Jieke Lundun ; Sun Fali yi. (Nanjing : Yilin chu ban she, 1998). (Yilin shi jie wen xue ming zhu. Gu dian xi lie). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 马丁伊甸 |
Publication / Lond72 | |
| 115 | 1998 |
[London, Jack]. Re ai sheng ming : Jieke Lundun ji. Li Shuyan zhu bian. (Beijing : Beijing da xue chu ban she, 1998). (Mei guo zhu ming zuo jia ming pian xuan zhu ; 2). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Love of life. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1907). 热爱生命 : 杰克伦敦集 |
Publication / Lond76 | |
| 116 | 1998 |
[London, Jack]. Yi jiao tu. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Tu Haiyan deng yi. (Nanchang : Bai hua zhou wen yi chu ban she, 1998). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The heathen. In : Everyman's magazine ; vol. 23, no 2 (Aug. 1910). 异教徒 |
Publication / Lond108 | |
| 117 | 1998 |
[London, Jack]. Yi kuai niu pai. Jieke Lundun ; Zhi Yuqing [et al.] yi. (Beijing : Hua wen chu ban she, 1998). (Jin si dai cong shu. Shi jie zhong duan pian xiao shuo jing xuan). [Selected short stories of London]. 一块牛排 |
Publication / Lond109 | |
| 118 | 1998 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Liu Jianyi, Wen Lihua yi. (Guangzhou ; Xin shi ji chu ban she, 1998). (Shi jie er tong jing dian xiao shuo. Gus hi zhen cang wen ku. Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼唤 |
Publication / Lond143 | |
| 119 | 1999 |
[London, Jack]. Bai ya. Jieke Lundun Zhu ; Su Qiuhua yi. (Taibei : Xi dai, 1999). (Shi jie wen xue dian cang ban ; 11). Übersetzung von London, Jack. White fang. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1906). 白牙 |
Publication / Lond25 | |
| 120 | 1999 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun zhong duan pian xiao shuo xuan. Zhao Jun, Gao Limin yi. (Jinan : Shandong wen yi chu ban she, 1999). [Übersetzung von Novellen von London]. 杰克伦敦中短篇小说选 |
Publication / Lond63 | |
| 121 | 1999 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Feng Zehui yi. (Chengdou : Sichuan ren min chu ban she, 1999). (Ying han dui zhao shi jie ming zhu jing xuan ; 13). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼唤 |
Publication / Lond131 | |
| 122 | 1999 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Zhang Jinghao yi. (Guangzhou : Hua cheng chu ban she, 1999). (Ming zhu xin yi). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond135 |
|
| 123 | 1999 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Wan Qidong yi. (Yanji : Yanan ren min chu ban she, 1999). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼唤 |
Publication / Lond137 |
|
| 124 | 1999 |
[London, Jack]. Re ai sheng ming. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Ji Xusheng yi. (Beijing : Beijing yan shan chu ban she, 1999). (Shi jie wen xue wen ku). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Love of life. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1907). 热爱生命 |
Publication / Lond138 | |
| 125 | 1999 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Jieke Lundun zhu ; Ding Xun, Li Yunxia yi. (Haikou : Nanhai chu ban gong si, 1999). (Shi jie er tong wen xue ming zhu). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼唤 |
Publication / Lond144 | |
| 126 | 1999 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Jia Wenyuan yi. (Beijing : Yanshan chu ban she, 2000). (Shi jie wen xue wen ku). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond145 | |
| 127 | 1999 |
[London, Jack]. Mading Yideng. Wang Fangfang yi. (Haerbin : Haerbin chu ban she, 1999). (Shi jie wen xue ming zhu jing dian). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 |
Publication / Lond146 |
|
| 128 | 2000 |
[London, Jack]. Jieke Lundun wen ji. Hu Jialuan zhu bian. (Shijiazhuang : Hebei jiao yu chu ban she, 2000). (Shi jie wen hao shu xi). 杰克伦敦文集 [Enthält] : Vol. 1 : Hai lang. Qiu Zhuchang yi. Übersetzung von London, Jack. The sea-wolf. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1904). 海狼 Vol. 2 : Tie ti. Yang Weidong yi. Übersetzung von London, Jack. The iron heel. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1908). 鐵蹄 Vol. 3 : Mading Yideng. Übersetzung von London, Jack. Martin Eden. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 馬丁伊登 Vol. 4 : Du ri tou. Qiu Zhuchang yi. Übersetzung von London, Jack. Burning daylight. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1910). 毒日頭 Vol. 5 : Yue liang gu. Mao Zhuoliang yi. Übersetzung von London, Jack. The valley of the moon. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1913). 月亮谷 Vol. 6 : Hun you. Qian Jiyang, Luo Zhiqiang yi. Übersetzung von London, Jack. The star rover. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1915). 魂游 Vol. 7 : Huang ye de hu huan. Jiang Tianzuo ; Hou Yilin yi. Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 荒野的呼唤 Vol. 8 : Zai Yadang zhi qian. Miao Meizhen, Cui Xinjuan, Wang Xiaoying yi. Übersetzung von London, Jack. Before Adam. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1907). 亚当之前 Vol. 9 : Shen gu meng shou deng. Zhu Gelin, Yu Mu, Li Sumiao, Long Maozhong yi. Übersetzung von London, Jack. The abysmal brute. In : The popular magazine ; vol. 21, no 4 (Sept. 1, 1911). 深谷猛兽等 Vol. 10 : Ji jing de xue ye deng. Yu Ning yi. Übersetzung von London, Jack. The white silence. In : Overland monthly ; vol. 33 (Febr. 1899). 寂静的雪野等 Vol. 11 : Danbosi zhi meng deng. Xu Tianhong yi. Übersetzung von London, Jack. The dream of debs. In : International socialist review ; Jan. (1909). 但勃斯之梦等 Vol. 12 : Te xie, zheng lun, sui bi, za wen. Wang Wei yi. [Non-fiction works of London]. 特写政论随笔杂文等 |
Publication / Lond28 |
|
| 129 | 2000 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hua huan. Jieke Lundun ; Yu Shihua yi. (Beijing : Wai wen chu ban she, 2000). (Shi jie jing dian ming zhu jie lu cong shu. Zhong ying wen dui zhao du wu ; 2). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼唤 |
Publication / Lond98 | |
| 130 | 2000 |
[London, Jack]. Re ai sheng ming. Zhang Chao yi. (Hohot : Yuan fang chu ban she, 2000). (Ying xiang ren sheng de chuan shi cong shu). Übersetzung von London, Jack. Love of life. (New York, N.Y. : Macmillan, 1907). 热爱生命 |
Publication / Lond139 |
|
| 131 | 2000 |
[London, Jack]. Ye xing de hu huan. Pu Chaoying yi. Hohot : Yuan fang chu ban she, 2000). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 野性的呼唤 |
Publication / Lond140 |
|
| 132 | 2000 |
[London, Jack]. Huang ye de hu huan. Cheng Yaping yi. (Beijing : Taihai chu ban she, 2000). (Shi jie jing dian ming zhu wen ku). Übersetzung von London, Jack. The call of the wild. In : The Saturday Evening Post ; vol. 175, no 51-vol. 176, no 3 = June 20-July 18 (1903). 荒野的呼唤 |
Publication / Lond142 |
|
| 133 | 2009 | London, Jack. The Asian writings of Jack London : essays, letters, newspaper dispatches, and short fiction.With an introductory analysis by Daniel A. Métraux. (Queenston, Ont. : Edwin Mellen Press, 2009). | Publication / Lond1 |
Secondary Literature (17)
| # | Year | Bibliographical Data | Type / Abbreviation | Linked Data |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 1949 |
[Stone, Irving]. Jieke Lundun zhuan. Ouwen Sitong zhu ; Dong Qiusi yi. (Shanghai : Hai yan shu dian, 1949). Übersetzung von Stone, Irving. Sailor on horseback : the biography of Jack London. (Boston : H. Mifflin, 1938). 傑克倫敦傳 |
Publication / Lond120 | |
| 2 | 1956 |
Feng, Yuning ; Rong, Ying. Zi xue cheng gong de wen xue jia. (Xianggang : Jiulong zi xue chu ban she, 1956). [Abhandlung über Maxim Gorky, A. Nikolai Ostrovsky, Jack London, Honoré de Balzac, William Shakespeare]. 自學成功的文學家 |
Publication / BalH83 | |
| 3 | 1956 |
[Fedunov, P.]. Jieke Lundun. Pu Fedunuofu zhu ; Hai Ge yi. (Shanghai : Xin wen yi chu ban she, 1956). [Biographie von Jack London]. 傑克•倫敦 |
Publication / Lond115 | |
| 4 | 1981 |
Qi, Yikai. Jieke Lundun he ta de xiao shuo. (Beijing : Beijing chu ban she, 1981). (Wai guo wen xue zhi shi cong shu). [Abhandlung über Jack London]. 杰克伦敦和他的小說 |
Publication / Lond118 | |
| 5 | 1982 |
[Sinclair, Andrew]. Jieke Lundun. Anzhuolu Xinkelai zuo zhe ; Liang Shiqiu zhu bian ; Qiu Qi yi zhe. (Taibei : Ming ren chu ban shi ye gu fen you xian gong si, 1982). (Ming ren wei ren zhuan ji quan ji ; 69). Übersetzung von Sinclair, Andrew. Jack : a biography of Jack London. (London : Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1978). 傑克倫敦 |
Publication / LiaS69 | |
| 6 | 1983 |
Shi, Tong. Jieke Lundun chuan. Tong Qiusi yi. (Taibei : Guo ji wen hua, 1983). (Shi jie ming ren zhuan ji ; 4). [Biographie von Jack London]. 傑克倫敦傳 |
Publication / Lond119 | |
| 7 | 1988 |
Li, Shuyan. Jieke Lundun yan jiu. Li Shuyan xuan bian. (Guilin : Lijiang chu ban she, 1988). (Wai guo wen xue yan jiu zi liao cong shu). [Abhandlung über Jack London]. 傑克倫敦硏究 |
Publication / Lond117 | |
| 8 | 1991 |
[Calder-Marshall, Arthur]. Gu lang : Jieke Lundun yi shi. Kaoerde-Maxieer zhu ; Liu Bangli, Qiao Fazhou yi. (Shanghai : Shanghai yi wen chu ban she, 1991). (Chuan ji xiao cong shu). Übersetzung von Calder-Marshall, Arthur. Lone wolf : the story of Jack London. (New York, N.Y. : Duell, Sloan and Pearce, 1961). 孤狼 : 杰克伦敦轶事 |
Publication / Lond114 | |
| 9 | 1991 |
[Gleiter, Jan ; Thompson, Kathleen]. Jieke Lundun : mao xian ku xue de wen xue jia. Jian Geleite [Jan Gleiter], Kaiselin Tangpusen [Kathleen Thompson] zhu ; Falaixisi Balisicui [Francis Belistreri] hui hua zhe. (Taibei : Lu qiao wen hua shi ye you xian gong si, 1991). (Lu qiao si xiang jiao yu gu shi. Si xiang, ren ge jiao yu ; 22). Übersetzung von Gleiter, Jan ; Thompson, Kathleen. Jack London. Ill. by Francis Balistreri. (Milwaukee : Raintree Childrens Books, 1988). 傑克倫敦 : 冒險苦學的文學家 |
Publication / Lond116 | |
| 10 | 1996 |
Yu, Jianhua. Jieke Lundun chuan. Yu Jianhua bian zhu. (Taibei : Ye qiang chu ban she, 1996). (Wai guo wen hua ming ren zhuan ji ; 21). [Biographie von Jack London]. 傑克倫敦傳 |
Publication / Lond121 | |
| 11 | 1999 |
Yu, Liqing. Ruan xin chang de lang : ming yun kan ke de Jieke Lundun. Qian Jiwei, Zheng Kaijun hui. (Taibei : San min, 1999). (Er tong wen xue cong shu). [Abhandlung über Jack London]. 軟心腸的狼 : 命運坎坷的傑克.倫敦 |
Publication / Lond122 | |
| 12 | 2000 |
[Maurois, André ; Stone, Irving]. Yuguo zhuan. Jieke Lundun zhuan. Andelie Moluoya zhu ; Zhou Yuling yi. Ouwen Sitong zhu ; Fu Jinzhu yi. (Beijing : Zhong gong zhong yang dang xiao chu ban she, 2000). (Shi jie ming ren ming jia ming zhuan ; 41). Übersetzung von Maurois, André. Olympio ; ou, La vie de Victor Hugo. (Paris : Hachette, 1954). (Les grands écrivains : hier, aujourd’hui). Übersetzung von Stone, Irving. Sailor on horseback : the biography of Jack London. (Boston : H. Mifflin, 1938). 雨果传 /杰克伦敦传 |
Publication / Hugo165 | |
| 13 | 2008 |
Métraux, Daniel A. Jack London reporting from Tokyo and Manchuria : the forgotten role of an influential observer of early modern Asia. In : Asia Pacific perspectives ; vol. 8, no 1 (2008). https://www.usfca.edu/uploadedFiles/Destinations/Institutes_and_ Centers/pacificrim/perspectives/docs/v8n1/app_v8n1_metraux.pdf. |
Publication / Lond3 |
|
| 14 | 2009 |
Métraux, Daniel A. Jack London and the yellow peril. In : Education about Asia ; vol. 14, no 1 (2009). https://www.asian-studies.org/eaa/Metraux-14-1.pdf |
Publication / Lond2 |
|
| 15 | 2009 | London, Jack. The Asian writings of Jack London : essays, letters, newspaper dispatches, and short fiction.With an introductory analysis by Daniel A. Métraux. (Queenston, Ont. : Edwin Mellen Press, 2009). | Publication / Lond1 | |
| 16 | 2013 | Lockard, Joe ; Qin, Dan. Jack London, anti-Chinese racism, and structural censorship in Chinese translation. In : Translation quarterly ; no 69 (2013). | Publication / Lond6 | |
| 17 | 2015 |
Swift, John N. Jack London's "The unparalleled invasion" : germ warfare, eugenics, and cultural hygiene. In : American literary realism ; vol. 35, no 1 (2002). http://www.jstor.org/stable/27747084?seq=12#page_scan_tab_contents |
Publication / Lond5 |
|