A tale of battling armies, political intrigue, star-crossed romance, and historical cataclysm, The Peach Blossom Fan is one of the masterpieces of Chinese literature, a vast dramatic composition that combines the range and depth of a great novel with the swift intensity of film. In the mid-1640s, famine sweeps through China. The Ming dynasty, almost 300 years old, lurches to a bloody end. Peking falls to the Manchus, the emperor hangs himself, and Ming loyalists take refuge in the southern capital of Nanking. Two valiant generals seek to defend the city, but nothing can overcome the corruption, decadence, and factionalism of the court in exile. The newly installed emperor cares for nothing but theater, leaving practical matters to the insidious Ma Shih-ying. Ma’s crony Juan Ta-ch’eng is as unscrupulous an operator as he is sophisticated a poet. He diverts resources from the starving troops in order to stage a spectacular production of his latest play. History, however, has little time for make-believe, though the earnest members of the Revival Club, centered on the handsome young scholar Hou Fang-yü and his lover Fragrant Princess, struggle to discover a happy ending.

Taken together, I contend, these layers of The Peach Blossom Fan theatricalize the literary genre of the chuanqi, drawing attention to the representational limits of historical narratives and capturing the ways in which writing is yet another form of performance.

Focusing on two late-Ming or early-Qing plays central to the Chinese canon (Peony Pavilion and Peach Blossom Fan), this study explores crucial questions concerning personal identity.

The Peach Blossom Fan is a poetic drama about national cataclysm. More than 300 years ago, the last native Chinese imperial house fell before rebel onslaughts, made a short-lived attempt at restoration in the south, then yielded finally to the invading Manchus. Writing in the 1690s, Kng Shang-jen gathered the recollections of survivors. Out of these and a multitude of documentary accounts, he constructed a great historical play in the elegant Southern Chinese style. With compelling vividness he recreates confrontations between loyalists and those who would sell out to the newest master; nostalgic scenes of dalliance in riverside pavilions, with wine and poetry and beautiful girls; desperate stands on battlements of beleaguered cities; and more. Sir Harold Acton, who collaborated with the late S. H. Chen and Cyril Birch in making this translation, has captured in his lively English the spirit and nuances of the original. Prefatory materials and notes provide both historical and dramaturgical background for the reader full enjoyment of this masterpiece.