From the Shelves of the Paco Library

A while back I did a “shelves” post in which I reviewed the
Max Carrados detective stories written by Ernest Bramah. Friend and commenter Mild Colonial Boy pointed out that Bramah had also written a series involving an ancient Chinese story-teller named Kai Lung. I found a nice first American edition of Kai Lung Unrolls His Mat (first published in 1928) at one of my favorite used bookstores, and I commend and thank MCB for bringing this excellent book to my attention.

The framework of the novel is a series of stories within the main story. Kai Lung’s house is burned down and his wife is taken prisoner by an old foe, Ming-Shu, who has raised the flag of rebellion against his emperor. Kai Lung sets out on a long and dangerous journey to rescue his beloved Hwa-mei, and his own story is punctuated with the yarns that he tells to various people he meets along the way in order to earn his daily rice.

Throughout the book Bramah employs a highly formal and polite prose style to suggest the exquisite verbal courtesy of the mandarins, although the richly-ornamented language is used by everyone from the Emperor down to common cut-throats. The mannered style of the language, against the background of the very menacing scrapes and tight spots that Kai Lung and his characters get themselves into, leads to an abundance of irony and much dry humor.

Take, for example, Wan and his wife Lan-yen. Due to the sudden death of Wan’s improvident father, and the onset of famine, the young couple gradually find themselves reduced to the utmost privation, and are on the verge of starving. Lan-yen finally convinces Wan to cut some leaves from two mysterious shrubs growing near their house so that they might try their nutritional value. Wan is reluctant, because the shrubs – heretofore considered of no practical use – are said to have grown on a holy site. His protests unavailing, he finally yields to Lan-yen’s pleas, though with great misgivings concerning the potential effects, and picks some of the leaves from the bushes which his wife prepares in a bowl.

Now, husband and wife undoubtedly have great affection for each other, yet it is amusing to see that each still cherishes a special regard for “Number One”:

When all was ready, she set the alien fare before Wan and took her place beside the chair to serve his hand.

“Eat,” she exhorted, “and may the Compassionate Ones protect you.”

“I lean against their sympathetic understanding,” responded Wan devoutly as he looked beneath the cover. “Nevertheless,” he added graciously, “on so momentous an occasion priority shall be yours.”

“By no means,” replied Lan-yen hastily, at the same time pressing him back into the seat he would vacate. “Not until you have slaked your noble appetite shall my second-rate lips partake.”

“It is proverbial that from a hungry tiger and an affectionate woman there is no escape,” murmured Wan, and taking up a portion of the food he swallowed it.”

The book abounds in imaginative and witty tales having to do with, among other things, the discovery of tea and the evolution of a simple protection racket into the insurance industry (“The Story of Tong So, the Averter of Calamities”). The novel possesses the advantage of being the kind of work that you can read straight through, or dip into as the mood strikes you. Bramah published a half dozen books in this series, and I am looking forward to searching them all out eventually.