"You consider me too poor to eat here?" the boy said directly to the waiter. "You mistake me. I fear even your best dishes would not satisfy my palate."
"Is that so?" the waiter replied. "We would be happy to serve them to you, but my real concern is, can you pay?"
"Will you treat me to whatever I order?" the boy said, turninG to Guo Jing.
"Of course!" Guo Jing said, and then turned to the waiter. "Another pound of roast beef and half a pound of mutton liver!" These were the finest delicacies he could imagine. "Do you drink wine?" he asked the boy.
"Wait," the boy said to the waiter. "First we will eat some fruit and nuts, four dried, four fresh, two sour-salted and four preserved in honey."
The waiter looked surprised. "Which fruits would you like?"
"I doubt you serve anything of note in a poor little inn like this." he said, "so we'll have to make do with dried lychees, longans, steamed jujube and ginkgo nuts. As for the fresh, give us whatever's in season. And we want sliced, perfumed sour cherries and sour plums with ginger. Can you get them here? And the honeyed? Hmm. Rose-scented kumquats, grapes, sugar-coated peach and some pear, done in the style of Lord My Master."
The waiter was impressed and was no longer haughty with the boy.
"I take it you don't have any fresh fish or seafood to have with our wine," the young man continued. "So we will have to be content with eight dishes of whatever you've got."
"What do the sirs like in particular?"
"Of course, they need everything to be explained down to the last detail," the boy sighed. "Petal-dressed quail, fried duck's feet, chicken-tongue soup, drunken deer tripe, pan-fried beef done two ways, rabbit slivers in cHRysanthemum, flame-cooked venison and … pig's trotter in ginger vinegar. We'll take these simple dishes, I don't anticipate you have anything more refined."
The waiter's mouth was by now agape.
"Big Brother," Lotus began, "I want to ask you for something. But I fear it is something you value highly and you won't to part with it."
"Would you give me your horse?"
"Gladly." Guo Jing replied without hesitation.
In fact, Lotus was teasing him. It was clear that Guo Jing felt a great attachment to the animal, and they had only just met. But his reply took her by surprise and she buried her face in her sleeve.
Guo Jing watched awkwardly. "What's the matter, Brother, are you unwell?"
Lotus looked up. The tears had cleaned her cheeks, revealing a jadeite glow beneath. "Let's go," she said.
Guo Jing paid and together they went outside. Guo Jing took his horse by the reins and spoke to it, caressing its mane. "You will now go with my friend here. Be good and do as he says, and no more of your foul temper!" He then turned to Lotus. "Brother, up you get!"
A young maiden was rowing towards them, her black hair tumbling down over her shoulders and white robes. Her golden hairpins twinkled in the winter sunlight. She looked like a celestial goddess and Guo Jing was struck dumb. As she came closer, he realised she could not be more than fifteen or sixteen. Her skin was as white as the surrounding fields and her beauty was like none he had ever seen before. She approached with a broad smile.
Guo Jing turned, unable to look straight at her, and blushed.
He’s a learnt writer and he takes that learning light。
A punch isn’t just a punch, behind it comes the force of thousands of years of Chinese medicine, understandings of the body, attention to muscle and movement, breathing and meridian lines. A poem isn’t just a poem, behind it can be glimpsed the elegance of a thousand poems, the layered meanings of one flower, the stories of poets of bygone ages, dynasties rising, falling, and those who fought against these things with only their brush as their weapon.
“打：hit、punch， 是很快的，readers should feel like the same，”她这样说。
When you read as a Chinese people, you’ll know it’s a girl, and Guo Jing doesn’t know. That’s part of his character. The English readers won’t know and then the whole point of dynamic and that part of the character is lost.
He is the best-selling living author in China, which means he is the best-selling author in the world.
Yes,He is quite big deal.
Jin Yong has a cultural currency roughly represented by Harry Potter and Star Wars combine.
As I read Anna Holmwood’s vibrant translation… I felt a slight regret that I was coming to this novel in my fifth decade. It would be a wonderful initiation into a lifelong enthusiasm for China, its history and civilization, its vast and chronically misunderstood presence in the world.
I’m really delighted that Jin Yong’s writing has finally be available to mainstream American audience.
And one success can open the door a little bit more, and finally every one could come to the door then.
There were slight lack of faith in translating Jin Yong, something so Chinese to be translatable, which is a self-reflection of how much Chinese people feel their culture has been neglected.
I feel very sympathetic. Things are changing very rapidly, and now it’s the time for Chinese people to feel confident about the place of their history and their culture in the world.
在走出这一步的时候，她还有个得天独厚的条件，除了译者，她还是一名出版代理。她深谙出版社和代理的心理，能从历史背景(西方对蒙古人的了解)、人物塑造和情感、以及其实并不陌生的文学类型(epic history fantasy)来找到让西方熟悉《射雕》的点。
Untended, the peach blossoms still open,
As follow fields of tobacco draw the crows.
In times past, by the village well,
Families once gathered to vent their sorrows.
I strongly believe that what makes some thing unique to a culture, doesn’t also make it a barrier, at least not necessarily. They can be precisely the thing that makes it stand out and you do well in translation.