1. Why Is Dream of the Red Chamber Unforgettable?

From 2014 to 2015, I taught Dream of the Red Chamber at National Taiwan University for a year and a half, from Chapter 1 through Chapter 120. I thought one semester would be about right: eight chapters per week would just finish the book. But after one semester, I had covered only forty chapters. What could I do but continue? In the second semester, I added an hour and even held make-up classes during the Dragon Boat Festival. By its end, we had reached Chapter 80. Dream of the Red Chamber is a book from heaven. It cannot be exhausted; a lifetime is not enough.

People at NTU told me that since I had begun and already covered eighty chapters, failing to continue would let Cao Xueqin down. So I went on. I added yet another hour at the end and just managed to finish all 120 chapters—a total of one hundred hours. The book is so enormous that today's university students seem a little frightened of it; not many are willing to read it. But I am genuinely anxious when university students do not read Dream of the Red Chamber.

At least in my course, I wanted students to follow me from Chapter 1 to Chapter 120 and read it once. They had to, because I examined them. Some questions were deliberately difficult and could not be answered by searching online. I remember a teaching assistant suggesting that we ask: what snack did Grandmother Jia eat? It was a little cruel, but if you had read the book once, you would at least have an impression.

After completing all 120 chapters, I published a book called Pai Hsien-yung on Dream of the Red Chamber. It remains essentially a reader's guide, intended to lead first-time readers—and those who have already read the novel—toward a fresh view.

My approach is entirely one of close reading. This is a common method for studying literature at American universities, associated with New Criticism. It puts the text first and analyzes the text itself. Much may be implied rather than stated, but we analyze the novel through its words, lines, structure, and whole. In other words, we read it entirely as literature and as a novel.

In discussing all 120 chapters, I naturally touched on today's subject: the characters of Dream of the Red Chamber. I want to take a comprehensive view, following a character from beginning to end, asking what place that person occupies in the novel and, most importantly, how Cao Xueqin creates them.

Consider six traditional Chinese novels: Romance of the Three Kingdoms, Water Margin, Journey to the West, The Plum in the Golden Vase, The Scholars, and Dream of the Red Chamber. Where does Chinese fiction excel? In character. Romance of the Three Kingdoms contains battle after battle. We may no longer remember the battles, but we do not forget Cao Cao, Zhuge Liang, or the Peach Garden oath of Liu Bei, Guan Yu, and Zhang Fei. The characters carry the novel.

We do not forget Cao Cao composing verse with his spear poised before Red Cliffs. We do not forget Zhuge Liang in his feather fan and scholar's cap, laughing and talking as he defeats Sima Yi. Chinese fiction triumphs through the bearing and image of its characters. We remember many of the 108 heroes of Water Margin: the tattooed monk Lu Zhishen, Wu Song, Song Jiang, and many others. We may forget the stories of whom they fought, but not the people.

Before Dream of the Red Chamber, Chinese fiction did not succeed chiefly through structure; its structures were relatively loose. The 108 heroes are not necessarily bound closely together, but each is like a finely painted portrait. Journey to the West is filled with demons and monsters—the spider spirits of Webbed Hollow, the Bull Demon King, Princess Iron Fan—but above all we can never forget the monkey and the pig. Again, character prevails. The Plum in the Golden Vase has its household of wives and concubines, but we remember Pan Jinlian and Li Ping'er. The Scholars presents one scholar after another.

Every fine novel that remains with us today contains a character we cannot forget. If a story is full of twists but the protagonist fades into a blur and we cannot even remember the name, the novel has probably failed. Many factors make a novel a literary classic: depth of content, beauty of language, ingenuity of structure. But one exceptionally important factor—indeed, a necessary condition—is character. Whether characters have been successfully created is a major test of a novel.

Objectively speaking, Chinese novels have shortcomings compared with Western fiction, especially in their less rigorous structures. But in character, Chinese fiction is no less memorable than the West.

Dream of the Red Chamber is still more remarkable. By one count it names more than four hundred people, with many major and minor figures, and it has an extraordinary power to make them memorable. Major characters need no explanation. But even a tiny character who appears in one scene becomes unforgettable as soon as he opens his mouth. Cao Xueqin's supreme gift is to scatter beans and conjure soldiers: with a breath, they live. I often study how he makes them so vivid.

Remember Xing'er, Jia Lian's servant? He appears in only one scene, describing the people of Grand View Garden to Second Sister You. When Miss Lin and Miss Xue appear, he says he scarcely dares breathe. Why? A strong breath might blow Miss Lin over; a warm breath might melt Miss Xue. With this one line, you never forget Lin Daiyu's frailty. And Xue Baochai is snow: one warm breath could melt her. A character speaks and instantly lives.

Why? The dialogue is superb. Every person's speech has individuality, and that is not easy to achieve. Each of the Twelve Beauties of Jinling has a distinct personality and voice—an astonishing feat. Try opening Dream of the Red Chamber to any page of dialogue and covering the speakers' names. From the words alone, you know who is speaking: Grandmother Jia has one tone, Granny Liu another. Every personality emerges. This is difficult.

I sometimes wonder how Cao Xueqin's ears were made. A person without a keen ear cannot become a novelist. If your ear is dull, everyone sounds the same. A great novelist hears someone speak and immediately grasps the distinctive quality. Cao Xueqin was a master of this.

Now to today's subject. The novel contains so many people that we must begin with the principal figures: Jia Baoyu, Lin Daiyu, and Xue Baochai. In Chapter 5, Baoyu dreams of visiting the Land of Illusion, where the fairy Disenchantment has songs performed for him. The songs serve as a prelude to the novel, prophecies and judgments on the characters' fates.

The opening is the prelude to the twelve songs of Dream of the Red Chamber:

At once we know this will be a great tragedy. But “who became the seed of feeling”? That phrase—a creature born for love—is one of the novel's keys. Its foremost creature of feeling is naturally Jia Baoyu, though there are many others.