hey, big fan of your blog! read some of your qianqiu metas, and was thinking lately about the presentation of the statist consolidation of power and framing of political unification as an unproblematic moral good in a lot of the wuxia/xianxia I've engaged with. having grown up with these genres, I know that censorship and sociopolitical circumstances are big influences on the message that gets put out. (1/3)
but also as an anti-authoritarian looking to art and literature for countercultural inspiration, I guess I've found a lot of wuxia lacking in a vision for a radical future. this certainly isn't to say that art needs to be radical to have value, or that wuxia spaces haven't created avenues of self-expression and joy for oppressed groups in an airtight society where there are dire risks attached to political activity. (2/3)
wuxia/xianxia are my favorite genres, but many aspects of its narratives seem to uphold structures of oppression (i.e. ableism, colorism, xenophobia, misogyny, etc). but hey, 嫌货人才是买货人, no such thing as perfect, best thing to do, I suppose, is to engage with art with a critical eye. thanks for your time! (3/3)
an anon after my own heart, hello! you're definitely getting at certain themes, assumptions, and values that in a way were built in to the wuxia genre as it has evolved today. whether you’re reading classic authors like 金庸 Jin Yong or remixers like 梦溪石 Meng Xishi, I’ve definitely noticed that wuxia as a genre has, well, complicated relationships with the structures of oppression that you brought up
(I'm leaving xianxia out of the discussion atm as I’m less familiar with it as a whole, but also I don't think it has the same concerns of nationalism and historicism that wuxia does)
in many ways, the modern wuxia genre is a heavily compensatory genre, which I mean specifically in a “hey, compensating much?” kind of way. it took me a very long time to realize and process this, diaspora kid that I am, but so much of contemporary Chinese culture is still profoundly affected by the events of the past 200-250 years. I mean, when you think about it, the imperial dynastic system wasn’t all that long ago; in many ways, Chinese society is still reeling from the century of humiliation, the breakneck industrialization, the mass deaths of the 20th century in war and famine and revolution and government abuse (there is also the matter of the government deliberately evoking public memory of past atrocities to fan nationalistic sentiment for its convenience, which not only keeps historical national humiliations top-of-mind but also disrupts processes of collective memory and collective grieving).
Stephen Teo, in Chinese Martial Arts Cinema: The Wuxia Tradition, tracks the origins of wuxia as a genre, and from the beginning wuxia has been bound up with anxieties over masculinity and national agency, which in literature can often be one and the same. Teo, in tracing early forerunners of wuxia and the historical context of its emergence, notes that "[i]ntellectuals initially regarded the warrior tradition in the genre as one of the elements that could provide a positive counterweight to China's image as the 'sick man of Asia'" (Teo 37).
Given the repeated incursions and invasions onto Chinese soil and China’s status as a semicolony for much of the 19th and 20th centuries, it’s almost too obvious how the wuxia genre provides a balm for those exact anxieties: the martial warrior tradition (the 武 wu in 武侠 wuxia, if you will) directly addresses fears regarding the emasculation of Chinese men; the historical settings of wuxia novels often set during or against a backdrop of past imperial Chinese glories; the featuring of military triumphs over “foreign barbarians” who sought to invade or occupy imperial land, or even better — the protagonist, raised among the “wolfish barbarians,” is uniquely positioned to combine the “raw, savage strength” of “barbarian” culture with the “cultured civility” of Han Chinese culture; the strong emphasis on tradition(al aesthetics) and traditional Confucian ethics of morality and righteousness as contrast and counterpoint to the rapid modernization and Westernization of 20th/21st century Chinese culture... you get the idea
Teo’s book surveys the wuxia genre over the past century, particularly through film, and he discusses how wuxia in the 21st century begins “to manifest as made-in-China historicist blockbusters mixing the epic form with wuxia" — which is to say, wuxia has increasingly become intertwined with the genres of period dramas and historical epics:
"Having been grafted onto the period epic, wuxia becomes a showcase of Chinese history, seeking to be universally accepted while at the same time locating itself within the historicist confines of the nation-state." (168)
wuxia’s increasing hybridization/conflation with historical epics (particularly in Zhang Yimou’s 2002 film 《英雄》 Hero, John Woo’s 2008 - 2009 《赤壁》 Red Cliff duology) increasingly politicizes the genre, and that politicization thereby links wuxia to national issues of structural oppression, like the ones you mentioned: the statist consolidation of power and framing of political unification as an unproblematic moral good, ableism, colorism, xenophobia, misogyny... any one of these could carry a research paper on their own, and I don’t presume to be able to solve or explain away any of them in a tumblr post, but I do think there are many ways in which the wuxia genre’s (often uncritical) support of structures of oppression are directly linked to the origins of wuxia as a genre that was in many ways wish-fulfillment for a 20th/21st century Chinese culture wracked with political turmoil, economic disaster, and cultural uncertainties
I particularly like Teo’s discussion here:
"...The grand historicist self-fashioning of the genre in a film like Hero and its offshoots Curse of the Golden Flower, The Banquet, The Warlords [...and] Red Cliff demonstrate the kind of nationalistic self-aggrandisement that critics find so disturbing, particularly so when the nature of the regime is authoritarian and autocratic, ever ready to invoke militaristic power as the means to their end of a unitary nation state.
“However, if we see the wuxia genre as a mirror of the nation, it shows China in perpetual crisis, torn apart by internal strife and the urge to cohere as a unitary state." (186)
the framing of political unification as an unproblematic moral good is something I find particularly interesting, because a lot of that has to do with Chinese history. the famous opening line of 《三国演义》 / Romance of the Three Kingdoms references this directly: 天下大势,分久必合,合久必分 / “All great movements under heaven [follow this rule]: that which has fallen apart for a long time must come together, and that which has been together for a long time must fall apart.” The entire cyclical narrative of imperial China has been this: a dynasty rises, a dynasty falls, the land fractures into squabbling kingdoms, out of which a single dynasty eventually rises, to eventually fall, to eventually fracture again. and so, a dynasty’s collapse and the subsequent societal fracturing into warring territories is naturally paired with the crisis and violence that ensues with the fall of a state. simply put, there just isn’t a period of Chinese history (or if there is, I don’t know of it) where political fragmentation has not been associated with civil unrest; therefore political unification must be an unproblematic good as it eliminates domestic warfare and returns order to the central plains. handily, this supports the current regime’s nationalistic and authoritarian agenda, and so we see this particular moral value reflected in much of wuxia fiction
not to simply brush aside ableism, colorism, xenophobia, and misogyny all with a wave of a hand, but I do think that much of this has to do with contemporary Chinese society’s current attitudes towards these issues. when a society privileges pale complexions in its beauty standards (see: the triptych of 白富美, the omnipresence of beauty products that advertise skin tone lightening, the entire entertainment/idol industry), colorism is a natural (and shitty) result. government-spurred nationalism, historical racism, and Han chauvinism all contribute to the rampant xenophobia of much of Chinese media, especially when it comes to depictions of non-Chinese Asia (Central Asia, Japan, SE Asia in particular). when wuxia needs a faceless enemy, it reaches for the barbarians on the border. ableism and misogyny are issues that contemporary Chinese society struggle with now; the issue of ableism in particular feels stifled in the cutthroat nature of the current job market (the flipside of China’s massive labor force is the knowledge that every person is fundamentally replaceable), and the depths to which cultural misogyny runs in China is growing steadily more and more evident as the gender gap widens
and when it comes to fiction, when it comes to literature, widespread change often doesn’t occur until there is a societal call for it. I’m thinking of the U.S. science fiction and fantasy scene, which went through its own reckoning with diversity and genre-reified prejudice over the past decade and a half. and now we have brilliantly diverse authors and searingly postcolonial works, queer characters on the regular, Tor Books itself advertising to us soft sad queer freaks on tumblr. the journey wasn’t easy though, nor is the journey remotely close to over, but the fact remains — there was, in a sense, a collective cultural awakening about the ways in which more classic SF/F often utilized and reified racism, prejudice, misogyny, ableism; and subsequently, there was a conscious effort towards holding the genre(s) and its creators accountable, towards writing and supporting and amplifying voices previously shunned and silenced
and, well, to be fully honest, I don’t think that cultural moment has arrived yet for wuxia. this is not to say that there are no wuxia creators out there trying to decolonize the genre, but that we haven’t reached the turning point where decolonizing the genre and examining its history of misogyny, xenophobia, ableism, and colorism is expected, accepted, even celebrated, and I don’t think we’ll get there until contemporary Chinese society goes through a cultural reckoning with these same issues
I also think it’s worth mentioning that whatever that collective cultural awakening/reckoning looks like, it must be and will be distinctively Chinese. Chinese culture maintains different moral values from Western (Euroamerican) culture; contemporary China faces different social issues and political problems than contemporary Euroamerica. whatever this journey looks like, I don’t think it will look like or should look the same as what the U.S. went through/is going through. decolonizing/deimperializing East Asia is inherently different from decolonizing/deimperializing the West, so I would like to stop short of making prescriptive statements on what that cultural turning point should look like
that being said: if anyone’s run into some good postcolonial wuxia lately, I’d be VERY interested to hear more about it
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hunxi’s danmei awards 2.0! (aka 2022 edition)
Featuring the return of some categories such as:
Best Worldbuilding
Best Interrogation of Themes (aka the “Rent-Free Award”)
Best Moment That Wrecked Me (aka the Knifiest Award)
Best Beleaguered Side Character Award
Best Unreliable Narrator
As well as never-before-seen categories like:
Best Himbo
Most Brilliant Moment of Backstabbery
Most Ambitious Scope
Most Heartwrenching Line Delivery in an Audiodrama
…and more!
This year’s candidates in the running:
《小蘑菇》 Xiao Mo Gu by 一十四洲 Yi Shi Si Zhou
《不小心救了江湖公敌》 Bu Xiao Xin Jiule Jianghu Gong Di by 六木乔 Liu Muqiao (有声漫画 audiomanhua season 1)
《无双》 Wu Shuang by 梦溪石 Meng Xishi
《问鹿三千》 Wen Lu San Qian by 光合积木 Voicegem, 吼浪文化 Houlang Studio, and 斗木獬编剧工作室 Doumuxie Screenwriting Studio
《师弟还不杀我灭口》 Shidi Hai Bu Sha Wo Mie Kou by 子鹿 Zi Lu
《默读》 Mo Du by priest
《督主有病》 Du Zhu You Bing by 杨溯 Yang Su
《海中爵》 Hai Zhong Jue by 七药 Qi Yao
《哏儿》 Gen’er by 南北逐风 Nan Bei Zhu Feng
《杀破狼》 Sha Po Lang by priest
《金牌助理之弯弯没想到》 Jin Pai Zhu Li zhi Wan Wan Mei Xiang Dao by (nominally) 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang and (mostly) 传奇火箭队 The Legendary Rocket Team
(unmarked spoilers, including but not limited to these titles, under the cut. for introductions of these titles, click here. for last year’s danmei awards, click here)
Best Worldbuilding
Winner: 《杀破狼》 Sha Po Lang by priest
This award goes to 《杀破狼》 Sha Po Lang for the effortless ease with which p大 manages to merge the genres of imperial intrigue, steampunk mecha, alternate history, and wuxia elements. Over the course of the novel, priest explores how the development of 紫流金-based technology leads the fictional Liang Dynasty into industrial revolution, and doesn’t hesitate to include all the negative consequences of early industrialization. So you’ve rolled out mechanical alternatives for farming? Have fun dealing with the uprisings of unemployed farmers while fending off international threats on your borders. So you want to roll out paper currency/government bonds to stimulate your war-torn economy? Good luck even getting people to trust the validity of paper the way they trust the hardness of coin. In a way, 《杀破狼》 Sha Po Lang carries on the tradition set down in priest’s earlier novel 《七爷》 Qi Ye of protagonists using decidedly underhanded methods to effect the change they wish to see in the world, and the morality thereof remains just as thorny in 《杀破狼》. what would you do in the name of peace? how much of yourself can you give away before you are no longer the same person?
oh and I have to give a shout-out to the trains in this book, I’d give this award to 《杀破狼》 Sha Po Lang for its (re-)invention of trains alone
Best Interrogation of Themes (aka the “Rent-Free Award”)
Winner: 《小蘑菇》 Xiao Mo Gu by 一十四洲 Yi Shi Si Zhou
I listened to 《小蘑菇》 Xiao Mo Gu via audiodrama before I read the novel, and every time I finished an episode I would have to just sit for a few hours, processing. Despite its seemingly lighthearted premise, 《小蘑菇》 Xiao Mo Gu shows us an apocalypse in all its cruel magnificence. The oppressive atmosphere of unending martial law, the seductive proximity of despair, the omnipresence and unpredictability of death, the utter lack of justice or closure or meaning in a world slowly grinding to a halt, the vast, inhuman lengths civilization will go to in the name of survival... to this day, 《小蘑菇》 Xiao Mo Gu haunts the solemnity of my early mornings with questions like what would you condone to survive? and wherein lies the locus of meaning when everything it means to be human has been stripped away? and like. I haven’t been the same since my mushroom phase, okay
Best Beleaguered Side Character Award
Winner: Ji Bolan from 《小蘑菇》 Xiao Mo Gu by 一十四洲 Yi Shi Si Zhou
This poor man had to deal with his childhood friend growing up to be a governmentally-licensed and universally-reviled mass murderer, the complete breakdown of the laws of physics, and witnessing Lu Feng and An Zhe flirt in front of his salad soup, all during the apocalypse that he is frantically trying to solve. Frankly, he’s allowed to roast Lu Feng as much as he wants, and the fact that he’s voiced by the same person who did AD!Jiang Cheng and AD!Xiao Zheng (winner of last year’s Best Beleaguered Side Character Award) is 1) extremely funny, 2) very on-brand, and 3) further proof that being in voice actor fandom 其乐无穷
Best Moment That Wrecked Me (aka the Knifiest Award)
Winner: 《默读》 Mo Du by priest
The character of Fei Du in priest’s 《默读》 is easily the character who had me clawing at the walls the most for the better part of this year (I’m still clawing at the walls, if we’re being honest). I am in love with everything about the way priest wrote him; from his introduction as the flamboyantly aggravating playboy chasing after Tao Ran (brilliant character work there as well as brilliant comedy, 感谢陶然不弯之恩 etc etc) to the slow, methodical reveal of his backstory and how deeply, deeply traumatized he is, Fei Du is one of the most complex and intelligent and nuanced and terribly lovable meow meows characters I’ve had the good fortune to run into
To pick a single Fei Du moment? A single one? Well if I have to choose, unfortunately it’s going to have to be chapter 180 朗诵(五) for the simple reason that it hurts me:
他恨不能撕裂时空,大步闯入七年前,一把抱起那个沉默的孩子,双手捧起他从不流露的伤痕,对他说一句“对不起,我来晚了”。
[Luo Wenzhou] wished he could tear apart time, to barge back into that moment seven years ago and pick up that silent child, to cradle those hidden wounds and say to him, “I’m sorry I was late.”
“我来晚了……”
“I was late...”
直到上了救护车,费渡才好像是有了点意识,难以聚焦的目光在骆闻舟脸上停留了许久,大概是认出了他,竟露出了一个微笑。
Fei Du only seemed to recover a semblance of consciousness when they loaded him into the ambulance. His eyes, unfocused, stopped on Luo Wenzhou’s face for a while before smiling slightly.
骆闻舟艰难地看懂了他无声的唇语。
Luo Wenzhou read his words in the soundless shape of his lips with difficulty.
他说:“没有了……怪物都清理干净了,我是最后一个,你可不可以把我关在你家?”
He said, “They’re all gone... All the monsters are taken care of, I’m the last one. Can you lock me up in your house?”
I’m just. if you need me I’ll be screaming about sunflowers in the abyss
Best Unreliable Narrator
Winner: Yan Zhuoqing and the Deer God of 《问鹿三千》 Wen Lu San Qian by 光合积木 Voicegem, 吼浪文化 Houlang Studio, and 斗木獬编剧工作室 Doumuxie Screenwriting Studio
surprising shortage of unreliable narrators in this year’s contenders, but 《问鹿三千》 makes up for it by having not one, but TWO unreliable narrators involved. can you believe that BOTH of these semi-immortal dumbasses have amnesia? smh Deer God you’re literally the god of time and memory, how you’ve even gotten this far I’ve got no idea
honorable mention: Fei Du from 《默读》 by priest. this man had the audacity to say the words “我没有创伤” / “I’m not traumatized” after asking for Luo Wenzhou’s assistance in recovering some of his repressed memories that he’d blocked out because of the — you guessed it — trauma
Best Himbo
Winner: Situ Jin from 《督主有病》 Du Zhu You Bing by 杨溯 Yang Su
I think it’s safe to say that Situ Jin is a Very Good Egg With No Braincells Whatsoever. None. This man had to be bullied into a hurt/comfort scenario by his future wife, and when she came to him for comfort, grieving her father’s death, he responded to her “now I’m all alone” with “don’t cry: you’re one, I’m one, together we’re two.” proud of u for basic math, bro, but is now really the time. his other highlights include: thinking dreamily about his wife while in prison, defending innocent bystanders regardless the personal cost, and continually failing to seek medical attention while bleeding out
Side Character I’m Still Mad About (aka the Gongyi Xiao Award)
Winner: Fu Luo from 《海中爵》 Hai Zhong Jue by 七药 Qi Yao
so it turns out that I am Weak for this very specific kind of character, the one who is a Good Kid, the one who tries their best to be responsible and reasonable, the one who could honestly be a protagonist in another novel. double points if you can trust them with a spreadsheet (Bian Yanmei), triple points if they’re delightfully lowkey devoted to the actual protagonist (can I get a wahoo for the Jiangzuo Alliance in here??)
and you know what the author does? murders them with prejudice
tl;dr I’m still not over Fu Luo, because like oh man that scene was well done but also ouch
"most memeworthy/meme-able"
(this one’s for you, @presumenothing)
Winner: 《督主有病》 Du Zhu You Bing by 杨溯 Yang Su
I mean I literally—
this book is a Very Serious and Somewhat Grimdark book, but I have to say the sheer amount of misunderstandings that occur are comical in their quantity. have you ever met two people more in love with each other and less capable of uttering a single sentence about it, it is only by the grace of the author that these two didn’t murder each other before their happy ending at the many given opportunities throughout the book
"most deserving of a shenshen OST"
(this one’s also for you, @presumenothing, ty for all the brilliant category recs)
Winner: ........?
this is such an interesting award category to consider, because it’s like asking “which one of these texts would you like to hand a steak knife to gut you with,” but it also begs the question of what a shenshen OST would bring to the text that the existing music/adaptation doesn’t. it also raises the question of what kind of narrative (grand, sweeping, vast in scale or minute, gentle, heartbreaking?) would be most compatible with a shenshen OST?
my first thought was 《小蘑菇》 Xiao Mo Gu, since it has both the monumental scope and the fragile, breakable heart that shenshen OST’s are so suited for (他只是一个小蘑菇 goodbYE—), but the music of the 《小蘑菇》 Xiao Mo Gu AD is already so perfect I don’t actually want to add anything to it. my next thought would be 《问鹿三千》 Wen Lu San Qian — again, for that blend of scale and sorrow, wistfulness at what can never be and gratitude for what we have. but 《问鹿》 also has five songs already, and while a shenshen OST would be nice, it most certainly isn’t necessary
so I think I’m going to cheat and give this award to a title that isn’t even on the list of candidates this year, one that already has a shenshen OST: 《天宝伏妖录》 Tian Bao Fu Yao Lu by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang, which has the great fortune to have Zhou Shen’s 《天地为念》 for its ongoing donghua title song. what a beautiful, meditative song; what an ethereal, gently sorrowful melody. extra brownie points because I maintain that Zhou Shen and 锦鲤 Jin Li (the voice of Kong Hongjun) are counterparts of each other in their respective industries, and also because I’m ride or die for both of them
"most untranslatable ever"
(category shout-out to — you guessed it — @presumenothing)
Winner: oh ABSOLUTELY 《金牌助理之弯弯没想到》 Jin Pai Zhu Li zhi Wan Wan Mei Xiang Dao by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang and 传奇火箭队 The Legendary Rocket Team
I consider myself fairly proficient in audiodramas on 猫耳FM as a medium/genre now; I’m familiar with the ways script adaptation dovetails with post-production, the roles the voice directors and producers and casts play, the different twists that can happen with 报幕, what names to keep an eye out for while checking out the production team... so when I say that this audiodrama knocked me flat on the ass when I first listened to it, I really do mean that I was in no way prepared for the chaos that was to come. where do I even begin to describe it? the speed? the unhinged energy? the unending 吐槽 / roasts? the brilliant comedic pacing? the extremely 洗脑 片尾曲?whatever the hell this is?
this audiodrama is not only the most untranslatable ever due to the high concentration of internet and culture-specific slang, but also apparently the most impossible to explain ever. idk. listen to this AD and lose your mind
Most Brilliant Moment of Backstabbery
Winner: ch. 116 of 《无双》 Wu Shuang by 梦溪石 Meng Xishi
I described 《无双》 Wu Shuang as “a book about roasting your rival first, saving your dynasty second,” but perhaps didn’t do justice to the sheer lengths these two will go to one-up each other. I’d like to take this moment to recognize a certain flamboyant demonic sect leader (that is somehow not Yan Wushi) for not just habitually backstabbing (gently, for funsies) his love interest but also getting some frontstabbery (once, with great intention) in as well. truly, no one out here is doing it like Feng Xiao
honorable mention: 《不小心救了江湖公敌》 Bu Xiao Xin Jiule Jianghu Gong Di by 六木乔 Liu Muqiao, for the sheer quantity of backstabbing that occurs. maybe this is simply what happens when all of your characters are professional evildoers at fluctuating levels of retirement
Best Comfort Media
Winner: 《哏儿》 Gen’er by 南北逐风 Nan Bei Zhu Feng
earlier this year, I went around asking various people: what makes a book, movie, or other text comfort media for you? listening to the answers, it occurred to me that I don’t really have texts that I turn to on a semi-regular basis to re-read or re-watch. especially because my favorite books tend to be the ones that rip my heart out through my throat, the idea of choosing a “comfort read” from among them seems somewhat, er, misguided
and then I ran into 《哏儿》 Gen’er, which is the only text I’ve chosen to carry over from last year’s danmei awards because the second season of the AD aired this year. this webnovel/AD is also, genre-wise, the outlier in this year’s awards — no magic, no speculative elements, not a single sword in sight, just slice-of-life, daily trials and tribulations, characters balancing budgets and bantering backstage and discussing art over hotpot. the cast and characters of 《哏儿》 feel real and lived-in in a way that is so deeply precious to me; at times throughout the year, I would simply cue up the beginning of S2E2 to listen to the first fifteen minutes or so to quiet down. the ongoing discussions threaded throughout the narrative about the roles of traditional culture and art in modern society, how to adapt traditional forms to contemporary values and preferences, and the ever-relevant question of how to get other people to care about things you love... 《哏儿》 hits different, hits real close to home, asks thought-provoking questions in a gentle, lighthearted manner in a way that is totally unique among the danmei works I’ve read, so here I am, conferring this new, foreign honor upon it. it’s a first for both of us!
Most Ambitious Scope
Winner: 《问鹿三千》 Wen Lu San Qian by 光合积木 Voicegem, 吼浪文化 Houlang Studio, and 斗木獬编剧工作室 Doumuxie Screenwriting Studio
I know, I know — very bold of me to give this award to an audiodrama that’s still airing, that we don’t know if it’ll ever be completed, but I still have to take a moment to yell about this completely original episodic gufeng AD, because like... wow. there is no answer key; there is no original work; there is no blueprint to work off of, no pre-existing fanbase of readers to appeal to. this entire project with its xuanhuan scope will succeed or fail based on its merits alone, and what scope it has, too — from the five voice actor songs (I guess everyone in 光合积木 can sing too??? sure that’s fine I guess) to penning scripts that play specifically to the voice actors’ strengths, to engaging with thorny dynamics of family and relationship and devotion and misalignment, I think it’s real gutsy of the 《问鹿》 creative team to embark on such a vast and ambitious project, and carry it off as well as they did. now it’s just 乖巧坐等更新.jpeg hours, fingers crossed they come back for a season 2
Best Work I Was Songbaited Into
Winner: 《小蘑菇》 Xiao Mo Gu by 一十四洲 Yi Shi Si Zhou
Definitely the first thing that even put 《小蘑菇》 Xiao Mo Gu on my radar was 奇然’s 《风过荒野》 appearing in my YouTube algorithm. The song’s arrangement is haunting, lyrical, and so unlike any other AD song I’ve ever heard. The second season’s 《极光入夜》 is also transcendent in lyrics, composition, and the fact that both of the main voice actors can sing 哎呦还让人活吗—and don’t even get me started on the beautiful piano and string covers they work into the soundtrack! 声罗万象请受我一拜!
let’s put it this way: I actually went out of my way to translate the 《小蘑菇》 songs (here and here) for how hard they go. one day I’ll get over the lines “玫瑰静默凋谢” and “审判是我于你的吻别” but today will not be that day
honorable mention: 《督主有病》 Du Zhu You Bing by 杨溯 Yang Su, for having the opposite energy of the 《默读》 AD asdlfskdfjs no less than FIVE original songs composed for a THREE season AD. I was on the fence about listening to this AD until I heard 远皓ZIL’s 《燃灯》, which immediately joined my playlist before I’d even read the book. Again, the lyricism, the arrangement, the melancholy, deeply thoughtful atmosphere of the song got me interested in exactly what kind of maddeningly angsty plot could result in these lyrics:
我愿抚拂前尘 燃着灯 做你归途的引 / I would brush away the dust of our past and light a lamp, and be what guides you back
只求你破迷津 渡极乐 回首看我在等 / I only pray that you break free from the labyrinth and deliver paradise, to look back and see me waiting
我匍匐入尘埃 叩长阶 奉上所有虔诚 / I crawl through the dirt, pressing my forehead to the stone steps of the long stairway, offering up all of my piety
只为听你亲将 相思说 那纸情书太薄 / just to hear you say, yearning for me, that this love letter is too thin
不载残生颠簸 无你我 苦不可脱 / it cannot carry what’s left of our tumultuous lives — without you or me, life would be bitter with no escape
Audiodrama Adaptation with the Strongest First Episode
Winner: 《督主有病》 Du Zhu You Bing by 杨溯 Yang Su
Adaptation is a delicate and tricky practice; how do you accommodate for the limits of production, the requirements of medium, when it comes to translating a work across dimensions? And particularly when it comes to AD’s, how can you capture a listener’s attention within the first few episodes, to bait them into the story and make them willing to pay money to unlock what happens next?
this award has to go to 珞玉 Luo Yu and 子穆木 Zi Mumu for their adaptation of 杨溯 Yang Su’s novel 《督主有病》 Du Zhu You Bing. The book itself runs chronologically, from the two main characters first meeting each other as children, the months they spend together, their sudden (and deeply traumatic) parting, and then resumes the narrative the next time they meet each other seven years down the line, attempting to kill each other (in their defense, it was dark, and neither of them were sure if the other survived the massacre that separated them in the first place). Episode 1 “故人来” of the AD begins with that reunion as Shen Jue, disposing of a body, finds an injured assassin just outside the palace walls. They grapple in the dark until they recognize each other, and the way post-production editing fills in their backstory through a quick, tantalizing flashback and brings the listener back out of it by overlapping young!Xiahou Lian and present!Xiahou Lian saying the same lines (“shaoye, remember: don’t look back, don’t say anything—”)... well done, well played, I sure paid money to listen to the rest of this AD
Audiodrama Adaptation with the Strongest First Ten Minutes
Winner: 《海中爵》 Hai Zhong Jue by 七药 Qi Yao
haha I think I’m hilarious, but while 《督主》 has the strongest first episode I would also like to shout out how good the first ten minutes of 《海中爵》 Hai Zhong Jue are. seamless transition from baby Hailian to adult Hailian, from quiet lullaby to sea battle, and establishing Hailian’s sass, competence, kindness, and swashbuckling swagger as well as introducing Fang Tinglan (and his shamelessness asldfksj). credit has to go to the director 齐杰, the scriptwriter 虾仁猪心@一梦还江月, and the post-production editor 时柒@丶为之奈何 for pacing the opening scene so well, and an extra special shout-out to 梅梅 (韬韬你是最棒的) for the funniest little “bye~~~” as he throws someone off a boat
Most Heartwrenching Line Delivery in an Audiodrama (aka the Knifiest Award, audio edition)
Winner: S1E7 of the 《默读》Mo Du audiodrama
I can yell for years about how talented voice actors are, but there are specific moments while listening where I have to pause for a second or ten and silently mouth “damn”
杨天翔 Yang Tianxiang’s performance as Fei Du in season 1, episode 7 of the 《默读》 Mo Du audiodrama knocks it out of the goddamn solar system with the plaza broadcast scene — this was a scene that I was pretty eh on in the novel, but after listening to it in the AD... 当! 场! 封! 神! with Yang Tianxiang’s measured delivery, the slow excavation of the depth of Fei Du’s anguish, the forced steadiness of his voice when he says “你们如果都这么狠心,为什么以前还要表现出好像很在乎我们的样子?” / “If all of you were always this cruel, why did you pretend to care about us so much in the beginning?” underlaid by the devastatingly quiet, melancholy piano backing of 《以沫》 that then kicks into the sequence that culminates in 何忠义 He Zhongyi’s “等我回来!” / “Wait for me to come home!”... (silently screams into a paper bag) I’m not okay and I haven’t been okay for months
Honorable Mentions:
S2E2 “也恨相逢” of 《督主有病》 Du Zhu You Bing by 杨溯 Yang Su: specifically for 梅梅’s line “少爷,这是我的命” / “shaoye, this is my fate.” for a scene that didn’t even exist in the original novel... hot damn wow
E12 “绝不复寡“ of 《师弟还不杀我灭口》 Shidi Hai Bu Sha Wo Mie Kou by 子鹿 Zi Lu: 锦鲤 has the range and this AD proves it! While he spends most of the AD being generally the comedic, satirical commentary, Zhong Yan/Qin Mingxi absolutely begging, tears in his voice, for Gu Xuanyan to leave him to die in this scene? look I’m not immune to this trope either
S1E13·上 of 《问鹿三千》 Wen Lu San Qian by 光合积木 Voicegem, 吼浪文化 Houlang Studio, and 斗木獬编剧工作室 Doumuxie Screenwriting Studio: (cups hands around mouth, yells) 马! 老! 师! it’s hard to explain the heartbreaking context of the line I have in mind without giving away the entire story, but 马正阳’s throat-scraping scream of “我要你爱我” / “I want you to love me!” is wince-inducing from the sheer force of the raw anguish in it
wooooo and that’s a wrap! thanks for tuning into the 2022 danmei awards :)
looking forward at my reading list, I’m not sure I’ll be doing a 2023 round since my reading is taking me in different directions and I simply might not have enough candidates to fill out a whole awards post next year (and I suspect I’ll have gone so far off the map that people won’t even have the faintest idea what I’m talking about anymore asldkfajsd)
it’s been fun!!! catch you all in the new year!!
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