John BlofeldCity of Lingering Splendor: A Frank Account of Old Peking's Exotic Pleasures

How evocative the title is. The revolution of 1911 had toppled the last dynasty, yet this revolution was nothing like the 1917 catastrophe that wiped away almost all traces of traditional Russia. In Peking, the sights, sounds, and tastes of traditional China still lingered in the 1930s, when the young Blofeld arrived in what he considered to be his spiritual homeland. One almost expected to catch a glimpse of the last Empress gliding through her courts. Blofeld introduces us to a colorful cast of characters including traditional scholar-officials, "flower girls" and Taoist adepts. How soon it would all be swept away by war and further revolution.It must be said that Blofeld, in his enthusiasm for traditional pleasures of the capital city, chooses not to inquire too deeply into the desperation of the masses, which set the stage for the coming apocalypse. Still, if you are willing to let Blofeld lead you, his "City" is a pleasure that will long linger in your own mind. Pour yourself a cup of hot tea and enjoy it.

I had no idea when I picked up this book that I had such a pleasant experience in store for me. Beginning in 1934, a young man in his twenties spends "three exquisitely happy years" in a China at the edge of the abyss. Japan had already invaded Manchuria and made no secrets of its intentions of further conquest. The shaky Chinese Republic was ruled out of Nanking; and Peking was still full of memories of the old Dowager Empress, the last of her line.The streets of Peking were full of Confucian scholars, aging palace eunuchs, adepts of Taoism and Buddhism, starving White Russian refugees, 14-year-old opium addicts, and gentle courtesans and flute girls. Blofeld threw himself headfirst into this world which was on the point of being snuffed out forever. Most memorable are the White Russian hermaphrodite Shura and the Rasputin-like Father Vassily; the decorous Buddhist scholar Dr Chang; Yang Taoshih, the Taoist sage, and his friend known only as the Peach Garden Hermit; the lovely courtesan Jade Flute; and the mysterious Pao, who elopes with a young girl intended for a Japanese colonel.After Blofeld leaves for a trip to England, the Japanese finally invade. There are two bittersweet chapters at the end where Blofeld revisits the scenes of his youth after 1945. His fragile Peking of the 1930s is now poised between a growingly thuggish Kuomintang secret police and the great unknown of Mao Tse-tung's Eighth Route Army.Blofeld's Dr Chang says it all: "Decay is inherent in all things, as Shakyamuni Buddha bade us always remember. Death swallows all that has been born; rebirth or re-creation follow in their turn, as spring follows winter. Things rise and wane in unceasing flux."CITY OF LINGERING SPLENDOUR is recommended to all sentient beings who were ever young once and are now faced with a confused welter of possibilities, none of which seem particularly appetizing.

I don't think it is possible to go wrong with a book by John Blofeld.For those of us who long for another time, he is the perfect guide.No one I have read is more capable of conveying the mood he isexperiencing and transporting you there. In the 1930's there stillexisted Taoist monasteries and lone wizards. He sought these out andrelates the lore around them along with examples that make you wonderif they had true magic. But even in relating his everyday life, youare still taken under his spell. City of Lingering Splendour is of thelast few years before the Japanese invaded and started the end of thismagical era; later finished off by World War 2 and the Communist revolution.His writing is like finding a lost isolated world, a treasure from before therewere such awful concepts. I also highly recommend his books on Taoism. Thereis nothing dry about them- all convey his charm and cast a spell.

If the name John Blofeld means anything to you, you've probably been consulting the I Ching. Blofeld wrote a popular translation to the Chinese oracle at a time when the only other version available in English was Richard Wilhelm's groundbreaking but somewhat turgid text. "City of Lingering Splendor" is an autobiographical travelogue, one of the best ever written. Dedicated to ' the hermits, scholars, youths and courtesans who inspired these pages ' it's a love letter to Peking and the breathtaking greatness of an ancient civilisation at its twilight, about to be extinguished.While remote jungles still offer anthropologists the chance to chew the fat with stone age peoples, the romantics among us are simply out of luck. Until someone invents a working time machine, Ancient Egypt is gone forever along with Homer's Greece and Imperial Rome.But in 1934 it was still possible to travel back in time. Back to Old China, to a culture that had remained virtually untouched for thousands of years---and chew Peking Duck with Taoist sages. . .Wonderful reading.

This is the most sensitive, respectful and intelligent book I have read on traditional Chinese culture. The writing is terrific, on a par with Peter Fleming's, though more from the heart.It records the author's love affair with the city before WW2 (and includes a return to Beijing after it). While meeting many of its remaining Daoist, Confucianist, Bhuddist and literary leaders and exploring its temples, nightlife and food, we get a last sympathetic, philosophical, tragic glimpse of the splendour decaying under the Republic. Before it vanished under the Maoists.If you thought there was little more to pre-War China than footbinding, Dowager Empresses, opium and Shanghain greed and degeneracy, this book will even the score a little.

Glad to have received thisA unique and interesting read of old Peking