I've seen "The Water Margin" described as the Chinese Robin Hood, in that its heroes fight for justice by departing from the ordinary tenets of law and order, gathering in a special hideout (Liangshan Marsh in this case) and making forays into the local villages to rescue those unjustly accused of crimes. The comparison isn't perfect, of course; no comparison is. The heroes of Liangshan Marsh, in the northeastern coastal Shandong Province of China, do not steal from the rich and give to the poor, although they do provide sanctuary for the unjustly accused and their families. They have no single leader, although as time goes by the figure Song Jiang (a real-life person) does most of the planning and gives most of the orders. There's no Prince John, no Sheriff Of Nottingham (although the Prime Minister is ultimately responsible for most of the corruption – from offstage), and perhaps most noticeable of all, no Maid Marian. Despite all this, the comparison to Robin Hood is probably about as accurate as it needs to be, if you have to compare Chinese literature to something more familiar.
Unlike other classic Chinese literature, though, this book's language is vernacular rather than classical Chinese. In translation, this appears when various characters call each other "you prick!" or similar things, or when someone says something threatening and his opponent says the threat is like "a fart in the wind". You get the idea. The earliest complete form we have came out in the late 1500s, some 400 years after after the historical events upon which it is (loosely) based.
Also unlike most other classic Chinese literature, the heroes of Liangshan Marsh (generally referred to as "brigands" because of their various brushes with the law) have no apparent loyalty to the government as it exists in their time. They frequently claim that they are fulfilling the will of Heaven – so convincingly that many a public official and military leader they meet decides to join them with remarkably little persuasion – but several of them get arrested for things like writing rebellious-sounding poetry on inn walls, and those that don't go that far spend a lot of time cursing at provincial governors, Prime Ministers, and even the Emperor upon occasion. Despite this, it develops under Song Jiang that their ultimate goal is to secure an imperial pardon and join the regular army.
Which brings us to the question of how these several hundred men find their way to Liangshan Marsh in the first place. That question, as you might guess, also goes to the structure of "The Water Margin". For about its first half, the work consists of several individual stories, each of which deals with one or more of the Marsh brigands before they get there. Some are minor legal officials, others are servants of great households, rather a lot of them are giant-sized thugs who can't seem to control their tempers. They all get into trouble, because they resist the corruption they see around them, more or less murderously. As friends put them in touch with people who can help, they travel to the Marsh, and no matter how the imperial forces try to arrest them, they get larger and larger, not to mention more and more unbeatable. And thus, as in other cultures to this day, the outlaws become the heroes.
As in many similar works that I've read, the stories get a bit repetitive, both before and after the group of brigands takes shape. Someone gets arrested and imprisoned, and friends bring food and money for bribes for the prisoner, bribes being so much expected in this culture that the prison warden gets very upset if they are not forthcoming. Similar bribes frequently operate to prevent a death penalty, although there are bribes on the other side as well, from the prisoner's enemies. Once in a while the death penalty is pronounced, at which point the Liangshan Marsh brigands effect a rescue – at other times the prisoner is branded and exiled, at which point the Liangshan Marsh brigands effect a rescue of a different sort. The prisoner, therefore, if he wasn't already one of the brigands, joins up with them. So it's easy to see that the brigands are referred to as criminals – they are, officially, but in truth they're nothing of the sort. I gather that this opposition to the official government word was quite shocking to Chinese culture at the time, which makes "The Water Margin" a truly revolutionary document and may help explain why it has been so popular over the centuries.
So, in some respects a pretty repetitive story. On the other hand, in addition to the stories of rescue, we read stories of battle against corrupt cities, stories of mystical gifts (one brigand has a set of magical footwear that allows him to travel enormous distances within a few hours, another receives a set of divine books from a ghost on the subject of waging war, and so on), stories of how the earthiest type of fighter fools entire monasteries – in short, enough variety of tale to keep one's interest.
To the Western reader, most of this material seems no less than enjoyably familiar, with the exception of a few details. A startling number of these people are not only prepared for, but anticipate with eagerness, the opportunity to eat dead men and women (such cannibalism was actually fairly common at various times in China, if memory serves). Despite the constant talk of virtue and honor, almost all the wives we see take lovers with whom they betray their husbands to the law, although they get caught so often you'd think other wives would avoid that trick. And as I said, when government officials and army generals go down to defeat at the brigands' hands (and sometimes before that happens), it only takes about five or ten minutes of discussions before they change sides, particularly when the brigands promise (as they inevitably do) to go transport the prospect's family to Liangshan Marsh. Of course, the prospect quickly sees that the brigands are honorable men, fighting for the right, so it makes perfect sense in context. Nevertheless, by modern standards, the rapidity of the turnover makes much of "The Water Margin" seem unreal. Which, of course, it is. More modern literature just isn't usually quite that upfront about it.
In short, unlike some of the world's more respectable classic literature, "The Water Margin" is fun.
Benshlomo says, Classical literature (or classical anything) generally survives if people enjoy it – if not, not.
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