Lý Toét in the the City: Coming to Terms with the Modern in 1930s Vietnam – Part 2
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GEORGE DUTTON
… be continued …
Phong Hóa
To better situate Lý Toét as both character and caricature, let me first provide some brief background on Phong Hóa. First appearing in Hà Nội in 1932, this journal achieved prominence soon thereafter when it was taken over by Nguyễn Tường Tam, better known by his nom de plume of Nhất Linh. Part of the explosion of quốc ngữ publications that took place in the 1930s, Phong Hóa was published weekly for the next four years, putting out its final issue in June of 1936.8 By July 1933, the paper already reported a weekly circulation topping ten thousand, attesting to an enormous popularity that derived in part from its entertaining and innovative format and its content.9
The pages of Phong Hóa reflected the dynamic urban environment that fueled its readership, combining items of current news with fashion advice, humor, illustration, and literature in the form of serialized short stories and novels. It also introduced such novelties as crossword puzzles (see Figure 1), connect-the-dot games, and color-by-number pictures that revealed bidden images.10 This text and imagery was bracketed by advertisements that themselves reflected the panoply of new products and commercial services becoming increasingly available to and affordable for the growing urban middle class. Everything from the latest European-style clothing to cigarettes, patent medicines, cars, and travel services were juxtaposed with the literature and illustrations of the week. Thus the very “modern” content of the journal was explicitly linked to the modernization that was inherent in the products and sendees being offered for sale.
Phong Hóa and Ngày Nay (established in 1935) reflected a desire both to provide an outlet for the literary efforts of its editor and core of writers and illustrators and to serve as a response to the long-established collaborationist journal, Nam Phong [Wind from the South].11 Edited by the Francophile neotraditionalist Phạm Quỳnh, Nam Phong (1917-1934) represented a strain of neo-Confucianism that tried to apply the politically and socially conservative elements of that ideology to the rapidly changing Vietnamese society of the 1920s and 1930s.12 Nam Phong‘s apparently paradoxical support of the modern while promoting what many saw as a Confucianist past drew fire from Phong Hóa‘s editors, who sought repeatedly to demonstrate that Confucianism was not in keeping with the changing times.13 When the long-running Nam Phong finally ceased publication in 1934, Phong Hóa‘s editors gleefully wrote its obituary.
Lý Toét and Caricature
Lý Toét first appeared in the pages of Phong Hóa on May 26,1933, when we find him peering at a rectangular and round-topped street-side water spigot, marveling at such a strange funerary stele (see Figure 2).14
Although this was the first time that the umbrella-toting village notable was identified by name, the caricatured figure had already become a regular feature in the journal, albeit under a different name.15 This archetypal character was not the product of a single individual but a common form employed by a variety of illustrators. Indeed, Phong Hóa periodically invited its readers to submit Lý Toét illustrations and jokes, and those that were published netted their creators a byline for their contribution, as well as occasionally a prize of some kind.16 Thus, the Lý Toét character might be regarded in some sense as reflecting a certain popular mentalite. He was an expression not of the narrow vision of a single social commentator but rather of the feelings, fears, and hopes of a wider cross-section of the literate Vietnamese public.
Although numerous illustrators rendered Lý Toét for Phong Hóa, this diversity of artists is not always readily apparent. However much the contributors’ general styles differed, Lý Toét and his distinguishing features had to be depicted in similar and readily recognizable forms. As a 1933 solicitation for Lý Toét cartoons reminded potential contributors: “[A]s for all of Lý Toét’s particular characteristics, these you are already acquainted with.”17 Thus, he was always shown with the cap, long tunic, and trousers favored by village gentlemen. He was never without an umbrella —usually, though not always, black—which functioned as a marker of his village status, even as it identified him as an outsider to the sophisticated urban scene. He sported a whiskered face, sometimes more and sometimes less well groomed. In this way he was instantly recognizable, whether directly identified in the caption or not.
Lý Toét was emblematic of a new phenomenon in Vietnamese journalism, that of the caricature. The introduction of caricature to the pages of Phong Hóa and the eventual appearance of Lý Toét was, in all likelihood, a product of Nhất Linh’s study in France during the late 1920s and early 1930s. During this time Nhất Linh was exposed to the French tradition of caricature which had, particularly since the French Revolution, served as a vehicle for biting social and political commentary. Nhất Linh appears to have been influenced in particular by the newly established (1915) journal Le Canard Enchaine [The Chained Duck], which was famous for its use of caricature to comment on a range of current events.18 While the French tradition of caricature was highly political, however, and while some cartoons in Phong Hóa did offer satirical commentary on political figures of the day, the Lý Toét cartoons themselves eschewed overtly political commentary, opting instead for social and cultural critique. This reflected both Lý Toét’s particular capacity as an icon of cultural clashes and the fact that Vietnamese language newspapers, especially in the north, were subject to heavy censorship, making political commentary in any form a risky proposition at best.19
The tradition of caricature, transplanted in Vietnam by Nhất Linh and possibly others, found fertile soil for a number of reasons. First was its novelty, particularly within the context of the world of the Vietnamese print media, which introduced many elements taken from Western newspapers. Second was its humor, occasionally political, but more often a satirical reflection on the society and culture in which readers lived. Soon after the introduction of caricature, as Marr has noted: “[C]artoonists were using this new medium to considerable critical and satirical effect. Good cartoons sometimes went on the front page, undoubtedly helping to sell papers. Cartoonists developed visual stereotypes to represent the French official, the Vietnamese mandarin, the village headman [i.e., Lý Toét], the Westernized young woman, the exploited peasant, and many more.”20 Indeed, Lý Toét as a figure of caricature fit perfectly within the pages of Phong Hóa, which from its front cover to its final pages was full of cartoons and caricature, depicting everything from international political figures—Hitler and Mussolini —and contemporary domestic political and cultural figures— Trần Trọng Kim and Nguyễn Văn Tâm—to generic representations of social types that included not only Lý Toét but an array of others, as Marr suggests.
Thirdly, and somewhat paradoxically, a considerable part of caricature’s appeal lay in the fact that visual as well as spoken satire already had a long history in Vietnamese culture. Over the centuries, the Vietnamese had developed a powerful ability to skewer figures from all walks of life, though none more effectively than pompous or incompetent officials. These were frequently ridiculed in a wide range of folk tales. Accounts of the career of Trạng Quỳnh [Master Quỳnh], a shrewd lower-level literatus who consistently got the better of political and economic elites, were only the most prominent in this important tradition. Other tales in this vein centered on the figure of Trạng Lợn [Master Pig], who represented the court official as fool, and traced numerous misadventures in which his foolishness and naivete always managed to save him and occasionally transformed him into an unlikely hero.21 Peter Zinoman has pointed out that the literary critic Văn Tâm saw strong parallels between Trạng Lợn and Red-Haired Xuân, the central character in Vũ Trọng Phụng‘s Dumb Luck, who similarly found success in spite of (or perhaps because of) his ignorance.22
Although elite social figures were most frequently satirized in folk tales or other oral traditions, they were also sometimes lampooned visually, albeit indirectly, in the form of woodblock renderings of various animals used to represent the world of humans. The use of animals and animal society to stand in for humans was, of course, a means by which to offer commentary in a manner oblique enough to be understood without appearing to be directly attacking figures of authority. In any case, woodblock representations of officials or social elites as particular animals was vet another means by which to offer what can only be described as caricatures. Moreover, such woodblock images even appeared on the pages of Phong Hóa, although in updated form, such as a rendering of the “Wedding of the Rats” (see Figure 3), which mixed the modern (automobiles, phonographs, and Western dress) with the traditional (firecrackers, a wedding banquet, and homage to one’s parents).23
Ultimately, it is perhaps not surprising that indigenous cultural elements such as these should be an important, if sometimes subtle, part of such modern journals as Phong Hóa. These elements reflected the village origins of at least some urban writers of the 1930s, and the reality that most urban residents were themselves recent transplants from villages, and as such would appreciate humor that resonated with their own cultural experiences, even if its origins were sometimes obscured.24 Consequently, Lý Toét and the wider realm of caricature of which he represented only a small part should be viewed not as an entirely alien and imported art form but rather as the fusion of two streams of humor: the French tradition of political caricature and the long-established Vietnamese tradition of oral and visual satire.
A final reason for the appeal of Phong Hóa’s illustrations —both in the Lý Toét caricatures and in other cartoons—may have been their ability to depict motion and movement. Many of these cartoons involved multiple frames, showing a sequence of events that the reader could track from their onset to their conclusion. Some were a relatively straightforward two-panel “before and after” sequence, while others involved three or more frames and showed a series of events almost like a moving image. Many of these cartoons depicted the dangers of modern urban life, showing these dangers in a series of images: young men crashing their bicycles over three frames; a person walking along, deep in conversation, in two frames, and then falling down an open manhole in the third.25 Even the many Phong Hoá illustrations that consisted of single-frame images could show movement in that they implied a sense of what would happen next: Lý Toét about to be hit by a train, Lý Toét about to have his shoes stolen, and the like. The movement thus represented on the printed pages of Phong Hóa suggests the speed, the change, and the dynamism of urban modernity. These images also emulated, in some respects, the new medium of film, which was becoming increasingly popular in Hà Nội in the early 1930s.26
… CONTINUE …
7. A useful brief sketch of Nhất Linh’s career and involvement in Phong Hóa can he found in Nguyễn Văn Ký, “A City that Remembers,” in Hanoi: City of the Rising Dragon, Ceorges Boudarel and Nguyễn Văn Ký (Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield, 2002), 35-37; see also Creg Lockhart, “Broken Journey: Nhất Linh’s ‘Going to France’,” East Asian History 8 (December 1994): 73-134; also Jamieson, Understanding Vietnam, 113-114.
8. Jamieson, Understanding Vietnam, 102.
9. Phong Hoa, July 28,1933, p. 3; Nguyễn Văn Ký, “The City that Remembers,” 34. Nguyễn Văn Ký estimates readership figures for Phong Hóa of around 15,850 and for Ngày Nay of 7.850. Nguyễn Văn Ký, La Societe Vietnamienne,
10. The first crossword puzzle, for example, appeared on March 17,1933 ( 15) under the heading “Xếp Chữ Ô” [lit. “place the letters in the boxes”] and included a detailed explanation of how such puzzles function. Thereafter crosswords were a regular feature in the pages of Phong Hóa.
11. The two papers overlapped briefly in 1935, but Ngày Nay continued to publish after Phong Hóa closed the following year.
12. Hue-Tam Ho Tai, Radicalism and the Origins of the Vietnamese Revolution (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992), 49.
13. “Tự Lực Văn Đoàn,” Phong Hóa, March 2,1934, p.2.
14. Phong Hóa, May 26,1933, p. 5.
15. For more on Lý Toét’s early incarnations, see Nguyễn Văn Ký, La Society Vietnamienne,
16. For example, see the solicitation for Lý Toét contributions in Phong Hóa, December 15,1933, p. 6. David Marr has pointed out that the new world of publications created a forum not only for readers but for writers and illustrators as well, and the pages of Phong Hóa, like those of many other journals in this period, frequently featured the contributions of readers (Marr, “A Passion for Modernity,” 261).
17. Phong Hoá, December 15,1933, p. 6.
18. Nguyễn Văn Ký, “A City that Remembers,” Fora detailed examination of that journal’s origins, see Laurent Martin, Le Canard enchaine on les Fortunes de la vertu: Histoire d’un journal satirique 1915-2000 [The Chained Duck or the Fortunes of Virtue: History of a Satirical Journal, 1915-2000] (Paris: Flammarion, 2001), especially chapters 1 and 2. Fora more general oveiview of the French tradition of satirical caricature, see Robert Justin Goldstein, Censorship of Political Caricature in Nineteenth-Century’ France (Kent, OH: Kent State Univeisity Press, 1989); David S. Kerr, Caricature and French Political Culture, 1830-1848: Charles Philipon and the Illustrated Press (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2000).
19. Thus, the Lý Toét cartoons cannot he seen as the birth in Vietnam of a modern political critique, such as was seen in places like Indonesia, albeit somewhat later in the century, as Benedict Anderson has described. Benedict Anderson, “Cartoons and Monuments: The Evolution of Political Communication under the New Order,” in Political Power and Communications in Indonesia, ed. Karl D. Jackson and Lucian W. Pye (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1978), 286-301.
20. Marr, “A Passion for Modernity,” 261-262.
21. An example of a Trạng Lợn tale can he found in Hữu Ngọc, Sketches for a Portrait of Vietnamese Culture (Hà Nội: Thế Giới Publishers, 1998), 761-764; for more discussion of this element of Vietnamese folk satire, see pages 616-618.
22. Peter Zinoman, introduction to Dumb Luck, by Vũ Trọng Phụng, ed. Peter Zinoman, trans, by Nguyễn Nguyệt Cầm and Peter Zinoman (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2002), 13.
23. Phong Hóa, December 1,1933, p. 1.
24. On the emergence of a large urban population in Hanoi, see Zinoman, introduction to Dumb Luck, 7; see also Creg Lockhart and Monique Lockhart, introduction to Light of the Capital: Three Modern Vietnamese Classics (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press, 1996), 9-11. Several of Phong Hóa’s core writers were horn in rural areas, though a more precise account of the demographics of the papers authors is difficult to establish.
25. For examples of bicycle crash cartoons, see Phong Hóa, September 29,1934, p. 1; and October 13,1933, p. 8; for a manhole cover cartoon, see Phong Hóa, August 18,1933, p. 13.
26. Sec, for example, Nguyễn Văn Ký, La Societe Vietnamienne, 181-191, which notes that more than five hundred films were shown in Hanoi between 1937 and 1938.
SEE MORE:
◊ Lý Toét in the the City – Part 1
◊ Lý Toét in the the City – Part 3
◊ Lý Toét in the the City – Part 4
◊ Lý Toét in the the City – Part 5
BAN TU THU
11 /2019