Introduction

Identity crisis, a concept where an individual’s prior identity no longer fits new contexts (Erikson, 1968), is now recurrent and often taken as the motif in literary works especially postcolonial literature. As a unique and established genre akin to fantasy in China, Jin Yong’s wuxiaFootnote 1 novels have been regarded as a by-product of Hong Kong’s colonial and postcolonial histories by some scholars, for instance, Hamm (2005) and Liu (2011). The corpus of Jin Yong’s works is replete with heroes who are blurred by their mysterious and complex origins, a feature that also represents and triggers the “narrative motivation” (Zhou, 1995, p. 152) of Jin Yong’s writing, and determines the narrative macrostructure and plotting which constitute the central axis of the novels. Compared to Old School wuxia fictions that simply use blood feuds and violent brawls as the immediate and eye-catching appeal to the readers, Jin Yong’s generic manoeuvre and reorientation of the novel toward “emotional and psychological drama” (Hamm, 2005, p. 57), through the journey to the settlement of identity recognition to a certain cultural value, are typically seen as his major contribution to the New School paradigm.

However, translating these fascinating and intriguing elements poses a challenge due to considerable discrepancies pertaining to linguistic, historical, cultural and ideological aspects between the Orient and the Occident. This is evidenced by the peripheral status of wuxia fiction in the field of world literature in translation (Mok, 1998; Hong and Li, 2015). In Translation Studies, identity-related issues have long been a topic of interest, often focusing on translators/interpreters’ identity crisis in a hegemonic or immigratory context (Hale, 2005; Pan and Yi, 2017; Kayyal, 2022), the role of translation in the construction and promotion of identity at different levels (Woodsworth, 1996; House et al., 2005; Venuti, 2013; Pollali and Sidiropoulou, 2021), translating identity in multilingual practices (Lee, 2009; Ponomarenko, 2019; Beseghi, 2019) and the identity crisis among translation scholars in certain ideological group (Cheung, 2011). To date, although a considerable body of research has examined the extratextual aspects of identity crisis in translation, relatively little attention has been paid to how characters’ psychological dimensions of identity crisis are rendered from the source text to the target text. Instead, related issues are often approached through the lens of postcolonial studies, particularly via the concept of hybridity—an emerging yet still underexplored topic within Translation Studies. Recent studies have explored the relationship between a translator’s bicultural hybridity and bilingual creativity (Meng and Cai, 2020; Takahashi, 2020), as well as the role of translation in representing hybrid identities within immigrant communities (Asscher, 2021; Pokorn, 2023). Taking a transmedia perspective, Zhang et al (2023) and Zhang (2021) focus on traditional wuxia films in exploring the hybrid Chinese identity and its dialogue with Western cultures. Though diasporic hybridity and identity crisis share similarities in their mixed nature, they have different backgrounds and features, as elaborated by Schäffner and Adab:

  • Hybridity has been shown to be a constituting characteristic of social interaction resulting mainly from the contemporary globalization of communication and from the effects of communication in spaces of fuzzy or merging borders, which in turn affect cultural and linguistic identities. (Schäffner and Adab, 2001, p. 301).

It can be found that hybridity is the product of cultural process, which is situated in the confronting third space in between the heterogenous and diversified cultural systems (Bhabha, 1994). While identity crisis is considered the metaphor of psychological predicament in the face of cultural hybridity, which brings out the emergence of new forms of identities. Therefore, an understanding of hybridity is conducive to investigating the translation of identity crisis, with the subject being an Other to itself.

Notably, certain questions arise as to what is the difference of perception towards the identity-related concepts between Chinese and Western culture? To what extent does this difference present difficulty to the translation? And how may translators tackle these translation problems to frame identity crisis into the narrative structure of jianghu world, especially in Jin Yong’s wuxia novels? To investigate these questions, the present study is therefore focused on the strategies that translators adopted in translating identity crisis in Jin Yong’s wuxia novels, taking the four volumes of Legends of the Condor Heroes (hereinafter LCH), English translation of Shediao Yingxiong Zhuan, as a case in point. This article begins by tracing the historical development and comparing the different reflections on two sets of corresponding concepts of shenshi ‘身世’ [origin] / ‘identity’ and jianghu ‘江湖’ [rivers and lakes] / diaspora in the context of Chinese and Western literature, from which this paper intends to deduce and analyse the general problems in translating the identity-related issues. Subsequently, it gives a brief introduction to and reviews relevant studies on LCH, followed by an analysis and discussion of the strategies for translating identity crisis in and beyond jianghu as a narrative apparatus in LCH.

The original work of LCH began serialization in Hong Kong Commercial Daily on January 1, 1957, and ran for over two years through May 19, 1959. The novel’s profound influence on both literature and popular culture has ensured its enduring status not just as a defining piece of Jin Yong’s oeuvre, but also a cornerstone of modern Chinese literature. The four volumes of LCH were co-translated by Anna Holmwood, Gigi Chang and Shelly Bryant, and were officially published by Maclehose Press (a British publisher) in 2018, 2019, 2020 and 2021, marking a turning point in bringing Jin Yong’s works to a global readership, with Western critics praising the novel for its universal themes and narrative complexity. Recent studies on LCH have shed light on the translation of Jin Yong’s wuxia genre from various perspectives such as the corpus-based approach (Chen and Dai, 2021; Fang and Fu, 2022), sociology of translation (Sun and Liang, 2023; Ni and Yang, 2024) and translator’s subjectivity (Diao, 2022a; 2024). Taking a rather innovative view, Zhang (2023) proposes a concept of “secondary world”, an imaginary story environment that indicates jianghu and emphasizes its hybridity in rules, climate, geography, ethnicity, language, and history. In this sense, translators need to reconstruct the hybrid context and create a new narrative world that aligns with the logic of the “secondary world” in the original novel, while catering to the reading expectations at the same time. Although Zhang looks at the hybridity elements of LCH, her research primarily offers a macro-level description and focuses on the deployment of paratextual tools, lacking attention to hybridity within the main narrative logic of the novel, especially concerning the characters’ inner struggles with identity hybridity.

Analysing ideational difference of ‘identity’ for translation purposes

The dichotomy of “who am I”—identity and origin in diaspora and jianghu respectively—and their geopolitical foundations in East versus West serve as the preliminary forethought in this paper. Historically, different literary traditions across countries determine the perception for this ideology and therefore the depicting tendency of identity-related plotting structure.

Jianghu versus diaspora: cultural and historical background

In traditional Chinese wuxia novels, there is always a righteous group with hot-blooded goodfellows such as martial artists, wandering heroes, outlaws and other marginalized figures who, when forced from ordinary society by injustice or by social upheaval, forge alliances through martial arts and “create an alternative world with characteristic internal norms” (Hamm, 1999, p. 8). This alternative imaginary world has a generalized expression of jianghu ‘江湖’, which literally means “rivers and lakes”. Looking into the literary origins of jianghu, Chen Pingyuan understands this concept as territory opposed to yet correlated with “temples and ancestral halls” [miaotang 庙堂] where rulers conducted rituals and asserted authority in ancient China. Unlike other cultural symbols such as shanlin ‘山林’ [hills and woods] where seclusionists retire and enjoy idyllic life and lülin ‘绿林’ [green forests] where bandits militarize to overthrow the temple, jianghu is a place for people with different background to temporarily rest before they are promoted to officialdom (Chen, 1992, pp. 130–140). When envisaged through the suggestive narrative representation by wuxia novelists, stories that happened in jianghu often result in “renewed imaging of the lone swordsman in search of the unknowable key to the enigma of life” (Chan, 2001, p. 491). In fact, not only the community of righteous swordsmen, but also its opposite of those who partake cruelty and vanity and what could be added to this dichotomy of those kungfu masters who live a tranquil life, called jianghu yinshi ‘隐士’ [hermits], co-exist in this dislodged landscape.

Rather than being set in a mythical and semi-realistic realm, the term “diaspora” refers to the dispersion of a population who share a cultural and regional background from their original homeland to various places through immigration or forced movements. The most historically significant diaspora is the Jewish Diaspora, where Jews were forcibly removed from their homeland and scattered across the Babylonian Empire in the 6th century BCE. By extension, it has been applied to refer to the “metaphorical and religious implications of life away from the homeland” (Cohen, 1997, p. ix), and used to describe other instances of mass migration or forced relocation, with similar themes of cultural preservation, identity transformation, and the maintenance of connection to the homeland. Semantically, it has fallen into the domain that includes concepts like “immigrant, refugee, exile community, overseas community”; or could be seen as “the vocabulary of transnationalism” (Tölölyan, 1991, p. 4–5), especially under the context of globalization. From this we can assume that exile can be seen as a near synonym of diaspora. Recent discussions, however, have differentiated them by clarifying diaspora under the context of a broader and generational experience:

  • The key contrast with exile lies in diaspora’s emphasis on lateral and decentered relationships among the dispersed. Exile suggests pining for home; diaspora suggests networks among compatriots. Exile may be solitary, but diaspora is always collective. Diaspora suggests real or imagined relationships among scattered fellows, whose sense of community is sustained by forms of communication and contact such as kinship, pilgrimage, trade, travel, and shared culture like language, ritual, scripture, or print and electronic media (Peters, 1999, p. 20).

Moving from a focus on the individual narrative of suffering to a collective and dynamic process of adaptation, the transition of meaning from “exile” to “diaspora” under the Western tradition reflects a broader shift in the understanding of identity and belonging. However, both the terms themselves and the implications of their cultural variations can still find the counterpart in Chinese images of jianghu, which bear similarities in geographical displacement and psychological disturbance. Now we can determine the taxonomy and investigate the thematic evolution of Jin Yong’s jianghu wonderland accordingly. By placing the main consciousness of loss, suffering and geographical displacement on account of political misfortune and Han-Manchu struggle as the theme, Jin Yong’s early works including Book and Sword and The Sword Stained with Royal Blood, moved away from the parochial concerns with local heroes and regional culture though, should be termed as exilic discourse. Associations later pertaining to jianghu, in turn, are represented by Jin Yong’s successive works such as Legends of the Condor Heroes and Return of the Condor Heroes. They bear some metaphorical resemblance to the notion of modern diaspora in that the protagonists therein display psychological disturbance of hybrid identities and heroic nationalism, and the community largely relies on shared cultural bonds to create a geographical and discursive space on its own as opposed to orthodox imperial court; thus the thematic vision can be described as diasporic. But how does the psychological conflict manifest itself in a diasporic context compared with the jianghu world? And what problem may ensue in translating this kind of narrative in literary works? These questions need more in-depth exploration into different literary traditions in depicting characters’ emotional vicissitudes.

‘Origin labyrinth’ versus ‘identity crisis’: translation problems in literary works

There is ongoing debate among cultural scholars about whether novelists from different backgrounds use psychological conflict in triggering and promoting the development of narrative. Chinese traditional narrative literature has its own distinct way of storytelling, which, notwithstanding some similarities with its Western counterparts, is based on circular reasoning, Chinese people’s collective experiences and tend to integrate personal conflicts with broader societal and moral concerns (Yang, 1994; Shen and Zhou, 2006). The most prominent example of the narrative in the exploration of selfhood would be the prevailing theme of shenshi zhi mi ‘身世之谜’ [origin labyrinth] in Jin Yong’s wuxia novels and the concept of identity and identification as a “hallmark of modern and postmodern Western literature” (Ding and Wang, 2018, p. 50). Both terms are concerned with existential questions of self, identity, and belonging, yet are deeply rooted in different cultural contexts: the former in Chinese literary traditions, emphasizing mysteries of origin and fate, and the latter in Western psychological discourse, focusing on personal and social identity struggles, which undeniably adds to the difficulties of translation.

Through heroes’ origin labyrinth, the theme of discovery is determined, triggering a psychologically adventurous and enigmatic exploration of human relationships in a mythical landscape of jianghu. What comes after the labyrinth and discovery is a dramatic tension that underlines a sense of fatalism—the belief that understanding one’s origin can unlock the predetermined truths about destiny and identity. In this context, identity is not constructed through introspective reflection alone as shown in the Western Freudian notion of personal development, psychological trauma and moral growth, but is discovered through external revelations, such as divine signs, family histories, or concealed truths. What lies beyond the realm of origin labyrinth and identity crisis, is how people perceive themselves in a hybrid and ambiguous context, or, in the process of identification in a Western sense. Therefore, it is the heterogeneity of the different kinds of hybridityFootnote 2 that adds to the difficulties in translation, especially at a time when “the issue of identity has become so complex and even harsh that it can no longer be stabilized simply by aligning with a particular cultural value” (Zhou, 1995, p. xi). In dealing with the binary relationship between the colonizer and the colonized, Bhabha (1985/1994) points out that the identities of both the colonizer and the colonized carry a certain hybridity, filled with ambiguity and resistance, which creates a heterogeneous and pluralistic space of confrontation between the two. It is also true for Jin Yong’s wuxia novels. Between the foreign rulers and the Han commoners, there exists not only the hybridity of inner ideological spaces for foreign powers, brought about by the active study of Chinese culture, but also the impurity of the living and emotional spaces embodied by numerous characters, as well as the ambiguity in their resistance to foreign rule. In this sense, we have found the greatest commonality for linking origin labyrinth in Chinese jianghu context and identity crisis in Western diasporic context: hybridity. This concept serves as the key to addressing the problems in translating both culture-specific and identity-related issues in Jin Yong’s wuxia novels.

It can be therefore deduced that such problems of translation are not merely limited to a linguistic level but largely rooted in the deep and ambiguous institutional and cultural traditions of Chinese existence. In an institutional sense, as an imaginary landscape set in real historical period, the jianghu world in Jin Yong’s novels serves as a common ideological identification for Chinese people, which typically places the identity hybridity of denizens of jianghu in the melodrama of the power struggle, dynastic vicissitudes and nation-state conflicts. Besides, under the jianghu’s moral codes—which are largely determined by male authority—gender hierarchy appear to be pronounced in the female characters’ struggle between individual desire and patriarchal expectation (Liu, 2007). This naturally leads to depiction and comparison between endearing and poisonous femininity in Jin Yong’s wuxia novels. There is also an ethnic aspect under the institutional background in Jin Yong’s jianghu world. Many scholars have highlighted that Jin Yong’s works, especially those early works, often bring to the fore the confrontation between Han and non-Han people and arguably raise the issue of ethnic chauvinism (Song, 2007, p. 134–137; Liu, 2011, pp. 153–155). Therefore, the first level of translation challenges lies in helping Western readers from different institutional backgrounds understand the complex hybrid identities of characters in Jin Yong’s jianghu world, shaped by intersecting national, ethnic, and gender dimensions. There is another level in Jin Yong’s wuxia novels that pose difficulty to translation: a vision of Chineseness centered on cultural traditions and geographical imaginary, or, to be more specific, the cultural boundaries and dynamics between the mainland core and the outlying periphery as observed by some scholars (see Fu, 2000, p. 208; Tu, 1994, pp. 18–25). In this regard, Jin Yong has pulled the cultural imaginary away from the narrative of the nation-state to a mythical geography. By integrating jianghu into concrete geographical entities in and outside the empire’s borders, Jin Yong makes use of these tools in the exploration of Chinese cultural identity. It is safe to say that, the seeming “mismatch” of cultural psychology between the usurped interior which represents both the emotional heartland of Han Chinese and the orthodox of authority, and the isolated borderlands that features political exile and cultural salvation, makes it necessary to find the right balance between translation and adaptation when it comes to translating texts concerning identity crisis in the jianghu world.

To sum up, the translation challenges in Jin Yong’s jianghu world extend far beyond linguistic concerns; they are deeply rooted in the complex and often ambiguous institutional and cultural frameworks of Chinese identity. As a fictional space grounded in real historical contexts, jianghu encapsulates hybrid identities shaped by intersecting national, ethnic, and gender dimensions, manifesting in struggles with patriarchal norms, ethnic tensions, and socio-political upheavals. Moreover, Jin Yong’s imaginative use of geography further complicates these identities by decentering nation-state narratives in favor of a mythical cultural landscape that blurs the boundaries between the imperial core and peripheral spaces. This multilayered construction of Chineseness presents translators with the task of mediating not only textual meaning but also deep-seated cultural and ideological undercurrents. It is against this backdrop that the following case studies explore concrete translation strategies designed to address these identity complexities.

The translation of identity crisis in Legends of the Condor Heroes

Amid the looming tensions among race, ethnicity, and nation, the question of personal identity becomes a fetish in modern consciousness. How does an individual align with and gain recognition from a particular group? How is someone, with ties to both state and nation, ultimately positioned? These are challenges that cannot be overlooked, both for individuals to experience the search for their roots and serve as the motif in nationalist discourses.

For example, in LCH, Lily Li advises her son, Guo Jing, to “never forget your roots,” emphasizing the importance of cultural identity even under foreign oppression. This reflects a steadfast attachment to one’s heritage. However, Guo Jing’s hybrid identity complicates this sense of loyalty. Despite his devotion to the Han people, his emotional ties to the Mongols, shaped by shared experiences and friendships, challenge his sense of belonging. Besides that, LCH also abounded with hybridity in ethnic identity, cultural identity, and gender identity and the translators need to both scrutinize these elements and render them into a textual product that caters to Western readers through various techniques. In the present study, the tackling techniques include adopting focalization of the protagonists’ flow state, making a sheer division between masculinity and femininity, downplaying excessive Han chauvinism, and foregrounding geographical imaginary as will be elaborated below. These showcase the translators’ intervention in framing heterogenous identity crisis into the English translation of LCH.

It should be noted that the selected examples are translated by different translators. Although they may exhibit individual stylistic nuances, this study seeks to examine the manipulation of the translator team as a whole because the project of LCH is conceived as a collaborative endeavor under a shared translation philosophy. Emphasizing cohesion and consistency across volumes, this collective approach is evident in both their public statements and prior research findings (see Diao, 2022b; Chang, 2023), which highlight a consensus on key strategies such as maintaining a unified narrative voice and culturally adaptive representation. Therefore, the analysis treats the translations as a coherent body of work shaped by joint decision-making rather than as isolated outputs by independent translators.

Focalization on the protagonists’ flow state

The origin labyrinth serves as a deep structural element in the narrative of LCH, through which Jin Yong tends to subtly hint at profound meaning within the fragmented jianghu world of fantastical experiences. This meaning lies in the “foundational role played by consanguinity in world order” (Zhou, 1995, p. 154). The conflict between social factors of upbringing and the natural tie of consanguinity is embodied in the relationship between the heroes’ adoptive and biological fathers. In a harmonious order, the roles of the birth father and adoptive father should ideally align. When they diverge—especially if they become enemies—it not only disrupts the essence of life but also leads to painful existential conditions. This tension between familial loyalty and social expectations forms a crucial thematic element in LCH, reflected by the inner struggles of the protagonists. The following example, taken from Gigi Chang’s translation, shows how the translators tackle Yang Kang’s identity crisisFootnote 3 between his Han ancestry of Ironheart Yang and his privileged life as the foster son of Wanyan Honglie, who were enemies of the Song (Han) people.

  • 完颜洪烈听了他语气, 料他必定已知自己身世, 可是这次又是他出手相救, 不知他有何打算。两人十八年来父慈子孝, 亲爱无比, 这时同处斗室, 忽然想到相互间却有深恨血仇。杨康更心中交战: “这时只须反手几拳, 立时就报了我父母之仇, 但怎下得了手? 那杨铁心虽是我的生父, 他又给我过什么好处? 妈妈平时待父王也很不错, 我若此时杀他, 妈妈在九泉之下, 也不会欢喜。再说, 难道我真的就此不做王子, 和郭靖一般的流落草莽么? ”[……] 杨康听他言下之意, 竟有篡位之意, 想到“富贵不可限量”这六个字, 心中怦怦乱跳, 暗想: “以大金国兵威, 灭宋非难。蒙古只一时之患, 这些只会骑马射箭的蛮子终究成不了气候。父王精明强干, 当今金主哪能及他? 大事若成, 我岂不成了天下的共主? ”(Jin, 2013, p. 547).

  • Wanyan Honglie surmised that the coolness shown by his son must have been due to him learning of his true parentage. But, if so, why had he helped him just now? They had been close for eighteen years, doting father and filial son. Now, sitting in the dark in this small chamber, their bodies close, he could feel the bad blood between them. A battle had been raging inside Yang Kang since they had taken refuge in this room. He realized this was his chance to avenge his parents. He could easily kill the man responsible for the death of his birth parents with a flip of his palm, but he was haunted by doubts. Can I muster the resolve to kill him right now? Ironheart Yang might be my birth father, but what did he ever do for me? Ma was always kind to Father; if I kill him now, surely it won’t please Ma’s spirit in the underworld. Do I want to give up all that I’ve enjoyed since birth? Am I ready to renounce my privileges as a prince and wander around as a thief and a bandit with Guo Jing? […] He means to usurp the throne! This new insight delivered Yang Kang from his dilemma. Now he could appraise his situation from a different perspective. The Jin army will destroy the Song easily. The Mongols are a nuisance, but those savages on horseback will never amount to much more than a marauding horde. Not even our Emperor can match Father’s wit and abilities. So, once he gets his way, I too will ascend to greatness. (Jin, 2019, pp. 319–320).

As revealed in the immersive mental focus, Yang Kang is torn between revenge and filial loyalty, oscillating between desires to kill Wanyan Honglie and the guilt of betraying familial bonds. His flow state soon evolves from doubt about his revenge plan to ecstasy when calculating potential power, and finally to sheer steadfastness in his hidden agenda. The translators maintain this internal tug-of-war but adjust the expression for smoother flow in English, simplifying some of the more intricate wording and rhetorical nuances of the source text to preserve clarity, which reflects Yang Kang’s racing thoughts in a more linear, action-oriented fashion.

For instance, in the target text, Yang Kang’s thoughts, like “Can I muster the resolve to kill him right now?” and “Do I want to give up all that I’ve enjoyed since birth?”, convey the emotional paralysis and self-doubt embedded in the original. These questions externalize his inner dialogue in a concise and direct style, making the turmoil more accessible to the English-speaking reader. It is also noteworthy that “九泉之下” jiuquan zhi xia (literally “beneath the nine springs,” a metaphor for the underworld or afterlife) here is not rendered in a foreignization style as the same phrase in other parts of the novelFootnote 4, but becomes “Ma’s spirit in the underworld”. This retains the meaning of the original but prioritizes emotional resonance over word-for-word accuracy, without obstructing the narrative pace and alienating readers unfamiliar with the specific cultural idioms. The translators then preserve the shift of Yang Kang’s mental state from emotional turmoil to a clear, ambition-driven calculation. In the source text, “心中怦怦乱跳” xin zhong pengpeng luantiao (the heart pounded wildly with fear and anxiety) should not be mistaken as the sign of Yang Kang’s indecision and withdrawal when facing Wanyan Honglie’s ambition, but rather his sheer thrill and ecstasy of greater agenda. The translators make this pace smoothly in the target text, with lines like “this new insight delivered Yang Kang from his dilemma” serving as a narrative bridge, which helps to maintain the reader’s engagement with the protagonist’s shift in mindset, mirroring the rapid re-orientation found in the source text. In the last phase of psychological somersaults, Yang Kang achieves a full steadfastness of ambition, not out of affection for his foster father, but greed for greater gains, marking a prominent and successful address of his identity crisis. In the source text, the phrase “我岂不成了天下的共主?” wo qi bu cheng le tianxia de gongzhu? (would that not make me the supreme ruler of the world?) becomes “I too will ascend to greatness” in the target text. By switching from a rhetorical question to an affirmative sentence, the translators effectively convey the character’s sudden realization of potential power and wealth, aligning with the spirit of the original, though the wording becomes slightly less formal to fit natural English expression.

As such, the protagonist’s hybrid and fluid flow state is represented in a fast-paced and continuous manner. In the successive narrative of the target text, this successful completion of Yang Kang’s settlement of identity crisis turns out to be his fatal weakness and foreshadows his ill-fated life’s end.

Sheer division between endearing and poisonous femininity

Female characters are less likely to experience origin labyrinth in Jin Yong’s novels. Their identity crisis manifests mainly through the stereotype from patriarchal power as to what is to be a female (as mother, daughter, protégé or romantic partner) in the wuxia world, or, as projected in contemporary society. To be specific, in this respect, there are two types of female characters portrayed in LCH: one is those positive females who provide emotional education for the male heroes, often seen as the “projection of the equivalence of personal morality and patriotic loyalty onto the domain of female virtue” (Hamm, 2005, p. 275), like Lily Li; the other includes rebellious and wretched women who resist to the ethical codes up in arms at the cost of evilness and abnormality, like Cyclone Mei. The following examples translated by Gigi Chang and Shelly Bryant show how the translators make a sheer division between endearing and poisonous femininity stereotypes and bring to the fore the issues of the female identity crisis and critique of patriarchal society.

  • 李萍道: “是啊。杨家那孩子认贼作父, 落得个身败名裂, 那也不用多说了, 只可惜杨叔父一世豪杰, 身后子孙却玷污了他的英名。”叹了口气, 又道: “想我当年忍辱蒙垢, 在北国苦寒之地将你养大, 所为何来? 难道为的是要养大一个卖国奸贼, 好叫你父在黄泉之下痛心疾首么? ”[……] 她凝目向郭靖望了良久, 神色极是温柔, 说到: “儿子, 你好好照顾自己! ”说着举起短剑割断他手上绳索, 不待郭靖转身, 便即转过剑尖, 刺入自己胸膛。(Jin, 2013, p. 1273)

  • “That’s right. It’s a cruel shame Yang Kang grew up to call the Jin Prince his father. He brought ruin unto himself and tainted Uncle Yang’s reputation as a hero and a patriot”. She heaved a sigh. “Why do you think I put up with the bitter cold of these northern lands to bring you up? Do you think I endured disgrace and hardship to raise a traitor, so you can break your father’s heart in the Yellow Spring below?” […] Lily Li gazed tenderly into Guo Jing’s eyes. “Son, take good care of yourself”. She slipped the dagger behind Guo Jing’s back, cut the ropes around his wrists, and then twisted it round, plunging its point into her own breast. (Jin, 2021, pp. 473–474).

In this passage, Lily Li is confronted with an identity crisis between the Confucian and patriarchal expectations of motherhood and a tragic adherence to a system that demands her ultimate sacrifice. The final martyrdom marks a tragic resolution to this predicament. The translators’ choice to maintain the sequence of her gaze, words, and final act preserves the layered nature of her crisis, emphasizing the tragic beauty of a woman torn between personal agency and duty. In the level of plot development, the successful representation of Lily Li’s identity crisis, has not only achieved her self-sublimation as a reward from patriarchal doctrine, but also marked a resolution to Guo Jing’s moral dilemma and paved the way for him to become a hero and a paragon of virtue. From this point on, Guo Jing becomes a true orphan, freed from all moral constraints, allowing him to wholeheartedly serve as a loyal subject of the Song dynasty.

  • 梅超风想起黄药师生性之酷、手段之辣, 不禁脸如土色, 全身簌簌而抖, 似乎见到黄药师脸色严峻, 已站在身前, 不由得全身酸软, 似已武功全失, 伏在地下, 颤声道: “弟子罪该万死, 只求师父可怜弟子双目已盲, 半身残废, 从宽处分。弟子对不起您老人家, 当真猪狗不如。”(Jin, 2013, p. 346).

  • By now, Cyclone Mei had flopped to the ground, all her martial training vanished. Her face had turned an earthen hue and she spoke fearfully, as if an enraged Apothecary Huang was standing before her. “Your disciple deserves ten thousand deaths for her crimes. I beseech Shifu to take pity on my blind eyes and crippled body, and show mercy with your punishment. I have wronged you grievously, Master. I am a nothing but a beast, even worse than a pig or a dog!” Her voice was trembling. (Jin, 2019, pp. 50–51, italics in original).

In sharp contrast, the poisonous woman Cyclone Mei appears to fall victim to the patriarchal system due to her martial prowess and rebellious spirit. The above-cited example vividly encapsulates her complex relationship with Apothecary Huang. Through her submissive posture, self-deprecating language, and acknowledgment of her inferiority within the hierarchy, Mei’s femininity, however fierce and initially rebellious, is ultimately constrained and subdued by the patriarchal structures represented by her master. The translators render “伏在地下” fu zai di xia (prostrate on the ground) as “flopped to the ground”, to emphasize Mei’s complete surrender and psychological vulnerability in a more fierce way. Besides, the term “beseech” conveys a stronger degree of desperation than “ask” or “request”, the more frequent translation of “求” qiu, which further adds to Mei’s subservience. The translators’ strategies of emphasizing her deference and self-abasement suggest that Mei’s power is ultimately confined within the boundaries of male approval, where her femininity is defined by submission rather than autonomy.

Through different translation strategies, the translators render two different and opposite types of femininity, whose crisis of identity and subjectivity appear to be more prominent in the target text. By doing so, the translators avoid demonizing the victimized female characters and pay more attention to their circumstances in this fictional male-led jianghu world, which implies the translators’ sympathy for those women—a special translation philosophy as can be evidenced in Shelly Bryant’s (2021), one the of co-translators of LCH, remarks:

  • The one concern that I did have about us being an all-female team is, you have to acknowledge that these [female] characters are being written from the perspective of male gaze […] We as women, female translators. I think we have this tendency to push back against it a little bit.

Downplaying excessive Han chauvinism

In the pioneering conference on the translation of Chinese wuxia novels called “The Question of Reception: Martial Arts Fiction in English Translation”, critics raised concerns regarding the contextual implications: whether explicit portrayals of cultural exceptionalism and chauvinism in Jin Yong’s novels are palatable to Western audience (see also Wong, 2016, pp. 572–590). As a prominent trope in LCH, in which nearly all the righteous goodfellows are Han Chinese and other peoples, no matter how admirable in their bravery, frankness and largesse, take on the villain’s role in the end. The reception of such ethos is largely shaped by a complex interplay of cultural expectations, ideological frameworks and literary preferences. Its subtext might discomfit present-day readers.

To avoid alienating Western readers in their navigation of the tension between admiration for cultural authenticity and discomfort with narratives of exclusion and ethno-cultural superiority, the translators of LCH have consciously softened and contextualized the representations of identity crisis reflected in Han chauvinism by framing them as a culturally specific product rather than politically problematic stance, in align with Cussel’s (2021) call to combat the methodological nationalism and ethnocentrism in translation. Shelly Bryant (2021) accounts for her dealings with this issue, remarking that “it’s a little bit of a sense of sensitive topic to bring up, but we have hit up against some what I would call Chinese chauvinism […] it’s not about hiding behind it, but trying to think about from the perspective of the English language readers”. The following examples exemplify how the translators manage to ease the potentially discomfort sentiment of the characters’ identity crisis by means of cultural intervention.

In terms of choosing a proper version for translation, the translator Anna Holmwood and the publishing house Maclehose Press decided on the Newly Revised Edition of LCH, the version that largely erased or softened the nationalistic and chauvinistic plot settings which are more explicit and unreserved in the previous editionsFootnote 5. Besides, the translators have also addressed the complex identities and relationships of different ethnic groups by highlighting the distinctions among the Han people, Mongols, and Jurchens present in the original work. For example, every Mongol character in LCH is given a transliterated name based on the traditional Mongolian pronunciation, like The Great Khan Temujin, Tolui, Khojin, Jamuka and Jebe. The translators have also provided a detailed introduction to the Mongolians and the Jin Empire in the preface of LCH, in an attempt to minimize the Chinese perspective of historical storytelling and connect the same period of history in Europe with Western readers’ impression of those historical figures, albeit sometimes may be distorted. By doing so, the translators have refrained from making LCH a pure celebratory work that sets out to glorify Chineseness while demonizing other ethnic groups, but highlighted the trope of universal emotion towards loyalty and courage and made the translation a straightforward heroic register.

Foregrounding geographical imaginary

Often filled with stories of success, failure, hope and despair, Jin Yong’s wuxia novels have long been praised as the “key to understanding the Chinese popular imagination” (Chan, 2001, p. 490). LCH, especially, is set in a distinctive signifying space in which the sense of time is usually de-historicized and space is de-localized. Indeed, it comes close to what Hamm calls “a timeless, mandala-like mythic geography” (2005, p. 79) which runs parallel to but distinct from the political geography of state nationalism. It is in this sense that LCH transcends from nationalism to culturalism of jianghu, where the richest cultural meanings always converge; and the cultural identity crisis embedded in the geographical imaginary is more pronounced in jianghu that beyond, or the allegorical world of jianghu that engenders a critical space for mapping the collective experiences of Chinese people, especially for Chinese in diaspora. In LCH, we can easily feel a Central Plains Syndrome, a concept proposed by Hsia (1961), which romanticizes the 中原 zhongyuan [Central Plain] as the cultural heart of China often from the perspective of the territory of dispossession and displacement. The scene in the lost place serves as a space for emotional resonances and cultural reinvigoration. Therefore, it is important to investigate how the translators tackle Jin Yong’s depiction of the cultural identity crisis embedded in his geographical imaginary in LCH, using Peach Blossom Island as an example, for Chinese who living beyond the jianghu in a world of changing values and within the geopolitical context of Chinese colonial modernity. Consider the following passages in Chinese and English translation by Gigi Chang:

  • 黄老邪精于奇门五行之术, 他这些花树都是依着诸葛亮当年八阵图的遗法种植的。黄老邪聪明之极, 琴棋书画、医卜星相, 以及农田水利、经济兵略, 无一不晓, 无一不精。(Jin, 2013, p. 572)

  • Old Heretic Huang knows the rules of the Mysterious Gates and the Five Elements inside out. He planted these trees according to the Eight Tactical Formation devised by the military strategist Zhuge Liang. Once among these trees, all he has to do is dart to the left, or make a few leaps right, and no-one can find him. The Heretic is exceptionally gifted, you know. He’s not just a martial great, he’s also a master of the four scholarly arts—zither, chess, calligraphy and painting. And he’s an expert in medicine, divination, astrology, physiognomy, agriculture, irrigation, economics and military strategy. (Jin, 2019, pp. 358–359).

In LCH, Jin Yong’s depiction of Peach Blossom Island, a paradisiacal locale poised on the waters outside the empire’s boundary, encapsulates a complex “geographical imaginary” that reflects a sense of Chinese cultural identity crisis. All culture-specific items of Chinese traditions are preserved and highlighted by the translators, which strongly foregrounds the cultural preservation and identity crisis associated with Heretic Huang’s mastery of traditional Chinese arts and knowledge to position him as a cultural guardian. However, differences in target text reveal nuances in how this identity is constructed. The translators further reaffirm Huang’s expertise in martial arts, which is ellipsized in the original, and add “the four scholarly arts” before “zither, chess, calligraphy and painting”. Such an approach clearly breaks away from the goal what the translator team set as making the novel that “people are going to keep turning the pages” (Holmwood, 2018) for the seemingly redundant reading loads. It is argued here that the translators’ intervention serves not just as a way to intertextually supplement and refine the narrative, but also to render Huang as an aristocratic scholar-gentleman while repositioning his cultural knowledge as simultaneously transcendent and isolated—a nostalgic sentiment that hints at a crisis. This attachment suggests a longing for a cultural space untainted by external conflicts, which, while alluring, also exposes the limitations of seeking an “ideal” cultural identity isolated from the broader societal context. In this sense, the geographical imaginary of the island itself, removed from jianghu, becomes a microcosm of Chinese intellectual and cultural heritage at risk of isolation, and emerges as a possible cultural alternative. Such positioning allows Western readers to see Peach Blossom Island as symbolizing both a yearning for authenticity and the inevitable fragmentation of identity when severed from its roots, making it an appealing yet ultimately unsustainable vision of identity and resonating with a modern sense of cultural heritage as both valuable and vulnerable in the changing values and geopolitics.

Conclusion

As Michael Cronin (2006, p. 2) points out, “views of identity are, of course, in part determined by local place and local histories,” this paper describes the problems that arise in the translation of identity crisis based on the examination of different historical background of identity-related concepts in Chinese and Western literature. Through the case study, we can find how the translators of LCH manage to represent the Chinese identity crisis in jianghu in terms of origin labyrinth, patriarchally influenced femininity and Han chauvinism. Moreover, the paper considers how the extratextual dimension of cultural identity within Jin Yong’s imagined jianghu world may be negotiated in translation as it enters a culturally distinct system, notably through the rendering of geopolitical imaginaries.

To sum up, from the perspective of creative adaptation, the translators have succeeded, first and foremost, in “maintain[ing] the pace and excitement of the original” (Holmwood, 2018)—a principle that underpins their translation philosophy of LCH. Second, by the same token, it still emerges as a fact that certain types of identity crisis such as the elements of excessive Han chauvinism have been largely downplayed. This may contribute to repositioning the novel from a nationalist narrative to a more culturally accessible product for global readership. The hybridity of culture, history, and values in Jin Yong’s novels—previously discussed as a defining trait of his “imagined community”—can, at times, require strategic negotiation or compromise in the process of cross-cultural translation and reception. As John Minford (1997, p. 30), the translator of Jin Yong’s The Deer and the Cauldron, observes, “Louis Cha’s novels provide Chinese readers with a celebration of Chinese culture, of Chineseness, a fictional experience which is in some respects more ‘Chinese’ than any of the available Chinese realities…[but] we cannot expect the new readers of Martial Arts fiction in translation to share this sense of cultural euphoria. All they can do is enjoy the spectacle of a culture rejoicing in itself”. In this sense, the translation of identity crisis in LCH largely contributes to the preliminary introduction of specific psychological conflicts and cultural traditions in the Chinese wuxia novel.

It is important to note that the identity crisis of characters in Jin Yong’s novels evolved significantly across different stages of his writing career. Correspondingly, the geographical imaginary—how cultural identity is tied to physical locations—also underwent notable changes in each phase (see Hamm, 2005; Song, 2019). Therefore, this paper does not attempt to fully explain the translation issues related to the identity crisis in Jin Yong’s oeuvre, nor to generalize about identity among Chinese people. Instead, it utilizes LCH as an example to provide some analytical instances for studying the translation of identity crisis in a Chinese jianghu setting, and to give reference of dynamic thematic evolution to potential translators of Jin Yong’s other novels. Besides, this study is limited by its reliance solely on textual analysis without incorporating empirical data. The absence of translator interviews or reader reception studies restricts the depth and triangulation of findings. Although translator unity is supported by extratextual remarks, individual differences may still affect translation choices. Future research should integrate empirical methods to enhance the validity and interpretive richness of identity translation analysis in LCH.

Notes

  1. 1.

    Wuxia, an idiosyncratic literary genre in traditional Chinese culture which can be seen as a hybrid of Western chivalric romance and fantasy, instead of martial arts, is used throughout this paper for specific clarification (for a clear-cut explanation please see Ni, 1980; Hamm, 1999; Mok, 1998, etc). For a comparison between wuxia and fantasy, please see Hui (2021).

  2. 2.

    Proposed by Homi Bhabha, a postcolonial critic, the term “hybridity” generally refers to the creation of new cultural forms and identities that emerge from the interaction between different cultures. It is argued that when two or more cultures meet, they do not remain pure but instead influence and reshape each other, leading to a “third space” where new meanings and identities arise. For more information, please see Bhabha (1994).

  3. 3.

    LCH juxtaposes the life path of Guo Jing and Yang Kang in a parallel storyline, with different focus. Guo Jing’s identity crisis is solved smoothly by his mother, master, and romantic partner; while Yang Kang undergoes intense psychological struggles, with diverging personalities and moral choices.

  4. 4.

    Statistically, this phrase appears four times in LCH. Apart from the one cited here, the other three of it are rendered as “beneath the Nine Spring of the Underworld”. The translators have also listed it as a “note on the text” in the appendix (Jin, 2018, p. 388).

  5. 5.

    Prior to the newly revised edition of LCH in 2003, there were newspaper serial version (original version) from 1957 to 1959, Sanlian Bookstore Edition in 1970 and Ming Ho Publishing Edition from 1979 to 1980, with each version becoming progressively more polished and nuanced.