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The Book of Lieh-Tzu

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THE BOOK OF LIEH-TZU : A Classic of the Tao. Translated by A. C. Graham. 192 pp. New York : Columbia University Press, 1990. ISBN 0-231-07237-6 (pbk.)

A. C. Graham tells us, in his informative Introduction to the present book, that Taoism, which attained maturity in the 3rd century B.C., is "the greatest philosophical tradition of China after Confucianism." Modern scholars are inclined to think that its three key texts were composed in the following order : 1. the Chuang-tzu; 2. the Tao Te Ching (or the Lao-tzu); 3. the Lieh-tzu. The latter, which is the least well-known in the West, is "a collection of stories, sayings and brief essays grouped in eight chapters, each loosely organized around a single theme" (p.1) :

1. Heaven's Gifts (reconciliation with death); 2. The Yellow Emperor (the Taoist principle of action); 3. King Mu of Chou (the idea that life is a dream); 4. Confucius (the futility of the Confucian faith in knowledge); 5. The Questions of T'ang (the universe is infinite in space and time); 6. Endeavour and Destiny; 7. Yang Chu (a chapter on Hedonism "so unlike the rest ... that it must be the work of another hand"); 8. Explaining Conjunctions (the effect of chance conjunctions of events).

Just why the Lieh-tzu isn't so well known I don't know, since it can at times be every bit as sublime as the Lao-tzu, and every bit as joyous and funny as the Chuang-tzu, while the true spirit of Tao is present throughout (except perhaps in the spurious seventh chapter). Since it's also, in some ways, a more approachable text, it would make a good entry point for newcomers to philosophical Taoism.

Graham is one of the West's greatest sinologists and his translation reads very well indeed. I often get the feeling from Graham, however, that he is prevented from fully appreciating the sublimity and what to me is the self-evident truth of philosophical Taoism because he remains trapped in a Western mindset that blinds him to these.

On the one hand he is prepared to concede that "Taoism coincides with the scientific world-view at just those points where the latter most disturbs Westerners rooted in the Christian tradition - the littleness of man in a vast universe; the inhuman Tao which all things follow, without purpose and indifferent to human [desires]; the transience of life; the impossibility of knowing what comes after death; unending change in which the possibility of progress is not even conceived; the relativity of values; [etc.]" (p,13).

On the other hand Graham tells us that : "The Taoist ... cannot be a 'philosopher' in the Western sense, establishing his case by rational argument; he can only guide us in the direction of the Way by aphorisms, poetry, and parable. The talents he needs are those of an artist and not of a thinker" (p.11).

What Graham fails to note is that NO philosopher has ever "established his case by rational argument" because, as is proved every day, rational argument leads only to further rational argument and can never lead to truth. The Taoist would see Graham's "rational argument" as a futile and _excessive_ use of reason, in contrast to his more _reasonable_ use of reason, but to suggest, as Graham does, that because of this the Taoist is not a real "thinker" seems simply a piece of Western ethnocentrism, though Graham's blind spot prevents him from realizing this.

Graham's Introduction, apart from misleading the reader on this essential point, is a fine piece of writing, and his translation is up to his usual high standards. Those who are new to Taoism will probably find it far easier to read and considerably more illuminating than much of what passes for 'philosophy' in the modern world, while those who already know their Chuang-tzu and Lao-tzu will no doubt find it quite enjoyable too. As the third important classic of philosophical Taoism, it becomes a valuable text we would be unwise to overlook.

the "liehtzu" is the least known of the three most important texts of ancient taoist philosophy (the other two being the "tao te ching" and the "chuangtzu") and easily the most accessible. the "liehtzu" doesn't display much of the rambling riddles of the "chuangtzu" and lacks the beautiful, oblique poetry of the "tao te ching," instead choosing to illustrate taoist thought by means of parables and stories. easily the best and most readable guide to a rather slippery philosophy, expertly translated by the always reliable a.c. graham. it's lovely, inspirational, and i've worn my copy thin.

Not as beautifully terse and refined as the Tao Te Ching, but not as ramblingly verbose and unfocused as Chuang Tzu. This translation does not purport to be definitive but the selection of vignettes included gives a nice feel for the Tao and relates it effectively to confucianism and pragmatism. The original is still very popular in China, of course, but as I only read English I can only compare this to other translations... I found it to be both enjoyable and thought-provoking.

In The Book of Lieh-tzu - the third and least-known of the Taoist classics (with the Tao Te Ching and the book of Chuang-tzu) - dreaming is quite literally the royal road to knowledge of higher worlds, and the preferred path into the afterlife.

The most interesting material on dreams is a story of a dream journey by the Yellow Emperor and the collection of tales in the chapter titled "King Mu of Chou".

The Yellow Emperor found in a dream what he had been unable to find in meditation and ascetic practice - full access to a spiritual realm beyond the setting sun, whose inhabitants "ride space as though walking the solid earth". Winged by his knowledge, he reputedly "rose into the sky" at the end of his reign.

The story of King Mu is an interesting variant on the theme that "life is a dream". Holding on to the sleeve of a powerful magician, he travels to an amazing pleasure-palace above the clouds and enjoys himself there tremendously for "twenty or thirty years" before the magician invited him to go to a higher place, which he finds terrifying (because he is clearly not ready!). He is hurled back into his own palace to find only seconds of ordinary time have elapsed.

Instead of dismissing the dream journey as illusion, the author leads us to reflect that the dream world is no less real (or unreal) than the physical world and that for many of us the great game is to approach all experience as if it might be a dream - and have the malleability and magic of the dream world.

Graham has given us a very readable, enjoyable English version of a major Taoist work. Lieh Tzu followed Lao Tzu and Chuang Tzu as the third major Toaist writer, at least as Western readers understand.

This can't be read wholly at face value, as Graham explains. Lieh often co-opted Confucius as a spokesman for Lieh's teachings, a standard technique when reference to the old sages was required. Graham gives plenty of notes showing where that happened, and how. Lieh also took over some of Chuang's teachings, but in Lieh's own way. That was a time when many competing schools fought against each other, but none could fight against the ancient sages or the dominant Confucians - it wasn't subterfuge, but accomodation of Lieh's views to his reading audience.

This is a readable, but often contradictory text. Graham starts each chapter with a bit of explanation. I do wish that he had more clearly set his commentary off from Lieh's text, though. Graham makes up for that lack of clarity by showing which parts of the text were most likely later accretions. For many reasons, these old Chinese texts are often the writing of many hands, not all of whom agreed with each other, and Graham helps us unwind which writing is which.

Through it all, Lieh's voice dominates. He is serene and practical. He often spins tales of immortals flying through clouds and living on dew, but more often describes ferrymen or shepherds. He preaches submission to The Way, but the book also describes a hedonsitic fatalsim - if destiny has already declared my future, then why should I not drink and be merry? This is where Graham's notes are most helpful, in sorting out which is the original text from and which parts were added by unknown authors.

If you have already read the Chuang Tzu, I strongly recommend Lieh. Lao Tzu was a poet, Chuang Tzu was a story-teller, but Lieh Tzu was very earth-bound and practical Graham has done a good job of making the work accessible, while giving the scholar room to study Lieh more deeply.

-- wiredweird

A superb book. Lieh Tzu's philosophy is much closer to Lao Tzu and the Buddhists, than the rebellious Chuang Tzu. This book has everything: discussions about the Tao, spiritual well beingness, universe, physics, robotics, acid-trips, hedonism, Chinese hippies, insanity, and Confucian downfall...all in 200BC.

My favorite chapter is "King Mu of Chou" which is a psychedelic mushroom trip. And what gave it away was the "echoes" and landscape and colors that the king halucinated. McKenna explained similar symptoms in his: The Invisible Landscape.

There is also so some weird alien link to this ancient text. Previously I had read that the Yellow Emperor might have been an alien. Lieh Tzu confirms this when he mentions the robot andriod who acted like a human, but was a working machine inside. This is weird. Remember that the time when this book was written is approx 200 BC.

Another interesting character is Yang Chu, your typical hippy who finds no pleasure except in good looking women, clothing and food. Totally not agreeing with orthodox Taoist thought, but never the less every bit relevant. I love his story about the two brothers who preferred getting drunk and having orgies rather than ruling a country.

This book is perhaps the link between the 60s movement and Taoism.

Again, this is a book about practical taoism. I am not saying that readers should avoid Lao Tzu, but they should also read other taoist books which better explain how to include taosim in everyday life. Do avoid Ms Wong's version though: she takes too much liberty with the text.

I seem to be in a minority here, but I disliked this book so much I didn't even finish it. It now resides at the bottom of my trash can.
Don't get me wrong, I'm somewhat of a "born-again Taoist." The Lao-Tzu saved my life, and between that and Thomas Merton's "The Way of Chuang-Tzu," my entire life philosophy and outlook has shifted radically.
The hard part is conveying the reasons for my distaste of this book. It may be because the only real redeeming parts are those directly copied from the Lao and Chuang Tzu. It may be because, after reading Merton's explaination of the "three in the morning" analogy, I cannot agree with A.C. Graham's translation, both in feeling and in words. Far, far too literal and intellectual. Taoism is, for me, about not trying to understand things, but rather letting them be.
If you are a scholar and writing papers or such, it might be good for you. For the spiritual seeker, if you need more Taoist thought, I would recommened reading different translations of the Lao-Tzu or Chuang-Tzu. It's really all you need.