Learning From Mulan

You may have seen the lovely Disney movie based on the story of Mulan, the girl who dresses as a boy to take her father’s place in the army. Even better is the original story, which is only 300-odd ancient Chinese characters. It begins like this:

Mulan was weaving. She was having trouble concentrating on her work. The previous night she had learned that her elderly father had been called to military service.

What a great beginning! Instantly you care. You could read every short story The New Yorker has published and not find a beginning as great as that. The essence of how a story should begin is so strong it reminds me of something that happened when I was a grad student. My roommates had cooked something with a lot of ginger. So that’s what ginger tastes like, I thought. I understood for the first time why ginger ale was called ginger ale.

9 Responses to “Learning From Mulan”

  1. Andrew Gelman Says:

    Seth: I think that by “you” you mean “I” (that is, “Seth”).

  2. vic Says:

    yeah, agree with Andrew, that opening grips me not at all.

  3. Alex Chernavsky Says:

    I’m fond of this opening paragraph from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas:

    We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like “I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive….” And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas. And a voice was screaming: “Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?”

  4. seth Says:

    Andrew, I take it you don’t like Pauline Kael.

  5. Mike Says:

    Seth, the original story that you link to does not begin with

    “Mulan was weaving. She was having trouble concentrating on her work. The previous night she had learned that her elderly father had been called to military service.”

    Where did you get that phrase? The poem that you link to begins

    “Ji-ji, again ji-ji,
    Mulan faces the door, weaving.
    You can’t hear the sound of the loom’s shuttle,
    You only hear Daughter’s sighs.

    They ask Daughter who’s in her thought,
    They ask Daughter who’s on her memory.
    “No one is on Daughter’s thought,
    No one is on Daughter’s memory.”

    Which beginning are describing as the fantastic beginning?

    Which beginning are the other responders reading or responding to ?

  6. Mike Says:

    Which beginning are *you describing as the fantastic beginning?

  7. seth Says:

    Mike, I was summing up the beginning to emphasize the important elements. They don’t depend on the exact words.

  8. Andrew Gelman Says:

    Seth: As a statistician I prefer precision. I try to use “I” when I mean “I” and “you” when I mean “you.” I don’t always succeed, but I try. If you read your very own blog above, I think you might agree with me that the parts that are strongest are the “I” sentences and the parts that are the weakest are the “you” statements. The statement about “every short story The New Yorker has published” seems a bit silly to me too. I understand that you’re engaging in hyperbole, but it still seems silly.

  9. seth Says:

    Andrew, Pauline Kael wrote like this: using “you” to describe visceral reactions (“you can’t look away”). She had a reason for writing this way, and so do I: because I am trying to say that I believe others will have similar reactions. To use “I” would not convey this. In other words I didn’t mean exactly “I” so I didn’t use “I”. My comment about New Yorker stories was meant to say that among the several hundred New Yorker stories I’ve read, I can’t think of even one whose opening had even close to the same effect. Maybe I should have put like that, you might be right.