Chapter 8: Opposition Between Word and Meaning: Irony
(Irony)

Section One: The Definition and Function of Irony

1. Irony: Opposition Between Word and Meaning

The so-called “opposition between word and meaning” refers to a situation in which the surface meaning expressed outwardly and the hidden true intention within are exactly opposite to each other. In other words, the surface meaning and the deep meaning intended to be expressed present a paradox in which positive and negative values stand in opposition. “Inversion” possesses a mocking nature. Among rhetorical figures, those that may be used to express ridicule and satire include exaggeration, imitation, pun, paradox, and feibai. As for those used to express “opposition between word and meaning,” there are “paradox,” “irony,” and “contrastive inversion.” “Paradox” has already been included in the chapter “Semantic Misconnection,” while “contrastive inversion” is discussed in detail under “juxtaposition” in the chapter “Contrast.” Therefore, this section discusses only “irony.”

1. Irony: The Oldest Art of Speech

“Inversion” includes “inverted diction” and “ironic speech,” referring to the condition in which “the surface meaning of the author’s words is opposite to the true intention the author inwardly wishes to express.”1 “In order to express their thoughts more profoundly, more forcefully, and more interestingly, people often speak words opposite to their true intentions and write texts opposite to their real meanings.”2 As one of the oldest arts of speech, the original rhetorical meaning of irony lies in “opposition between word and meaning.” That is to say, the language used by the speaker (or writer) stands in direct opposition in meaning to the latent intention beneath it. Applied in literary creation, it is a mode of expression used to convey an inner (deep-level) meaning that is entirely different from (and usually opposite to) the surface meaning of the words.

The functions of irony include:
(1) Revealing and attacking darkness and ugliness.
(2) Expressing and venting dissatisfaction and emotions.
(3) Creating a humorous and witty atmosphere.
(4) Indirectly conveying complex emotions such as shyness, joy, and affection.3

1. The Historical Origins of Irony
2. Tracing the Origins of Irony

The rhetorical figure of “irony” has very early origins in the history of Chinese literary criticism. In The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons (Wenxin Diaolong), in the chapter “Humor and Hidden Meaning,” it says: “All humorous speech is popular and easily understood, and all delight in laughter.… Its intention lies in subtle satire, and therein lies its worth.”4 Humorous speech is a kind of witty writing containing satire. It causes people to laugh and resembles jokes, yet its function lies in allegorical admonition, differing from jokes that merely provoke laughter. Liu Xie believed that humorous speech “is inelegant in essence and easily degenerates in its excesses,” pointing out that humorous expression should possess the functions of “correction,” “benefit to contemporary use,” and “satirical admonition,” thereby exerting a positive effect of warning and moral persuasion.

In the West, the word “irony” originated from Greek and originally referred to a stock character type in ancient Greek drama, namely “the feigned ignorant one.” Such a person speaks foolishly before an opponent who believes himself superior, yet in the end these foolish words are proven true, causing the supposedly clever opponent to make a complete fool of himself. Thus, the fundamental nature of irony lies in the contradiction between appearance and reality, as well as ignorance of this contradiction. Therefore, the ironist feigns ignorance and speaks contrary to his true thoughts: what is spoken is false appearance, yet what is implied is truth.5 Later, the term came to be narrowly understood as meaning “satire” or “mockery,” and was used as a rhetorical method.

Ancient literati and refined scholars also delighted in using this “mode of expression in which appearance and fact are opposite”6 in poetry and lyrics. Sometimes it was used for “self-mockery,” as in: “Plowing the southern fields, reclining upon the eastern mountain, I have experienced much of the world’s ways and human feelings. Leisurely reflecting upon the past: the worthy one is he, the foolish one is I—why contend over anything?” (Yuan Dynasty, Guan Hanqing, Four Pieces of Jade). By saying others are wise while he himself is foolish, the poet lightly mocks himself; not only is it harmless, but it also allows the world to know that he harbors no desire to compete with others—why not enjoy such a thing? Or it may be used in “outward suppression and inward praise,” as in: “The brocade-like rocks by the clear river are heartbreakingly beautiful; tender grass and lush flowers fill the eyes in dazzling profusion. To this day people still sing of the governor who departed, and those who visit this place know not to return.” (Tang Dynasty, Du Fu, Pavilion of Prince Teng). “Heartbreaking” is ordinarily an expression of sorrow and grief, yet the “heartbreaking beauty” in this poem and the phrase “flowers shed tears at the feeling of the times” (Du Fu’s Spring View) create entirely different atmospheres. Judging from the semantic relationship of the context, “heartbreaking” here is merely a harmless “inverted diction,” meaning “unstoppable greenery” or “verdant lushness,” used to heighten and render vivid the spring excursion. Or it may be used for “teasing satire,” as in: “One should pity the wooden clogs imprinting the green moss; lightly knocking on the brushwood gate, it long remains unopened. The spring scenery filling the garden cannot be contained; a single red apricot branch stretches out beyond the wall.” (Song Dynasty, Ye Shaoweng, A Visit to the Garden Unmet). In this poem, the apricot blossom ironically satirizes women who appear outwardly reserved and virtuous, yet inwardly overflow with springtime passion. Although the mocking implication is strong, it is also remarkably vivid.

1. Irony and the “New Criticism”

Since the rise of Romantic literary theory in the early nineteenth century, the meaning of the term “irony” expanded. The “New Criticism” movement that arose in America during the 1930s widely employed this concept, causing its meaning to expand dramatically. Although, as Wayne Clayson Booth (1921–2005) pointed out, “critics have never reached a consensus regarding what irony is,” the New Critics nevertheless made beneficial efforts in this regard. Cleanth Brooks, the principal expositor of irony theory, stated: “Irony bears the pressure of context; therefore it exists in the poetry of every age, even in simple lyric poetry. Irony is a method of determining attitude through qualification.” Brooks elevated “irony” in poetry into “an ironic structure composed of opposites and possessing tension,” thereby arguing from the perspective of creation that “all good poetry—that is, poetry possessing complex connotations—contains this contradictory relationship of opposition and unity,” while from the perspective of appreciation, “a good poem must withstand a reading in terms of ironic meaning.” I. A. Richards (1893–1979), meanwhile, believed that “the introduction of opposites is a supplementary impulse of humanity,” and that this situation called “irony” is “the common characteristic of all great poetry, and therefore becomes a necessary condition of poetic creation.” He emphasized: “The various aspects that ordinarily interfere with, conflict with, exclude, and cancel one another are, in the hands of the poet, combined into a stable equilibrium.”7 In other words, when poets create, they must consider not only the complexity of their own aesthetic experience, but also the difficulty of controlling language. Through sustained effort, poets rely upon implication and indirect suggestion to preserve the freshness of words.

In “modernist” literary works inclined toward intellectual expression, “irony” is a rhetorical strategy frequently employed by authors to express their attitudes (satirical) or ideological positions (critical) toward certain people, events, and objects within the phenomenal world, thereby carrying out the author’s intention of condemnation or denunciation.

Within Chinese “rhetoric,” “irony” belongs to a figure under “methods of expression.” Functionally, it tends toward the “narrative” aspect, differing markedly from “formal designs” such as repetition, gradation, and parallelism, which tend toward the “expressive” function. In rhetoric, “irony” is not easily defined comprehensively. According to Huang Qingxuan’s classification, “irony” is broadly divided into “verbal irony” and “situational irony,” while “inversion” is merely one type within “verbal irony.” “Inversion” may further be subdivided into “inverted diction” and “ironic speech.” “Inverted diction” means expressing a positive meaning in a reversed way, without satirical implication, and is quite close to “intentional self-contradiction” (paradox). “Ironic speech” also reverses positive meaning, but contains satirical elements within it.8 On this basis, Professor Huang seems to have omitted the category of “speaking ironic words straightforwardly.” In the author’s understanding, “ironic speech” should refer to “speaking ironic words straightforwardly,” because the straightforward expression arises from deliberate insincerity, and therefore contains the intention of satire and ridicule.

Irony may be divided into two levels:

1. Rhetorical irony: achieving the purpose of irony through lexical choice and arrangement that “feigns ignorance.”
2. Dramatic irony: revealing irony through contradictions in plot, environment, characters, and related elements—what Professor Huang refers to as “situational irony.”

“Situational irony” generally appears in novels, drama, and film. In modern poetry, many works possess complete narrative structures (characters, space-time settings, and plot), and situational irony likewise exists within them. According to the author’s understanding, “inverted diction” means “speaking straightforward words in reverse,” often functioning as modest self-deprecation or self-mockery, with relatively weak satirical meaning. “Ironic speech,” however, means “speaking ironic words straightforwardly,” and clearly contains the implication of satire, ridicule, and mockery.

Irony in modern poetry is mostly “rhetorical irony,” though poets occasionally combine it with “dramatic irony.” “Dramatic irony” is mostly used within broader paragraph situations, or even in the characters, scenes, and plots of an entire poem. For example, in Ya Xian’s poem The Colonel, the poet employs the contrast between “the first half of life: sacrificing and dedicating oneself to the nation” and “the second half of life: impoverished reality,” using the immense disparity between past and present scenes to construct a powerful “dramatic irony” throughout the entire poem, thereby indirectly suggesting meanings beyond the words and resonances beyond the strings.

Section Two: The Semantic Structure of Irony

“Rhetorical irony” is applied to linguistic materials such as words and sentences, and may be further subdivided into: (1) “inverted diction”: speaking straightforward words in reverse, and (2) “ironic speech”: speaking ironic words straightforwardly. “Inversion uses words contrary to their intended meaning and possesses two layers of meaning, surface and inner. The surface meaning is the inherent meaning of the words themselves, while the inner meaning is that bestowed by the specific context and surrounding text; the writer’s or speaker’s true intention lies in the inner layer.”9 Irony precisely makes use of the “semantic contrast” between “positive/negative” and “surface/inner” in order to create a strong contrastive effect, thereby highlighting meaning and intensifying emotion. Whether the author intends to reveal the contradictions of human nature or the paradoxes of reality, or intends to emphasize the conflict between the “appearance/essence” of things, the speaker (or writer) employs irony to deliberately construct the two semantic layers of “surface/inner,” stimulating listeners (or readers) to seek out the speaker’s (or writer’s) true intention. This often achieves effects that are more interesting and more engaging than “speaking plainly and directly.”

As for what is called “irony,” the author believes it possesses the following three characteristics:
(1) The nature (essential characteristic) of “irony” should simultaneously possess rebelliousness (contradiction, defiance, negation) and satirical admonition (ridicule, mockery).
(2) According to different levels, the purposes of “irony” include revelation, warning (a function of reminding), and criticism (functions of value condemnation or value negation).
(3) The function of “irony” lies in prompting readers to further seek out the “true meaning” hidden by the author behind the reverse side of the words, and to reflect upon the immense disparity between this true meaning and the phenomenal world described by the textual surface.

Section Three: The Forms of Expression of Irony

Rhetorical irony is generally divided into two categories: “inverted diction” (speaking straightforward words in reverse) and “ironic speech” (speaking ironic words straightforwardly).

1. Inverted Diction: Namely “Speaking Straightforward Words in Reverse”

Because the situation at the time makes it difficult to speak frankly and openly, opposite words are used to express one’s true intention and genuine feelings. Inverted diction generally carries little satirical meaning; instead, it often contains praise. Although it may contain teasing implications, it remains humorous and witty.

Among Taiwan’s modern poets, Ya Xian is exceptionally outstanding in his use of “irony.” Not only does he employ it with great frequency, but the density of its usage (its proportion among the various rhetorical devices and expressive techniques in his poetry) is also extremely high; to this day, no one has surpassed him in this regard. Ya Xian said: “In subject matter, I love to express the suffering of little people, self-mockery, and the use of certain dramatic perspectives and short-story techniques. In the collection Side Profiles, almost all are slices of the lives of real people.”10 Indeed, in the subject matter of “character poems,” Ya Xian is mostly concerned with inconspicuous “little people” from the lower and middle strata of society, and their tragic encounters in real life. Only secondarily does he concern himself with “great figures” such as rulers—figures of a highly controversial nature—and the utterly absurd words and actions they display:

Ya Xian, “The Madwoman”11

My brows are furrowed for antiquity
Seriously furrowed…
Who told you to tear the lotus-colored blouse apart, to distribute nakedness
Among beloved and unloved men alike
Men in narrow flannel trousers
Men who play tennis, men who forget after kissing
Faithless men. Only Maria, you do not know
I truly worry over whom my soul should belong to

The feeling this poem gives the author is one of “tears within laughter,” with emotions intricately intertwined. The poet deliberately adopts the role of the “madwoman” in the first person. Naturally, a madwoman’s mental state fluctuates between clarity and confusion, so the poet’s tone at times must deliberately be “disjointed and upside-down,” while at other times it must be “utterly serious.” Although the disjointed language provokes laughter, even when she seriously says, “My brows are furrowed for antiquity / Seriously furrowed,” or “I truly worry over whom my soul should belong to,” no reader would take her serious words as truth. The atmosphere of the entire poem is humorous, with the madwoman’s monologue gradually unfolding the plot section by section. Yet behind the story, the poet’s intention is humane and compassionate. The poet knows that our society has never treated “madwomen” and “abandoned women”—these humble and vulnerable people—with fairness and dignity. The poet wishes readers to “reflect amidst laughter” upon how we ought to help these humble and vulnerable people within society.

Ya Xian, “The Circus Clown”12

Beneath the purely sorrowful straw hat
The ladies laugh
Their Chinese pagodas trembling upon folded fans
The ladies laugh
Laughing at those things mixed within me
Between giraffes and antelopes
And she still swings upon the swing
Beneath the rope afflicted with appendicitis
Watching me like a gloomy nail
Still kissing the tightrope walkers
Still falling
Still refusing my tiny fragment of spring

This is another compassionate “character poem.” Unlike “The Madwoman,” however, Ya Xian restrains his mocking and scolding tone, allowing the circus clown—who always wears a red necktie in this story—to slowly recount his own background and circumstances. Since childhood, the clown has left home and traveled around the world with the circus in order to survive. Amid the audience’s laughter, even physical illness affords him no rest. “Laughing at those things mixed within me / Between giraffes and antelopes,” the ladies’ laughter contrasts with the clown’s inner melancholy. Yet the clown must forcibly suppress his emotions to cooperate with the performance: “Still kissing the tightrope walkers,” striving to win the audience’s laughter. Within this environment of “external warmth and inner coldness,” the clown can only relieve pressure and emotion by mocking himself, continuing to force smiles in order to entertain the audience.

Zheng Jiongming, “Dog”13

I am not an honest dog
Because honest dogs do not bark
On such a pitch-black night
My master puts a muzzle upon me
So that I cannot open my mouth to bark
And awaken everyone’s beautiful dreams
—I understand his painstaking intentions
Yet I cannot help but bark
As an awakened dog
Even if I cannot bark aloud
I still must bark, bark continuously
Bark within the deep valley of my heart
Bark from nightfall until dawn
I know I am not an honest dog
Because honest dogs do not bark
On this pitch-black night

This poem uses the form of “personification through objectification” and employs the technique of “speaking straightforward words in reverse.” By condemning himself as a dishonest dog, the poet expresses the grievances he himself suffers. The poet first “imagines” (objectifies) himself as a “dog,” narrating from the first-person perspective of “I.” “I” am not an honest dog because my master wants me neither to bark nor cry out, not to disturb others’ dreams, yet I stubbornly insist that “as an awakened dog,” I would rather bark while wearing a muzzle than remain silent and become an honest dog. Naturally, therefore, I do not receive my master’s affection.

1. Ironic Speech: Namely “Speaking Ironic Words Straightforwardly”

One deliberately conceals emotions of dissatisfaction and contempt, using outwardly serious and praising language on the surface in order to indirectly express inner ridicule and satire.

Ya Xian, “Khrushchev”14

A good man, yes, Khrushchev
He suffers from a severe ear disease
Therefore he must rely upon the secret police
He loves to govern the people with barbed wire
He loves to cleanse the nation with blood
Other than obedience
He never concerns himself with the affairs of ordinary citizens
He truly and honestly is a good man

Khrushchev (Nikita Khrushchev), General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, ruled for eleven years (1953–1964). A well-known joke about him circulated widely: “It is said that Khrushchev produced some propaganda films promoting government policies and forced the people to watch them. He very much wanted to know the public reaction, so he disguised himself and went incognito… He arrived at a movie theater in Moscow, and when the film ended, the entire audience rose enthusiastically to applaud. Seeing this, Khrushchev felt extremely satisfied. At that moment, the person beside him suddenly nudged his shoulder and whispered softly: ‘Hey! Do you have a death wish? Why aren’t you standing up and applauding quickly? There are many secret police around here!’”

In this “character poem,” the poet begins the second, third, and fourth stanzas with words of praise, calling Khrushchev a good man. Yet the content of each stanza is clearly a portrayal of negative character traits and conduct. As a result, the opening line of each stanza sounds even more “grating” than a lie. Of course, the poet is not deliberately lying openly or contradicting himself absurdly. Rather, he first utters an insincere “ironic statement” as a major premise, then uses many negative descriptions as minor premises to negate and overturn (subvert) the major premise. As for the “conclusion,” it is left to the readers to “contemplate.”

Ya Xian, “The Colonel”15

That is purely another kind of rose
Born from flames
In the buckwheat fields they encountered the greatest battle
And one of his legs bid farewell in 1943
He once heard history and laughter
What is immortality?
Cough medicine razors last month’s rent and so forth
And beneath the sporadic battles of his wife’s sewing machine
He feels that the only thing capable of capturing him
Is the sun

As a poet with a military background, Ya Xian, after passing through the baptism of war, came to deeply realize the true nature of war’s cruelty. Through poetry, he exposes this cruel essence, employing a satirical tone to ridicule and mock that era’s blind faith in war and the absurd militaristic thinking of its great historical figures. Because he personally experienced the age of warfare, although Ya Xian ridicules and mocks war—even subverting the values of the entire wartime era—readers nevertheless gladly accept this “deadpan comedian-style” form of “black humor.”

This poem, “The Colonel,” is a sketch of the life of a colonel wounded on the battlefield and discharged from military service: in his youth he galloped across battlefields, losing a leg in combat, and because of disability he was forced into early retirement. Yet the nation failed to fulfill its responsibility of caring for wounded and retired soldiers, causing him to be tormented by the hardships of real life after retirement. Retiring with the rank of colonel, according to existing laws he ought to have enjoyed a lifelong pension. Yet even while receiving such a pension, this retired colonel still lives in poverty. One can easily imagine, then, the post-retirement lives of lower-ranking officers and soldiers.

“He once heard history and laughter”—this sentence is embedded between the first half of the poem (the hectic first half of his military life) and the second half. It is a transitional phrase carrying the meaning of self-reflection. At the same time, it serves as a vivid “ligament” linking the two sections together, and also as the only major turning point in the colonel’s life. “History” and “(mocking) laughter” signify the oppositional contradiction between “past efforts and present fate.” It is the “present reality” completely negating “past struggles,” filled with dramatic contradiction and conflict. The focal point of this contradiction and conflict is precisely where the poem’s “tension” reaches its greatest intensity.

Most of Ya Xian’s poetic works possess a story structure, performing the plots of “absurd drama,” filled with dramatic effects (and humorous effects) as well as paradoxical tension. The protagonist figures frequently possess tragicomic personalities filled with helplessness. Because he excels in the use of “irony,” and because his language is sharp and witty, his works everywhere display abrupt and comical “black humor.”

His character poems such as “The Colonel,” “The Madwoman,” “The Abandoned Woman,” and “Khrushchev” all adopt “irony” as their principal rhetorical device in portraying character personalities. Among them, the poem “Khrushchev” carries especially deep implications, virtually becoming a sketched replica of Chiang Kai-shek and his son during that period. Compared with Luo Fu, another “Genesis” member who practiced surrealism devoted to nihilistic aesthetics and excelled in exaggeration and surrealistic techniques, Ya Xian—whose poems often display mischievous humor—seems even more capable of immediately capturing readers’ attention, scratching the readers’ itch, stirring their sensitive nerves of laughter, and gaining recognition and resonance. “Irony” became his principal technical characteristic and distinct stylistic signature.

Among the poets of the “Genesis Poetry Society,” who expressed “intellectual spirit” and “freehand style” through “surrealistic techniques,” Ya Xian—who excelled in the rhetorical technique of “irony”—was one of the very few rational poets possessing both humanitarian concern and realist spirit. He excelled in using “irony” to pierce and expose events and lower-class figures within real life, while simultaneously embodying value criticism and rational condemnation. Perhaps precisely because of this personality trait of caring about reality and showing concern for society and humanity, he appeared somewhat incompatible within the “Genesis” poet group. The feeling was as though a single stalk of buckwheat had mistakenly been planted amidst a garden filled with brilliantly colorful flowers; the loneliness can easily be imagined.

The “Li Poetry Society” gathered together many earlier-generation native Taiwanese poets. During the long martial-law period (1950–1987), they voiced dissatisfaction with the Nationalist government through modern poetry. The poets understood well that these “poems” might touch the authorities’ sensitive “political nerves.” Therefore, the poets either used a “tragic” tone to recount the experiences of themselves or relatives and friends around them, such as Ming Zhe’s “Gazing Toward Green Island,” Li Kuixian’s “Resident Bird,” Li Minyong’s “Prisoner of War,” Chen Fangming’s “Carry Me Home,” and Yang Ziqiao’s “Elegy of the Siraya Tribe”; or they deliberately used the form of “object-poetry” to package emotions of dissatisfaction, vaguely expressing satire and criticism, such as Chen Qianwu’s “Cryptogams” and Li Kuixian’s “Bottle Palm.” Let us look at Li Kuixian’s object-poem (personified-object poem) “Parrot,” which precisely expresses itself through the form of “speaking ironic words straightforwardly”:

Li Kuixian, “Parrot”16

“My master treats me well!”
My master taught me only this one sentence
“My master treats me well!”
From morning till night I learned this one sentence
Whenever guests come
I loudly say:
“My master treats me well!”
My master becomes happy
And gives me good food and drink
The guests are also delighted
And praise me for being obedient and clever
Sometimes my master also
Proudly says to me:
“Whatever you wish to say, just say it.”
I still continue repeating:
“My master treats me well!”

Like Zheng Jiongming’s “Dog,” this poem also uses the form of “personification through objectification,” yet it employs the technique of “speaking ironic words straightforwardly” in order to express satire and dissatisfaction toward the Nationalist government’s “false freedom of speech.” The poet first “imagines” (objectifies) himself as a “parrot,” narrating from the first-person perspective of “I.” “I” am an obedient and clever parrot who knows how to read expressions and observe moods, clearly understanding that the “master” only likes to hear “pleasant words.” Even when the master deliberately tests “me” and encourages me to speak my true thoughts, I will not be deceived or fooled, because “I” have already fully grasped the master’s intentions. Therefore, “I” receive the master’s affection and live a comfortable life of good food and drink. The “satirical nature” of this poem lies in the fact that the poet: (1) through the parrot’s mouth, “speaks ironic words straightforwardly,” openly praising that “my master treats me well”; and (2) never, on the literal level, exposes through the parrot (the obedient subject) the hypocritical mask of the “master” (the ruler), never openly piercing this fraudulent illusion of freedom of speech, thereby allowing this situation—in which “those above have policies while those below devise countermeasures, and superiors and inferiors alike collude in deceit”—to continue being maintained.

Chen Li, “Dictator”17

They are law enforcers who arbitrarily tamper with grammar
Singular, yet habitually using plural forms
Objects, yet leaping into the position of subjects
When young, longing for the future tense
When old, infatuated with the past tense
No translation required
Rejecting change
Fixed sentence pattern
Fixed sentence pattern
Fixed sentence pattern
The only transitive verb: suppression

Even those of the “postwar generation” who did not personally experience the “February 28 Incident” and the “Village Clearance Campaign,” so long as they grew up before the 1980s, would not feel unfamiliar with the “White Terror” imposed upon the people during the Nationalist government’s martial-law period, as reflected in Li Minyong’s “Martial Law Scenery” and Chen Li’s “Dictator.”

Although Chen Li was not a “Li Poetry Society” poet, like most native Taiwanese poets of the “postwar generation,” he maintained a direct and unflinching attitude toward the “February 28 Incident” and the “White Terror.” The subject of another of Chen Li’s poems, “February,” is precisely the “February 28 Incident.”

“Singular, yet habitually using plural forms / Objects, yet leaping into the position of subjects; when young, longing for the future tense / when old, infatuated with the past tense”—although these two short sections contain elements of irony, the poem’s components of “condemnation and accusation” far exceed those of “irony and ridicule,” especially the final line, “The only transitive verb: suppression,” which directly criticizes the cruel and tyrannical methods of rule employed by the Nationalist government authorities.

[Notes]

〈1〉Huang Qingxuan, Rhetoric, Taipei: Sanmin, 2002, p. 455.

〈2〉Cheng Weijun, Tang Zhongyang, and Xiang Hongye, eds., Comprehensive Mirror of Rhetoric, Beijing: China Youth Press, 1991, pp. 690–691.

〈3〉Lu Jiaxiang and Chi Taining, eds., Dictionary of Examples and Explanations of Rhetorical Methods, Hangzhou: Zhejiang Education Press, 1990, pp. 75–76.

〈4〉Liu Xie, The Literary Mind and the Carving of Dragons, annotated by Zhou Zhenfu, Taipei: Liren, p. 275.

〈5〉Cheng Menghui, Modern Western Aesthetics (Volume One), Beijing: People’s Fine Arts Publishing House, 2001, p. 245.

〈6〉Shen Qian, Rhetoric (Volume One), Taipei: National Open University, 1991, p. 260.

〈7〉The introduction to “New Criticism” in this section references Cheng Menghui, Modern Western Aesthetics (Volume One), Beijing: People’s Fine Arts Publishing House, 2001, pp. 244–245.

〈8〉Huang Qingxuan, Rhetoric, Taipei: Sanmin, 2002, p. 456.

〈9〉Yang Chunlin and Liu Fan, eds., Comprehensive Dictionary of Chinese Rhetorical Art, Xi’an: Shaanxi People’s Publishing House, 1991, p. 128.

〈10〉Quoted from Xiao Xiao’s article “On Ya Xian’s Abyss”; see the website: http://www.worldone.com.tw/bookmark/sky/09/09_02.htm

〈11〉Quoted from Ya Xian, Collected Poems of Ya Xian, Taipei: Hongfan, 1981, pp. 157–160.

〈12〉Quoted from Ya Xian, Collected Poems of Ya Xian, Taipei: Hongfan, 1981, pp. 152–154.

〈13〉Quoted from Zheng Jiongming, ed., Mixed Chorus, Kaohsiung: Chunhui, 1992, pp. 648–649.

〈14〉Quoted from Ya Xian, Collected Poems of Ya Xian, Taipei: Hongfan, 1981, pp. 161–164.

〈15〉Quoted from Ya Xian, Collected Poems of Ya Xian, Taipei: Hongfan, 1981, pp. 145–146.

〈16〉Quoted from Zheng Jiongming, ed., Mixed Chorus, Kaohsiung: Chunhui, 1992, p. 351.

〈17〉Quoted from Chen Li, Selected Poems of Chen Li, Taipei: Chiuko, 2001, pp. 74–75.