The Wallet of Kai Lung and its two sequels, Kai Lung’s Golden Hours (1922), and Kai Lung Unrolls His Mat (1928), were written by “Ernest Bramah.” “Ernest Bramah” was the pen name of Ernest Bramah Smith (1869-1942), who wrote successfully in several genres, including mystery fiction; his Max Carrados stories are still well-thought-of. But Bramah’s best are the Kai Lung stories, which are delightful arch fun, the equal in their way of P.G. Wodehouse's Jeeves stories.

The Kai Lung stories are set in an ahistorical China That Never Was, at some point during the Qing dynasty, when matchlocks are present but when most of Chinese society is still rural and dominated by cruel and venal Mandarins. Kai Lung is a wandering storyteller who seems to get into trouble just by existing and who uses his extreme cleverness and his stock of stories to get out of trouble. Kai Lung claims to have a story for every occasion, and when pressed demonstrates that his boast is true. His stories are part myth, part philosophy, and part comedy, and are always entertaining.

The Kai Lung stories are charming and hugely enjoyable. Bramah took a pseudo-Chinese idiom and made it uniquely his own:

The sun had dipped behind the western mountains before Kai Lung, with twenty li or more still between him and the city of Knei Yang, entered the camphor-laurel forest which stretched almost to his destination. No person of consequence ever made the journey unattended; but Kai Lung professed to have no fear, remarking with extempore wisdom, when warned at the previous village, that a worthless garment covered one with better protection than that afforded by an army of bowmen. Nevertheless, when within the gloomy aisles, Kai Lung more than once wished himself back at the village, or safely behind the mud walls of Knei Yang; and, making many vows concerning the amount of prayer-paper which he would assuredly burn when he was actually through the gates, he stepped out more quickly, until suddenly, at a turn in the glade, he stopped altogether, while the watchful expression into which he had unguardedly dropped at once changed into a mask of impassiveness and extreme unconcern. From behind the next tree projected a long straight rod, not unlike a slender bamboo at a distance, but, to Kai Lung's all-seeing eye, in reality the barrel of a matchlock, which would come into line with his breast if he took another step. Being a prudent man, more accustomed to guile and subservience to destiny than to force, he therefore waited, spreading out his hands in proof of his peaceful acquiescence, and smiling cheerfully until it should please the owner of the weapon to step forth. This the unseen did a moment later, still keeping his gun in an easy and convenient attitude, revealing a stout body and a scarred face, which in conjunction made it plain to Kai Lung that he was in the power of Lin Yi, a noted brigand of whom he had heard much in the villages.

“O illustrious person,” said Kai Lung very earnestly, “this is evidently an unfortunate mistake. Doubtless you were expecting some exalted Mandarin to come and render you homage, and were preparing to overwhelm him with gratified confusion by escorting him yourself to your well-appointed abode. Indeed, I passed such a one on the road, very richly appareled, who inquired of me the way to the mansion of the dignified and upright Lin Yi. By this time he is perhaps two or three li toward the east.”

“However distinguished a Mandarin may be, it is fitting that I should first attend to one whose manners and accomplishments betray him to be of the Royal House,” replied Lin Yi, with extreme affability. “Precede me, therefore, to my mean and uninviting hovel, while I gain more honour than I can reasonably bear by following closely in your elegant footsteps, and guarding your Imperial person with this inadequate but heavily-loaded weapon.”¹

“The occupation is a dignified one, being to no great degree removed from that of the Sages who compiled The Books,” remarked the maiden, with an encouraging smile. “Are there many stories known to your retentive mind?”

“In one form or another, all that exist are within my mental grasp,” admitted Kai Lung modestly. “Thus equipped, there is no arising emergency for which I am unprepared.”

“There are other things that I would learn of your craft. What kind of story is the most favourably received, and the one whereby your collecting bowl is the least ignored?”

“That depends on the nature and condition of those who stand around, and therein lies much that is essential to the art,” replied Kai Lung, not without an element of pride. “Should the company be chiefly formed of the illiterate and the immature of both sexes, stories depicting the embarrassment of unnaturally round-bodied mandarins, the unpremeditated flight of eccentrically-garbed passers-by into vats of powdered rice, the despair of guardians of the street when assailed by showers of eggs and overripe lo-quats, or any other variety of humiliating pain inflicted upon the innocent and unwary, never fail to win approval. The prosperous and substantial find contentment in hearing of the unassuming virtues and frugal lives of the poor and unsuccessful. Those of humble origin, especially tea-house maidens and the like, are only really at home among stories of the exalted and quick-moving, the profusion of their robes, the magnificence of their palaces, and the general high-minded depravity of their lives. Ordinary persons require stories dealing lavishly with all the emotions, so that they may thereby have a feeling of sufficiency when contributing to the collecting bowl.”²

These passages give a good idea of Bramah's virtues and his primary failing. The passages have an immediately effective evocation of a “Chinese” atmosphere. That Bramah never visited China, and that the China he conjures up is a romanticized, sentimentalized version of the real thing, is true but not particularly relevant, so effective is Bramah in casting his spell and creating the universe of Kai Lung. The passages show the substantial ironic humor of the stories, in Kai Lung's attempt to divert Lin Yi, Lin Yi's comment about “this inadequate but heavily-loaded weapon,” and Kai Ling’s description of which stories satisfy which audiences. The passages have the witty, indirect, flowery, overly-polite dialogue. Bramah's characters never say directly what can be said in a roundabout manner, a tendency which becomes more pronounced in the later stories. The passages show the density of Bramah’s text. This can be off-putting. Bramah's sentences sometimes run on at length, and his sentence construction, intended to convey the Kai Lung-esque dialogue and description, can occasionally be awkward and difficult to follow. But the effort is certainly worth it, for Bramah's stories are wonderfully entertaining. The passages quoted above do not include the uniquely Kai Lung-esque aphorisms: “Beware, O contumacious Lung, ‘However high the tree the shortest axe can reach its trunk.’”³ “He who can grasp Opportunity as she slips by does not need a lucky dream."⁴ “He who flies on an eagle’s back must sooner or later drop off.”⁵

It can reasonably be asked whether this sort of thing is racist. It is true that Bramah’s China is ahistorical. But Bramah has a keen grasp of human nature, and if his characters are usually two-dimensional they are at least characters rather than stereotypes. Bramah had a great affection for China and the Chinese, and the Kai Lung stories lack any deliberate racism. And the distinctive mode of speech of the stories springs from historical fact. When Bramah was a young man he met several well-bred Chinese of the upper classes. Their manner of speech, which was ritualized and excessively polite, avoided any display of ego (“I” was never used, always “this person”), paid the listener elaborate compliments, insincerely insulted the speaker, and involved as much circumlocution as possible. The Kai Lung mode of speech was not Bramah’s creation, but had its roots in how some Chinese actually spoke.

One of the things the modern reader will take from the Kai Lung stories is the sense that Bramah was simply having fun writing them. Even when the plots are more serious, as when Kai Lung faces death or when Kai’s wife is kidnapped and he must save her, Bramah indulges in wordplay and fanciful stories with such joyous aplomb that the sense of fun is communicated to the reader. The Kai Lung stories are always amusing, and at least once per story there is a laugh-out-loud moment. This accompanies clever word-play, memorable aphorisms, and good, solid storytelling.

Kai Lung himself is an older man, saddened from a bad youthful experience involving a false accusation of plagiarism, and poor due to his wandering lifestyle–he relies on donations from his listeners for his living money. He describes himself this way:

Indeed, the person who is now before you is none other than the outcast Kai Lung, the story-teller, one of degraded habits and no very distinguished or reputable ancestors. His friends are few, and mostly of the criminal class; his wealth is nor more than some six or eight cash, concealed in his left sandal; and his entire stock-in-trade consists of a few unendurable and badly told stories....⁶

But Kai Lung is being falsely modest here. (As well as safe; he says this in response to the prodding of Lin Yi). At other times he is tart in putting down those who challenge the originality or creativity of his stories, and he is clever in doing so. Kai Lung is wise in his assessment of people, adroit in his handling of them, and inspired in his storytelling. He is at his best when his life is challenged. In Kai Lung’s Golden Hours and Kai Lung Unrolls His Mat Kai’s happiness is challenged by the malign Ming Shu, the scribe for the Mandarin Shan Tien. In Kai Lung’s Golden Hours Kai is unjustly imprisoned and put on trial and forced to pull a Scheherazade act to save his neck. In Kai Lung Unrolls His Mat Ming Shu attempts to avenge himself on Kai by kidnapping Kai’s wife, the lovely and wise Hwa-Mei. In both collections Kai rises to the challenge, telling his best and most clever stories and skillfully outwitting his enemies.

Print: Ernest Bramah, The Wallet of Kai Lung. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986.

¹ Ernest Bramah, “The Transmutation of Ling,” in The Wallet of Kai Lung (London: G. Richards, 1900), 1-3.

² Ernest Bramah, “The Encountering of Six Within a Wood,” in Kai Lung’s Golden Hours (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), 10-11.

³ Ernest Bramah, “The Story of Hien and the Chief Examiner,” in Kai Lung’s Golden Hours (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), 247.

⁴ Ernest Bramah, “The Story of Lao Ting and the Luminous Insect,” in Kai Lung’s Golden Hours (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985), 90.

⁵ Ernest Bramah, “The Story of Lin Ho and the Treasure of Fang-tso,” in Kai Lung Unrolls His Mat, Project Gutenberg Australia, accessed Jan. 16, 2019, http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks13/1302251h.html.

⁶ Bramah, “The Transmuation of Ling,” 6-7.