In an interview conducted in June during her book launch in Taipei, renowned sinologist and retired Yale professor Su, Kang-yi, offered insights into her latest autobiography, “奔赴” (Running Towards). At the age of 80, she explained the meaning behind the title: “My experience in America has primarily been one of running,” she said. “Later, I realized that life is essentially a series of pursuits.”
Born in Beijing in 1944 and moving to Taiwan at the age of two, Su obtained her bachelor’s and master’s degrees from Tunghai University and National Taiwan University before moving to the United States in 1968. After earning three master’s degrees and a Ph.D., she spent 39 years teaching at Yale, focusing on Chinese classical literature, until her retirement three years ago.
Su has published numerous works throughout her career, ranging from studies on Chinese classical poetry to essays and autobiographies that reflect her life in the U.S. Interestingly, she chose to write her latest autobiography in Chinese, a decision that stems from her experience teaching at Yale. For nearly two decades, Su communicated exclusively in English due to her professional needs, but in 1988, she felt a “language crisis” and subconsciously began writing in Chinese. This led to a surge of creativity and confidence in her writing.
In 2003, she published her memoir, “走出白色恐怖” (Out of the White Terror), detailing her father’s ten years of imprisonment during Taiwan’s White Terror period. For her, “奔赴” serves as a means to reflect on her nearly 60 years in the United States. With a smile, she noted, “Through writing this book in Chinese, I feel my skills have improved.”
Su describes herself as having a “photographic memory.” During our conversation, she recounted various past events with remarkable clarity, recalling dates, names, and details accurately. After the interview, she even provided a detailed list of the figures mentioned in our discussion and the page numbers where they appeared in her memoir.
Even in retirement, Su maintains correspondence with her former students. Just before our interview, she received an email from a former student, Edward Columbia, who graduated in 2018. He was thrilled to share that he had been accepted into Yale Law School and wanted to thank her for writing his recommendation letter. Interestingly, this student initially aspired to be an artist but found it too challenging to pursue a career in the arts.
This student’s struggles resonate with the realities Su faced while teaching Chinese literature over the past four decades. She noted how, when she first started in the 1980s, students pursuing academic careers had more opportunities. Today, more students prioritize fields with higher economic returns, and the shrinking number of academic jobs leaves many hesitant about pursuing degrees in humanities, including Chinese classical literature.
“Students in engineering might still find work in their field,” Su pondered, “but what happens to those of us in the humanities? Do we become taxi drivers?”
Su recalled one of her Chinese-speaking white students who’d won a debate competition. When considering his future, he asked her if she could guarantee him a teaching position if he pursued a Ph.D. in East Asian literature. “I told him I couldn’t make such guarantees,” she said with a wry smile. Ultimately, he chose a career in banking.
While it might not be easy for all her students to secure academic jobs, Su is confident in the value of studying Chinese classical literature. During the pandemic, all her classes shifted online, and despite being physically confined, her students found comfort and healing in the works of poets like Tao Yuanming and Du Fu. “They told me they were astonished by the healing power of Chinese literature; it calmed them,” she reflected.
Although not all her students may find stable employment post-graduation, those who are touched by poetry are destined to have their lives transformed. Su reminisced about a surprise encounter during a Zoom class when a student’s parent, Charlie, introduced himself. Almost 40 years after taking her course, he had kept his copy of “Monkey,” the English translation of “Journey to the West,” on his bookshelf.
Su’s dedication to teaching is evident in her insistence on grading all her students’ assignments herself. “I want to get to know every student,” she explained, which is why she limits her classes to 25.
As a pioneering Chinese-American woman, Su’s achievements are significant. In 1986, the same year her daughter was born, she became a tenured professor at Yale, a major feat considering there were over 600 tenured male professors at Yale and fewer than 20 tenured female professors that year.
Her academic contributions also include advancing gender studies through the lens of Chinese classical literature. She has edited anthologies of writings by Chinese women poets and has hosted international conferences on women’s literature in the Ming and Qing Dynasties.
One of her popular courses, “Women and Literature,” consistently draws a large number of students, requiring her to use surveys to select participants. In this course, Su emphasizes the various dimensions of women’s power, stating, “Power isn’t just about wealth or political influence; it’s a moral power.”
The specter of the White Terror has significantly shaped Su’s life experiences, impacting her family deeply and leaving a lasting impression on her upbringing. Beyond her memoir, she discusses her confrontation with an officer involved in her father’s detention, revealing his lack of remorse and sense of pride in his actions.
“This left a significant impact on me,” she remarked, referencing the concept of “the banality of evil” described by the philosopher Hannah Arendt. Reflecting on this, Su acknowledged, “Even at 80, I felt the need to write about this.”
While both of her autobiographies are now published, has she truly moved on from the memories of the White Terror? “It’s impossible to completely leave it behind,” she stated. “But I no longer harbor hatred.” She credits her ability to coexist with these memories to her faith, feeling gratitude daily as a devout Christian. “I’ve been running, station to station, and now at 80, I feel grateful,” she noted, “but those events are still in my mind; I won’t forget them.”
Su considers herself a “citizen of the world,” articulating her broad sense of belonging. “Wherever I go, that is home to me. Right now, my home is ‘Qianxue Studio’ in Woodbridge, Connecticut,” she said, referring to her study where she spends a lot of time reading. Although her siblings are based in Taiwan and Washington, D.C., technology keeps them connected.
Recently, Su traveled to Taiwan for her book launch and attended academic meetings, where her family celebrated her 80th birthday. “Retirement means I’m no longer teaching,” she explained, “but I still read, organize books, participate in academic activities, and stay in touch with my students and friends. I finally have time to visit the doctor and learn about taxes; I’m busier than ever!”
In the conclusion of “奔赴,” Su reflects on her influential figure, “Gram” (Edith Chamberlin), whom she met at 24. Now, at this stage in her life, she often recalls a poem Gram encouraged her with, which reads:
“I have seen beauty everywhere,
And that is what I came to see.
Life’s day whenever it shall end
Will have been long enough for me…”
