As well as being dated it’s by no means perfect – CT Hsia criticises it for not showing the ‘subtle psychological realism’ of the work. The Waley is elegant but stately, as is the cover of my edition showing a jade carving in the V&A, and quite evidently a product of its time – its time being 1942. Anthony Yu has translated it in its entirety, as has WJF Jenner, but I haven’t read either. Waley’s abridged translation has been the pre-eminent translation for decades, at least in the UK where it is the Penguin Classics edition. My copy was the Arthur Waley translation. That, of course, may be a problem with the translation. I found it a few weeks later on her bedside table, clearly attempted but unread.

I lent her my copy of Monkey, thinking it would be the most immediate, most approachable and most amusing way into Chinese literature. She asked if I had any books she could borrow. When I told my mother I might apply to study Chinese at university, she was first baffled, and then tried to understand where this interest had come from. (The only big oversight is probably erotica – so a good case for including the Golden Lotus in the canon) One historical fiction, one epic romance, one martial arts action and one comedy. I generally don’t like anything so reductive and it always feels a bit rough on those great works that don’t make the cut, but aren’t they just a perfect little group, covering the breadth of (proto-)genres? You could categorise almost any work of modern popular fiction as a descendant of one of the Big Four.

Occasionally I reflect just what an elegant and complementary group the Big Four Classic Novels are.

Monkey by Wu Cheng'en