Women's script or nüshu, which although probably originally derived from Chinese characters is syllabic in nature, was developed and, as far as we know, exclusively utilized, by the rural women of Jiangyong county in southern Hunan. It first became publicized to the wider world in the late 1980s, but for a century or more before had been used exclusively by women to record a range of writings, including short poems, letters, marriage songs and long autobiographical ballads. Many of the extant texts (a considerable number were destroyed in the post-1949 period), represent original compositions and, the autobiographical ballads in particular, provide fascinating glimpses into the trials and tribulations, as well as the ideals and aspirations, of rural women, as opposed to their now more well-known gentry sisters who for the most part belonged to the urban elites of the Jiangnan region. However, these ballads, which have been studied by scholars such as Cathy Silber and others, are not the ones that Idema is concerned with in Heroines of Jiangyong. He is interested, rather, in those women's script narrative ballads that were selected, and then adapted, from stories – many of which had been in circulation for centuries in other parts of China – originally composed in Chinese characters. What is significant about these narrative ballads then, is not that they are unique to the women of Jiangyong, but rather that they provide a unique case “of ballads selected by women for women,” and as such “clearly reflect the concerns of a specifically female and rural audience” (p. 6).

As one reads through these lively translations of 12 such narrative ballads, four of which Idema categorizes separately as “moral tracts,” one does indeed begin to form a picture of what some of these women's concerns were. In some ways, they did not differ from those of their elite sisters. For example, chastity, or rather fidelity to a single husband, was an deeply internalized ideal, as vividly illustrated by the ballad of Lady Xiao, who is urged by her family to remarry when her office-seeking husband fails to return from the capital after 18 years. She adamantly refuses to do so – “Only if the Yellow River runs dry will I marry again … Only if a horse grows horns will I marry again!” (p. 74). And in “The Tale of Third Sister” we have our heroine forcefully reminding her mother that “A good horse is not fitted out with a pair of saddles; A good women will not marry a second husband” (p. 45). Yet, another pressing concern is the fulfillment of one's filial obligation to one's parents and, perhaps even more worrying, assuring that one's children, and particularly one's sons, will remember their filial obligations when they are grown. “The Ten Months of Pregnancy,” for example, graphically describes that endless suffering and sacrifices made by parents for their children, from the pains of pregnancy and childbirth to keeping growing children healthy and happy. Since it is anticipated that a daughter's loyalties will be transferred to her husband's family upon marriage, the primary source of concern is the son: “He only wants to have a wonderful time with his wife/ And now treats his own father and mother like strangers. When he does return home and his parents berate him/He'll answer his father and mother in words most foul” (p. 34). Nevertheless, the protagonists of these ballads, while they may weep, lament and wail, also shout and curse and scold and, for the most part, do indeed emerge as “heroines” – sometimes due entirely to their own determination and courage, sometimes with a little help from the wise Judge Bao, sometimes with a bit of supernatural intervention, and sometimes, when all else fails, by calmly taking their own lives: “She arranged her pair of red shoes on a rock/ And this chaste person jumped into the sea!” (p. 83).

In the end, however, a summary of the content of these ballads does them little justice. It is only by reading them in their entirety that one begins to fully understand one of the main reasons for their popularity, and why translations such as these represent such an important contribution to our understanding of Chinese folk literature – a still much understudied field – and why they should be especially welcomed by those who teach China in the classroom. For the language of these ballads, deftly conveyed by Idema's translations, is lively, earthy and often, despite the characteristic repetitions and recurrence of certain formulaic patterns, refreshingly vivid. Many of these ballads are tragic, just as were the lives of many of the women who copied, read and recited them. But a few of them do have happy endings, and, even in the sad ones, one unexpectedly comes across flashes of humour and bits of wisdom: “The words one hears in a dream are not always true/ Thoughts that haunt one during the day turn to dreams” (p. 108).