Top 10 Essays Analyzing the Boatman Image in the Song Da Rapids Scene

The boatman initially appears as a seasoned worker, someone with a wealth of experience navigating the mighty river, possessing courage, bravery, sharp intelligence, agility, and decisiveness. Nguyễn Tuân places his character in a perilous situation where all these qualities are revealed, and where one must pay the price with their life if they are not careful—specifically, during the rapids crossing.

The author describes this as a fierce battle for the boatman, taking place on the battlefield of the Sông Đà, amidst a water combat zone. This is the deadly challenge of navigating the rapids, a battle that unfolds over multiple rounds, where the enemy's face and nature are revealed in the form of the river's deadly force:

"The rocks here have been lying in wait for a thousand years beneath the river’s surface. It seems that each time a boat appears in this dangerous stretch, each time a boat rounds the bend, the rocks rise to seize the boat. Every stone has a fierce, distorted face, and each one seems designed by the river to play its role in this trap. The stones are set in three rows, like a fortress built across the river, waiting to strike at the lone boat that has no path to retreat from the encircling rocks..."

Within this stone trap, the boatman holds the paddle firmly, preventing it from being knocked loose by the waves as they strike directly at him. When the river launches its deadliest attack, as the water clings to the boat like a wrestler gripping its opponent to flip them into the violent, thunderous waters, the old man remains unfazed—calm, clever, and strategic, much like a commander, navigating his boat through the rapids. Even when wounded, he suppresses the pain, gripping the rudder tightly, his face twisted as if shaped by the force of the waves. "Breaking through the first stony trap," the boatman "pushes on to the second barrier." Having mastered the tactics of the river’s spirit, he is able to confidently "attack": "Just push the boat straight ahead, pierce the middle gap. The boat shoots through, darting through the narrow rock gates, like an arrow slicing through the mist, navigating the currents with skill." Despite the overwhelming forces of nature, armed with only a single paddle and a small boat, the boatman triumphs, leaving the boulders defeated and humiliated in the face of the boat's resilience.

The boatman, in Nguyễn Tuân’s story, represents an anonymous laborer, working silently and humbly, conquering the fierce river through sheer labor. It is through this labor that he rises to greatness, becoming a symbolic figure of humanity's resilience. Through determination, persistence, and willpower, the boatman conquers the supernatural forces of nature, embodying the essence of the indomitable spirit of the people of the Tây Bắc region.

What stands out most is the boatman's artistic demeanor, an embodiment of refined skill. In Nguyễn Tuân’s literary vision, the concept of artistic talent extends beyond poets and writers to anyone whose craft reaches the heights of excellence, even those whose work might not traditionally be seen as 'artistic'. In "The Boatman of Sông Đà", Nguyễn Tuân presents the boatman as an artist of his trade, whom the author reverently describes as a "flawless helmsman". The artistry here lies in mastering the inevitable rules of the Sông Đà, which, once controlled, grants the freedom to navigate it with grace.

The laws governing the Sông Đà are harsh and unforgiving. A slight misstep, a moment of carelessness, or a wrong move could cost a life. Even in stretches of the river that are free from rapids, the danger of complacency, of losing focus, could lead to disaster. Ultimately, danger is omnipresent. The old boatman knows the river and its laws, as well as the tactics of the river’s spirit. He navigates the rapids with precision, his senses working in perfect harmony. After the battle, he remains unruffled, calm as if the struggle had never happened: "The waves of the rapids dissolve into memory. The river returns to tranquility. That night, the boatman lights a fire in the cave, roasts rice cakes, and the conversation turns to local fish, to the fishing traps that explode with sound, filling the rice fields with their catch. But no one speaks a word about the recent victory over the fierce rapids." Like true artists, after exhausting all their effort to create, few take time to celebrate their accomplishment. Nguyễn Tuân comments: "Their lives are spent fighting daily against the wild Sông Đà, claiming life from its grasp, and so, to them, it is nothing remarkable. They think nothing of it when they stop paddling."

Perhaps the heroic boatman is easy to recognize, but it is Nguyễn Tuân who reveals the boatman’s artistry. In the scene of the rapids crossing, the boatman is shown to possess all the qualities of both hero and artist.

A great literary work that remains timeless in the hearts of readers is one that creates exemplary characters in defining circumstances, bringing together the full talent and passion of the artist. The character of the boatman in Nguyễn Tuân's essay "The Boatman of Sông Đà" is one such character.

Under Nguyễn Tuân's masterful pen, the depiction of the Sông Đà's nature is both violent and poetic, providing a fitting backdrop for the emergence of the laborer from the mountains of Tây Bắc, embodying both heroic and artistic qualities. The boatman stands out as a brave, daring figure who has battled the deadly rapids of the Sông Đà for nearly two decades to survive. His skills are described as "flawless". Nguyễn Tuân paints a vivid portrait of the boatman, a true child of the river: Though nearly seventy, he is strong and fit, with a body as firm as wood or stone, and a voice as powerful as the river itself. His arms are described as "long and bony like the oars", and his legs "spread wide as though gripping the rudder tightly"... With just a few skillful strokes, the author carves out an image of the boatman as a hero of the river, a figure who will forever remain in the hearts of readers, representing a life dedicated to the art of boatmanship, reaching the level of a true craftsman.

It seems that Nguyễn Tuân poured his love and admiration for the Sông Đà into the character of the boatman, who becomes so deeply connected to the river that he knows its every rapid, whirlpool, and bend—over a thousand names, easy and difficult alike, all merging into a flowing current in the boatman's heart, which is in fact the heart of Nguyễn Tuân himself. He knows the river like he knows a "great epic, each punctuation mark, each comma, exclamation mark, and every line break". "The boatman had mastered the tactics of the river's and the rocks' spirits, and had memorized the rules of ambush set by the river’s stones." Because of this, the boatman is able to subdue the ferocity of the Sông Đà. He is not a god, but a regular human laborer, yet with intelligence and courage, he triumphs over the relentless forces of nature, allowing him to live and contribute creatively to the protection of his homeland.

The boatman's character is revealed through his fierce struggles with water, waves, winds, and rocks across three major battles. The first battle is the trap of rocks. The reader is struck by how the stones are anthropomorphized into an army: "boulders, rocks", "defensive rocks" set up an ambush with five gates—four leading to death and one to safety. The author uses a series of vivid action verbs to emphasize the power of this rocky army: "lurking", "rising up", "waiting in different positions", "aiming to kill", "guarding the gates", and "threatening"... These verbs are reinforced with adjectives highlighting the savagery of the rocks: "fierce", "wrinkled", "distorted"... All of this highlights the overwhelming power of the rocks, vast in number and brutal in force, creating an unequal battle for the boatman, who faces them alone. Alongside the rocks, the water works with them, roaring in harmony with the rocks, adding to the thunderous sounds of the battle. The waves launch attacks like a fierce fighter, striking with all their might. Nguyễn Tuân's literary genius shines through in the vivid, dynamic language he uses, drawing from a rich pool of military and sports terminology to emphasize the intensity of the river's rocks and waves. This is a form of art—indirectly celebrating the boatman's dual prowess in both intellect and courage. During this phase, the author praises the boatman for his extraordinary endurance: "Despite his wounds, the boatman gripped the rudder with both legs firmly in place...", commanding with concise and discreet precision, as he conquered the first rocky battle.

In the second stage of the battle, the rocks and water increase in intensity, adding more gates to the trap. "The roar of the waterfall is like a fierce beast preparing to strike," and "the forces of the water relentlessly challenge the boatman"... The strong action verbs continue, intensifying the conflict, while metaphorical comparisons turn the waves into a sacred beast, amplifying the river's power to its peak, further highlighting the boatman's heroic stance.

The boatman "never hesitates, breaking through the second wave and changing tactics", "He knew the river’s and the rocks’ strategies, had memorized their ambushes". Confident and swift, he controls the situation, "riding the rapids like riding a tiger, gripping the waves, steering the boat with ease, charging forward and splitting the waves to clear the path". The series of powerful action verbs propel the reader into the battle's rush, creating a sense of being swept away by the waves, while also glorifying the boatman’s qualities of intelligence, bravery, and resilience.

If in the first two battles, Nguyễn Tuân focuses on showcasing the boatman’s complete blend of wisdom and heroism, in the third stage, he aims to demonstrate the artistic mastery of the boatman’s craft. Nguyễn Tuân writes that "on both the left and right, death is lurking", forcing the boatman to employ his full professional skill, lifting the boat above the water like a stunt motorcycle rider soaring through the air, "cutting through the surface of the water"... The repeated strong verbs "dart" and "pierce" emphasize the speed and power of the boat’s movements, while comparisons continue to show the boatman’s dexterity in weaving the boat through the sea of rocks. The art of navigation here fully convinces the reader of the boatman’s mastery, positioning him as a true artist in his craft.

Nguyễn Tuân is indeed a masterful artist who excels at celebrating laborers who face danger and hardship with honor, epitomized by the character of the boatman in the essay "The Boatman of Sông Đà", a figure that embodies both heroism and artistry in his craft.

Tố Hữu once wrote:

"Nine years to make a Điện Biên

It gave rise to the red flower wreath, to the golden history."

After the glorious victory of Điện Biên, which shook the world and led to the signing of the Geneva Accords, the North advanced to socialism. In response to the Party's call, the North sparked a movement of volunteers heading to the remote areas of the country to restore the economy and heal the wounds of war. These people returned to places that were once battlefields, but now they were rebuilding. The Northwest was seen as a promised land. Countless new socialist citizens headed to the western region of the country, filled with songs and hope. The realities of life became literary subjects, for writers are the faithful chroniclers of their times. Just as Nguyễn Khải wrote "Mùa lạc", Nguyễn Huy Tưởng wrote "Bốn năm sau", and Chế Lan Viên penned "Tiếng hát con tàu", Nguyễn Tuân created the collection of essays "Sông Đà", which includes fifteen pieces written between 1958 and 1960 during his travels in the Northwest. The soul of the collection lies in the essay "The Ferryman of the Sông Đà". Nguyễn Tuân's success in this work was his ability to create the character of the ferryman as a symbol of the beauty of the new socialist man. This is most vividly expressed through the scene of the ferryman overcoming the rapids.

The rapids of the Sông Đà are described by Nguyễn Tuân: “The majesty of Sông Đà is not only in its rapids. It also lies in the rocky riverbanks, steep cliffs, and the place where the river only sees sunlight at noon.” Indeed, in the first stage, the Sông Đà arranges a battle with “four death traps and one escape route”. The writer further describes: “Each rock seems to be 'rebellious', with all of them 'wrinkled and misshapen'.” In contrast to the rocky rapids, “the rocky battlefield, just arranged, was the moment the boat came charging.” This line reveals the ferryman’s readiness to confront the battle ahead. However, the rapids of Sông Đà were cunning, not only attacking directly but also using psychological warfare. First, they mocked the ferryman with the sound of the rapids “taunting and sneering”. Now, they teamed up with the water to bolster the rocks. Like a savage aquatic creature, the Sông Đà launched brutal attacks: “The rapids roared like a tiger or leopard attacking the stone river.” Feeling the strength of their army, Sông Đà “rushed to break the oar handle,” “desperately pushed into the side to strike,” “pushed the boat with its waves,” and even “lifted the boat entirely.” Despite the attacks, the ferryman remained calm and composed. He devised a strategy to conserve his strength for the next round. “With both hands, he held the oar firmly to prevent it from being swept up by the waves.” The Sông Đà, however, was relentless and moved on to the next tactic: “The waves grabbed the ferryman by the waist, attempting to flip him over.” Not giving the ferryman a chance to recover, the rapids used the deadliest move: “The water in the narrow stream squeezed tightly around the ferryman's lower body.” The force was so strong that the ferryman’s vision blurred, and his face became pale, yet he controlled the pain, remaining calm, with a voice clear and cold, directing his crew to move the boat through the escape route.

In the second phase, the Sông Đà increased the number of death traps, “shifting the escape route to the right bank,” intending to lure the boat into the death trap. Nguyễn Tuân describes this moment: “Riding the Sông Đà rapids, you must ride to the end, as if riding a tiger.” Facing this new formation, the ferryman showed no fear. With over ten years of experience navigating rapids, he was confident and self-assured. “The ferryman had mastered the strategies of the river god and the stone god. He knew the rules of the ambush laid by the rocks in the perilous waters.” Like an experienced coach, the ferryman decided to strike first with a swift and decisive attack. “Having already grabbed the wave's mane in the right lane, the ferryman tightened the reins and sped up,” and “the boat moved swiftly through the waves,” “cutting through with incredible speed.” But Sông Đà was not to be underestimated. “The four or five waves from the left bank rushed forward, attempting to pull the boat into the death trap.” Recognizing his foe, the ferryman “avoided and paddled quickly, cutting through the waves to clear the path.” Eventually, the death traps were left behind, and only the sound of taunting rapids remained.

In the final round, the Sông Đà launched its ultimate strike. Though there were fewer traps, the left and right sides of the river were still deadly, with the only safe passage being in the middle, guarded by the rear rocks. The rapids employed the “hammer and anvil” strategy, forcing the ferryman into a situation of “no retreat and no advance.” Yet, the skilled ferryman remained steady, directing the crew with precision. “The boat darted straight through the middle,” piercing the defense line. At this point, the boat “shot through the mist like an arrow, swift and self-steering, weaving through the rocks.” Finally, the rapids were conquered, and the ferryman had triumphed. The reader, upon reaching this point, can only sigh with relief at the victory of the ferryman of the Sông Đà.

To vividly depict the scene of the ferryman navigating the rapids, Nguyễn Tuân used his masterful command of language, drawing on terminology from various fields such as literature, sports, military tactics, and martial arts. He skillfully employed strong verbs to emphasize the savagery of the river and the prowess of the ferryman.

It can be affirmed that the essay "The Ferryman of the Sông Đà" fully showcases Nguyễn Tuân's literary strengths and artistic style. People admire Nguyễn Tuân for his remarkable talent, and they respect him as an artist of beauty, a creator of purity and integrity. As Nguyễn Minh Châu once said: "Nguyễn Tuân is the very definition of an artist."

The character of the ferryman on the Da River emerged during a time when our nation was deeply engaged in building socialism, full of vibrant and urgent activity. During this period, the celebration of the new life and new people was widely reflected in literary works. Not to be left out of this trend, the ferryman on the Da River stands out with its portrayal of the ferryman as a striking figure. Nguyễn Tuân praises the ordinary, nameless workers who contribute every day to the building of the country.

The ferryman on the Da River is depicted in relation to the Da River itself, emphasizing and highlighting the ferryman's character. Thus, the more violent and savage the Da River is, the more the ferryman’s strength is displayed as he overcomes it.

The ferryman, hailing from Lai Châu, had crossed the Da River more than one hundred times, with sixty of those occasions involving him as the primary helmsman. The author creates an impression of the ferryman for the reader through the intense pressure and challenges these numbers imply. Each crossing of the Da River represented a brush with death, and the successful crossings demonstrate the ferryman's skill and mastery in his craft.

To emphasize the beauty of the ferryman’s character, Nguyễn Tuân presents his physical portrait: “his hands hung limply like a pole, his legs always bent as though holding an imaginary oar, his voice roaring like the sound of water before a river's rapids, and his eyes sharp as though always searching for a distant shore in the mist,” “his head was gray and firm… set upon a compact body with a strong, robust build.” His only sign of age is his silver hair, and when this hair is concealed, one might mistake him for a young man sitting at the river’s edge.

The ferryman’s appearance strongly impresses the reader, as it starkly contrasts with his seventy years of age, embodying instead the appearance of a strong, agile, and muscular young man. His health and physical prowess are deeply marked by his profession, requiring extraordinary strength to battle the fierce rapids.

The key trait that ensures the ferryman’s success in navigating the rapids is his vast experience. Without the aid of maps, he can recall the river's twists and turns with precise accuracy. To praise his skill, Nguyễn Tuân uses a unique, poetic comparison: “The Da River, to this ferryman, is like an epic that he knows by heart, with every punctuation mark and line break.”

Beyond his experience, the ferryman has turned his profession – his means of livelihood – into a passionate devotion. Facing the fierce rapids, which could bring death, he feels not fear but excitement in the challenge. To him, the Da River is only truly meaningful when navigating its rapids; when traveling on its calm stretches, he feels restless and sleepy, like a cat wandering in the flatlands.

The most beautiful image of the ferryman emerges during the water battle with the Da River. Nguyễn Tuân creates a unique water battle in literary history, with the Da River acting as a monstrous adversary full of terrifying strength and treacherous cunning, while the ferryman, though resilient and strong, faces this fierce battle alone. In order to win, the ferryman reveals all his best qualities.

In the first phase of the battle, the Da River demonstrates its physical power through the combination of rocks, waves, and water. It strikes head-on while also using precision attacks to force the ferryman into a vulnerable position. While romantic inspiration is a central theme in the work, Nguyễn Tuân does not approach this battle lightly. He describes a moment when the ferryman seems to be overwhelmed by the fatal blows of the Da River. But through extraordinary endurance, flexibility, and strength, the ferryman clings tightly to the oar, issuing clear and decisive commands from the boat.

With courage, extraordinary health, and calmness, the ferryman overcomes the first phase of the battle. In the second phase, with unexpected changes and intricate placements of the dangerous and safe paths, the ferryman's vast experience and adaptability allow him to navigate into the safe path. With his flexible tactics, he adapts to the changing challenges of the river’s various phases. In the final phase, the author does not describe the battle in great detail, but still highlights the ferryman’s skill in piloting the boat. With strength, endurance, and especially bravery, decisiveness, and proactivity, he overcomes all the traps set by the Da River. The fierce struggle between the violent forces of nature and the lone ferryman, whose only weapon is his oar, ends in the victory of mankind.

While the battle with the Da River displays the surface strength and beauty of the river, after the battle, the ferryman’s modest reaction to his victory shows the deeper beauty of his character and soul. Winning the battle against seventy-three rapids is no small feat, even a remarkable achievement. Yet for the ferryman and the workers in the area, it is an entirely ordinary thing. It is precisely because they simplify and make ordinary what is extraordinary that their souls and characters become even more cherished and valuable.

The ferryman’s character leaves a strong impression of Nguyễn Tuân’s artistic style. He is portrayed as a talented, artistic person who elevates his work into a form of art. Yet in his depiction, Nguyễn Tuân also conveys a shift in his thinking, showing that talented and artistic individuals are not extraordinary figures but rather ordinary people, often nameless. This is Nguyễn Tuân’s way of praising and honoring the silent workers who contribute to the building of socialism.

"The scene of crossing the rapids" describes the moment when the boatman navigates through three complex rock formations, facing fierce and powerful natural obstacles. With a unique view of beauty and a masterful writing style, Nguyễn Tuân successfully creates the image of the boatman on the Đà River – a captivating and extraordinary artistic portrayal.

The boatman embodies the strength and skill of a laborer, demonstrating a rugged and expert mastery of his craft. His appearance and character are vividly depicted. Although over 70 years old, his physique remains strong, like a true child of the majestic river: his chest scarred with battle wounds – which Nguyễn Tuân fondly refers to as "superior labor medals" – his arms as slender as the boat's oars, his legs wide apart, towering with high stature, and his voice booming like the roaring rapids. These features highlight the beauty of a laborer intimately connected to the vast river region.

Beyond his physical ruggedness, the boatman stands out for his sharp wit and intelligence. To him, the Đà River is like a heroic epic that he has memorized, knowing every waterway and mastering the strategies of the river and rocks. This is why, even in the midst of a fierce battle against the river’s force, the victory belongs to the clever and skilled man.

In the first rock formation, the Đà River has already set up its traps with four deathly gates and one escape route. Here, water and rocks collaborate, creating an atmosphere of fierce anticipation. The rocks stand like intimidating sentinels, one seeming to challenge the boat to identify itself before the battle, daring the boat to approach. Through words like "intimidating", "powerful", and "defiant", the reader can sense the charged atmosphere of a thrilling, dramatic battle.

The cunning of the Đà River rocks is impressive: they not only fight in close combat but also employ psychological warfare. They had already used the river's sound to taunt with a "mocking tone". Now, they call upon the water to support the rocks in their attack. With a ferocity like that of a mythical sea monster, the river, relying on its power, tries to "break the paddle", "ram the boat", and "push the boat to the side". A series of verbs like "rush in", "break", "ram", and "push" illustrate the river's violent onslaught, evoking a sense of awe at nature's wrath. Despite the sudden attack, the boatman remains calm, further showcasing his courage and professionalism. With a defensive strategy to conserve energy for the upcoming obstacles, the boatman firmly holds the paddle as the river attempts to push the boat over. The river changes its approach, trying to flip the boatman over by gripping his waist. The battle continues as the river’s water squeezes around the boatman’s lower body, causing him intense pain. Though the boatman is briefly dazed, his face contorts in pain, yet he stays composed, instructing the other rowers to guide the boat through the deadly waters.

If the first paragraph focused on the river’s tactics, the next one shifts to the boatman's intelligence, agility, and extraordinary skill in navigating the rapids. Moving from defense, the boatman shifts to an offensive stance. In the second rock formation, the river sets up an even tougher obstacle, but the boatman remains undaunted. With ten years of experience on the water, he knows the strategy of the river rocks and has mastered the art of ambush. He reflects that to ride the Đà River rapids is like taming a tiger – it requires constant vigilance and strategy. In this battle, the boatman acts swiftly, launching a quick strike to overcome the rock barriers. Like a skilled athlete, he maneuvers the boat expertly, avoiding obstacles and opening the path for progress.

The river, however, isn’t easily defeated. It tries to drag the boat into its trap, but the boatman is ready, avoiding and forcefully pushing through the obstacles. With a series of decisive actions, the boatman breaks through the obstacles, forcing the rocks to retreat with their faces "defeated and disheartened". The third formation is the final challenge. Although fewer gates exist here, they are deadly and surrounded by rocky defenses. The boatman faces a dilemma, but with quick thinking, he turns his boat into a swift arrow, breaking through the middle gap, moving with the speed and precision of a master. In this final phase, the boatman’s mastery and artistry in navigating the rapids shine through. The boatman’s actions in this battle reflect not only his skill but also his extraordinary intelligence, making him a true artist of his craft.

In the art of navigating the rapids, the boatman is a remarkable, talented figure – a calm, humble artist who exemplifies the beauty of Vietnamese labor. Nguyễn Tuân is a true master of portraying the heroism of laborers who face peril and hardship but do so with glory!

During the period of renewal, many works were written about the vibrant and enthusiastic daily lives and labor of people living in a socialist society. "The Boatman of the Da River" by Nguyễn Tuân centers around the figure of the boatman, who embodies the remarkable, courageous qualities of a skilled and extraordinary worker.

To emphasize these qualities, the author chooses to describe the scene where the boatman navigates the rapids of the Da River. Through just a few gestures and actions, the reader can sense the boatman's courageous and skilled spirit in the unequal battle between nature and man.

Although the boatman is over 70 years old, he has spent nearly his entire life on the river, and thus knows it intimately. He can identify the dangers of every bend, each one with its own unique challenges. When the river presents the "three-fold stone maze" to test the boatman, he remains calm, relying on his deep knowledge of the "strategies of the river's deity." The river's rocks are eternal, unchanging, and the boatman knows their every tactic. He is well aware of the ambushes posed by the rocks at this treacherous section of the river. Despite the many fatal dangers and the rare opportunities for survival, the boatman knows exactly where the safe paths are, guiding the boat through them with ease.

The battle against the rapids is full of danger, a mismatch between the vast and terrifying force of nature and the fragile boat with a boatman over seventy at its helm. Yet, he faces these perilous situations with courage. When "the waves strike with the deadliest blow," injuring him, he presses on, "clenching his legs around the tiller, his face pale," guiding the boat into the right path despite the pain. His determination to fight through the hardship, even in pain, showcases his heroic qualities that rise above the ordinary.

In this battle with the rapids, the boatman's precise skills leave a strong impression on the reader. The author places the boatman in a situation where he must confront the "roaring rapids" to allow the boat to continue its journey. It is here that the boatman's nimble and skilled hands are fully put to use. Amidst the many fatal paths and few safe ones, he expertly steers the boat toward the correct course. With a swift and smooth motion, he guides the boat through the dangerous waters. The word "swish" conveys the precision and elegance of the boatman's actions, highlighting his expertise. At this moment, the boat and the boatman seem to merge as one, facing the rapids together, rather than existing as two separate entities.

Through the image of the boatman navigating the rapids, we can see that he is not only a skilled worker but also an artist. The boatman knows the river like an old friend, and with swift, precise movements, he guides the boat through the Da River's fierce waters with confidence. Moreover, the boatman can be considered a hero, displaying immense courage in the face of the river's brutality. Both his artistic mastery and his heroic spirit are hidden within the ordinary figure of a laborer who is dedicated to his work for the country.

The image of the boatman in this scene is that of an ordinary person, simple and humble, yet possessing exceptional qualities such as bravery, resilience, and a deep love and pride in his work. Through this, Nguyễn Tuân praises the hardworking people who contribute their efforts to the building and development of the nation.

During his lifetime, Nguyễn Tuân had a deep passion for traveling because, according to him, 'traveling' helped him diversify his sensory experiences. Therefore, anything related to rivers, boats, roads, bridges, and natural landscapes often inspired him greatly. Nguyễn Tuân's artistic genius lay in his ability to draw inspiration from things that were intense, extraordinary, or profoundly poetic. Perhaps this is why, in his essay 'The Boatman of the Sông Đà River,' the description of the waterfall, the 'stone formations' the boatman must navigate through, stands as a convincing testament to his unique writing style. It is not by chance that in describing the 'Boatman of the Sông Đà River,' the boatman from Lai Châu, Nguyễn Tuân focuses on certain details of his appearance: 'His hands were thin, like a paddle, his legs were constantly bent as if grasping a phantom boat tiller. His voice was loud, like the sound of water rushing at a river rapids, his eyes were sharp as though always looking for some distant shore hidden in mist.' The profession of working on the river has shaped his distinct features, from his appearance to the powerful 'speak-the-waves' voice that even overpowers the roaring sound of the Sông Đà waterfalls, along with his 'sturdy head' atop a solid, muscular body like black horn or ebony. The beauty of a laborer who has been tested and tempered to overcome the fierce forces of nature seems natural, but it actually reflects Nguyễn Tuân's fine observations and everlasting praise for the boatman: 'The boatman's chest, shoulders, and back were bruised after rowing against the rapids, their skin bruised like brown roots... Even the blood-stained coin-shaped marks on his body were the precious badges of an extraordinary labor medal for the boatman.' Ferrying passengers was a challenging art requiring intelligence, skill, bravery, and talent. In this essay, Nguyễn Tuân portrays the boatman as an artist in the skillful art of navigating rapids, with 'a masterful hand at the oars.' To emphasize his exceptional skill, Nguyễn Tuân creates a dramatic scenario: The boatman is the one who steers, commanding six rowers to overcome the waterfall and submerged rocks that the Sông Đà river set up like a tactical maze. The boatman remains calm, clever, and resourceful, displaying the resilience of a general, because just one moment of panic or carelessness could cost the lives of the entire crew. His expertise is showcased through his skill in overcoming the three successive challenges of the 'stone formations' using his vast knowledge and precise, sharp military and martial terms. Nguyễn Tuân paints a vivid picture of this fierce battle. In the first tactical formation, the Sông Đà river opens its trap with four lethal entrances and one safe passage 'somewhere on the left bank.' The waves have the fierce energy of an enemy rushing into battle: 'The waves were like an army of reckless warriors, hitting the boat's sides, pushing against its belly and flanks. At times, they even lifted the boat.' They even employed deceitful tactics, 'delivering a deadly blow to wipe out the enemy right on the spot.' But the boatman bore his wounds, his face 'twisted in agony.' With just the simple phrase 'twisted in agony,' Nguyễn Tuân conveys two emotions of the boatman: the excruciating pain that deforms his face and the waves pounding against him, draining the color from his skin. Despite this, the boatman remained composed, commanding the 'six rowers' to break through the first tactical formation. In the second tactical formation, the Sông Đà river, stubborn and cunning, changes tactics. It 'adds more lethal entrances to deceive the boat into the wrong path, while the safe passage is positioned on the right bank... The waterfall roars with the strength of a raging tiger.' The aggressiveness of the river’s assault is like a bloodthirsty beast determined to win, but it faces an equally formidable opponent. The boatman, with his indomitable spirit, a general who refuses to surrender, 'rides the waves, firmly grasping the helm, pushing the boat forward, cleaving the waves in half to open a clear path.' Before the brave, extraordinary struggle of the boatman, 'the stone general guarding the entrance withered in defeat, his face turning an unnatural green.' The large, moss-covered stone, under Nguyễn Tuân's pen, transforms into a living entity, its face now etched with fear as it never expected to encounter such a formidable adversary. And so, the second tactical formation is also overcome by the boatman. In the third tactical formation, the Sông Đà river unleashes the image of a dying beast as the dangerous paths on both sides represent death, with the only safe way in the middle intended to annihilate the opponent. The waterfall roars, and the mist thickens, but the boatman recognizes the river’s strategy and quickly adapts, steering the boat 'swiftly, like an arrow,' and thus the waterfall is conquered. I cannot help but feel both astonished and delighted by Nguyễn Tuân’s ingenious description of the stone general’s 'greenish face of disappointment' after the boat breaks through the safe entrance and charges ahead, splitting the waves to pave the way. But what leaves a more lasting impression on me are the sentences about the river after the waterfall: 'The boat turned into a sandy beach with a cool cave. The crashing waves faded into memory.' The author compares the human memory to the vast beauty of the riverbank. And that night, the boatmen lit fires in the cave, roasting rice, and spent the time talking about the fish in the river. The author elevates these ordinary workers, who have long forgotten their own greatness. Or more precisely, they do not even think of their own achievements as anything extraordinary, while we, the readers, clearly see their greatness. Nguyễn Tuân’s boatman does not possess magical powers to rival the might of Thủy Tinh, but he 'has mastered the military strategies of the gods of rivers and stones.' His experience navigating the river, going up and down waterfalls, facing the fierce rapids with only an oar in hand, allows him to conquer obstacles like a victorious warrior fighting against nature's brutality. An epic inspiration led Nguyễn Tuân’s pen to transform the ordinary, daily struggle of navigating the Sông Đà into a captivating and heroic battle. The sense of wonder, surprise, and grandeur can’t be overstated, especially coming from a writer known for his meticulous attention to detail. Yet, in this essay, Nguyễn Tuân does not mention the boatman’s name or background. This technique of anonymity reinforces the idea that in a country with so many rivers and waterfalls, the talented, artistic boatman like the one on the Sông Đà is not unique but rather a common figure. Nguyễn Tuân praises the labor of these workers, recognizing them in his own way and making the words 'Human Beings' resonate proudly and profoundly.

The essay “The Boatman of the Da River” is one of Nguyễn Tuân’s most remarkable works, published in the 1960 collection *Sông Đà* (The Da River). When writing this essay, Nguyễn Tuân saw himself as someone in search of the golden hue of the landscapes of the Tây Bắc region, particularly that golden hue embedded in the hearts of people dedicated to the cause of building a brighter, happier, and more enduring Tây Bắc. The essence of that golden hue is captured in the figure of the boatman of the Da River. This image is vividly portrayed, evoking a strong sense of intensity, particularly during the description of his crossing through the “one-of-a-kind” rapids.

The boatman was born and grew up on the banks of the Da River, right at the confluence of two rivers, making the river an integral part of his hometown. It became part of his heart and mind, and he developed a deep connection to the river, understanding it in its most intricate and detailed ways.

By the time Nguyễn Tuân met him, the boatman was 70 years old, in the twilight years of his life. He had worked as a boatman on the Da River for ten years, after which he retired for nearly twenty years. Despite his age, his physical appearance was striking: “He had a robust figure, strong like ivory or ebony, looking surprisingly youthful.” His appearance reflected the marks of his ten years in the job: his hands were long, resembling poles, his legs bent at an angle as though gripping an imaginary tiller. His voice roared like the sound of the river before the rapids. His gaze was always lofty, as if searching for a distant dock shrouded in mist. His shoulders bore the marks of the oar, the deep, round calluses from years of gripping it. These were the marks of his profession, a form of honor that Nguyễn Tuân compared to a prestigious medal.

Having navigated the Da River’s rapids for many years, the boatman mastered the ways of the river and understood the ambushes laid by the rocks at the water’s edge. It was through this knowledge and his bravery that he overcame nature’s brutal challenges, surviving, working, and creating. The boatman resembled the mythical Thủy Tinh (Water God), but unlike Thủy Tinh, he was not divine; he was merely a humble laborer, a symbol of the new working class in Northern Vietnam’s socialist construction.

Experience alone was not enough; to tame the Da River, one needed courage, quick thinking, and decisiveness. Nguyễn Tuân placed his character in a dire situation, where all these qualities were tested, and the ultimate price of failure would be one's life. The author describes this as the boatman’s battle on the Da River’s “frontline,” where he faced the rapids in a multi-stage, perilous confrontation with the “enemy” that awaited him.

The boatman’s intelligence, bravery, and skill were most apparent during his encounter with the rocks that lay in ambush. The sharp bend of the river caused the waves to surge wildly, turning the horizon white. The rocks, which had stood for thousands of years, seemed to stir to life whenever a boat appeared, ready to attack. Descriptions like “lying in ambush” and “pouncing on the boat” gave these rocks a sinister and malicious character, suggesting they could strike without warning, bringing disaster. Each rock had its own menacing, distorted face, making them appear hostile and dangerous.

The reader is led to witness a stone battlefield on the Da River, where every rock was strategically placed to create an obstacle for the boat. The rocks were organized in three lines, blocking the boat’s path, and like soldiers, they lay in ambush, ready to spring into action. Some rocks played the role of front-line defenders, while others served as reserve forces. This gave the river a savage, relentless quality. The first line of rocks seemed like an opening, but it was a trap designed to lure the boat deeper into the danger zone. Once the boat was trapped, the waves would strike from behind, further complicating the boat’s escape. But the boatman skillfully maneuvered, passing through this first line of defense, only to face another array of stone fortresses and deadly water waves.

Nguyễn Tuân used powerful verbs to convey the river’s fury, which only served to highlight the boatman’s beauty, courage, and resilience. The river became the backdrop against which the boatman’s heroism was revealed—he emerged as a symbol of strength and grace, battling the river to survive. This technique is known as “painting the clouds to reveal the moon,” where the river’s threat only accentuates the figure of the boatman.

In the midst of this rock-strewn battlefield, the boatman used both hands to steady his paddle against the crashing waves, his only weapon. The waves fought like a desperate opponent, attempting to flip the boat and disarm the boatman. The river’s attack was relentless, striking at every possible angle, pushing the boat to the brink. But even as the boatman was injured, he remained calm, focused, and strategic, like a general leading his forces across a treacherous battlefield. Despite his injuries, he continued to command the boat, ensuring it navigated through the deadly rapids. “We’ve broken through the first trap,” he announced, showing both courage and intellect in the face of danger.

Without pause, the boatman pressed on to the second round of the battle, knowing that the river had placed even more deadly traps along the way. He was aware of the river’s tactics and expertly avoided the hidden dangers. As he entered this new phase, it was no longer a battle with rocks and waves, but rather a clash with the Da River’s mighty rapids. Nguyễn Tuân’s vivid metaphor likened the boatman’s confrontation with the rapids to riding a tiger. The boatman gripped the oar like a rider holding onto the tiger’s mane, steadying himself through the fierce waters. The river’s cunning was evident as it used every trick to deceive the boat, but the boatman was prepared for all of it, using his wit and agility to outmaneuver the currents and reach the safe path.

By the time the boatman reached the third and final stage of his battle, his mastery over the boat and the river was clear. The river had fewer openings now, and all paths seemed to lead to death, but the boatman took the initiative, charging straight through the heart of the rapids. He steered the boat through the stone gates with skill, the boat darting through like an arrow. The scene, though filled with danger, took on a mystical quality, as if the boatman and the boat were no longer battling the river, but dancing with it, guided by the supernatural power of the boatman’s artistry. This final victory demonstrated the boatman’s brilliance as an artist of the oar.

Nguyễn Tuân’s writing always emphasizes the artistic qualities of his characters. Before the August Revolution in 1945, he focused on the scholar class, but afterward, he found beauty in the everyday lives of the laboring people. The life of the unnamed boatman, surrounded by the wild, inaccessible rapids, became a heroic saga, a masterpiece in itself. If the natural world of the Da River in Nguyễn Tuân’s work is seen as the enemy of humanity, it is also, through his pen, a place that elevates the value of human labor and perseverance.

Vũ Ngọc Phan once wrote about Nguyễn Tuân's artistic style: “Only those who enjoy contemplating can truly appreciate Nguyễn Tuân, for his writing is not for those with fleeting tastes.” Indeed, the masterful pen of this artist always aimed at capturing the most beautiful aspects of life. His essay “The Boatman of the Đà River” offers some of the most stunning depictions of nature’s grandeur and human brilliance. Notably, the image of the boatman navigating the rapids stands as perhaps the most exquisite, the most unique character Nguyễn Tuân has ever created. Through this alone, readers can grasp the exceptional artistry of the writer “who spent his life searching for beauty.”

Before 1945, Nguyễn Tuân often portrayed the artistic beauty of distinguished individuals, those whose greatness was referred to as “the glory of a bygone era,” expressing admiration and nostalgia. After 1945, Nguyễn Tuân’s aesthetic views evolved, and he turned his focus to the artistic beauty of ordinary working people in their daily lives. His essay “The Boatman of the Đà River,” written in 1960, resulted from a trip to the Northwestern region to explore its breathtaking landscapes and search for the “pure gold” in its scenery and people. Through his writing, the figure of the boatman emerges as truly striking amidst the ferocity of the Đà River. Certainly, the image of the boatman skillfully navigating the rapids remains unforgettable, a scene Nguyễn Tuân describes as unparalleled, “unprecedented.”

The boatman is depicted as a 70-year-old man with a distinctive appearance: His arms are thin, resembling the oars of his boat, his legs bent and locked, mimicking the shape of a steering paddle. His voice roars like the river before the rapids, and his gaze, intense, always seems to seek a distant shore lost in mist. In just a few strokes, Nguyễn Tuân creates a vivid and indelible image of this boatman, a man born and working on the river, spending his life battling the rapids, rocks, and waves of the Đà River to survive and build the Northwestern homeland. Against the vast and dangerous backdrop of the Đà River, Nguyễn Tuân accentuates the boatman’s artistic prowess and courage through his dangerous passage over the rapids, a fierce struggle between man and nature. The small boat and its fragile occupant face the river’s violent forces in an unequal contest, yet through skill, wisdom, and resilience, the boatman triumphs, guiding his boat through the treacherous waters with remarkable finesse.

In the first phase of the rapids, the Đà River sets up a trap with four death entrances and one escape route. Here, the water collaborates with the rocks, creating a formidable defense. The rocks stand tall and imposing, one of them seemingly challenging the boat to announce its identity before the battle begins. As the trap is laid, the boat arrives. The boatman, undaunted, confidently approaches the rapids, prepared for the first phase of the battle. The river, cunning and strategic, does not confront the boat directly but instead attacks psychologically. Previously, it had provoked the boatman with the sounds of the rapids, mocking him with a gruff voice. Now, it uses the water's roar as a force to assist the rocks. The Đà River is truly treacherous, launching its assault by “rushing in to break the oar,” “desperately attacking the boat’s sides,” “thrusting its waves against the boat’s hull,” and even “lifting the boat out of the water.” Despite this, the boatman remains composed, “holding the oars firmly to prevent them from being thrown off.” The river shifts tactics, attempting to overturn the boat by “seizing the boatman’s waist,” but the boatman remains steadfast, his skill and resolve unwavering as he faces each new challenge. The river intensifies its attacks, with waves seizing the boatman’s body, “twisting his face in pain,” but still the boatman pushes forward. His struggle is described vividly through the imagery of the river’s flashes of light, like fireflies igniting the waves. It is a battle of unequal forces, with the majestic and savage Đà River pitted against the small, but determined boatman.

In the second phase of the battle, the boatman reveals not only his courage but his intelligence and experience. Having mastered the “rules” of the river, he faces a more dangerous set of obstacles as the river increases the number of death entrances and shifts the escape route. In this phase, the boatman takes the initiative, employing swift and decisive tactics. He confidently guides the boat through the rapids, moving swiftly to avoid obstacles, at one point even “splitting the waves to create a path.” Nguyễn Tuân’s command of language is evident as he masterfully uses a series of dynamic verbs to depict the boatman’s actions: gripping, steering, propelling, avoiding, pushing. The boatman, like a great general, skillfully commands the unruly forces of the rapids. His cleverness and talent allow him to defeat the river’s forces, which retreat, defeated, “with gloomy, disappointed faces.” The river’s fierce power proves no match for the boatman’s indomitable spirit—he emerges as a true commander, overcoming the wrath of the Đà River.

The final phase of the battle showcases the river’s most devious tricks. With fewer escape routes, the only possible one is blocked by a wall of rocks, and the river’s forces intensify their assault, seeking to push the boat to its doom. The river’s deadly trap is portrayed as a metaphorical “stone gate” with rocks guarding the way and waves relentlessly attacking. The boatman must now navigate his boat through the narrowest of openings between the rocks, a daring feat that requires both agility and speed. In this critical moment, the boatman’s mastery is at its peak. His boat surges forward with extraordinary speed, cutting through the water as if it were flying, skillfully navigating the rapids with the precision of an artist. The boatman’s talent is not only in his physical strength but also in his wisdom, experience, and unshakable resolve. Finally, he triumphs over the river’s most vicious forces, emerging victorious.

The rapids of the Đà River represent one of Nguyễn Tuân’s greatest artistic achievements. The boatman, a symbol of courage and skill, defeats the ferocious river in a display of mastery and strength. The scene, though familiar from the boatman’s decades of experience, becomes something truly extraordinary under Nguyễn Tuân’s skillful pen, transforming into the most beautiful symbol of the Northwestern mountains. Each word, each sentence is crafted with such care that readers feel as though they are witnessing the boatman’s every move firsthand.

Nguyễn Tuân’s depiction of ordinary people in their everyday lives transcends the mundane. Through his artistry, he reveals their extraordinary beauty, capturing it with the grace and precision of a true artist. The boatman’s passage through the rapids, a routine part of his life, becomes an awe-inspiring spectacle of beauty and brilliance. In his search for beauty, Nguyễn Tuân has truly captured the pinnacle of aesthetic achievement. Unlike “The Prisoner’s Writing,” where he searched for beauty in a lost time, in “The Boatman of the Đà River,” Nguyễn Tuân finds beauty in the present, in the very life around him, echoing the artistic persona for which he is known—“an artist who spends his life seeking beauty.”

In his portrayal of the boatman navigating the rapids, Nguyễn Tuân creates a powerful and dramatic scene, using his mastery of language to convey the river’s fury and the boatman’s remarkable skill. Through the rapid succession of battles in the stone traps, the reader is carried from one intense moment to the next, feeling the tension, the release, and then the renewed struggle. In his quest to discover the “pure gold” of the people of the Northwestern region and the workers of Vietnam in the modern era, Nguyễn Tuân’s artistry illuminates every detail, offering a profound and loving exploration of life’s beauty.

As the pages of “The Boatman of the Đà River” come to a close, readers are left with the unforgettable image of the dangerous, menacing Đà River, the skilled and resilient boatman, and the artistic brilliance of Nguyễn Tuân. Each emotion, each image of the rapids, is etched into the reader’s memory, inviting them into a world of unique beauty, power, and wisdom—truly a horizon of beauty and artistic mastery.

In assessing Nguyễn Tuân, the writer Nguyễn Minh Châu accurately stated: “Nguyễn Tuân is a definition of an artist.” Nguyễn Tuân always sought to discover and highlight the new, the unique, things that had never been seen before in his creative journey. His essay, "The Ferryman of the Black River," is the result of his persistent creative exploration of the magnificent beauty of nature and the people of the Northwest. Through his talent and scholarly knowledge, Nguyễn Tuân left an unforgettable mark on the Black River, a river that is both violent and lyrical, where amidst the fierce rapids, the figure of a water warrior, skillful with his oar, emerges like an artist battling in a natural battlefield. This dramatic and intense image of a man overcoming the rapids is one that truly leaves a deep impression. "The Rapids Scene" depicts the ferryman navigating through three deadly rapids, facing intense forces. It’s a rare and unparalleled sight, as described in the text. Essentially, the passage is about the ferryman’s skill in overcoming the rapids and the artistic talent of Nguyễn Tuân. With his brilliant pen and aesthetic views on beauty, Nguyễn Tuân successfully created the remarkable image of the ferryman of the Black River. The ferryman, over seventy years old, is described with a body as strong as a marble statue. His chest bears scars—battle wounds from the Black River’s battlefield—which Nguyễn Tuân calls “superb labor medals.” His hands are long and bony like oars, his legs splayed, his eyes towering, and his voice booming like the roar of the rapids before the falls. Through this vivid portrayal, Nguyễn Tuân has depicted the beauty of labor and the heroic spirit of those who work with nature’s forces. The ferryman’s character is portrayed not only through his physical appearance but also through his intelligence and strength. He treats the Black River as an epic saga, knowing every stream, every bend; he understands the tactics of the river gods and stone gods. In this battle of fierce rapids, human intellect and courage emerge victorious. Nguyễn Tuân skillfully highlights the ferryman’s intellect and bravery through his depiction of the treacherous rapids. The first passage shows the ferryman’s fierce battle against the first rapids, where the river’s rocks have created a deadly trap, ready to confront him with a series of obstacles. The Black River is crafty. It doesn’t just fight through brute force; it also employs psychological warfare. First, the river taunts the ferryman with its mocking sounds. Then, it attacks with full force, aiming to break the ferryman’s oar, to push the boat off course, using forceful tactics. Nguyễn Tuân masterfully uses a range of verbs like “rushing in,” “breaking,” “striking,” and “thrusting” to describe the river’s violent assault, making the reader feel the river’s wild aggression. Despite the surprise attack, the ferryman remains calm. He uses defensive tactics to conserve energy for the upcoming challenges, holding onto the oar to prevent it from being swept away. The river then shifts tactics, trying to overturn the boat by latching onto the ferryman. But the ferryman remains steady, his mind clear, commanding his six other paddlers to navigate through the deadly rapids into a safe channel. In the second passage, Nguyễn Tuân shifts the focus from the river’s assault to the ferryman’s response—his intelligence, flexibility, and remarkable skill in navigating the rapids. In this second rapids, the ferryman faces an even greater challenge. However, his confidence is unwavering. With ten years of experience on the river, the ferryman knows the river’s tactics inside out. He philosophizes that overcoming the Black River’s rapids is like riding a tiger—there’s no stopping once you start. Thus, he decides to break through the second trap with a swift and decisive attack. Like a horse racer, the ferryman takes full control, steering the boat skillfully through the rapids. The river retaliates, trying to pull the boat into the trap, but the ferryman anticipates this, dodging the attack with quick reflexes and splitting the rocks to clear the way. The use of verbs like “seizing,” “steering,” “charging,” and “splitting” gives the sense of a fierce battle between man and nature. In the third and final rapids, the Black River tries one last time to test the ferryman. With fewer exits and more dangers, the ferryman faces a “no escape” situation, but he cleverly finds a way through. He turns the boat into an arrow and himself into a skilled archer, shooting the boat through the narrowest gap. With a burst of speed, the boat flies through the rocky archway, escaping the rapids. The verbs “shooting,” “piercing,” “slicing,” and “turning” depict the lightning-fast movements of the ferryman as he escapes the final rapids. In the end, Nguyễn Tuân presents the ferryman not just as a laborer but as an extraordinary artist in his own right. His performance in navigating the rapids is nothing short of artistic mastery. The ferryman becomes a symbol of both physical and mental strength in the pursuit of beauty, much like the author himself. Nguyễn Tuân’s “The Ferryman of the Black River” truly exemplifies the beauty of labor, courage, and artistic skill.