Top 8 Key Insights for Analyzing the Work 'The Boatman of the Da River' by Nguyen Tuan

The grandeur and imposing nature of the Da River are immediately apparent in the depiction of the rocky riverbanks: 'The river’s rocky banks rise like fortress walls, and only at noon does the sun touch the water here. The stone cliffs press in on the river, narrowing it like a throat. From one shore, if you lightly toss a stone across to the other side, there’s a gap wide enough for a deer or a tiger to leap from one bank to the other. Sitting in the boat as it crosses this narrow stretch, even in the summer heat, one feels an eerie chill, as if standing in a cramped alley, staring up at a window on a far-off upper floor where the light has just flickered out.'

The rock formations along the riverbanks are described as towering fortresses, with comparisons and imagery that vividly bring the Da River to life in the reader’s mind. The river is portrayed as dangerous, with its narrow passage intensifying the swift current. Imagine a boat caught in that narrow gap—unable to move forward or backward, it’s at the mercy of the violent water and jagged rocks.

Nguyen Tuan invites the reader to feel the experience as though they were the boatman navigating through these steep cliffs. The unexpected chill, compared to standing in the heat of summer in a claustrophobic alley, adds an atmospheric tension. This eloquent description demonstrates Nguyen’s mastery of language and his profound skill in creating a sensory experience through his writing.

Just like the rocky riverbanks, 'the stretch of the Loong Rapids, spanning several kilometers, where the water crashes against the rocks, the rocks clash with the waves, and the waves are met by the wind, creating a whirlwind that howls all year round as if demanding repayment from any boatman foolish enough to navigate this treacherous stretch.' The repetitive structure: 'water crashes against the rocks, rocks clash with the waves, waves meet the wind' emphasizes the danger of this violent river, ready to claim the life of any careless boatman. There is no direct description of the rapids themselves, yet the reader can clearly visualize the furious river.

The long stretch of rapids on the river’s surface creates violent waves, which in turn produce fierce winds that whistle through the area year-round. Here, the river takes on the persona of a dangerous enemy, with the personification of the river as a capricious, vengeful force demanding 'repayment' and never letting anyone escape its wrath. This is where the true ferocity of the Da River comes to life. The coincidence, or perhaps the intentional pairing, of the river's characteristics with the place name 'Hát Loóng' adds another layer of meaning. The name itself almost forces one to pause and catch their breath, as if traversing this treacherous section of the river, with its waves, rocks, and rapids, is a challenge for both the boatman and the reader.

The water whirlpools in the Tà Mường Vát area beneath Sơn La are even more frightening. 'The water here seems to breathe and groan like a clogged drain. At the center of the whirlpool, it spins relentlessly, as if a flock of crows is circling. No boat dares approach these whirlpools; those who pass by row quickly, like a car shifting gears and accelerating to pass a dangerous stretch of road. They paddle fast, steering steadily, racing past deep wells where the water churns like boiling oil being poured in. Some boats have been sucked down by the whirlpool, flipping upside down and disappearing, only to resurface minutes later, broken and scattered in the bends of the river.'

These are deadly traps! Using unique metaphors and personification, Nguyen Tuân paints the water as something that 'breathes and groans,' a terrifying image that will send a shiver down anyone’s spine. But he doesn’t stop there, pushing the limits of perception with comparisons to a clogged drain. When the current is strong, it 'breathes and groans,' and the author describes the whirlpool’s depth: it spins to the bottom, like a deep well, showcasing the force of the water; its breadth: turning slowly like a flock of crows; the sound: deep, bubbling like boiling oil; and the danger: boats sucked under, flipped over, and dragged into the depths, resurfacing only after several minutes. Nguyen Tuân’s vivid imagery not only makes the boatmen feel terrified but also lets the reader experience that terror firsthand. To cross these waters, one must row quickly, as if shifting gears to speed past a treacherous stretch of road. The words hit the reader’s senses hard, evoking feelings of fear and discomfort.

Nguyen Tuân uses repetition and metaphors to create a hauntingly real sensation. He imagines himself as a daring cameraman, willing to throw himself into the river’s whirlpool to transmit the fear. Sitting in a small boat, he lets himself be carried away by the water’s pull. Looking up from the bottom of the whirlpool, he sees the cliffs towering overhead. The boat and camera spin as the water above turns into a jade-green glow, like a thick crystal ready to shatter and engulf the viewer. Nguyen Tuân’s writing flows like the Da River itself, detailed and cinematic, showcasing his deep understanding of both language and film.

The roar of the waterfall is even more terrifying! 'It’s like a cry of vengeance, then like a plea, and then a taunting challenge, with a harsh and mocking tone. The roar of the waterfall sounds like a thousand wild buffaloes thrashing through a burning bamboo forest, breaking through the flames, roaring together in a firestorm.' Through masterful use of metaphor, personification, and vivid comparisons, Nguyen Tuân presents a majestic yet dangerous waterfall. For the first time in literature, someone uses fire to describe water—two destructive elements that are opposites, as fire cannot exist with water, and water cannot exist with fire.

Yet Nguyen Tuân, like a master artist, manages to make this work! In the reader’s mind, there is a vast bamboo forest burning, thousands of trees crackling in the flames. But that’s not all—in the burning forest, thousands of strong buffaloes run wild, their scorching hides causing them to thrash around in panic, smashing into trees and creating explosive sounds. The imagery strikes the reader’s nerves, making the scene feel vivid and alive. The river here is portrayed as a cunning trickster, using every tactic to provoke the boatman. It knows how to express resentment, plea, and mock, like a villain, always scheming—a true enemy of humanity.

Accompanying the thunderous roar of the waterfall is the 'frothy wave that turns the entire sky into a white foam. The stones here, aged over thousands of years, lie hidden beneath the river’s surface. Each stone looks rebellious, twisted and deformed, more grotesque than the water itself.' The Da River has assigned each rock its role, creating a deadly military formation. When describing this stony battleground, the author uses knowledge from both military strategy and sports to clarify the setup.

The first battle formation: The Da River sets up five gates, four of which are deadly and one that offers a way out. The gate offering hope is hazy, located on the left bank. Guarding this gate are two stones that appear weak but actually serve to lure the boat into the middle of the river. In this formation, the waves take the lead in attacking the boat. As soon as the boat enters the battlefield, the waves charge fiercely: 'The water roars, surging around the boat, breaking the oars and weaponizing them against the crew. The waves strike the boat from all angles, like a horde of desperate soldiers, battering the hull, slamming it with their knees and sides. Sometimes they even lift the boat from the water. The water clings to the boat like a wrestler trying to flip the boat over in the middle of the deafening battle.' The first battle sees the waves as a relentless enemy testing the boatman, but with skill and courage, the boatman manages to survive.

Having passed the first trap, the boatman faces the second formation: 'More deadly gates are set up to mislead the boat, while the escape route is placed further on the right shore. The thundering waves rush at the boat like a predator chasing its prey.' In this close-quarters battle, the waves are determined to destroy the boat. After the boat has managed to pass, the waves and rocks continue to taunt, though the rocks seem defeated, their faces now looking disheartened and green with failure. The waves and stones launch their deadliest moves in this intense fight!

The third formation: Fewer gates remain, with the left and right sides filled with death traps. The only safe passage is right in the middle, guarded by the waterfall’s rear defense. At this stage, the submerged bunkers and rising stone forts must now try to overwhelm the boat. This reminds us of a fierce football match, where the boat, like a player, must charge forward, weaving through the gates, dodging them, and aiming straight for the goal. Like a dart piercing through mist, the boatman’s skillful navigation takes him past the dangers, eventually leading him to safety. The match ends with the boatman emerging victorious, with 'the skillful hands at the helm.'

The Da River is like a monstrous beast, aggressive and cunning, setting traps with stones and water to annihilate any boat on its path—a force of nature from the North West with the 'appearance and mind of the ultimate enemy.' The river is relentless, 'year after year, it throws tantrums against the people of the Northwest, retaliating indiscriminately against the boatmen of the Da River.' No wonder the river is forever linked with the myth of Sơn Tinh and Thủy Tinh: 'The mountains are high, the river still long – Five years of vengeance, eternal battles of jealousy.'

Unlike other artists of his time, Nguyễn Tuân’s journey to Tây Bắc – a region before the revolution – was a profound one. He arrived there with a nostalgic rush, like a deer returning to its old waters. His prose, akin to poetic verses, beautifully describes the landscape, with golden rice valleys, rocky formations, winds sweeping through the sky, and radiant sunlight. However, Nguyễn Tuân’s passion was solely focused on capturing the Đà River, which he believed embodied the essence of the mountains and rivers of Tây Bắc. To truly experience Tây Bắc, one must witness the Đà River, as only here does the majesty and splendor of nature truly come to life. It’s for this reason that Nguyễn Tuân dedicated 15 essays to the Đà River, naming them “Essays on the Đà River.”

In his writing, Nguyễn Tuân used personification to breathe life into the river, treating it as a character of its own. He wrote as though he was introducing his creation to the world, infusing it with his own spirit. Through his words, the Đà River twists and stirs with energy on each page. The river’s true beauty and form are only revealed through Nguyễn Tuân’s pen. He didn’t just describe its origin; he ‘birthed’ the river. He didn’t say the Đà River flows from China into Vietnam but instead wrote that the river “applied for Vietnamese citizenship.” He didn’t describe its spread across the country; he portrayed it as a river “growing up.” With this approach, the Đà River became a living, breathing entity, and Nguyễn Tuân rightfully earned his title as a master linguist, known for his unparalleled ability to dissect every detail of language.

Nguyễn Tuân was drawn to the Đà River because, as a traveler and a believer in wanderlust, he embraced the philosophy of movement and exploration. The theme of wanderlust was borrowed from Western literature, and Nguyễn was greatly influenced by the French author A. Gide, a pioneer of the wanderlust movement in France. Writers who delve into this theme often explore roads, vehicles, rivers, and wild waterfalls. Tây Bắc, with its fierce Đà River, provided the perfect backdrop. The river even made its way into the poetry of Nguyễn Quang Bích:

“All rivers flow eastward

The Đà River uniquely flows north.”

While most rivers follow the Eastward flow, the Đà River breaks convention, flowing north. A river with such a distinct personality meets a writer with an equally unique style, captured by Professor Nguyễn Đăng Mạnh in the word “boldness.” On the Vietnamese literary scene, stunning works emerged about rivers and waters.

Writers who explore the theme of wanderlust are also driven to travel, seeking new perspectives and fresh inspiration. Nguyễn Tuân shared this trait, rejecting the mundane in favor of the extraordinary. This idea resonates with the great artists, as Maxim Gorky once said, “the ordinary is the death of art.” Nam Cao, in “The Surplus Life,” also wrote, “Literature doesn’t need skilled craftsmen following a few prescribed patterns.” The Đà River’s distinctive nature became an endless source of inspiration for Nguyễn Tuân, fueling the development of his bold and unconventional style.

Nguyễn Tuân brilliantly captures the ferocity of the Đà River in this essay. The river is violent, filled with countless waterfalls and rapids:

“The road to Mường Lễ is far

With one hundred and seven waterfalls and one hundred and three rapids.”

(Folk verse)

This violence is further symbolized by its rebellious flow: “All rivers flow eastward – The Đà River uniquely flows north,” a current that refuses to follow conventional paths. As previously mentioned, the Đà River originates in China and ‘applies for Vietnamese citizenship.’ It winds through treacherous mountain terrains. As a result, the upper reaches of the river are rife with dangerous waterfalls, deadly currents, and swirling whirlpools. From this, Nguyễn identified the river’s extraordinary fierce traits. However, as it flows downstream, the river’s energy softens. The rapids disappear, and the river moves gently, serenely, through lush banks, presenting an entirely romantic, poetic, and lyrical side. Additionally, Nguyễn found the river’s fierceness not just in the violent waterfalls and deadly currents but also in the mysterious, desolate stretches, nestled between the dense forests and towering mountains of Tây Bắc.