It appears to be simplicity that has lent the book its title – The Middle Mekong River Basin. Its subtitle, Studies in Tai History and Culture, only hints at the miscellaneous nature of this collection of articles. Upon reading the introductory essay in the opening chapter (Introduction: “The Tai World”) by the editor Constance M. Wilson, the reviewer's sense was that the all-encompassing real theme in the editor's mind was “the Tai world”, with the main title chosen in acknowledgement of the fact that the Mekong River has been central for this “world”. Although four individuals have contributed to the volume, more than half of its 412 pages were written by Wilson, who accounts for four out of the seven chapters. Even at first glance, this composition gives an impression of imbalance and of being far from a well-organized production.

A distinguished American historian well known for her work on Siam, Wilson is perhaps most noted for her substantial study of state and society during the fourth reign of the Bangkok dynasty. It is rather surprising, therefore, to read an introduction to “the Tai world” penned by her. As might be expected, Wilson relies heavily on previous studies in creating a sketch of her perception of “the Tai world”. In so doing, despite sporadic references to relatively recent works, she has not been persistent in her use of recent scholarship concerning each of the issues that she deals with. (As will be noted later, this is frequently the case with the other contributors to the volume as well.) For example, in her summary of the tamnan as “the earliest writing of the Tai” (p. 12) or “the earliest of the Tai records” (p. 13), Wilson follows the premise put forward by David K. Wyatt more than three decades ago, that the tamnan are the “earliest” chronicle traditions indigenous to Siam. Subsequent research on the chronicles produced in what presently constitutes the northern part of Thailand and its vicinity, which had never belonged to Siam, by many (mostly Thai) scholars has revealed that the word tamnan never occurs in an incipient, unmistakably indigenous writing such as Munlasasana,Footnote ¹ and the word itself is in no way indigenous but seems to have originated from the Khmer language. The word phün, instead, obviously represents more a time-honored, indigenous tradition.Footnote ²

More problematically, Wilson's concept of “the Tai world” evokes an uncritical essentialism when she postulates “an earlier time when the Tai world functioned as a multitude of units stretched across the Mekong region and down the Chao Phraya Valley complex …” (p. 1). The term “Tai world”, previously used in Wyatt's Thailand: A Short History (1984), for example in “the Tai World in 1200”, has become common but is seldom clearly defined. The inherently ambiguous nature of the term may well be explained by Keyes's more recent argument that “the recognition of kinship among (some) Tai-speaking peoples is a product not of objective linguistic or ethnolinguistic [sic.] characteristics but of ethnic and national processes activated first by the creation of modern nation-states and then by the recent intensified flows of people, goods, and information across the boundaries of nation-states.”Footnote ³ Having understood the “ethno-linguistic” label as such, “Tai” should at the present stage of study in this field be treated more cautiously “as a preliminary delineation of a field of interest without rushing to assumptions about a common identity or a sense of shared history” and would make for a stimulating discussion if the “primary goal is to critically examine contemporary notions of belonging in this Tai world.”Footnote ⁴ On the contrary, Wilson perceives “the Tai world” as a preexisting object to be accorded sympathy and respect, since it has been eroded by modern territorial sovereignties and is currently in a moribund state.

Wilson's sense of respect toward “the Tai world”, especially for “the Lao world”, is amply demonstrated in two chapters of the book devoted entirely to “The Jataka in Laos” (Chapter 4, “The Jataka in Laos I: Le Syvsvat (Sieo Savat)”, and Chapter 5, “The Jataka in Laos II: The Phra Lak Phra Lam”). In Chapter 4, Wilson faithfully paraphrases the tales of Sieo Savat using Anatole-Roger Peltier's French translation (Le Syvsvat[!]), published in 1971, which in turn was based on a version presumably edited by Maha Sila Viravong in 1963, and punctuates her writing with unsystematic, impressionistic comments. As for the Phra Lak Phra Lam, Wilson relies completely on Sachchidanand Sahai's English translation and interpretations, to which she adds her praise of the text as “a great work of art” or “a classic in world literature” (p. 180).

Through a reading of these two translations, Wilson expounds some sweepingly speculative views on the nature of “the Lao literature”, which might ultimately be assessed as often “incomprehensible to an outsider” (p. 133) or “a Western reader” (p. 132), because it falls “within the same conceptual world of the Lao” (p. 134). Furthermore, if one takes 1963, the inferred date of completion of Maha Sila's editing, as a reference point, her discussion is far-fetched in its claims that the particular story was produced in “a society under extreme stress … as a result of the traumas of military defeat and foreign rule, first by the Central Thai and later by the French” (p. 133). In reference to the Phra Lak Phra Lam, Wilson writes, “It is possible to interpret the Phra Lak Phra Lam as a statement of Lao cultural nationalism, a very positive one” (p. 175). And with regard to the date of the manuscript used by Sahai, that is, 1850, Wilson speculates that “it is possible … some of the episodes described in the Phra Lak Phra Lam might serve to recall those desperate times,” considering this as a “social memory” (p. 176) concerning the defeat of Vientiane's army in 1827–1829. Such unfounded methods of reasoning could lead to any possible interpretation.

It is intriguing to note that Wilson's treatment of the “Lao” category in some respects resembles today's Lao nationalist discourse, what Vatthana Pholsena describes as the recent and growing “indigenous civilization” narrative, promoted by Lao historians and archaeologists in Laos after 1975.Footnote ⁵ Nevertheless, one cannot but wonder how a Lao national would perceive Wilson's sympathy considering that this book is meant for Western readers, as is overtly indicated throughout with frequently inserted casual remarks such as “For a Western reader” (p. 132), “unexpectedly (to the Western reader),” and “rarely discussed in the standard Western studies but which may have been of more importance in Laos” (p. 121; italics mine).

Wilson's rather superficial observations of the texts and judgments on the Lao history correspond to her tendency of being content with utilizing only English and French translations. With regard to other yet-to-be translated Lao texts, Wilson is of the opinion that “once their translations into English become available, further analysis of Lao literature will be made possible to English language readers” (p. 180). In the light of the abundance of technically unsophisticated passages in the book, such as an inexpert note about the betel-chewing habit which states that “this was once very popular in Southeast Asia” (p. 126), Wilson's target audience appears, in fact, to be lay students whose first language is English.

A convincing argument has been put forward elsewhere on how the conceptualization and manufacturing of “the Lao literature” proceeded as a reflection of the influence of the print media and nationalism and how Maha Sila, the driving force behind creating a literary canon of “the Lao literature”, “corrected” or altered the existing manuscripts. This is not discussed, though the relevant study is listed in Wilson's bibliography.Footnote ⁶ Prior to the commencement of this reinventing process, there was a “lack of an overarching editing, publishing, or educational system or standards”.Footnote ⁷ Accordingly, in recent scholarship, more and more attention is being paid to “the benefit of using manuscripts rather than printed texts or transliterations [not to mention translations into Western languages] when studying Southeast Asian religion and literature” (ibid.). Anyone seriously interested in the Lao texts should be reminded that The Digital Library of Lao Manuscripts (DLLM) has just become accessible for study. The DLLM website (www.laomanuscripts.net), comprising 6,173 retrievable texts, was launched in September 2009, and it has been announced that the entire collection of almost 12,000 manuscript texts from throughout Laos will be made available in late 2010. A tentative search for the Siao Savat text within the DLLM database returns sixty-three hits for the text in three different scripts, ranging from 1845 to 1959 among dated manuscripts.

Wilson's other contribution in the volume (Chapter 7, “Tribute, Insignia, and the Royal Gift: The Assimilation of Elites in the Khorat Plateau and the Middle Mekong Valley to Central Thai Court Culture during the Nineteenth Century”) deals with the relationship between the Siamese (Central Thai) court and the middle Mekong River basin region. Wilson concludes that the gifts and rituals under the tribute system “encouraged the people in the region to assimilate to central Thai court culture and practices,” and that, “in turn, this assimilation contributed to the processes of state consolidation as the population centers along the west bank of the Mekong River were brought into Bangkok's formal administrative network” (pp. 271–72). At the end of the piece is attached a lengthy list of gifts and tributes dug up from the Chotmaihet (documents) of the first five Bangkok reigns housed in the National Library in Bangkok. While tangible and fascinating, they are fragmentary and bear little relation to the process of assimilation that Wilson is proposing. Based solely on the Central Thai records, Wilson still demonstrates a strong tendency to analyze the regional situation from Bangkok's standpoint and on the assumption of the final outcome of demarcation, with the Mekong River serving as the national boundary, whereas up until 1893, the Mekong River was not so much of a decisive dividing line. (The latter point is, in fact, what Mark Askew emphasizes in the same volume by advocating “the Lao Culture Region.”)

Even from the overall Central Thai perspective, the theme of “the Tai world” occasionally crops up: “Some of the actions of the Central Thai in 1778–79 and 1827 [1867?] can be interpreted as an attempt to present themselves as the center of Buddhism in the Tai world” (p. 288). This is just another illustration of Bangkok-centered oversimplification, which at the same time reveals an anachronistic perception. The well-known centrality of Chiang Mai in regional Buddhism aside, it has been interestingly noted that during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, Vientiane also had the status of an important regional center for religious studies that attracted monks from Siam and Cambodia.Footnote ⁸ This situation suggests that in the context of regional history, religious interactions do not always coincide with changes in the political situation. Wilson writes that “Buddhism, with its shared features between the Lao and the Central Thai, could serve as a way to assimilate the Lao into Central Thai …” (pp. 21–22). Though it is unclear what shared features are assumed, such an all-embracing centralized kind of Buddhism might have been conceived only by a handful of Bangkok elites and a limited number of moving monks, if at all (see McDaniel's above-cited study, which details the persistence of regional Buddhism outside Central Thailand through analysis of local manuscripts and teaching practices). In any event, the effect of the elitist Buddhist endeavor could never have surpassed the assimilation policy of the modern apparatus of state, which Wilson apparently considers to have been a success.

A few remarks on the other contributions in the volume need to be mentioned in relation to the previously raised points.

The understanding of the word tamnan by Ratanaporn Sethakul (Chapter 2, “The Tai Chiang in the Upper Mekong River Basin: Their Origins and Historical Significance”) accords with that of the editor. Ratanaporn likewise depends entirely on published tamnan, which she describes as a motley of various kinds of transliterated or translated texts, including a modern Siamese compilation of Phongsawadan Yonok. Patching fragments of stories together into a continuous picture of Tai chiang on the supposition that “proto-historical evidence” (p. 30) was included in tamnan is surely a methodology that should now be discarded. The Tai chiang referred to here is an abstract, ahistorical conception. It would be better not to lump Chiang Mai together with Chiang Rai, King Mangrai's temporary place of abode, under the ambiguous name of “capital” simply because they are both called chiang.

Through comparative linguistics and literature, John Hartmann seeks to “demonstrate the connectivity of Tai language and culture along the corridor of the Middle Mekong River” (p. 83). Since “the emergence of Tai writing along the Mekong is a fascinating history” (p. 61) for him, he extracts an almost verbatim translation from the pages of Thawat Phunnotok's outdated book (published in 1979) on Isan literature, deeming it the “best” summary, where we come across such a description as “… when King Ram Khamhaeng decided to use a Thai alphabet for all government affairs dealing with the lands of the Lan Xang Kingdom, which was part of the Sukhothai empire, Luang Prabang presumably had to agree to accept the metropolitan script” (p. 63). Suffice it to say that Thawat has himself subsequently written a much more sophisticated and reliable account of the various scripts used in Northeastern Thailand.Footnote ⁹

Mark Askew's article (Chapter 6, “Urbanism and the Lao Culture Region: An Interpretation of the Significance of the Pre-Modern Lao Urban Landscape”) seems to overlap significantly with another book by him and two others, which makes it difficult to provide an adequate assessment of this single-authored piece on its own.Footnote ¹⁰ Apart from the question of the appropriateness of “the Lao Culture Region” perspective, one apparent drawback in common with the other contributors to the present volume is his methodology in the use of written sources. With the excuse that “we have no choice but to use the chronicles to study the early period of Lan Xang” (p. 219), Askew again heavily relies on the English translation of Maha Sila's version of History of Laos, which was originally intended for schoolchildren.Footnote ¹¹ The resulting perspective on the larger “Lao Culture Region” straddling the Mekong River (p. 201) is not a particularly innovative idea, for the Lao “nationalist history does not take (only) the present-day national territory as its space” (Pholsena, note 5).

As is clear from the above, this book does not make for particularly enlightening reading, which may not be justified by the fact that it originated with a conference panel held way back in 1998. Quite bothersome are the multiple proofreading errors, especially in names and dates. It is regrettable if time had run out before further editing work might have been done. Fortunately, however, we are aware that this is not typical of “the standard Western studies” on “the Tai world”.