Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Ninety Minutes with Mo Yan (莫言), I: The Author Talks About two of His Recent Novels:

The San Litun (三里屯) street on the east side of Beijing, near Chaoyang Park, is known mainly for its bars and, more recently, the brand-spanking new and very upscale Village Shopping Mall. However, one of the best things about this area is arguably the small independent bookstore located at the south end of the so-called “bar street”. The name of this place is the “Bookworm”.

Its owner is a 50-something British expat named Alexandra Pearson. Her establishment is not only a small but good independent bookstore, but also functions as a lending library and is a pretty nice restaurant and bar to boot. The food is good and, compared to other upscale Western dining establishments in the capital, not that pricey. Moreover, there are plenty of comfortable seats and sofas in one of the back rooms, wireless internet, and excellent techno and acid jazz music in the background. All of this makes the Bookworm a good place to spend a cold winter afternoon reading a book or surfing the web over one or two or three lattes (or a bit of wine).

But the best thing about the Bookworm is the annual literary festival (读书节) it holds in March. Last year I got to see Rob Gifford, NPR's former China correspondent, talk about and then sign his terrific new book, CHINA ROAD. And this year I heard Jasper Becker discuss his great new history of Beijing, CITY OF HEAVENLY TRANQUILITY (I've referred to that work quite often in recent blog posts).

However, the high point of this year's festival came after the Becker talk. I and the small handful of other people lucky enough to have gotten tickets for the event—it sold out very quickly—got to spend a little over ninety minutes with the Chinese novelist Mo Yan (莫言) and his English translator, Howard Goldblatt. A recent photo of Yan is at the top of this blog post.

Mo Yan is arguably China's greatest living novelist. This year he won the Newman Prize and last year, he was the first mainland Chinese writer invited to give the keynote address at the Modern Language Association's annual convention (he addressed the 2008 San Francisco meeting). And Yan is the one mainland China writer who has a decent shot at winning the Nobel Prize for literature. Thus seeing Yan in person and listening to him discuss his work has to rank as one of the high points of my ongoing China adventure.

Mo Yan is best known for his early big, sprawling epic novel (史诗著作) RED SORGHUM (红高粱), mainly because it was made into film by Zhang Yimou (张艺谋) starring Gong Li (巩俐) (see the above photos). Most of his subsequent novels have been translated into English, including THE REPUBLIC OF WINE (酒国), THE GARLIC BALLADS (天堂蒜台之歌), BIG BREASTS AND WIDE HIPS (丰乳肥臀) and LIFE AND DEATH ARE WEARING ME OUT (生死疲劳).




The first two novels translated after RED SORGHUM, THE GARLIC BALLADS and THE REPUBLIC OF WINE, were relatively short satires and lacked the former's historical breath. By contrast, BIG BREAST AND WIDE HIPS, whose story focuses on a family of women, is a generally unflattering romp through the first half of 20th Century China. Yan's latest novel to be translated, LIFE AND DEATH ARE WEARING ME OUT, does the same thing for the New China.

Yan spent nearly all of his time discussing LIFE AND DEATH ARE WEARING ME OUT and the novel Goldblatt is currently translating, THE SANDALWOOD TORTURE (檀香刑) (Yan finished writing the latter novel in 2001). Like most of Yan's fiction, both novels are set in his Shandong Province hometown of Gaomi (高密). However, the second one is more historical, with the story taking place during the Boxer (义和拳) Rebellion.

The Boxer Rebellion originated in Shandong (山东) Province and was sparked by resistance to German colonization of this area. One well known legacy of German imperialism in China is the famous Qingdao (青岛) beer. The Germans built the Qingdao brewery in that city, along with many lovely old buildings, including the Governor's Mansion, several churches (教堂), and a number of villas (别墅). This architecture, along with the beer, beautiful seaside, and relatively clear air, make Qingdao one of China's most attractive cities.

In addition to bringing beer to China, the Germans also built a railroad (铁路) from Qingdao to Jinan (济南), which is the capital of and largest city in Shandong Province. Yan talked about why the peasants became very angry about the construction of the railroad. His interesting and frank comments differed greatly from what the history textbooks (历史课本) here have to say about this matter.

Yan said that the peasants struggled against the Germans not because they opposed imperialism—indeed, many had no concept of what that meant—but because the railroad was built through graveyards (墓地). It was thus seen as disturbing the area's “feng shui” (风水) or harmony, both with nature and the people's dead ancestors. So the Germans would build the railroad during the day, only to have much of that construction dismantled by the peasants during the night.

Yan noted that the peasants were initially terrified of the railroad. In particular, they could not fathom how such heavy object like a train (火车) could move so fast on its own. The farmers wondered what kind food the train ate, while the area's bandits were convinced that the engines (发动机) of the locomotives (火车头) were filled with gold (金).

The Germans brutally suppressed this uprising, torturing and then cruelly executing its ringleaders, much like they did to the rebelling Nanimbian tribesmen in Southwest Africa during the so-called “Hottentot War”. Interestingly enough, I vaguely remember reading in the excellent German newspaper, DIE ZEIT, that the latter effort was led by close relative of the future Nazi Reichsmarschall Herman Göring.

But to be fair and even-handed here, every other colonial power during this time behaved in a similar fashion. During the Boer War, for example, the British herded Boer women and children into squalid concentration camps, where large numbers perished from disease and inadequate food. And the Americans slaughtered a quarter million Filipinos in surpressing the struggle for independence that broke out in Philippines during the Spanish American War's not so splendid aftermath (William Hay referred to the conflict as “That Splendid Little War”—a sick joke if there ever was one!!).

Of course, graphic violence and torture is nothing new to Yan's fiction. In RED SORGHUM, one of the main characters, the leader of one of the anti-Japanese guerilla groups, is flayed alive by the Japanese (this scene comes near the end of Zhang Yimou's film adaptation of the book). However, in this newer novel, the theme of execution (处决) plays a much more central role. At least during his talk, Yan stated emphatically that he wanted to create characters that would make his novel a meditation on the morality of capital punishment.

After making this comment, Yan talked at length about the history of executions in China, especially how they could be seen as theatrical events. In particular, the criminals who were about to be executed were expected to perform. Yan stated that such performances mainly consisted of reciting two lines from Song Dynasty (宋朝) operas. One went, “If you cut off my head, it will only leave scars on both sides”, while the other one was, “In 20 years, I'll be another great guy!”

According to Yan, if the condemned uttered these lines with the requisite sang foid, they would receive a big round of applause from the crowd. Yan went on to say that while a lot is known about the behavior of crowds and the condemned at public executions, the executioners have largely been ignored, adding that he wondered whether or not they had “bad dreams” (不好的梦). Thus one of main characters in THE SANDALWOOD TORTURE is an executioner (刽子手).

I suspect that very few of China's current executioners actually have bad dreams over their work. At least the one interviewed in Sang Ye's terrific compilation of interviews, CHINA CANDID: THE PEOPLE ON THE PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC, seemed to have no qualms about his job (that interview is entitled “Parting Shot”). Indeed, the very matter of fact and clinical way he describes the execution process is really chilling and disturbing, probably far more so than Yan's prose in THE SANDALWOOD TORTURE, which Goldblatt at one point called “stomach-turning”.

I should say here that CHINA CANDID really is a must-read book. All of the interviews in it are very illuminating, dealing with a wide range of issues, including migrant workers, parents organizing over their abducted children, the problems of the handicapped, and the winners from China's economic reforms. But be warned, a few of the conversations are, like the one with the executioner, very unsettling to say the least. This is particularly true regarding the interview with a Shenzhen hooker, who uses extremely frank and graphic language in talking about her work.

I thus expect that once THE SANDALWOOD TORTURE has been translated, people outside of China will either love it or hate it. Not only does it have the “stomach turning” descriptions of executions, but all of this is juxtaposed against a love story!

The same can also certainly be said for the most recent Mo Yan novel to be translated into English, LIFE AND DEATH ARE WEARING ME OUT. This story is set in the Cultural Revolution (文化大革命) and decade that preceded it. When he wasn't discussing THE SANDALWOOD TORTURE, Yan talked about this book, particularly how it was rooted in his childhood memories of that period of time.

One of the novel's main characters is based on a fellow who had a cart in Yan's old village. Yan said that this man was called “Blueface” because of a peculiar birthmark on his face. He added that Blueface was a very stubborn individual, citing a Chinese saying to describe him, “Stone in the outhouse, hard and stinky” (at least that's how the translator at the talk put it; none of my Chinese friends have been able to give me the Mandarin equivalent).

Yan stated that unlike everyone else in the village, Blueface didn't belong to any collective unit. He and his family thus faced a lot of social pressure from the other villagers, particularly during the Cultural Revolution. At that point, this pressure became so great that Blueface hanged himself. Yan said that he opposed Blueface as a child, but now thinks that this man did the right thing in resisting the pressure to conform.

Yan further noted that during this period, the village chief exercised very tight control over the villager's lives. Farmers went to the fields to work in the morning after the village chief rang a bell. And the farmers could not go to the market without the chief's permission. As Yan put it, discipline in the collective was very much like that of a military unit.

Today, of course, things are completely different and rural residents enjoy much personal freedom in going about their day-to-day lives. This important change is frequently overlooked or downplayed by western critics of China, including several of my own friends back in the states.

The potagonist (主人公) of LIFE AND DEATH ARE WEARING ME OUT is a landowner who is executed in the 1950s. Yan stated that many mistakes were made during this period and that lots innocent people were persecuted. In the novel, the landowner appeals to the lord of the underworld to get reborn as a human being so he can return to the village and take his revenge.

However, over the next 50 years, he is instead reborn as four animals—pig (猪), dog (狗), horse (马), and monkey (猴子)—before being reborn as a human being. And when he is finally reborn as a human being, he is given an abnormally large head (头)! Yan noted that this death and rebirth form a circle, further adding that Chinese peasant life is also like a circle. He sees the changes in China through the eyes of different animals and in this latest novel, animals often take over the narrative from human beings.

This is not the first time in Yan's fiction that animals have assumed a quasi-human nature. One of the most violent and disturbing scenes in RED SORGHUM is the attack mounted by a pack of wild dogs against the small village at the center of the novel's story. In this particular passage, the leader of the dog pack is turned into a clever and astute field commander who outwits the villagers.

Yan stated that his fascination with animals and the role they play in his fiction is very much rooted in his childhood. He was kicked out of school during the 5th grade for smoking a cigarette. Yan said that he then spent most of his adolescence tending farm animals. In fact, Yan noted that during this period, he had far more interaction with animals than he did with humans and barely remembers his classmates. He added that this made him appreciate just how clever some of these animals are, especially pigs.

During the Cultural Revolution, Yan became a farmer, but then joined the People's Liberation Army (PLA; 人民解放军) in 1976. He first served in a cultural affairs unit and was subsequently appointed to teach literature at the PLA cultural Academy in 1981. There he began writing fiction and the rest, as they say, is history!

According to a statement I shagged off of the internet from Howard Goldblatt, LIFE IS AND DEATH ARE WEARING ME OUT “puts a human (and frequently bestial) face on the revolution and is replete with the dark humor, metafictional insertions, and fantasies that Yan's readers have come to expect and enjoy.” And the NEW YORK TIMES says that LIFE AND DEATH ARE WEARING ME OUT is a “wildly visionary and creative novel”.

So perhaps this book will help Yan win a Nobel Prize for literature. In any case, I'm looking forward to reading the English translation of 生死疲劳 (LIFE AND DEATH ARE WEARING ME OUT) in the not too distant future and certainly hope to someday read it, along with most of Yan's other work, in Chinese (I have read RED SORGHUM and his collection of short stories, also translated by Goldblatt, SHIFOU, YOU’LL DO ANYTIHING FOR A LAUGH).

The Chinese characters used in this post, along with their Romanized spelling (Pinyin) and tones are listed below. A number 1 indicates that the character has a flat tone, a number 2, a rising tone, a number 3, a falling rising tone, a number 4, a falling tone, and a number 5, a neutral tone.

莫言 (mo4yan2). This is his “pen name,”which means “not to speak”. His real name is管谟业 (guan3mo2ye4).
读书节 (du2shu1jie2). “读书” also means “to study” or “to study a book”, while “节” is the Mandarin word for “festival”.
史诗著作 (shi3shi1zhu4zuo4). According to my very literary Chinese friend, Lu Hongyan (路红艳), the Chinese wouldn't regard RED SORGHUM as an “epic” work. That honor would be reserved for a classic like DREAM OF RED CHAMBERS (红楼梦; hong2lou2meng4).
红高粱 (hong2gao1liang5). “红” means “red” and “高粱” is the word for “sorghum”.
酒国 (jiu3guo2). “酒” is the general Chinese term for alcoholic beverage, while “国” is a shortened form of the word for “nation” or “kingdom”, “国家” (guo2jia1).
天堂蒜台之歌 (tian1tang2suan3tai2zhi1ge1). “蒜” is the shortened form of garlic, but when put with “台” or, less frequently “苔” (tai2; this word can mean “moss”), it's another vegetable. “之” is a shortened form of the word “between” or “among” (之间; zhi1jian1), while “歌” is the noun “song”.
丰乳肥臀 (feng1ru3fei2tun2). “丰” means “bountiful” and “乳” is shortened form of the word for “breast”, or “乳房” (ru3fang2). “肥” is the noun “fat”, so the Chinese expression for losing weight, “减肥” (jian3fei2) means “lose fat”. Mandarin has a different character for the adjective “fat”, which is “胖” (pang4). “臀” doesn't actually mean “hips”, but is instead the noun “buttocks” or “ass”. So literally translated, this novel's title is “Bountiful Breasts, Fat Ass”.
生死疲劳 (sheng1si3pi2lao2). “生” is a shortened form of the word for “life” (生活; sheng1huo2) and “死” means “death”. “疲劳” functions both as the adjective “weary” and the noun “fatigue”.
檀香刑 (tan2xiang1xing2). “檀香” menas “sandalwood”, while “刑” is the word for “punishment”.
义和拳 (yi4he2quan2). The real Chinese name for the Boxers is the Society of Righteous Fists; “义和” means “righteous” and “拳” functions as three nouns, namely “fist”, “boxing”, and “pugilism”. The character for “hand” (手; shou3) at the bottom of this character provides a clue about its meaning.
教堂 (jiao4tang2).
别墅 (bie2shu4).
铁路 (tie3lu4). This literally means “iron (铁) road/path (路)”.
历史课本 (li4shi3ke4ben3). “历史” is the word for “history,” while “课本” is the word for “textbook”.
墓地 (mu4di4).
火车 (huo3che1). This combination literally means “fire (火) vehicle” (车).
发动机 (fa1dong4ji1).
火车头 (huo3che1tou2). Literally translated, this means “train (火车) head (头)”. This “头” is human/animal anatomy “head”, not to someone in charge of an organization or task. 金 (jin1).
处决 (chu3jue2). This word is the noun form of the verb “execute(d)”, which is 处死(了) (chu3si3[le5])
宋朝 (Song4chao2). “朝” is the word for “dynasty”.
不好的梦 (bu4hao3de5meng4). “不好” means “bad/no good”, while “梦” is the word for dreams. The Chinese word for “nightmare” is 噩梦 (e4meng4). “噩” on its own is “shocking”.
刽子手 (gui4zi5shou3). “死刑执行人” (si3xing4zhi2xing2ren2) is a more formal, written term for these individuals; “死刑” means “death (死) penalty/punishment (刑)”.
文化大革命 (wen2hua4da4ge2ming4). “文化” means “culture/cultural”, “大” “big”, and “革命” “revolution”.
主人公 (zhu3ren2gong1). The Chinese word for “antagonist” is “反面人物” and the “反” in this word means “to oppose” or “rebel”. An ordinary character in a work of fiction is a “人物” (ren2wu4), while a “cast of characters” is a “人物表”. And a “minor character” is a “次要人物” (ci4yao4ren2wu4). Finally, the word for “role” is “角色” (jue2se4).
猪 (zhu1).
狗 (gou3).
马 (ma3).
猴子 (hou3zi5).
人民解放军 (ren2min2jie3fang4jun1). “人民” stands for “people”, “解放” “liberation”, and “军” for “army”. Thus the Chinese name for the famous World War II 8th Route Army is 八 (8) 路 (route) 军 (army) (ba1lu4jun1). “Military” is “军事” (jun1shi4) or, more literally, “army (军) matters/affairs (事)”.

1 comment:

Unknown said...

The "stone in the outhouse" line is probably a 歇后语 two-part saying: 茅坑里的石头——又臭又硬