Six Chapters from my Life Downunder by Yang Jiang
A very curious little book - written about 10 years after the author and her husband, the famous scholar/novelist Qian Zhongshu, spent a few years in the countryside "learning from the peasants" during the Cultural Revolution.
And I admit to being completely baffled by it -- perhaps a lot was lost in translation?
The problem is --- nothing happens in those six chapters.
No drama - no death - no character study -- nothing but the kind of stuff that happens to us when we're camping out in the woods. The author's big drama was getting lost in the dark of night -- and how many times has that happened to me?
No -- wait -- there was one death -- the suicide of the author's son-in-law -- but even that event painlessly and swiftly passes by -- as we might regard a flat tire on the highway.
Even her husband, in his preface to the book, wishes she had written more -- specifically one more chapter entitled "A Sense of Shame: Participating in Political Campaigns"
And yet Yang chose to stick to the small, daily routine of life in a labor camp -- which really wasn't all that tough on them -- since, as old people, they were given easy jobs and they still had their salary - or part of it -- with which to buy food.
Perhaps the idea of this book was "We're above all this nonsense" -- in which case, even its 100 pages were way too many.
Except that this book is written about the lives of two literary celebrities -- so I suppose that context must be kept in mind. Especially the husband -- who was both a popular novelist (I wrote about his book here ) -- and -- a celebrated scholar of Classical Chinese literature -- and I can't think of any living English writer who would fit that description.
And in the long run -- they're right.
Their cultural contributions will remain -- and the trauma, madness, and suffering of millions of people during that era will be forgotten.
Most memorable event: the author builds an outhouse - by digging a pit -- surrounding it with four vertical poles -- hanging reed mats between the poles to make the three walls - and finally hanging a reed door over the entrance.
First -- the door gets stolen -- so women who use the facility must go in pairs - one to stand where the door used to be. Then -- one by one -- the walls get stolen -- and finally -=- even the shit gets stolen (it's a valuable fertilizer)-- as does every plant that the team grows in the garden.
All of which -- is a reality check on the glowing reports that well-monitored foreign visitors used to give about the honesty and high-morale that accompanied the communist revolution.
As this book -- as well as Jung Chiang's book about Mao -- amply demonstrates: this was a system that forced people to contemplate nothing beyond their own survival -- or as Lenin wrote: "Freedom is the acceptance of the necessary"
And I admit to being completely baffled by it -- perhaps a lot was lost in translation?
The problem is --- nothing happens in those six chapters.
No drama - no death - no character study -- nothing but the kind of stuff that happens to us when we're camping out in the woods. The author's big drama was getting lost in the dark of night -- and how many times has that happened to me?
No -- wait -- there was one death -- the suicide of the author's son-in-law -- but even that event painlessly and swiftly passes by -- as we might regard a flat tire on the highway.
Even her husband, in his preface to the book, wishes she had written more -- specifically one more chapter entitled "A Sense of Shame: Participating in Political Campaigns"
And yet Yang chose to stick to the small, daily routine of life in a labor camp -- which really wasn't all that tough on them -- since, as old people, they were given easy jobs and they still had their salary - or part of it -- with which to buy food.
Perhaps the idea of this book was "We're above all this nonsense" -- in which case, even its 100 pages were way too many.
Except that this book is written about the lives of two literary celebrities -- so I suppose that context must be kept in mind. Especially the husband -- who was both a popular novelist (I wrote about his book here ) -- and -- a celebrated scholar of Classical Chinese literature -- and I can't think of any living English writer who would fit that description.
And in the long run -- they're right.
Their cultural contributions will remain -- and the trauma, madness, and suffering of millions of people during that era will be forgotten.
**********
Most memorable event: the author builds an outhouse - by digging a pit -- surrounding it with four vertical poles -- hanging reed mats between the poles to make the three walls - and finally hanging a reed door over the entrance.
First -- the door gets stolen -- so women who use the facility must go in pairs - one to stand where the door used to be. Then -- one by one -- the walls get stolen -- and finally -=- even the shit gets stolen (it's a valuable fertilizer)-- as does every plant that the team grows in the garden.
All of which -- is a reality check on the glowing reports that well-monitored foreign visitors used to give about the honesty and high-morale that accompanied the communist revolution.
As this book -- as well as Jung Chiang's book about Mao -- amply demonstrates: this was a system that forced people to contemplate nothing beyond their own survival -- or as Lenin wrote: "Freedom is the acceptance of the necessary"
posted by chris miller | 4:59 PM
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