Etiqueta: literatura xinesa

Stories from the suburbs: marginality and hope in Beijing

Where By sifuroIn 3 stars , Chinese character , BooksLeave a comment

Today I'm talking about a book called Historias del extrarradio , published by Automàtica Editorial. The author is Xu Zechen, a Chinese writer who has a younger and more current voice than the authors you usually find on this blog, such as Yu Hua or Yan Lianke .

I had already had my first contact with this author when I read Running through Beijing in English. I remember that reading it left me with a slightly strange feeling, perhaps because of the translation. I often find that translations from Chinese to English are not very flexible, a bit garbled, and on that occasion it made the text seem more like a documentary than a literary work. In that case, the story focused on characters who sold fake CDs and the language didn't really give me much. On the other hand, this Spanish edition of Historias del extrarradio has convinced me much more and has reconciled me with the author.

The struggle for survival in marginal Beijing

In this book, Xu Zechen tells the story of Mu Yu, a seventeen-year-old boy from a small village. Like so many other young Chinese, Mu Yu seeks to make a life for himself in the big city (in this case, Beijing), where in theory there are more opportunities. The problem is that in China, changing residence is highly regulated and moving from rural to urban to the wild means becoming, in practice, an illegal citizen.

So, Mu Yu settles in Beijing and lives in a small house with several companions who are also in a precarious situation. His work is curious and clandestine: putting up advertisements everywhere to promote his uncle's business, who is a document forger. The book is built through prints and stories that have Mu Yu as a common link and that are not independent stories, but must be read all of them to understand this choral chronicle about urban marginality.

I think one of the reasons I liked this book so much is the translation by Belén Cuadra Mora . It is so well done that it reads with total fluidity, as if it were the original text (yes, that's what they teach us in college, but it's not always achieved). Thanks to this rich and elaborate style, we enter a Beijing full of street vendors, characters on the margins of the system and dangerous situations that show the less friendly side of Chinese growth.

Conclusion

"Historias del extrarradio" is a very vivid portrait of the Chinese capital. If you are planning to go there or you like urban geography, I recommend reading it with Google Maps next to it, as the author mentions specific streets and neighborhoods that will help you situate yourself in the plot. In fact, it was like going back there!

In short, it is a highly recommended read to discover a young and powerful voice in current Chinese literature that knows how to explain social reality through quality fiction.

In nature things simply grow, with Yiyun Li

Where By sifuroIn 3 stars , Chinese character , Books2 comments

He's only 15 years old, and his fingers are already longer than mine. No, you can't see it in the photo, but he's almost a hand's breadth away from me. He has his own ideas, and his own way of dressing. And he has a brother five years older, who's already on screen and is at university. They both have to bend down to give me a hug. They're Jordi and Guillem, and they're not that different from James and Vincent, Yiyun Li's children. Or rather, they are different: my children continue with their lives while hers are no longer there. By their own decision, too.

How do you feel when, of the two children you had, you have none left? When all you have left are rooms full of memories? When the dog doesn't know where to go to find its owner?

Children die, parents continue to live.

It shouldn't be like that. The "law of life" is different. The author herself says it, which statistically is a very rare case, but the fact is that, six years apart, Yiyun Li's two sons committed suicide. And she wanted to write a book for each of them. I have the one she dedicated to Vincent at home, and I couldn't finish it. Maybe now that I've read the one she dedicated to James, I'll go back to reading it.

Knowing what the book was about, I have to say that I picked up In Nature Things Simply Grow with a pack of Kleenex in my hand. And no, I didn't have to use it much. Why? Well, because Yiyun Li is able to convey sadness, perplexity, suffering, and all kinds of sensations, without having to resort to easy tears. She has a delicious pen, with which she is able to portray the scenario she wants without going through a convoluted text, without having to fill the book with adjectives and complex expressions. With a plain writing, she is able to communicate without her production being of a low level. Not everyone can do that. 

On Instagram I often read statements like "it's a hard book but necessary" applied to books that, often, I consider not so hard. This time I'll be the one to say that it's a hard book. This one is, The Diary of Anne Frank is. Because they explain real events, things that you can put a day and a night on. Is it a necessary book? That's the million-dollar question. I think it's very necessary for the author, who writes with amazing simplicity and integrity about an extremely sad and, in some places, taboo subject: the suicide of two children (and her own attempts). In this sense, I find it very necessary as a vehicle so that she, the person who has suffered it, can get her message across to us, and this message is surely necessary, or useful, for people who have been in the same situation and who, possibly, don't know how to express it so well. Maybe it will make them feel accompanied and understood.

In any case, it's a good read for me to reposition myself and to be able to resume the book she dedicated to her eldest son, Vincent. And, now that I understand her better, I will be able to resume the reading path she has always guided me along with great success. For this reason, I am very grateful to L'altra editorial for sending it to me and, above all, for deciding to publish it.

If you are interested in this author and want to learn more about her, check out the talk about women writers we gave at the Confucius Institute a while ago (in 2018!!!). We talk about her starting at minute 56 (link in bio), and we touch on other authors like Sanmao, Amy Tan and others. Don't hesitate to read this or any other book by her, which you will find reviewed on this blog.

Taipei People: nostalgia and identity with Pai Hsien-yung

Where By sifuroIn 2 stars , Chinese character , BooksLeave a comment

Reading Taipei People by Pai Hsien-yung has been an interesting challenge. I was lucky enough to share this reading with a small group of Chinese experts, and their contributions were very enriching. I stepped out of my comfort zone a bit (I have a very ambivalent relationship with stories) and, if I had read it alone, I might not have finished it. This book, a collection of fourteen stories, takes us into the lives of a group of characters marked by exile and loss, all of them Chinese who, after the Civil War, settled in Taipei, trying to rebuild their lives in an environment that does not quite belong to them.

Nostalgia is a central element of these stories. The protagonists are intellectuals, disgraced aristocrats, courtesans, former soldiers and displaced bourgeois who look back with a mixture of melancholy and resignation. Taipei is for them a refuge, but also a space of disconnection, where their roots are left in suspense, trapped in a land they can never fully inhabit again. The author portrays this reality with detailed prose, capable of conveying both the decadence of the world they leave behind and the difficulty of finding their place in the present.

One of the things that has caught my attention the most about this work is its ability to build environments and recreate atmospheres with a wealth of details that you can almost breathe. Pai Hsien-yung knows how to make you feel the humidity of the streets of Taipei and the dull elegance of those who were once powerful and now survive in a world that no longer belongs to them. But, at the same time, I must confess that towards the end it got a little tiring. The characters share the same kind of melancholy, a feeling of loss that is repeated in each story, and this has meant that I have not been able to fully connect with it. It is an experience that has reminded me of the literature of Eileen Chang, where themes and sensibilities are often repeated that, at times, can make reading monotonous.

The author and his legacy

The author, son of a high-ranking Kuomintang commander, experienced this displacement firsthand and his work is deeply influenced by this experience. Trained in Hong Kong and then in the United States, Pai Hsien-yung is one of the most important voices in contemporary Chinese literature. In fact, one of the stories in this collection ended up serving as the embryo for his best-known novel, Crystal Boys , a pioneering work in the portrayal of the lives of young homosexuals in Taipei.

In short, Taipei People is a deeply evocative book that transports us to a world full of nuances and makes us reflect on the fragility of identity when it is shaken by exile. It is a read that I recommend, above all, to those looking for literature that explores memory and loss through beautiful and detailed prose.

La città che non c’è, de Yu Hua

Where By sifuroIn 3 estrelles, Caràcter xinèsLeave a comment

No es tradueix suficient del xinès al català. Ni al castellà. Per això, quan vaig veure que aquest llibre sortia en italià, vaig decidir-me a comprar-lo en aquesta llengua. Es tracta de La città che non c’è, de Yu Hua.

El punt fort d’aquest autor és el retrat de la vida al camp, i això és el que ens porta una vegada més. En aquest cas, tenim la història d’un home que té una filla amb una dona, i aquesta dona desapareix. I, és clar, ell la vol anar a trobar.

Però el llibre no comença justament aquí, sino que l’autor ens porta més enrere en el temps, ens introdueix en el poble on viu el protagonista, en la seva vida, i va avançant fins que apareix la que serà la mare de la seva filla, acompanyada d’un home que continua viatge pocs dies després. Uns mesos després del naixement de la nena, la dona també marxa.

A partir d’aquí, comença el viatge a la recerca de la dona, i durant aquest procés el protagonista viurà també un procés de recreació interior, de cria de la nena, i s’haurà d’espavilar com pugui perquè a aquesta nena no li falti aliment. 

Per altra banda, Yu Hua situa la història a finals de la dinastia Qing (finals del segle XIX, principis del XX) i aprofita per mostrar, com a rerefons, la situació de l’èpòca. Això és molt interessant perquè és una època que no se sol retratar massa en les obres que ens arriben a nosaltres.

Així doncs, viurem la caiguda de l’imperi xinès i de l’antic règim, així com l’arribada de la República. Tot vist des de la vida rural, i amb una perspectiva una mica bèstia, pessimista i fosca que m’ha fet pensar en Víctor Català (us en parlo en la propera ressenya) i les desgràcies que sol pintar aquesta autora. Per exemple, hi ha un parell de moments del llibre que són el que jo en diria «moments Yu Hua», en què es pot pensar que traspassa la frontera del mal gust, com quan uns que es defensen a mossegades acaben arrencant les orelles dels contrincants, o bé gent que fa tan fred que es moren congelats i, com que plou, l’aigua se’ls congela a sobre.

És tot bastant gore, però és que ell és una mica així, i encara trobo que hi ha pocs moments d’aquests al llarg d’aquell llibre. També diré que en algun moment, quan parla de bandits, m’ha fet pensar en el gran clàssic xinès «A orillas del agua».

En tot cas, és un llibre molt recomanable i interessant que us pot sorprendre sobretot si no heu llegit gaire coses d’aquest autor. 

N’heu sentit a parlar, de Yu Hua? Sabeu quin dels seus llibres és font d’una pel·lícula molt coneguda? Us escolto!

Il professore e la ballerina del carillon, de Dorothy Tse

Where By sifuroIn 3 estrelles, Caràcter xinèsLeave a comment

Sempre és bonic llegir un llibre que ha traduït algú a qui coneixes personalment (com més propera la persona, millor). És com sentir la seva veu acompanyant la de l’autor original, donant-se la mà totes dues per fer-te arribar una única història. Així, doncs, va ser un plaer llegir, ja fa unes quantes setmanes, Il professore e la ballerina del carillon, de Dorothy Tse, amb traducció d’Antonio Paoliello.

Tot plegat passa en una ciutat fictícia (que recorda sospitosament Hong Kong, d’on és l’autora). Q és un professor universitari que no acaba de prosperar a la feina. La vida familiar amb la seva dona és força ordinària, i l’única passió que té són les nines: en té una col·lecció de totes les mides. Ell va fent, va fent, fins que un dia en descobreix una (que en el meu cervell és de mida humana) que és una ballarina, l’Eilis, amb la qual comença una relació molt absorbent. 

Sembla estrany, oi, però és que Tse és especialista a pintar-nos quadres molt surrealistes, on la realitat i la ficció es barregen i de vegades costa distingir què és què. Així, tot i que està clar que la ballarina pren vida, a estones l’ambient és tan oníric que costa saber si no està passant tot plegat dins del cap del professor. Està tan enamorat de la noia, que pràcticament només viu per ella i les trobades que tenen. Això fa que li passin desapercebuts els canvis i moviments de la vida real, com ara les confrontacions entre estudiants i govern de la seva ciutat (repeteixo: ciutat fictícia que recorda Hong Kong). 

Així, doncs, diria que al llibre hi tenim una primera part on ens centrem en la vida personal del protagonista, la seva dona i la nina, mentre que arriba un punt, quan ell està més desconnectat de la societat, en què l’autora fa un canvi de direcció i ens posa davant dels nassos els conflictes socials de la seva ciutat. Disfressats, sí, però d’una vericitat més enllà del llibre totalment palpable: hi trobareu manifestacions, enfrontaments entre policia i gent «en samarreta», deixant clara la desprotecció del poble, maltractes i violència policial… tot plegat sembla molt real i em recorda algunes imatges que hem vist per la tele.

Diuen que el llibre va de la vida en un règim totalitari, però jo crec (humilment) que això només és un dels temes que toca, i que també hi ha molt de la soledat i la falta de connexió entre persones, les obsessions que podem tenir… no sé, és un llibre més complex del que sembla.

Com deia al principi, l’autora d’aquest llibre és Dorothy Tse, autora de Hong Kong nascuda el 1977. Havia llegit algun relat d’ella i, pel que veig (i pel que llegeixo en fonts de referència), és habitual que els seus escrits toquin temes aparentment estranys o inventats que pot enllaçar amb fets reals, i que tot plegat ens ho presenta amb una barreja de surrealisme i fantasia que li és molt pròpia. Pel que fa a les seves obres, jo només he trobat una altra publicació en castellà (res en català, evidentment), que es diu La cabeza i que podeu trobar al projecte Hjckrrh amb traducció de Juan José Ciruela.

Haurem d’esperar que es tradueixi aquesta autora a casa nostra, però no sé quan serà això. Si podeu llegir en altres llengües, us recomano les traduccions al francès i a l’italià (com aquesta que us comento avui). Jo seguiré buscant obres seves per anar-la descobrint.