I really didn't enjoy this book. I don't have to like the characters in a book to enjoy it (and I found all the characters in this book pretty unlikeable) but I do need to at least find them interesting. The main character in this book ("Dad") is a whining misogynist. Yawn.
I thought some of the translation choices were a bit odd too, like the translator hadn't decided whether she was using UK or American English. The use of the term "bros" to describe Dad's drinking buddies I found particularly grating and unnatural. Plus, I can safely say I have never heard anyone describe something as "as big as a bum cheek" but the phrase was used twice in this book, once to describe an ashtray and the other a cavity. Most odd.
This won the English PEN, and my vote for one of the best translated books this year. There is a real challenge for the translator, as Yan Ge uses an interesting technique of flowing from a current scene into an interlude that provides the necessary background that culminates in a dialogue that flows seamlessly back into the current scene that leaves you with a bit of a whiplash: wait, which time period are we in? Is that comment in the background interlude conversation or the current time conversation? How did Yan do that? How did Nicky Harman do it so smoothly?
There is also a fascinating technique of using a narrator that we never meet. She just hovers over the story, referred to only a handful of times as the crazy daughter who apparently is institutionalized but seems to know everything that has happened.
There are just so many interesting aspects and tensions to this book, but they are gentle tensions, buoyed along on the humor and the boisterous life of the man at the center of the book: son of a domineering mother, brother of a man who has had the easy life compared to his, lover of the emotional mistress, prodigious imbiber and gourmand, manager of the family chili bean paste business, father of the aforesaid daughter, husband of the cold wife, friend of the rascally... all threatening to collide as his mother’s 70th birthday celebration looms.
Which drives the technique of giving the reader the rejoinder that our protagonist longs to say out loud, when provoked by one of the characters mentioned above, before he actually says the conciliatory words that he has always said. Will he ever say what he really thinks? What would happen? (yes, somewhat like Miroslav Krleza’s On the Edge of Reason, but funny and in a totally different culture). Maybe he has bitten back so many divisive but honest things he can no longer say anything that is honest, even if it's loving?
This is really a masterful use of the unreliable narrator, quite deliberately channeling the unreliable protagonist. Unreliable not because he is deliberately misleading us or even himself. But rather because he is so busy that he never has time or insight to go back and re-examine those opinions about members of his family that he formed in childhood, when he understood so little about the character and environment that shaped each of them. That these opinions, and our family roles, are molded so firmly by accidents that involve our physical selves and differences, the politics of the time (especially in China), relationships between parents that they shield from us, and so forth is really the theme of this book. But it is a theme that emerges with sympathy and understanding, not anger, and is surrounded by so much humor that the reader certainly doesn’t feel a sermon or lecture has been delivered.
Finally, 1) the western China setting is quite fascinating; different from more usual eastern China novels, 2) there is a short but interesting afterword from Harman about translating the book, with its dialect and different registers.
If you think the translated book from Asia to read right now is the one-note Convenience Store Woman, think again. Find this and read it.
A sympathetic and vividly intimate saga of the Duan-Xue family with their formidable 80 year old matriarch, incorrigibly coarse father, bawdy shenanigans, simmering sibling squabbles, ingrained misogyny and marital betrayals. The soap-opera style histrionics build up to a raucous gathering of the clan, where we look on like embarrassed guests as long-held secrets and rivalries erupt into a farcical climax.
Azon morfondíroztam, vajon lefordíttatja-e ezt a könyvet az Európa, ha mondjuk egy belga vagy szlovén szerző keze alól kerül ki. És hát arra jutottam, hogy: aligha. Ami nem azt jelenti, hogy rossz könyv, távolról sem az – egyszerűen ami emlékezetes benne, a közegből, „kínaiságából” fakad. Egy olyan világot ábrázol, ami a mao-i mélyszegénységből hasít a fogyasztói társadalom felé, remek pillanatkép a 2000-es évek Kínájáról, ahol még meghatározóak a tradicionális családi kapcsolatok és a hagyományos férfi-női szerepek, de a bomlás jelei már kezdenek kitapinthatóvá válni: itt már válás van, a gyerekek pedig elköltöznek, vagy ne adj Isten pszichiátriai kezelés alatt állnak.
Ami azonban a történetet illeti – nos, ilyesmire már láttunk példát. Xue Shengqiang, az újgazdag antihős sorsát kísérjük figyelemmel, ahogy családja, szeretői és haverjai között ingadozik, és közben annyit zabál a klasszikus kínai konyha remekeiből, hogy attól már nekem kell savlekötőt szednem. Az elbeszélő személye viszont igazán ígéretes: a főszereplő lánya meséli el egyfajta mindentudó E/1-ként a sztorit, miközben őróla magáról szinte semmit nem tudunk meg – az első, és sokáig egyetlen közvetlen utalás saját személyére a 40. oldalon bukkan fel. Ami azt illeti, ez az igazán ígéretes elbeszélő lehetett volna igazán izgalmas is, de valahogy nem sikerül kihozni belőle annyit, mint amennyire számítottam. A legnagyobb gondom a szöveggel az, hogy túlságosan szétforgácsolt, ide-oda kacskaringó ahhoz, hogy folyamatos élményt nyújtson, annyira viszont nem elsöprő a humora, hogy a fragmentumok önmagukban is tömör gyönyört okozzanak. Annak azonban merem ajánlani, aki érdeklődik az egzotikus szövegek, és egyáltalán: az ázsiai irodalom iránt – ő mindenképpen megtalálja benne a számítását.
I loved the story, following such a dis functional family was very fun, and I was surprised by the crude-ness of the text … but the translation has baffled me. I know Nicky Harman to be quite an accomplished translator. I can recognise maybe she wanted to stay as close to the original as possible (I.e. idioms that don’t quite sound right in English like ‘as big as a bum cheek’) but this was really not up my street. I think at times the sentence/clause order needed to be changed round because sometimes it just read so stilted. At points I couldn’t understand what was going on. Also there seemed to be a strange mix between US and UK English, so the dialogue didn’t seem authentic to me.
I really hated the main character, how he interacted and treated the women around him (but I think maybe that’s the point?)
I didn’t enjoy this book at all, I didn’t like any of the characters in the slightest. The Chilli bean paste clan were just a lot of fairly hard drinking chain smoking, women chasing misogynistic idiots. I felt like I was sitting in a dark, seedy, smoke filled bar, and didn’t find it interesting at all. Maybe something got lost in translation!!
The Chilli Bean Paste Factory tells the story of a complicated Chinese family interweaving their lives with the changes in China's socio-economic history and showing that ultimately the family members are inexorably linked individuals each trying to play the game to their personal advantage.
The narrative is engaging, if slightly predictable due to the misogynist main character Xue Shengqiang, 'Dad' being blind to the schemes around him while thinking he is the best schemer of them all. The structure is interesting in that it tries to recount the story as if Dad's daughter Xingxing is the narrator, hence everyone being called 'Dad', 'Mum', 'Uncle', and 'Gran' etc. However, this just needlessly complicates things for the reader who never meets Xingxing herself and is constantly having to deal with everyone referring to Gran as 'Mother.' Bits of the story are told as if repeating a story that the narrator has been told, "Mum told me...", but other sections read as the inner thoughts of Dad or the other characters, which a re-telling narrator shouldn't know.
There is also a lot of fluidity in the timeline as Dad reminisces about the past or certain incidents are recalled by moments of déjà vu pleasure or pain. While this does allow for a more intricate portrait of the clan's inner workings and the personal histories that have created the present day characters, it is not always clear as to when these sections end and the reader can easily lose their place in the present day story. This issue is not helped by the inconsistencies of register and types of slang throughout the novel. In the translator's afterward, Nicky Harman says that she worked intimately with the author Yang Ge, who is highly proficient in English, to achieve a colourful swearing vocabulary which the author felt accurately reflected her hometown, on which Pingle Town is based. While I admire the effort and the collaboration between author and translator, I do not feel they were successful in anchoring time nor place. Much of the swearing used seems too contemporary for a character who is supposedly in his forties, and in some of the scenes set in the past slang or swearing is used that can throw the English reader's sense of temporality due to their use being too modern for the 'historical' setting. Phrases like "deep doodoo" are also used and read too immature and young for the foul-mouthed adulterer.
Other instances of questionable translation choice are the cropping up of 'British-isms' in the language of rural Chinese people. Perhaps, as I am an American reader, these stuck out much stronger for me than other readers, but they did immediately bring me out of the story when I came across them, especially since the story uses a lot of American feeling slang as well. There are also a lot of English idioms used to make the text feel more colloquial, but I kind of wish a more foreignized approach of keeping the Chinese idioms in place if their meaning could be reasonably understood. The biggest issue I have with the translation is Dad calling all of his drinking buddies his 'bros' which annoyed me every time is showed up, it is such an American Frat Boy term that it feel diametrically opposed to a middle-aged Chinese business man, no matter how sleazy and misogynist he may be.
While I have issues with choices made by the translator and author, I do feel that they created an engaging and entertaining voice for the character of Dad, who made me love to hate him so much that I managed to finish the book despite it all.
Just… unbearable. I found myself skimming towards the end because I couldn’t STAND the father. While I did read the translator’s notes, I’m not sure if the translation was effective, especially when it came to flow. Ugh, this is on me for being fooled by a promising-sounding title.
A cím fordítását eléggé érdekesen oldották meg, pláne az eredeti címhez képest. Először is, a történetnek semmi köze nincs Szecsuánhoz, még csak említés szintjén sem, hiszen egy kitalált városban, Pinglében játszódik. Megértem, hogy valami frappáns címet akart választani a fordító, azonban szerintem ez nagyon félrevezető. Másrészt, rengeteg benne a káromkodás, ami nekem iszonyatosan bántotta a szememet és megakadályozta, hogy igazán élvezni tudjam a regényt. Többször is felfedeztem benne gépelési hibákat, helyesírási- és vesszőhibákat, amik egy átnézéssel orvosolhatók lettek volna. Maga a regény egészen érdekes volt, bár a sok időben ugrálás olykor- olykor összezavart. Nem hiszem, hogy még egyszer kezembe veszem ezt a könyvet, de ismeretterjesztőnek jó volt.
A regény elbeszélőjéről sajnos nem tudunk meg túl sok mindent, ő egyáltalán nem is szerepel benne, ami miatt nekem hatalmas hiányérzetem volt.
This book is nothing like "Strange Beasts of China" or "White Horse", both of which I loved. I'm confused by the choice of narrator, and was put off by the misogyny of the main character, but kept reading because I wanted to see where this goes. Sadly, we never find out much about the narrator, who she is and why she is where she supposedly is. I also felt like the voice was not quite right for someone who finds out second / third hand what happened. She's privy to too many internal thought processes somehow? And I wonder if I would have liked it better if I'd read it in English, rather than German - how much of this is the work of the translator. I don't know. Since I don't read Chinese, I can't tell how good the translation is. Anyway, a book full of spicy bean paste, booze, sex, and keeping up appearances in rural China.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
The Chilli Bean Paste Clan is a full-fledged multi-generational family drama set in West China. The father and main character of this book, Shengqian, is a rip-roaring philandering sex pest who gets himself in nothing but trouble. His family around him is also a constant source of drama and distractions. My critique of this book is that it was extremely sexist and portrayed women in almost an exclusively negative light. All of the female characters either are portrayed to be mentally unstable, have mental health issues, are bodies to be used by men. At times, I felt like Yan was beating a dead horse with the womanising. I think we have to EXPECT a more nuanced portrayal of women.
Shengqiang as a character was off-putting & his endless drinking and dalliances became a bit tiresome to read. For a translated piece, I personally feel that Harman was less successful in anchoring time & place. For a character who is supposedly in his forties, the swearing used seem too... contemporary? The scenes set in the past had some modern slang used that pretty much threw my sense of temporality; being too modern for the supposed historical setting. That aside, this was a good casual read, but I think this writing style just isn't for me!
This is the story of the Duan-Xue family in all their dysfunctionality: infidelity, deceit, alcoholism, rivalries, and boorish behavior run rife. The story is strung together by the granddaughter of the family matriarch, and is a collection of gossip and recollections she’s gathered. Taking place in a fictionalized version of the author’s hometown of Pixian in Sichuan, this is also a sort of ode to small town life and small town folks. Despite the crude and generally unlikeable cast of characters, the author manages a tone that is surprisingly lighthearted. I didn’t love the book, but it definitely kept my interest and it had a clever ending!
Yan Ge wrote wǒmen jiā in Sichuanese Mandarin filled with slang from her hometown. Though I gained a greater appreciation for translator Nicky Harman’s work after reading several interviews with her, I found the translation wanting. There were a number of confusing passages seemed to have been jokes or innuendos that had gotten lost in English. Harman’s use of words that have too many cultural associations in (American) English sometimes made the reading awkward and cheesy: e.g. “bro” and “cool dudes.” The Britishisms were often lost on me, but that’s my own problem. Considering how tied this book is to a specific town and its specific cultural-linguistic tradition, I wonder if even the most perfectly chosen English words could have captured the original for readers as far removed as I am.
Bean paste is a stable of Asian cuisine but I suspect for Westerners it’s an acquired taste. It plays a big part in the Moon Cake festival when the tradition is to present friends, colleagues and families with baked pastries filled with a paste made from red bean paste. (international brands like Haagen Daz have muscled in with an ice-cream version).
It's not sweetness but the hot, spicy version of bean paste that is relished by the inhabitants of Yan Ge’s fictional town of Pringle in The Chilli Bean Paste Clan. The spicier and the more the paste makes them sweat, the better they like it.
The thing is, the townsfolk grew up with a hole in their tongues. In fact, they were almost born eating Sichuan pepper powder. Even rice porridge needed mala: the numbing, tingling ma of Sichuan pepper and the hot, spicy la of the chilli. They could not imagine life without that numbing-hot duo.
The paste is made in huge fermentation vats which contain “a bubbling mixture of broad beans which had been left to go mouldy to which were added crushed chilli pepper and seasonings like star anise, bay leaves and great handfuls of salt. As the days went by in the hot sunshine, the chilli peppers fermented, releasing their oil and a smell which was at first fragrant, then sour.”
It’s upon this product that the fortune of the Duan-Xue family is based. Youngest son Shengqiang was destined from an early age to run the Mayflower Chilli Bean Paste Factory. His clever, handsome older brother, Duan Zhiming, got to leave the town and become a university professor and his sister Coral Xue built a career as a TV news presenter.
The matriarch of the family, the formidable “Gran”, is approaching her eightieth birthday so the siblings re-unite to organise a celebration that must be grand and classy, as befitting the family’s status, but absolutely not tacky. Skeletons come out of the closet and old rivalries are re-awakened as the big day gets nearer.
The Chilli Bean Paste Clan is essentially a tale of a family with secrets. It’s told through the eyes of Xingxing, the daughter of Shengqiang and his glamorous wife Anqin. It’s clear she looks upon her father with affection yet the tone is irreverent for Xingxing holds no illusions about his propensity to drink and smoke heavily nor his serial womanising. Sex, nights out with his friends and plenty of food are what keep him sane as he tries to juggle the demands of his wife and mother (and keep his mistress hidden). The result is a series of humorous incidents which culminate in a personal crisis for Shengqiang and a threat to his mother’s reputation.
I found my sympathies going towards Shengqiang despite his attitude towards women. As a young man his bossy mother pushed into a lowly job at the chilli bean factory , insisting he had to earn his spurs the hard way, stirring the giant fermentation vessels Little wonder that Shengqiang has always felt he was second fiddle to his brother whose achievements his mother never lets him forget. His mother even chose his wife for him, deciding that Anqin’s family associations with the Party could help further her own family’s fortunes.
Shengqiang longs for a time when life was so much simpler. When he could hang out with his gang, play poker, get drunk and end up in a fight. But he, like the town in which he grew up has changed. Gone are the stalls and pushcarts where he could get noodles or cold dressed rabbit and chilli turnips spring rolls, Sichuan eggy pancakes and griddled buns. Gone too are the scissor menders and knife-grinders. Even the familiar faces from his boyhood have gone in the name of ‘progress.’
… the whole of Pringle Town had changed. The cypresses and camphor trees of his childhood had been chopped down, the squeezed-in streets had been wrenched wider (but only a tad) and bright blue railings kept motorized and non motorized vehicles apart. … The result was that neither ars nor bicycles could get through. And as if that were not bad enough, the edges of the streets were ostentatiously ‘greened’ with saplings brought in from god knows where. … Worst of all the passers-by changed. It dawned on Dad that, without him being aware of it happening, the people walking up and down the street were strangers.
I suspect many of us who lived in small towns have seen similar declines as family-owned shops have been edged out by the big brands clustered on the fringes in souless precincts.
If only Dad had been allowed to tell his own story. Having his daughter as the narraor proved an issue for me. I know omniscient narrators can’t be everywhere and we make some allowances when they still relay conversations that they couldn’t possibly have heard. Xingxing tries to get around this by occasionally slipping in a remark about how she got her information from her parents, her gran and her father It’s believable up to a point but the further I got into the book, the more this issue niggled. No matter how close a relationship she had with Shengqiang I can’t believe he would have shared that amount of detail about his visits to a prostitute when he was younger or how he sated his sexual appetite with his mistress.
Words Without Borders described The Chilli Bean Paste Clan as China’s “best untranslated book” when it was published in 2014. It’s taken four years for the English translation by Nicky Harman to appear via Balestier Press. Asymptote Book Club members like myself got to read it when the club chose it for their May selection. It’s not a book I would have chosen personally although I would like to read more works by Chinese authors. I enjoyed it overall – it fitted my mood at the time – though its not a book I am likely to recall in a few year’s time.
This novel = "What it's like to get into the mind of a misogynistic man", there's no escape from this feeling throughout the book because the story follows the main character who's a misogynist and chauvinist. Most of the women in this story are helpless and objectified to the core. I understand that you don't have to like the characters while reading but this is unbearable and uncomfortable to read.
A vividly told story of a family in a small town in China's Sichuan Province. The protagonist, Xue Shengqiang, is a flawed character, but Yan Ge still inspires empathy with his portrayal of a man struggling with the choices he has made in life, unreliable memories of sibling rivalries and the image he wishes to broadcast to the rest of the town.
This was a reasonably fun read: a soap opera or theatrical farce type of story, depicting life in a small town in China that is undergoing massive changes and a rather dysfunctional family who manages the local chilli bean paste factory. I suspect the original has a lot of slang which is difficult to translate. Of course it doesn't bode well for gender relationships, marriages etc.
I hope to find more of her works. The author has written the dysfunctional family novel of Sichuan. Not only did I laugh as I read; but I also missed China & Sichuan in particular. Read this book; it's the perfect escape during the family-filled holiday season.
I picked up this book from the library as it won the English Pen Translate Award and its setting was in Sichuan. I really didn’t expect much so it was just a nice casual read about a small town in China.
Really enjoyed this family saga set in China. The narrative effortlessly flits back and forth in time with great fluidity. Despite the characters' obvious flaws it was impossible not to get sucked into the inner machinations of the multi generational family. Excellent translation also.
the earthy stench of mainland chinese vulgarity finds a pungent english aftertaste!!! and it’s true, the right stink can overwhelm with umami. wish i could read the whole book in chinese. nothing hits like lao gan ma except lao gan ma!
Fascinating literary techniques. I loved the fact that they kept to the Chinese idioms. Characters were super interesting, but also so relatable and normal. I love Yan Ge’s perspective. She is truly a talented writer.
Fun story in the end, the characters were so horrible it made the first part of the book really difficult to wade through. I think your enjoyment of this would very much depend on what mood you were in.
i really enjoyed this. the narrative device was so good, especially with these glimpses of the narrator literally being shunted off, not ‘normal’ enough to be invited to her grandmother’s birthday -- reminds me of what rowan said after watching “aftersun”: “aftersun is a movie about how i, rowan wilson, will never truly know my father.” depicting a character like xue shengqiang in this way is a stroke of genius, the ambivalences and complexities of him as a person come through so well through the tension inherent in the voice. another win for pingle zhen and its bad vibes!