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An Empty Room: Stories
A dazzling cycle of short stories by one of China’s most revered contemporary writers and one of the world’s leading artist-intellectuals.
An Empty Room is the first book by the celebrated Chinese writer Mu Xin toappear in English. A cycle of thirteen tenderly evocative stories written while
Mu Xin was living in exile, this collection is reminiscent of the structural beauty
of Hemingway’s In Our Time and the imagistic power of Kawabata’s palm-of-the-hand stories. From the ordinary (a bus accident) to the unusual (Buddhist
halos) to the wise (Goethe, Lao Zi), Mu Xin’s wandering “I” interweaves plots
with philosophical grace and spiritual profundity. A small blue bowl becomes a
symbol of vanishing childhood; a painter in a race against fading memory scribbles
notes in an underground prison during the Cultural Revolution; an abandoned
temple room holds a dark mystery. An Empty Room is a soul-stirring
page turner, a Sebaldian reverie of passing time, loss, and humanity regained.
161 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1982
19 people are currently reading
493 people want to read
About the author
Mu Xin
33 books25 followersMu Xin (1927-2011) was the pen name of a renowned Chinese diasporan writer and artist who once lived in the New York area. Mu Xin was born in Wuzhen, South China, into a wealthy aristocratic family with business interests in Shanghai. He was among the last generation to receive a classical education in the literati tradition, but he was also exposed through voluminous reading to the highest achievements of Western art and culture.
From 1947 to 1949, Mu Xin attended Shanghai Institute of the Arts. From 1949 until 1982, when he came to the United States, MuXin lived in China. Although he wrote profusely in that period, all of his earlier manuscripts were confiscated and destroyed during the Cultural Revolution. Since 1982, MuXin published twelve books of fiction, prose, and poetry (in Chinese) and contributed to literary columns in Chinese journals and newspapers outside the PRC. Among the Chinese diaspora, MuXin’s works have attracted an intense following.
Few Chinese writers in modern history have as firm a mastery of the Chinese cultural and linguistic heritage as MuXin did. Innovatively combining fiction, sanwen (a Chinese genre which blends characteristics of the essay, fiction, and poetry), and philosophical reflections, MuXin’s writing is both profoundly Chinese and reminiscent of the internalization and unconventionality of Western modern masters. In addition to his literary accomplishments, MuXin was also a well recognized artist whose paintings are preserved, among other places, at Yale University and Harvard University Art Galleries.
From 1947 to 1949, Mu Xin attended Shanghai Institute of the Arts. From 1949 until 1982, when he came to the United States, MuXin lived in China. Although he wrote profusely in that period, all of his earlier manuscripts were confiscated and destroyed during the Cultural Revolution. Since 1982, MuXin published twelve books of fiction, prose, and poetry (in Chinese) and contributed to literary columns in Chinese journals and newspapers outside the PRC. Among the Chinese diaspora, MuXin’s works have attracted an intense following.
Few Chinese writers in modern history have as firm a mastery of the Chinese cultural and linguistic heritage as MuXin did. Innovatively combining fiction, sanwen (a Chinese genre which blends characteristics of the essay, fiction, and poetry), and philosophical reflections, MuXin’s writing is both profoundly Chinese and reminiscent of the internalization and unconventionality of Western modern masters. In addition to his literary accomplishments, MuXin was also a well recognized artist whose paintings are preserved, among other places, at Yale University and Harvard University Art Galleries.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 37 reviews
July 24, 2016
“Whoever first thought of imposing a library fine was indeed intelligent.” -Mu Xin- Tomorrow, I’ll Stroll No More
I’m so glad I picked up this book up! On my endeavour to read more Chinese literature I just pick them up randomly from the library because I really have no knowledge of Chinese authors. It turns out I chose well this time. This is a collection of 13 short stories by Chinese author and artist Mu Xin who lived outside of China for many years and was also a political prisoner under Mao.
The stories were pretty simple, starting from the ones at the beginning that detail early childhood observations, to the latter that are written by a protagonist later in life. The collection features stories the author wrote while abroad. To be honest, I preferred those stories; I found them more thoughtful and poignant, obviously seen through the eyes of a visitor and therefore seeing more. My favourite was Spring in Weimar:
“In the temperate zone, at the start of each season, a sacred aura delicately begins to insinuate itself in the wind. While winter lingers on, spring’s cold air feels tender and moist as it stirs up private, fleeting memories. Each passing day silently acknowledges the change of seasons so that the beginning of Spring is received with paramount propriety and somberness.”
Notes from the Underground was great too, autobiographical, made up of Xin’s secret writings which he wrote while being imprisoned in Shanghai for 10 months for being an “intellectual with decadent thoughts.”
“When catastrophe sweeps through your political life, economic condition, love life, or your pursuit of art, you are reduced to a miserable and ridiculous state of existence. Your patience and endurance are not enough for you to overcome the adversity. Consequently, you are forced into the underground, that is you have to fight even if you don’t want to (as you must live to avoid death)."
I was curious about the author's life especially his life as an artist during the cultural revolution and I came across this really great short video.
http://vimeo.com/34971591
And a link about his art: http://chronicle.uchicago.edu/020124/...
I’m so glad I picked up this book up! On my endeavour to read more Chinese literature I just pick them up randomly from the library because I really have no knowledge of Chinese authors. It turns out I chose well this time. This is a collection of 13 short stories by Chinese author and artist Mu Xin who lived outside of China for many years and was also a political prisoner under Mao.
The stories were pretty simple, starting from the ones at the beginning that detail early childhood observations, to the latter that are written by a protagonist later in life. The collection features stories the author wrote while abroad. To be honest, I preferred those stories; I found them more thoughtful and poignant, obviously seen through the eyes of a visitor and therefore seeing more. My favourite was Spring in Weimar:
“In the temperate zone, at the start of each season, a sacred aura delicately begins to insinuate itself in the wind. While winter lingers on, spring’s cold air feels tender and moist as it stirs up private, fleeting memories. Each passing day silently acknowledges the change of seasons so that the beginning of Spring is received with paramount propriety and somberness.”
Notes from the Underground was great too, autobiographical, made up of Xin’s secret writings which he wrote while being imprisoned in Shanghai for 10 months for being an “intellectual with decadent thoughts.”
“When catastrophe sweeps through your political life, economic condition, love life, or your pursuit of art, you are reduced to a miserable and ridiculous state of existence. Your patience and endurance are not enough for you to overcome the adversity. Consequently, you are forced into the underground, that is you have to fight even if you don’t want to (as you must live to avoid death)."
I was curious about the author's life especially his life as an artist during the cultural revolution and I came across this really great short video.
http://vimeo.com/34971591
And a link about his art: http://chronicle.uchicago.edu/020124/...
April 13, 2018
I finished it in a breeze and found myself in the depths of a beautiful labyrinth built by a very elegant writer.
October 5, 2024
Stylistically beautiful & held a few surprises. Glad I read this one.
August 27, 2023
Equipoised between essay, fiction and prose poem, these sanwen stories were quietly moving. Mu Xin's prose, like his brush, sits somewhere between China and Europe, echoing at once Han Yu and Montaigne. Loved it, particularly the last couple pieces
December 13, 2012
In a dialogue between Mu Xin and his translator, Toming Jun Liu, the author says:
"What interests me is not "things past" but how to achieve simultaneously two 'I''s' through remembrance:
One is long dead, the other still living."... "There are two... relevant proverbs: One is: 'Life is found in a desperate condition.' The other is 'Put someone in the place of death so that there can be a rebirth of life.'
Out of these come the extraordinary insights and haunting moments of Mu's great work
"What interests me is not "things past" but how to achieve simultaneously two 'I''s' through remembrance:
One is long dead, the other still living."... "There are two... relevant proverbs: One is: 'Life is found in a desperate condition.' The other is 'Put someone in the place of death so that there can be a rebirth of life.'
Out of these come the extraordinary insights and haunting moments of Mu's great work
October 23, 2023
what is sadness? if i knew what sadness was, i would no longer feel sad. what then does life mean? life means certain things are not yet done and must be done, and other things are done but not done well. tomorrow, i'll stroll no more.
March 15, 2011
the thirteen short stories that compose an empty room, mu xin's first collection to appear in english, were chosen for inclusion by the author himself. also a celebrated painter, mu xin lived in new york for nearly twenty-five years (until 2006) after emigrating from his native china (where he had earlier served an eighteen-month prison sentence during the cultural revolution). despite having written over two dozen books of stories, poems, and essays, mu xin is better known in english-speaking countries for his paintings than for his prose.
while mu xin's unique and varied stories seem stylistically muted and understated, their effects tend to reverberate after reading. the storytelling in an empty room, written while mu xin was living in new york, is possessed by an ethereal or tranquil quality of sorts, one that borders almost upon melancholy or delicacy. these stories, however, are anything but whimsical. my impression of them while reading, i now notice, was different than the one i am left with hours later. to be fair, i tend not to be moved as much by asian literature as i am by luso-hispanic works, so whatever in an empty room that left me wanting for something richer and more substantial is merely on account of personal taste and partiality. the most memorable of the stories, to me, were "the moment childhood vanished," "eighteen passengers on a bus," "tomorrow, i'll stroll no more," and "the windsor cemetery diary."
as an octogenarian artist and author, mu xin's creative output is highly regarded. following a welcoming reception to this collection, perhaps more of his stories, as well as essays and poetry, will soon be published in translation. toming jun liu translated from the chinese, and a fantastic interview he conducted with mu xin (in 1993) can be found on the words without borders website.
"although i see no miracle, i still expect justice."
(from the interview)
while mu xin's unique and varied stories seem stylistically muted and understated, their effects tend to reverberate after reading. the storytelling in an empty room, written while mu xin was living in new york, is possessed by an ethereal or tranquil quality of sorts, one that borders almost upon melancholy or delicacy. these stories, however, are anything but whimsical. my impression of them while reading, i now notice, was different than the one i am left with hours later. to be fair, i tend not to be moved as much by asian literature as i am by luso-hispanic works, so whatever in an empty room that left me wanting for something richer and more substantial is merely on account of personal taste and partiality. the most memorable of the stories, to me, were "the moment childhood vanished," "eighteen passengers on a bus," "tomorrow, i'll stroll no more," and "the windsor cemetery diary."
as an octogenarian artist and author, mu xin's creative output is highly regarded. following a welcoming reception to this collection, perhaps more of his stories, as well as essays and poetry, will soon be published in translation. toming jun liu translated from the chinese, and a fantastic interview he conducted with mu xin (in 1993) can be found on the words without borders website.
"although i see no miracle, i still expect justice."
(from the interview)
August 4, 2015
战时山上古寺 樱红空房一间
已故良哥梅妹 淡蓝情书数封
sometimes ,english cant show the beauty of his chinese words
已故良哥梅妹 淡蓝情书数封
sometimes ,english cant show the beauty of his chinese words
April 6, 2023
i’m obsessed with mu xin. he has this insane power to immediately calm me down and make me fake life a little slower, to truly contemplate minute details in my life that make it whole and beautiful.
January 17, 2022
This selection of short stories is the first English translation of author Mu Xin. The stories were selected by the author from three previous (hitherto untranslated) collections. The translator explains the author's selection in an afterword:
"Each story not only stands on its own as an individual work of fiction, but the collection as a whole can be read as a short story cycle, or a linked bildungsroman, written in varying first-person personae, each 'I' embodying a different race, gender, history...." (pg. 147)
The collection as bildungsroman is most evident in the stories "The Moment When Childhood Vanishes", "Xia Mingzhu: A Bright Pearl", "An Empty Room", "Fong Fong No. 4", "The Boy Next Door", "Quiet Afternoon Tea", "Fellow Passengers", "Weimar in Early Spring", "Tomorrow, I'll Stroll No More", and "The Windsor Cemetery Diary".
In the afterword, the translator provides biographical details about the author...
"From 1949 till 1982, Mu Xin lived in China, and as an artist survived some terrifying experiences, including an eighteen-month imprisonment in an abandoned air-raid shelter. Bizarre as it may sound to us today, Mu Xin's case was commonplace in that time period. A person could be imprisoned without trial or sentencing and even without a legal court if he or she belonged to the "wrong" social group (e.g., intellectuals) or showed "decadent" tendencies in thinking. Few works of Mu Xin's literary and artistic creativity from that period have survived." (pg. 149)
Among the stories in the collection, several show evident of the persecution the author experienced in China. They are: "An Empty Room", "Fong Fong No. 4", "Notes from Underground", "Quiet Afternoon Tea", and "Halo".
What's interesting about these stories, aside from their political commentary, is the the way in which they're told. The persecution is seldom experienced first-hand by the narrator, but rather related by the narrator from a story told to them by another character.
For example, it is known that the author endured "an eighteen-month imprisonment in an abandoned air-raid shelter". But this experience is related (in "Notes from Underground") as if it happened to someone else, someone the narrator met "at his art opening in Boston in 1985 (pg. 51).
The account of the author's "eighteen-month imprisonment in an abandoned air-raid shelter" (here reduced to ten months) is offered in relation to the character's "notes". The story behind the notes is as remarkable as the notes themselves...
"...for the ten months the artist was confined underground, in an abandoned air-raid shelter flooded with dirty water, dwelling in total darkness save for a dim gasoline lamp. His immediate family had died and his remaining relatives thought he was dead. Those who left him in this underground hole provided him with paper so that he could write down and submit his "confessions." He secretly used some of the sheets to write his book. He then carefully folded the manuscript and sewed it into his cotton-padded winter pants to avoid detection. Then, one day, he was released, and miraculously he walked out in those pants."
Two stories failed to leave an impression: "Fellow Passengers" and "Weimar in Early Spring". They're not bad stories. In fact, they're not unlike "Tomorrow, I'll Stroll No More". But they lack the awareness, playfulness, and deliberation of "Tomorrow...".
"Tomorrow, I'll Stroll No More" and "The Windsor Cemetery Diary" can easily be paired as they seem to capture the same period, being the old age of the author or "varying first-person personae". They are both remarkable for a style and tone that is simultaneously meditative and inquisitive, tranquil and tumultuous.
That's not to suggest that these qualities are lacking in the other stories. In fact, they are most present in the first story ("The Moment When Childhood Vanished"), with its almost fable-like structure and conclusion. Moreover, the first sentence of the first story establishes the tone of the collection, along with the themes, in terms of bildungsroman and political dissent...
"If a child knows what he should know and does not know what he should not, his childhood will be very happy. But when I was a child, I did not know what I should know, and I knew what I should not, hence all kinds of bewilderments continue to follow me today." (pg. 3)
"Each story not only stands on its own as an individual work of fiction, but the collection as a whole can be read as a short story cycle, or a linked bildungsroman, written in varying first-person personae, each 'I' embodying a different race, gender, history...." (pg. 147)
The collection as bildungsroman is most evident in the stories "The Moment When Childhood Vanishes", "Xia Mingzhu: A Bright Pearl", "An Empty Room", "Fong Fong No. 4", "The Boy Next Door", "Quiet Afternoon Tea", "Fellow Passengers", "Weimar in Early Spring", "Tomorrow, I'll Stroll No More", and "The Windsor Cemetery Diary".
In the afterword, the translator provides biographical details about the author...
"From 1949 till 1982, Mu Xin lived in China, and as an artist survived some terrifying experiences, including an eighteen-month imprisonment in an abandoned air-raid shelter. Bizarre as it may sound to us today, Mu Xin's case was commonplace in that time period. A person could be imprisoned without trial or sentencing and even without a legal court if he or she belonged to the "wrong" social group (e.g., intellectuals) or showed "decadent" tendencies in thinking. Few works of Mu Xin's literary and artistic creativity from that period have survived." (pg. 149)
Among the stories in the collection, several show evident of the persecution the author experienced in China. They are: "An Empty Room", "Fong Fong No. 4", "Notes from Underground", "Quiet Afternoon Tea", and "Halo".
What's interesting about these stories, aside from their political commentary, is the the way in which they're told. The persecution is seldom experienced first-hand by the narrator, but rather related by the narrator from a story told to them by another character.
For example, it is known that the author endured "an eighteen-month imprisonment in an abandoned air-raid shelter". But this experience is related (in "Notes from Underground") as if it happened to someone else, someone the narrator met "at his art opening in Boston in 1985 (pg. 51).
The account of the author's "eighteen-month imprisonment in an abandoned air-raid shelter" (here reduced to ten months) is offered in relation to the character's "notes". The story behind the notes is as remarkable as the notes themselves...
"...for the ten months the artist was confined underground, in an abandoned air-raid shelter flooded with dirty water, dwelling in total darkness save for a dim gasoline lamp. His immediate family had died and his remaining relatives thought he was dead. Those who left him in this underground hole provided him with paper so that he could write down and submit his "confessions." He secretly used some of the sheets to write his book. He then carefully folded the manuscript and sewed it into his cotton-padded winter pants to avoid detection. Then, one day, he was released, and miraculously he walked out in those pants."
Two stories failed to leave an impression: "Fellow Passengers" and "Weimar in Early Spring". They're not bad stories. In fact, they're not unlike "Tomorrow, I'll Stroll No More". But they lack the awareness, playfulness, and deliberation of "Tomorrow...".
"Tomorrow, I'll Stroll No More" and "The Windsor Cemetery Diary" can easily be paired as they seem to capture the same period, being the old age of the author or "varying first-person personae". They are both remarkable for a style and tone that is simultaneously meditative and inquisitive, tranquil and tumultuous.
That's not to suggest that these qualities are lacking in the other stories. In fact, they are most present in the first story ("The Moment When Childhood Vanished"), with its almost fable-like structure and conclusion. Moreover, the first sentence of the first story establishes the tone of the collection, along with the themes, in terms of bildungsroman and political dissent...
"If a child knows what he should know and does not know what he should not, his childhood will be very happy. But when I was a child, I did not know what I should know, and I knew what I should not, hence all kinds of bewilderments continue to follow me today." (pg. 3)
June 26, 2024
In the short story "Notes from the Underground", Mu Xin (or at least one of his many I-narrators), writes: "As for myself, I still follow Flaubert's advice: "Reveal art, conceal the artist." And in fact, the strongest stories of the bundle are the ones in which Mu Xin puts this into practice: "The Moment Childhood Vanished" and "Xia Mingzhu: A Bright Pearl", a whole family saga condensed into a few pages.
In many other stories, the artists seems to overpower the art, and in those moments the imagery becomes convoluted and non-committal: "If a reclusive lady dies in one of the houses, her lights would remain on for she wouldn't have been able to turn of the lights before she died. Her windows could continue to glow for weeks. It would then be the lights, not the dead lady, who suffer. It's fortunate that objects have no senses or the world would be infinitely more chaotic." (page 118)
Another example is the hysterical (ironic?) outburst in the shortstory "Halo". In this story, the narrator remarks how in some paintings, the halos of saints are twisted into an oval-shaped iron ring when the saint is portrayed in side profile, "causing so much anxiety. How could this possibly be the light of the divine! It appears absolutely ridiculous, so ridiculous that it is an eyesore. (...) That I've always been unable to convert myself into a follower of western religion can perhaps be attributed to my discovery of this ludicrous flaw." (page 108)
It's those kind of self-congratulatory, vain observations (a bit like Umberto Eco writing down scrap thoughts on matchbooks and then publishing them) that ultimate made me to let go of Mu Xin's hand. I will, however, cherish the beautiful boat scene in "The Moment Childhood Vanished", and the tragic fate of Xia in "Xia Mingzhu: A Bright Pearl".
In many other stories, the artists seems to overpower the art, and in those moments the imagery becomes convoluted and non-committal: "If a reclusive lady dies in one of the houses, her lights would remain on for she wouldn't have been able to turn of the lights before she died. Her windows could continue to glow for weeks. It would then be the lights, not the dead lady, who suffer. It's fortunate that objects have no senses or the world would be infinitely more chaotic." (page 118)
Another example is the hysterical (ironic?) outburst in the shortstory "Halo". In this story, the narrator remarks how in some paintings, the halos of saints are twisted into an oval-shaped iron ring when the saint is portrayed in side profile, "causing so much anxiety. How could this possibly be the light of the divine! It appears absolutely ridiculous, so ridiculous that it is an eyesore. (...) That I've always been unable to convert myself into a follower of western religion can perhaps be attributed to my discovery of this ludicrous flaw." (page 108)
It's those kind of self-congratulatory, vain observations (a bit like Umberto Eco writing down scrap thoughts on matchbooks and then publishing them) that ultimate made me to let go of Mu Xin's hand. I will, however, cherish the beautiful boat scene in "The Moment Childhood Vanished", and the tragic fate of Xia in "Xia Mingzhu: A Bright Pearl".
February 23, 2020
This is a collection of short fiction by a Chinese author who suffered thru the Cultural Revolution, emigrated to the US, and then returned to China a decade ago.
The stories are all told in the first person and while they are Chinese in detail and plot, they are also universal in that they describe all-too-human experiences. I found the storytelling to be rather insular; as if the stories were meditation exercises. Think of the stories as internal monologues by the narrators. This is not light fluffy fiction; each story carries weight and give the reader much to meditate upon.
The stories are all told in the first person and while they are Chinese in detail and plot, they are also universal in that they describe all-too-human experiences. I found the storytelling to be rather insular; as if the stories were meditation exercises. Think of the stories as internal monologues by the narrators. This is not light fluffy fiction; each story carries weight and give the reader much to meditate upon.
October 23, 2018
A small, humane body of work, and a great example of literature. Each of these stories is thoughtful, meditative, strange in an interesting way, personal, yet universal, gentle, illuminating, and reflective. Mu Xin’s writing is like a calm breeze. His stories meander, like seasons through the years, between fiction and essay, narration and reflection. They hang each on aesthetic and philosophic threads. Each is curious, and Mu Xin’s artistic eye glistens nightly their structures.
July 21, 2023
it was really a slow-burn up until the last few chapters but the interlinking of themes, and particularly small things that are repeated like the sense of loss that mu xin's nebulous "i" feels in regards to his home land, their inability to be religious, and the discussion of the nature of art and truly come to life towards the end, really made it worth it. just beautiful. i felt such a sense of contentment upon finishing it.
March 7, 2020
"We might ask: What does "happiness" look like? Answer: It looks like a painting by Cézanne. Happiness is painted one brushstroke at a time."
These are gorgeous, disorienting, lulling stories and I'm grateful Mu Xin and Toming Jun Liu brought them to us. Each story was the perfect length for a metro ride and that may be the ideal way to read them.
These are gorgeous, disorienting, lulling stories and I'm grateful Mu Xin and Toming Jun Liu brought them to us. Each story was the perfect length for a metro ride and that may be the ideal way to read them.
April 17, 2020
This small book was such a pleasant surprise. The stories are subtle and thoughtful yet have a certain intensity to them. The first story about a boy losing his favourite bowl sets the rest of the book up for its quietly philosophical hue. The stories begin with young protagonists and each story seemingly has a slightly older main character reflecting on life. I loved so many of the stories; An Empty Room, Notes From Underground, and Quiet Afternoon Tea are some of the jewels that come to mind as favourites. Don't sleep on this collection if you are looking for a unique, thoughtful and understated collection of stories.
April 19, 2020
I enjoyed most of these stories, some more than others. Definitely a great choice for a book in translation.
September 12, 2020
My favorites were Halo, An Empty Room, Tomorrow I'll Stroll No More, and The Moment When Childhood Vanished.
November 27, 2023
Depending on the day, the authorial ramblings may just be the nightmarish or dreamlike aspect of the blunt rotation.
May 23, 2021
Mu Xin’s An Empty Room was a real treat. Short, beautifully written and deep, just how I like my books.
Mu Xin himself handpicked the stories to feature in this collection, which had been previously published in separate publications all during his long exile to New York after being released from prison in China during the Cultural Revolution. Though they are standalone stories, the way that they are grouped together, they also can be read as if they were interconnected; snippets of the life of an unknown narrator; a young artist and intellectual who, like Mu Xin himself, is imprisoned and forced to exile for being an intellectual. From a bright little boy who loses a beautiful handcrafted bowl what symbolizes his childhood, to two long lost lovers squatting at a temple. A lover who, like Heraclitus ever-changing river, transforms herself through life. Each story full of philosophical wisdom, a subtle lesson in Chinese history and bridge between Chinese and Western literature. A magnificent work of art.
Mu Xin himself handpicked the stories to feature in this collection, which had been previously published in separate publications all during his long exile to New York after being released from prison in China during the Cultural Revolution. Though they are standalone stories, the way that they are grouped together, they also can be read as if they were interconnected; snippets of the life of an unknown narrator; a young artist and intellectual who, like Mu Xin himself, is imprisoned and forced to exile for being an intellectual. From a bright little boy who loses a beautiful handcrafted bowl what symbolizes his childhood, to two long lost lovers squatting at a temple. A lover who, like Heraclitus ever-changing river, transforms herself through life. Each story full of philosophical wisdom, a subtle lesson in Chinese history and bridge between Chinese and Western literature. A magnificent work of art.
June 9, 2016
A terrific collection, which at times grazes the sentimental, but even then transforms it into bittersweet knowledge, THE EMPTY ROOM functions, in its selection of stories over decades, as a mediated autobiography of an extraordinary life. All "selected works" inevitably can be seen this way, but it seems purposefully done here (and Toming Jun Liu's enlightening translator's afterword even argues it can be read as a "linked bildungsroman").
A well known writer and painter in China -- this is his first collection in English -- Mu Xin was born in 1927 and survived the Cultural Revolution, imprisonment, and exile. And this book, like Mu Xin himself, crosses from classical Chinese literature to western nouveau roman fragmentation and back again. In a way the book can also be seen as cousin to the fiction-essay hybrids of a Sebald or an Emil Cioran or a Paul Valéry or a Maggie Nelson (which themselves could be called, with only a little imagination, western reflections of sanwen or suibi/ zuihitsu traditions)...
The stories span worlds, as makes sense of a collection written during exile (in Forest Hills, Queens). The first story "The Moment When Childhood Vanished" is almost a pre-modern fable about childhood with a sly allusion to Chao-chou's Newborn Baby koan (case 80) in the Blue Cliff Record; while the title story is an imagistic love poem (but with images that could have been provided by David Lynch); "Notes from Underground" is a profound meditation on solitary confinement that recalls Mu Xin's actual imprisonment; and "Fong Fong No. 4" depicts the horror and transformational power of the Cultural Revolution through a seemingly quotidian prism of the aging of a love affair's participants.... In fact each story is in tone and technique quite different, yet a unifying voice and mind clearly is evident throughout this belyingly slim, sorrowful, and sublime triumph.
buy AN EMPTY ROOM or
find it at your library.
trailer for doc on Mu Xin: https://youtu.be/4vipI6dGiVE
A well known writer and painter in China -- this is his first collection in English -- Mu Xin was born in 1927 and survived the Cultural Revolution, imprisonment, and exile. And this book, like Mu Xin himself, crosses from classical Chinese literature to western nouveau roman fragmentation and back again. In a way the book can also be seen as cousin to the fiction-essay hybrids of a Sebald or an Emil Cioran or a Paul Valéry or a Maggie Nelson (which themselves could be called, with only a little imagination, western reflections of sanwen or suibi/ zuihitsu traditions)...
The stories span worlds, as makes sense of a collection written during exile (in Forest Hills, Queens). The first story "The Moment When Childhood Vanished" is almost a pre-modern fable about childhood with a sly allusion to Chao-chou's Newborn Baby koan (case 80) in the Blue Cliff Record; while the title story is an imagistic love poem (but with images that could have been provided by David Lynch); "Notes from Underground" is a profound meditation on solitary confinement that recalls Mu Xin's actual imprisonment; and "Fong Fong No. 4" depicts the horror and transformational power of the Cultural Revolution through a seemingly quotidian prism of the aging of a love affair's participants.... In fact each story is in tone and technique quite different, yet a unifying voice and mind clearly is evident throughout this belyingly slim, sorrowful, and sublime triumph.
buy AN EMPTY ROOM or
find it at your library.
trailer for doc on Mu Xin: https://youtu.be/4vipI6dGiVE
June 28, 2011
This was a haunting and beautiful collection of short stories. Each one evoked a time and the emotions of the characters which left an impression on the reader that would not fade for some time. I very much enjoyed each story, though my favorites, "Fellow Passenger" and "Tomorrow, I will Stroll no More," came towards the end of the collection. In each of these stories I really felt a connection to the text, the thoughts of the characters echoed my own daily monologues or feelings that would pop up out of nowhere, but somehow never get spoken aloud. I really enjoyed how in "Fellow Passenger" the story begins with an observer beginning to imagine a life for a fellow passenger, but then becoming more a story about the observer rather than the observed, which was an interesting perspective. I also enjoyed "Quiet Afternoon Tea" for some of the same qualities, the feeling of letting something go for so long that you'll never be able to resolve it, no matter how simple that matter was once. "Tomorrow, I will Stroll no more" presented another aspect of someone's musings that so closely resembled my own feelings that it was remarkable. I really enjoyed reading the story, so much that I felt that I should include a few lines of it here. Even from the title any fellow procrastinator could see their own perspective echoed in type, a set future time when you will be better than you are at current. My favorite line was, "Life means that you often don't know what to do..." Seems like it is spoken directly to me, or to perhaps, a generation of college-educated people who followed the proscribed path only to find that it led nowhere. I loved the ending paragraph of the story, which again seemed to echo a feeling that often pervades my being.
"Often, just as I'm about to feel a small degree of pleasure, I feel a deep sadness. What is sadness? If I knew I would no longer feel sad. What then does life mean? Life means certain things are not yet done and must be done, and other things are done but not done well."
These stories were all extremely interesting, engaging and thought evoking, overall a the time I spent reading and reflecting over the words was time very well spent, for once.
"Often, just as I'm about to feel a small degree of pleasure, I feel a deep sadness. What is sadness? If I knew I would no longer feel sad. What then does life mean? Life means certain things are not yet done and must be done, and other things are done but not done well."
These stories were all extremely interesting, engaging and thought evoking, overall a the time I spent reading and reflecting over the words was time very well spent, for once.
October 29, 2020
from An Empty Room by Mu Xin (translated from the Chinese by Toming Jun Liu):
It's ironic that in this dungeon, forced into the life of an ascetic, I should feel like St. Anthony. As long as I can mentally resist the temptation of illusions, I will have my respite; yet I know that another storm will come, and that the punishment will continue, so that in the future when I remember the here and now, I might even call it the "good old days." In front of me is a dark blue inkbottle and a gray ashtray made of fine china. The ink bottle is provided by the work unit. Being public property, it is perhaps "socialist" in nature. The ashtray used to be a sugar bowl, part of a tea set made in England that I brought here with me. I guess that makes it "capitalist" in nature. When I first came to the dungeon I would smoke a pack of cigarettes a day; recently I have cut down to half a pack. With a wave of my hand, the matchstick with which I light my cigarette goes out. This, I discovered some time ago, could be used for my entertainment. All I had to do was plant the stick gently into the ashes of the ashtray and watch it burn from top to bottom, a tiny bright-red pillar of flame. The pillar would then turn gray, bend, break, and become a circle of ash among ashes. For several months I have been successfully directing the same drama: the ashtray resembles a circular stage on which the matchstick, like a legendary diva, sings her swan song before she slowly falls to the ground and dies.
It's ironic that in this dungeon, forced into the life of an ascetic, I should feel like St. Anthony. As long as I can mentally resist the temptation of illusions, I will have my respite; yet I know that another storm will come, and that the punishment will continue, so that in the future when I remember the here and now, I might even call it the "good old days." In front of me is a dark blue inkbottle and a gray ashtray made of fine china. The ink bottle is provided by the work unit. Being public property, it is perhaps "socialist" in nature. The ashtray used to be a sugar bowl, part of a tea set made in England that I brought here with me. I guess that makes it "capitalist" in nature. When I first came to the dungeon I would smoke a pack of cigarettes a day; recently I have cut down to half a pack. With a wave of my hand, the matchstick with which I light my cigarette goes out. This, I discovered some time ago, could be used for my entertainment. All I had to do was plant the stick gently into the ashes of the ashtray and watch it burn from top to bottom, a tiny bright-red pillar of flame. The pillar would then turn gray, bend, break, and become a circle of ash among ashes. For several months I have been successfully directing the same drama: the ashtray resembles a circular stage on which the matchstick, like a legendary diva, sings her swan song before she slowly falls to the ground and dies.
June 4, 2011
Wish there were half stars - I'd be tempted to give it 4.5 out of 5. Some really mesmerizing stuff here! Beautiful - particularly at it's best when dealing with melancholy memories etc. It's a collection of stories that don't always feel like stories - some are hard to think of as anything but a straight up retelling of a personal anecdote, and some that feel like an essay that doesn't really have a structure - a topic that meanders and digresses in a more or less agreeable way. I guess this comes from the Chinese literary form sanwen, which is deliberately a mix of fiction, memory, essay, prose, and poetry, according to the translator's afterword. Similar to the Japanese "I"-novel, perhaps, but in a much more abridged form.
In general skillfully translated, though the tone occasionally verges on the pompous (which might not be the fault of the translator, really). The one exception is "Quiet Afternoon Tea", which does not read well at all and is especially awkward in the characters' speech - all of which is (kind of) ironic, since it's one of the only story that ostensibly takes place in England with only British characters speaking in English. Maybe it was translated separately, first, a long time ago with little editing?
More to say in the future in a proper book review on Three Percent.
In general skillfully translated, though the tone occasionally verges on the pompous (which might not be the fault of the translator, really). The one exception is "Quiet Afternoon Tea", which does not read well at all and is especially awkward in the characters' speech - all of which is (kind of) ironic, since it's one of the only story that ostensibly takes place in England with only British characters speaking in English. Maybe it was translated separately, first, a long time ago with little editing?
More to say in the future in a proper book review on Three Percent.
September 26, 2019
Solid read. Very engaging and full of various short stories that mostly engage. Some far better than others. Fong Fong No. 4 was definitely memorable, but somewhat questionable in nature. The Moment When Childhood Vanished was excellent as a starter as well as a sort of meditative short story. Xia Mingzhu: A Bright Pearl was effective in it's brutality, highlighting the cruelty of Imperialist Japan during World War II. It also tied familial drama into the mix effectively. Fellow Passengers is quite effective in analyzing others as well as questioning one's own inaction. Many of these short stories have some big twist near the end that just gets you. It's also very easy to read with its straightforward wording and never too long due to the short story format. Highly recommended for those interested in thoughtful short stories from a creative writer that doesn't seem to run out of new ideas.
June 13, 2016
I really enjoyed these short stories. I've been on a quest to read books by non-White authors, and I'm glad I stumbled across Mu Xin. I thoroughly enjoyed the quiet beauty of Asia that served as the backdrop for these stories. I found it easy to read and it had a subtle elegance that wasn't a page turner, but it left me wanting to read more and more. I will be looking into more books by this author.
December 10, 2011
Some of these stories, I really liked (Xia Mingzhu: A Bright Pearl, Eighteen Passengers on a Bus, Halo, and some others), while others left me feeling that either I was missing something, or they were. The stories are all pretty understated and many of them feel more like paintings than stories. I'd like to read a longer work by Mu Xin.
January 18, 2014
These short stories, told in first person, are spare and often about objects: a blue bowl in “The Moment When Childhood Vanished.” The letters left by a couple in a room in an empty temple in “An Empty Room.” Does the company driver drive eighteen employees off a cliff or does the first narrator imagine it in “Eighteen Passengers on a Bus?”
May 3, 2015
I loved this collection and I will certainly go back for a second reading of most of the stories. I love this kind of writing that takes every day situations and heightens their impact - I found I could connect to many of the stories. However, some stories were more meditative and wandering and I didn't make it through all of those; stories for another time when I am in the mood.
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