Razor-sharp, pugnacious and blackly funny, Wang Xiaobo’s essays established him as one of China’s most popular – and subversive – writers. From the political power of silence to the irrepressible spirit of a pig he met while working in a commune, these reflections on life and literature in the shadow of the Cultural Revolution provide a rare glimpse of a fearless satirical genius.
Wang was born in an intellectual family in Beijing in 1952. He was sent to a farm in Yunnan province as an "intellectual youth" at the beginning of the Cultural Revolution in 1968. In 1971, he was sent to the countryside of Shandong province, and became a teacher. In 1972, he was allowed to return to Beijing, and he got a job as a working in a local factory. He met Li Yinhe in 1977, who was working as an editor for "Guangming Daily", and she later became his wife. He was accepted by Renmin University of China in 1978 where he studied economics and trade and got his Bachelor's Degree. He received his Master's Degree at the University of Pittsburgh in 1988. After he returned to China, he began to teach at Peking University and Renmin University of China. He quit his job as a college lecturer in 1992, and became a freelance writer. On April 11, 1997 he died suddenly of heart disease at his apartment.
A collection of essays by renowned Chinese writer Wang Xiaobo, an author born in the midst of the Cultural Revolution and one of the many “sent-down youth” forcibly moved to rural areas for re-education.
It’s interesting; he writes about various beliefs he holds, that of free speech, of meaningful labor, of the failure of truth in spoken conversation. And as you move between his more abstract ruminations on these topics (in which he himself admits he doesn’t have a clear point or argument), it’s occasionally broken up with direct anecdotes from his life.
And as you read, a portrait of his mind emerges. It’s understandable why someone believes what he does (for example, that language is often empty words, and perhaps actively detrimental to the pursuit of truth). Being forced into work he doesn’t enjoy, with its monotonous manual labor and didactic morality plays pushed by the Communist Party, it’s clear why there is resentment and why he lingers over these failures he witnessed across his country.
And the titular maverick pig refers to a pig he once tended to in his time as a farmer, a pig who managed to escape the confines of his pen and live a wild life in the forest, running away from certain death as meat for the table. And perhaps (although this is all implied of course), the author identifies with this pig. He aspires to that maverick nature, unbeholden to society and able to live and speak and live freely.
I enjoyed it more than I thought I would, given the meandering nature. It’s reflective, and indirect, but I do think I was able to access a mindset and worldview I wouldn’t otherwise embody, and that’s what literature is all about isn’t it?
The person making a farce of things is opportunistically monkeying around...he knew what he did was absurd but did it anyway because it was fun.
For once, I feel like the jacket blurb hits the nail on the head. Wang Xiaobo's essays are fearless, satirical, and funny. While he wrote in the wake of the Cultural Revolution, the message he delivers is equally pertinant to readers today, even outside of his own country.
This collection of essays is a rejection of moralizing groupthink, yet doesn't paint the world as fearfully dystopic. He shows that the first step towards freedom can be found in laughing at systemic absurdity.
Having experienced both the Cultural Revolution and living in the West, inward and outward reflections are the throughline in Xiaobo’s uneven and sometimes surprisingly meandering collection.
The strongest essay in the collection is the first one – The Silent Majority. It starts by referencing Günter Grass’ The Tin Drum, and from there, it’s a thoughtful examination of the tension between silence and speech, and the merits of the former. Xiaobo plays with the stereotype of the quiet Chinese, but he explains that silence reigned in public and people spoke freely with trusted people behind closed doors. He finds a kindred spirit in the memoirs of Dmitri Shostakovich, the Russian composer who put up with much the same under the Soviets. According to Xiaobo, only people used to not speaking can see the magic in the book. Moreover, what value did the spoken word have when big concepts of plenty flew in the face of the reality – Xiaobo was so starving, he ate pencils at school – and the reserved Chinese character? When it facilitated evil by verbalising social divisions, as seen in his school when his class was divided into Reds and Blacks. Or when people who supported the party were forced to change their way of speaking? Dogma does not fly off the tongue.
Other essays highlight socialist absurdities. When all the doctors are purged, people with appendicitis are obliged to go under a knife held by vets and laymen, people who take hours to find the organ and who, because of power outages, can only operate at the sunniest time of the day. There’s the wild tale of an indomitable pig, whose exploits show how the communist order sucks the happiness out of both animals and humans. The locals who overcharged the supposedly rich city students, the peasants who were anxious to be seen as intellectuals. And there’s a unique reflection of how growing up under Mao’s shadow makes one feel like a domestic appliance – a person gets used and there’s never really an explanation of justification why.
While the musings are interesting, the book does suffer sometimes from a lack of direction. Despite the conciseness of each essay, on occasion Xiaobo fails to get to the point, or draws conclusions that baffle, or he arrives at a non-sequitur after a promising start. He misquotes Edmund Hillary at one point and strangely attributes the quote to a generic ‘somebody’. On one hand, this is an attractive quality, the sign of a well-read man with a wealth of information in his brain, waiting to be sorted. Yet, when he talks about cultural relativism and Bertrand Russell, there are some surface-level observations, but it all ends in a hazy non-conclusion.
The eclectic themes also shine a light on the writer’s lot. Xiaobo apparently burnt many of his writings from his 20s, perhaps from a fear that he had been too bold in his writing, struggling to shake the vestigial terror from his formative years on a communist commune. He confesses that some of his books were still not published and how he received quite damning rejection letters. Given that he wrote for joy and resisted the urge to write about cages and oppression, unlike many of his peers who were also products of a restrictive environment, we can assume his writing was not for everyone. One of his friends baulked at his use of black humour rather than tears in a story, but Xiaobo, quite sanguinely, observed that people who write with comedy or with drama find their respective audiences.
Overall, the book is written in a pared-back style. Is this as a result of the translation, or simply how Xiaobo expressed himself? It’s hard to say, but it does make for a conversational dynamic that suits a series of quick-fire essays. It’s worth a look because of the themes broached, the fact that he seemed to be a nice guy, and to bear witness to what he was forced to endure. A combination of all three, rather than the force of argument or writing verve, saves it from some of its faults
I can understand why views on this author can be rather mixed but I don't remember when I last laughed so much while reading! I think there is good-natured charm to his humour (especially in his argument for the freedom of thought and purpose of writing) and speaks to individuals' immense resilience during prolonged and absurd adversity. I agree that his essays tend to suffer from not having a clear direction - but I enjoyed the meanderings that bring his ideas and reasoning through checkpoints and parallels that I wouldn't have thought of myself.
A fun collection of essays with some interesting outlooks on the world. Some of this is less maverick than when first written purely as a result of the world changing, but some of it ain't. The Maverick Pig story is a delight.
Has a bunch of references that I don't know and I love that. I didn't know there were the four great Chinese novels! Or yang is a big mouth while yin stays quiet?! So much to learn.
Plus I got a soft spot for someone talking up the pleasure of thinking rather than value judging. True that Wang, some things haven't changed.
I enjoyed these satirical writings, and I really wanted to like it more, but it feels like I was missing a lot of the context. I expect someone embedded deeper in Chinese society would have really gotten the messages better than I did. Still. A nice opening into Chinese thought during a time of difficulty.
A witty collection of short essays that deal with the experiences of Xiaobo in Yunnan, where he was sent to forcibly work in a farm during the Cultural Revolution years.
An intriguing collection of Wang Xiaobo's insights into and observations of, Chinese culture predominantly of the last century, offering up a series of essays that are both darkly amusing, and yet at times quite profound.