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La montaña del alma
Una novela que, a modo de libro de viajes, profundiza acerca del sentido de nuestra identidad.
El protagonista de este cuento de cuentos es un escritor chino a quien el azar le muestra su destino en un vagón de tren. A través de un desconocido descubre la existencia de la Montaña del Alma. Se propone entonces dedicar su tiempo, su aliento y su vida a encontrar esa montaña para conquistarla y desvelar sus secretos, abandonándose a los recodos del camino, al polvo de los vehículos, a las fábulas de los viejos moradores de las aldeas y a la ensoñación que preña las brumas de los altos picos. En su largo recorrido, el autor avanzará por la geografía, la tradición y la cultura chinas en pos de un objetivo tan sublime como inalcanzable: descifrar el sentido de nuestra identidad.
Reseña:
«Borges dijo que el Premio Nobel servía para publicitar a escritores poco conocidos. En este caso, la Academia Sueca nos ha hecho un favor premiando al autor de un libro formidable por su belleza y su simplicidad.»
Christopher Domínguez Michael, Letras Libres
575 pages, Paperback
First published December 1, 1990
About the author
Gao Xingjian
102 books397 followersGao Xingjian is a Chinese-born novelist, playwright, critic, and painter. An émigré to France since 1987, Gao was granted French citizenship in 1997. The recipient of the 2000 Nobel Prize in Literature, he is also a noted translator (particularly of Samuel Beckett and Eugène Ionesco), screenwriter, stage director, and a celebrated painter.
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December 5, 2025
Mountains and valleys… Towns and villages… Places… Roads to places…
Going from place to place he meets the young and the old… He listens to their stories… He tells them stories… And in the stories the past turns into myths and legends… He meets women…
He’s looking for a place known as Soul Mountain… Old traditions, beliefs and superstitions are intermingled with all the things of the modern times… The nation and people are wounded and scarred by the Cultural Revolution… Mad dictators invent mad regimes…
No one can stop history.
The old buildings on both sides stand flush with the road and all have wooden shopfronts. The downstairs is for business and upstairs there is washing hung out to dry – nappies, bras, underpants with patched crotches, floral-print bedspreads – like flags of all the nations, flapping in the noise and dust of the traffic. The concrete telegraph poles along the street are pasted at eye level with all sorts of posters.
Going from place to place he meets the young and the old… He listens to their stories… He tells them stories… And in the stories the past turns into myths and legends… He meets women…
In the orange-yellow sunlight of early morning, the mountain scenery is fresh and the air is clean, and it doesn’t seem that you’ve had a sleepless night. You have your arm around soft gentle shoulders and her head is resting on you. You don’t know whether or not she is the woman you dreamt of during the night, and can’t tell which of them is more real, you only know that right now she has willingly come with you and isn’t worried about where you are taking her.
He’s looking for a place known as Soul Mountain… Old traditions, beliefs and superstitions are intermingled with all the things of the modern times… The nation and people are wounded and scarred by the Cultural Revolution… Mad dictators invent mad regimes…
Later on, after many setbacks, he managed to get a teaching position in a newly-established university in Tangshan. However, how could it have been foreseen that he would be labelled the claws and teeth of anti-revolutionary black group elements and hauled out for public criticism. He suffered for almost ten years before the verdict “case unsubstantiated” was declared.
He was transferred out of Tianjin just ten days before the big earthquake of 1976. Those who had trumped up the case against him were crushed to death in a building which collapsed, it was in the middle of the night and not one of them escaped.
No one can stop history.
October 5, 2017
Why do you give yourself reading tasks? Why do you embark on a journey to read all Nobel Laureates in Literature?
Over the years, reading all kinds of books by a wide range of different authors from all over the world, I asked myself that question quite often. Some laureates had been favourites for decades before I started the project, others were completely new to me, and some were even hard to find in bookstores.
After I had finished Gao Xingjian's Soul Mountain, I thought I had an answer to the question:
It made me move into unknown territories, discovering elements of literature that enriched me in a surprising way, and it challenged my comfort zone by inviting me to embark on a spiritual journey in China. I would never have read this novel without the project that made me look beyond the most famous, the most popular, the most well-trodden paths.
After reading some of his plays, I dared to attempt Gao Xingjian's masterful novel - a collection of disruptive narratives reflecting on humankind and nature, and their fragile relationship to each other. I am sure many layers of the the novel remained unseen by me, being a novice in Gao Xingjian's world and mindset, but enough of it resonated strongly and left me utterly grateful when I closed the heavy volume: what a great philosopher!
"Young man, nature is not frightening, it's people who are frightening! You just need to get to know nature and it will become friendly. This creature known as man is of course highly intelligent, he's capable of manufacturing almost anything from rumours to test-tube babies and yet he destroys two to three species every day. This is the absurdity of man."
And part of the absurdity of (wo)man is to set herself strange tasks!
Over the years, reading all kinds of books by a wide range of different authors from all over the world, I asked myself that question quite often. Some laureates had been favourites for decades before I started the project, others were completely new to me, and some were even hard to find in bookstores.
After I had finished Gao Xingjian's Soul Mountain, I thought I had an answer to the question:
It made me move into unknown territories, discovering elements of literature that enriched me in a surprising way, and it challenged my comfort zone by inviting me to embark on a spiritual journey in China. I would never have read this novel without the project that made me look beyond the most famous, the most popular, the most well-trodden paths.
After reading some of his plays, I dared to attempt Gao Xingjian's masterful novel - a collection of disruptive narratives reflecting on humankind and nature, and their fragile relationship to each other. I am sure many layers of the the novel remained unseen by me, being a novice in Gao Xingjian's world and mindset, but enough of it resonated strongly and left me utterly grateful when I closed the heavy volume: what a great philosopher!
"Young man, nature is not frightening, it's people who are frightening! You just need to get to know nature and it will become friendly. This creature known as man is of course highly intelligent, he's capable of manufacturing almost anything from rumours to test-tube babies and yet he destroys two to three species every day. This is the absurdity of man."
And part of the absurdity of (wo)man is to set herself strange tasks!
May 20, 2007
This is barely a book. It's the at once epic and intimate journey of one man, told in different persons and with feelings sometimes instead of words (somehow), almost miraculously bound together and made tangible.
I am prone to exaggeration. But I have such specific remembrances--memories of feelings and moments of hyper-awareness--tied to this book.... For all the incredible books I have come across so far, NONE of them gave me what this book did. None of them made me so viscerally part of their story.
I am prone to exaggeration. But I have such specific remembrances--memories of feelings and moments of hyper-awareness--tied to this book.... For all the incredible books I have come across so far, NONE of them gave me what this book did. None of them made me so viscerally part of their story.
November 3, 2012
This was a difficult book to read. Not because I found Xingjian's writing style too disjointed or because I thought it was too dense, but because his gaze never seemed to swerve far away from his own navel. In the beginning the book seemed very promising but as I continued it read more and more like the recounting of a long and stupid dream.
Xingjian's preoccupation with himself reaches the point that when one character has the temerity to impose on his splendid isolation with a story of her own suffering it makes him physically ill. In another chapter he abandons a child by the road. Allegory or not, it is very telling of the kind of character that the I, he, you of the book is. There were interesting parts in the book, yes, but they all seemed to be used solely as backdrops to his endless self-adoration.
I realise the book is meant to be a meditation on the self and that is well and good but the impression it leaves me with is a man so enraptured by himself that he thinks every slightest creative whim of his own and every particular about his life has immediate significance and importance to the reader.
His treatment of women is also off somehow. They are invariably portrayed as cluelessly drifting along until snatched up by some willful male. For example, there are countless references to horrible crimes against women, including a lot of rape, that do not seem to do much in the way of raising the ire of the author but are instead presented as some immutable law of the universe.
That said, there were times when the book offered an engrossing window into the country and people there but without any overarching vision to tie those solitary gems together they remain unpolished diamonds buried in a soulless mountain of dung.
Xingjian's preoccupation with himself reaches the point that when one character has the temerity to impose on his splendid isolation with a story of her own suffering it makes him physically ill. In another chapter he abandons a child by the road. Allegory or not, it is very telling of the kind of character that the I, he, you of the book is. There were interesting parts in the book, yes, but they all seemed to be used solely as backdrops to his endless self-adoration.
I realise the book is meant to be a meditation on the self and that is well and good but the impression it leaves me with is a man so enraptured by himself that he thinks every slightest creative whim of his own and every particular about his life has immediate significance and importance to the reader.
His treatment of women is also off somehow. They are invariably portrayed as cluelessly drifting along until snatched up by some willful male. For example, there are countless references to horrible crimes against women, including a lot of rape, that do not seem to do much in the way of raising the ire of the author but are instead presented as some immutable law of the universe.
That said, there were times when the book offered an engrossing window into the country and people there but without any overarching vision to tie those solitary gems together they remain unpolished diamonds buried in a soulless mountain of dung.
May 4, 2025
Gao Xingjian, the 2000 Nobel Prize winner, was born in 1940 Jiangnan, south of the lower Yangtze, during wartime China. He studied in the People's Republic, graduating from Beijing University in 1962 with a French foreign language degree. He became a well known writer by 1980 shortly after the end of the Cultural Revolution. In 1983 he was misdiagnosed with lung cancer and faced deportation to a labor camp for falling afoul of Central Party censorship. His response was to go on a 9000 mile trek to wild Sichuan and back to the coast. In 1987 he defected to France, and published this 1990 book.
Gao imbeds in his reminiscence of backroad travel issues of loneliness and the relationship of the individual to family, friends, partners and a greater collective society. He reflects the problem of relationships as an inherent power struggle. Traditional Confucian values resulted in autocracy within the family as well as the empire. One of the few means of escape would be to join a Buddhist monastery, itself another form of group restriction. After the communist revolution of 1949 self sacrifice to the national project became entrenched and ideological repression was enforced by modern methods.
Gao meets a traveler on a train who tells of Soul Mountain, a wilderness area where mountain people live, in the foothills of Tibet. He finds a compound where bandits had holed up, abducting Red Army girls on the Long March. At a reserve for giant panda bears he stays with people who protect them against poachers. He rents a room in the village and falls in love with a young woman. They watch dragon dancers at the temple and he invents stories for her amusement. She is enigmatic, disappearing and reappearing, at times seductive, at times suicidal. He tells ghost tales to woo her into bed.
Gao weaves in characters from the village, a fortune teller, a grave robber, caretaker of the family temple, shaman widow. He departs for Soul Mountain with his feminine counterpart. He speaks of various ethnic groups, Yi, Bai and Miao, and their customs. He tells of recent political persecutions and cultural destruction. Ecology has a role, in the Three Gorges Dam, draining of lakes for farmland and habitat ruin. Gao has university connections and meets with archaeologists and botanists while a refugee. He follows the Yangtze from Guizhou to Jiangxi in a country on the cusp of change.
Gao encounters a wide range of folk religion and Daoism on the way. He is influenced by the Buddhist concept of the self as illusory and source of man's misery. The location of Soul Mountain remains a mystery. He takes refuge at a ranger station and learns of a 'five-step' deadly snake, a Buddhist metaphor for the five precepts, rules to abstain from killing, stealing, rape, lies and drugs. He climbs misty mountains and has visions of lost monasteries. The stories told are funny and frightening and he finds he knows nothing.
Gao divides himself into separate personas (You, I, He and She) to dispel loneliness on his solitary journey. The year spent alone leads to his realization that the need for social interaction outweighs the constraints imposed by society. Through visits to Buddhist monasteries and Daoist retreats he decides an ascetic life is not the answer. He recreates his personal past and the world of China during his lifetime, using storytelling to describe the people he had known. His stream of consciousness is unsettling as he switches from past to present and floats between reality and fantasy.
Gao wrote in a complex collage of classical and vernacular writing. It is certain this book would be better read in the language it was written. The tonal aspect of Chinese is often employed to draw associations between words. His work here seems allusive and poetic, never quite declaring its full intent. Begun in China in 1982, shortly before his health scare and mountain retreat, it was finished in Paris in 1989. Writers in China have used allegory and symbolism to evade censorship which may account for the elusive imagery. With all this in mind it is still not an easy book to fully grasp.
Gao imbeds in his reminiscence of backroad travel issues of loneliness and the relationship of the individual to family, friends, partners and a greater collective society. He reflects the problem of relationships as an inherent power struggle. Traditional Confucian values resulted in autocracy within the family as well as the empire. One of the few means of escape would be to join a Buddhist monastery, itself another form of group restriction. After the communist revolution of 1949 self sacrifice to the national project became entrenched and ideological repression was enforced by modern methods.
Gao meets a traveler on a train who tells of Soul Mountain, a wilderness area where mountain people live, in the foothills of Tibet. He finds a compound where bandits had holed up, abducting Red Army girls on the Long March. At a reserve for giant panda bears he stays with people who protect them against poachers. He rents a room in the village and falls in love with a young woman. They watch dragon dancers at the temple and he invents stories for her amusement. She is enigmatic, disappearing and reappearing, at times seductive, at times suicidal. He tells ghost tales to woo her into bed.
Gao weaves in characters from the village, a fortune teller, a grave robber, caretaker of the family temple, shaman widow. He departs for Soul Mountain with his feminine counterpart. He speaks of various ethnic groups, Yi, Bai and Miao, and their customs. He tells of recent political persecutions and cultural destruction. Ecology has a role, in the Three Gorges Dam, draining of lakes for farmland and habitat ruin. Gao has university connections and meets with archaeologists and botanists while a refugee. He follows the Yangtze from Guizhou to Jiangxi in a country on the cusp of change.
Gao encounters a wide range of folk religion and Daoism on the way. He is influenced by the Buddhist concept of the self as illusory and source of man's misery. The location of Soul Mountain remains a mystery. He takes refuge at a ranger station and learns of a 'five-step' deadly snake, a Buddhist metaphor for the five precepts, rules to abstain from killing, stealing, rape, lies and drugs. He climbs misty mountains and has visions of lost monasteries. The stories told are funny and frightening and he finds he knows nothing.
Gao divides himself into separate personas (You, I, He and She) to dispel loneliness on his solitary journey. The year spent alone leads to his realization that the need for social interaction outweighs the constraints imposed by society. Through visits to Buddhist monasteries and Daoist retreats he decides an ascetic life is not the answer. He recreates his personal past and the world of China during his lifetime, using storytelling to describe the people he had known. His stream of consciousness is unsettling as he switches from past to present and floats between reality and fantasy.
Gao wrote in a complex collage of classical and vernacular writing. It is certain this book would be better read in the language it was written. The tonal aspect of Chinese is often employed to draw associations between words. His work here seems allusive and poetic, never quite declaring its full intent. Begun in China in 1982, shortly before his health scare and mountain retreat, it was finished in Paris in 1989. Writers in China have used allegory and symbolism to evade censorship which may account for the elusive imagery. With all this in mind it is still not an easy book to fully grasp.
January 5, 2016
A powerful spiritual experience, coming from an author still alive!!
I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the author took refuge in France, was living in an inner city project housing at the time he got the Nobel Prize.
A deeply enriching story of his journey, which is at the same time entertaining. A powerful combination of depth and lightness. I haven't come across a chronicle of journey like this for a long time. It fits so well with his Nobel Prize speech, in wisdom and modesty.
I was pleasantly surprised to find out that the author took refuge in France, was living in an inner city project housing at the time he got the Nobel Prize.
A deeply enriching story of his journey, which is at the same time entertaining. A powerful combination of depth and lightness. I haven't come across a chronicle of journey like this for a long time. It fits so well with his Nobel Prize speech, in wisdom and modesty.
August 31, 2013
Cao Hành Kiện và Linh sơn
Cái đẹp và sự thương cảm - đó là định nghĩa chính xác nhất về nghệ thuật.
(Nabokov)
1. Cao Hành Kiện
Lời cảm tạ của Cao Hành Kiện (với quốc vương Thuỵ Điển tại lễ trao giải Nobel văn học 2000):
“Quốc vương bệ hạ tôn kính,
Con người đang đứng trước mặt ngài hãy còn nhớ, anh ta hồi tám tuổi, bà mẹ bảo viết nhật ký, anh ta đã viết như thế này, và cứ viết mãi cho đến lúc trưởng thành.
Anh ta cũng còn nhớ, khi vào trường trung học, thầy giáo dạy tập làm văn treo lên bảng một tấm tranh quảng cáo, không nói đề mục, mọi người hãy viết về bức tranh này. Nhưng anh ta không thích bức tranh ấy, bèn viết một bài dài phê bình nó. Thầy giáo không những không nổi giận mà còn cho anh ta điểm cao, lại có lời nhận xét nữa: Bút lực rất khoẻ. Anh ta cứ thế tiếp tục viết, từ đồng thoại sang tiểu thuyết, từ thơ đến kịch, mãi khi cách mạng văn hoá tới, anh ta sợ quá, đốt hết toàn bộ.
Sau đó anh ta đi làm ruộng khá nhiều năm. Nhưng vẫn ngấm ngầm viết, đem bản thảo giấu vào trong hũ, chôn xuống đất.
Những tác phẩm anh ta viết sau đó lại bị cấm in.
Về sau, khi sang phương Tây, anh ta vẫn viết và không quan tâm tới việc xuất bản hay không. Dẫu xuất bản đi nữa, cũng không để ý là có phản ứng hay không. Bỗng nhiên lại được đến đại sảnh lộng lẫy này, để nhận từ trong tay quốc vương bệ hạ phần thưởng cao quý.
Thế rồi, không nén được, anh ta hỏi: Thưa quốc vương bệ hạ, đây là thực ư? Hay là câu chuyện đồng thoại?” [1]
Đọc bài này, không khỏi giật mình nghĩ, nếu người thầy giáo trung học của họ Cao cũng theo thói thường tình, chấm bài theo đáp án sẵn có mà cho Cao điểm thấp hay phê phán đả đảo Cao thì liệu Cao còn cảm hứng để sau này tiếp tục viết, “đem bản thảo giấu vào trong hũ, chôn xuống đất” không? Và không biết nước Trung Hoa hơn 1 tỷ dân tới giờ liệu có người nào được tặng thưởng giải Nobel văn học hay chưa?! Năm trước, cả nước Việt Nam xôn xao vì lời chê của một em học sinh lớp 11 với tác phẩm Văn tế nghĩa sĩ Cần Giuộc của nhà thơ Nguyễn Đình Chiểu trong một cuộc thi học sinh giỏi văn. Chợt nghĩ, lẽ nào các nhà giáo dục nước ta lại hẹp hòi hơn người thầy giáo của họ Cao mấy mươi năm về trước?
2. Linh sơn
Tôi gấp cuốn sách lại sau khi kết thúc nó vào chiều cuối cùng năm Bính Tuất. Biết nói gì về Linh Sơn đây? Thật khó. Trừ cái cảm giác đó là một áng văn tuyệt đẹp. Hơn nữa, như lời của Hội đồng trao giải Nobel 2000, đó là cuốn sách tự nó làm thành riêng một thể loại. Gần đây, người ta thường nhắc tới các tiểu thuyết hậu hiện đại, nhưng trong số ít ỏi mà tôi được đọc thì có lẽ Đời nhẹ khôn kham (The Unbearable Lightness of Being) của Kundera và Linh sơn của Cao Hành Kiện là hai tác phẩm mẫu mực, để lại ấn tượng nhiều hơn cả.
Với Linh sơn, bạn còn tìm thấy được một vẻ đẹp khó tả của thiên nhiên, của nền văn hoá Trung Hoa giàu có, của lịch sử một nước Trung Hoa bạo liệt. Đó không chỉ là nền văn hoá của người Hán mà còn là nền văn hoá của người Miêu, của các dân tộc ít người trên vùng biên giới Tây Nam, vốn bị người Hán khinh rẻ và văn hoá Hán áp chế. Không phải ngẫu nhiên mà trong Linh sơn, Cao Hành Kiện nhắc tới chuyện Hoàng Đế - thuỷ tổ người Hán - diệt Suy Vưu, còn Đại Vũ là kẻ đầu tiên bóp chết kẻ khác để thực hiện ý chí của mình.
Trước kia, tôi vẫn ngại đọc tiểu thuyết Trung Hoa hiện đại vì ghét cái tủn mủn, tiểu khí, hay thô tục trong nhiều cuốn - cái khí chất của một thùng phuy nặng mùi bí bách lâu ngày mới được (thỉnh thoảng) mở nắp. Nhưng với Cao Hành Kiện thì khác. Văn Cao Hành Kiện phóng khoáng, lãng mạn, dạt dào, lúc trầm mặc như bức tranh thuỷ mặc, lúc hào hứng cuồn cuộn như nước chảy, có khi huyền ảo, có khi lại rất phong tình, thảng hoặc hóm hỉnh, nhưng dư vị để lại lại là một niềm chua xót và thương cảm.
Con người trong Linh sơn đi tìm Linh sơn, một ngọn núi thiêng trong huyền thoại. Con người đó là ai? Là bạn, là tôi, là cô ấy, là anh ấy [2] ? Là một người, hay là nhiều người? Con người đó tìm gì? Tìm về bản ngã của mình? Hay đó là hành trình tìm tới cái đẹp? Tìm về cội nguồn văn hoá của mảnh đất đang sống, về những miền thời gian đã bị đánh mất, những số mệnh đau khổ của con người bị đè nghiến, bị vùi dập, bị lãng quên trước những chao đảo nghiệt ngã của thời cuộc?
Con người trong Linh sơn thật cô đơn. Dù bạn/tôi/cô ấy/anh ấy có bấu víu, yêu thương hay hành hạ nhau thì bạn/tôi/cô ấy/anh ấy vẫn cô đơn. Nhưng phải chăng, chỉ khi nhân vật tự ý thức được sự cô đơn đó thì mới tìm được mình? Cũng cần nói thêm là trong Linh sơn, những trang viết về giới tính, về nỗi cô đơn và ham muốn của đàn ông và đàn bà rất xuất sắc. Nhân vật nữ trong tác phẩm của Cao Hành Kiện sinh động và giàu sức sống không kém nhân vật nam, trong khi vẫn có một cái gì đó huyền ảo (các đồng thoại Trung Quốc chẳng thường để nhân vật nữ là hồ ly tinh lấy chồng, sinh con, nhưng vẫn bí hiểm một cách rất chi “hồ ly tinh” đó sao). Trong khi dễ đồng cảm với nhân vật nam, tôi lại hết sức cảm thông và thương xót cho nhân vật nữ của ông.
Con người đó có tìm được Linh sơn không? Mà có Linh sơn không? Cao Hành Kiện trả lời bằng mấy câu kệ, mà ông cho là một ngạn ngữ cổ đã có từ mấy nghìn năm:
“Có cũng về,
Không cũng về,
Đứng ở bên sông gió tái tê”.
Khi ta biết là đã có thể “về” rồi, thì phải chăng là ta đã tới được Linh sơn? Hoặc là gần tới chăng? Có cũng vậy mà không cũng vậy, nào khác chi đâu.
Gần như không thể so sánh Cao Hành Kiện với bất kỳ tác giả nào khác. Là một nhà văn thấm đẫm chất phương Đông và tính dân gian (bản thân ông là hoạ sĩ tranh thuỷ mặc), nhưng ông cũng là người thử nghiệm cách viết chịu nhiều ảnh hưởng của phương Tây. Người duy nhất khiến tôi cảm thấy có gì đó gần gũi với Cao là Kawabata, với những câu văn phảng phất như những bài thơ thiền, như kết tinh trong đó vẻ đẹp của nền văn hoá Nhật Bản, “đẹp và buồn” [3] ? Có lẽ, không phải ngẫu nhiên, mà Cao và Kawabata là hai người Trung Hoa và Nhật Bản đầu tiên được trao giải Nobel. Đọc họ, lại nghĩ không biết đến bao giờ văn học Việt Nam mới thoát được những tủn mủn của thời gian, của áp lực tên tuổi tác giả hay một mảnh chiếu trên văn đàn để có được những tác phẩm đẹp và gợi cảm, kết tinh được cả một nền văn hoá đặc sắc, như của Cao Hành Kiện hay Kawabata?
Nhân đây cũng xin nói thêm về các bản dịch Linh sơn. Theo tôi được biết, có ba bản dịch Linh sơn ra tiếng Việt. Ðây là một hiện tượng hiếm hoi, mà theo tôi, phản ánh sự đánh giá cao của người Việt với Cao Hành Kiện và phần nào là sự tương đồng văn hoá giữa Linh sơn với người Việt (thực ra bối cảnh Linh sơn là vùng Tây Nam Trung Quốc - địa bàn sinh sống của người Bách Việt cổ khi xưa - và rất có thể bộ tộc Âu Việt của Thục Phán cũng xuất xứ từ vùng này mà tiến xuống phương Nam lập ra nước Âu Lạc). Bản tôi đọc là do Hồ Quang Du dịch từ tiếng Trung, và theo tôi, rất xuất sắc. Ngoài ra còn một bản dịch từ tiếng Pháp cũng lấy tên là Linh sơn của Trần Đĩnh và bản từ tiếng Trung, lấy tên là Núi thiêng của Ông Văn Tùng.
Viết đã khá dài như vậy, nhưng liệu bạn và tôi, chúng ta có hiểu được Linh sơn không? Xin trích lại ba dòng cuối cùng trong cuốn sách thay cho câu trả lời.
“Vờ làm ra hiểu nhưng rốt cục vẫn chẳng hiểu.
Kỳ thực tôi chẳng hiểu gì, chẳng biết rõ điều gì.
Nó như thế đấy”.
Nhưng chúng ta có chắc rằng nghệ thuật là để “hiểu” không? Hay Nabokov [4] đã có lý hơn khi trong bài giảng về tác phẩm “Hoá thân” của Kafka, ông viết “Cái đẹp và sự thương cảm - đó là định nghĩa chính xác nhất về nghệ thuật. Ở nơi nào có cái đẹp, ở đó có sự thương cảm, bởi một lẽ giản dị là cái đẹp sẽ phải chết; và cái đẹp luôn luôn chết”.
Trong Linh sơn, người đọc có thể chạm vào cái đẹp và sự thương cảm trên từng trang sách.
© 2007 talawas
[1]In trong cuốn Linh sơn, nhà xuất bản Văn Học 2003, bản dịch của Hồ Quang Du.
[2]Các đại từ nhân xưng chỉ các nhân vật trong Linh sơn theo bản dịch của Hồ Quang Du.
[3]Tên một tác phẩm của Kawataba
[4]Nhà văn nổi tiếng người Nga sống lưu vong ở Pháp và Mỹ, tác giả cuốn Lolita.
Cao Hành Kiện và Linh Sơn
Cái đẹp và sự thương cảm - đó là định nghĩa chính xác nhất về nghệ thuật.
(Nabokov)
1. Cao Hành Kiện
Lời cảm tạ của Cao Hành Kiện (với quốc vương Thuỵ Điển tại lễ trao giải Nobel văn học 2000):
“Quốc vương bệ hạ tôn kính,
Con người đang đứng trước mặt ngài hãy còn nhớ, anh ta hồi tám tuổi, bà mẹ bảo viết nhật ký, anh ta đã viết như thế này, và cứ viết mãi cho đến lúc trưởng thành.
Anh ta cũng còn nhớ, khi vào trường trung học, thầy giáo dạy tập làm văn treo lên bảng một tấm tranh quảng cáo, không nói đề mục, mọi người hãy viết về bức tranh này. Nhưng anh ta không thích bức tranh ấy, bèn viết một bài dài phê bình nó. Thầy giáo không những không nổi giận mà còn cho anh ta điểm cao, lại có lời nhận xét nữa: Bút lực rất khoẻ. Anh ta cứ thế tiếp tục viết, từ đồng thoại sang tiểu thuyết, từ thơ đến kịch, mãi khi cách mạng văn hoá tới, anh ta sợ quá, đốt hết toàn bộ.
Sau đó anh ta đi làm ruộng khá nhiều năm. Nhưng vẫn ngấm ngầm viết, đem bản thảo giấu vào trong hũ, chôn xuống đất.
Những tác phẩm anh ta viết sau đó lại bị cấm in.
Về sau, khi sang phương Tây, anh ta vẫn viết và không quan tâm tới việc xuất bản hay không. Dẫu xuất bản đi nữa, cũng không để ý là có phản ứng hay không. Bỗng nhiên lại được đến đại sảnh lộng lẫy này, để nhận từ trong tay quốc vương bệ hạ phần thưởng cao quý.
Thế rồi, không nén được, anh ta hỏi: Thưa quốc vương bệ hạ, đây là thực ư? Hay là câu chuyện đồng thoại?” [1]
Đọc bài này, không khỏi giật mình nghĩ, nếu người thầy giáo trung học của họ Cao cũng theo thói thường tình, chấm bài theo đáp án sẵn có mà cho Cao điểm thấp hay phê phán đả đảo Cao thì liệu Cao còn cảm hứng để sau này tiếp tục viết, “đem bản thảo giấu vào trong hũ, chôn xuống đất” không? Và không biết nước Trung Hoa hơn 1 tỷ dân tới giờ liệu có người nào được tặng thưởng giải Nobel văn học hay chưa?! Năm trước, cả nước Việt Nam xôn xao vì lời chê của một em học sinh lớp 11 với tác phẩm Văn tế nghĩa sĩ Cần Giuộc của nhà thơ Nguyễn Đình Chiểu trong một cuộc thi học sinh giỏi văn. Chợt nghĩ, lẽ nào các nhà giáo dục nước ta lại hẹp hòi hơn người thầy giáo của họ Cao mấy mươi năm về trước?
2. Linh sơn
Tôi gấp cuốn sách lại sau khi kết thúc nó vào chiều cuối cùng năm Bính Tuất. Biết nói gì về Linh Sơn đây? Thật khó. Trừ cái cảm giác đó là một áng văn tuyệt đẹp. Hơn nữa, như lời của Hội đồng trao giải Nobel 2000, đó là cuốn sách tự nó làm thành riêng một thể loại. Gần đây, người ta thường nhắc tới các tiểu thuyết hậu hiện đại, nhưng trong số ít ỏi mà tôi được đọc thì có lẽ Đời nhẹ khôn kham (The Unbearable Lightness of Being) của Kundera và Linh sơn của Cao Hành Kiện là hai tác phẩm mẫu mực, để lại ấn tượng nhiều hơn cả.
Với Linh sơn, bạn còn tìm thấy được một vẻ đẹp khó tả của thiên nhiên, của nền văn hoá Trung Hoa giàu có, của lịch sử một nước Trung Hoa bạo liệt. Đó không chỉ là nền văn hoá của người Hán mà còn là nền văn hoá của người Miêu, của các dân tộc ít người trên vùng biên giới Tây Nam, vốn bị người Hán khinh rẻ và văn hoá Hán áp chế. Không phải ngẫu nhiên mà trong Linh sơn, Cao Hành Kiện nhắc tới chuyện Hoàng Đế - thuỷ tổ người Hán - diệt Suy Vưu, còn Đại Vũ là kẻ đầu tiên bóp chết kẻ khác để thực hiện ý chí của mình.
Trước kia, tôi vẫn ngại đọc tiểu thuyết Trung Hoa hiện đại vì ghét cái tủn mủn, tiểu khí, hay thô tục trong nhiều cuốn - cái khí chất của một thùng phuy nặng mùi bí bách lâu ngày mới được (thỉnh thoảng) mở nắp. Nhưng với Cao Hành Kiện thì khác. Văn Cao Hành Kiện phóng khoáng, lãng mạn, dạt dào, lúc trầm mặc như bức tranh thuỷ mặc, lúc hào hứng cuồn cuộn như nước chảy, có khi huyền ảo, có khi lại rất phong tình, thảng hoặc hóm hỉnh, nhưng dư vị để lại lại là một niềm chua xót và thương cảm.
Con người trong Linh sơn đi tìm Linh sơn, một ngọn núi thiêng trong huyền thoại. Con người đó là ai? Là bạn, là tôi, là cô ấy, là anh ấy [2] ? Là một người, hay là nhiều người? Con người đó tìm gì? Tìm về bản ngã của mình? Hay đó là hành trình tìm tới cái đẹp? Tìm về cội nguồn văn hoá của mảnh đất đang sống, về những miền thời gian đã bị đánh mất, những số mệnh đau khổ của con người bị đè nghiến, bị vùi dập, bị lãng quên trước những chao đảo nghiệt ngã của thời cuộc?
Con người trong Linh sơn thật cô đơn. Dù bạn/tôi/cô ấy/anh ấy có bấu víu, yêu thương hay hành hạ nhau thì bạn/tôi/cô ấy/anh ấy vẫn cô đơn. Nhưng phải chăng, chỉ khi nhân vật tự ý thức được sự cô đơn đó thì mới tìm được mình? Cũng cần nói thêm là trong Linh sơn, những trang viết về giới tính, về nỗi cô đơn và ham muốn của đàn ông và đàn bà rất xuất sắc. Nhân vật nữ trong tác phẩm của Cao Hành Kiện sinh động và giàu sức sống không kém nhân vật nam, trong khi vẫn có một cái gì đó huyền ảo (các đồng thoại Trung Quốc chẳng thường để nhân vật nữ là hồ ly tinh lấy chồng, sinh con, nhưng vẫn bí hiểm một cách rất chi “hồ ly tinh” đó sao). Trong khi dễ đồng cảm với nhân vật nam, tôi lại hết sức cảm thông và thương xót cho nhân vật nữ của ông.
Con người đó có tìm được Linh sơn không? Mà có Linh sơn không? Cao Hành Kiện trả lời bằng mấy câu kệ, mà ông cho là một ngạn ngữ cổ đã có từ mấy nghìn năm:
“Có cũng về,
Không cũng về,
Đứng ở bên sông gió tái tê”.
Khi ta biết là đã có thể “về” rồi, thì phải chăng là ta đã tới được Linh sơn? Hoặc là gần tới chăng? Có cũng vậy mà không cũng vậy, nào khác chi đâu.
Gần như không thể so sánh Cao Hành Kiện với bất kỳ tác giả nào khác. Là một nhà văn thấm đẫm chất phương Đông và tính dân gian (bản thân ông là hoạ sĩ tranh thuỷ mặc), nhưng ông cũng là người thử nghiệm cách viết chịu nhiều ảnh hưởng của phương Tây. Người duy nhất khiến tôi cảm thấy có gì đó gần gũi với Cao là Kawabata, với những câu văn phảng phất như những bài thơ thiền, như kết tinh trong đó vẻ đẹp của nền văn hoá Nhật Bản, “đẹp và buồn” [3] ? Có lẽ, không phải ngẫu nhiên, mà Cao và Kawabata là hai người Trung Hoa và Nhật Bản đầu tiên được trao giải Nobel. Đọc họ, lại nghĩ không biết đến bao giờ văn học Việt Nam mới thoát được những tủn mủn của thời gian, của áp lực tên tuổi tác giả hay một mảnh chiếu trên văn đàn để có được những tác phẩm đẹp và gợi cảm, kết tinh được cả một nền văn hoá đặc sắc, như của Cao Hành Kiện hay Kawabata?
Nhân đây cũng xin nói thêm về các bản dịch Linh sơn. Theo tôi được biết, có ba bản dịch Linh sơn ra tiếng Việt. Ðây là một hiện tượng hiếm hoi, mà theo tôi, phản ánh sự đánh giá cao của người Việt với Cao Hành Kiện và phần nào là sự tương đồng văn hoá giữa Linh sơn với người Việt (thực ra bối cảnh Linh sơn là vùng Tây Nam Trung Quốc - địa bàn sinh sống của người Bách Việt cổ khi xưa - và rất có thể bộ tộc Âu Việt của Thục Phán cũng xuất xứ từ vùng này mà tiến xuống phương Nam lập ra nước Âu Lạc). Bản tôi đọc là do Hồ Quang Du dịch từ tiếng Trung, và theo tôi, rất xuất sắc. Ngoài ra còn một bản dịch từ tiếng Pháp cũng lấy tên là Linh sơn của Trần Đĩnh và bản từ tiếng Trung, lấy tên là Núi thiêng của Ông Văn Tùng.
Viết đã khá dài như vậy, nhưng liệu bạn và tôi, chúng ta có hiểu được Linh sơn không? Xin trích lại ba dòng cuối cùng trong cuốn sách thay cho câu trả lời.
“Vờ làm ra hiểu nhưng rốt cục vẫn chẳng hiểu.
Kỳ thực tôi chẳng hiểu gì, chẳng biết rõ điều gì.
Nó như thế đấy”.
Nhưng chúng ta có chắc rằng nghệ thuật là để “hiểu” không? Hay Nabokov [4] đã có lý hơn khi trong bài giảng về tác phẩm “Hoá thân” của Kafka, ông viết “Cái đẹp và sự thương cảm - đó là định nghĩa chính xác nhất về nghệ thuật. Ở nơi nào có cái đẹp, ở đó có sự thương cảm, bởi một lẽ giản dị là cái đẹp sẽ phải chết; và cái đẹp luôn luôn chết”.
Trong Linh sơn, người đọc có thể chạm vào cái đẹp và sự thương cảm trên từng trang sách.
© 2007 talawas
[1]In trong cuốn Linh sơn, nhà xuất bản Văn Học 2003, bản dịch của Hồ Quang Du.
[2]Các đại từ nhân xưng chỉ các nhân vật trong Linh sơn theo bản dịch của Hồ Quang Du.
[3]Tên một tác phẩm của Kawataba
[4]Nhà văn nổi tiếng người Nga sống lưu vong ở Pháp và Mỹ, tác giả cuốn Lolita.
Cao Hành Kiện và Linh Sơn
June 26, 2017
25th of February 2013.
I cannot help, but to refer these news:"Chinese Officials Admit 'Cancer Villages' Due To Pollution Exist"*.
http://www.ibtimes.com/chinese-offici...
(Buddha Sakyamuni and Mahakayapa)
Preamble
Lingshaw means Soul Mountain.
In this book there's an enlightening preface by Noël Dutrait referring that, in China, "in the end of the 1970's there was a timid political liberalization", therefore allowing writers not to serve the (communist) party.
Gao Xingjian is a writer and painter born in 1940; in 1997 he was granted French citizenship. In several interviews I've watched, he said (in good French): "in my natal country, my name and books are censured".
About the Olympic Games, Gao commented, that "everybody is aware about censorship in China"[Anti-spiritual Pollution Campaign]. I read also that his present book "is a literary response to the devastation of the self".
(by painter Bada Shanren; 1625-1705)
Gao said that "painting starts where words cannot go"; but while reading this book I had this great feeling I was viewing terrifically beautiful landscapes....of forests and mountains and ...of soul's....
It's a different style of writing: Gao's quite good enabling images through words. Gao affirmed that:"the artist can express himself...has a voice of his own...he's a conscience".
The Chinese writer thinks that a single writer cannot change the world...it's "utopic". And yet his words will endure.Gao asks: who reads the political speeches?...only Historians; but Shakespeare, and the Greek Tragedies ...and Don Quijote: everybody reads them.
(by painter Gong Xian; 1660-1700)
The book's story is auto-biographical especially in what concerns the "diagnosed terminal cancer" and, in general, the China hinterland tour (5 months).
The Story
The main character of the story is a matured man called Li.He lived a lot of time in the city.We found him with a back pack on a 12 hours bus ride...on his way to visit his natal land...in South China. Li muses that "everybody returns here due to advanced age":... who can escape nostalgia?
He watches the people: they hug tightly, they have their own vocabulary, quite different from the Northern people (these are rustic).
...
Here, while reading,we get introduced to a new style of narration: an omnipresent narrator addresses Li constantly telling him things, like: "you, yourself, don't know why you came here".
On the train Li heard that there was a place called Lingshaw: Soul Mountain.How can you get there?
Li took a bus to little Wuyi village; old books speak about Lingshaw; like Classic of the Seas and the Mountains; they say that the Buddha awakened there the venerable Mahakayapa.
Li's trip is a voyage to return to Nature, to have an authentic life; he should have abandoned pollution a long time ago. He had been diagnosed lung cancer.
(by painter Gong Xian; 1660-1700)
On his trip he recalls old traditions that the Cultural Revolution prohibited; like the dance around the fire till dawn; the old songs and lyrics were replaced by Mao's quotes! Li says that some of his country men declared to be of QIANG ethnicity to be allowed to have more children, hence escaping birth control policies. Li comments: "I came here to study the popular chants". The Qiang ("race") live between the high Tibetan plateau and the Sichuan basin...and they adore the fire.
Li wanted to escape the literary world and the "smoke" of his room.
It's Springtime and Li says "I let my spirit wander"; he's back to a place of childhood and youth.
In Wuyi he meets a woman, who was staring at the mountains; but then she disappeared. Li watches a young couple laughing,joyfully. The Omnipresent narrator´s voice tells him: "you've passed that age, you don't feel the same joy as they do".
The woman wasn't as happy as the couple,... she doesn't look like them.Li feels the need to communicate...when he sees the woman buying grapefruit. But she doesn't answer.
The Voice is back on Li:"you don't know how to love, you lost your virility, so weak you are".
Li recalls mountains´ walk.It's cold in the mountains, despite being springtime. Li spent two nights at the Panda's Observation field.
Li tells the story of the Dragon Feast; and the tragedy stories (suicides) of the Passage of Yu, a village mentioned in the Historical Memories of Sima Quan (145-86 B.C.).
Forests. The Chinese writer loves nature and describes the one-million years old Beeches; 40-meters tall.
Li explains the concept of Kalpa: the succession of existences and rebirths of man, in Buddhist religion; and the parallels between Kalpa and the Bambu tree 60-years cycle.
(by painter Hsü Wei; 1529-1593)
The guide tells Li that once there were tigers,but now: no more tigers in South China. "Nature doesn't scare you, but man does", concludes Li.
Li is worried; is there (still) a primitive forest, yet untouched by man?; yes, at point 11M12M. Li knows about the Blue Bird, that seeks food for Mother Queen of the West. It's in Tang's poetry.
Remembered: the pollution of river Minjiang; not to speak of the Yangzi's; the Three Gorges will destroy the equilibrium of the Yangzi Basin.
And then there are references to the metallic black of the Tsugas trees; firs trees of dark grey....and the rare white azalea. The cuckoo singing like "Big Brother wait for me".
Li is "breathless...in a state of serenity never known before". But Li will say "Nature fooled me... a man with no beliefs, who's afraid of nothing and thinks he's important". Li is lost in the forest. "I yell... fog falls upon me...";and all Li has got is "seven candies" in his pocket. For all his life he's been expecting a miracle.
Li is back on the dialogues with the "different" woman. She told him: she wanted to die. "It should be good to die in purity".Nobody can recognize her, nobody knows her name; those names she gave at the hotel were false. She tells her story to Li. She met a man, loved him...but vomited,despite not being pregnant; they had plans, but no kids included.And then, hysterically, she insulted him, due to her grief...and love ended. She worked in a hospital,but hated work and family, even her father: a drunken man, a weak man, subjugated by her stepmother.
Li asks hurt-woman if she wants to cross the river, to the other side: there, it's Lingshaw-the Soul Mountain.A place where you can see marvels, that will help you forgetting...and get liberation. Li says she's truly cunning. She says she's not stupid.
(by painter Hua Yen; 1682 – 1756)
Li speaks about himself; about the time when lung cancer was diagnosed; had he experienced repentance?... he went through a period of time remembering "his own errors": was he ungrateful to others, or the other way around?. At that time a friend told him about respiratory practices (Qi Qong)that could help him. Li started walking in parks, where people took cages with birds for a stroll.The city was polluted. Also, Li started reading the Book of Mutations, the YiJing and its hexagrams. His friend had studied genetic engineering; he thought "life is admirable-a chance phenomenon". Li acknowledges his mother really loved him but she passed away. And he really hated his wife, whom he separated from. Li thought life was an inextricable knot...of rage?
What?? the "fibroscopy" revealed there was nothing!! May the Buddha be praised! He had promised if he had another chance he would change course in his life. And miracle happened. Li the one who thought about young people praying: what a foolishness!!! Li the one who felt pity for those praying. Now: he felt he was reciting the name of the Buddha Amithaba, with "all his heart", before receiving the "fibroscopy" result. Man is nothing in the face of adversities.
One day Li consults a psychic woman; she's having convulsions and tells about his destiny; "you are surrounded by great difficulties and the little men";Li knows them: "the Sanshi...the little men living in the body of men, hiding in the throat, feeding on saliva". The psychic woman tells him too: you've found the white tiger. Li knows what that means.
The Great Emperor Tang was a Li too; Li is the descendant of a family of generals and ministers, not only of tomb robbers.Li ancestors are recalled.
The psychic woman had told Li: "I think you won't get pardon...there's an evil man who wants to punish you...you'll hardly escape".Nine white tigers.
The story goes on.What will Li find in Soul Mountain? Will he ever get pardoned?... or find liberation?
Time to ascribe 4 and a half stars to Gao's. He plainly deserves them.
(by painter Zheng Banqiao;1693-1765)
Post Scriptum
"I recall when I was a child the Yangtzi water was pure in all seasons".
Gao Xingjian
(Chongqing city,south-west of China,in The Economist,Feb 4th 2012)
(air pollution,...2013 Beijing)
*
(China's cancer villages -- areas with cancer patients significantly above the national average -- mapped out by various researchers and produced by environmentalist Deng Fei in 2009).
I cannot help, but to refer these news:"Chinese Officials Admit 'Cancer Villages' Due To Pollution Exist"*.
http://www.ibtimes.com/chinese-offici...
(Buddha Sakyamuni and Mahakayapa)
Preamble
Lingshaw means Soul Mountain.
In this book there's an enlightening preface by Noël Dutrait referring that, in China, "in the end of the 1970's there was a timid political liberalization", therefore allowing writers not to serve the (communist) party.
Gao Xingjian is a writer and painter born in 1940; in 1997 he was granted French citizenship. In several interviews I've watched, he said (in good French): "in my natal country, my name and books are censured".
About the Olympic Games, Gao commented, that "everybody is aware about censorship in China"[Anti-spiritual Pollution Campaign]. I read also that his present book "is a literary response to the devastation of the self".
(by painter Bada Shanren; 1625-1705)
Gao said that "painting starts where words cannot go"; but while reading this book I had this great feeling I was viewing terrifically beautiful landscapes....of forests and mountains and ...of soul's....
It's a different style of writing: Gao's quite good enabling images through words. Gao affirmed that:"the artist can express himself...has a voice of his own...he's a conscience".
The Chinese writer thinks that a single writer cannot change the world...it's "utopic". And yet his words will endure.Gao asks: who reads the political speeches?...only Historians; but Shakespeare, and the Greek Tragedies ...and Don Quijote: everybody reads them.
(by painter Gong Xian; 1660-1700)
The book's story is auto-biographical especially in what concerns the "diagnosed terminal cancer" and, in general, the China hinterland tour (5 months).
The Story
The main character of the story is a matured man called Li.He lived a lot of time in the city.We found him with a back pack on a 12 hours bus ride...on his way to visit his natal land...in South China. Li muses that "everybody returns here due to advanced age":... who can escape nostalgia?
He watches the people: they hug tightly, they have their own vocabulary, quite different from the Northern people (these are rustic).
...
Here, while reading,we get introduced to a new style of narration: an omnipresent narrator addresses Li constantly telling him things, like: "you, yourself, don't know why you came here".
On the train Li heard that there was a place called Lingshaw: Soul Mountain.How can you get there?
Li took a bus to little Wuyi village; old books speak about Lingshaw; like Classic of the Seas and the Mountains; they say that the Buddha awakened there the venerable Mahakayapa.
Li's trip is a voyage to return to Nature, to have an authentic life; he should have abandoned pollution a long time ago. He had been diagnosed lung cancer.
(by painter Gong Xian; 1660-1700)
On his trip he recalls old traditions that the Cultural Revolution prohibited; like the dance around the fire till dawn; the old songs and lyrics were replaced by Mao's quotes! Li says that some of his country men declared to be of QIANG ethnicity to be allowed to have more children, hence escaping birth control policies. Li comments: "I came here to study the popular chants". The Qiang ("race") live between the high Tibetan plateau and the Sichuan basin...and they adore the fire.
Li wanted to escape the literary world and the "smoke" of his room.
It's Springtime and Li says "I let my spirit wander"; he's back to a place of childhood and youth.
In Wuyi he meets a woman, who was staring at the mountains; but then she disappeared. Li watches a young couple laughing,joyfully. The Omnipresent narrator´s voice tells him: "you've passed that age, you don't feel the same joy as they do".
The woman wasn't as happy as the couple,... she doesn't look like them.Li feels the need to communicate...when he sees the woman buying grapefruit. But she doesn't answer.
The Voice is back on Li:"you don't know how to love, you lost your virility, so weak you are".
Li recalls mountains´ walk.It's cold in the mountains, despite being springtime. Li spent two nights at the Panda's Observation field.
Li tells the story of the Dragon Feast; and the tragedy stories (suicides) of the Passage of Yu, a village mentioned in the Historical Memories of Sima Quan (145-86 B.C.).
Forests. The Chinese writer loves nature and describes the one-million years old Beeches; 40-meters tall.
Li explains the concept of Kalpa: the succession of existences and rebirths of man, in Buddhist religion; and the parallels between Kalpa and the Bambu tree 60-years cycle.
(by painter Hsü Wei; 1529-1593)
The guide tells Li that once there were tigers,but now: no more tigers in South China. "Nature doesn't scare you, but man does", concludes Li.
Li is worried; is there (still) a primitive forest, yet untouched by man?; yes, at point 11M12M. Li knows about the Blue Bird, that seeks food for Mother Queen of the West. It's in Tang's poetry.
Remembered: the pollution of river Minjiang; not to speak of the Yangzi's; the Three Gorges will destroy the equilibrium of the Yangzi Basin.
And then there are references to the metallic black of the Tsugas trees; firs trees of dark grey....and the rare white azalea. The cuckoo singing like "Big Brother wait for me".
Li is "breathless...in a state of serenity never known before". But Li will say "Nature fooled me... a man with no beliefs, who's afraid of nothing and thinks he's important". Li is lost in the forest. "I yell... fog falls upon me...";and all Li has got is "seven candies" in his pocket. For all his life he's been expecting a miracle.
Li is back on the dialogues with the "different" woman. She told him: she wanted to die. "It should be good to die in purity".Nobody can recognize her, nobody knows her name; those names she gave at the hotel were false. She tells her story to Li. She met a man, loved him...but vomited,despite not being pregnant; they had plans, but no kids included.And then, hysterically, she insulted him, due to her grief...and love ended. She worked in a hospital,but hated work and family, even her father: a drunken man, a weak man, subjugated by her stepmother.
Li asks hurt-woman if she wants to cross the river, to the other side: there, it's Lingshaw-the Soul Mountain.A place where you can see marvels, that will help you forgetting...and get liberation. Li says she's truly cunning. She says she's not stupid.
(by painter Hua Yen; 1682 – 1756)
Li speaks about himself; about the time when lung cancer was diagnosed; had he experienced repentance?... he went through a period of time remembering "his own errors": was he ungrateful to others, or the other way around?. At that time a friend told him about respiratory practices (Qi Qong)that could help him. Li started walking in parks, where people took cages with birds for a stroll.The city was polluted. Also, Li started reading the Book of Mutations, the YiJing and its hexagrams. His friend had studied genetic engineering; he thought "life is admirable-a chance phenomenon". Li acknowledges his mother really loved him but she passed away. And he really hated his wife, whom he separated from. Li thought life was an inextricable knot...of rage?
What?? the "fibroscopy" revealed there was nothing!! May the Buddha be praised! He had promised if he had another chance he would change course in his life. And miracle happened. Li the one who thought about young people praying: what a foolishness!!! Li the one who felt pity for those praying. Now: he felt he was reciting the name of the Buddha Amithaba, with "all his heart", before receiving the "fibroscopy" result. Man is nothing in the face of adversities.
One day Li consults a psychic woman; she's having convulsions and tells about his destiny; "you are surrounded by great difficulties and the little men";Li knows them: "the Sanshi...the little men living in the body of men, hiding in the throat, feeding on saliva". The psychic woman tells him too: you've found the white tiger. Li knows what that means.
The Great Emperor Tang was a Li too; Li is the descendant of a family of generals and ministers, not only of tomb robbers.Li ancestors are recalled.
The psychic woman had told Li: "I think you won't get pardon...there's an evil man who wants to punish you...you'll hardly escape".Nine white tigers.
The story goes on.What will Li find in Soul Mountain? Will he ever get pardoned?... or find liberation?
Time to ascribe 4 and a half stars to Gao's. He plainly deserves them.
(by painter Zheng Banqiao;1693-1765)
Post Scriptum
"I recall when I was a child the Yangtzi water was pure in all seasons".
Gao Xingjian
(Chongqing city,south-west of China,in The Economist,Feb 4th 2012)
(air pollution,...2013 Beijing)
*
(China's cancer villages -- areas with cancer patients significantly above the national average -- mapped out by various researchers and produced by environmentalist Deng Fei in 2009).
July 10, 2022
Средовечном писцу у болници је постављена дијагноза рака плућа, али након сазнања да је та дијагноза ипак грешка и да је у потпуности здрав, он се одлучује на путовање у дубоку унутрашњост Кине - провинциjу Сечуан, да би путујући кроз природу и у потрази за Планином Душе, пробао да редефинише свој живот и његов смисао.
Два су тока приче која се алтернантно смењују кроз поглавља. У једном је главни јунак „ја“ и то је „реалнији“ слој где се описује путовање кроз провинцију Сечуан (али и даље врло поетски), док је у другом току главни јунак „ти“ и тај део је испуњен сновима, односом са непознатом девојком, традиционалним причама, завичајним легендама и бајкама. Како поглавља одмичу, постаје јасно да су и „ја“ и „ти“, заправо писац сам и да је овде доста аутобиографског. Успут ће поткачити и Културну револуцију и саму политику кинеске државе (писац је дисидент и живи у Француској).
Иако волим књиге „без радње“, које овде нема много и акценат је на природи и филозофским разматрањима, за нијансу ми је било предугачко и како се приближава крају све ониричније и бајковитије, што је утицало на пад утиска.
Два су тока приче која се алтернантно смењују кроз поглавља. У једном је главни јунак „ја“ и то је „реалнији“ слој где се описује путовање кроз провинцију Сечуан (али и даље врло поетски), док је у другом току главни јунак „ти“ и тај део је испуњен сновима, односом са непознатом девојком, традиционалним причама, завичајним легендама и бајкама. Како поглавља одмичу, постаје јасно да су и „ја“ и „ти“, заправо писац сам и да је овде доста аутобиографског. Успут ће поткачити и Културну револуцију и саму политику кинеске државе (писац је дисидент и живи у Француској).
Иако волим књиге „без радње“, које овде нема много и акценат је на природи и филозофским разматрањима, за нијансу ми је било предугачко и како се приближава крају све ониричније и бајковитије, што је утицало на пад утиска.
July 12, 2022
I needed this. More unrestrained than Kawabata. Less brutal than Mo Yan. The voice is folkloric, the storytelling all over the place but always entertaining. With beautiful language, Gao depicts a China in transition, whose government and people are full of contradictions, but also resonant with long-standing traditions, suffused with the aura of millennia. It oozes history without secreting it. Deserving of the Nobel prize in the same sense that Mo Yan is, Gao gives us something unique, a hodgepodge novel that immerses the reader in the sensual and political climate of an era of China, and yet feels universal, important, profound. It does not force complex plots and characters through arcs and sinusoidal developments, it simply weaves a fabric of fictive reality. Xingjian's brush is delicate, yet forceful. A fully realized mingling of experimental and traditional forms. As another reviewer said, Pynchon for the Chinese reader. I will probably obtain and read his other translated works.
April 29, 2023
The Dogs Barking, The Sun Shining, The Love Of Woman
Here is a story I find helpful in illustrating this complex, insightful book. It is taken from Rickard and Thuan's book, titled "The Quantum and the Lotus"(p232)
A 19th Century Tibetan hermit named Patrul had a disciple named Lungtok. Lngtok was having difficulty learning to meditate. One evening while they were outside the monastery overlooking the mountains, Patrul caqlled Lungtok to him and said "Didn't you tell me you don't understand the nature of the mind?" "Yes", Lungtok replied.Patrul asked Lungtok to lie next to him and asked "Can you hear the monastery dogs barking"? "Yes" "Can you see the stars shining?" "Yes", "Well" said Patrul, "that's meditation." Shortly after receiving this lesson Luntok received understanding and enlightenment.
This novel, "Soul Mountain", is the story of a spiritual quest. After the narrator learns that he had been wrongly diagnosed with lung cancer, and following prosecution by the Chinese communist authorities as a "rightist", the narrator leaves Peking -- destination and purpose obscure. He decides to try to find an obscure mountain called Lingshan or soul mountain. In the process of his lengthy journey, he travels through remote areas of China where he meets a variety of people, hears Chinese folk, songs, sees archaeological sites, learns about Chinese animals and searches. The search motive is common in religion and literature. The goal is not set out at the beginning but the narrator seeks to come to a degree of self-understanding and to remove sorrow through reflection and the loosening of attachments.
In the process of his lonely journey the narrator develops personnae, or alter egos. He begins to refer to himself at times as "he" and then there is a young woman lover, a "she". This does not make for clear, easy reading, but it is an appropriate technique for a book which tries to teach about the self.
The narrator does not claim to be religious. Nevertheless, the book for me has a strong Buddhist background. Gao has obviously thought deeply about and been influenced by Buddhism. This influence pervades the book and its reflections. It is most pronounced, however, in the visits to the Buddhist and Daoist monasteries of the narrator and in his discussions with Buddhist and Daoist monks and nuns.
For all the virtues of the search the narrator finds he needs companionship and human society. In particular he needs the society of women and he craves sexual relationships. We hear of many of the narrator's sexual relationships along his way together with his reflections on "he" and "she". This is a book that talks eloquently of the force of human erotic passion and of the centrality of that passion to the relationship between men and women. The Buddha would understand. In a famous text he observes:
"Monks, I don't know of even one other form that stays in a man's mind and consumes it like the form of a woman... The touch of a woman stays in a man's mind and consumes it. Monks, I don't know of even one other form that stays in a woman's mind and consumes it like the form of a man. ... The touch of a man stays in a woman's mind and consumes it."
Our narrator finds he cannot abandon his sexuality and opts for human society over the life of a recluse. This decision does not to me indicate a rejection of spiritual (or Buddhist) values but rather a placement of them in the context of ongoing human reality. Also the narrator's decision to live without meaning seems to me to indicate an agreement with Buddhist teachings of dispassion, selflessness and non-attachment. It is, in the words of Meister Eckhart which many find parallel to Buddhist teachings, "Living without a Why." There is some acceptance of the spiritual values of the Buddhist recluse brought to bear upon living in the everyday. This, I think, is a teaching the book shares with the Tibetan story with which this review begins.
Many people in the West who for whatever reason find themselves unable to accept western theistic religions have explored Buddhism and other eastern religions for whatever guidance they may provide in living a spiritual life outside the boundaries of a traditional Western faith. In his books, the Dalai Lama, for example, speaks of a "secular spirituality" which uses insights of self-reflection, compassion, and self-knowledge as a means which may be open to many people independently of their religious belief or lack of religious belief. I think "Soul Mountain" is a book with many of the same themes. People who have thought about spirituality and who are not afraid to experiment with the unfamiliar will feel at home with this difficult but highly worthwhile book.
Robin Friedman
Here is a story I find helpful in illustrating this complex, insightful book. It is taken from Rickard and Thuan's book, titled "The Quantum and the Lotus"(p232)
A 19th Century Tibetan hermit named Patrul had a disciple named Lungtok. Lngtok was having difficulty learning to meditate. One evening while they were outside the monastery overlooking the mountains, Patrul caqlled Lungtok to him and said "Didn't you tell me you don't understand the nature of the mind?" "Yes", Lungtok replied.Patrul asked Lungtok to lie next to him and asked "Can you hear the monastery dogs barking"? "Yes" "Can you see the stars shining?" "Yes", "Well" said Patrul, "that's meditation." Shortly after receiving this lesson Luntok received understanding and enlightenment.
This novel, "Soul Mountain", is the story of a spiritual quest. After the narrator learns that he had been wrongly diagnosed with lung cancer, and following prosecution by the Chinese communist authorities as a "rightist", the narrator leaves Peking -- destination and purpose obscure. He decides to try to find an obscure mountain called Lingshan or soul mountain. In the process of his lengthy journey, he travels through remote areas of China where he meets a variety of people, hears Chinese folk, songs, sees archaeological sites, learns about Chinese animals and searches. The search motive is common in religion and literature. The goal is not set out at the beginning but the narrator seeks to come to a degree of self-understanding and to remove sorrow through reflection and the loosening of attachments.
In the process of his lonely journey the narrator develops personnae, or alter egos. He begins to refer to himself at times as "he" and then there is a young woman lover, a "she". This does not make for clear, easy reading, but it is an appropriate technique for a book which tries to teach about the self.
The narrator does not claim to be religious. Nevertheless, the book for me has a strong Buddhist background. Gao has obviously thought deeply about and been influenced by Buddhism. This influence pervades the book and its reflections. It is most pronounced, however, in the visits to the Buddhist and Daoist monasteries of the narrator and in his discussions with Buddhist and Daoist monks and nuns.
For all the virtues of the search the narrator finds he needs companionship and human society. In particular he needs the society of women and he craves sexual relationships. We hear of many of the narrator's sexual relationships along his way together with his reflections on "he" and "she". This is a book that talks eloquently of the force of human erotic passion and of the centrality of that passion to the relationship between men and women. The Buddha would understand. In a famous text he observes:
"Monks, I don't know of even one other form that stays in a man's mind and consumes it like the form of a woman... The touch of a woman stays in a man's mind and consumes it. Monks, I don't know of even one other form that stays in a woman's mind and consumes it like the form of a man. ... The touch of a man stays in a woman's mind and consumes it."
Our narrator finds he cannot abandon his sexuality and opts for human society over the life of a recluse. This decision does not to me indicate a rejection of spiritual (or Buddhist) values but rather a placement of them in the context of ongoing human reality. Also the narrator's decision to live without meaning seems to me to indicate an agreement with Buddhist teachings of dispassion, selflessness and non-attachment. It is, in the words of Meister Eckhart which many find parallel to Buddhist teachings, "Living without a Why." There is some acceptance of the spiritual values of the Buddhist recluse brought to bear upon living in the everyday. This, I think, is a teaching the book shares with the Tibetan story with which this review begins.
Many people in the West who for whatever reason find themselves unable to accept western theistic religions have explored Buddhism and other eastern religions for whatever guidance they may provide in living a spiritual life outside the boundaries of a traditional Western faith. In his books, the Dalai Lama, for example, speaks of a "secular spirituality" which uses insights of self-reflection, compassion, and self-knowledge as a means which may be open to many people independently of their religious belief or lack of religious belief. I think "Soul Mountain" is a book with many of the same themes. People who have thought about spirituality and who are not afraid to experiment with the unfamiliar will feel at home with this difficult but highly worthwhile book.
Robin Friedman
June 18, 2017
This book is admittedly a bit challenging—its structure is unconventional, folk tales mingle with personal history, and it isn't bound so much by a plot as by a pervading spirit of search. But what a beautiful search it is. In seeking out a mountain that may or may not exist, Xingjian takes the reader on a journey of self-discovery that isn't marked so much by what it reveals, as by what remains hidden and perfectly unknown. The last page is perhaps my favorite in literature—a perfect silence, enshrouded in snow, in which the divine can appear everywhere and in everything . . . even as something as seemingly unimportant as a frog. Really a lovely book, but not an easy one.
September 7, 2015
I’d like to start with a view that dissents with those of some other reviewers, who (in praise, often) claim that this book works outside the rules of fiction, or is unlike all other books, or isn’t even a novel. Of course it is a novel, and a hyperliterary one at that–and it operates within structures of fictional form that are common (even commonplace) in the twentieth century, not to mention in earlier works that share some of its more astonishing features (such as Don Quixote). And Gao got a degree in French literature and appears to have been well acquainted with modernism. So there’s that, to start.
I am not a huge, huge reader of nonlinear and/or nontraditional narrative myself, but the events surrounding this book’s composition in the wake of the Cultural Revolution gave it a fresh interest for me. So to place this book within a literary context is hardly to denigrate it or to take away from what makes it wonderful (on the contrary, I think that that enriches it). Also, if you don’t know where Guizhou or Anhui are, look at a map. I promise that being able to follow the narrator’s travels will increase your reading pleasure.
Additional thoughts here:
http://alisonkinney.com/category/gao-...
Thanks!
I am not a huge, huge reader of nonlinear and/or nontraditional narrative myself, but the events surrounding this book’s composition in the wake of the Cultural Revolution gave it a fresh interest for me. So to place this book within a literary context is hardly to denigrate it or to take away from what makes it wonderful (on the contrary, I think that that enriches it). Also, if you don’t know where Guizhou or Anhui are, look at a map. I promise that being able to follow the narrator’s travels will increase your reading pleasure.
Additional thoughts here:
http://alisonkinney.com/category/gao-...
Thanks!
March 1, 2018
يتعمق الكاتب كثيراً في الذات الإنسانية، وفي تشابه الأمكنة والأزمنة التي تحكي الروايات المتشابهة للحاضر والمستقبل، حيوات كثيرة تمر على القاريء من شأنها أن تتكرر وتتطور، وفي كل مرة يعاد البحث عن الذات في تفاصيل كلاسيكية، واقعية، خيالية أوحتى سريالية، قراءات متعددة، صور تمزج بين التاريخ والأسطورة، تكرار الحدث الزمني، والتشابه غير المرئي بين الفصول، يترك غاو شينجيان القاريء مع نفسه يتحسسان التحولات بين الفصول الشبيهة بالمشاهد المسرحية أو اللوحات المختلفة، والمتنوعة بتنوع لوحات الفن التشكيلي
نعم.... الرواية سميكة وعميقة وذات دلالات كبيرة، لكنها تحتاج منك صبراً وانتظاراً
نعم.... الرواية سميكة وعميقة وذات دلالات كبيرة، لكنها تحتاج منك صبراً وانتظاراً
January 8, 2014
1. I read it in Chinese and sort of understand where is Gao coming from. After had suffered personally the catastrophes of ten years Cultural Revolution and witnessed the destruction of traditional values, especially the metaphysical dimension of the Chinese culture under the Communist Regime, Gao wishes to paint again or recapture the original beauty of the tradition, which is inseparable from the mystical and even whimsical layers of the reality perceived by the local people who possess rather a less sophisticated mindset and sentiment before the intrusion of the ideological materialism of the government.
2. Hence, it would be difficult to appreciate the book without acknowledging the author's attempt to reconstruct the notion of transcendence in his spiritual journey. Notice the transcendence in the book is unlike the platonic or medieval nonphysical realm as a Western would have understood; neither is a purely fictional and magical thing that has no basis in human existence. As a Chinese myself, if I understand Gao correctly, the notion of the transcendence is much like this a mixture of Taoism and Buddhism with the primitive experiences of the local people in relation to the world, the supernatural phenomena and legends in particular, a mixture that has not been largely emasculated and contaminated by the ugliness, monotony, and boredom of a naturalistic mentality, which according to the character himself, is utter unlivable and destructive to human spirit.
3. Then, what is exactly the definition of this mixed notion of transcendence or "soul mountain" he searches for? Even throughout the book, there is no explicit answer given because there is none. Any effort or attempt to access or describe "the mystery of being" is determined to fail, since transcendence, by essence, is uncontrollable and ineffable. Furthermore, it is precisely because human beings are intrinsically oriented toward such mystery, we are forever under the unquenchable longing for being in unity with it, we are forever on the journey of climbing the mountain that may redeem the soul.
5. In other words, the main character of the story does not know what is exactly he is seeking but he knows he is seeking something that goes beyond him simultaneously and irrepressibly resides within his most inner being. It is precisely because the things he is seeking are beyond him, his seeking becomes both possible and meaningful. In other words, if they are to be found like whatever can be identified, manufactured, and manipulated, as what materialism and political power of the Communist government have done with the nation, then he would not have begun his seeking for meaning in the first place. As it has been said, this does not mean he is seeking something that does not exist. In fact, the things he seeks exist precisely in the process of seeking and cannot be captivated and hence ceased in the process. Consequently, seeking can go on and perpetually strikes and surprise him and us.
4. This is why in his attempts to restore the notion of transcendence in the novel, he spends huge portions to rediscover the lost and oblivious legends and mysteries of the native cultures in the southeast of China after the Cultural Revolution, and these stories and fables (some of them are fascinating and some of them are dreadful), kept in the memories of old generations, open up a world that is ultimately immune to any cognitive and sentimental categories that are meant to eradicate mysteries and wonders of the world....
5. For Gao, at least from my reading of the novel, history is not objective knowledge based on evidence and documents, but it is a collective living memory of a group of people. In a sense, this collecting living memory is much real and richer than than the former because people often tend remember things much intriguing and enchanting, alluring their imagination, and inspiring the will for adventure.....we are not beings live on material necessities, we are dreamers, thinkers, and hopers.......the world is not composed of matter, but orchestrated by mysteries and for mysteries.....
2. Hence, it would be difficult to appreciate the book without acknowledging the author's attempt to reconstruct the notion of transcendence in his spiritual journey. Notice the transcendence in the book is unlike the platonic or medieval nonphysical realm as a Western would have understood; neither is a purely fictional and magical thing that has no basis in human existence. As a Chinese myself, if I understand Gao correctly, the notion of the transcendence is much like this a mixture of Taoism and Buddhism with the primitive experiences of the local people in relation to the world, the supernatural phenomena and legends in particular, a mixture that has not been largely emasculated and contaminated by the ugliness, monotony, and boredom of a naturalistic mentality, which according to the character himself, is utter unlivable and destructive to human spirit.
3. Then, what is exactly the definition of this mixed notion of transcendence or "soul mountain" he searches for? Even throughout the book, there is no explicit answer given because there is none. Any effort or attempt to access or describe "the mystery of being" is determined to fail, since transcendence, by essence, is uncontrollable and ineffable. Furthermore, it is precisely because human beings are intrinsically oriented toward such mystery, we are forever under the unquenchable longing for being in unity with it, we are forever on the journey of climbing the mountain that may redeem the soul.
5. In other words, the main character of the story does not know what is exactly he is seeking but he knows he is seeking something that goes beyond him simultaneously and irrepressibly resides within his most inner being. It is precisely because the things he is seeking are beyond him, his seeking becomes both possible and meaningful. In other words, if they are to be found like whatever can be identified, manufactured, and manipulated, as what materialism and political power of the Communist government have done with the nation, then he would not have begun his seeking for meaning in the first place. As it has been said, this does not mean he is seeking something that does not exist. In fact, the things he seeks exist precisely in the process of seeking and cannot be captivated and hence ceased in the process. Consequently, seeking can go on and perpetually strikes and surprise him and us.
4. This is why in his attempts to restore the notion of transcendence in the novel, he spends huge portions to rediscover the lost and oblivious legends and mysteries of the native cultures in the southeast of China after the Cultural Revolution, and these stories and fables (some of them are fascinating and some of them are dreadful), kept in the memories of old generations, open up a world that is ultimately immune to any cognitive and sentimental categories that are meant to eradicate mysteries and wonders of the world....
5. For Gao, at least from my reading of the novel, history is not objective knowledge based on evidence and documents, but it is a collective living memory of a group of people. In a sense, this collecting living memory is much real and richer than than the former because people often tend remember things much intriguing and enchanting, alluring their imagination, and inspiring the will for adventure.....we are not beings live on material necessities, we are dreamers, thinkers, and hopers.......the world is not composed of matter, but orchestrated by mysteries and for mysteries.....
March 21, 2008
I feel decidedly guilty and 'unliterary' giving a negative review of this book, but it just was not for me. It's a meditation on identity, and his writing is certainly innovative and probably the best way to explore the subject, but it made the book a long slog for me. The fact that someone talks about a woman being raped nearly every chapter (of which there are 80) was also something that made this read a difficult one for me. Glad I read it, glad it's over.
July 15, 2025
বুঝলাম না.. অনুবাদকের নামের জায়গায় 'প্রমিত হোসেন' কেন? 'গুগল ট্রান্সলেট' হওয়া উচিত ছিল। এতটুকু কৃতজ্ঞ কি হওয়া যেত না? এত জঘন্য লেভেলের অনুবাদ-কর্ম কীভাবে সম্ভব হয় কে জানে। মূল বই হয়তো সুন্দর, কিন্তু অনুবাদ পড়তে (নেহাত ধৈর্য ছিল বলে ৮৮ পৃষ্ঠা পর্যন্ত সহ্য করেছি) গিয়ে তো এরচেয়ে বেশি রেটিং দেওয়া সম্ভব হচ্ছে না। তাই ১ তারা দেখে কেউ ভাববেন না গল্পের জন্য দিয়েছি।
জীবনে আর কোনো বই এরকম এতদূর গিয়ে ফেলে রাখতে ইচ্ছে হয়নি। দিনদিন ধৈর্য কমে যাচ্ছে...😒
জীবনে আর কোনো বই এরকম এতদূর গিয়ে ফেলে রাখতে ইচ্ছে হয়নি। দিনদিন ধৈর্য কমে যাচ্ছে...😒
January 10, 2009
This book won a Nobel for liturature but, I have to admit it was a strugle for me to get through. It is over 500 pages and I have NEVER been so glad to be done with a book.
The author frequently refers to China's many Dynastys and The Culturol Revolution ( a very sad time for the people of China and their culture. ) Perhaps if I was more familiar with the history of China and the culture I may have enjoyed the book.Perhaps something was lost in translation ? Much of it was very metaphysical, phylosophical and at times digresed into uninteligable nonesense. There is no continuous story line and what little story there is seems to be scattered through the book in no aparent order of sequence. Maybe I'm an idiot ( and that is quit possible ) the book made absolutly no sense. If you even think about reading it I would sugest that you read chapter 74, a short little chapter. If you like that chapter and it makes sense to you, by all means read the book.
That being said there were some chapters that were enjoyable and very beautifuly written.
The author frequently refers to China's many Dynastys and The Culturol Revolution ( a very sad time for the people of China and their culture. ) Perhaps if I was more familiar with the history of China and the culture I may have enjoyed the book.Perhaps something was lost in translation ? Much of it was very metaphysical, phylosophical and at times digresed into uninteligable nonesense. There is no continuous story line and what little story there is seems to be scattered through the book in no aparent order of sequence. Maybe I'm an idiot ( and that is quit possible ) the book made absolutly no sense. If you even think about reading it I would sugest that you read chapter 74, a short little chapter. If you like that chapter and it makes sense to you, by all means read the book.
That being said there were some chapters that were enjoyable and very beautifuly written.
April 13, 2019
"Fingir compreender, mas, de facto, não compreender nada.
Na realidade, não compreendo nada, estritamente nada.
É assim."
— Gao Xingjian, A Montanha da Alma
"A Montanha da Alma constitui uma obra única na paisagem literária contemporânea. Simultaneamente viagem interior (...) conto clássico picaresco e maravilhoso, evocação da realidade absurda ou kafkiana, reflexão sobre a arte romanesca (...)
Esta Montanha da Alma, certificada pelos escritos mitológicos chineses, será a demanda da beleza, o conhecimento absoluto, uma confissão autobiográfica, ou o romance impossível já que fora das normas tanto no Oriente como no Ocidente?"
(do Prefácio)
Para que se possa apreciar plenamente a sua beleza, esta é uma obra para ler com o "relógio parado" e sem outros livros por perto. Não o li assim...
_____________
Prémio Nobel da Literatura 2000
Gao Xingjian nasceu na China (Ganzhou) em 4 de Janeiro de 1940. É pintor, romancista, dramaturgo, crítico literário e tradutor. Naturalizou-se francês em 1997.
Na realidade, não compreendo nada, estritamente nada.
É assim."
— Gao Xingjian, A Montanha da Alma
"A Montanha da Alma constitui uma obra única na paisagem literária contemporânea. Simultaneamente viagem interior (...) conto clássico picaresco e maravilhoso, evocação da realidade absurda ou kafkiana, reflexão sobre a arte romanesca (...)
Esta Montanha da Alma, certificada pelos escritos mitológicos chineses, será a demanda da beleza, o conhecimento absoluto, uma confissão autobiográfica, ou o romance impossível já que fora das normas tanto no Oriente como no Ocidente?"
(do Prefácio)
Para que se possa apreciar plenamente a sua beleza, esta é uma obra para ler com o "relógio parado" e sem outros livros por perto. Não o li assim...
_____________
Prémio Nobel da Literatura 2000
Gao Xingjian nasceu na China (Ganzhou) em 4 de Janeiro de 1940. É pintor, romancista, dramaturgo, crítico literário e tradutor. Naturalizou-se francês em 1997.
December 19, 2023
كتاب عظيم، رحلة بدأت بالبحث عن جبل، تحولت إلى رحلة بحث عن الذات.
"أسأل الرجل الذى صادفته فى حلم الرجل الآخر:
إن سلكت إسفلت هذه الطريق، هل أصل؟
يقول: إلى أين؟
أقول: لا أدرى، ولكن هل أصل؟
يقول: لم أدر من قبل أنّ طريقًا قد تفضى إلى هناك؟
ويقول:ربما قلبكَ هو الطريق".
| بسام حجار
"أسأل الرجل الذى صادفته فى حلم الرجل الآخر:
إن سلكت إسفلت هذه الطريق، هل أصل؟
يقول: إلى أين؟
أقول: لا أدرى، ولكن هل أصل؟
يقول: لم أدر من قبل أنّ طريقًا قد تفضى إلى هناك؟
ويقول:ربما قلبكَ هو الطريق".
| بسام حجار
March 28, 2013
What is it with mountains? Be they Bare, Magic or Soulful like this, they exert a pull on the soul and they move men to poetry.
Equating height with Homeric majesty, Keats stood his Cortez silent upon a peak in Darien, to tug his conquistador’s soul towards some higher sublimity. Where Christianity has the abode of God and attendant angels reposing in the celestial crenelations of cumulonimbus and nimbostratus, Homer – grounded realist that he was, had his on semi-earthly Olympus. Not for nothing did his extra-human actors sit high above the world of Man, the height of the place affording, like stout Cortez, the luxury of conspectus, a panorama of the world spread below to be taken in by a glance. High up yet grounded. Removed from the earth, but not so far away as to divorce them from meddling for pleasure in our petty concerns.
Primus inter pares of the megalithic are surely Uluru in Australia and "Everest". What draws us to these titanic structures? In a world where some (such as, fictionally, Pynchon) believe in ley lines, where crystals and "energy"* (non dark) are invoked, and where, not least of all in Chinese medicine - as Chi – energy is suggested to explain internal workings, responses to medicines (western or not) and even more prosaically, how best to arrange one's living spaces, might a mountain not affect us viscerally? If not though some repository of chi, then at least through an encounter with the sublime?
In his Zarathustra’s “upgoing”, his ascent to enlightenment, Nietzsche’s had this more sublime anabasis in mind. So too, Moses, receiving the word of God atop his mountain Sinai. Frodo goes into Doom to drop the Ring and Abraham ascends Moriah to slay his only Son. The Summerians loved mountains, and their Ziggurats are like man-made attempts at mountain-making. (By contrast, the Pyramid of Cheops, 500 years younger than Ur, thrusts a sharp deliverance into the eternal, and by orientation and construction, addresses the stars.)
What is it then, that links height with enlightenment? Which figures spiritual movement with ascent towards empyrean? If Orpheus found only grief in the chthonic, so too Persephone and all the suffering Greeks (we recall that Sisyphus was tasked to roll a rock up a mountain in the underworld forever…) it makes sense then, that on the flanks or summit of a mountain, the climber is laid bare physically and emotionally and spiritually. Not for nothing were the Greeks moved to cry άλαττα! θάλαττα! (thalatta, thalatta – the sea, the sea) , and not όρος (oros) (mountain). A mountain is a dead thing, and the sea was life. We can stand atop a mountain but not conquer the limitless sea.
Too, some theorists suggest that the preponderance of mountain backgrounds (a picture with river running through it, a path to the distance, grassland) excites our primordial response for settling, for home.
All these are traditional responses and ideas. Gao skirts at the edges of them, frustrating our expectations. No upgoing for him: Gao is very much an Alpinist, given to excursions up easy narrative peaks. Only once does he try a harder ascent, trying to walk up a mountain that others advise him to not even try, and needless to say, he is beaten back. It begins to emerge that, like Mann and Nietzsche (those poets of the Tyrol) his encounter is with the mountain as prompt, existential anchor. Soul Mountain, Lingshan exists, and is not, Hilary or Mallory-like, (or Tenzing-like) to be conquered so much as sought, moved towards, contemplated. A waypoint geographic and physical.
At one point (a chapter of two pages) he asks an old man which way he should go to find the mountain. The man answers in riddles, and the narrator gets coiled up Laoocon like in the coils of Zen-ish dialectic, the way seems to be the way he has just come from, yet he is “getting further and further away’ (What better description of the fugitive self than this?). In that moment, his existence becomes a koan, a paradox of existenz and the narrator reflects ‘on a proverb dating back thousands of years’ which reminds one of Heraclitus, yet tinged with the common sense of all folk sayings: “existence is returning, non-existence is returning, so don’t stand by the river getting blown about by the cold wind.”
All this makes for interesting reading. Denying us an easy narrative of spiritual encounter with the mountain, Gao instead uses the traditional device of peripatetic narrator to guide us through a journey into China in all its guises. The book is part travelogue, part history, part anthropology and the telling of it is part biography, part fable, part fiction. Structurally the book is novel: chapters alternate with a protagonist “I”, versus chapter using “You” to report through the second person, and it's not until reading a bit that I realise that the You is not accusing me, but is a You formed from an I. Gao’s intent here, to examine the diversified self, to knit it back together in the crucible of experience, of which an encounter with Lingshan, forever postponed, would be the apotheosis.
Thus ‘The Encounter’ is for Gao, the process by which he determines his own existential position, his thoughts emitted like the most tender bremsstrahlung by his collisions not with the infinite, but the quotidian. He meets a naked abandoned toddler and tries to rescue him. He meets many peasants and ecologists, most of whom are hospitable. He meets monks. He meets women. He sleeps with women. The sum total is to suggest the questions “who have I been?” and more pointedly “who am I?” questions we all find ourselves asking at some point, but not to the extent and depth Gao does.
Thus with The Other and Encounter as its narrative vehicle, Soul Mountain the book itself is less an edifice itself, (hard to scale, vast, unforgiving – the 500 pages suggesting a tiring read) than a lacquerware cabinet of curios: each chapter captures the attention. People search for Wild Men, feral beings, they hunt tigers to extinction, deforest entire areas within 10 years, and discuss the then nascent idea of the Three Gorges Dam. Gao seeks the dying embers of tradition, seeks out monks, folk song singers, finds shelter in peasant beds and knows it is all in the pursuit of progress.
So to do the characters speak of evil bandits, dragons, giant salamanders. In Soul Mountain, the lines of truth and fiction, even in a medium as fabulistic as the novel, as always blurred. As a consequence it is a fun read. I read it quickly in my edition because of this, because line spacing was wide and chapters short and because the narrative voice is compelling, strong and intimate. I really enjoyed reading this.
Yes, there is eroticism - or attempts at - but not for titillation. The intent is to counterpoise the ruminations on the historical and mythic, to root (forgive the pun) the book in the quotidian, where sexual energy and lust is carnal but not graphic, where coitus is matter of fact (tinged, granted, with the poetic) but never gratuitous. In the cosmic or novelistic pan of scales, Gao balances this narration of the normative, with the mythos of the past, the distant and unattainable. It is this past that is one mountain, one of the many peaks available to human scrutiny, but not conquering. We cannot go high enough to rise above it, to see all. The rise of history forms a great chain of other peaks into our past: the horizon wreathed in clouds of forgetting. And, more importantly, as Gao makes us see, it is the mountain of the soul, the enduring, perduring self, that will forever deny conquering – not that it will stop us from trying to scale it....
IN FIVE WORDS:
Wandering self meets unscaleable soul. (not my best attempt!)
* Mountains exert not just a spirtiual pull on people but a gravitational one: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schiehal...
with about equivalent force of the stroke of a single gnat's wing towards themselves. The reader of Pynchon’s Mason and Dixon will be familiar with this special rock. Might some be more sentisive to this than others, accounting for the sale of crystals, for the adventures of trekkers?
September 6, 2018
الكاتب كتب الرواية خلال 7 سنين, وهو برا الصين وكان بيحاول يتخلص من شعور الوحدة, والعزلة, ويحمل الصين معه, ولما خلص قال إنه مش هيحس بالحنين تاني, لإنه كتب الصين وحملها معاه, الرواية ترجمها الكاتب وأشرف أنها تترجم كويس, وأترفضت من جالمار بسبب حجمها الضخم, فنشرها في دار صغيرة في فرنسا ولاقت نجاح كبير, وقبلها كان فيه أعماله كتير ليه.
الكاتب لا يعني بالسياسة, لكنه أسس أعظم عمل سردي ممكن يمر عليك, الكاتب مكتبش ولا اسم, خلا أنت هي مرآة ال أنا, وهم نابعة من أنا, ومفيش نحن. تارة يتكلم بأنا, وتارة يوجه كلامه ل أنت. الكاتب بيعمل حيل في حكي القصص, والرواية مليانة حكايات بالهبل, ففي سعيه نحو الجبل بيحكي, ويقابل ناس ويحكوا له, وهكذا, غير الرحلة نفسها.
بنعرف في الرحلة كل معالم الصين, وتاريخ الصين, والدين, والأسكطورة, والفلسفة الصنينية من كتاب التحولات حتى الطاو, حتى فلسفة الكاتب, بنشوف الروح, الحب, الموت, الأكتئاب, البحث عن معنى, البحث عن الإنسان وهوتيه, والسعي نحو الأنا. الكتاب أعظم عمل أتكلم عن الأنا, والسعي. الرواية ساحرة, يكفي أنه وهو بيوصف أنه راكب الباص أ،ت منبهر وبتبلع الكلام, الكاتب بيدمج الطبيعة والنفس والحواس في وصفه لأي شيء, وهو بيخلق جمل تعبيرية عبقرية للغاية تملس النفس, وبيلعب تشويق, يعني في الأول يوهمك أنه فقد واحدة, بعدين تلاقيها بعدين تفقد, ونستمر في لعب تشويق روحية جميلة. الروياة نفسية شديدة, وروحية, وتحمل كل حاجة عن الإنسان, ونهايتها عبقرية, والمشاهد التصويرية مذهلة, والأفضل تتقري على فترة طويلة, علشان يبقى فيه مساحة للتفكير في بناء شخصيات غريب جدًا, وبناء حياة, ورحلة لجبل بتحمل الصين والإنسان.
الرواية عن الوحدة , عن الموت والحزن كمان,وعن الماضي, وعن الطفولة والشباب, والتفكير فيهم, الرواية شبه بأدويسة الإنسان.
الكاتب بيقول مش مهم الاسم, ومش مهم تركز مع شخص, فتدخل الحكايات مع الشخصيات الروائية اللي الكاتب بيتكلم ليها واللي بتمثله هو, واللي أنا بتساوي أنت, وهم نابعة من أنا.
الرواية في نمك سردها وعبقرية الكاتب مدهشة, وممتعة وتقيلة نفسيًا كمان, وبتجيب حزن كبيرة وتفكير كتير, وبتتناول الوطن والثقافة وكل منحيات الإنسان علشان نبحث عن معنى ليه, ومن نوعية الروايات اللي هتعلم على كل سطر حرفيًا كأنه يصلح لأقتباس أو بيعبر عن فكرة, وهنا لقيت ادق توصيف لمشاعر بمر بيها كتير ومبعرفش أوصفها غير برغي كتير, هنا دمجها بمشهد للطبيعة بسيط وهو حواليه تلج وبياض, بقمة السهولة والصعوبة والعظمة الفنية, كل وصف للطبيعة أو الأشياء من حوله بيوصف مشاعر وحالات نفسيه وأفكار للكاتب, وده تطوير وأستخدام غريب للغة أول مرة أشوفه الصراحة بالقوة والدقة دي. دي ممكن تكون من أهم قراءات حياتي, اللي لازم أعيدها تاني. بكدا رحلتنا لللجبل هي جبل الروح, ورحلتنا في الللإقامة في الجبل هي الجبل السحري, ورحلة الإنسان بينهم, بني جبلين وعالمين, بين كاتب شرقي, وكاتب غربي, حياة الإنسان, الروايتين ممكن يكملوا خط سير بعض, بشكل مختلف لكن بيصبوا في نفس البحر.
الكاتب لا يعني بالسياسة, لكنه أسس أعظم عمل سردي ممكن يمر عليك, الكاتب مكتبش ولا اسم, خلا أنت هي مرآة ال أنا, وهم نابعة من أنا, ومفيش نحن. تارة يتكلم بأنا, وتارة يوجه كلامه ل أنت. الكاتب بيعمل حيل في حكي القصص, والرواية مليانة حكايات بالهبل, ففي سعيه نحو الجبل بيحكي, ويقابل ناس ويحكوا له, وهكذا, غير الرحلة نفسها.
بنعرف في الرحلة كل معالم الصين, وتاريخ الصين, والدين, والأسكطورة, والفلسفة الصنينية من كتاب التحولات حتى الطاو, حتى فلسفة الكاتب, بنشوف الروح, الحب, الموت, الأكتئاب, البحث عن معنى, البحث عن الإنسان وهوتيه, والسعي نحو الأنا. الكتاب أعظم عمل أتكلم عن الأنا, والسعي. الرواية ساحرة, يكفي أنه وهو بيوصف أنه راكب الباص أ،ت منبهر وبتبلع الكلام, الكاتب بيدمج الطبيعة والنفس والحواس في وصفه لأي شيء, وهو بيخلق جمل تعبيرية عبقرية للغاية تملس النفس, وبيلعب تشويق, يعني في الأول يوهمك أنه فقد واحدة, بعدين تلاقيها بعدين تفقد, ونستمر في لعب تشويق روحية جميلة. الروياة نفسية شديدة, وروحية, وتحمل كل حاجة عن الإنسان, ونهايتها عبقرية, والمشاهد التصويرية مذهلة, والأفضل تتقري على فترة طويلة, علشان يبقى فيه مساحة للتفكير في بناء شخصيات غريب جدًا, وبناء حياة, ورحلة لجبل بتحمل الصين والإنسان.
الرواية عن الوحدة , عن الموت والحزن كمان,وعن الماضي, وعن الطفولة والشباب, والتفكير فيهم, الرواية شبه بأدويسة الإنسان.
الكاتب بيقول مش مهم الاسم, ومش مهم تركز مع شخص, فتدخل الحكايات مع الشخصيات الروائية اللي الكاتب بيتكلم ليها واللي بتمثله هو, واللي أنا بتساوي أنت, وهم نابعة من أنا.
الرواية في نمك سردها وعبقرية الكاتب مدهشة, وممتعة وتقيلة نفسيًا كمان, وبتجيب حزن كبيرة وتفكير كتير, وبتتناول الوطن والثقافة وكل منحيات الإنسان علشان نبحث عن معنى ليه, ومن نوعية الروايات اللي هتعلم على كل سطر حرفيًا كأنه يصلح لأقتباس أو بيعبر عن فكرة, وهنا لقيت ادق توصيف لمشاعر بمر بيها كتير ومبعرفش أوصفها غير برغي كتير, هنا دمجها بمشهد للطبيعة بسيط وهو حواليه تلج وبياض, بقمة السهولة والصعوبة والعظمة الفنية, كل وصف للطبيعة أو الأشياء من حوله بيوصف مشاعر وحالات نفسيه وأفكار للكاتب, وده تطوير وأستخدام غريب للغة أول مرة أشوفه الصراحة بالقوة والدقة دي. دي ممكن تكون من أهم قراءات حياتي, اللي لازم أعيدها تاني. بكدا رحلتنا لللجبل هي جبل الروح, ورحلتنا في الللإقامة في الجبل هي الجبل السحري, ورحلة الإنسان بينهم, بني جبلين وعالمين, بين كاتب شرقي, وكاتب غربي, حياة الإنسان, الروايتين ممكن يكملوا خط سير بعض, بشكل مختلف لكن بيصبوا في نفس البحر.
August 13, 2013
Tôi thú thật rằng mình chả phải là người có kiến thức và giỏi cảm thụ "văn học-văn học". Tôi chỉ hay đọc "truyện" là chính. Tôi không có tí kiến thức nào về các lý thuyết văn chương, chứ đừng nói tới việc định tranh cãi xem thủ pháp nghệ thuật, hình thức tác phẩm của Cao Hành Kiện trong Linh Sơn ra làm sao. Vậy nên xin miễn cho việc bàn về sự "đột phá" (nếu có) của tác phẩm.
Ấy nhưng quái lạ làm sao, đôi khi có những tác phẩm tôi không hiểu được hết nhưng vẫn cứ say mê đọc.
Linh Sơn là một chuyến đi tìm ngọn núi hồn. Như phần giới thiệu tác phẩm có nhắc đến, cuốn sách chẳng có đầu có cuối. Nó tựa như một chuyến du hành vô tận, tìm mãi tìm mãi, thấy đủ thứ, nhưng chẳng thấy hết, và suy cho cùng ngẫm lại thì đã thấy cái gì? Núi, rừng, sông, vực, những bản làng, những câu chuyện lịch sử và thân thoại quái gở và ghê rợn, cái xã hội và con người, đàn ông và đàn bà và tình yêu và tình dục. Nửa mơ nửa tỉnh, nửa sống nửa chết. Đó là một hành trình vào sâu trong thiên nhiên và vào sâu trong vô thức của tâm hồn. Nhưng, như đã nói, cuối cùng ta thấy gì?
Tôi cũng chịu, chả biết. Nhưng cái hút hồn tôi nhất là giọng văn tả. Nó mang một thần lực khiến tôi mụ mị. Tôi mê những chuyến đi, tôi mê cái cách viết về thiên nhiên, về đời sống con người những vùng xa xôi hẻo lánh ấy, mê những thứ nghệ thuật dân gian, mê những phong tục tập quán. Ngày xưa tôi mê Nguyễn Tuân và Người lái đò sông Đà cung là vì thế, bởi đúng cái đoạn trích trong sách giáo khoa văn về dòng sông và ông lão lái đò. Thế nhưng Linh Sơn không phải là phóng sự, nó không đặt người đọc ra ngoài chiêm ngưỡng một mẫu vật. Chính vì cách viết nủa hư nửa thực nên tôi càng dễ đắm chìm vào cái thế giới mơ tưởng ấy.
Nói thế nào nhỉ, nó như là một sự chạy trốn. Mà nó chính thực là một sự chạy trốn. Dù là một sự chạy trốn bất thành. Bởi cái cuộc sống mà tác giả và nhân vật trong tác phẩm muốn chạy trốn khỏi cứ đeo bám, và xâm chiếm cái thế giới còn nhiều phần hoang dã kia.
Tôi chợt ngộ ra, à, vậy là ta cũng muốn trốn chạy. Nhưng biết trốn chạy đi đâu?
Ấy nhưng quái lạ làm sao, đôi khi có những tác phẩm tôi không hiểu được hết nhưng vẫn cứ say mê đọc.
Linh Sơn là một chuyến đi tìm ngọn núi hồn. Như phần giới thiệu tác phẩm có nhắc đến, cuốn sách chẳng có đầu có cuối. Nó tựa như một chuyến du hành vô tận, tìm mãi tìm mãi, thấy đủ thứ, nhưng chẳng thấy hết, và suy cho cùng ngẫm lại thì đã thấy cái gì? Núi, rừng, sông, vực, những bản làng, những câu chuyện lịch sử và thân thoại quái gở và ghê rợn, cái xã hội và con người, đàn ông và đàn bà và tình yêu và tình dục. Nửa mơ nửa tỉnh, nửa sống nửa chết. Đó là một hành trình vào sâu trong thiên nhiên và vào sâu trong vô thức của tâm hồn. Nhưng, như đã nói, cuối cùng ta thấy gì?
Tôi cũng chịu, chả biết. Nhưng cái hút hồn tôi nhất là giọng văn tả. Nó mang một thần lực khiến tôi mụ mị. Tôi mê những chuyến đi, tôi mê cái cách viết về thiên nhiên, về đời sống con người những vùng xa xôi hẻo lánh ấy, mê những thứ nghệ thuật dân gian, mê những phong tục tập quán. Ngày xưa tôi mê Nguyễn Tuân và Người lái đò sông Đà cung là vì thế, bởi đúng cái đoạn trích trong sách giáo khoa văn về dòng sông và ông lão lái đò. Thế nhưng Linh Sơn không phải là phóng sự, nó không đặt người đọc ra ngoài chiêm ngưỡng một mẫu vật. Chính vì cách viết nủa hư nửa thực nên tôi càng dễ đắm chìm vào cái thế giới mơ tưởng ấy.
Nói thế nào nhỉ, nó như là một sự chạy trốn. Mà nó chính thực là một sự chạy trốn. Dù là một sự chạy trốn bất thành. Bởi cái cuộc sống mà tác giả và nhân vật trong tác phẩm muốn chạy trốn khỏi cứ đeo bám, và xâm chiếm cái thế giới còn nhiều phần hoang dã kia.
Tôi chợt ngộ ra, à, vậy là ta cũng muốn trốn chạy. Nhưng biết trốn chạy đi đâu?
April 30, 2026
I have saved several books to read during my retirement and Soul Mountain is one of them. I love reading and I have read books from many cultures, which, generally, read differently from those by American authors. So, I felt comfortable starting this novel. However, after reading/skimming nearly 250 pages and not being able to "get into it," I finally put it down and started reading reviews. Aha, I found I was not the only one. Several reviews recommended reading the short chapter #72 stating that if you enjoyed that chapter, you would enjoy the book. Couldn't make it through the entire 3.5 pages. The sentence from that chapter completely describes the book: "You've slapped together travel notes, moralistic ramblings, feelings, notes, jottings, untheoretical discussions, unfable-like fables, copied out some folk songs, added some legend-like nonsense of your own invention, and are calling it fiction." (p.453) I just am not interested when there are so many other books to read.
August 17, 2020
A haunting, soul-searing novel, which is more poetry than fiction, which is more reflection than narration. The sum of its parts don't necessarily fully add up, but there's a lot of beauty in the language, and that makes it a riveting read.
Did Not Finish
November 14, 2024I stopped at 200 pages to end the torment. For me the story was meaningless and I was getting no pleasure or any value from its pages.
DNF.
DNF.
November 2, 2017
No way. There are a few interesting anecdotes, but this is not a novel: it is utterly devoid of shape or meaning; there's not a blinking thing I can get behind or grab hold of to push myself past the 23% mark, which has taken me three months to get to. No way. I am out of here. Yay!
February 17, 2026
En La montaña del alma, Gao Xingjian convierte el viaje geográfico en una estrategia de resistencia interior: la fragmentación narrativa y el desdoblamiento en “yo”, “tú” y “él” no solo expresan una crisis de identidad, sino que construyen un espacio de libertad frente a la opresión política y cultural.
La naturaleza es el origen, lo que no se puede dominar, y representa la posibilidad de que el protagonista se encuentre con una posibilidad de reconciliación con el mundo.
Un gran libro de muchas historias, lindas o difíciles tradicion oral y ritos, una belleza narrativa en su dimensión filosófica.
Una obra maestra de la literatura contemporánea que vale la pena leer.
100 %recomendado.
La naturaleza es el origen, lo que no se puede dominar, y representa la posibilidad de que el protagonista se encuentre con una posibilidad de reconciliación con el mundo.
Un gran libro de muchas historias, lindas o difíciles tradicion oral y ritos, una belleza narrativa en su dimensión filosófica.
Una obra maestra de la literatura contemporánea que vale la pena leer.
100 %recomendado.
March 1, 2022
"-هذه ليست رواية، الرواية يجب أن تتضمن قصة كاملة…
يقول أنه يروي قصصاً لكن بعضاً هذه القصص يرويها حتى النهاية و بعضها الآخر لا.
-إذا لم يكن هناك أي نظام متبع، فإن الكاتب لن يعرف كيف يتحكم بالحبكة"
…
"إذا كان يكتب روايات، فهذا لكي يواجه عزلته و يشعر بلذة التعبير عن الذات…"
جبل الروح، ذلك الجبل الأسطوري الواقع بين الحقيقة و الخيال، هل أنت حقاً هناك؟ لا أعتقدني سأجد الجواب يوماً، أنا فقط سأسافر إليه بكياني، بروحي، بتفاصيلي من غير الوصول إليه، أنا سأتبع الطرق كلها، و ليست الـ" أنا" وحدها التي ستتابع الطرق، بل الـ "أنت" أيضاً، و الـ "هي"، و قد يرافقنا الـ"هو". لا للـ"نحن"، أو الـ"هم" (مع الذكر أن الـ"هم" لا تختلف عن كونها مجموعة من الـ"هو") لأن الـ"أنا" لا ترحب بالجماعات. سنتابع طريقنا نحو أسطورة، نحو الجبل الشاهق فوق الأرض، و الجبل الباطن داخل النفس. و خلال الطريق أنا أؤكد أننا سننسى الوجهة، أو فلنقل أننا سنغيرها، سنتجه نحو الحرية عوضاً عن ذلك…
الصين، بغاباتها الشاسعة، أنهارها الضخمة، جبالها المهيبة، شعبها الشرقي، و سُلالاتها التي لا تنتهي، زج بها داخل هذا الكتاب. ليس فقط الصين بل أيضاً الكاتب بكل غزلاته، خيباته، مخاوفه، و وحداته. تخاف قول أن الكاتب رسم الصين بكل معالمها الجغرافية، الثقافية، الفكرية و الفلسفية، لأن الكتابة ليست كالرسم. الكتاب مليء بجمال القرى، بجمال الترحال، بجمال البحث، الضياع، التوتر، الخوف، الفرح و المتعة.
من أصعب ما قرأت، ذلك التوتر القابع داخل الكاتب انتقل إليّ بأسلوب ليس بالسهل الممتع، بل بالأسلوب الغامض. ذلك الضياع بين الأحداث، الشخصيات (غير الموجودة)، و الأماكن، بين الأسماء الصينية و العهود، بين التاريخ و المستقبل، بين الدين و اللادين، بين قصص ناسٍ قد ولوا و قصص ناس تعاني اليوم لأسباب عدة، خاصة لكل منطقة. كان هذا الكتاب رحلة طويلة، متعبة إلى عالم جديد بالنسبة لي، جديد شبيه بشكل ملحوظ بعالمنا و ثقافتنا. الرواية قد لا تحمل الكثير في بدايتها، عدا الكثير من الأماكن، الكثير من القصص و القليل من الفهم، لكنها مع تتابع الصفحات تحمل عمق و فلسفة موجودة هنا و فقط هنا عند حدود جبل الروح الاسطوري.
الرواية عن الوحدة، عن الموت والحزن، عن الماضي، عن الطفولة والشباب، عن المرض، عن الصداقة، عن الضحك و الغناء، عن القصائد القديمة، عن السياسة (رغم قلة ظهورها)، و عن…. يصعب تحديد موضوع عن الرواية، بل لا يمكن حصرها في مواضيع عدة، هي ملخص الحياة، ملخص كل المواضيع لكنها ليست موضوع، قد لا تبدو رواية، لكنها كذلك.
"إن الدراسات المحلية عن الدويلات المتحاربة و استذكار الناس و الوقائع المميزة من سلالتي هان، و سلالتي وي وجين و سلالات الشرق و الغرب، قصص تانغ الخرافية و قصص شونغ و يوان الشعبية، و الروايات المتسلسة و الأبحاث التي قامت بها سلالتا مينغ و تسينغ، تنتمي كلها إلى نوع الرواية لأنها تنقل لغة الشارع، و أخبار الأزقة دون أي نظام أو نمط جاهز سلفاً…"
يقول أنه يروي قصصاً لكن بعضاً هذه القصص يرويها حتى النهاية و بعضها الآخر لا.
-إذا لم يكن هناك أي نظام متبع، فإن الكاتب لن يعرف كيف يتحكم بالحبكة"
…
"إذا كان يكتب روايات، فهذا لكي يواجه عزلته و يشعر بلذة التعبير عن الذات…"
جبل الروح، ذلك الجبل الأسطوري الواقع بين الحقيقة و الخيال، هل أنت حقاً هناك؟ لا أعتقدني سأجد الجواب يوماً، أنا فقط سأسافر إليه بكياني، بروحي، بتفاصيلي من غير الوصول إليه، أنا سأتبع الطرق كلها، و ليست الـ" أنا" وحدها التي ستتابع الطرق، بل الـ "أنت" أيضاً، و الـ "هي"، و قد يرافقنا الـ"هو". لا للـ"نحن"، أو الـ"هم" (مع الذكر أن الـ"هم" لا تختلف عن كونها مجموعة من الـ"هو") لأن الـ"أنا" لا ترحب بالجماعات. سنتابع طريقنا نحو أسطورة، نحو الجبل الشاهق فوق الأرض، و الجبل الباطن داخل النفس. و خلال الطريق أنا أؤكد أننا سننسى الوجهة، أو فلنقل أننا سنغيرها، سنتجه نحو الحرية عوضاً عن ذلك…
الصين، بغاباتها الشاسعة، أنهارها الضخمة، جبالها المهيبة، شعبها الشرقي، و سُلالاتها التي لا تنتهي، زج بها داخل هذا الكتاب. ليس فقط الصين بل أيضاً الكاتب بكل غزلاته، خيباته، مخاوفه، و وحداته. تخاف قول أن الكاتب رسم الصين بكل معالمها الجغرافية، الثقافية، الفكرية و الفلسفية، لأن الكتابة ليست كالرسم. الكتاب مليء بجمال القرى، بجمال الترحال، بجمال البحث، الضياع، التوتر، الخوف، الفرح و المتعة.
من أصعب ما قرأت، ذلك التوتر القابع داخل الكاتب انتقل إليّ بأسلوب ليس بالسهل الممتع، بل بالأسلوب الغامض. ذلك الضياع بين الأحداث، الشخصيات (غير الموجودة)، و الأماكن، بين الأسماء الصينية و العهود، بين التاريخ و المستقبل، بين الدين و اللادين، بين قصص ناسٍ قد ولوا و قصص ناس تعاني اليوم لأسباب عدة، خاصة لكل منطقة. كان هذا الكتاب رحلة طويلة، متعبة إلى عالم جديد بالنسبة لي، جديد شبيه بشكل ملحوظ بعالمنا و ثقافتنا. الرواية قد لا تحمل الكثير في بدايتها، عدا الكثير من الأماكن، الكثير من القصص و القليل من الفهم، لكنها مع تتابع الصفحات تحمل عمق و فلسفة موجودة هنا و فقط هنا عند حدود جبل الروح الاسطوري.
الرواية عن الوحدة، عن الموت والحزن، عن الماضي، عن الطفولة والشباب، عن المرض، عن الصداقة، عن الضحك و الغناء، عن القصائد القديمة، عن السياسة (رغم قلة ظهورها)، و عن…. يصعب تحديد موضوع عن الرواية، بل لا يمكن حصرها في مواضيع عدة، هي ملخص الحياة، ملخص كل المواضيع لكنها ليست موضوع، قد لا تبدو رواية، لكنها كذلك.
"إن الدراسات المحلية عن الدويلات المتحاربة و استذكار الناس و الوقائع المميزة من سلالتي هان، و سلالتي وي وجين و سلالات الشرق و الغرب، قصص تانغ الخرافية و قصص شونغ و يوان الشعبية، و الروايات المتسلسة و الأبحاث التي قامت بها سلالتا مينغ و تسينغ، تنتمي كلها إلى نوع الرواية لأنها تنقل لغة الشارع، و أخبار الأزقة دون أي نظام أو نمط جاهز سلفاً…"
June 2, 2017
I could really do without all the ,"This is women, you say, they want to go traveling in the mountains but don't want any hardships," 191, "when the miners fought over a women the knives would go in clean and come out red, and this was on top of the more ordinary complications of women," 187, "She's upset about her skirt getting wet, not about herself, and her moist eyes sparkle like the sun's rays reflected in the stream. You have finally captured her, a stubborn struggling wild animal, and she suddenly turns docile in your arms and begins to silently weep." 78.
The author's female companion in the story is portrayed as selfish, childish, and gloomy. All the women in the stories he tells to tease her are raped, beaten, tragic "sluts." You literally cannot let three pages pass without the author talking negatively about a woman.
The author's female companion in the story is portrayed as selfish, childish, and gloomy. All the women in the stories he tells to tease her are raped, beaten, tragic "sluts." You literally cannot let three pages pass without the author talking negatively about a woman.
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