Shanhong Jiang leidt een doelloos bestaan in het grote en onpersoonlijke Peking. Totdat ze een pakketje ontvangt uit haar geboortedorp, Het Dorp van Steen, ver weg gelegen aan de kust. De inhoud van het pakketje roept onmiddellijk sterke herinneringen op aan haar jeugd. Herinneringen die ze zorgvuldig heeft weggestopt en geheimen uit haar jeugd waar ze niet meer aan wil denken. Maar het verleden laat zich niet begraven.
Xiaolu Guo (Simplified Chinese: 郭小櫓 pinyin:guō xiǎo lǔ, born 1973) is a Chinese novelist and filmmaker. She utilizes various media, including film and writing, to tell stories of alienation, introspection and tragedy, and to explore China's past, present and future in an increasingly connected world.
Her novel A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary For Lovers was nominated for the 2007 Orange Prize for Fiction. She was also the 2005 Pearl Award (UK) winner for Creative Excellence.
Ein sehr düsteres, dramatisches und atmosphärisches Buch,welches Innehalten lässt. Eine schöne Sprache und eine Hauptprotagonisten,die den Leser erst kurz vor Ende an sich heran kommen lässt. Corals Geschichte ist geprägt von Einsamkeit, Unterdrückung, Traumata und Schweigen....aber sie geht ihren Weg und das hat mich sehr beeindruckt. Zudem gewinnen wir hier einen Einblick in chinesische Traditionen und Bräuche,die an der einen und anderen Stelle sprachlos machen und trotzdem faszinieren. Es hat irgendwas gefehlt,damit ich 5 Sterne geben kann, dennoch eine Leseempfehlung.
I'm so glad I picked this book by chance out of the library shelves. A story of quiet brutality that is built up in such beautiful phrases and imagery that you don't (or I didn't at least) see it coming. And then an equally quiet and beautiful possibility of redemption is offered, culminating in a mediation on the importance of family & personal history, despite the hurts that family can cause. Really highly recommended!
This book seems very simple on the surface -- an eel from an unknown sender starts our protagonist on the road of remembering her childhood. As she remembers and ponders her childhood she learns to let go of her hate. This is not an easy (as in subject) book to read. Coral has some truly horrible memories of her childhood. But this is a book that will make you think and take you to a small village in China.
A marvelously well written shortish novel packed with tenderness and pain in the process of being overcome. Look out for the underlying imagery, the high-rise apartement building, the frisbee, the eel, the marinas grave, the sea itself, the stone house, the caskett-like cellar. In and with all these clearly marked-out shapes of mind and soul Xiaolu presents us to real people, unforgettable sense and sensibility and a story of a life-time with no borders between now and then. Truly beautiful in every way
The first Guo I read, Twenty Fragments of a Ravenous Youth, was a work I greatly resonated with due to its no-nonsense portrayal of my own age group in a setting that is customarily choked to the gills with sensationalist communisms and related matters. Certain parts of this book provide more of the same, but on the whole, the subject material is far more extreme in temper than that collegial misanthrope of a tome, so I was less of an engaged participant and more a distanced observer this time around. I better appreciated the structuring of the entirety by the ending, but as suggested by Lessing's blurb (some very surprising authors reviewing other authors lately: Mantel for Ogawa, Lessing for Guo; I suppose I should be glad more established Anglo woman authors are vouching for their women in translation comrades) on my copy's back cover, this is a modern fairy tale in tone, and unfortunately similarly cardboard cutout in characters, plot points, and trauma instances. I would like to read more Guo, but none of her more popular works that come to mind appeal on surface level, and honestly, I'm craving something a tad more chaotic than what Guo's sometimes straightforward narration can give me. As such, not the most triumphant return to a promising author, but Guo is still rather young, so I can afford to look forward to future works of hers that haven't yet calcified in their reputation.
I've been celebrating Women in Translation Month for the past few weeks, and that has meant delving into the small but still sustainable collection of relevant reading and exploring authors both new and old in the vein of the as of yet unread works. Guo is one of the ones who I've been meaning to return to for a few years, but while I'm holding out on reading more of her works, this work was on par with Ogawa's work that I recently completed, an author that I've decided to take a break from in a manner that may turn out permanent. The scenarios rendered by the two authors are very different, but I felt there was too much reliance on certain themes of menace along certain disgustingly familiar predator and prey dynamics, so I was less horrified by VoS' protagonist's horrifying childhood experiences and more exhausted by watching something I had seem before and will likely be forced to watch for some time coming in popular media. Not the most compassionate thing to say, but so to as it's not the responsibility of the author to moralize if they don't desire to, it's not my job to evaluate narratives solely through empathy, biologically unreliable as that method is. Still, I made some worthwhile observations regarding the refreshingly few and brief appearances of Communism and the culminating resolution of the protagonist in the previously cited fairy tale-esque structure of enchanted items, a parent's blessing, and a modern, loyal form of Prince Charming. All worthy of an essay or two, but this is not the most entertaining form of reading engagement, or the most energy efficient, so I will have to let Guo's works rest for the moment.
Another reading day, another not as great read, but considering how well the previous two works I read went, I can't bemoan too much. There's no telling what Guo would have made of 280 or 550 pages, which were the relative lengths of those last two aforementioned works, and there's some telling what her chances of publications would have been, a woman of color in translation to Anglo, if she had chosen to wax verbose in this work, her first novel to be published outside of China. The bias towards the horrendously short in length is obvious in my shelves for works hailing from that particular demographic, and it makes me wonder how much I have been cheated of in terms of appreciating a writer when so few are allowed to break into the 400+ page realm and beyond, leastwise in the realm of fiction. In any case, I'll pick up another Guo that seems written more in the vein of TFoaRY than anything else, as I still appreciate the keen view she has of my age group, and in these climate changed ends of eras, I'll take what commiseration I can get.
For much of China's history, food remains the forefront of people's daily lives, eventually culturally turning into one of the nation's greatest themes portrayed through idea of consumption and the mouth. In Village of Stone, split between modern Beijing and the memories of the Coral's childhood village by the sea, consumption and silence work together to weave a lyrical, well-paced narrative that deals with the issue of memory and coming to terms with tragedy. The motifs which link the present-day Coral, namely the wonderfully surreal dried eel which become the focus of Coral and her partner's lives, act as a thematic link to the fishing village where the stones seem to be like mouths, silent but holding plenty of stories revealed to the reader in short, colourful bursts. Guo is a good writer by any description, skilfully presenting two interlinking narratives which traverse time and space: the awkward misunderstandings of the couple mirror Coral's grandparents who never speak; Coral's silence at all the various tragedies that befall her - in part caused by a certain mute character - comes back to haunt her in the novel's conclusion with the silence of her long-lost father and his eventual 'muteness' which in turn causes Coral to make one final journey to the Village of Stone. Perhaps within Coral's journey lies the novel's principle weakness in that it seems to have been tied so well together, at the end, for emotional value that it seems rather commonplace: all the stones have been upturned, examined, cleaned and then put back, whilst the now and the then complement each other in perhaps a too sickly sweet combination. The story is precise, and there is charm in its poetic qualities, but feels too gently artificial overall. Various threads remain constantly picked at such as the Frisbee obsession that dominates Coral's current boyfriend; or the plight of the fishing village; and even, at the end, the difference between voice and silence, consumption and starvation becomes too heavy-handed. Nevertheless, such themes occupy a world which is refreshingly focused on rural culture and emotional history. In Guo's - largely - apolitical story, she focuses on the tragic childhood of Coral through well-told stories of the somewhat backwards Village, stories that are hard to ignore. Beautiful as the Village is I think Guo's analysis of contemporary China, though largely overshadowed in favour for the more poetically fruitful past, is far more interesting. In these short snapshots, we see Coral's current life in a bustling Beijing where the sun is rarely seen and toilets become blocked and all in all more pressing, visceral and hard than the dreamy, non-distinct past which Village of Stone revolves around. Like I said, the transition between the past and present is well written; the translation renders the novel a very easy read, but I feel, as Guo's debut novel, this seems more like a safe exploration into the themes which have yet to become complex enough to be wholly satisfying.
(4½) A great emotional story. Coral (Little Dog) and Red live in Beijing. One day Coral receives a large package from Village of Stone with an eel in it. While Coral reminds her of childhood memories that she has banished deeply, Red tries to get a Fresbe tournament on its feet. Coral's memories are very touching. She is raised by her grandparents, who have not spoken to each other for decades. Coral's mother died at birth and her birth father disappeared before birth. Coral grows up in poverty. She likes to stroll through the village, being chased by the mute and raped at seven. She is so ashamed that she doesn't tell anyone. The grandfather dies first and her grandmother blooms. When her grandmother dies, she doesn't stay much longer in the village. This story is very touching, I highly recommend it.
The arrival of a dried, salted eel from her home village triggers the reminiscence of a young Beijing woman’s childhood in a tiny fishing town on the central coast of China in the 1980s. Though the details are almost overwhelmingly tragic—abandonment by both parents in infancy, kidnapped and serially raped at age 7, raised by uncaring grandparents, loneliness and the harshness of daily life in a remote fishing community—the book is hopeful rather than depressing. The language is concise, poetic and visceral, like listening to someone recounting a vivid daydream. Unlike so much contemporary Chinese literature (so much of which is based on revealing the brutality of Chinese life in the 1960s through 1980s), there is no mention of politics or blaming political circumstances in the story, which makes this small gem of a novel feel timeless.
I really enjoyed this book, especially as I had just seen a documentary on Beijing called 'Concrete Revolution' that the author had made. The present day narrative interspersed with the memories of childhood of the main character drew me in and got me involved in their well being and their lives very easily. Her style has evolved a little since then, but the theme of memory and relationships are still prevalent and the idea of the past intruding on the present.
I like to read Asian and African authors when I can, because the methods of storytelling can be so different from culture to culture and continent to continent. I enjoyed this book, but it was hard for me to become completely engaged in it--it was so dreamlike and foggy that it's already hard for me to remember all the details.
Left me with a haunting feeling...which is one of the key traits of a book, in such a genre, well-written. I'd like to immerse myself in more of the author's work.
A beautiful and moving story about learning to let go of the past that’s holding you back. A story about hatred and forgiveness. About a small coastal town in China stuck in time and the sleepless Beijing. About embracing your past life, but also your present and your future as well. Although the story seemed pretty simple at first, it is written in a beautiful and melancholic way that truly moved me. Despite living a very different life and having had very different life experiences, I could relate to the main character a lot. Maybe because we’re the exact same age and that some questions are universal. Nevertheless it made me feel understood and turned some feelings of loneliness into something hopeful. Overall it was a wonderful book that leaves me feeling empty but in an odd, positive way.
Spare yet elegant, at times brutal and at times beautiful, there is a lot to like in this book. It's quick, so be sure to pay attention, but it does hold the attention easily. It wanders back and forth in time as it does between the real world and the world of stories. I was definitely pleased to read it.
As in the previous books I read, there is an appealing underlying subtlety to a naive (meant as a positive character property) narrative voice, and a story with unexpected turns evolves. An eel is eaten and a childhood is remembered, nothing more, but difficult enough.
The coarseness of life in the Village of Stone derived from the sea. From the time I was small, I knew the ocean to be the most profound of things; she gave birth to everything, devoured everything. We lived and died by her. The brave fishermen who ventured out into her belly sometimes returned; sometimes they didn't return at all. In the same way, many of the fishing boats and nets that the fishermen dragged along the coast ended up buried at sea. To me, the sea was more terrifying than death.
This book just completely swept me up; I lost myself in Xialou Guo's atmospheric, vivid prose, and I loved every second of it. This is definitely a contender for my favourite book of the year (rivalled by the late Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye). This is about the memories and places that haunt us, the trauma that confines you in the past and affects everything in your present. I'm struggling to do this book justice right now but I'm a bit overwhelmed by it to be honest. It's so raw and tender, with a blend of love and hate, pain and fondness, and I think it gorgeously encapsulates most people's relationship with their past but especially those dealing with traumatic memories. In my opinion, nothing is over/underdone, nothing is made too glossy nor is it gratuitous - everything is perfectly balanced, and I think part of that is due to this being an autobiographical novel but mostly due to Xialou's skill as a writer.
I'm genuinely nervous to pick up another book by this author as I loved this one so much and don't know where to go next - though I think Once Upon a Time in the East is the one I'm most drawn to.
Ein weiteres Buch, das seit Jahren in meinem Regal schlummerte, das ich jedoch nicht nur angelesen und aussortiert, sondern auch ausgelesen habe.
Und dabei beginnt alles mit einem Aal.
Getrocknet und gesalzen, von einem Unbekannten aus der Heimatstadt der Protagonistin versendet, löst er eine Reihe von Erinnerungen aus. Gegenwart und Vergangenheit wechseln sich ab und schaffen den Startpunkt für einen Neustart. Auch wenn alles auf ein optimistisches Ende zusteuert, benötigt dieser Roman Triggerwarnungen für sexuelle Gewalt an einem Kind sowie eine Abtreibung. Diese Episoden werden schonungslos und doch distanziert geschildert, nehmen allerdings überraschend wenig Raum im gesamten Kontext der Geschichte ein. Es geht weniger um die Aufarbeitung dessen, mehr um die Aufarbeitung der insgesamt trostlosen Kindheit und Jugend und scheinbar perspektivlosen Gegenwart. Xiaolu schafft zwischendurch Bilder unglaublicher Tiefe, doch insgesamt bleibt das Erzähle distanziert und seltsam unzusammenhängend und die Protagonistin diffus. Ganz überzeugen konnte mich das Buch daher nicht, ich merke dennoch, wie es mich beschäftigt.
Ergänzung nach Lesen des Klappentextes: Darum, die eigenen Traditionen anzunehmen, geht es meiner Meinung nach nicht. Natürlich erhält man Einblicke in diese, da sie ganz selbstverständlich auftauchen. Es findet allerdings kaum eine Auseinandersetzung damit statt. Und jetzt, da ich dies schreibe, fällt mir auf wie zeitlos die Erzählung ist und dass keine Auseinandersetzung mit der chinesischen Gesellschaft als solche stattfindet. Alles bewegt sich maßgeblich im Kosmos der Stadt der Steine oder des Hochhauses in Beijing.
xiaolu guo’s stories have been really fascinating to me in the way they convey life in rural china in contrast to big cities (in this case shanghai) and how the experiences in each carry over to each other and i feel like she is able to explore the tie to “home” so much with this… so raw and honest and beautiful!! i hope to one day be able to read her works in chinese <3
Probably the darkest Guo book I have read so far. The writing evokes a sense of oppression, dread, and suffocation. There is a looming discomfort throughout the entire book. It ends on an unsettling and bittersweet note.
Unputdownable. Mostly bleak about the terrible things in early life this girl survived and the grim banal life for young adults in a Chinese city. Uplifting and positive finish. I loved it.
3.5 The ending of "Village of Stone" was a bit too tidy, but the rest of the book is quite interesting. It shows the differences between rural China, still heavy with superstitions and old ways, and urban China, busy and full of people. However, it also shows their similarities, and how a person can feel lost or apart from others in either.
It's a short novel packed with quite a lot of action. Swings in the plot are no less surprising than the ones you may have seen in soap operas and there is plenty of them. Some are is easy to predict, others may not. There is first person narrator and two timespace perspective: present in Beijing and childhood 3 days on the train, in Village of Stones. Book begins pretty dark, but it brights up with fairly happy end. It would probably light up a spirit if it wasn't so action packed with such a plot twistes, some more predictable than others. The language is very strong side of the novel. I guess good traslation of just as good if not better original. Overall it is pretty good work, but ending seem to be rushed up and plot is twisting a lot, more less predictably. I don't mind that but it's nearly impossible amount of coincidences. I had a feeling that author got tired of her characters and tried to push it at last third of the novel. It's common, but somehow beginning left me with high expectations. 3 and a half star... Well, 3.
Beautiful, tender, chaotic, confusing, heart-breaking, aloof, and ultimately satisfying all describe Village of Stone.
The protagonist is a distant, disconnect urban woman living with her boyfriend in a crowded Beijing flat. Yet that all comes apart when she mysteriously receives a package from her old home village. The secrets that lie within are intriguing, and are played out in a way that isn't stickily sentimental, but rather beautiful and complex.
I read this book while waiting for my laundry to finish one spring afternoon in South Africa, and my memories of the place are permanently linked to the text so lovingly laid down on these pages.
And the last for my Asian trip, need a real-live one, and I'm on my way... and...as with most Asian novels I have attempted in my life, this was another that simply did not come alive for me. I find Asian stories particularly, strangely void and emotionless in their centers. Some nice touches here, a little eccentric flavor there, but, in all, I have never and still do not "get" Asian fiction. All very foreign, and faint.
Memories of the main character's childhood re-emerge when one day she suddenly receives a dried eel from her hometown, the Village of Stone. The story then proceeds alternating the current life of Coral in nowadays Beijing and the past in the small coastal village. The book is deep and quite dark from time to time, depicting terrible events of the past. Main themes are relationships, coming to terms with the past and chinese food culture. The style is pretty fluid.
The beautiful bleakness of both style and content wonderfully contrasts with the vivid descriptions of both the city of Beijing and the village from the title. Although the ending offers thematic redemption, it also offers a thematic shift which I sadly cared less for, which makes this novel not "flawless", but "beautiful with a flaw".
A young Chinese woman is confronted with her past and the sexual abuse she suffered when growing up in a remote fishing village. This is a very moving story that gives hope despite its difficult content.