"I'm not sure" is a most useful phrase.
So says the protagonist of The New-Year Sacrifice, the first story in Wandering, Lu Xun's 1926 short story collection; and I'll have to say that I wholly agree with him. In fact, I may be inclined to employ this most useful phrase to describe my feelings on the book itself.
I'm not sure about Wandering.
Lu Xun tells stories differently than other authors I've read. Each one has a very basic story line, with no frills whatsoever. They're vague, oddly translated, and more often than not go nowhere. To get any pleasure out of them requires searching for their artistically embedded meanings, often mistily displayed through human examples. The themes and feelings explored throughout include grievance, indecision, confusion, tradition and duty. It seems to me that each was put across rather carelessly, and I'm not really sure what kind of effect Lu Xun was going for, or if even he knew what effect he was going for.
My copy of Wandering is printed on slightly glossy paper, and at night, as I read by the light of my bedside lamp, parts of the pages, due to the moderate shininess of the paper, would be slightly obscured by a kind of gleaming reflection of the lamp's light. This resulted in me having to adjust how I held the book in order to see everything on the page, and I feel as if this obscuring of text somewhat reflects my overall reading experience. I felt a niggling annoyance that I was missing something, like these stories were actually much more interesting and thought-worthy than I understood, but that I wasn't fully comprehending Lu Xun's subtle concerns and intonations. Maybe something was lost in Yang Xianyi and Gladys Yang's murky translation, or maybe I'm just a blithering ignoramus, of which the latter is highly likely. Nonetheless, I can't say I got much out of these stories.