Not infrequently, I'm drawn to a book for one reason and then I find myself enjoying it for a completely different one. The appeal here was a promised memoir of peasant life during the Cultural Revolution in China. Strictly speaking, that's exactly what you get.
But first and foremost, this is a heartfelt family-focused memoir, centered around the author's illiterate father and two uncles, almost completely absent any reference or awareness of the systemic influences on their struggles. Yan escaped his impoverished rural life, thanks to a voracious appetite for reading and a skill for writing. Any hint of political awareness is oblique, but there is plenty of social awareness. To Yan, a rural adolescent, his role models are simultaneously exalted pillars of strength as much as fates to be avoided. The translation for his family life used throughout the book is "peasant" – a word we'd never use for contemporaries today even for the most impoverished Appalachian families – but when looking at the stories through a wider lens, the word isn't incorrect.
Every day, First Uncle's family would wake up in the morning before dawn and travel to the river more than ten li away, where they would go to the gully on the other side of the river to collect stones. After collecting the stones they would ford the waist-deep water to return to their side of the river, and would then sell the stones to the state work units. Each day they would make two round trips – setting out each morning when the night sky was still full of stars and returning home each night when the sky was once again full of stars. Apart from the Lunar New Year and periods where there was a lot of farm work. First Uncle and his family proceeded like this, day after day, year after year. In all, they continued like this for three years, their own version of China's Three Years of Natural Disasters.
The men in Yan's father's generation were pack mules and peddlers. The story here is one of generational change and geographical inequity. To be a rural patriarch in that era was to struggle, and to do so in an environment that would offer them little personal reward and render their own values obsolete.
My father's generation struggled tirelessly for food, clothing, and housing. They struggled to build their sons their own three-room, tile-roofed houses. But now, those adobe-roofed and tile-roofed houses have gone out of style – like trees that become old and shriveled before they have a chance to become fully grown. Those houses were like children of fallen aristocrats, standing in a modern city, recalling their former lives.
Yan does little to conceal his feelings throughout. The memoir is colored by the fact that he waited to write this when he was older. He regularly alludes to his own past failings in understanding and appreciating his father's generation and their struggles. And he nicely walks a line, expressing admiration and even reverence for his elders while at the same time concealing little of their moral failings.
The most compelling history is probably that of Fourth Uncle, a man who struck out to escape the rural poverty trap by becoming, in essence, a migrant laborer. He spent his working years away from his family, working for a construction company, and his relative success in obtaining a better income made him an idol for young Lianke. Fourth Uncle was the first page of that book I wanted to open. Fourth Uncle was also the first page of the happy life for which I yearned. But Fourth Uncle struggled every bit as much as his brothers, not only with earning enough money, but also in shouldering the burdens of both urban and rural life, belonging to neither place.
Yan's own eventual escape from rural poverty – the luxury that he was able to tell this tale in the first place – likely compounds his own feelings of regret and guilt about the struggles of these men. Yan is writing about ghosts in more ways than one.
Ultimately, through the histories of these three brothers, we do get a picture of the powerlessness endured by a generation of Chinese men during this moment in history. This is not a political book, but the political and economic forces that constrained the family are evident to any reader. And the structure of the memoir, to delve into the lives of each brother, is effective. If there is a failing here, it's the unabashed omission of any female perspective. In any world where the men are powerless, you had better believe the women are even more so.
I also rather enjoyed the writing. I can imagine the difficulty of translating from the Chinese, a language distant enough from English to present styles and idioms that have no clear parallel (a brownish-purple fear). Sometimes the literal translations don't fly (The train station was as cold and empty as a barren field, but the tracks stretched into the night like a pair of fried dough sticks.) but that just goes with the territory. A book can only go so far to put ourselves in the shoes of a people and culture so remote from our own perspective, but that is always a struggle worth pursuing. In that light, it's wonderful that a book like this is translated and distributed in English. Lianke's father and uncles would be amazed that I read about their lives.