When I picked up this book, I was planning to read, probably, 10 pages per night. That sounds about right, I thought I could deal with the anger and the sadness generated from 10 pages of writing. It turns out that it was harder.
It's almost strange that it's so hard. After all, Dikotter writes with such a calm, almost neutral voice. I myself couldn't keep calm as the horror plays out. Perhaps all of us know the general idea of the Great Leap Forward: collectivization, collapse of farming, industry, service, deterioration of life and nature, great man-made famine, people died, a lot. Some estimation of total death tolls is given, argued over in history. Yet all of that is so abstract, until one actually digs into the matter, until this book.
I feel like almost every line in this book is taken from sources, and at times I was overwhelmed by the number of statistics and of the anecdotes given. In fact, half of the book is dedicated to detailing the sources, so this is indeed a shorter book than you expected. Dikotter is able to categorize the great volume of information into clear and concise writing, giving reader the medium-sized overall picture, and presenting side by side many personal stories to encourage us to experience at a more human level. I said `medium-sized' because given the current state of access of archives in China, it is impossible to get to the complete big one. At first I was frustrated, I was demanding more from the author, hoping for coverage in other provinces, until he discusses the limit of sources at the end. So potential readers, be patient.
I was laughing bitterly at the end when some local leaders were finally arrested, accused, and taken down by the party. Sure they were responsible, they were the perpetrators, yet they are not the roots of the problem, it is the system that allows such behaviors to emerge. There are leaders that try to feed their people as much as possible, there are firms inflating numbers to provide for their workers, but more prevalent are the disgusting stories, such as ones in Gansu (Cam Túc) and Sichuan (Tứ Xuyên) and many other places where humans were treated like dirt, tortured, beaten, humiliated, starved to death.
I chatted with a Chinese friend a while ago. He kinda defended Mao, saying the flaw is mostly in the system. There was this lack of information, every one from the lowest level would mess with reports and data. Mao didn't know. He perhaps had good intentions, he was partly responsible, but not all. Fuck that. Mao created the system. He created a terror-based power in the highest level of the government, and it transmitted to all the lower levels. He knew and heard some voices but deliberately ignored and refused to accept evidence, until all became too visible. And once all was out, he blamed imaginary enemies, those rightists and counter-revolutionaries, blamed local leaders, and he let others clear the mess for him. Fuck that man. That person in power isn't pursuing greatness for Chinese, he was pursuing the glory for an abstract Zhonghua and for himself, his pride too delicate, his image in front of the international leaders too important. And I was thoroughly disappointed with all the other politicians in the period, except for perhaps Peng Dehuai (Bành Đức Hoài), even with Liu Shaoqi (Lưu Thiếu Kỳ) despite his comeback and resistance to Mao later on, and feel so disgusted with Deng Xiaoping and Zhou Enlai. Fuck them all. They are all so far removed from real people, looking at China from so much distance, being aware of some problems but often deliberately (consciously or unconsciously) chose to ignore the signs. They are so steeped in the one and only problem, how to stay in power, and if Mao represents power, how to stay in his favor. Was it because the country so big and the population so large, tens, hundreds, thousands, hundred thousands, then even millions of deaths don't sound that bad to them anymore?
It's a fucking sick story where one cannot take revenge for the dead. Well, no, actually historians are our heroes. But it's still very painful.