The dust has settled.

Author: A Lai
Publisher:
Publish Date: 1998-03-01
Features: A Lai's Dust Settles unexpectedly won the Mao Dun Literature Prize. Before this, the book was already confirmed for publication in the United States, with an initial print run of 30,000 copies. A Lai's Tibetan identity and the exotic atmosphere in the novel seemingly reiterate that the national is global. However, the love, violence, boundaries depicted in the novel, along with the seemingly naive yet masterfully crafted, dreamlike narration of the apocalypse's terror, are key to its excellence. There is no redemption, no possibility of redemption, nor a need for it. Due to A Lai's composed narrative tone, the end of this apocalyptic tale feels more like a curtain about to fall, an unresolved conclusion. Between this, after this, history continues, the game continues. Against the backdrop of the modern decline of the Tibetan chieftain system, the novel tells the story of cleverness and foolishness, love and hatred, development and decay through the perspective and fate of the second son of a Tibetan chieftain, making the modern conflicts fresh and moving, leaving a lasting impression. I believe there are many reasons for this peculiar effect, and the novel itself offers broad space for multifaceted interpretation. Here, I merely wish to point out one reason: the author deliberately explores a new way of writing about the lives of ethnic minorities—what might be called cross-ethnic writing. Cross-ethnic writing is a style that transcends ethnic boundaries to seek some universality. This clearly means bridging the two waves of writing about the lives of ethnic minorities since the New Period: cross-ethnic writing and ethnic writing. A Lai's writing can be said to inherit the narrative techniques of the avant-garde, while avoiding showing off his mastery and sensitivity to language as a mere trick. Instead, he adopts a more straightforward and attitude, concealing all wit and talent in seemingly naive yet skillfully crafted narration. His subversion and irony of history are always subtly masked in the luxurious banquet of lyrical dirges. There are no gimmicks to impress the audience or added commercial additives to cater to the masses. Instead, he treats the novel as a narrative art of language. "I" begin my narration at the age of thirteen on a snowy morning. At eighteen, the maid Sangji Tsemak introduces "me" to the mysteries of love and sex, and becomes "my" personal attendant. Because I failed to retrieve the headman's head who betrayed me, the Chieftain Maqi went to the provincial capital to complain, bringing with him the Special Commissioner Huang. He equipped "our" family with a "modern army," assisting in recapturing the rebel village and defeating the Chieftain Wangbo. Before leaving, Huang left behind a bag of mysterious opium seeds. The following summer, opium blossomed brilliantly, inflating the lust of the men to an unprecedented degree. During his excursion, the Chieftain Maqi fell for the beautiful wife of the headman, Yangzong, and thus plotted to have the headman's steward, Dorgye Tsering, kill him, framing him as a rebel. Yangzong was then brought into the Chieftain's house. Enraged, the Chieftain's wife had Dorgye Tsering killed, but the Chieftain used the opportunity to claim that Dorgye Tsering had killed his headman to seize power, that he had now exposed him, and thus executed him. On the night of the execution, Dorgye Tsering's wife set fire to her own village, which had already become the Chieftain's property, and threw herself into the flames. Her two sons escaped the Chieftain's domain, waiting for the chance to avenge their father. That year, an earthquake struck, but the opium yield was bountiful. Sangji accepted the proposal of the silversmith, but since the opium seeds were never to leave the family, the Chieftain Maqi became the target of hatred from many other chieftains. The great temptation led the neighboring Chieftain Wangbo to send three warriors to steal the seeds, hiding them in the ears of three human heads brought back. When I went on a tour of the territory, I discovered the secret of the "flowering ears." Thus, another war broke out between the Chieftains Maqi and Wangbo, with Maqi emerging victorious, but the only cost was the death of the child born to Yangzong, who had fallen in love with the Chieftain but was now disgraced. The Chieftain Maqi grew increasingly wealthy and powerful. In another planting season, they argued over what to plant. "I" believed they should plant grain, but my older brother insisted on planting opium. The Chieftain followed the advice of the "fool." Grain yielded a bountiful harvest, while the surrounding chieftains, obsessed with the former profits of opium, faced a famine. The grain of the Chieftain Maqi became as valuable as gold. To test his two sons, the Chieftain assigned them to manage the granaries on the border. The older son lost weapons and grain in frequent battles, while "I" used the precious grain to feed the starving people of the Chieftain Laxigong, turning them to our side, and won the beautiful and stunning daughter of the female Chieftain, Tanra, but what pained "me" was that this beauty did not love the fool "I." "I" gradually turned the area around the granaries into a market and began doing business, with silver and treasures flowing in. Here, the avenger—Dorgye Tsering's second son appeared, his target the Chieftain Maqi and the older son. "I" returned home with great wealth and a beautiful wife, and was warmly welcomed by the people, but at this moment, I lost my right to inherit the chieftaincy. The old Chieftain decided to abdicate, naming the older son as his successor. Afterward, my wife betrayed "me," throwing herself into the arms of the older son, who had long been coveting her. Grief made "me" silent. "I" found the purple robes of the executed and wore them every day, restoring the appearance of the fool. The enemies finally stabbed the younger Chieftain in the belly. Seeing the decline of the Chieftain Maqi's family, the female Chieftain incited her daughter to seduce the young Chieftain Wangbo. "I" returned to the border market I had founded. The Special Commissioner Huang returned, bringing women and syphilis, and became "my" steward. Tanra returned, but she could never have children, and the Chieftain Maqi grew increasingly old. The neighboring chieftains indulged in the beautiful women, contracting diseases previously unheard of. The opium flowers no longer bloomed, the beautiful women no longer came, and the chieftains sank into the silence of the earth. Dorgye Tsering's older son finally raised his knife to me. When the dust settled, I only hoped that my soul would be reborn on this beautiful land.