Very good citizen Chen Cibao

Author: Cai Ce-hai
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2004-02-01
Features: Media Recommendations
Book Reviews
Language is like sunlight, bringing things into focus, giving them color and sound, giving life to things. Sunlight cannot make a stone sprout, but language can turn a stone into a stone of language. Where sunlight cannot reach, moss grows; where sunlight cannot reach, language calls it shadow. Humans are unreachable, but language is reachable, hence poetry, drama, novels, and a special genre—prose. The relationship between language and humans is like that between fish and water. The water of language has no beginning or end; fish live in water, and humans live in language. Life or death. My writing journey is a long trek through language. I have always wanted to find my own way of speaking—how to speak, what to speak. I want to have my say in relation to things. The charm and meaning of things evoke the desire to speak. Laozi said, "The great form has no shape, the great sound has no voice, the great way has no words," but in essence, he was still saying that the way of speaking differs. He spoke well, in his own way, saying enough of what needed to be said. Zhuangzi would speak, Confucius would speak, Qu Yuan, Li Shangyin, Su Shi—all were skilled in speech. Dream of the Red Chamber and Flowers in the Mirror spoke well. Homer’s epics and Greek myths spoke vividly. Those who are eloquent leave little room for what remains unsaid. Literature leaves a little brilliance, illuminating us still. What remains are clichés, lies, empty talk, nonsense, worn-out phrases, and the language of animals, lacking the ferocity and authenticity of animals. Yet, something always surges within you. One day, at an event, after the ceremonies and idle talk were over, an elderly folk artist performed a quick-paced piece called The Mother-in-Law of Three Rivers and Half. The Sichuan accent, the charm, the humor of the folk artist, that realm—made me so happy! In the folk world, language is always vibrant. If I weren’t so foolish, if I wrote novels like a folk artist, like a tree with life, like a tree blooming flowers, adding honest, interesting, and meaningful adjectives to myself, I could also speak well, without losing the brilliance of language! Suddenly, I thought of a dictatorial and autocratic term—"globalization." Globalization means fully recognizing the differences between nations and individuals, seeking the greatest benefit for humanity. Treating the contributions of nations and individuals as shared capital—what is the profit margin? Everyone gets something. In globalization, we are not slaves, but shareholders. My novel values are not swayed by that unreasonable and senseless "globalization." I stand firmly for national, folk, and personal novels. I refuse to be someone who has been translated. Autocracy and autocracy, servility and arrogance, cannot produce true novel art. Outside of novels, the surplus of the novelist is a citizen—a difficult citizen. He must have a conscious public awareness, more consciously and keenly aware of the public environment. From the smallest places, like writing novels, let’s build a better public environment and make life a little better. We must not tolerate evil, nor look down from on high at the "." A gentleman who shouts democracy, human rights, and love may be a petty person at home, discriminating against a housekeeper. Writing novels is also a moral education for oneself. I wrote The Very Good Citizen Chen Ci Bao, about a very interesting, somewhat legendary folk figure. I feel deep moral sympathy for him. I hope he has consciousness and dignity. A person can have nothing, but not dignity. Dignity is best free. The best fate for the common people is to be good citizens. Good citizens are the least armor for the common people. Otherwise, they face death, imprisonment, and eternal subjugation. Chen Ci Bao of Three Rivers and Half has so much folk wisdom. At most, he can only be a good citizen—he is not qualified to be a citizen. Lincoln or Gandhi are far, far away from him. He is helpless, unsupported, directionless, and it’s hard to say he has any faith. His survival depends entirely on luck. His situation is much harder than that of the brave general, and the villains and oppressive forces he faces are far more brutal. His luck isn’t too bad—he picks up a basket and comes back with gold and beauty. It’s hard to say whether he has picked up a good life. Let’s help those "good citizens."