Fragmented fear

Author: Jiang Hao
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2003-01-01
Features: Fragmented Fear is a part of the "Post-Essay Series," authored by Jiang Hao. Fragmented Fear highlights the linguistic nature of essays. It dissolves the prescribed boundaries of the essay genre for meaning, emphasizing the generative function of language itself. The generation of meaning stems from the split between the signifier and the signified in language—it may be a verbal interpretation of a word, or the construction of a word labyrinth through language, thereby generating dazzling meaning. Jiang Hao's experience in writing poetry has made him more attentive to the expressive methods of poetry and the pursuit of poetic meaning in essays. The poetry presented in Fragmented Fear differs from that in The Address of the Soul; it more prominently focuses on the universal emotions of humanity—loneliness, indifference, despair, fear, and sorrow. The themes he speaks of are not rural and simple sentiments but are deeply imbued with religious undertones, giving his language a prophetic flavor. Some of his essays directly imitate the style of the Old Testament, describing his of the human spiritual state through fragmented language. In his analysis of personal emotions, the author also frequently exhibits a Christ-like compassion. Fear is the backdrop of the author's soul, and in the fragmented narrative style of the entire book, the author constantly appears in the narration. The book is written from the perspective of his personal psyche. The content and thematic connections between chapters are not very strong, but if you view it as a confessional book, you will discover the hidden undercurrent of passion within. This undercurrent, accompanied by exquisite and concise language, directly points to the human heart. His language differs greatly from that of the other authors in the series. While they retain consideration for the narrative and linguistic independence of essays while pursuing poetic expression, Jiang Hao's language completely abandons the genre. He blurs the boundaries between essays and poetry, allowing his text to wander between the two, which, in turn, liberates the author's writing freedom to a greater extent. As a book with a unique style, Fragmented Fear exists largely for poetry and essays. Those prophetic lines are not deconstructive writing in a postmodern style but rather an imitation of Roland Barthes' writing, from which one can sense the sincerity and compassion of a poet, his pain and pursuit. The book stands out in both language style and genre.
Heavyweight Book Review: The Thought Fragments of a Recluse
The next time I saw the name of Sichuan poet Jiang Hao was in a very well-edited independent publication, where he was one of the editors. This independent publication was called The Intellectuals, encompassing a wide range of content—novels, poetry, essays, and intellectual discussions—all interwoven with the main theme of the intellectuals' cries from the grassroots and sharp thoughts. Later, when I met Jiang Hao, I learned that such a good independent publication had ceased after only two issues, which was truly a pity. My friend Wang Yi once said, "Scholars like me would not have appeared without the internet. The concepts of 'independent scholars,' 'independent academia,' and even 'independent thought' would not have existed without the internet. Because you had no space to speak." In reality, Wang Yi's words are not entirely correct. At least, even before the internet, one could still find unconventional texts that were not accepted by the mainstream in independent publications. Later, Jiang Hao retreated to Hainan and we had some interactions. At this time, Jiang Hao was deeply immersed in the reading of traditional culture, exerting great effort in ancient books. Baihua Literature and Art Press once launched a series called "Post-Essay Series," and among the authors were a few friends of mine. This is how I learned that Jiang Hao was also included, with his book titled Fragmented Fear. Opening Fragmented Fear, I found it to be a collection of thought fragments or, perhaps, poetic fragments of extraordinary ideas. Clearly, the author has an almost obsessive fondness for writing on this subject. The author himself claims, "Fragments. Fragments. I like this way of expressing it. Like small. Flying knives. It often unintentionally reveals a person's inner thoughts." In this fragmented writing style, the author demonstrates extraordinary insight, deeply penetrating the surface of things, revealing their essence. In writing into the darkness, he reaches the core of words, truly achieving a carnival of words. Fragmented Fear is divided into five parts: "The Balcony Reaching into the Night," "Listening," "Notes from Dongpo Village," "Chengdu Memories," and "Last, You Say." This division has no substantial meaning in terms of content. In the poet's monologue, his only focus is the approach to words, approaching them again and again, until he reaches the source of their truth. The author's writing may seem chaotic, but Roland Barthes once said, "Chaos is also a form of beauty." The poet Jiang Hao, in this seemingly chaotic fragmented writing, explores the depths of words, just as critic Jing Wendong remarked, "It is not so much that Jiang Hao is condemning language and the 'dark abyss' of language, but rather that he expresses his amazement and gratitude in the face of the mystery of language." However, "a person who is devoted to darkness will ultimately be consumed by darkness." So, how does the poet Jiang Hao face this fate? What is a poet? The great British poet Shelley said, "A poet is the world's unacknowledged legislator." In a certain sense, it is not so much that Jiang Hao's Fragmented Fear is an essay collection, but rather a poetry collection. The strong obsession with words throughout the book is the poet's way of thinking, "Angels often descend in the dead of night." From this, I read the author's poetic temperament that flows throughout the book—a deep sensitivity to things, a profound awareness of feelings, a sharp wisdom of self-deconstruction, and an extraordinary talent for entertaining oneself with dreams. These fragments of inner thoughts, like the flowers of an angel, scatter beautifully, leaving us who pick up these fragments deeply amazed. Perhaps these fragments are the shortcut to entering this existence. This may prove the saying of scholar Basile Mroum, "Fragments are the only form I trust." Jiang Hao says, "Writing helps me alleviate guilt." But can words resist the invasion of darkness? Reaching the depths of darkness through the shortcut of fragments—the very place of great light. It can be said that Fragmented Fear fulfills part of the author's wishes, but to fully achieve it is certainly not possible. Words themselves form obstacles, as the Zen door says, "All phenomena are illusory. If you see phenomena as non-phenomena, you will see the Buddha-nature." It also says, "The Dharma spoken by the Buddha cannot be taken or said, is not illegal, and is not illegal." Relying on words to build an inner world of words is merely like the moon in water or flowers in a mirror. Without relying on words, to see enlightenment is to fall into nothingness. In this dilemma, we cannot fully trust words. "Fear. Fear." I truly feel Jiang Hao's anxiety. "Language is a cage," and indeed it is. Jiang Hao's "fragments" may be closer to what Heidegger called "the language that manifests itself." "Thought—the entire dignity of humanity lies in thought." (Pascal) Despite the various veils of language and words, we cannot abandon "language and words." We still need to demonstrate "human dignity" within "language and words." All of Jiang Hao's words in Fragmented Fear are actually to resist the fear in his heart. Therefore, scholar Wang Yi once said, "Use words to overcome the fear in our hearts." Ecclesiastes says, "If a person does not have God, he will fall into ignorance of everything and into unavoidable misfortune." In our country, where God is considered insignificant, how is thought possible? How can fragments reach the shortcut to speaking with God? Everything remains unknown. Mysterious. Incomprehensible mystery. I seem to understand the true meaning of Jiang Hao's "fragments" as spoken by the poet. "In the depths of each word, I participated in my birth." In Fragmented Fear, I see the similarities between Jiang Hao and Henry Bosco. Henry Bosco claimed, "I have my amulet: words." Jiang Hao's "fragments" stem from "murmuring memories," and in this highly personal memory, Jiang Hao restores the "inner dreamlike quality" that words have lost. Gaston Bachelard said, "I must dream more, dream in the very vitality of language, to feel how humanity can, as Proudhon put it, 'endow his speech with gender.'" Words may be a dawn, or even a reliable hiding place; or words are a dream, "Fragmented Fear" condenses the dream of words, and because of the dream, it becomes great. In a season of words. Essay is the most free genre, perhaps this is why Jiang Hao chose this form to write. In an era that extremely pursues material interests, the recluse Jiang Hao is deeply respected. According to Jiang Hao himself, he has even greater dreams for words. The island retreat may be a "necessary beginning" for the writer Jiang Hao. He will not stop at "Fragmented Fear." With Jiang Hao's talent, he can indeed write even more outstanding works. Recently, I have read more Buddhist scriptures, and my mind has become dim. I think that words are an obstacle. Reading Jiang Hao's Fragmented Fear in this state of mind, I must feel a certain detachment, and I ask the author for forgiveness. To avoid completely nihilating the beautiful and splendid chapters of the world, I still decided to use words to establish my reading reflections. It seems that escaping the cage of words is not an easy task. Just as it is foreseeable that in the near future, we cannot escape language. Fear is the backdrop of the author's soul, in the fragmented narrative style of the entire book, hidden is a passionate undercurrent, this undercurrent, accompanied by exquisite and concise language, points directly to the human heart. It contains a poet's concern for the universal emotions of humanity—loneliness, indifference, despair, fear, and sorrow. The themes he speaks of are deeply imbued with religious undertones, giving his language a prophetic flavor. Fragmented Fear exists largely for poetry and essays, from which one can feel the sincerity and compassion of a poet, his pain and pursuit.