Pass through the thick big red gate

Author: Zhang Hanzhi
Publisher:
Publishing Date: 2002-05-01
Features: Crossing the thick red gate, one sees the mists of history, the rain and dust of ages, a page of time yet unwritten, the ink on the inkstone already dried—Zhang Shizhao's daughter, Qi Guanhua's widow, Zhang Hanzhi, disentangles the layers of clouds of time, meticulously recounting the remnants of yesterday's past: memories of her father, the joys and sorrows of the years in the People's Republic, the rises and falls of life. This autobiography of over 300,000 words deserves particular attention because of the subject it addresses—number 51 History Lane Siheyuan; the Siheyuan is noteworthy because of its two masters—Zhang Shizhao and Qi Guanhua; Zhang and Qi are noteworthy because of their special identities and experiences: Zhang Shizhao, former Minister of Education under the Republic of China, was renowned to the Chinese people for his legal dispute with Lu Xun in the Normal School for Women incident, yet he was also a democratic figure whom Mao Zedong always treated with great respect; Qi Guanhua, remembered for his unforgettable laughter under the sky at the UN's restoration of China's seat, was a witness and activist in many major events in modern Chinese diplomacy. Their glory and humiliation, along with the Siheyuan's past "prosperity and bustling cars" and its present "world's indifference at the gate," together record the shifting tides of a generation. But to summarize this autobiography as a Hollywood-style "small people in a big era" might not be entirely accurate. Zhang Hanzhi is not only known for her father and husband. As Mao Zedong's English teacher, the translator during Nixon's visit to China, and later China's representative to the UN, she was also an participant and witness to many major events in the People's Republic. Thus, the historical figures and emotional details she writes about—both Chinese and foreign—possess a certain authenticity of oral history. In the Siheyuan, there was an old pear tree favored by Qi Guanhua, and when he fell ill, it too fell ill; when he passed away, it stopped blooming. Zhang Hanzhi wrote tearfully, "Who says plants don't understand emotions?" Crossing the thick red gate, one sees the mists of history, the rain and dust of ages, a page of time yet unwritten, the ink on the inkstone already dried—Zhang Shizhao's daughter, Qi Guanhua's widow, Zhang Hanzhi, disentangles the layers of clouds of time, meticulously recounting the remnants of yesterday's past: memories of her father, the joys and sorrows of the years in the People's Republic, the rises and falls of life.