French-Chinese Comparative Biographies of World Famous Figures: Volume of Writers

Author: Huang Yanhong
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-09-01
Features: Ah, I think, in this age of fleeting excitement and superficiality, literary figures—this species that was already scarce—will inevitably go extinct like the mammoth. I’ve grown weary of writers who are merely "smallly talented," of contrived "public sweethearts," of exhausted talent churning out stale content, and of "scholarly merchants" (and "merchant scholars") holding out for the right price. When literature is inexplicably cloaked in the guise of "body writing," torn apart by all sorts of "handsome men," "beautiful women," and "darlings," the radiant crown of the "literary figure," which has shone for over a thousand years, cannot but tumble from its lofty Olympus, reduced to a useless decoration on the roadside stall, rarely sought after. Yes, in this bustling world filled with temptations, everyone toils and struggles just for the sake of livelihood, and genuine writing and reading seem so outdated and unsuitable for the times. If so, who would still want to be a "literary figure," and who could still become one?
However, if one day you find that the clamor of the secular world has not worn down your longing for purity and love, if you feel you can still weep heartily and laugh without restraint, and if you still harbor even a sliver of unrealistic fantasy about the overused word "beauty," then I believe you will never be able to forget true literature, nor the magical wonders that have moved your hearts countless times. A short passage, a sentence, or perhaps a single word—all are the essence of brilliance, the condensation of vitality. And those authors who have achieved such brilliance—you remember them, don’t you? Yes, as you stride across the threshold of the 21st century, you glance back casually at the past two thousand years: do you still remember the stern Racine, whose world was both gentle and cruel? Do you still remember the whimsical Molière, whose satire was sharp and profound? Do you remember the author of Memoirs from the Crypt? He now lies quietly on a small island called "Grand Bé," outside the city of Saint-Malo, where the winds of Normandy howl. We can only visit him at low tide. Do you remember the author of The Red and the Black? He died silently, and it wasn’t until 46 years later that people rediscovered him, his works, and his long-forgotten grave on Montmartre, marked with "Alighieri Belli, Milanese, who wrote, loved, and lived."
And then there was the great Hugo. On June 1, 1885, his funeral was held in Paris. The capital’s citizens swarmed out, the streets were deserted, and 21 volleys of gunfire echoed as his massive coffin lay beneath the draped Arc de Triomphe. People called him Napoleon’s terrible rival. A journalist present wrote, "All who have witnessed such a scene will never witness it again; all who have not will never witness it."
All of this is so real, so vivid. Simply recording it gives rise to this thin history. What we hope for is that readers might steal a half-day of fleeting life, glance through it hastily, perhaps gaining a little knowledge, perhaps stirring a little reflection. This is the preface!