Call who. Arendt

Author: Hannah Arendt
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-05-01
Features: "I" graduated from a renowned Chinese Department of a famous university. Throughout my growth into adulthood, I always felt hungry. Even after completing my postgraduate studies, I still looked like a little girl. After a series of struggles involving men, "I" came to Shanghai with a man who had suffered many setbacks and looked quite old. We lived in a cave-like place. "I"、、, but didn’t last long in any of them. Finally, "I" abandoned all fantasies and waited for the next job loss. This book is the physical and spiritual history of an author born in the late 1970s. She wants to say—love and sex are bloody; betrayal is one of human nature; everyone’s hometown is disappearing; poverty hurts us, even after it disappears. I love the screams hidden behind the author’s words. That voice makes me believe in her pain and strength. This is a wild, confessional novel, with the core of the confession being a burning, restless body and a rebellious, freedom-seeking soul. The work is filled with both narcissism and self-destructive emotions. The descriptions of physical and sensual love are passionate, unrestrained, and even a bit neurotic. But they match the characters so perfectly, it’s like a seamless fit. If chasing one’s own shadow isn’t a good work, then this book is an exception. Due to the author’s extraordinary sensitivity, the texture of her words is extremely vibrant and unique. The shadows that linger around her become endearing, and thus, this purely personal physical and spiritual history gains the power to move others. — Su Tong
This is a clever novel. The author uses a ruthless emotional intelligence and a fierce intellectual prowess to show her cleverness in observing people and the world. The part that depicts campus life is written in a rap-style, "rapping" style, mixing anger and irony, sorrow and helplessness, brutality and tenderness—among the diverse and murky emotional categories of contemporary youth. In the latter half of the novel, the plot suddenly becomes singular. As the novel says, the last third of the work could actually have the "narrative dam and the memory dam" completely removed, showing only that most important, dazzling "fifteen minutes"—no more, no less, just fifteen minutes. — Huang Jiwei
He was no longer a young man; he was an old man. In my humble twenty years, that man came into my gray, violent, and stormy sky.