The expression of heart-wrenching sorrow in our time

Author: Zhang Jie / Country:
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: This is the new prose collection by Zhang Jie, the winner of two Mao Dun Literature Awards. In this book, Zhang Jie records her genuine friendships with world-renowned writers such as Solly Zuckerman and Arthur Miller in sincere words, captures the thrilling scene where she single-handedly impressed the bigwigs of Germany's Der Spiegel, shares her unique insights into literature and art, and delivers sharp critiques and praises on the world's myriad phenomena. The text is exquisite, the photographs are precious, making this book a joy to read and a valuable collection. You probably won’t believe it: the last photograph of Solly Zuckerman in his lifetime was a selfie with Zhang Jie; the last thing he did in his life was buying Zhang Jie a hand-woven shawl, and on the way home, he passed away while talking with his wife. In the dozens of letters Solly Zuckerman wrote to Zhang Jie, his sincerity, attention to detail, and deep care were palpable. Zhang Jie wrote, "His love for me was something no one else could give me, not even blood relatives." This book contains heartfelt memories of Zhang Jie's genuine friendships with world-renowned writers like Solly Zuckerman and Arthur Miller, the thrilling scene where she single-handedly impressed the bigwigs of Germany's Der Spiegel, her unique insights into literature and art, amusing encounters she had around the world, and her sharp critiques and praises on the world's myriad phenomena. Every word in this book is deeply personal, belonging solely to Zhang Jie. The book includes numerous precious photographs, complementing the text and making it even more captivating. The cover of this book was personally designed by Zhang Jie. She tried to express her deep longing for the past life and emotions in another language. His quietness held a sense of gradual distance, an unstoppable despair—no, not quietness, but helplessness, like the days before his mother’s passing, when nothing could stir his interest. A foreboding feeling slowly gripped me. I also noticed how Salot tried to rouse Harrison’s enthusiasm, and I’m sure she had noticed it long ago. She asked me, "What are you giving Harrison?" I said, "Flowers." They were two small chrysanthemums, either with white petals and green centers or with green petals and pale yellow centers. Salot barely touched her food and kept pacing the room. Just as a story ended, she said she had seen her young lover again and had to go greet him. While she was talking to him, Harrison kept watching her movements. When she returned to her seat, she smiled and said it wasn’t her young lover after all, she was just joking. But Harrison still glanced back at the man from time to time. Was this exactly what Salot had hoped for? Unconsciously, I started bringing up light, casual topics: "Harrison, remember the letters you wrote me in the past? You wrote about your childhood in Pennsylvania—it was such beautiful prose, why didn’t you continue writing?" He said, "I’m organizing them." I could hear his reluctance. I thought, Harrison, what can I do for you? I then asked, "Are you still using that old Remington typewriter?" Only then did he show a bit of interest. "Oh, you remember it," he said. Then, I ruined it by saying, "How’s the old dog doing?" Salot said, "It died last year. It had problems from birth and kept going to the hospital." I regretted it deeply, fearing this topic would upset Harrison. When it was time to leave, Salot kissed me hard and deeply on the cheek, and I kissed her back just as deeply, exchanging countless thoughts in our passionate embrace. Watching them walk away in the wind, I felt an inexplicable sorrow and couldn’t help but say to Tang Di, "I hope I’ll see Harrison again when I come to the U.S. next year." But in my heart, I secretly thought, maybe at any moment, I might not see him again. After the great tragedy of my mother’s passing, I seemed to hear the footsteps of death that others couldn’t. To my surprise, thirteen days later, my premonition came true! P6-7