Letter to Father: Essay: Selected Works of Mo Yan (Essays)

Author: Mo Yan
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2003-11-01
Features: This book selects over 40 essays by the renowned writer Mo Yan, offering great reference value for essay enthusiasts and young readers alike. It is definitely worth reading. I was born in Dalian Village, Ping'an Township, Gaomi County, Shandong Province, and stayed there until I was twenty before leaving. My hometown—the countryside—has left me with impressions that are both the source and driving force of my creativity. My relationship with the countryside is like that of fish to water, or land to crops. Of course, from another perspective, it is also like that of birds to a cage, or masters to slaves. Although I have been living in the city for over a decade, my feelings remain tied to the countryside. I always believe that everything in the countryside is better, but if I were truly forced to return and become a farmer, I would undoubtedly be a hundred times unwilling. So sometimes, when I curse the city, it doesn’t mean I want to leave; and sometimes, when I praise the countryside, it doesn’t mean I want to go back. People are often insincere in their words, though there are always exceptions who are true to their hearts. The impressions left by my hometown are the soul of my novels. The land, rivers, crops, trees, birds, beasts, myths, legends, demons, ghosts, friends, and enemies of my hometown are all elements in my stories. To clarify my relationship with the countryside is not an easy task. I’d like to write about a few unforgettable incidents from my childhood that haven’t been included in my novels, as a way of being honest with my readers. Many stories portray the "Three Years of Natural Disasters" as a period of utter darkness and misery, which I believe is incorrect. During that special time, there were still moments of joy, though all of them were likely related to obtaining food. I was six, seven, or eight years old then, and I wandered around with other village children in search of food. We were like the legendary Shennong, tasting almost all the herbs and insects in the fields, contributing to the diversity of human cuisine. The children of that era were all quite plump with big heads and thin legs, looking like a group of blue fairies. Outside our village lay a vast meadow with low-lying terrain and numerous ponds, where tall grasses grew knee-deep. It was both our pantry and our paradise. In spring, we dug up roots and wild vegetables there, eating and singing as we worked. Some of us acted like cattle and sheep, while others were like singers. We were the cow and sheep singers of that generation. One of our favorite songs, which we composed ourselves, had a constantly changing melody but always the same lyrics: "1960 was truly extraordinary; eating grass cakes, drinking sweet potato vines."