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The Republic of Wine
When special investigator Ding Gou'er hears persistent rumors that there is cannibalism in the province called the Republic of Wine, he goes to learn the truth. Beginning at the Mount Luo Coal Mine, he meets Diamond Jin, legendary for his capacity to hold his liquor and fondness for young human flesh. A banquet is served during which the special investigator, by meal's end in an alcohol-induced stupor, loses all sense of reality. Interspersed are stories sent to Mo Yan himself by Li Yidou (aka Doctor of Liquor Studies), each one more mad than the next. Wild and politically explosive, The Republic of Wine proves that no regime can stifle creative imagination.
Author Biography: Mo Yan was born in 1952 to a peasant family in Shandong. Despite the audacity of his writing, he has won virtually every national literary prize, including most recently China's Annual Writer's Prize, its most prestigious award. In 2002, Arcade will publish his novel Big Breasts and Wide Hips.
356 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1992
About the author
Mo Yan
284 books1,335 followersModern Chinese author, in the western world most known for his novel Red Sorghum (which was turned into a movie by the same title). Often described as the Chinese Franz Kafka or Joseph Heller.
Mo Yan (莫言) is a pen name and means don't speak. His real name is Guan Moye (simplified Chinese: 管谟业; traditional Chinese: 管謨業; pinyin: Guǎn Móyè).
He has been awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature 2012 for his work which "with hallucinatory realism merges folk tales, history and the contemporary". Among the works highlighted by the Nobel judges were Red Sorghum (1987) and Big Breasts & Wide Hips (2004), as well as The Garlic Ballads.
Chinese version: 莫言
Mo Yan (莫言) is a pen name and means don't speak. His real name is Guan Moye (simplified Chinese: 管谟业; traditional Chinese: 管謨業; pinyin: Guǎn Móyè).
He has been awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature 2012 for his work which "with hallucinatory realism merges folk tales, history and the contemporary". Among the works highlighted by the Nobel judges were Red Sorghum (1987) and Big Breasts & Wide Hips (2004), as well as The Garlic Ballads.
Chinese version: 莫言
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 296 reviews
September 18, 2017
Strong Eats Weak - in a surreal feast of exaggeration and grotesque!
An allegory on the extreme inhumanity of people with absolute power, this novel is not for the faint of heart. I suggest trying if you can stomach A Modest Proposal, which is short and more rational, and if the (reluctant) answer is yes, you may be able to enter the culinary brutality of Mo Yan's Republic Of Wine.
A fantastical literary contribution to magical realism, it is also typical of his ruthless description of human exploitation and power abuse.
Do I enjoy reading Mo Yan? Yes. Do I respect his brilliant storytelling skills? Yes. Is it possible to get over the content of the novel? No.
I lost my appetite for months, so if you are planning to start a diet, or to try out being a vegetarian, maybe this is for you. It is also for you if you are interested in a literary tour de force describing the inhumanity of people who have lost touch with empathy and community and believe that they are entitled to maximum luxury and satisfaction without respect and care for the cost in ethical values and human suffering. This is elitism attacked within the Communist state that Mo Yan calls his own. His sarcasm is painful, but also enlightening.
Recommended? Maybe. But it comes with side effects.
An allegory on the extreme inhumanity of people with absolute power, this novel is not for the faint of heart. I suggest trying if you can stomach A Modest Proposal, which is short and more rational, and if the (reluctant) answer is yes, you may be able to enter the culinary brutality of Mo Yan's Republic Of Wine.
A fantastical literary contribution to magical realism, it is also typical of his ruthless description of human exploitation and power abuse.
Do I enjoy reading Mo Yan? Yes. Do I respect his brilliant storytelling skills? Yes. Is it possible to get over the content of the novel? No.
I lost my appetite for months, so if you are planning to start a diet, or to try out being a vegetarian, maybe this is for you. It is also for you if you are interested in a literary tour de force describing the inhumanity of people who have lost touch with empathy and community and believe that they are entitled to maximum luxury and satisfaction without respect and care for the cost in ethical values and human suffering. This is elitism attacked within the Communist state that Mo Yan calls his own. His sarcasm is painful, but also enlightening.
Recommended? Maybe. But it comes with side effects.
January 31, 2018
I read a lot of weird shit in fiction, but I draw the line at people eating babies
I don’t care what the allegory is about, I don’t care how artful the imagery is and how poetic the language may be, if it involves vivid descriptions of people eating babies then consider me thoroughly disgusted.
The Republic of Wine is not a book for the faint hearted or for the squeamish; it is not a book for most readers. It uses some truly revolting themes to overtly capture its political message. It is direct and purposeful, but at what cost? In order to show the excesses of society, its corruptions and its unrelenting appetite, Mo Yan exaggerates to the point of utter ridiculousness. I simply cannot believe that the denizens of human society would be this cold and detached from their own suffering in any situation.
They raise their babies and sell them as meat, attempting to perfect their forms in order to yield the largest amount of currency. They pamper them, clean them and grow them for one purpose: to be a delicate treat for the table of the elites of society. Everything in the novel is treated as a commodity; animals are slaughtered in the streets when they no longer have “purpose” as a beast of burden. Humans (and their babies) are used in order to further the advance of communism and nation, absolutely nothing is free.
What Mo Yan offers is a dark reality, a twisted and pessimistic view of our own world that paints all its excesses in the most terrifying and brutal form imaginable. If I could, I’d erase this book from my mind completely.
I don’t care what the allegory is about, I don’t care how artful the imagery is and how poetic the language may be, if it involves vivid descriptions of people eating babies then consider me thoroughly disgusted.
The Republic of Wine is not a book for the faint hearted or for the squeamish; it is not a book for most readers. It uses some truly revolting themes to overtly capture its political message. It is direct and purposeful, but at what cost? In order to show the excesses of society, its corruptions and its unrelenting appetite, Mo Yan exaggerates to the point of utter ridiculousness. I simply cannot believe that the denizens of human society would be this cold and detached from their own suffering in any situation.
They raise their babies and sell them as meat, attempting to perfect their forms in order to yield the largest amount of currency. They pamper them, clean them and grow them for one purpose: to be a delicate treat for the table of the elites of society. Everything in the novel is treated as a commodity; animals are slaughtered in the streets when they no longer have “purpose” as a beast of burden. Humans (and their babies) are used in order to further the advance of communism and nation, absolutely nothing is free.
What Mo Yan offers is a dark reality, a twisted and pessimistic view of our own world that paints all its excesses in the most terrifying and brutal form imaginable. If I could, I’d erase this book from my mind completely.
July 25, 2015
“The relationship between man and liquor embodies virtually all the contradiction involved in the process of human existence and development.”
Ethyl alcohol is one of the most amusing liquid man has ever produced. Akin to meeting a boorish stranger, the first swig is not a friendly gesture, burning the innards as the alluring golden liquid tumbles down the desperate throat. But, the kiss of the second swig brings a faint smile that widens throughout the breezy evening. And, then as the silent third is followed by an anxious fourth and a shy fifth, the sixth one becomes audacious making the blissful visage sprout a devilish grin at the steady stream of warm blood oozing out against the glistening silvery blade as the knife stands proud piercing the center of the palm. Ethyl alcohol sure does have a wicked sense of humor. It vanishes pain through transient numbness only to slapdash the bloody pain back into the wretched palm when the body is liberated from the alcoholic playfulness. Food too, doesn't shy from playing these malicious games, stimulating the dormant hunger into a vigorous ravaging monster. Wine and cuisine, the two crucial cultural pillars defining the glorious landscapes of its country and the vibrancy if its people, enhance the spirituality and human existence of the land from where it flourishes. Why do you think we have mouths? Ask the residents of Liquorland? To eat and drink and let our taste buds luxuriate in the world of pleasure and addiction, declare the streets of the Donkey Avenue. Diamond Jin agrees and so does the horny Yu Yichi. So why is the reader reluctant to accept this fact, like that silly fool Ding Gou’er? Isn't liquor and food one of the intoxicating couple, you have ever met?
“In China, which reeks of liquor, can there be any endeavor with greater promise or a brighter future than the study of liquor, any field that bestows more abundant benefits? In the past, it was said that In books there are castles of gold, in books there are casks of grain, in books there are beautiful women.’ But the almanacs of old had their shortcomings, and the word liquor’ would have worked better than ‘books’.”
Liquor and ecstasy have always been in a relationship since the discovery of the former. The exquisiteness of liquor is compared to the elegance of a beautiful woman. One makes love to wine as one caresses the curves of a woman. Liquor was gold to Liquorland. It was their source of exorbitant income and given its economic significance to the town, the land offered varied types ranging from the subtle Overlapping Green Ants, the sturdy Eighteen- Li Red and the finest and the sweetest of them all Ape Liquor. Mo Yan’s surrealist bedlam is maddening as the corrupt functioning of Liquorland. The portrayal of absolute arrogance and manipulation by the governmental cadres led by Diamond Jin reeks of the sadistic games that alcohol plays. The ghosts of the Cultural Revolution and The Great Leap still haunt the residents of Liquorland , embedding a false sense of sanctuary in the illusionary world of monetary magnificence. Money surely makes even the devil turn the millstone and Yu Yichi knew the covert pathway of patronizing the rotten officials as Yichi wanted to show the people of Liquorland that even an ostracized dwarf could fuck every pretty girl in the town. The legacy of Maotai that was instated by Chairman Mao found a place in the quivering mouths of Liquorville, where materialistic greed and corrupt power brought a hallucinatory heaven reveling in the fragrant intoxication of superior wines and decadent braised “meat boys”.
“Do you think it’s credible?” he asked. “Could they really have the guts to braise and eat an infant?”
“Stork Delivering a Son”, an exceptional gastronomic dish coming out from the artistic interiors of the Culinary Research Center of Liquorland. How appetizing, isn't it? What the hell! Diamond Jin takes immense pride in this enticing concoction of a braised chad; after all he earned heaps of glowing currencies from foreign dignitaries by serving this very dish. Cannibalism seems to be flavor for the moment for the ruling officials. And to come to think of Mo Yan’s metaphors, there is isn't much of a difference. Although not literally adhering to the notion of cannibalism, still isn't the approach of corrupt officials toward impoverished lives cannibalistic? So, why go to through the polite trouble of displacing the powerless impecunious lives for political gain, when like Mr. Jin one could resort to cannibalism and makes the unwanted disappear into the gastronomic abyss. Oh! Is that cruel? Then isn't scavenging helpless lives for power, animalistic?
Mo Yan it seems desired Ding Gou’er to be a superhuman, a kung-fu yielding special agent with extraordinary investigative skills. What a moron! Mr. Yan in his quest for Ape Liquor overlooked the demonic influence of Diamond Jin and his alcoholic weapon over a man who prefers to fuck his women in an alcoholic stupor; a pitiable character inebriated with his own Achilles' heel. Candied lotus root, Mr. Ding? Another serving perhaps?
“A writer should always bravely face life, risking death and mutilation in order to dethrone an emperor.”
The Republic of Wine has another significant plot running parallel to Ding’s investigation. A Ph.D student a.k.a Doctor of Liquor Studies, is an upcoming writer who heavily invests his time and acumen in a series of communicative letter with his mentor the celebrated Mo Yan. Impressed by the “pissing” event in Yan’s Red Sorghum, Li Yidou confesses to Yan that his true vocation is literature and not brewing the potent drug. By being self-critical Mo Yan is at his sarcastic best describing himself as a “puffy, balding, beady-eyed, twisted-mouthed, middle-aged writer", eager to take part in the upcoming ‘Ape Liquor Festival’. Over the course of several chapters, the reader is in the delightful company of several short stories penned by Yidou encompassing an array of subjects relevant to the existing mayhem of Liquorland. The rambunctious Yichi spreading on the ceiling like a lizard, the gloominess of strange nights on the Donkey Avenue, the bizarre inhabitant of Yidou’s father-in-law with the apes to discover the sugary liquor; Li Yidou’s tales plunges into the deafening depth of surrealism enlisting folklore, political brutality, inhumane experiences, resilient swallows and outright bizarre episodes to be the symbolic core of realism. Out of the odd 5-6 short stories, the one that caught my eye was “Child Prodigy’; a story of a courageous young rebel. The young boy who braved the tyrannical odds , spoke volumes of the pitiful state of a society where freethinking and liberation choices were wiped out as quickly as the diners polished the fragrant steaming “Dragon and Phoenix Lucky Together” from their plates at Yichi’s Tavern.
“Birds die in pursuit of food, man dies chasing wealth.’ In times of chaos and corruption, men are just like birds, to all appearances free as the wind, but in fact, in constant peril from traps, nets, arrows, and firearms.”
Diamond Jin’s beloved Liquorland is a striking caricature of the blossoming consumerism society of China. As wine and food blend into a luxuriant duo, power and money make a perfect marriage; corruption the pertinent legality that sanctifies this pandemonium. Mo Yan’s metaphorical post-modern absurdity aptly illustrates the gigantic greed of money and power that have engulfed Chinese political environment. Mo Yan is meticulous to keep the conundrum of corruption on the outskirts of the Central government and focusing on local political elements. However, the roaring similarities cannot be ignored because no matter how or where the seed of corruption is sown, there are very few political patrons who choose not to stand in the shade of ‘tree of greed’. After all, who does not love money? Especially in countries where human lives are judged by their economic status, money and power are two condiments essential to make the food edible. As the patriots of Liquorville brag about the Liquorland being at the helm of wealth and prosperity, China has taken pride in the quantum economic rise of the Communist party. The government screams, “Look, we are making you rich by bringing money and all other luxuries at your door step. Why weep when you can enjoy the fruits of modern opulence?” But, on what cost? Who will clear the debris of wasted human lives? Mo Yan’s chaotic prose spirals down into a messy web that at times suffocates the readers as it does to the numerous ill-fated residents of Liquorland. The exploitation of power, the inebriate pangs of conscience faltering with every morsel of aromatic meat and the veracity of treacherous past blinding the morality with insatiable greed not only ravages the people of Liquorville , but also the spirit of human existence. Ultimately, Liquorland becomes a prosperous hoax, a land where even the industrious swallows know that a blemished nest is accepted as adulteration is a commonplace. As the rich get richer and the poor are left standing on the brink of death and desperation, hi-tech infrastructures are constructed on the graves of human rights, democratic voices are sliced open and wrapped in anti-nationalistic fervor as they bleed to death and people like Diamond Jin become the rising star of an exotic banquet while an impoverished couple copulate to procreate a “meat boy”.
“Is liquor a harmful insect or a beneficial one?”
Liquor is everything you adore and everything you detest. It either blurs agony or bestows mammoth torture. It is a living pesticide. The mesmerizing drops of ethyl alcohol become a thunderous metaphorical saga of a land drunk with authority and gluttony. Throughout the prose the acrid smell of liquor intoxicated Ding Gou’er, Li Yidou , Yichi and that rascal Mo Yan and at times even the reader( myself) felt the need to indulge in my own drunken fest. Alcohol and food is fucking tempting and so is the chase for money and power. Ask Diamond Jin or rather not, it seems that bastard has liquor moths in his stomach. So, Bring in the Wine!!
See how the Yellow River's waters move out of heaven.
Entering the ocean, never to return.
See how lovely locks in bright mirrors in high chambers,
Though silken-black at morning, have changed by night to snow.
...Oh, let a man of spirit venture where he pleases
And never tip his golden cup empty toward the moon!
Since heaven gave the talent, let it be employed!
Spin a thousand pieces of silver, all of them come back!
Cook a sheep, kill a cow, whet the appetite,
And make me, of three hundred bowls, one long drink!
...To the old master, Cen,
And the young scholar, Danqiu,
Bring in the wine!
Let your cups never rest!
Let me sing you a song!
Let your ears attend!
------- Verse from Li Bai's poem.
August 2, 2015
Let them understand that food and drink play an important role not only in the physiological process, but in the processes of spiritual molding and aesthetic appreciation.
My wife and I were about to watch a film the other night when I spoke loudly during the previews, it is becoming increasingly difficult to appreciate film when the screen is constantly being obscured by references: I'm getting too old. My appreciation for Republic of Wine thus pivoted on these gross, overbearing metaphors: A town built on alcohol and the practice of eating of children. Where does one even begin? The literal and symbolic asides to the Cultural revolution alone boggle the modern reader. Consider me boggled and then sickened. Well, almost anyway. There was reading as gagging sublimation underway. I pushed through it, though without relief.
Mo Yan's novel reminded me of Kafka's Castle, replete with sticky tavern floors and loose women. Each chapter is punctuated by an epistolary exchanges between "Mo Yan" and a resident of Liquorville, a doctoral candidate in distilling, as well as an aspiring author. A story from the aspiring author then follows before the chief thread of the novel is resumed. I appreciated the asides and stories more than blind drunk narrative arc. This isn't for the squeamish.
My wife and I were about to watch a film the other night when I spoke loudly during the previews, it is becoming increasingly difficult to appreciate film when the screen is constantly being obscured by references: I'm getting too old. My appreciation for Republic of Wine thus pivoted on these gross, overbearing metaphors: A town built on alcohol and the practice of eating of children. Where does one even begin? The literal and symbolic asides to the Cultural revolution alone boggle the modern reader. Consider me boggled and then sickened. Well, almost anyway. There was reading as gagging sublimation underway. I pushed through it, though without relief.
Mo Yan's novel reminded me of Kafka's Castle, replete with sticky tavern floors and loose women. Each chapter is punctuated by an epistolary exchanges between "Mo Yan" and a resident of Liquorville, a doctoral candidate in distilling, as well as an aspiring author. A story from the aspiring author then follows before the chief thread of the novel is resumed. I appreciated the asides and stories more than blind drunk narrative arc. This isn't for the squeamish.
January 16, 2021
‘İçki Cumhuriyeti’ Mo Yan’dan okuduğum en deneysel romandı kesinlikle. Yazara başlangıç kitabı olmamalı asla. Konusu sürükleyici, temposu başarılı, oyuncağı zekice. Ama bir ‘Yaşam ve Ölüm Yorgunu’ ya da ‘İri Memeler ve Geniş Kalçalar’ asla değil. Hatta kıyaslama yapınca epey sönük kaçıyor. Kitaba bayılmadım ama keyifle okudum. Erdem Kurtuldu çeviride döktürmüş yine tabii...
July 29, 2017
যেই অল্প কয়টা চৈনিক বই পড়েছি, তার বেশ কয়েকটায় দেখলাম লোকজনরে কোনো না কোনো কারণে যমজ মনে হচ্ছে। যমজের আধিক্য বেশি কী না চীনে, কে জানে। একটা জনপদের দেখতে এক রকম বলা ত আবার রাজনৈতিক অশুদ্ধাচার।
এই বই মুগ্ধ করতে পারে নাই - শুরুতে আংশিক মোহ তৈরীতে সমর্থ হইলেও, পড়তে গেলে দেখবেন একটা বহুল ব্যবহৃত কায়দায় গল্প বলা হচ্ছে, মোটামুটি তিনটা সমান্তরাল ঘটনারে ঘিরে - যেহেতু এদানীঙের উপন্যাস, ঘটনাপ্রবাহ একটু পরপর মিশে যাবেই - কিন্তু কায়দার জোর উপন্যাসটারে বাঁচাইতে পারে না। কিছু আশাব্যঞ্জক, কখনো কখনো বমনোদ্রেককারী, দৃশ্য থাকে শুরুর একশো পাতার ভেতরেই, আঁশটে মানুষেরে নিয়ে, রান্নাবান্নার অদ্ভূত কিছু ব্যাপার, মীট বয় নামে একটা অংশ ত মাথায় তুলে রাখার মত ভালো, কিন্তু এরপর দ্রুতই লেখক একটার পর একটা কৌশল ঝোলা থেকে বের করতে থাকেন, অন্যদিকে গল্প ঝুলতে শুরু করে। চরিত্রদের একটা গতি না করে মো ইয়ান অনেক বেশি আগ্রহী পাঠককে চকমকি দেখায়ে মুধ করতে, তাই তিনি এই বইয়ের এক চরিত্র যখন সন্দেহ প্রকাশ করে, অপরাপর দুইটা চরিত্র একই কী না, তখন আরেক চরিত্ররে দিয়ে বলিয়ে নেন, এতে কি কিছু আসে যায়? আসে যায় না - না, শেষে আপনার বলার দরকার নাই তারা এক কী না, কিন্তু সেই শেষ পর্যন্ত পৌঁছতে পৌঁছতে এটা নিয়ে আরো কিছু কাজ হবে, বচসা হবে, সে ত আমরা আশা করতেই পারি - কিন্তু না, তিনি ব্যস্ত গাধার শরীর দিয়ে খাবার তৈয়ারের ঘিনঘিনে বর্ণনা দিতে, আর নিজের উপন্যাসে নিজেরে বসানোর চুরাশি হাজারতম এই নিদর্শনে নিজের চমৎকৃত্বে বিজেই গদগদ হতে।
সব মিলায়ে, শুরুর কিছু চমৎকৃত্ব বাদ দিলে, আর মাঝের একটা দুইটা দৃশ্যরেও, বাজে বই, আরো ভালো মত বললে সম্পূর্ণ রকমের ঝুলন্ত বই। শেষে গিয়ে একটা ঝাঁপ দিয়ে খেলায় সমতা আনারও চেষ্টা করেন নাই লেখক। তবে মো ইয়ানের মাথাটা নিঃসন্দেহে দেখবার মত, একবার অন্তত খুলে দেখা দরকার। অনুবাদকও তাঁর সাথে অনুষঙ্গ বজায় রেখে কাজ করেন বলে মনে হইলো, এই কাহিনী হারানো চরিত্রের নিকুচি করা বইয়ের দোষ অনুবাদকেরে দেয়া যায় না, সুতরাং বয়সকালে আরো মো ইয়ান পড়া যেতে পারে। কে জানে, হয়ত একটা সময়ে এই বই পুনর্পাঠ করে মুগ্ধ হওয়া যেতে পারে।
শিবরাজ চৌধুরীর প্রতি কৃতজ্ঞতা।
এই বই মুগ্ধ করতে পারে নাই - শুরুতে আংশিক মোহ তৈরীতে সমর্থ হইলেও, পড়তে গেলে দেখবেন একটা বহুল ব্যবহৃত কায়দায় গল্প বলা হচ্ছে, মোটামুটি তিনটা সমান্তরাল ঘটনারে ঘিরে - যেহেতু এদানীঙের উপন্যাস, ঘটনাপ্রবাহ একটু পরপর মিশে যাবেই - কিন্তু কায়দার জোর উপন্যাসটারে বাঁচাইতে পারে না। কিছু আশাব্যঞ্জক, কখনো কখনো বমনোদ্রেককারী, দৃশ্য থাকে শুরুর একশো পাতার ভেতরেই, আঁশটে মানুষেরে নিয়ে, রান্নাবান্নার অদ্ভূত কিছু ব্যাপার, মীট বয় নামে একটা অংশ ত মাথায় তুলে রাখার মত ভালো, কিন্তু এরপর দ্রুতই লেখক একটার পর একটা কৌশল ঝোলা থেকে বের করতে থাকেন, অন্যদিকে গল্প ঝুলতে শুরু করে। চরিত্রদের একটা গতি না করে মো ইয়ান অনেক বেশি আগ্রহী পাঠককে চকমকি দেখায়ে মুধ করতে, তাই তিনি এই বইয়ের এক চরিত্র যখন সন্দেহ প্রকাশ করে, অপরাপর দুইটা চরিত্র একই কী না, তখন আরেক চরিত্ররে দিয়ে বলিয়ে নেন, এতে কি কিছু আসে যায়? আসে যায় না - না, শেষে আপনার বলার দরকার নাই তারা এক কী না, কিন্তু সেই শেষ পর্যন্ত পৌঁছতে পৌঁছতে এটা নিয়ে আরো কিছু কাজ হবে, বচসা হবে, সে ত আমরা আশা করতেই পারি - কিন্তু না, তিনি ব্যস্ত গাধার শরীর দিয়ে খাবার তৈয়ারের ঘিনঘিনে বর্ণনা দিতে, আর নিজের উপন্যাসে নিজেরে বসানোর চুরাশি হাজারতম এই নিদর্শনে নিজের চমৎকৃত্বে বিজেই গদগদ হতে।
সব মিলায়ে, শুরুর কিছু চমৎকৃত্ব বাদ দিলে, আর মাঝের একটা দুইটা দৃশ্যরেও, বাজে বই, আরো ভালো মত বললে সম্পূর্ণ রকমের ঝুলন্ত বই। শেষে গিয়ে একটা ঝাঁপ দিয়ে খেলায় সমতা আনারও চেষ্টা করেন নাই লেখক। তবে মো ইয়ানের মাথাটা নিঃসন্দেহে দেখবার মত, একবার অন্তত খুলে দেখা দরকার। অনুবাদকও তাঁর সাথে অনুষঙ্গ বজায় রেখে কাজ করেন বলে মনে হইলো, এই কাহিনী হারানো চরিত্রের নিকুচি করা বইয়ের দোষ অনুবাদকেরে দেয়া যায় না, সুতরাং বয়সকালে আরো মো ইয়ান পড়া যেতে পারে। কে জানে, হয়ত একটা সময়ে এই বই পুনর্পাঠ করে মুগ্ধ হওয়া যেতে পারে।
শিবরাজ চৌধুরীর প্রতি কৃতজ্ঞতা।
September 26, 2014
Mo Yan has delivered a totally engrossing book here. Actually, what you get are three books to the price of one: There is the main story about special investigator Ding Gou´er, who is sent from Beijing to the provincial capital Jiuguo (the Schnapps-Town, and eponym of the book), to investigate rumors of politicians and other VIPs who allegedly cook and eat little children. This is also a epistolary novel, in which letters are exchanged between Li Yidou, Ph.d.cand in alcohol science, and aspiring writer of stories, and Mo Yan, much-lauded and successful writer, who is admired by Yidou as a god-like father-figure. Finally there is the collection of short-stories written by Yidou and sent to Yan for revision and maybe publication.
All of these story-lines seem rather unrelated, and I was at first only interested in the story about Gou´er. But somehow Mo Yan managed to draw my attention more and more to the letter exchange between him (or someone who has the same name as him) and Yidou, and then to the short stories by Yidou, and then back again to the main plot. How he did this, I cannot tell ... it's magical. As is the whole book, I guess. There are a whole lot of narrative levels, and the author finally had me hooked, when a fictional character (no less than an evil dwarf) in a story written by the fictional character Yidou mentions the name Mo Yan, and told the lyrical I in the story that his real name is not Mo Yan, but rather Guan Moye, and that happens to be the real name of the author of this book as well. So it's layer upon layer of meta-fiction and I'm a sucker for these kind of stories.
Near the end of the book all of these story-lines and meta-levels somehow converge together, and the real(?) Mo Yan is visiting Jiuguo himself. From that moment on, things are getting really weird.
I highly recommend this book to anyone who has a penchant for literary texts of the special kind. Mo Yan is a fantastic writer. The language is sometimes a bit disgusting and in some places awkward, but this may be due to the translation into German. I can imagine that when translating from Chinese a lot of language nuances get lost. I also think that I understood only half of the book completely. Connoisseurs of China and its history will probably have a lot more pleasure in reading this book. Cheers!
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
All of these story-lines seem rather unrelated, and I was at first only interested in the story about Gou´er. But somehow Mo Yan managed to draw my attention more and more to the letter exchange between him (or someone who has the same name as him) and Yidou, and then to the short stories by Yidou, and then back again to the main plot. How he did this, I cannot tell ... it's magical. As is the whole book, I guess. There are a whole lot of narrative levels, and the author finally had me hooked, when a fictional character (no less than an evil dwarf) in a story written by the fictional character Yidou mentions the name Mo Yan, and told the lyrical I in the story that his real name is not Mo Yan, but rather Guan Moye, and that happens to be the real name of the author of this book as well. So it's layer upon layer of meta-fiction and I'm a sucker for these kind of stories.
Near the end of the book all of these story-lines and meta-levels somehow converge together, and the real(?) Mo Yan is visiting Jiuguo himself. From that moment on, things are getting really weird.
I highly recommend this book to anyone who has a penchant for literary texts of the special kind. Mo Yan is a fantastic writer. The language is sometimes a bit disgusting and in some places awkward, but this may be due to the translation into German. I can imagine that when translating from Chinese a lot of language nuances get lost. I also think that I understood only half of the book completely. Connoisseurs of China and its history will probably have a lot more pleasure in reading this book. Cheers!
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.
January 18, 2013
Quite brilliant and incredibly strange. Also fun, confounding and disgusting. The Republic of Wine reads like a philosophical treatise on drunkenness written by a drunken drunk.
At first it's a hallucinatory crime drama about the sexual misadventures of a hard-drinking detective, but that is quickly interrupted by an epistolary episode. The narrative then laces letters between the author and a doctor of liquor studies.
These interruptions, which become increasingly meta-fictional, contain stories inside stories, mostly fables and history lessons.
If it were a cocktail, this would be the recipe: 1 part Kafka, 1 part Bukowski, with a dash of Chinese folklore, stir and ignite. In other words, it's all over the place. But it all comes together in its enjoyable way.
At first it's a hallucinatory crime drama about the sexual misadventures of a hard-drinking detective, but that is quickly interrupted by an epistolary episode. The narrative then laces letters between the author and a doctor of liquor studies.
These interruptions, which become increasingly meta-fictional, contain stories inside stories, mostly fables and history lessons.
If it were a cocktail, this would be the recipe: 1 part Kafka, 1 part Bukowski, with a dash of Chinese folklore, stir and ignite. In other words, it's all over the place. But it all comes together in its enjoyable way.
Read
January 4, 2021Y ılın kendim adım ilk kitap yorumu.Bir kitabı bu kadar nefret ederek okumadım. HAtta midem bulanarak. İlk defa sokak ağzıyla bir eleştiri yapasım da var . Ama işte Yaşam ve ölüm yorgunu adına bir süre susmak istiyorum. Yoksa hislerim çok iyimser değil. Tekrardan hesaplaşacağız İçki Cumhuriyeti. Ama şimdilik senden nefret ediyorum
September 8, 2018
*Mild Spoilers*
Liquor, spirits, booze: magic potions. They will make the most squalid surroundings feel like a palace and turn people best kept at arm’s length into your best friends as well as prove you a real man, and not just in China, where it is said a businessman needs a first-class liver and a strong stomach more than anything else and large swathes of the country might very well be located in the fictional region “The Republic of Wine” is set in.
Reading about the sublime joy of getting properly hammered you’ll be hard-pressed not to head out to get a bottle of booze immediately; continuing with an account of the beastly hangover afterwards might make you feel like taking an oath never to touch strong drink again – both feelings heightened by Mo Yan’s vivid storytelling, with similes scuttling over the pages like so many cockroaches over slices of stale toast.
Yet drink can’t hold a candle to food when it comes to the delights Chinese tend to be obsessed with in a way that makes any French chef look like a bumbling barbarian. Considering a sophisticated meal the hallmark of civilization, the novel’s characters feel free to disregard the well-being of their fellow human beings as a lesser concern. Why forsake delicious bird’s nest soup (a dish dwelled on in great length) only because harvesters risk their lives to procure the main ingredient, and why not add a pinch of delicious, tongue-tingling guilt to your dinner by actually serving a tender, roasted baby?
Soulless sophistication as well as the exploitation of the less fortunate ones seem limitless in this novel, but it’s also concerned with the process of writing itself. The story we are being told is soon interrupted by letters to the author, Mo Yan, himself a character in the book: An aspiring young writer from the very place our story about a detective investigating allegations of cannibalism is set in seeks the master’s praise by sending his own short stories. Reading those and then going back to the main narrative, we notice events and characters from the former worming their way into the latter, with (fictional) Mo Yan gradually losing control of his own yarn as well as his characters and the author finally taking refuge in what his work was supposed to be about from the start: hitting the bottle, hard.
“The Republic of Wine” makes a fantastic, topsy-turvy read for those who like such a glimpse behind the scenes of the creative process of writing – provided you are able to stomach the occasional gruesome detail.
Liquor, spirits, booze: magic potions. They will make the most squalid surroundings feel like a palace and turn people best kept at arm’s length into your best friends as well as prove you a real man, and not just in China, where it is said a businessman needs a first-class liver and a strong stomach more than anything else and large swathes of the country might very well be located in the fictional region “The Republic of Wine” is set in.
Reading about the sublime joy of getting properly hammered you’ll be hard-pressed not to head out to get a bottle of booze immediately; continuing with an account of the beastly hangover afterwards might make you feel like taking an oath never to touch strong drink again – both feelings heightened by Mo Yan’s vivid storytelling, with similes scuttling over the pages like so many cockroaches over slices of stale toast.
Yet drink can’t hold a candle to food when it comes to the delights Chinese tend to be obsessed with in a way that makes any French chef look like a bumbling barbarian. Considering a sophisticated meal the hallmark of civilization, the novel’s characters feel free to disregard the well-being of their fellow human beings as a lesser concern. Why forsake delicious bird’s nest soup (a dish dwelled on in great length) only because harvesters risk their lives to procure the main ingredient, and why not add a pinch of delicious, tongue-tingling guilt to your dinner by actually serving a tender, roasted baby?
Soulless sophistication as well as the exploitation of the less fortunate ones seem limitless in this novel, but it’s also concerned with the process of writing itself. The story we are being told is soon interrupted by letters to the author, Mo Yan, himself a character in the book: An aspiring young writer from the very place our story about a detective investigating allegations of cannibalism is set in seeks the master’s praise by sending his own short stories. Reading those and then going back to the main narrative, we notice events and characters from the former worming their way into the latter, with (fictional) Mo Yan gradually losing control of his own yarn as well as his characters and the author finally taking refuge in what his work was supposed to be about from the start: hitting the bottle, hard.
“The Republic of Wine” makes a fantastic, topsy-turvy read for those who like such a glimpse behind the scenes of the creative process of writing – provided you are able to stomach the occasional gruesome detail.
February 1, 2020
Uno de los libros más grotescos y oscuros que he leído, un libro difícil que se exhibe como novela negra.
Mo Yan, que con su particular realismo mágico es capaz de ser él mismo un personaje más de la novela, escribe la República del Vino como una sátira a las costumbres gastronómicas chinas y a los extravagantes caprichos de las altas clases burguesas.
Mo Yan, que con su particular realismo mágico es capaz de ser él mismo un personaje más de la novela, escribe la República del Vino como una sátira a las costumbres gastronómicas chinas y a los extravagantes caprichos de las altas clases burguesas.
Read
March 20, 2018Mo Yan è autore capace di aumentare la mia già accertata confusione mentale.
Non so se riesco a spiegare cosa io abbia letto sino a poche pagine fa.
Ho letto un romanzo?
Di un ispettore integerrimo che indaga su una banda di funzionari corrotti e mangiatori di bambini brasati e che prima ubriaco e poi pazzo d'amore per una cmionista finirà egli stesso per delinquere? Almeno il nano muore.
Ho letto una corrispondenza tra maestro e discepolo ostinato che da laurenando in distillati&affini scrive racconti sull'alcol, su come si cucinano i bambini, su se stesso? Racconti surreali e fantasiosi che si mesceranno e distilleranno nell'opera del maestro.
Ho letto sicuramente un Mo Yan ripieno di cibo, di alcol e di Cina.
La vecchia Cina che non c'è più ma che balugina in qualche angolo di strada affollata e sicuramente ritrovi a tavola, dove se finisci il bicchiere è segno che vuoi te lo riempiano di nuovo per brindare all'amicizia che produce affari, denaro e premio gerarchico. Blatero: manco dalla Cina da oltre 10 anni, le così lì cambiano rapidamente, più velocemente di quanto si possa immaginare, simboli e mentalità moderna imperando.
Rimarranno della vecchia Cina i rossi accesi, i blu profondi, le grandi muraglie, le leggende e gli scrittori folli.
Tutta nostalgia che si riversa nel bicchiere, liquida e dai nomi immaginifici che evocano draghi e fenici, miti che nutrivano la mente quando il cibo scarseggiava.
Mo Yan finirà il suo romanzo e si recherà nel Paese dell'Alcol a incontrare il suo discepolo durante il primo Festival del Liquore di Scimmia, si ubriacherà brindando e così la sua coscienza si renderà conto di aver scritto una storia brutta con un finale di fogna, ma il libro uscirà ed avrà questa forma.
Non so se riesco a spiegare cosa io abbia letto sino a poche pagine fa.
Ho letto un romanzo?
Di un ispettore integerrimo che indaga su una banda di funzionari corrotti e mangiatori di bambini brasati e che prima ubriaco e poi pazzo d'amore per una cmionista finirà egli stesso per delinquere? Almeno il nano muore.
Ho letto una corrispondenza tra maestro e discepolo ostinato che da laurenando in distillati&affini scrive racconti sull'alcol, su come si cucinano i bambini, su se stesso? Racconti surreali e fantasiosi che si mesceranno e distilleranno nell'opera del maestro.
Ho letto sicuramente un Mo Yan ripieno di cibo, di alcol e di Cina.
La vecchia Cina che non c'è più ma che balugina in qualche angolo di strada affollata e sicuramente ritrovi a tavola, dove se finisci il bicchiere è segno che vuoi te lo riempiano di nuovo per brindare all'amicizia che produce affari, denaro e premio gerarchico. Blatero: manco dalla Cina da oltre 10 anni, le così lì cambiano rapidamente, più velocemente di quanto si possa immaginare, simboli e mentalità moderna imperando.
Rimarranno della vecchia Cina i rossi accesi, i blu profondi, le grandi muraglie, le leggende e gli scrittori folli.
Tutta nostalgia che si riversa nel bicchiere, liquida e dai nomi immaginifici che evocano draghi e fenici, miti che nutrivano la mente quando il cibo scarseggiava.
Mo Yan finirà il suo romanzo e si recherà nel Paese dell'Alcol a incontrare il suo discepolo durante il primo Festival del Liquore di Scimmia, si ubriacherà brindando e così la sua coscienza si renderà conto di aver scritto una storia brutta con un finale di fogna, ma il libro uscirà ed avrà questa forma.
October 27, 2012
I would like not to have had to rate this book, but for a reader to write a recommendation, GoodReads requires a rating.
I can see why Mo Yan might have won the Nobel Prize for Literature, because his writing style is unique to say the least. His descriptions are somewhat similar to that of Franz Kafka, fanciful, weird, and often irrational. For that reason alone, I stuck with the book until the end although I admit to skimming portions of it.
The story is all about an inspector who is sent to a mine to investigate whether or not the people in that community are eating baby boys. The setting is in a place called Liquorland, and booze, food, and sex dominates the actions of the characters.
Howard Goldblatt, the translator, should be commended for bringing the sardonic humor into a Western reader's consciousness, because nobody except someone born and raised in China could actually "get" what the story really portrays. Goldblatt says: "Few contemporary works have exposed and satirized the political structure of post-Mao China, or the enduring obsession of the Chinese about food, with the wit and venom of this explosive novel; none even approaches its structural inventiveness."
So I apologize for my two-star rating. It's probably a five-star book, but I had a rough time getting through it. Sorry Mo Yan....
I can see why Mo Yan might have won the Nobel Prize for Literature, because his writing style is unique to say the least. His descriptions are somewhat similar to that of Franz Kafka, fanciful, weird, and often irrational. For that reason alone, I stuck with the book until the end although I admit to skimming portions of it.
The story is all about an inspector who is sent to a mine to investigate whether or not the people in that community are eating baby boys. The setting is in a place called Liquorland, and booze, food, and sex dominates the actions of the characters.
Howard Goldblatt, the translator, should be commended for bringing the sardonic humor into a Western reader's consciousness, because nobody except someone born and raised in China could actually "get" what the story really portrays. Goldblatt says: "Few contemporary works have exposed and satirized the political structure of post-Mao China, or the enduring obsession of the Chinese about food, with the wit and venom of this explosive novel; none even approaches its structural inventiveness."
So I apologize for my two-star rating. It's probably a five-star book, but I had a rough time getting through it. Sorry Mo Yan....
January 17, 2016
per il surreale? di qua, prego
ebbene si, anche l'impenetrabile Mo Yan si arrende al realismo isterico e sforna un racconto surreale che più postmoderno non si potrebbe...l'ispettore chiamato a indagare su "una faccenda di bambini brasati" viene coinvolto in una colossale sbornia, come l'autore Mo Yan invitato nel paese dell'alcol, questo il significato del nome Jiuguo, il ridente borgo (certo che ridono se sono tutti ubriachi) famoso per la produzione di alcolici in cui si ambienta la storia, e entrambi si vedono sfilare davanti una serie di personaggi strani e vivono avventure che sembrano un delirio alcolico...inutile dire che non c'è un finale, dopo tutto è il primo esperimento postmoderno di Mo Yan, però è assai curioso che sia stato cominciato nel settembre 1989...per chi non lo ricordasse la protesta di Tiananmen avvenne il 4 giugno dello stesso anno...
ebbene si, anche l'impenetrabile Mo Yan si arrende al realismo isterico e sforna un racconto surreale che più postmoderno non si potrebbe...l'ispettore chiamato a indagare su "una faccenda di bambini brasati" viene coinvolto in una colossale sbornia, come l'autore Mo Yan invitato nel paese dell'alcol, questo il significato del nome Jiuguo, il ridente borgo (certo che ridono se sono tutti ubriachi) famoso per la produzione di alcolici in cui si ambienta la storia, e entrambi si vedono sfilare davanti una serie di personaggi strani e vivono avventure che sembrano un delirio alcolico...inutile dire che non c'è un finale, dopo tutto è il primo esperimento postmoderno di Mo Yan, però è assai curioso che sia stato cominciato nel settembre 1989...per chi non lo ricordasse la protesta di Tiananmen avvenne il 4 giugno dello stesso anno...
December 27, 2018
Professional reviews seem to put the emphasis on the social critique, so honestly, I thought I was in for a boring read.
Ha! Once you get past the dry format (correspondence... so XVIII century), you're in for some incredible stories. Yes, they are "hallucinatory", but I'd call it that only because there's no better word for it. You get pulled in a web of interlaced events featuring a lot of drunkenness, very weird food and colorful characters. The more they drink, the more it seems like the author himself was drunk writing this and the more it feels like you, the reader, are drunk as well!
I recommend reading Mo Yan to everyone, especially if you don't mind it when things get a bit surrealistic.
Ha! Once you get past the dry format (correspondence... so XVIII century), you're in for some incredible stories. Yes, they are "hallucinatory", but I'd call it that only because there's no better word for it. You get pulled in a web of interlaced events featuring a lot of drunkenness, very weird food and colorful characters. The more they drink, the more it seems like the author himself was drunk writing this and the more it feels like you, the reader, are drunk as well!
I recommend reading Mo Yan to everyone, especially if you don't mind it when things get a bit surrealistic.
July 21, 2020
Me pregunto no cuánto del original se perderá, sino cuánto se conservará verdaderamente en la traducción. El estilo alucinado y medio barroco de Mo Yan, al menos según la barrera lingüística me lo permite intuir, fue lo suficientemente atractivo como para sostenerme en la lectura de esta novela, cuya temática mayormente me resultó repugnante, y cuyo argumento un tanto errático.
August 17, 2023
მართლა ყველაფერს ჭამენ ეს ჩემისები
January 27, 2013
Those who have spent time in China in any kind of institutional capacity know that exotic eating and excessive drinking can hardly be avoided (if one is inclined to avoid). Mo Yan's "The Republic of Wine" satirizes this situation, especially as it exists in official government circles, with the creation of Liquorland, a place that gives excess new meaning. Connoisseurs drink, among other strange things, "Ape Liquor," a drink actually produced by apes, and long to eat the wonderful dish "Braised Baby," which actually is a cooked baby although no one should be disturbed since these "meat boys," as they are called, are raised specifically to be eaten. Mo Yan's satirical pen never quite knows where to stop, which got him into a bit of trouble when this book being banned in China. One of the qualities that makes Mo Yan's novels so noteworthy is the way he plays games with narrative itself. Here, as in "Life and Death is Wearing Me Out," there is a character in this novel named Mo Yan, who as it happens is a famous writer. Mo Yan and the story Mo Yan is writing eventually merge in a scene in which he either is imitating James Joyce, as he says, or is simply drunk. All of this is great fun . . . nicely carved with a very pointed and somewhat dangerous knife!
November 28, 2020
Probabil dacă această carte ar fi avut 200 de pagini în loc de 450 ar fi fost mult mai apreciată. Mo Yan se joacă cu abundența de detalii iar eu ador astfel de cărți însă stilul lui e foarte sărac, plictisind cititorul pînă la căscat.
Divaghează în toate capitolele și deschide uși unor subiecte total abstracte și străine de povestea principală. Se pierde în propriile gînduri. Apreciez scriitorul, are harul scrisului și asta nu poate fi contestat dar prea multe "uși inutile deschise", irosite în pagini și pagini la rînd. Prea multe acțiuni care sunt la ani lumină depărtare de locul personajelor ceea ce în final devine obositor de urmărit. Dacă lași cartea din mînă o săpt riști să uiți tot. Trebuie citită dintr-un foc. Lectura nu mai este o plăcere ci un exercițiu de memorare și totodată un fel de provocare a rezistenței psihice în fața întîmplărilor fără rost ce se succed ca un fluviu.
Pentru mine a fost o dezamăgire. O să mai ofer o șansă acestui scriitor dar nu voi avea așteptări mari. Ori poate nu am înțeles eu aluziile și satira, se poate.
Să spun totuși și ceva ce mi-a plăcut. Cele 2 planuri, cel al detectivului ajuns în Țara Vinului pt a urmări un posibil caz de canibalism (oameni mîncători de bebeluși) și planul de corespondență prin scrisori al însuși autorului Mo Yan și un fan discipol se întrepătrund în mod subtil și bine organizat în așa fel încît să pară că sunt una și aceeași poveste. Cred că a lucra bine la acest aspect.
Divaghează în toate capitolele și deschide uși unor subiecte total abstracte și străine de povestea principală. Se pierde în propriile gînduri. Apreciez scriitorul, are harul scrisului și asta nu poate fi contestat dar prea multe "uși inutile deschise", irosite în pagini și pagini la rînd. Prea multe acțiuni care sunt la ani lumină depărtare de locul personajelor ceea ce în final devine obositor de urmărit. Dacă lași cartea din mînă o săpt riști să uiți tot. Trebuie citită dintr-un foc. Lectura nu mai este o plăcere ci un exercițiu de memorare și totodată un fel de provocare a rezistenței psihice în fața întîmplărilor fără rost ce se succed ca un fluviu.
Pentru mine a fost o dezamăgire. O să mai ofer o șansă acestui scriitor dar nu voi avea așteptări mari. Ori poate nu am înțeles eu aluziile și satira, se poate.
Să spun totuși și ceva ce mi-a plăcut. Cele 2 planuri, cel al detectivului ajuns în Țara Vinului pt a urmări un posibil caz de canibalism (oameni mîncători de bebeluși) și planul de corespondență prin scrisori al însuși autorului Mo Yan și un fan discipol se întrepătrund în mod subtil și bine organizat în așa fel încît să pară că sunt una și aceeași poveste. Cred că a lucra bine la acest aspect.
February 13, 2024
Anyone who has read anything by this Nobel Prize-winner knows that Mo Yan is bitterly satirical and not-so-subtlety critical of China and its culture; although swerving past any direct criticism of either Communism or the current regime, low-level officials and unsavory Chinese customs are fair game. The latter is probably the reason that this book was not published in China at first, but only later after being published in Hong Kong. (Or Taiwan, I’m not sure…) It’s extremely critical of not only government corruption but the rampant alcoholism and strange culinary habits in China, painting an unflattering picture of modern-day China.
The most interesting thing about the book, apart from some of its contents, is the format. There are three lines: an inspector who has come to investigate reports of cannibalism involving babies, an aspiring short-story writer´s correspondence with Mo Yan in hopes of being published, and the short stories themselves; the strange thing is that elements of the short stories creep into the novel being written by Mo Yan about the inspector. It’s a bit circular and reminded me of the cases of plagiarism where elements of other stories subconsciously creep into the mind of other writers, something many writers have been accused of – “inadvertent plagiarism.” However, that’s just a thought…
As the inspector investigates, he’s relentlessly plied with alcohol; as I understand it, the original Chinese title is “Republic of Alcohol” because in Chinese, the character is written that way with second character specifying the type of alcohol, but what do I know? In any case, he’s pressured by customs and culture to drink whenever, whatever and however much the host offers, usually some homemade spirits. (On a personal note, having lived in a post-Communist country, I say that this is not uncommon; everyone had a relation in the country who made their own alcohol and it was neither polite nor “manly” to refuse, the same rule applying in pubs.) In this alcohol-induced fugue, it’s never clear to him whether what he thinks is happening or has happened is reality or not. Therefore, when he is apparently served a portion of a two-year-old boy at a banquet in his honor, his memory isn’t clear about whether this actually happened or, as his hosts claim, was just a delusion. The same applies for his relations with a female truck-driver, a local Mafioso who’s also a dwarf, a demonic child and a trigger-happy security guard.
So, the culinary bits: there is an early short story in the book about an impoverished farming family waiting until their son is two years old and then taking him to a local center to sell, much as they would do any other “harvest”, and haggling over price before the deal is made. This may have been a direct reference to the reported sale of babies during the great famine in the early part of the 20th century where it’s said that families sold or swapped (so as not to eat their own) babies as food; perhaps Mo Yan wanted to say that even if the fields weren’t always fertile for crops, the families had no problem producing some other “crop.” If so, an extremely cruel observation on non-discretionary Chinese cuisine. In the book, there is also a town where people only ate donkeys, dishes prepared in gourmet fashion and given flowery names to divert attention from what was being served. The pinnacle was donkey penis and vagina, given some name like “Heaven and Earth Meeting in the Clouds of Pleasure.” None of this is exactly an image the Chinese government would want to cultivate.
In the end, this book wore me down, ending a stream-of-consciousness that I understand was not in the original but added on by the translator. I understood the satire and pointed criticism, and was not particularly put off by the cannibalism because I could see how making it extreme made the story more forceful, but too much of a “good” thing began to exhaust me. Overwhelming applauded by critics but, in the end, just appreciated by me; I got what he was getting at but was ready to move on by the end.
The most interesting thing about the book, apart from some of its contents, is the format. There are three lines: an inspector who has come to investigate reports of cannibalism involving babies, an aspiring short-story writer´s correspondence with Mo Yan in hopes of being published, and the short stories themselves; the strange thing is that elements of the short stories creep into the novel being written by Mo Yan about the inspector. It’s a bit circular and reminded me of the cases of plagiarism where elements of other stories subconsciously creep into the mind of other writers, something many writers have been accused of – “inadvertent plagiarism.” However, that’s just a thought…
As the inspector investigates, he’s relentlessly plied with alcohol; as I understand it, the original Chinese title is “Republic of Alcohol” because in Chinese, the character is written that way with second character specifying the type of alcohol, but what do I know? In any case, he’s pressured by customs and culture to drink whenever, whatever and however much the host offers, usually some homemade spirits. (On a personal note, having lived in a post-Communist country, I say that this is not uncommon; everyone had a relation in the country who made their own alcohol and it was neither polite nor “manly” to refuse, the same rule applying in pubs.) In this alcohol-induced fugue, it’s never clear to him whether what he thinks is happening or has happened is reality or not. Therefore, when he is apparently served a portion of a two-year-old boy at a banquet in his honor, his memory isn’t clear about whether this actually happened or, as his hosts claim, was just a delusion. The same applies for his relations with a female truck-driver, a local Mafioso who’s also a dwarf, a demonic child and a trigger-happy security guard.
So, the culinary bits: there is an early short story in the book about an impoverished farming family waiting until their son is two years old and then taking him to a local center to sell, much as they would do any other “harvest”, and haggling over price before the deal is made. This may have been a direct reference to the reported sale of babies during the great famine in the early part of the 20th century where it’s said that families sold or swapped (so as not to eat their own) babies as food; perhaps Mo Yan wanted to say that even if the fields weren’t always fertile for crops, the families had no problem producing some other “crop.” If so, an extremely cruel observation on non-discretionary Chinese cuisine. In the book, there is also a town where people only ate donkeys, dishes prepared in gourmet fashion and given flowery names to divert attention from what was being served. The pinnacle was donkey penis and vagina, given some name like “Heaven and Earth Meeting in the Clouds of Pleasure.” None of this is exactly an image the Chinese government would want to cultivate.
In the end, this book wore me down, ending a stream-of-consciousness that I understand was not in the original but added on by the translator. I understood the satire and pointed criticism, and was not particularly put off by the cannibalism because I could see how making it extreme made the story more forceful, but too much of a “good” thing began to exhaust me. Overwhelming applauded by critics but, in the end, just appreciated by me; I got what he was getting at but was ready to move on by the end.
January 31, 2016
Un Mo Yan ancora più surreale e metaletterario del solito.
Il paese dell'alcol l'ho trovato sì, un'allegoria della Cina che "mangia i propri figli", (vedi i fatti di Tian'anmen avvenuti poco prima del romanzo stesso), sì una satira della tendenza cinese all'esagerare con cibo e alcol anche in occasioni che riguardano il lavoro, ma per me contiene anche una profonda riflessione su cosa sia la letteratura, il suo scopo e significato (un mezzo per raccontare la verità attraverso la finzione) e l'impatto che ha o dovrebbe avere sulla società e gli intellettuali che ne sono inevitabilmente influenzati. Il paese dell'acol è anche una continua messa in discussione tra realtà e immaginazione, qualcosa di simile a quello che si vive sia in stato di ubriachezza, sia leggendo qualcosa che sappiamo nasconde un fondo di verità.
Non lo consiglierei come primo approccio all'autore. Sorgo rosso, L'uomo che allevava i gatti e Il supplizio del legno di sandalo sono decisamente più rappresentativi del suo stile e anche più godibili dal punto di vista dell'intrattenimento. Al di là di questo Il paese dell'acol, merita di essere letto e di essere considerato uno dei migliori Mo Yan tradotti finora.
Il paese dell'alcol l'ho trovato sì, un'allegoria della Cina che "mangia i propri figli", (vedi i fatti di Tian'anmen avvenuti poco prima del romanzo stesso), sì una satira della tendenza cinese all'esagerare con cibo e alcol anche in occasioni che riguardano il lavoro, ma per me contiene anche una profonda riflessione su cosa sia la letteratura, il suo scopo e significato (un mezzo per raccontare la verità attraverso la finzione) e l'impatto che ha o dovrebbe avere sulla società e gli intellettuali che ne sono inevitabilmente influenzati. Il paese dell'acol è anche una continua messa in discussione tra realtà e immaginazione, qualcosa di simile a quello che si vive sia in stato di ubriachezza, sia leggendo qualcosa che sappiamo nasconde un fondo di verità.
Non lo consiglierei come primo approccio all'autore. Sorgo rosso, L'uomo che allevava i gatti e Il supplizio del legno di sandalo sono decisamente più rappresentativi del suo stile e anche più godibili dal punto di vista dell'intrattenimento. Al di là di questo Il paese dell'acol, merita di essere letto e di essere considerato uno dei migliori Mo Yan tradotti finora.
February 27, 2024
Fără experiența absurdă a comunismului în versiunea sovietică și, aparent, chineză n-ai cum descifra acest calabalâc. Când abominabilul este înrămat într-o ideologie strâmbă, se produce un transfer de putere. Simțul dreptății este pervertit și corupt. Un strigăt de protest este înecat într-o latrină, desființat de neputința celui care se opune. Mai mult sau mai puțin coruperea începe de la invitația insistentă de a închina un păhărel. Și se deschide infernul. Nu pentru păcătos, ci pentru cel ce caută dreptatea.
February 16, 2018
This was really bad. I don't care if it was an allusion or a clever metaphor, there was way to much violence, animal cruelty and straight-up nonsense. Not to mention the graphic descriptions of ehem, cannibalism.
This was read for class btw, I wouldn't have suffered like this willingly, sigh
This was read for class btw, I wouldn't have suffered like this willingly, sigh
April 28, 2021
Не таким я собі уявляв китайський галюциногенний реалізм прочитавши три роки тому милу і філігранну автобіографічну книгу Мо Яня "Зміни". Виявляється цей автор з легкістю може порушувати найсерйозніші теми сучасного майже комуністичного суспільства у вигляді самоіронічних замальовок на трангуманістичну тематику. Читаючи цю історію можна засумніватись хто ж є її оповідачем, Дін Гоуер, Лі Їдоу, вигаданий Мо Янь чи справжній Мо Янь, або навіть всі вони відразу.
May 1, 2024
One Star? Five Star? I have no idea right now. Split the difference. Will I ever read Mo Yan again? Probably not, but maybe yes? It took me a month to read. Very difficult for me, I can't really explain why. One of those books where I needed to reread (the exceptionally put together) paragraphs over and over again to understand what was happening. I felt like quitting at numerous points during the experience. I also found myself unable to quit, and I can't explain that either. Reading this book will make you want to drink. Every third paragraph of the story evolves into a statement on liquor in some way or another. I wanted a drink after every five pages of reading. Probably why I was only reading about 15 pages a day. You'll probably want a bottle close at hand. A prolific background knowledge of Chinese Mythology might help. Any knowledge of Chinese history and culture could be benefit as well. I have neither of those things. So I enjoyed it, but probably would have gotten more out of it if I was smarter. It's a detective novel, plus another book told in letters, plus short stories crammed in between, all of which bleed into each other. Half the time I was lost. Half the time I didn't know whose story I was reading. Half the time I desired a strong drink to push me through. A Glass of Red-Maned Stallion or Overlapping Green Ants perhaps? Got any Fire Clouds? Love at First Sight? A drinking bowl full of Lin Daiyu Buries Blossoms would have definitely given me the strength to work through this amazing novel at a faster pace. If I had the "mellow, sweet, clean, and delicious Great Clouds and Rain" and all its "incomparable redolence" (I don't even know what that means!!!!) this book would have been finished a long time ago.....
3/29/17
Okay, definitely a four star book. But I don't think I will go any higher.
6/29/21
Still think about it at least once a week. Now five stars and a spot on the top ten list.
3/29/17
Okay, definitely a four star book. But I don't think I will go any higher.
6/29/21
Still think about it at least once a week. Now five stars and a spot on the top ten list.
March 5, 2016
მო იენი ძალიან მაგარი მწერალია. ეს წიგნი არის საუკეთესო ღვინის ბოთლი, გენიალურ ალეგორიებს რომ თავი დავანებოთ, ისეთი სტილი და შინაარსი აქვს რომ კითხვისას გეჩვენება თითქოს თვრები, რეალობა და ფიქცია ერთმანეთში ირევა. სუფრის და ღვინის მოყვარული ქართველისთვისაც ზედგამოჭრილი რომანია, ბოლო-ბოლო ჩვენც ხომ ღვინის ქვეყანა ვართ.
February 14, 2021
Got a third of the way through. Some vivid and poetic descriptive passages, but it's too absurd and grotesque for me, and it's not clear exactly what is being satirised.
August 24, 2023
2 ⭐
Miałam wrażenie, że podczas jej czytania sama była najebana.
Miałam wrażenie, że podczas jej czytania sama była najebana.
August 25, 2017
Here, as in most of Mo Yan's novels, you get a parade of grotesque characters and bizarre, outlandish situations. The main narrative involves an investigator trying to uncover the truth behind rumors about cannibalism of kids (pizzagate anyone?) in a rural Chinese town.
Even though none of the characters are remotely sympathetic, the story itself would have been able to maintain interest if not for the writer's insistence to interrupt the flow every now and then with a series of short stories that get progressively worse, and if that wasn't bad enough, there is also the private mail between the writer of the stories and Mo Yan himself.
It's obvious that Mo Yan wants to make some sort of comment on the Beijing literary establishment, on the way new writers are screened, and also on the Chinese habit of guangxi, which in this case doesn't really do much for the young writer here.
It also doesn't do much for the book. The basic story is eventually abandoned and it all culminates in a large monologue that takes up the last fifty pages of the book. This poor attempt to imitate Joyce is by far the worst stunt, although I suspect the government censors may have been responsible by demanding last moment changes to the ending, forcing Mo Yan to hastily rewrite the final act, so at the end you don't know if kids were really eaten or not. I suppose it might be fun to read all those vulgar puns in the original Mandarin version if you're willing to take an overdose of indulgence from the writer's side.
Okay, the guy has magnificent writing skills which he likes to show off but what the fuck happened to the story?
Recommended for fans of Marina Abramovich's spirit cooking rituals and James Alefantis' Ping Pong Pizza.
Even though none of the characters are remotely sympathetic, the story itself would have been able to maintain interest if not for the writer's insistence to interrupt the flow every now and then with a series of short stories that get progressively worse, and if that wasn't bad enough, there is also the private mail between the writer of the stories and Mo Yan himself.
It's obvious that Mo Yan wants to make some sort of comment on the Beijing literary establishment, on the way new writers are screened, and also on the Chinese habit of guangxi, which in this case doesn't really do much for the young writer here.
It also doesn't do much for the book. The basic story is eventually abandoned and it all culminates in a large monologue that takes up the last fifty pages of the book. This poor attempt to imitate Joyce is by far the worst stunt, although I suspect the government censors may have been responsible by demanding last moment changes to the ending, forcing Mo Yan to hastily rewrite the final act, so at the end you don't know if kids were really eaten or not. I suppose it might be fun to read all those vulgar puns in the original Mandarin version if you're willing to take an overdose of indulgence from the writer's side.
Okay, the guy has magnificent writing skills which he likes to show off but what the fuck happened to the story?
Recommended for fans of Marina Abramovich's spirit cooking rituals and James Alefantis' Ping Pong Pizza.
October 23, 2012
This is a book that you win a Nobel prize for. This is the book to read if you were confused by the Nobel committee's use of the term "hallucinatory realism." It styles itself as a novel, but it is a novel in a innovative style comparable perhaps to David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest. Unfortunately, just like the other works of Mo Yan, this novel is extremely Chinese. It is difficult to grasp many of the finer points in the translation, and the connections the author draws between food, drink, and people will probably be more or less lost on an audience that doesn't have a firm grasp of Chinese society. I'm beginning to feel that the work would benefit immensely from a more in-depth foreword from the translator, as well as endnotes to highlight some of the nuances to open the work up to a broader audience.
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