Is the uterus a prime property of the dowry that a bride brings into her marital life? Fertility being its most significant asset and a son the ultimate gift of that property. “Without a son, you’ll be no better than a slave as long as you live, but with one you’ll be a mistress....”The cry of a barren womb is more traumatizing than the agony of twisted bones that sacrifice their maturity for the birth of exquisite Lotus Feet. A society, where once, a woman without bound feet could not find a husband and a mother who could not birth a son would become a slave and not a mistress of the house was indeed a disgraceful place to exist. A patriarchal society that prides in its honorable men becomes a farce when these very men abuse the owner of the precious womb that have birthed these men and have constructed the very reality of patriarchy. Shangguan Lu was tormented for her barren womb. In the conundrum of physical and mental abuse where tears forget their existence and misery becomes a friend, the fight against patriarchal sterility intensifies, compelling the womb to defend its owner’s survival. When a prosperous harvest becomes essential rather than the origin of its seed and bearing of a son overshadows the essence of survival as it crumbles in the ashes of dignity and ignominy , on that very day a fertile womb stops being a "child-rearing bag" of contentment and becomes a ferocious weapon of survival. Shangguan Lu, survived the war between sterility and fertility, but peace and happiness eluded her and her children. Is it then a punishable offense to be born as a woman in a patriarchal society? To the female donkey that collapses under the weight of a stallion in order for its womb to reproduce a well-endowed mule rather than a scrawny, worthless donkey, is then, possessing a womb a misery or heroic? To those women who were ravaged not only by foreigners but also by their countrymen, is then birthing sons a sin or a blessing?“We all ate God’s twelfth month gruel, mine came through my mother’s breast..."Breasts turn out to be an indicator of the current circumstances. The supply of milk becomes the sole communicator of vitality and hardships. Throughout the book, Mo Yan strongly emphasizes on the significance of women’s breasts to the point of subtle fascination and eroticism. It is not surprising though, as Shangguan Jintong , the protagonist and the narrator, is shown to be obsessed with his mother’s breasts to the point of worshiping it and later on suffering from ‘photism'. Right from infancy, Jintong was possessive about his mother’s breasts, which ultimately led him to only consume only milk as his body refused to ingest other food products. To a man who has not seen anything but brutal abuse, his mother’s breasts was the only place where he found true love and shelter; a sense of belonging. Can a hypothetical conclusion of lengthened studies of Pavlov’s theories be enough to answer the deep reality of Jintong’s demeanor and oedipal fixation that was gifted to him by the inadequacies of a muddled political and religious society? Moving away from Jintong’s manic worship of breasts, Mo Yan depicts breast to be a symbol of both love and lust. A mother’s breasts that fills with fragrant milk is crucial to nurture the young ones, transforming these bodily assets(breasts) into heavenly warmth of motherly love, a warm cocoon that keeps life’s horrendous reality afar. A mother’s selfless love is imprinted through her breasts as she nurses the innocent infants blurring the boundaries of political discrepancies. However, these same breasts become an object of vicious lust and onset of dastard crimes and endless sufferings."Yes, I’ve changed,” Mother said, “and yet I’m still the same. Over the years, members of the Shangguan family have died off like stalks of chives, and others have been born to take their place. Where there’s life, death is inevitable. Dying’s easy; it’s living that’s hard. The harder it gets, the stronger the will to live. And the greater the fear of death, the greater the struggle to keep on living..."Northern Gaomi Township has been a powerful witness to the changing landscape of mainland-China, throughout the 20th century. Mo Yan artistically scripts the journey of a mother from the feudal times to a modern society where it becomes essential to listen to the woes of your children. As the conservative land reforms are implemented ,eradicating every existing superstitions and orthodoxy, China undergoes a massive transformation from defeating Japanese Forces (1945) to accepting People’s Republic and bearing the consequences of a vengeful political realignment that encompasses the malicious and inhumane survival during the ‘The Great Leap Forward’ and the ‘Cultural Revolution’. In the fundamental political conflict of a burgeoning country that becomes a laughing stock in the name of liberation and peace, the one firm constant entity in Mo Yan’s political saga is Shangguan Lu – the mother who like numerous other citizens is eluded by peace and joy. Even though the war and personal conflicts flung Shangguan Lu into an ethical quandary, she harbored no prejudices whatsoever with her son-in-laws who excelled professionally as bandits, leaders of Nationalist and Communist party and even the sadistic mute of a demon. Mo Yan interlaces a mother’s or rather a woman’s suffering with the hypocrisy of war. There are times when the reader is obligated to question the ethical stance of Lu’s pronouncements. In a savage world where the thought finding angels is as delusional as the possibility of unicorns, how could ethics find an iota of survival? Is there something such as a just war? And, if there is, then how would one substantiate the injustice that occurs in the name of a ‘just war’? What happens when lust and suffering are entangled in a muddied mess of irrationality and the sensation of a single morsel of a stale steamed bun warming a parched throat brings blissful illusions dissolving the excruciating agony of a simultaneous rape? In a land where women and children are not the first ones to be evacuated during a war, but the first ones to have a price marked at the marketplace, do then ethics truly weigh more than endurance? The burgeoning hunger that feeds on your soul, the mockery of love, where sex blurs the lines of humane reverence and animalistic angst, the sorrow of existence amongst piles of corpses, nothing becomes “normal” anymore. Nevertheless, the motivation to unearth the precious speck of normalcy from the chaotic existence which makes living worth every oozing laceration becomes heroic. To find a rational survival from an abyss of lunacy becomes gallantry. Mo Yan, through his intricate prose creates heroes out of every solitary living being. He makes the human body the prime symbol of valor. The mind- where silence becomes a powerful salvation; the hands – that kills and get killed; the stomach- who even though ravaged by festering hunger look for a morsel of survival; the eyes- that cry in pain and delight, the mouth – that spew abhorrence and harvest love, the heart- that never stops loving and the womb- the ultimate bearer of all the pandemonium.“Sima Ku has his faults plenty of them, but he lived his life like a man and that’s worth emulating...."In a thunderous patriarchal milieu, Shangguan Lu pronouncing only Sima Ku to be truly “a man”; Mo Yan intensely mocks the societal patriarchy depicting other men to be a mere bunch of nincompoops. The courage of the Gaomi women takes centerstage with their strength of mind to survive in the most horrendous circumstances. The glorious penis fails where the "big breasts and wide hips" succeed; protecting the spirit of continuation. Furthermore, Mo Yan illustrates other political disasters with the precise dose of satire and surrealism that gets eventful with the fervor of animal breeding , illustrating the recklessness of people in power who rather be busy in breeding various animal species while their own die of hunger and diseases. What is the use of the Women Right’s propaganda when their (women) basic right to live an honorable life is brutally snatched?“Are women really wonderful thing? May be they are. Yes, women definitely are wonderful things, but when all is said and done, they aren’t really “things”....” Women are not things; neither are their wombs some birthing machines. Shangguan Lu was not a ‘thing’ neither were her daughters and granddaughters. In this journey of a mother through the tumultuous period of Chinese history, every child that came from Shangguan Lu’s fertile womb is heroic, every bastard child and abandoned infant that nestled and nurtured among the warm embrace of her full breasts is heroic. For a motherless orphan to survive in a world of anguish and misery and carry the humongous weight of being a sturdy nurturer on her perfect Lotus Feet, Shangguan Lu is nothing less than a hero and a tigress of a mother. Possessing a uterus is certainly not a misery, it is heroic. The womb altruistically births new life without any prejudices. It births loyalists, patriots, traitors, sinners and saints. Mo Yan’s motherland births all these various sons of her soil; some of whom guard her love and some deceive her faith and yet as a loving mother; the Land of Northern Gaomi Township tenderly embraces her dead daughters and sons when they rest peacefully under the red sorghum stalks.Mo Yan was criticized for this particular work and in a controversial debate; the validity of his Nobel Prize was questioned. Did Mo Yan rightly deserved to be the recipient of the Nobel Prize or was it is a mere favorable outcome of a political lobbying? To be honest, I really do not care for such detractors or sycophants. Personally, I have always placed Mo Yan’s works on an artistic dais. At a time when facts are altered by the very own who promise the truth, asking a fiction to hoist the flag of honesty , is akin to pleading the dead to be the prime witnesses to a crime that will never be prosecuted.Mo Yan asserts:-“If you like, you can skip my other novels, but you must read, ‘Big Breasts and Wide Hips’. In it I wrote about history, war, politics, hunger, religion, love and sex.”Although it is not entirely accurate, as his other works are quite worthy of a read, I would not challenge a man whose words create heroes from the most unlikely living beings surviving in outlandish circumstances. As an ardent follower of Mr. Yan’s literature, from the time I open his books, sometimes with a smile, sometimes with misty eyes, I eagerly await the willful footsteps of valor as it strides from the dense sways of the sorghum stalks.
BIG BREASTS and WIDE HIPS : A novel by 莫言 Mo YanChinese author Mo Yan, not Mao Yan, won the Nobel Literature Prize for his writing that mixes folk tales, history and the contemporary.Big Breasts and Wide Hips published at the end of 2009 , is set in a world seemingly remote to the 350 million or so Chinese born after 1980 and the start of Deng Xiaoping's reformist policies. They also happen to be China's most voracious readers, judging by the way in which books targeting this youthful demographic dominate the best-seller lists.By placing much of his writing in the past, and through the adroit subtlety of his magic-realist style, Mo Yan avoids stirring up the animosity of the country's ever vigilant censors any more than he needs to.In a country where men dominate, this epic novel is first and foremost about women. As the title implies, the female body serves as the book's most important image and metaphor. The protagonist, Mother, is born in 1900. Married at 17 into the Shangguan family, she has nine children, only one of whom is a boy, the narrator of the book, a spoiled and ineffectual child who stands in stark contrast to his eight strong and forceful female siblings. Mother, a survivor, is the quintessential strong woman, who risks her life to save the lives of several of her children and grandchildren. The writing is full of life-picturesque, bawdy, shocking, imaginative. Each of the seven chapters represents a different time period, from the end of the Qing dynasty up through the Japanese invasion in the 1930s, the civil war, the Cultural Revolution, and the post-Mao years. In sum, this stunning novel is Mo Yan's searing vision of 20th-century China.According to Howard Goldblatt, Mo’s American translator and passionate advocate, Mo has said: “If you like, you can skip my other novels, but you must read Big Breasts & Wide Hips. In it I wrote about history, war, politics, hunger, religion, love, and sex.” That is no exaggeration. Big Breasts & Wide Hips goes for all the marbles. It calls to mind a couple of other novels of fairly recent vintage that attempt to embrace the history of the author’s country ; Salman Rushdie’s Midnight’s Children or Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude. It calls them to mind, but it falls well short of the heights they achieve. Its ambition is laudable, and its humanity is self-evident, but it only infrequently achieves literary grace or distinction.Granted, literary quality in translations is always difficult to appraise fairly unless the reader knows the language being translated, and Chinese is notoriously difficult to render in English. Goldblatt ,who teaches Asian studies at Notre Dame,appears to be near-universally regarded as the leading English-language translator of fiction from the Chinese, so presumably he has struck that difficult balance between fidelity to the original and readability in translation. The result is a novel with clear if rather uninspired prose, loose narrative structure and a profusion of characters, many of whom are interesting and strong, but the english reader has difficulty distinguishing one from the other because of the unfamiliarity of their Chinese proper names. Goldblatt fortunately has supplied a “List of Principal Characters,” and I found myself flipping back to it over and over again: Who is Sha Yueliang, who is Sha Zaohua, who is Sima Ting, who is Sima Ku?For some reason Goldblatt does not tell us, in his otherwise very helpful introduction, that Mo Yan , which means “don’t speak”, is the pen name of Guan Moye.Among the many convictions of Mo Yan’s that surface in Big Breasts & Wide Hips, none is more prominent than his passionate feminism. It’s easy to be a feminist in the West, but something else altogether in China, where women for centuries have been exploited, undervalued and often despised, where “the cruel reality [was] that for a woman, not getting married was not an option, not having children was not acceptable, and having only daughters was nothing to be proud of. The only road to status in a family was to produce sons.” That is a description of attitudes in China between the world wars; more recently women have achieved certain rights and opportunities, but the government’s attempt to limit families to one child and the wide availability of Chinese girl babies in the international adoption market make plain that old attitudes linger. In taking such a strong feminist position, Mo is very much against the grain.The woman around whom this immense novel revolves is Shangguan Lu, born Xuan’er in 1900 during the Boxer Rebellion, almost immediately orphaned when German soldiers murdered her father; her mother “had hidden her daughter . . . in a large flour vat before hanging herself from the rafter to preserve her chastity.” She grows up under the care of an aunt and uncle, marries the feckless Shangguan Shouxi, a blacksmith who “was as useless as a gob of snot outside the house and totally subservient in front of his mother,” as well as useless in the conjugal bed. In order to produce children she must stray, as she does over and over again, coming forth with one girl after another, to a total of seven before her final pregnancy, which yields twins: a blind girl and a son, Jintong (”Golden Boy”), upon whom she dotes and who is the narrator of most of the novel, though occasionally Mo reverts to omniscient narration.The sweep of the novel is broad and bold. It’s fiction in the grand, triple-decker tradition, Dickens gone to China and finding as much human raw material as England ever offered. If it has flaws, they mostly are those of ambition, of reaching further and higher than the material can bear. There’s nothing wrong with that.
Do You like book Big Breasts And Wide Hips (2004)?
Over the summer I read Red Sorgum and was intrigued by Mo Yan’s rather unique style. When I began reading Big Breasts and Wide Hips I had extremely high expectations. When you read reviews like this is Mo Yan’s play at the Nobel Prize in Literature you expect a lot. After the first 50 pages I thought I was going to be let down. It seemed very similar to Red Sorgum. Mo Yan seems to have an ability to make me cringe when describing human suffering. He paints such a vivid picture of violence that it is almost hard to read. After about 100 pages the brilliance of his style came to full fruition. I was utterly blown away. Mo Yan strong feminist beliefs are very apparent throughout the novel. I was amazed at how Mo Yan incorporated magical realism into a social commentary. The story of the Lu, Jintong and the entire Shangguan family is incredible. In addition the creation of secondary characters like Bird Man Han and SIma Ku added depth to an already outstanding story. I can’t even imagine what it is like to read his texts in their original language. I am going to steal part of the NY time review which stated that according to Howard Goldblatt, Mo's American translator and passionate advocate, Mo has said: "If you like, you can skip my other novels, but you must read Big Breasts & Wide Hips. In it I wrote about history, war, politics, hunger, religion, love, and sex." In Big Breasts and Wide Hips Mo Yan covers an historical period that begins with the Boxer Rebellion and ends in the modern Chinese era. I believe Mo Yan is a genius and a tremendously gifted writer. I read that he wrote his last novel in only 45 days. I look forward to reading more of his work.
—Jeff Volkmann
Antes de falar concretamente sobre o livro, penso que é sempre importante explorar um o autor, pois, é certo, que a vida do escritor influencia sempre as suas obras literárias. Mo Yan que significa “está calado” é um pseudónimo de Guan Moye. A escolha do nome Mo Yan deve-se ao facto dele ter vivido na altura da Revolução Cultural Chinesa onde a opinião pessoal não podia ser expressa em público. Sabe-se também que nasceu a 5 de Março de 1955 na China rural sendo posteriormente recrutado para o exército popular de Libertação. Assim será de esperar que os temas abordados referenciem o campo e a tranquilidade bem como a guerra e a fome. Este antagonismo temático é também patente ao nível textual das suas obras, ou seja, é comum verificar antíteses, paradoxos, e um estado de confusão e delírio tumultuosos. Daí o seu estilo ser comparado ao realismo fantástico de García Marquez. Library Journal refere-o como “O Kafka chinês” e a Kirkus reviews como “um poderoso, provocatório e original escritor”. Ainda este ano recebeu o Prémio Nobel, tendo o comité sueco dito: “é um escritor cujo realismo alucinatório funde contos tradicionais, História e contemporaneidade”. Quanto a este livro “grosso como um tijolo”, tal como o autor disse numa entrevista, o meu desejo de comprá-lo apareceu no dia em que na TVI foi lançada uma notícia sobre o Prémio Nobel da Literatura. O título, bem como o conteúdo, desde logo me cativou e então mal pude corri à Bertrand para adquiri-lo. Este livro é tão bom que Mo Yan refere: “Se quiserem podem ignorar todos os meus outros livros. Mas é obrigatório que leiam Peito Grande, Ancas Largas. É um romance sobre história, a guerra, a política, a fome, a religião, o amor e o sexo”. A revista Daija diz: “Peito Grande, Ancas Largas é um aluto festim literário com um título simples e claro. Nele, com uma paixão e uma perseverança intrépidas, Mo Yan narrou a evolução histórica da sociedade chinesa numa obra que abarca o século XX praticamente todo. É uma obra-prima literária, no estilo inconfundível do autor”. Na altura em que foi lançado, este livro gerou tamanha controvérsia, quer pelo seu teor sexual quer por não retratar a luta de classes a favor do Partido Comunista, que o Governo chinês censurou-o. Isto fez com que este livro fosse e seja o mais traficado na China. Quanto ao título, Mo Yan dá uma explicação: “a inspiração para o título fui buscá-la à recordação de uma antiga escultura de pedra representando uma figura feminina de peitos e nádegas protuberantes”. No entanto, é também possível verificar a explicação do título numa passagem do livro: “O corpo da minha irmã desenvolvera-se depressa (…) tinha os seios como duas pêras, graciosamente torneados, e viria a perpetuar, sem dúvida, a tradição gloriosa das mulheres Shangguan, todas com peito grande e anca larga (Página 163)Além das opiniões que referi anteriormente que elucidam para o conteúdo do livro, nesta obra há também uma exaltação da figura feminina. O autor diz: “O impulso criativo veio-me da profunda admiração pela minha mãe”. A familía que tem o protagonismo neste livro é constituída pela Mãe, por oito filhas e um filho. Todas as filhas são determinadas enquanto que o rapaz é inseguro e fraco. Para fortalecer esta metáfora, uma das filhas é cega e irmã gémea do outro, mas, mesmo assim, revela-se superior a este. Assim, dada já a opinião de outros que não eu sobre o livro e dado o “cheirinho” sobre esta personagem que é o filho de nome Jintong, gostaria de desenvolver um pouco à volta deste, pois, nem em livros de Dostoyevski e outros autores vi alguém que me intrigasse tanto. Desde logo, ele é o narrador de toda a história sendo além de omnisciente, omnipresente. Além disso, o livro acompanha linearmente todo o crescimento desta personagem, salvo em alguns momentos onde há analepses e prolepses fazendo com que a sequência cronológica se distorça um pouco. Como é normal quando se é bebé ele é amamentado, no entanto este acto continua até longa idade: “Jintong – disse – já tens sete anos, és quase um homenzinho. Está na altura de parares de mamares (Página 230)”. A obsessão era tão grande (“Chegado a este ponto, terei, como é óbvio, de falar dos seus seios. Sem serem particularmente grandes, eram rijos e ainda incompletamente desenvolvidos. Conservavam, por conseguinte, a sua forma, mesmo quando o corpo de onde se elevavam jazia de costas no chão. A sua pele clara e macia espreitava pelas aberturas entre os botões, e senti-me tentado a fazer-lhe cócegas com uma palhinha (Página 252)”) que se torna num problema de ordem mental levando-o ao internato. Mesmo assim quando já tem os seus 40 e tal anos ele tem uma tara por seios e apalpa todos que conseguir mesmo os de manequins plásticos: “Atirando-se aos manequins, sentiu o vidro estilhaçar-se, mas sem ruído. Quando estendeu as mãos para afagar os seios, os manequins caíram. Lançou-se para cima deles, com a mão em concha sobre um seio rígido, e foi então que percebeu horrorizado: - Meu Deus, não tem mamilo (Página 574)”. Esta metáfora serve para salientar toda a fragilidade da personagem e, em última análise, tecer uma critica à sociedade masculina chinesa pela sua perda de caráter e determinação, cujos elementos apenas procuram, passando a expressão, uma vida de “mama” (viver à custa dos outros). Apesar de tudo isto, Jintong é visto como a salvação da familía logo desde que nasce. No entanto esta ideia vai-se diluindo à medida que o tempo passa. Ele próprio refere: “-Posso ficar aqui o resto da minha vida, comandante? -Porque é que quer ficar cá? -Porque não sei como vou sobreviver lá fora. Sou um inútil, pior que um inútil (Página 522)” Até a Mãe o critica: “ –Mãe, matei um coelho… Oh pobrezinho… O que fui fazer! - Jintong - replicou a Mãe - tens quarenta e dois anos e continuas a portar-te como um mariquinhas (Página 540)” De novo o completo massacrar da figura masculina. Há outros episódios que revelam o caráter fraco da personagem, por exemplo, quando ele faz sexo com um cadáver após ter ficado arrependido de não ter respondido ao desejo dela de o fazer enquanto viva: “ A inconsolável Long Qinqping premiu o gatilho e Jintong viu uma explosão de fumo ocre nos cabelos que lhe cobriam a têmpora, ao mesmo tempo que ouvia o tiro abafado da pistola (…) Jintong abraçou-a, subjugado pelos remorsos, e, enquanto o sopro da vida expirava nela, concedeu-lhe o seu último desejo. Retirou-se, enfim, extenuado, de cima do corpo (Página 484)” tO livro não gira apenas à volta de Jintong e da mensagem que este transmite. As outras personagens, além de reforçarem a metáfora do “protagonista”, expressam outras ideias. Por exemplo, a Mãe também crê na perda do caráter dos homens: “É um sacana, mas é um homem digno deste nome. Noutros tempos, um homem assim aparecia de oito em oito ou de dez em dez anos. Agora somos bem capazes de ter visto o último da raça”. Uma das filhas eleva ao máximo expoente a força das mulheres e a capacidade de auto-sacríficio para conseguir salvar a familía: “Mãe, dormi com dez mil homens e ganhei muito dinheiro. Com esse dinheiro comprei ouro e jóias em quantidade suficiente para vos encher a mesa para o resto da vida”. Outro tema abordado é a luta constante entre a Direita e a Esquerda Política representada princalemnte pelas várias guerras. Os cenários são descritos de uma maneira hiperbolizada e chocante: “Nesse momento, vimos que metade da cabeça de Mudo Grande desaparecera e que um buraco do tamanho de um punho aparecera na barriga de Mudo Pequeno. Ainda vivo, mostrava-nos o branco dos olhos. A Mãe pegou numa mão-cheia de terra alcalina e pressionou-a contra o buraco, mas tarde de mais para impedir que um liquído verde borbulhante e o branco dos intestinos escorresse para fora (Página 364)”. A fome, religião e o amor são também presença constante. Quanto à escrita e aos aspetos formais da obra, além do que já explicitei anteriormente, como hipérboles, paradoxos, antíteses, descrições chocantes, paradoxais, antagónicas e algumas lascivas, há também um grande uso do tom brejeiro. Simbologias também são frequentes.Na minha opinião, a maior mensagem deste livro é a da importância da mulher: “As mulheres seriam realmente uma coisa maravilhosa? Talvez. Sim, sem dúvida, as mulheres são uma coisa maravilhosa, mas… no fim de contas, serão realmente uma coisa?”Este foi o melhor livro que li até hoje, pois retrata vários temas de uma maneira única e excecional, cativando o leitor pelas descrições dinâmicas, exuberantes e exageradas, típicas realismo alucinatório transmitindo metaforicamente uma mensagem muito profunda. O único problema que vejo na edição portuguesa é a capa, pois, o título é minúsculo e o nome do autor ocupa o espaço praticamente todo. Penso que seria uma melhor estratégia de marketing colocar ser a situação inversa, pois o título PEITO GRANDE, ANCAS LARGAS é de fazer furor, principalmente, entre a multidão masculina.
—Luís
I have read 35% of the book, and am debating whether to continue. I don't know if it because I am a Chinese American, but I guess I don't like reading about female Chinese characters, like the protagonist's "Grandmother", who are verbally/physically abusive to other women family members. It was hard for me to stomach the cruelty. I thought I would be interested in reading what it was like for another Chinese female, having lived a highly prejudiced upbringing, but it just wore on my nerves and brought up old hurts. (In many Chinese families, if you're born a girl, then you're already at a disadvantage because they wish you had been born a boy.) Also, I understand this is an "epic saga" spanning generations, but I haven't even gotten past the Japanese invasion, and feel the story to be too heavy and negative.
—Karen
