About book Life And Death Are Wearing Me Out (2008)
Rides the fierce Lord Yama( God of death) to his somber destination, robustly plopped on the back of a water buffalo, waiting to pick the departed soul from the face of the earth. In the quest between Heaven and Hell, the soul lingers in the probability of its verdict. The shimmering blue skin contrasting the black hide of the animal becomes a petrifying vision. “Pray, pray from the heart, so the soul finds a place in heaven.”. The words of my grandfather keep ringing in my ears as I see Ximen Nao pleading in front of Lord Yama. A silent prayer subconsciously leaves my mouth at the sight of every passing funeral, even today, always. But, will my heartfelt words truly expunge the “sins” of the departed stranger on the final journey? Reincarnation, does the concept even find a genuine standing beyond its mythical realms? Heaven and Hell; does it even exist? If there is such a thing as “God of Death”, then why do tyrannical humans play the coveted role with such panache? Hell is right here on this very earth that at times makes death seem heavenly. Heaven is right here, residing within the tapered corners of a hellish life. Was my grandfather unaware of this perception when he used to tell me tales of reincarnation and the mortal sins that human souls are compelled to compensate? Or was he aware of it? The cawing of the crow becomes louder barging in my stream of thoughts. I angrily shoo it away, only to realize that later this year there will come a day on which I will be gazing deep into the crow’s eyes to question the proof of my grandparent’s soul residing within the bird, while it pecks into the 5-course meal that I shall offer on my window sill.Human Chronicles “This is not a personal hatred. This is class hatred.”Man. Woman. Society prevails. Rich. Poor. Caste. Class. Societal segregation. Is it worth, the divisive techniques of human cataloging? To be born in higher or lower class is not a felony; the pre-meditated crime committed on the powerless is punishable. The hurricane of simmering wrath that brings along the arrogance of the newly anointed masters sweeping away grievances, does it then halt to classify between the good and the bad? The fine line trembling between in the roaring domains of justice and injustice is ruthlessly crushed in the race to gain “class martyrdom”. Ironically, humans corrupt freedom in the course of gaining autonomy. The dreams of a narcissistic egalitarianism are nurtured on the tombs of genuine ones. In the game of the oppressor becoming the oppressed and vice-versa, where does true martyrdom lies and in whose mausoleum? Fates are altered; dreams are disseminated from the communicative daises to create a fair and just society. To kill in order to gain, is this a fair and just society? And who eventually decides its staunch verdict? To be born with a silver spoon in a landlord class was Ximen Nao’s sin. Having two concubines and several impoverished peasants working under him his grave offense. Ximen Nao was neither a saint nor a sinner. Ximen Nao was a human being wrongly prosecuted. His only blunder was that he did not recognize the beginning and end of the love and hate cycle. Ximen Nao was a stranger to a world beyond riches. The Agrarian Land Reform (1950) prosecuted more thousands of landlords and as the burgeoning class war reached to its highest magnitude, it awarded the peasants back their land and animals while annihilating the class of landlord. The ideology of class hatred brought along with it viciousness and stringent prejudices that were carried through decade-long angst , eventually seeped into the lives of Lan Lian, Ximen Bai, Yingchun , Wu Qiuxiang and the Ximen progenies ; agonizing their already troubled lives. The revolution bequeathed the power to slaughter the discarded. With the onset of Communism as Hong Taiyue became a revolutionary martyr, the melodious sounds of an ox bone became louder and Lan Lian’s blue birthmark a shade darker. “I’ve said it before. The only way I’ll join the commune is if Mao Zedong orders me too.”Lan Lian, the inimitable “white crow” was not only China’s sole independent farmer but also the country’s lone hero. Submerged in the Communist mantra of “mine is yours and yours in mine”, the commune overpowered the very freedom of ownership that it once bestowed its beloved ‘peasant classes’. In the war of collectivism v/s independent, Lan Lian stood tall battling against every argumentative vulgarity and irrationality that was thrown at him by his comrades and family members. The hypocritical luminosity of the national and county bureaucracy glowed brighter than the gloomy moonlight that saw an obstinate yet, heroic man toil on his meager 1.6 acres land with his beloved “Blackie”, blissful in the fruits of his true ownership. The screams of joining the Commune deafened amid the dense sorghum stalks. To truthfully own a piece of land during the reign of People’s Commune was more precious than the virility quintessence within the horns of an ox. “We are youth born in the era of Mao Zedong and though we have no choice in who we are born as, we do have a choice in which path to take.”Ximen Jinlong in his survival through China’s most turbulent historical times becomes the momentous caricature of every child born and every adolescent that grew amongst the political upheaval that span for several decades. Jinlong’s predicament of adhering to the Lan v/s Ximen class battle was a reservoir for his futuristic incalculably ambitious goals. Over the course of the five-decade long socio-political pandemonium, China’s youth that births in various discordant circumstances become victims to their very own creations. Then be it Jiefang’s poignant persuasive ideologies in the battle between collectivism and independence, Kaifang, Ximen Huan and Fenghuang’s muddled lives or the irremediable anguish of Huzhu that bled more profusely than the throbbing capillaries in Hezuo’s fleshy long hair. The children of Mao’s era were forever lost in the hostilities of love and hate, disintegrating not only under their individual internal conflicts, but also those that were passed along through their parental and societal lineage. The proposal of a surrogate love was as susceptible as the prosthetic leg, for in the end both would be ravaged by famished stomachs amid a humanity drought.Animal Chronicles “When I was reborn as a donkey, I was reminded of Ximen Nao’s grievances and when I was reborn as an ox I was reminded of the injustice he suffered.”Holding on to his inbred aggression and suffering without which his long lost earth would be worthless, Ximen Nao , once the revered landlord finds himself on a journey through several birthing canals of a donkey, an ox, a pig, a dog and a monkey as he travels through each of his chosen ranks of the animal kingdom moving closer with each step to the human territory . The enlightening expedition that witnesses Ximen Nao going through series of animal reincarnation, spans over 50 years commencing from the primitive bucolic landscape to the industrial new age rising on the periphery of a celebratory millennium. Through the humble eyes of the donkey, Ximen Nao excruciatingly views the aftermath of the crimes stemming from his lineage. He discovers the true meaning of love, but not without paying a bitter price for it. Through the trauma and the miseries of his loved ones, Ximen Nao concludes that the injustice he suffered as a human refuse to give in even to his woes of an animal. Life is inequitable and if humans are blinded by supremacy and hold on to fraudulent paths in torturing their own species, who would give a damn to those lowly animals. Through the strength of an ox, Ximen Nao stood by his most devoted “adoptive” son (Lan Lian) and the moralistic dignity that he seemed to have overlooked as human, implements through the heartbreaking yet laudable existence of an ox. Along with Lan Lian, Ximen Donkey and Ximen Ox become glowing symbols of integrity and loyalty in a place where betrayal and egocentricity was universal. “Every pig born is a cannon shell fired into the stronghold of the imperialists, revisionists, and reactionaries. . . ."“Mate for the revolutions”; “Bring benefits to people” slogans painted while alcoholic pigs paraded on the stage for the glorious dream of the Ximen Village Production Brigade Apricot Garden Pig Farm –a flourishing enterprise of New China. Pigs were essential in combat for if war ever came they would rescue the hungry soldiers with their meat. Ximen Pig, Diao Xiaosan and the numerous residences of the 'Apricot Garden Pig Farm' were a profitable business model to appease the whims and fancies of the most honoured revolutionaries of Gaomi County. No matter how much a pig rebels, ultimately in the battle against human v/s. scourge of pigs, the latter becomes a decaying carcass thrown by a filled stomach because even with the grandiose preferential treatment, a pig is still a pig and Ximen Pig a filthy and shameful part of the society. Why do animals strike people? Why do they rebel in their own obstinate ways? Have you ever wondered? Did Xu Bao envision the excruciating pain of the animal when he delightfully enjoyed his meal of freshly cut gonads? How would humans feel if they were castrated? How would humans feel if their faces were painted, bodies dowsed with tinted slogans and paraded on the stage as a combat enterprise for the betterment of the revolution? Oh, wait! Humans were no less than animals too. They were humiliated when their dignity and spirit of survival was castrated by the prejudicial soldiers of Commune. Their faces were indeed dowsed with red paint when they rebelled against the present authorities. Akin to the piglets that were used for gastronomic purposes, the minds of naive children were butchered by tyrannical “revolutionaries”. In the process of creating structure to humankind, man had turned animalistic. And they thought that the mongrel did not know any better, when Ximen Dog was dancing and singing at the Tianhua Square. “The enemy is in the light, we’re in the dark. We see what we want to see, we can see them, but they can’t see us.”Class warfare has been a constant sight in the existence of any boisterous civilization. The venom of class conflict and prejudices has trickled into the animal kingdom. The donkey having an aversion to the ostracized bastard mules , the pinkish Ximen Pig’s dismissal of the scrawny black boar and the acceptance by Ximen Dog for being a mere mongrel are striking examples that exhibits societal discrimination and the suffrage for being on the weaker end of the meted differential treatment. Albeit the societal class-strata, one is compelled to ask, how come when humans boasts of their species being of the highest order in evolution and degrade the lifestyles of mere animals, they themselves resort to their primal aggressiveness and animalistic traits making the rhesus monkey appear much more civilized than the very humans who tarnish their own civilization?Life and Death Wears me Out “Everything that comes from the earth shall return to it....”tMo Yan is back with his self-depreciating mockery. But, unlike in The Republic of Wine, Mo Yan here is supposedly an ugly reincarnation of Lord Yama’s secretary whose obnoxious and prying demeanor makes him one of the worst Ximen Village citizens. Nevertheless don’t be fooled by this buffoonery as this is one of Mo Yan’s powerful works. Akin to his character’s proficiency of being a supreme wordsmith, Mo Yan artistically weaves a five decade political and historical panoramic view of the Chinese society through its trials and tribulations in the course of the Mao and post-Mao era. Every living being, be it human or animal or even the reddish-orange leaves of the Apricot tree, comes alive in this postmodernist folk-lore that spins a alluring web of magical realism encompassing metaphysical elements with satire, absurdity , simplicity , fantasy , yet keeping the essence of an hellish actuality that a country witnessed with valour. The citizens of Ximen Village thrive in their own insecurities overshadowing their survival; some come out of the sickly sweet abyss only to fall back again and then there are some like Hong Taiyue and Xu Bao who drown in their insanities. Once again, Mo Yan staying true to his literary spectacle carves heroes, cowards, loyalists and revolutionaries from the soil of Gaomi County; sycophancy and integrity oscillating between the pastoral and industrial juggernaut and the people of a metamorphosing China fail to remember where love ends and hatred begins and vice-versa. The cherished “little red flowers” that prided in the heroic chests they were pinned on, returned to the earth from where they had come. “People in the 1950s were innocent, in the 1960s they were fanatics, in the 1970s they were afraid of their own shadows, in the 1980s they carefully weighed people’s words and actions and in the 1990s they were simply evil.”In a place, at a time when the vast distance between the extremities of life and death were lessened by human fragility and scornful society; the journey between dawn and dusk was marred by hyper-realistic hotchpotch of heaven and hell. As my eyes were transfixed on to each inked word, my mind wandered through the streets of Ximen Village. Through the rustling of leaves over the Apricot Pig Farm, it searched for Ximen Pig and Diao Xiaosan; the ecstasy of love between Huahua and Naonao; Jinlong’s ambitious words, Hong’s musical ox bone; the moonlight’s ardent follower- Lan Lian,the coquettish triumphs of Qiuxiang , the scrumptious sound of Huzhu frying fitters which would send shivers down Ximen Nao; Huang Hezuo’s miraculous hair; Xu Bao’s bloody hands clutching fresh gonads; the valiant ox and while Jiefang cried for Yingchun, my nomadic mind finally reached in my courtyard. Reincarnation, is it really more than a spiritual myth? I may not believe in its institution, but if I was allowed to be reincarnated who would I come back as? The annoying crow is back and this time I share my piece of succulent watermelon with it and smirk at that cawing bird. While I ponder on my thought, somewhere in Ximen Village , Lan Qiansui gazed into Jiefang’s misty eyes and said:- “My story begins on January 1, 1950....."
I will never doubt my History teacher's taste in literature. Ever. Of course, a healthy, little dose of skepticism is of a clear need, but it's going to be optional, any time he recommends any other books to me. Now, let's talk about Mo Yan's work. I'll never do him justice. I doubt any man, other than Mo Yan himself, would do him justice. You can't explain this work. The resume will only scratch the surface. Any laudatory words will be uselessly thrown into the void. This is what writing is. This is real literature. You know, when you give five stars on this site, you want to say that the book was really, really good and it's worth every hour spent on it. This one, right here ... five stars barely covers how you come to feel about it in the end. You don't count this in hours; you count it in seconds, because every two lines, every paragraph, maybe every page, there is something that seems almost unrealistically good. How can anyone understand humans so well? And how can anyone express it so good? The story revolves around Ximen Nao. Being a landowner in Mao's China, he is forced to give up his estate and his belongings; afterwards, even though he did nothing to cast this upon himself, he is killed by power's orders. After a trip to Hell and not that much of a pleasant meeting with its ruler, he returns to Earth and reincarnates under different shapes. But not human, no. He doesn't get that privilege. He begins his journey as a donkey, then is killed and becomes an ox, then is killed again and becomes a pig, after which he lives through the forms of dog and monkey. In the end, he returns to a human form, as a little boy. What makes this book so special, might you ask?Well, besides the amazing storyline, the writing itself and the deep understanding of human emotions and thoughts, the correct representation of the bind between animal and human forms, the description of China during the Mao period, the mesmerizing setting that is represented through villages and rural backgrounds, the threats that the outer world poses for the enclave that this book is... What more do you need? I can understand, I can really understand, why this man got a Nobel Prize. I don't think it's for the books themselves, but for the way his writing expresses the truth. It has such a haunting imagery embeded into it, and it's so rich in volume, emotion, creativity, soul, that you can barely understand what is actually happening. If you just read the resume and never read the book, you might think you didn't miss on anything. If you pick up the book, read it and then read the resume, you'll laugh, knowing how empty of substance it is and how little it explains. There are moments, reading this, when you are spellbound into really envisioning the action that takes place. Rarely do you see writing that is so subtle and at the same time so pushy. It breaks out of the book, it's not on the page, rather it's in your head. His writing is tantalizing, it promises you things, greater things than you have ever seen and you keep turning the pages to find that unobtainble item. You want it to fool you, because you know that even if it tells you lies, it tells you the truth. Mo Yan's representation of China during the Mao period is more competently written than a history book; in the end, in a history book you get the facts, the years, the documents and the death count at the end, so to speak. In Mo Yan's book, you see the men, the women, the children; you understand their fear, their binding, their loss; you memorize images and sounds, smells, looks; it paints a picture in your head, and that picture does that world justice. Fiction vs. facts, round one. Fiction incorporates facts, by round two. Fiction wins. For the spoiler free review, it ends here. Rich, engrossing and sincere, this work has won me over. Thank you, dear History teacher, for giving it to me. It was worth it. (view spoiler)[Come along, to the dark side of our spoiled, black world! Let me share some inside information that you shouldn't have! Oh, secrets... There are scenes, once in a while, that make your mouth hang open. One, specifically, comes to mind. The savage, vicious beating and murdering of the Ximen Nao, when he was in his ox form.Second reincarnation, he takes this healthy, powerful ox form and becomes the pride of the village. Because their orders were for everything to belong, in a chain-like manner, to the community, the army, Mao and the country, this ox had to become public property. Except his owner didn't want to, being the last individual worker who owned his own land and worked it himself. After putting enough pressure on him and his son, the ox is finally taken away from his master. But he is no normal ox. He is Ximen Nao, so inside the tough, dangerous looking head of his, there is a human mind that understands everything that's happening around him and makes judgements based on that. So, the ox decides to not yield to the soldiers. For this, he gets torture. And it's not like anyone tortures him. It's his own son, Jinlong, who takes it up, violently loving it. Not just him, though - 6 or 7 men take wips and start to smack the ox with it. The animal doesn't flinch, there are tears streaming from his eyes, he experiences human sadness, Ximen cries inside of him, but doesn't flinch one bit. They hit him, they beat him to a pulp, they mingle his blood with dust, they mercilessly make meat out of him, and he doesn't move. He doesn't attack. He suffers. The men, ashamed of what they did, stop at one point. Jinlong, though, doesn't. He tied a cow to a rope and tied that rope to the ring inside the ox's nose. He hit the cow, and it started running, tearing the ox's nose apart. After the brutal beating and the wound inflicted upon his nose, the ox still doesn't move. Jinlong decides to lit a fire under him. So he does. He lights a fire at the rear of the ox and lets it burn its way through his flesh. The men save the rope that tied the ox from the flames, because it was public communist property, but they don't save the ox because he didn't belong to the country. How fucked up is that? Still, the ox cries and cries, but no attack comes from him. Jinlong goes mad, but somehow stops when he sees the ox lift himself up. A miracle, that such a beaten, raw piece of bleeding meat would be able to walk, but he does, and he walks next to his owner, on his little piece of land, where he worked, individually, freely, unconstricted by the system, for the whole of his life. And, next to his master, he dies, with tears streaking his animal cheeks and his body a red, crude mess. His master, Lan Lian, cries tears of blood. Why have I brought up this scene? It is inhuman. It is ruthless. It is indecent. It is wild, cruel, ferocious, destructive, barbaric and of a crudity rarely seen in humans. And it is beautiful. I have read that scene maybe 12 to 14 times and I have come to love it more and more with each reading. It is flawless. The rythm is impeccable. The emotion is undeniable. It's so tense, so vigorously expressive, so descriptive, and it had such an effect on me that I literally felt miserable and sad and filthy for the simple act of being of the same species as those men. Now, see? This writing is what I'm talking about. Raw, true. Cruel, true. Relentless, true. Over and under, true. It makes you believe it's all true. End of story. (hide spoiler)]
Do You like book Life And Death Are Wearing Me Out (2008)?
Life and Death is an excellent book, capturing Chinese culture perfectly, as I can back up with my own experiences. Mo Yan spins an incredible story, from the very beginning when Ximen Nao is first born in fluid from his mother's womb. A donkey. While I cannot recall the book in its entirety due to the fact that I have not read this since a trip in the summer. However, I believe that the truly incredible moments were sort of in a parabola, but not reaching down as far as the starting point. However, much of the crazy dream imagery, such as when Lian Lien (Blue Face, literally in Chinese) tosses the alcohol into the air, and the moon suddenly dipping and the things associated with that. He actually elicited more emotion from me than from most books that I have read, with actual compassion for Ximen's plight. While at some points I was disgusted at some things, ultimately this is probably the best book I have ever read, or perhaps the second or third. Mo Yan spins an intricate story spanning over half a century (if you include the scene at the bridge), but somehow capturing both the traditional Chinese life aspects and feel, even though during Mao's reforms. It then went into the very modern, with January 1, 2000 and the Millennium Baby. Also, one of the striking scenes for me was with the end of donkey, and when his soul flies up after being knocked out and seeing the villagers tear apart and eat the donkey with their bare hands... There are many others, some brilliant, some disgusting, but all incredible. Definitely recommend if you feel you are mature enough for it.(This review was part of CHS Freshman English 1 Honors)
—Gabriel
Life of Pi meets Animal Farm...with a little Dr. Zhivago for the revolution thrown in? I may have enjoyed this book more if I were more familiar with Chinese history. Like many other reviews, I found the section on the life of the pig much too long, and the ending section seemed rushed. Also, it was difficult at times to know who was narrating, and who was listening. I did like the overall concept of the story, and the ending was well thought out, but, overall, it was not a writing style I enjoy. Loved the following blog post:http://tumblr.lareviewofbooks.org/pos...
—Barbara
The descriptions of life in Communist China were really well done, but the development and pace if the story were way, way too slow. I really enjoyed the first part if the book where the main character, Ximen, was a donkey, and we saw the world through his eyes. His attempts at adapting to life as a donkey were funny and whimsical. After that, everything was told through other characters, and it didn't succeed in holding my interest. Also, the tangents the characters went on were distracting and stalled the pace of the story as well. Wonderfully descriptive, but frightfully slow.
—Powell
