20 Fragments of a Ravenous Youth
by Xiaolu Guo
Beijing, Communist China, Late 20th Century. And yet somehow, in this worker's utopia, The American Dream attracts thousands of young film extras to the bustling city.
It is here that the narrator and protagonist of the novel lives out what she chooses to be her youth. Well, what Fenfang means by youth is from when she left home at the age of 17. Her home being an obscure and simple village that apparently cannot be found in the map of China. Her motivation behind leaving for the city is made quite clear:
This is from Fragment Seven of the short and sweet novel, the other nineteen are just as poignant, revealing and heartbreaking. Xiaolu Gu, in the space of twenty short segments, thus creates a beautiful condensation of adventures and experiences behind the transition from childhood to adulthood. But what makes the novel so memorable is the strength of Fenfang the main character. For example, her obsession with Western movies and novels and her constant reference to God as 'the Heavenly Bastard In The Sky.' The supporting characters are also particularly amusing to read about thanks to Fenfang's humorous descriptions and dialogue.
The biggest highlight of the novel however are the constant hits of profundity in almost every chapter. One gets the impression that every fragment is actually a stanza that contributes to a greater, subtle whole. It is also impressive how both subtlety and directness are used effectively throughout the book- it doesn't give everything away, but it doesn't try to [bs] you either:
Anyhow, there's plenty to learn from this exploration of memory and self- plus the translation is simple but wonderfully brilliant. The whole thing made me happy because it was poignant but not difficult: hence it was a perfect way to start and end the week.
by Xiaolu Guo
Beijing, Communist China, Late 20th Century. And yet somehow, in this worker's utopia, The American Dream attracts thousands of young film extras to the bustling city.
It is here that the narrator and protagonist of the novel lives out what she chooses to be her youth. Well, what Fenfang means by youth is from when she left home at the age of 17. Her home being an obscure and simple village that apparently cannot be found in the map of China. Her motivation behind leaving for the city is made quite clear:
'From the window, I could make out every single leaf on every single sweet potato plant. Each leaf had shuddered in the wind on any given yesterday. Each cloud drifting overhead had blown across those skies the year before. Nothing changed, and nothing could change. The world felt frozen in front of me, like a family photo trapped in a frame. This landscape had imprisoned me since I was born.'
This is from Fragment Seven of the short and sweet novel, the other nineteen are just as poignant, revealing and heartbreaking. Xiaolu Gu, in the space of twenty short segments, thus creates a beautiful condensation of adventures and experiences behind the transition from childhood to adulthood. But what makes the novel so memorable is the strength of Fenfang the main character. For example, her obsession with Western movies and novels and her constant reference to God as 'the Heavenly Bastard In The Sky.' The supporting characters are also particularly amusing to read about thanks to Fenfang's humorous descriptions and dialogue.
The biggest highlight of the novel however are the constant hits of profundity in almost every chapter. One gets the impression that every fragment is actually a stanza that contributes to a greater, subtle whole. It is also impressive how both subtlety and directness are used effectively throughout the book- it doesn't give everything away, but it doesn't try to [bs] you either:
'People always say it's harder to heal a wounded heart than a wounded body. Bullshit. It's exactly the opposite- a wounded body takes much longer to heal. A wounded heart is nothing but ashes of memories. But the body is everything. The body is blood and veins and cells and nerves. A wounded body is when, after leaving a man you've lived with for three years, you curl up on your side of the bed as if there's still somebody beside you. That is a wounded body: a body that feels connected to someone who is no longer there.'
Anyhow, there's plenty to learn from this exploration of memory and self- plus the translation is simple but wonderfully brilliant. The whole thing made me happy because it was poignant but not difficult: hence it was a perfect way to start and end the week.
'I recalled what Huizi said to me: 'Fenfang, never look back to the past, never regret, even if there is emptiness ahead..' But I couldn't help it. Sometimes I would rather look back if it meant that I could feel something in my heart, even something sad. Sadness was better than emptiness.'
