Soul Mountain (chinese)
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"Soul Mountain is one of those singular literary creations that seem impossible to compare with anything but themselves… In the writing of Gao Xingjian literature is born anew from the struggle of the individual to survive the history of the masses."
– from the citation of the Nobel Prize committee of the Swedish Academy
When this year's Nobel Prize for Literature was awarded to Chinese expatriate novelist and playwright Gao Xingjian, few in the English-speaking West were familiar with his work. Gao's masterpiece, SOUL MOUNTAIN (PerfectBound, an e-book from HarperCollins; February 20, 2001; $19.95), is a dazzling kaleidoscope of fiction, philosophy, history and fable. Elegantly translated by Australian sinologist Mabel Lee, this richly textured autobiographical novel recounts a dual journey-a literal journey into the heart of China and a spiritual journey of the self.
When Gao was 43, he was incorrectly diagnosed with lung cancer. Resigned to death by the same means that had claimed his father just a few years before, Gao spent six weeks indulging his appetites and reading philosophy. The spot on Gao's lung mysteriously disappeared, but a new threat arose when rumors began to circulate that he was to be sent to a prison farm because of his controversial writings. No longer facing imminent death, the writer quickly left Beijing and disappeared into the remote forest regions of Sichuan, then spent five months wandering along the Yangtze River from its source down to the coast. Gao's 15,000 kilometer sojourn forms the geographic parameters of the fictional journey in SOUL MOUNTAIN.
While on a train at the start of his trip, the writer protagonist meets another traveler who says he is going to Lingshan, "soul mountain," which can be found by the remote source of the You River. The writer has never heard of such a place, and he resolves to go there, but his fellow traveler can give him none but the vaguest directions. Thus begins a metaphoric odyssey into the hinterlands of China and the outlying Qiang, Miao and Yi districts that dangle on the fringes of Han Chinese civilization.
The writer is in search of the traditions that are hidden in rural China, and as he travels he encounters a parade of unforgettable characters who embody both vestiges of the past-Daoist masters, Buddhist monks, ancient calligraphers-and the modern culture that has surfaced since the revolution: small town communist cadres, budding entrepreneurs, independent young girls grappling with parochial repression. The two worlds exist uneasily as one, with stories and customs from centuries past colliding with a world of televisions, automobiles, and technology. All is permeated by the dark legacy of the Cultural Revolution, the encroachment of ecological damage, and the harsh monetary realities of everyday life in contemporary China.
SOUL MOUNTAIN is a dazzling work of the imagination, where classic fables merge with tales of modern cruelty and ancient philosophy does battle with existentialism. But Gao goes deeper still as he explores notions of the devastation of the self at the hands of social expectations. He continually shifts his narrative voice as the "I" of the writer becomes the "you" of an imagined companion, then the "she" of a woman companion. Yet all reflects back on the protagonist, who craves these two seemingly contradictory ends-the solitude necessary for nurturing the self and the anxiety-provoking warmth of human society.
Gao began this novel in the mid-eighties, then carried the manuscript with him when he fled China in 1987. Now living in Paris, he completed the book there in 1989. His writings continue to be banned in his native country. As Gao's work at last gains the public's attention here in the West, SOUL MOUNTAIN provides a dazzling introduction to the achievement of one of contemporary literature's acknowledged masters.
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桥头摆着两趟小吃摊子。你在左边吃一碗豆腐脑,那种细嫩可口作料齐全走街串巷到处叫卖一度绝迹如今又父业子传的豆腐脑,你在右边又吃了两个从炉膛里现夹出来热呼呼香喷喷的芝麻葱油烧饼,你还又在,在哪一边已经弄不清楚了,吃了一颗颗比珍珠大不了许多甜滋滋的酒酿元宵。你当然不像游西湖的 马二 先生那样迂腐,却也有不坏的胃口。你品尝祖先的这些吃食,听吃主和小贩们搭讪,他们大都是本地的熟人,你也想用这温款的乡音同他们套点近乎,也想同他们融成一片。你长久生活在都市里,需要有种故乡的感觉,你希望有个故乡,给你点寄托,好回到孩提时代,捡回漫失了的记忆。
你终于在桥这边还铺着青石板的老街上找到一家旅店,楼板都拖洗过了,还算干净。你要了个小单间,里面放了张铺板,铺了一张竹席子。一床灰棉线毯子,不知是洗不干净还就是它本色,你压在竹席子底下,扔开了油腻的枕头,好在天热,你不必铺盖。你此刻需要的是搁下变得沉重的旅行袋,洗一洗满身的尘土和汗味,赤膊在铺上仰面躺下,叉开两脚。你隔壁在吆三喝四,有人玩牌,摸牌和甩牌都听得一清二楚。只一板之隔,从捅破了的糊墙纸缝里,可以看见虚虚晃晃几个赤膊的汉子。你也并不疲倦得就能入睡,敲了敲板壁,隔壁却哄了起来。他们哄的并不是你,是他们自己,有赢家和输家,总是输的在赖帐。他们在旅馆里公然聚赌,房里板壁上就贴着县公安局的通告,明令禁止一是赌博,二是卖淫。你倒想看看法令在这里究竟起不起效应。你穿上衣服,到走廊上,敲了敲半掩的房门。敲与不敲都一个样,里面照样哈喝,并没有人答理。你干脆推门进去,围坐在当中的一块铺板上的四条汉子都转身望你,吃惊的并不是他们,恰恰是你自己。四个人四张怪相,脸上都贴的纸条,有横贴在眉头上的,也有贴在嘴唇鼻子和面颊上的,看上去又可恶又可笑。可他们没有笑,只望着你,是你打扰了他们,显然有些恼怒。
"噢,你们在玩牌呢,"你只好表示歉意。
他们便继续甩着牌。这是一种长长的纸牌,印着像麻将一样的红黑点子,还有天门和地牢。输的由赢家来罚,撕一角报纸贴在对方指定的部位。这纯粹是一种恶作剧,一种发泄,抑或是输赢结帐时的记号,赌家约定,外人无从知晓。
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