This is the fifth entry in our series covering all twenty-five Reading the World 2008 titles. (We’re 20% of the way there!) Write-ups of the other titles can be found here. And information about the Reading the World program—a special collaboration between publishers and independent booksellers to promote literature in translation throughout the month of June—is available at the official RTW website.
The Corpse Walker is one of the few titles in Reading the World history that’s nonfiction. Voices from Chernobyl by Svetlana Alexievich was part of the program a few years back (the same year it won the National Book Critics Circle Award for Nonfiction). Similar to Voices, Corpse Walker is a collection of oral histories. In this case, Liao Yiwu interviewed twenty-seven ordinary Chinese citizens from the “bottom of Chinese society: people for whom the ‘new’ China—the China of economic growth and gloablization—is no more beneficial than the old.”
With a good writer as interviewer, these sorts of books can be incredibly interesting and enjoyable. And in this case, thelist of people interviewed sounds fascinatingl:
Here are a professional mourner, a trafficker in humans, a leper, an abbot, a retired government official, a former landowner, a mortician, a fen shui master, a former Red Guard, a political prisoner, a village teacher, a blind street musician, a Falun Gong practitioner, and many others [. . .]
Liao Yiwu himself is a pretty interesting guy. According to the flap copy, he spent four years in prison for writing an epic poem condemning the killings on Tiananmen Square.
Liao’s interviewees, most of them having no place in the official history nor voices that can reach a wide audience, prove to be among the best storytellers from the country. Reading The Corpse Walker is like walking with Liao: Even though our feet are not blistered and our bodies are not starved, in the end we are shaken and moved.
The World: Are works of non-fiction regularly censored in China?
Huang: “The Corpse Walker” was published and banned in 2002. But today a growing number of non-fiction works are published without interference from the police, even though some of these books criticize corruption in the government. In fact, books about the lives of real life people are enormously popular today — true stories sell well in China. But the government’s heavy hand, via self-censorship among publishers, still influences what is printed. If an author tackles a sensitive topic and publishers feel that the government would disapprove, they market it as fiction. So you have a paradox: on the one hand, more non-fiction is available, on the other, censorship continues because publishers are reluctant to print anything that might be seen by the authorities as threatening China’s economic stability, its carefully maintained image of wide spread economic prosperity.
There’s also an interesting bit in the interview on the difficulties of translating this book:
Still, some parts of Liao’s book were not translatable. The reason we picked 27 stories out of the 60 in the Chinese version was because of cultural reasons and the challenges posed by the speaker’s dialect, which in some cases was impossible to translate. There was one interviewee who talked about prisoners, drawing on a particular language that inmates use when torturing each other. It was a very interesting story but I gave up on it because I couldn’t capture its flavor in English.
Randall Jarrell once argued a point that I will now paraphrase and, in doing so, over-simplify: As a culture, we need book criticism, not book reviews. I sort of agree, but let’s not get into all of that. Having finished. . .
Like any good potboiler worth its salt, Fuminori Nakamura’s The Gun wastes no time setting up its premise: “Last night, I found a gun. Or you could say I stole it, I’m not really sure. I’ve never seen something so. . .
Heiner Resseck, the protagonist in Monika Held’s thought-provoking, first novel, This Place Holds No Fear, intentionally re-lives his past every hour of every day. His memories are his treasures, more dear than the present or future. What wonderful past eclipses. . .
If you’ve ever worked in a corporate office, you’ve likely heard the phrase, “Perception is reality.” To Björn, the office worker who narrates Jonas Karlsson’s novel The Room, the reality is simple: there’s a door near the bathroom that leads. . .
I recently listened to Three Percent Podcast #99, which had guest speaker Julia Berner-Tobin from Feminist Press. In addition to the usual amusement of finally hearing both sides of the podcast (normally I just hear parts of Chad’s side. . .
Let’s not deceive ourselves, man is nothing very special. In fact, there are so many of us that our governments don’t know what to do with us at all. Six billion humans on the planet and only six or seven. . .
“Rambling Jack—what’s that?”
“A novel. Novella, I guess.”
“Yeah, it looks short. What is it, a hundred pages?”
“Sorta. It’s a duel language book, so really, only about… 50 pages total.”
“And this—what. . .
Many authors are compared to Roberto Bolaño. However, very few authors have the privilege of having a Roberto Bolaño quote on the cover of their work; and at that, one which states, “Good readers will find something that can be. . .
In Josep Maria de Sagarra’s Private Life, a man harangues his friend about literature while walking through Barcelona at night:
When a novel states a fact that ties into another fact and another and another, as the chain goes on. . .
César Aira dishes up an imaginative parable on how identity shapes our sense of belonging with Dinner, his latest release in English. Aira’s narrator (who, appropriately, remains nameless) is a self-pitying, bitter man—in his late fifties, living again with. . .