Chapter 6 suddenly look back

For many years, I haven't read my old works.This time my early short stories were compiled and published by Yuanjing Publishing House, and I had the opportunity to re-read those works more than ten years ago. Where did all those weird ideas come from?When it comes to my first teacher of novels, I am afraid that the first one is Lao Yang, the cook in our former family.Lao Yang is from Guilin, he has the eloquence that Guilin people can speak well, and he has a lot of Gu'er words.Because he used to be a Hutou army, he had a wide range of knowledge and knowledge, and he told a very ordinary story vividly in a few words.On winter nights, a charcoal brazier was set up in my room, a few sweet potatoes were simmering in the ashes, and a bowl of water was placed on the brazier to remove the anger.So Lao Yang asked me: "Where did we talk yesterday, Fifth Young Master?" "Xue Rengui, help me—" I said.Lao Yang was telling me about "Xue Rengui's Expedition to the East".That was my first novel of Kaizong Mingyi, and Xue Rengui, who had silver teeth and big ears, was one foot tall, held a square sky painting halberd, and wore a silver helmet and white robe, who conquered Korea for Emperor Taizong, became an unbreakable hero in my heart The image, even Alexander and Napoleon, cannot be compared with our Tang Dynasty warrior.Lao Yang was always wrapped in his oil-stained and soot-stained military cotton robe, his fingernails were black and greasy, and when he entered, he smelled like a kitchen.But as soon as I saw him, I grabbed him as if I had found a treasure, and I didn't let him go until I went to sleep.At that time, Chongqing was in a gloomy and gloomy period during the Anti-Japanese War. When I was only seven or eight years old, I contracted the second-stage lung disease. I lay in bed and struggled with death.The doctor held up my X-ray film under the lamp and pointed it out to my father. My father's face sank because there was a big hole in the apex of my right lung.At that time, there was no specific medicine for tuberculosis, and everyone talked about tuberculosis, and people would wink at the mention of the word tuberculosis, as if it was an extremely unlucky thing.The relatives and servants at home, as soon as they walked through the window of my room, they bent down halfway, so as not to let me see, and fled in a hurry, because they were afraid that I would be caught into the house to tell "the story".What I got was "children's tuberculosis", and it's okay to be infected.I was ill for more than four years, and my childhood was spent in isolation from the world, but I was very anxious because I knew that there were many interesting things happening in the outside world, and I had no part to participate.The Jialing River was flooded, and I looked down through the window through the binoculars. The turbid waves in the river were soaring into the sky, and many houses, people and animals were swallowed up by the flood. I saw some men and women on bamboo rafts with disheveled hair, flustered, dancing with hands and feet, and the bamboo rafts were swirled by the whirlpool. , I pounded on the bed and shouted: "Ai! Ai!" However, my family didn't allow me to come down because I had a fever.So he lay on the bed, watching many lives outside disappear one by one, only anxious in his heart.Before I got sick, I was favored by my parents and ran amok at home. Once I was isolated and detained in a small house on the hillside of the garden, I suddenly felt helpless and depressed.One spring evening, the garden was in full bloom, and my parents held a banquet in the garden. There were a lot of guests and laughter.In my hut on the hillside, I quietly opened the curtains, and saw the vast world in the garden, a bustling scene, with my older brothers, sisters and cousins ​​interspersed among them, all beaming.In an instant, a burst of grief and indignation of being abandoned and left behind by the world came to my heart, and I couldn't help crying bitterly.During that period, Huotoujun Laoyang's words became the greatest comfort in my life.I yearn for the heroic world of Wagangzhai, Qin Shubao's heroism, Cheng Yaojin's humor, and Yuchi Jingde's recklessness are all unforgettable to me.Of course, Fan Lihua in "Zhengxi" is also deeply loved by me.Later, when I watched the Beijing Opera "Fanjiang Pass", Fan Lihua came out, with a pheasant tail on her head, wearing golden armor with locks, and small boots with powder bottoms. It looks familiar, because I have always believed that Fan Lihua should be so majestic.

After recovering from the illness, he returned to the human world and could not adapt at all.Just like a bird that has been imprisoned for many years, once it is released from the cage, it panics and feels that it has wings and cannot fly.The life of elementary school and middle school is a tense one for me.I became unsociable, but because of my strong nature, I didn’t want to fall behind, so I worked hard to study, English, mathematics and science, day and night, just wanted to be the first in the exam, and I also memorized the subjects I didn’t like. I don’t know how to waste it. How much precious time.However, besides school, I have another world, the world of my novels.As soon as the winter and summer vacations came, I would go to the book rental shop on the street and bring back piles of novels wrapped in kraft paper. I forgot to eat and study hard.There are more than 50 copies of Huanzhuzhuzhuzhu, from the beginning to the end, I have read it several times.This is really a great masterpiece, with its strange conception, grand vision, beautiful writing, and high skill, it is the best in the world of martial arts. No novel has ever fascinated me like that.Of course, I also couldn't bear to let go of Zhang Henshui's "Story of the Stranger" and Xu's "The Wind Xiaoxiao", and I was also very excited to read Ba Jin's ", ". "Three Kingdoms" and "Water Margin", I read them half-understood, and started reading them in the fifth grade of elementary school. Even today, this novel is still on the bedside.

In the third year of Jianguo Middle School, I met my second enlightenment teacher, teacher Li Yayun.Mr. Yayun grew up in Peiping, and she sips pure Beijing movies. When she thinks of Empress Li's "Poppy", she sings with cadence.Teacher Yayun opened the door of Chinese classical literature for me, and gave me a glimpse of the greatness and solemnity of ancient China for the first time.Teacher Yayun is very talented in writing, and often publishes novels in newspapers and magazines.When she was at Peking University, she participated in the underground anti-Japanese work and covered our comrades.She was only in her twenties when she was elected as a National Congress representative after the war.In my mind, Teacher Yayun is a heroine with both civil and military skills.In her body, I realized the persistent spirit of Confucianism, which is peaceful and happy, tireless in teaching, and knowing what is impossible.She is our Chinese tutor. She read my composition and encouraged me to write and contribute.She submitted an article for me to the "Wild Wind" magazine, and it was actually published. The teachers and students were very happy.She smiled and said to me: "If you keep writing like this, you will become a writer at the age of twenty-five or six." Her words had a profound impact on me, and I'm afraid she didn't expect it at the time. I dream of becoming a "writer" in the future.After graduating from middle school, I kept in touch with Teacher Yayun. After going abroad, we also exchanged letters. In 1969, I sent a Christmas card, but I got a reply from her husband, Teacher Zhang Wenhua, saying that Teacher Yayun died in September. He became ill and died at the age of fifty.Teacher Yayun has experienced the war against Japan, national disasters and national calamities, and she has profound experience. No wonder she prefers the latter subject, "It's like a river of spring water flowing eastward". .

After graduating from high school, I was recommended to be sent to National Taiwan University, but at that time I suddenly had a romantic idea.I read about the Yangtze River Three Gorges Irrigation Project in a geography book. If the YVA is built to be comparable to the TVA in the United States, the farmland water conservancy in central China will be completed in one fell swoop, benefiting hundreds of millions of people.I was so ambitious at the time, I was going to the Three Gorges of the Yangtze River to build a YVA for China.While building the country, you can travel to famous rivers and mountains, and then you can write your own articles.Swimming across the Yangtze River in an hour, the mountains and rivers are majestic and impressive.At that time, National Taiwan University did not have a Department of Water Conservancy, so I asked to be recommended to Chenggong University.After studying water conservancy engineering for a year, I found that I had no interest in engineering at all, and I had no talent. It was probably not my turn to build YVA.The students were doing physics experiments and were very serious about measuring the diameter of the ball, but I took a book with me and read it with great interest.A person's ambition cannot be achieved by force, but my "writer's dream" is getting stronger and stronger.One day, in a small bookstore in Tainan, I found two issues 1 and 2 of the magazine "Literary Magazine" with faded covers and dusty covers. Translation of Mrs. Wharton's "Idan Frome", romantic and realistic, beautiful.Although I read some translated novels at that time: ,,, "The Roaring Heights", etc., but they were easy to read and not serious.The "Literary Magazine" edited by Mr. Xia Ji'an is really a bridge to guide my love of Western literature.I made a very big decision in my life to retake college and switch to literature.I didn't discuss it with my parents beforehand, so I cut it first and then played it.I am afraid that my "writer's dream" was difficult for my parents to understand at that time.I asked Teacher Yayun for her opinion. Originally, I wanted to take the Chinese Department, but Teacher Yayun tried her best to dissuade me. She said that studying Western literature would be much more inspiring to the creation of novels.She herself was born in the Department of Chinese Literature, but she can give such objective advice. I am very grateful to her.When National Taiwan University released the rankings, the parents couldn't help complaining and regretting.In the ethos of Taiwanese schools, boys place science and engineering first, law and business second, and literature and history second.My homework in the water conservancy department was very good, and I was the first in the department, but that was just a high score, and my comprehension of mathematics and science was not strong.I explained it for a long time. My father saw that the general trend was set, so he didn't insist on it. He just brought up the old saying: "If you have spare power, learn literature." I vaguely replied: "Everyone has his own ambition." Let him, 'Walk out of the top'." She was very happy because I came back to my home in Taipei.

After entering the Department of Foreign Languages ​​and Literatures at National Taiwan University, my biggest expectation was to publish articles in the "Literary Magazine", because literary magazines often published novels by classmates at that time.Our Chinese teacher often drafts articles for literary magazines.Once for a composition, the teacher asked us to write a novel. I think this is the opportunity to show my talents, and I handed in three at once.I sent it out in a thick stack, and I searched for a long time, but I couldn’t find a single comment. At first I thought the teacher missed it, but then I thought it was wrong, and I always saw one of the three articles. It must be that the teacher didn’t appreciate it and was too lazy to comment.Immediately, his face became hot, and he hurriedly stuffed the large stack of manuscripts into his schoolbag, for fear that others would see it. The "writer's dream" woke up halfway, but my heart didn't die. Instead, I felt a little underappreciated and didn't meet a bosom friend.So I rushed to find Mr. Xia Ji'an. At first, I was embarrassed to show my work, and asked him to revise the English composition under the pretext.After one or two times, he handed one of his novels to his desk without embarrassment.I remember that he was wearing only an undershirt that day, and he was flipping through my manuscript, smoking his pipe.At that moment, my heart was beating, as if I was waiting for the judge to sentence me.If Mr. Xia sentenced my article to "death sentence", I am afraid that my writing career would have many more twists and turns, because I admired Mr. Xia very much at that time, and I had no confidence in myself. There is a world of difference between praise and criticism.But Mr. Xia raised his head and smiled at me: "Your writing is very sophisticated, we will use this novel and publish it in the "Literary Magazine"." That is "Grandma Jin", my first officially published novel .

Later, he continued to publish "Let's Go to See Chrysanthemums" (formerly known as "Admission") in a literary magazine. "Men Lei" was originally planned to be submitted to a literary magazine, but before it was finished, Mr. Xia only read half of it, and then went to the United States.Although Mr. Xia only taught me for one semester, his direct and indirect influence on my writing is great.Of course, the most important thing is his encouragement when I first "appeared on stage", but his analysis of writing style also benefited me a lot.He thinks that the biggest problem of Chinese writers is the abuse of romantic, passionate and sentimental words.He asked me what writers I read, and I said some, but he didn't say a word. Later, I mentioned Maugham and Maupassant, but he said: "The writing of these two people will have a good influence on you. Their words are very cruel." I read a lot of romantic works at that time, and the text was sometimes tinged with sentimentality. Mr. Xia mentioned two writers in particular, probably because he wanted me to learn their style of calm analysis.Mr. Xia’s appreciation of literary works is very rational and objective, and he looks so cheerful. I mistakenly thought that he had long been detached and was not disturbed by the world. Later, after reading "Xia Ji'an's Diary", I realized his mental journey It was so rugged.He was a Romantic himself, so he can have such a deep understanding of the evils of Romanticism.

When I was in my junior year, several classmates and I founded "Modern Literature". Now that we had our own space, it would be much easier to publish articles. Both the good and the bad would be published together. In the first issue, I published two articles under two pseudonyms. Chapter: "Moon Dream" and.Professor Li Liewen asked me: "Who wrote it? It's very familiar, I'm afraid it wasn't written by you?" I was proud and quickly replied: "I wrote it." He was slightly surprised, looked at me, probably he I thought I was a bit of a kid back then.Looking at it now, most of the novels I wrote before going abroad were very young, with incomplete forms, too revealing emotions, no control, and still trying to write.However, the theme has roughly been finalized, and it is just birth, old age, sickness and death, some basically eternal phenomena in life.However, there are a few articles that were written at the time. After many years, it is quite interesting to recall them now.One year, when Sister Zhi returned to China, we talked about old family affairs. She talked about her former nanny, who was very pretty and liked to wear white earrings, and then she went out to live with her godbrother.I have never met the nanny, but the pair of white earrings has become a kind of temptation in my mind. I think that a woman with white earrings will die if she loves someone——that is Yuqing sister-in-law.In the Gendarmerie School, one day I went to the map to read. I never knew the direction, and I couldn’t tell the east, the west, the north, the south, the listening was useless, so I put a map on the manuscript paper and started to write.I have a relative who does not do well in school, has no status in the family, and is very lonely. He makes fake calls to himself. I think that boy must be so lonely that he fainted to talk to himself like that.Once I saw an oil painting of a nude teenager painted by an artist. The background was semi-abstract, with a white melting sun above and a burning beach below. The teenager was about to fly, full of vitality. I think painting is simply a symbol of "youth", so I think that human youth cannot last forever, and probably only by turning it into art can it last forever.

In 1962, before and after going abroad, it was a watershed in my life and my writing career. In the winter of that year, there were great changes in my family, and my mother passed away.Her mother was born in an official family, and she was the apple of her grandfather's eye. She was well-clothed and well-fed since she was a child, but she was courageous and resolute.During the Northern Expedition in 1927, my mother had just married my father and went north with the army.Her father fought fiercely with Sun Chuanfang in Longtan, and her mother misheard that her father was killed in battle in Shanghai. She rushed to the blockade line overnight, climbed the trenches, and ran to the front to join her father. At that time, she had just died.During the Anti-Japanese War, Hunan and Guangxi retreated. The mother alone led the Bai and Ma families of more than 80 people, the grandmother was 90, and the younger brother was more than a month old. After suffering hardships, they finally arrived in Chongqing.We have ten siblings, and my mother has worked hard all her life. She lived in Taiwan in her later years and suffered from high blood pressure. She often went to the doctor.However, my mother is open-minded and loves life. No matter how difficult the environment is, she is still optimistic and brave to survive, because she has a strong personality and never gives up.But in the end she was sick in bed, fighting with the god of death, but retreated steadily, unable to resist.She stayed in the hospital for six months. One day, a relative of ours married a daughter, and my mother loved the girl very much. She was in better spirits that day, so she struggled up, dressed up specially, and insisted on going to the wedding banquet with us.She looked in the mirror by herself, very proud, and said with a smile to her father: "It's still rich and noble after changing the beaded shirt." Although she only sat in the banquet for a while, she was the one who laughed the most.Everything in the world, she warmly embraces, death, she is extremely unwilling, and very disdainful.However, not long after that time, she finally died of illness.After my mother was buried, I guarded the grave for forty days according to Islamic rituals, and on the forty-first day, I went abroad to fly to the United States.Father bid farewell to the airport, depended on each other every step of the way, and made an exception and sent him down the flight ladder.His father once led millions of soldiers, went through life and death, and because of his resolute nature, his emotions and anger were easily invisible.However, we were widowed in old age, and my son traveled far away. In the cold wind that day, I burst into tears. That was the last time we father and son met.For more than a month, parting from life and death, I tasted it all for a while, and the sorrows of life began from then on.

When others go abroad to study, they probably cannot help but be full of excitement, but I am not. I just feel flustered and look around at a loss.In the first year in the United States, my mood was bleak, because my mother's death shocked my soul tremendously.Like my mother, a life that once radiated so much light and heat disappeared in a blink of an eye, and became nothingness.Because the mother has always been the pillar of the Bai and Ma families, she passed away suddenly, and the two families felt that the sky was falling apart, and the beams were destroyed.On the day of the funeral, at the moment when I was buried, I felt that what was buried was not only my mother's body, but also a part of my own life. It was the first time I really came into contact with death, and I deeply felt its irresistible power.From this, I gradually realized the limit of life and the inevitability of destiny.The grief of losing my mother, after all, has gradually faded with time and understanding.Because there is no old calendar abroad, sometimes the mother's death day is ignored.But sometimes, if you don't pay attention, you will suddenly see your mother in a dream, and what you see is always her sad face before death, which is very different from her usual happy face.I know, subconsciously, I feel deeply guilty about my mother's death, because I failed to rescue her from death.In the face of death, I was so powerless.

When I first came to the United States, I couldn't write at all, because the environment changed suddenly and the space was in chaos, so I couldn't write.At Christmas at the end of the year, the school dormitory was closed, so I went to Chicago for Christmas and lived alone in a small hotel by Lake Michigan.One evening, I walked to the lake, there was snow in the sky, the sky was vast, the lake was vast, the skyscrapers along the shore were lit up, the Christmas gospel was ringing all around, and the dying years were everywhere.Standing on the embankment, I suddenly felt a strange feeling in my heart. That feeling, like sadness or joy, is a kind of longing in heaven and earth. In an instant, the chaotic state of mind became clear and clear. Looking back suddenly, twenty The five-year-old self turned into a blur and gradually faded away.I felt reborn, and all of a sudden, many years were added to my heart.Huang Tingjian's words: "Going to the country for ten years will make you grow old." It doesn't take ten years, one year is enough, especially in a place like Chicago.Back in Iowa, I started writing again, the first one being Death in Chicago.

At the Iowa Writers' Workshop, I learned a lot: I learned the importance of a novel's narrative point of view. Percy Lubbock's classic "Fiction Skills" inspired me a lot. He proposed two basic writing techniques for novels: narrative method and dramatic method.He discusses several great novelists, some good at the former, like Thackeray, and some good at the latter, like Dickens.He feels that when to narrate and when to dramatize, this is the key to writing a novel.The so-called dramatization is to create scenes and use dialogue.I have also found that in a novel, the proportion arrangement of narration and dialogue is very important.I also found that most Chinese novelists are good at drama. "Red Mansion", "Water Margin", "Golden Vase", and "Scholars" all win with scenes and dialogues, and descriptions and analyzes are rare.The great novelists I have studied, none of them are not highly skilled. Fictional skills are not "frivolous skills", but a basic tool for expressing great ideological themes.During that period, the more important influence on my writing was self-discovery and pursuit.Like many international students, when they go abroad, they are impacted by foreign cultures and have a so-called identity crisis, and have to re-evaluate their own values ​​and beliefs.Although I read Western literature in class, what I borrowed from the library were stacks of books on Chinese history, politics, philosophy, and art, as well as many novels from the May Fourth era.I was suffering from cultural hunger, and when I picked up these Chinese historical literature, I devoured them hungrily.I read many books on modern Chinese history, read about the Taierzhuang War against Japan, and planned to ask my father about the actual situation of the war when I returned home. During the summer vacation, one day in New York, I saw a Chinese historical film filmed by a foreigner at Little Carnegie Hall. From the death of Empress Dowager Cixi, the Revolution of 1911, the Northern Expedition, the Anti-Japanese War, and the war, China for more than half a century was presented before my eyes.The Nanjing Massacre and the Chongqing Bombing are no longer historical terms, but the bodies of Chinese people who have been ravaged, humiliated, divided, and burned, lying on the Chinese land that has been blackened by the blood and tears of suffering. superior.I sat in a dark corner of the movie theater, feeling horrified and excited.When I walked outside, Times Square was still full of traffic and dust, and the neon lights made people's eyes hurt. I walked on the streets of New York, and I didn't know where I was for a while.That was the first time after I arrived in the United States, I felt the hesitation of the country being ruined and the family being ruined. After going abroad for a long time, I feel nostalgia for the culture of my own country, so I started "The New Yorker" and later.