Chapter 2 Inscription Preface

Li Jingze Xu See how she squanders her talent Wu Hongfei provides an excellent example of how a person squanders her talents. Before talking about her profligacy, one must talk about her talent.Today, with the emergence of many writers, writers who are artists are really rare. I know that Wu Hongfei is the lead singer of a rock band called "Happy Street". She has been leading it alone in the original bar in Beijing Fighting, just released a CD called "Happy Street" in May, this CD has been installed in my computer for a long time, but for some mysterious reason it just won't come out, so, I can't understand Wu Hongfei's talent as a rock singer, I imagined her singing voice in my heart, I worked hard, and finally, in the smoky and messy place, a strange voice rose, very sharp, very thin, erratic, sharp Chaotic, disconcerting...

Later, I read this book, which made me feel that my imagination was not far off, and I saw this person-I assumed that the girl in this book who sang rock, loved chocolate and Melissa, with a plain face It was Wu Hongfei, I saw her haunt the following places: Library, college student dormitory, supermarket, small restaurant, bar, street, Wei, Jin, Southern and Northern Dynasties, basement with low rent, gloomy Jiangnan town, flying plane, middle school, a state-owned factory in childhood, Andersen's Denmark, the world The End and Grim Wonderland... ——This is a world lacking unity, it is not self-consistent, each place is drifting separately, at the bottom of this world you cannot imagine a universal basis, strictly speaking, they are not one world, but many The fragments of the world are like smashing a dozen different bottles at the same time, breaking them into a mess.

So you can see Wu Hongfei's special posture: she is jumping cleverly and cunningly, she is always here against this place, and misses this place there, she will always dream but always wake herself up from the dream vigilantly, that kind of Sometimes she is sentimental and grim, with a fearless self-mockery; she revels in betrayal—better said "rebel," but "rebel" has a sense of object, and a dignified rage, and betrayal has a I am delighted—we have finally cheated the world and prevented ourselves from being fools. Frankly speaking, Wu Hongfei and I have very different views on the world. Like many of my peers born in the 1960s, I gradually tend to believe that the world is stupid, and I am also stupid. The former is a judgment, and the latter is a choice , after experiencing anger and doubt, I need a foothold for me to continue to be angry and doubtful, that is to say, I need a minimum of "certainty", otherwise I will not be able to stand on my own.

So, after watching Wu Hongfei's thrilling performance, I have to be amazed: this is really a ruthless generation, she doesn't need a foothold at all, she has always been a jumping dancer, she doesn't intend to stop, the world and life are nothing to her "Non-stop". ——I used the word "generation", which reveals my imagination and prejudice against another generation, which is "post-70s" or "post-80s". How high-spirited, there is no generation of Chinese who affirms the absolute status of youth in all human values ​​as arrogantly as they do, they make you feel ashamed to be a middle-aged person in this age, this golden The world and its brighter future belong to them.

Of course, apart from gold, I don’t believe in anything that looks like gold, so I have deep doubts about the background that this generation imagined for themselves, and therefore I have some doubts about Wu Hongfei’s "gorgeous-desolate" aesthetics. Deep impression: she is always desolate in gorgeousness, gorgeous in desolation. Like Eileen Chang?Yes, after reading this book, you will know that Wu Hongfei pays tribute to Zhang Ailing deliberately:, "Rumours", "Amorous Love", but when Zhang Ailing and Wu Hongfei sit together, imagine the scene, it is weird: Zhang Ailing There is something vast, Zhang Ailing has mountains and rivers, Zhang Ailing's foundation is gorgeous, but Wu Hongfei's foundation is desolate, Zhang Ailing's fate is huge and heavy, like the extinction of dinosaurs, and Wu Hongfei's fate is the fate of a small animal in the wilderness , Every moment is full of crises.

Therefore, she cannot stop, she cannot stop with love, cannot stop with love, cannot stop with death, cannot stop with life, cannot stop with pleasure, cannot stop with pain, cannot stop with body, cannot stop with soul, cannot stop with dreams, cannot stop In reality, not in the present nor in the past or future. She is very much like an orphan—in this novel, she is at least half an orphan. The image of her father is vague, while her mother is talked about with love and hate. In fact, long before Wu Hongfei, those born in the 1970s This fact is striking in the pages of women writers: the universal absence of fathers provides, psychoanalytically, a striking collective illustration of the incompleteness of the world—the orphan, frightened, happy, clever, rambunctious, her rucksack There were tons of matches in there, lit and then extinguished.

Wu Hongfei fully demonstrated her talent in this process: her sensitivity and surlyness, her sharp analysis of experience, her endless change of one and the other, her fast rhythm and sharp articulation, she watched From the outside, when looking at himself, the complex look of eagerness to try and panic to escape. It all makes for a strange book, an off-kilter book, a book that one wonders whether to admire or irritate, a book that seems to me sharper and sharper than any other. A book that pinpoints the complexities of experience and soul of this generation. It is also a book of wasted talents, a man who, with the utmost patience and the greatest impatience, wrote one fragment after another over a period of six or seven years, and she squandered her talent on fragmentary and disconnected improvisations. Writing, with her loose, flippant approach to her insights, whims, and epigrams, she reminded me of that American eccentric named Bukautsky, who spent his life fighting the idea that writing must never be turned into a job , writing is a way of squandering life, it is to prove the "non-stop" of life; therefore, Wu Hongfei seems to have never thought of endowing those fragments with logic and integrity, and never thought of letting go of the one who haunts this book. People have a fixed name, face and purpose in life, she would rather let her be uncertain, let her be nobody, let her be free without choice.

It can be seen that Wu Hongfei has a completely different view on talent from mine. I think talent is to make something, and it has a purpose of self-fulfillment, while Wu Hongfei thinks that talent is like the wind, and the purpose of the wind is Splurge, splurge was part of, or rather was the essence of, her talent. It was a surly profligacy, and there was a desolation and terror here, and a bloody magnificence.