我在那個世界里的事情

現在是半夜，朋友，外面漆黑，天上下大雨，院子里人群涌動，鬧哄哄的，大雨打在他們的油布雨披上，「蓬蓬蓬蓬……」地響個不停。他們正在挖那棵樟樹，在樟樹邊上放著一棵油桐樹，是他們剛剛從很遠的地方拖來的。昨天傍晚，他們衝進我的房裡，商量的就是這件事。他們商量來、商量去，一會兒鬧，一會兒哭，一會兒跳，一會兒又疑神疑鬼，開始在我房裡找什麼東西。一個壯漢抽起筋來，一下子叫出了聲：「原來如此，要栽一棵油桐樹！」

「要栽一棵油桐樹！哈！哈！哈！」他們全體瘋叫，流著口涎，忽又用小眼瞪住了我，那些眼睛是一個個隧洞。壯漢專心致志地做了一個圈套，還眨著眼，將那圈套往我脖子上扔。「你，怎麼敢佔據這間房子？」他譴責地低語。我也搞不清我怎麼在這裡。我記得一開始外面正在下雪，空曠的原野里渺無人跡。後來雪停了，月白色的天庭里垂下刺目的冰凌，我仰面躺著，伸出一個指頭，指頭上長滿了霜花。原野里有冰凍的仙人掌，還有透明的爬行動物，那些精緻的冰柱從天上垂下來，戳到了地面。我側了側腦袋，聽見一種「哧哧」的響聲，那是冰柱在向地底生長。然後他們進來了，這些人全都自稱是我的遠房親戚，在我小時候救過我的性命的。我的眼睛從他們的肩頭望出去，看見奔喪的隊伍繞過光禿禿的小山坡，人影像一條條細繩子飄上飄下，一管簫在空中時隱時現，哀哀地吹出聽不出來的調子。

「首先得除掉那棵樟樹。」門角上的老婆子突然說。她是一隻老鷹，全身裹著黑披風，肩頭一聳一聳地抽搐，嗓子卻細得像小雞叫。

「對，挖掉樟樹。」大家同意。忽又慌張起來：「莫非有人偷聽？到處都是賊，什麼事都不可靠，我們不要忽視這類問題。從刮大風的那天起，天上就出現了裂縫……」

「我們要栽油桐樹！」他們用勁而肯定地說，邊說還邊跺腳，激動得大哭起來。一些人眼裡噙著淚花，相互喋喋不休地訴說多年來的惶恐和即將展現的前景，完了你踢我的背，我踢你的屁股，還像猴子一樣攀上窗欞，眺望暮氣中的小山包。

老鷹變的黑婆子偷偷抄起門后一把鋤頭，冷不防向門外挖去，聽見一聲嬰兒的慘叫，公雞在遠方錯誤地啼起明來，許多布鞋在塵埃里飛奔，「砰！」地一聲，有人在屋當中砸爛了一個瓶子。

我看見奔喪隊伍中的那管簫在窗玻璃上探來探去，像一個鬼頭鬼腦的竊聽者。壯漢發現了我的目光，立刻衝上前，用寬背嚴嚴實實地擋住了窗玻璃。

「在外面，」我開始講話了，從他們進來，我就想講話，我總忍不住，像有鬼使神差一樣，「石灰岩上的池塘里，有一件永恆的事：只要天上開始落霜，死水就丁冬作響……雪地上有一條巨蟒，盤成一個耐人尋味的大圈套……有一個灰色的影子，在池邊彎下腰去打撈……」

他們沒聽到我的話，或許在他們看來，我根本就不曾說話，只不過在奇怪地搖著頭部，扭著身子，像一條蚯蚓。他們小心翼翼地踮起腳避開我，有一個婆子還好奇地用一把削鉛筆的小刀在我腰上刺了一下，然後對什麼人說：「原來裡面是不鏽鋼，嘖嘖嘖，噓……不要出聲，門外有人在偷聽。」

我閉上眼蜷縮在牆根，朋友，我在想那座冰山。我想，只要海洋解凍，冰山就開始游移，我從水中抬起頭來，看見它緩緩而行，像一隻莊重的白鯨在沉思。蒼穹里的冰凌在滴水，「滴滴答、滴滴答……」一根通天冰柱「咔嚓」一聲斷裂了，碎冰晃耀著夢幻的藍色，飛快地劃出一道道弧線，一眨眼又消失了。冰凌的光芒是永恆而刺目的，朋友，你是否體驗過？當你的胸腔打開，頭顱變成反光鏡，繁星便黯然失色，太陽也變得不知所措，幽幽地一亮一黑。我從水中抬起頭來，抖掉額頭上的冰渣，眯了眯眼睛。天上在落霜。「有那麼一天早上，」我輕輕地對自己說，「我說『就這樣。』於是一切又重新開始。大地又變得混沌。在巨大的、毛茸茸的毯子下面，生長著朦朧的慾望和異樣的騷動，植物便漸漸洋溢著淫蕩的綠色……但我沒法重新開始，我已經進入了這個世界，冰凌的光芒是永恆而刺目的，流星也要驚駭地墜落下地，變成醜陋的石頭，沉默的雪峰大放異彩。我固守在這個世界里，朋友，我正在向上生長，長成無數通天冰柱中的一根。當那種顫抖的回光晃耀起來時，我的周身痒痒的，像許多葉芽要從內部暴出，我動了動脖子，聽見清風在葉片間吹口哨，飽滿的汁液在腋下流淌。」

我的眼睛透過蒙灰的玻璃瞪著外面。

樟樹已經挖出來了，一個婆子嘻嘻哈哈地跳進那個洞，在泥水裡向上一蹦一蹦地瘋鬧。大家鏟著土往她身上扔。

「這裡還有一個！」壯漢忽然筆直地指著玻璃後面我那雙眼睛，陰險地「嘿嘿」直笑。

「還有一個？？」人群一愣，接著又騷動起來，四處逃竄。被埋在坑裡的婆子默不作聲，一下子就變成了一塊化石。

我知道他們馬上要回來抓我了，我把門緊緊拴上，然後鑽進一口大木箱，蓋上蓋子。我想趕緊向那裡飛升，我想趕緊再變成那根冰柱，一切都要趕緊。這皮囊的桎梏被掙開，鮮血像噴泉一樣飛濺。時間不多了，因為奔喪的隊伍已經臨近那片荒野，北風將那些細繩子颳得亂成一團，而在沼澤那一邊，奔跑著一群餓狼。「哦、哦、哦～」一個老頭唱道，含混的聲音被傳得極遠、極遠。在我聽來，他彷彿一直唱著一個單調的詞：「繩子喲，繩子喲，繩子喲～」於是繩子們糾纏得更歡，老頭消失了，歌聲在天邊迴響，「噹啷」一聲，那管黑色的簫被撞落下來。

我聽見了狼群的腳步。

當海洋微微蠕動起來時，我把背部露出水面，灼熱的強光擴張著我的心臟。我翻過身來，尋找那面鏡子，在疾速的一瞥中發現自己的眼睛變成了兩朵紫羅蘭。白鯨的沉思是永恆不破的，碎冰在遠方撞擊……冰的世界里沒有晝夜。我從水中抬起頭來，使勁地打開胸腔，雪白的火星向天際噴射，冰峰也冒出紫煙，深沉地隆隆作響。

你當然知道這是怎麼回事，朋友，我是說關於那個世界，關於冰凌。從前有那麼一次，天上飄著雪花，我們並排坐在街沿上，合唱「媽媽的鞋子」，然後你跪下去，開始舔地上的那些白色精靈，你說那是白糖，你把小臉凍得冰冷發青，指頭腫起好大。那一次，在一道電光中，我就見到了，但我還不會傳達給你。待我想起來要傳達給你的時候，你已經長成了沉著的男子漢，渾身都是那種煙味。多少年，多少年，我一直在徘徊。我在河邊瘋走，將折斷的柳枝扔得到處都是。有時我停下來，用淚眼凝視前方，它在向我微笑，但它不來。我笨拙地唱出記憶中的「媽媽的鞋子」，呼喚那遠古的幽靈。日復一日，年復一年，它仍然躲藏在霧裡。

有一段時間我曾經不再等待，因為親戚們發現我在河堤上跑來跑去，便認定我出了毛病。他們趁我熟睡時捆起我的手腳，將我關進一個破廟。到夜晚，廟裡活動著數不清的鬼魅，還有什麼東西在地底狂奔亂跳。他們放我出來時，我果真出了毛病，我的臉部腫起老高，一天到晚往外滲出粘液，兩條風乾的腿子直打哆嗦，我逢人就揪住他們的衣袖，一個字一個字地說：「夜晚真快樂。」下陷的兩眼閃著凶光，手指頭在衣袋裡扭來扭去。我還制了一個猴子的假面，闖進親戚家中，隨隨便便地摟住他們的脖子，大聲嚷嚷：「夜晚真快樂！」他們審慎地打量我，點著頭，竊竊私語，我知道他們決定了什麼。他們在等一個機會，正如等老母雞下蛋。

那門已經被撞出了一條很寬的裂縫，有人探進來一把鐵鏟。

朋友，時候到了，你聽，燃燒的冰雹正像暴雨一樣落下來，透明的大樹搖擺著潔白的華蓋，海水肉感地躍動。我和你手牽手升出海面，眯縫著眼沐浴著冰的光焰，用胸腔唱出「媽媽的鞋子」…

Can Xue』s novel Frontier, translated by Karen Gernant and Chen Zeping, and with an introduction by Porochista Khakpour, comes out March 14 from Open Letter Books. 

Can Xue is the greatest living writer on earth, I』ve often said. And I am the luckiest living writer on earth for being not just a fan but the friend of the greatest living writer on earth. Can Xue often emails me with talk of literature and politics, checks up on my social media outlets to see how I am doing, offers all sorts of health advice (we are both chronically ill), and sometimes just drops a simple hello from Beijing. I had read her for years before meeting her—at first, thanks to stumbling on a story of hers in a Daniel Halpern international literature anthology, The Art of the Story. Soon I realized that Bradford Morrow had published her in Conjunctions for ages and I went back through the issues. (Years later, I got a job as writer-in-residence at Bard College and he became my colleague.) Everything I read I fell in love with, even as it was always over my head on some level; I』d never enjoyed feeling so inadequate more than when reading Can Xue! But I』d also feel her work deep in my body and soul, in a way I』d never quite experienced with experimental writing, art that often only fed the top layer of my brain. The experience of reading Can Xue cannot be compared to any other reading experience.

Then when I served on the Neustadt Prize jury in 2015, I finally had direct contact with her, as the Neustadt Prize—what some call 「the American Nobel」—requires that we notify who we nominate (of course, she was my nominee). Can Xue was most excited about the part of the prize that involved coming to the United States, where she feels her best readers are. In the end, she was a close finalist but didn』t win—and so we decided to figure out a way to arrange for her to visit the States anyway. I helped organize a tour for her, which would include her ever-adoring tailor husband, Lu Yong (it would be his first visit to the States). The tour this past fall was an enormous success: a whirlwind of excellent talks in Chinese and English, huge crowds and long lines of scholars and students, endless Q&As, never a boring meal all over the country, and conversation-packed walks through several cities. (Walking with Can Xue through Central Park and then spending a day with her at the Metropolitan Museum of Art might be one of the highlights of my life!) At Bard and MIT and the Asian American Writers Workshop—the events I worked on most closely—students are still talking about her visit. When I ask them what touched them the most during her talks, their thoughts mirror mine: how she never tried to write creatively until she was thirty, how she endured the horrors of life in the labor camps during the Cultural Revolution that interrupted her education at age thirteen, how she refuses to revise her work and believes in the performance of the first draft, how she holds on to optimism and a belief in the future while also revering the riches of past (modernist writers, canonical philosophers, iconic artists of ages ago)—and how she is so transcendently alive. Truly, her laughter can fill a room with light just as her intellect can set pages on fire.

With six novels, fifty novellas, 120 short stories, and six works of literary criticism and commentary—only a fraction of which have been translated in English—as well as a 2015 BTBA Award in 2015, Can Xue should be more well-known, greatest living writer that she is.  But while she might not be a household name, she is no secret in the literary world either. She counts among her fans the late Susan Sontag and Robert Coover, as well as John Darnielle and Eileen Myles—and I discover many more every time I speak of her publicly. I wrote to my friend Eileen about her recently again and she had a few words to say: 「Can Xue walks an urgent and excited line between reality and fantasy, legend and presence, politics and surrealism. The moment I picked up her work I felt like I had found a friend and an inspiration. Her feminism is in the gut of the work and in the uniquely radiantly mad mind. It feels like work that had to be written. Like we have to take our suffering and our precious time and infuse it with magic. I』ve learned so much from her.」 Indeed, we are all her students. The following interview was conducted over email over the course of months and is a fairly typical interaction between this master and this apprentice, creator and reader, icon and fan, two writers and two friends.

Porochista Khakpour (KP): I』ve had the great honor to write the introduction of your new book Frontier (pictured left). I wonder if you could tell us where you first got the idea for Frontier. The origin story of this tale, the genesis of this project, very much interests me as I consider this the most mysterious of Can Xue』s work!

Can Xue (CX): I think this is a very good question. Let me explain how I create and build up a novel. It』s a long journey, a special kind of journey that is realized through my continuing performances. It』s impossible for me to 「have an idea」 for a novel before the novel is being created, step by step, through my daily improvisational performances until it is finished at last. Because when I am writing, what I depend on is mainly the performance of my body, not just my thinking. In my view, the performance of one』s body is much more difficult than the thinking that occurs in one』s brain. You can』t know the meaning of your words and sentences before they are actually written down; you can』t know even after that. I usually know the 「meaning」 several months after I finish a novel. In the process of the writing, all you need is a strong passion and firm resolution—a resolution of performance. Of course, this sort of creation also needs a powerful original force to sustain it from start to end.

I always think that my writing is somewhat similar to Isadora Duncan』s dance. It』s not something external that gives you an idea about your tale; it』s a body』s passion and resolution that produces an essential movement. So when I am writing, I don』t need inspiration in the usual sense. Because at that moment, I am the inspiration, and I am Great Nature, which, as a Chinese writer, means the ultimate setting in my philosophical and artistic view; a warmer setting than God in the West. My body also becomes the body of Great Nature. As soon as I start the performance, the beautiful pattern of Great Nature gradually unfolds. What I need to do is just concentrate on my acting, indulging in the wildest fantasy. By the end, everything I write down forms that pattern naturally. I know this explanation is still mysterious for readers, but it is a matter of practicing, not just 「thinking.」 You have to do it very often; then you may understand it step by step. That means that reading works by Can Xue is also a sort of performance.

Before I start a novel, I sometimes say to myself: 「I』m going to write a big thing this time. Because recently there are so many things surging and tingling in my dark heart.」 Usually whatever I write down first is perfect—I call that 「material thinking.」

I always think that my writing is somewhat similar to Isadora Duncan』s dance. It』s not something external that gives you an idea about your tale; it』s a body』s passion and resolution that produces an essential movement.

PK: How do you see this work as fitting into your canon? I often wonder what order you would have readers read you or which books you now favor or how you see them all next to each other.

CX: Actually I view all of my works as a whole that is indivisible. I think my writing can be seen as a tree that is growing continuously all the time. It has its specific pattern in each growing period. Maybe some readers like works that are from an early period, while others like the later ones better, according to their personalities. As for me, when I consider my fiction—a lot of stories and six novels—as a whole, I like to list them according to the time that they were written. Strangely, I feel that each of my six novels is my favorite. Maybe by the time I wrote them, my artistic self was fully mature. From Five Spice Street and The Last Lover to Frontier and Love in the New Millennium, and two others, I think every one of them ranks first in the literary circles of the world. They are so beautiful, and each one reached a higher level of body and spirit. When you list them according to the time they were written, you can see this clearly. So I can』t decide which is best, because each one displays a unique kingdom of beauty.

My performance have never failed me in these long, sustained projects. And Frontier is a mature novel, one of my best. Every time I reread, it gives me new ideas. I view the book as the most successful pursuit of freedom. The border town in the story is not the type that people see or think about in daily life, but a more real small cosmos that is described as an ideal of nature and humanity. I build up the kingdom of freedom, and everything in it (people, plants, animals, and so on) presents an immortal painting. These people force themselves to lead a brave life—a free life that is like always getting ready to fly across an abyss. One thing I would like to share is that the English translation is beautiful and poetic.

PK: What were your influences on Frontier outside of the performance of Can Xue? I think about the animals in particular, and the actual town we have here. If you had to be your own psychodetective, could you say where this imagery came from?

CX: Usually when I work on a big new project, I try hard to exercise more seriously every day (jogging twice a day), and to keep myself in a state of high tension. When I wrote Frontier, I jogged in our community (in 2006, Beijing was not as dirty as nowadays). The sky was so blue; I felt that those trees were spring up freely, and I was melting into the sky, the trees, the grass . . . I call this exercise 「drawing information from Great Nature.」 After that, the grotesque images will surge out even when I am not writing. Sometimes I write down one or two words as a note, but my writing is an improvisation—the strange animals will come, the plants that belong to a paradise will come too, when I am acting. Because as soon as you launch the mechanism of the paradox of your body, every image evoked is aimed toward freedom automatically. But in my view, to an artist, psychological levels are relatively superficial. The best reader for this sort of fiction should not only look for clues from the field of psychology. They should be more profound and broad. I think all of the clues are in an artistic self. The best reader should draw wisdom and nourishment from literature itself, from philosophy and history, and then build up his modern view of the world or the arts gradually.

My writing is an improvisation—the strange animals will come, the plants that belong to a paradise will come too, when I am acting.

PK: How long did it take to write and what were your habits when writing Frontier?

CX: I took about a year (or less?) to finish Frontier. That was in 2006 (it was published in 2008). I remember how happy I was during that time. The setting of the story seems to be the Xin Jiang province in the northwest of China, although I have never been there. But during that time, my wonderful Xin Jiang remained in the depths of my mind all day long—even I myself didn』t realize it. That was really a fantastic experience.

In terms of my writing habits, I always write for an hour every day, usually in the morning. Just one thousand words (a page), not more, not less. Because I want to keep my images fresh. I sit down, a pen in my hand, and after one or two minutes, I begin to write sentence by sentence. This acting continues for about an hour; then the page is finished, I stand up, and do other things and forget my writing for the time being. Strangely, there』s no need for me to change anything I have written down. It』s there, neat and beautiful, just like my handwriting. . . This is my habit when I write fiction, and for Frontier, of course, the habit remained the same. Actually, I have not changed my writing habit for thirty-three years!

PK: You often write of surreal realities. 「Other worlds,」 one might even say, or 「dream realities」 or the realities of subconscious. But what do you think when the surface is also so surreal? For example, America right now is in chaotic, almost psychedelic, upheaval. What happens when the truth is stranger than fiction? What do you think of Trump and the chaos in America at the moment? I know things have not been easy in China either, but how do you handle it? Do you think much about politics anymore? Do you feel it matters for art? How can readers and writers alike approach this—should we immerse or ignore?

CX: As the saying goes, 「onlookers see more than the player.」 As an eastern artist and a foreigner who has closely watched the changes in the United States, I don』t think the current situation in the country is that strange. Although American people have a long excellent tradition of democracy, and the system of the country is relatively good, at the same time, the country also has a long conservative tradition. This tradition usually functions as nationalism. For many years the political elite who led the country followed the principle of 「political correctness.」 They neither really knew their own people, nor understood people in other countries. The only thing they usually did was to hold high the banner of justice for their policymaking. So I think that the phenomenon of Trump is a great explosion of contradictions. It shows that the leaders of the country are more and more out of touch with the American people. They don』t know what people think about, and how they feel about their lives nowadays. And also, the theory the leaders depend on to rule the country, to deal with their foreign affairs, is a very old one that is not suitable for the situations of the world that is changing rapidly.

Because of great disappointment in their leaders, the people turned to Trump—a nationalist, and a conservative strongman—hoping that he would bring a better life for them. 「The people get the government they deserve」—this is what happened in the United States recently, I think. Although Trump represents only half of the people. It is a very serious problem, and how to enlighten the masses is still a long tough task before the intellectuals. But first, the intellectuals have to find the right theory, change their outdated worldview, and explore humanistic ways to administer their country and to deal with their foreign policy. In these aspects I think President Barack Obama has done a better job than other leaders. But the time was too short, so he couldn』t change the past during his term.

Yes, I always pay attention to politics. And I feel it matters for art. But as a modern artist, I take a historical perspective to exam events that burst out suddenly. The history of human beings is long; we can』t measure it in a decade or even decades. Historical events are the power source for my creation; I have always been angry or excited for the events. But I think the main duty of an artist is to change the souls and bodies of common people. We must do more work, and enlighten people with our work. Our work is very important to politics in the world—as the events of Trump and Brexit show. Of course an artist is also a common person. If someday people here take to the streets, it』s possible that I would join them.

As a modern artist, I take a historical perspective to exam events that burst out suddenly. The history of human beings is long; we can』t measure it in a decade or even decades.

PK: When you came on your US university tour this autumn, no matter where we were—Bard College, MIT, the Asian American Writers Workshop—I was taken with how much young people loved you. I』ve never seen more young people ask questions and want to simply be around an author. I know you also love your young readers. I wonder if you could talk about who your ideal reader is, as well as why young people matter so much to you.

CX: In my heart, an ideal reader is someone who believes two things—love and creation. Those two things are also the core of my work. Can Xue loves people and the world. Communication is the most important thing for her. And at the same time she pursues a life of creation that is always new, that changes every day; she welcome challenges, and never stays in one place.

Why do young people matter so much for Can Xue? Because they are Can Xue』s hope. The works by Can Xue are the fables of beauty—they may not be realized right away—but young readers will realize them someday, I think. 

Read Kate Prengel』s review of Frontier

Read Can Xue』s essay 「『The Fair-haired Princess』 and Serious Literature

Read Can Xue』s story 「The Old Cicada」

Can Xue, meaning 「dirty snow, leftover snow, but also pure snow on the top of a mountain,」 is the pseudonym of Deng Xiaohua. She was born in 1953 in Changsha City, Hunan Province; her parents were sent to the countryside during the Cultural Revolution, and she only graduated from elementary school. Can Xue learned English on her own and wrote books on Borges, Shakespeare, and Dante. Her publications in English include Frontier, The Embroidered Shoes, Five Spice Street, Vertical Motion, and The Last Lover, which won the 2015 Best Translated Book Award for Fiction.

Published Mar 13, 2017   Copyright 2017 Porochista Khakpour

Porochista Khakpour is the author of the forthcoming memoir Sick (Harper Perennial), and the novels The Last Illusion (Bloomsbury, 2014)—a 2014 「Best Book of the Year」 according to NPR, Kirkus, Buzzfeed, Popmatters, Electric Literature, and more—and Sons and Other Flammable Objects (Grove, 2007)—the 2007 California Book Award winner in 「First Fiction,」 one of the Chicago Tribune』s 「Fall』s Best,」 and a New York Times 「Editor』s Choice.」 Her writing has appeared in or is forthcoming in Harper』s, The New York Times, The Los Angeles Times, The Wall Street Journal, Al Jazeera America, Bookforum, Slate, Salon, Spin, The Daily Beast, Elle, and many other publications around the world. She』s had fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, the University of Leipzig (Picador Guest Professorship), the Corporation of Yaddo, the Ucross Foundation, and Northwestern University』s Academy for Alternative Journalism, among others. Born in Tehran and raised in Los Angeles, she lives in New York City』s Harlem. She is currently writer-in-residence at Bard College.

Dan, this was another wonderful review! I don』t think Can Xue is for me, but I see that Scribd has it on audio so I might as well give it a try at some point, hey? Can』t wait to see what weird book you pick up next!

I』m so intrigued, slightly nervous but intrigued and must hunt out some Can Xue immediately, If only to find out how Daybreak Nation matches the tone of the book

Well, as you know, I did read this book... And it's recently been usurped as the weirdest book I've ever read, by Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice lispector. After reading lispector, I realize that there is a certain logic within Can Xue's work, and I appreciate it more now. And of course, since I've watched your video, I understand it, well, maybe 5% more LOL. I like that you picked up on the nostalgia and the history, I don't think I picked up on that on my first reading. Did you have to read this twice before you could do a review? I think I would have to. And yes, I did do women in Translation month, I read The Unit by ninni holmqvist, which is about as different from this as you can get, a very straightforward piece of dystopian fiction oh, but it was quite enjoyable. Or maybe not that different, since in the unit, there's definitely been some sort of major world changing event, and we never find out exactly what it is. And now I'm reading My Brilliant Friend, in other words, the most basic bitch thing you can read for women in Translation month LOL

I love it when I get haunted by the text. Then I'm left later with just the remnant of the feeling, but forget a lot about the actual text. Maybe that's the beauty of it?

I've read a bunch of her stories, including The Last Lover. I highly recommend her book of short stories, Vertical Motion.