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Religious Book Store > Religious books beginning with O
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One Man's Bible |
Author: Gao Xingjian
Published: 2003-09 |
List price: $13.95
Our price: $11.86
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Customer comments on this selection.
 A very personal story within the Cultural Revolution
One Man's Bible conveys the life and death choices the narrator had to make every day during a period of extreme social turbulence.This book excels in communicating the tension between the desire to survive and thrive in society and a personal desire (in this case to keep writing)that is forbidden by "society". The narrator is certainly not a hero and does not judge what his happening around him.
I also found the book very good in being able to paint a picture of daily life, at the collective and individual level, in the period where the book is set.
beautiful, accomplished work
Gao Xingjian's second novel, "One Man's Bible" contains partially autobiographical life story of a Chinese writer, who tries to find his own place, peace of mind and right to writing and publishing in the Communist China.
The writer, living in permanent exile from China, goes to Hong Kong to attend a premiere of one of his theater plays. There, he meets Margarethe, one of the women who had an impact on his life. Margarethe, a German Jew, who stayed in Germant despite many doubts and reservations, is enquiring about the writer's past and this triggers and avalanche of memories. In fact, it is not a novel compositional trick, but because of Gao's dream-like style, similar to "The Soul Mountain", it seems still fresh and original here.
The chapters, which describe the Chinese past of the main character during the Cultural Revolution are separated by the ones closer to the present. The difference is stressed by the changes in narration between second and third person.
Among enemies and friends, career wolves and people desperately trying to preserve their individuality and self-respect, the young writer tries to figure out his own place, which requires a lot of time and effort, many schemes and being always a step ahead of the others. To write and publish in the capital, one must escape the Party purges, must have a job, a right to lodging in a tiny room in the communal apartment, an impeccable past and a perspective of a career within the Party.
Initially, the protagonist manages quite well. He becomes a leader of young rebels in yet another uprising, labeling the former previous party officials as "The Snake Spirits" (name given to all enemies of the system). He is also a lover of one of the Party leader's wife. Thanks to her warning (apparently the proofs of his disloyalty have been found (in the form of the information that in the remote past, just after the war with Japan, his father was in the illegal possession of weapons), the writer finally realizes that he will never be able to find for himself a safe place in the communist structures, allowing him creative freedom. Only then he decides to escape, initially hiding n the far away, mountain village, under the pretenses of rehabilitation through physical labor. After a long period of creative hibernation and waiting, he manages to leave China and stay abroad permanently, getting the status of the political refugee.
This seemingly realistic plot is spiked with the descriptions of events from emigrant times, the weird dreams pestering the protagonist and the masterful portraits of people who he met in China (the whole gallery of human types, from small cheaters, through people using their professional positions to the good and bad purpose, to intellectuals broken by the system) and outside (especially interesting are the female characters - already mentioned Margarethe and Sylvie, a person whose personal experience separates her like a chasm from the protagonist; it is interesting to notice, how her character is the opposite to the writer's). Various motivations and life attitudes are shown very clearly and convincingly, so that the reader can rest assured, that in each regime everyone has their own free will and our life choices depend on our will only.
The parallels to Gao's life come to mind automatically during reading. The protagonist is not from the working class (his father, like Gao's, works in a bank), he is educated, writes and then destroys his writings, afraid that they can be discovered and used against him (Gao had burned all his manuscripts before leaving China), during his years in exile he cannot visit China... It is hard not to wonder whether "One Man's Bible" is a kind of the catharsis, as the writer is shown as a person who to reach his goal - to write and publish - does not hesitate to become an opportunist. Although he is trying to live in agreement with his conscience, he makes mistakes, which he later regrets and which affect other people's lives. If Gao writes here about himself, he definitely does not try to excuse his actions or to show himself in the best light...
The autobiographical style makes "One Man's Bible" less contemplative and looking more like a "traditional" novel than "The Soul Mountain", but here again comes back the motif of integration with the rural people and respect for the antique Chinese traditions - for example, the scene of conversation with the old doctor and description of his handbook are beautiful).
This novel is worth recommendation, especially, because the access to the Chinese writers who describe the country's reality well and at the same time their books present the high level of artistic achievement, is limited, and Gao's works are banned in China (apparently, they are available on the black market, but not published officially), therefore it is very likely that they contain accurate observations (like the Polish, Soviet or other emigrant writers, to which I can relate).
 Isolated In a Crowd
Part of why Gao Xingjian's book "One Man's Bible" has such an impact for the Western audience is that many of us who have heard of the Cultural Revolution in China still have no adequate experience that helps us understand it or its impact on the Chinese people. Xingjian's detached style may be the only way to deal with this and not go crazy. So many of the details are startling. When he relates how his father's ownership of a gun some 30 years previously is held against him so that he's threatened by the dreaded "reactionary" & "counter-revolutionary" labels is amazing to the Western mind. To hear of families split apart as educated parents are sent for 8 years of "re-education" in rural labor camps is shocking. When those in political disfavor become ill, the hospital becomes the ideal method for assassination. I believe it's because of this subject matter that the book has such an impact.
There is also another underlying theme of human isolation. Surrounded by people, the main character cannot let anyone get close to his heart and emotion. He interprets freedom as an absence of love; and this is perhaps the saddest aspect of the book. Xingjian's series of lovers from the German Marguerite to his first love Lin and the many other casual affairs reflect the satisfaction of the basic hormonal drives, but leave an emotional detachment that precludes real intimacy. On a purely human level, this clinical self-examination is put under a harsh light.
The novel's construction uses some of the techniques that made "Soul Mountain" also seem fresh & "un-Western." The alternation of time periods, flashing back and forth from past eras in China to the present detachment works to produce a tension in the novel. Use of various persons (e.g. I, he/she) including second person (you) narration adds a variety; whereas more accepted Western standards would look for consistency. People may react negatively to the book because we're used to a plot line where a story is told. Xingjian's story is told here, but it's in more of a travelogue format than the traditional structure that builds to a climax. Xingjian's tale seems to travel to anti-climax, much as life often can seem mundane or routine.
Some of the philosophical chapters near the end did not connect with me as well. The book does seem to end simply because the author put down the pen. But all in all, this is an important book. My family watched the film "Balzac & the Little Chinese Seamstress" the other night. I found myself using Xingjian's book to fill in many of the details about the re-education camps for my family. Translated works may lose some of the original nuance and impact, but Mabel Lee did a good job with the translation. I often would ponder an unusual image. This is an excellent mind-stretching book. Enjoy!
Engrossing
This is a fantastic autobiographical novel about the author's experiences under Mao's China and how it affected him and others. The subject matter itself is enough to reccomend this book because we rarely get insights into this closed world and must strive to understand it as it emerges as a world economic power.
The author uses an interesting techinque of detachment where the main character is also the narrator who speeks most often in the third person. Irme Kertesz in his novel "fatelessness" beautifully dscribes how people can survive even the worst suffering, such as the holocaust, by detachment of soul from body. In "Fatelessness", the protagonist survives the concentration camps by escaping outside himself and comes to not only view his suffering and surroundings in the third person but becomes so detached that the physical pain, wounds, illness and suffering of his own body are described and experienced as a thiid person. This mode of escape was subconcious and persisted after the war, leaving a permanent scar of detachment that leaves the reader wondering how the protagonist will relate in peacetime.
Gao has evidently experienced a similar form of coping mechanism that is evident in the sections of the novel that take place in the present, during his expatriat years. It becomes manifest by his casual serial sexual encounters with women who also have similar problems of forming lasting bonds and attachments because of trauma (rape etc). Gao's inability to form a lasting personal bond extends to his lack of attachment to China, his people and his new home, career and friends. Though his insights are [rofound, Gao's emotions and actions are superficial and dream-like.
The most brilliant technique is his use of the word "you." The detached narrator (Gao)uses this word to refer to the subject (Gao)as if he is writing for and talking to himself. I have only seen this technique used in Gao's other novel translated into English "Soul Moutain." Later in the novel, when describing the past he uses "him" to describe the subject "Gao" living in Mao's China. The Narrator uses "you" to refer to the Gao in the present, expatriat state.
The use of "you" and "him" has a multilevel effect on the text and the reader. "Him" Gao of the past becomes "You" Gao of the present - a different level of detachment. "Him" Gao is the Gao of the present describing the Gao of the past as if from a distance, as if that person no longer exists and is dead or lost. The "You" Gao is more familiar, closer, intimate yet detached, a different, mature Gao of the present who is having these relationships, having his plays performed and struggling with the present novel and his past. If a man is the sum of his experiences we are left still wondering who the real Gao is and if he knows himself. It is as much a discovery of Mao's oppressive China as an effort of self descovery -- both painful.
The other effect of the use of "You" used by the narrator to describe Gao in the present is the author subtly drawing in the reader, to place him or herself in Gao's place, to become Gao. "You" also refers to the reader. We are invited to become Gao in our imagination as we read the text. The simplicity of one word creating so many layers of meaning and effect on the text and reader is on par with Jose Saramago's penchant for a lack of puntuation in many of his works.
This book is indeed something special, ingenious, and genuine. You may walk away haunted and disoriented, angry, frustrated, helpless and questioning your security. But as Gao makes clear at the begining, the experience of a Chinese mind under Mao can only be compared to the Holocaust under Hitler. Here East and West share a commonality of humanity at its best and worst, a common suffering and experience and a place to begin a dialog of understanding. Evil takes on many forms but it's effects on the human soul are universal.
Cultural Drift
To this day, the bizarre, cult-like events of the Cultural Revolution remain a prime focal point for Chinese novelists and, especially, memoirists. Writers from Adeline Yen-Mah, Jung Chang, Jan Wong, and Anchee Min to Yu Hua, Mo Yan, Dai Sijie, and Yan Geling have plumbed the depths of political capriciousness, human debasement, and the sheer will to survive in their own lives or in those of their fictional characters. Yet few if any Chinese writers have dared examine the effects of the Cultural Revolution on their later, post-Tiananmen Square massacre (1989) lives. Gao Xingjian's semi-autobiographical novel, ONE MAN'S BIBLE, is the first I have encountered, and the results are hauntingly devastating.
The story opens in a Hong Kong hotel in 1996 with the unnamed Chinese narrator (an internationally successful playwright) and his temporary paramour, a white Jewish woman of German descent named Margarethe. Theirs is an affair of mutual convenience and simple animal lust, but it is also a continuation of two largely hopeless searches for human closeness and warmth even as both characters deny that they seek such a thing. Margarethe works insistently to draw out the narrator's past, asking him to tell his life's story and suggesting that he turn it into a book. The narrator for his part insists that such a thing is not possible, that "things in China can not be explained by language alone," yet the book of his life unfolds before us in chapters that alternate (for the first half of the book) between his present-day encounter with Margarethe and his autobiography.
What emerges from this approach is a haunting tale of a rational, intelligent man trying desperately to cope with the utter irrationality of the Cultural Revolution. At first a nonpolitical citizen of Beijing, the narrator decides that he can best survive by becoming a faction leader. Having established his revolutionary bona fides, he then lays low and chooses his moves carefully, ultimately realizing that his next move is to the countryside, to keep his head down as a peasant farmer and teacher for perhaps the rest of his life. To maintain his sanity, he secretly writes about his feelings and experiences, keeping his papers well-hidden from nosy neighbors. Over time, he discovers that survival under Mao requires repeated acts of selfishness and disregard for the feelings of others, particularly the women who pass through his life, offering sexual temptation coupled with the threat of personal ruin. Ultimately, Margarethe returns to Europe and disappears from the alternating scenes, leaving Gao to examine ever more intensely his own past, his failings and regrets and lost relationships. He never shares with us the manner in which he "escapes" from China, partly because it doesn't really matter and partly because, in a psychological sense, he will never escape.
By using the alternating chapters, the author establishes a clear divide between history and the present while simultaneously illustrating how that history impinges on the narrator's current life. Gao takes this structure even further by bifurcating the narrator himself, referring to his present-day self in the second person (you) and to his pre-escape self in the third person (he). Yet they are clearly just variations of the same person; the narrator's past is an inescapable part of his present. He is scarred for life by the Cultural Revolution, and the lonely, distant, untrusting person he has become is a direct reflection of the persona he was forced to adopt in order to survive those times. He has learned to be a soulless user of others, and little else.
This is a dark and haunting examination of life and survival during the unimaginable events of the Cultural Revolution and its aftermath. Timed and placed in 1996 Hong Kong just before the British turnover over that island to the Communist government in Beijing, it is also a fascinating metaphorical contemplation of modern China, a nation of soulless users lusting after money the same way his narrator lusts after women. Gao Xingjian emerged from relative obscurity (at least outside of China) to become his country's surprise first Nobel Prize winner for Literature. In ONE MAN'S BIBLE, Western readers can get a sense of why he was chosen. Deservedly so, it would seem.
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