Back to 80: My Literary Life

Zhejiang Province, Haiyan.

Yu Hua returned from Yanjing and still worked at the County Cultural Center, continuing to work on fishing day after day.

He has successfully passed the preparatory exam for the writing and creation postgraduate class jointly organized by Lu Academy and Yan Normal University. He will wait for the class to start at the end of the year for two months of intensive training, and finally the entrance exam.

Although he struggled at work, he did not fall behind when it came to reviewing courses and writing literature. On the contrary, he worked harder.

No, I just wrote a short story called "The Noon of the Howling Northwest Wind". It tells the story of an old woman whose child died unfortunately. Relatives and friends quickly notified the deceased's best friend, who came to mourn and comfort the old woman. .

It is a leap forward based on "Going Away at Eighteen", which cancels the narrative framework of the growth type and enhances value expression.

Compared with "Going Away at the Age of Eighteen", the difficulty of understanding is greatly increased.

After several revisions, Yu Hua originally sent the novel to Yanhe magazine, but now he hesitates.

Because he was at work during the day, he also saw this literary review in the "Literary News", criticizing the novel he wrote.

"Literary News"!

This is an authoritative newspaper sponsored by the Chinese Writers Association. It was the first time that my name and novel appeared in this newspaper, but it appeared in the form of being criticized.

Should I be happy or sad?

During the entire working time, Yu Hua kept smoking and looked worried.

After getting home from get off work at noon, after eating, Yu Hua did not go into the study as usual, but sat in the living room and smoked silently.

His wife Pan Yinchun soon noticed something strange about her husband and asked with concern: "Yu Hua, what happened?"

Yu Hua briefly told his wife the article published in the newspaper.

"Ah, it's so serious. I'm criticizing you by name? Yu Hua, why don't we write it down?" Pan Yinchun was a little panicked.

"Do not write?"

"Yes. It's so dangerous. Have you forgotten that our cultural center learned to oppose bourgeois liberalization some time ago? Could it be related to this? That is very dangerous."

"Where did you go?"

As Yu Hua spoke, he felt a little uneasy in his heart. Although he had read his "April 3rd Incident" repeatedly and was sure it was not related to any liberalization, he was worried that some people would use it to exploit it.

Pan Yinchun saw her husband's expression and further advised: "Yu Hua, writing is so dangerous, let's not write novels anymore, ah? Isn't it good to just live like this?"

"We both work in the cultural center. We are paid on time every month and still have free time. Many of my relatives and friends are envious of us."

"But this is not the life I want!" Yu Hua said firmly, turned and walked out.

Walking aimlessly on the street, Yu Hua lit a cigarette and watched people coming and going.

The small town in autumn was quite beautiful, with familiar scenery everywhere. People kept greeting him, and he forced a smile in return.

Suddenly feeling a little tired, tired of this unchanging life and this closed environment, he wanted to return to Yanjing, where there was a broader world and people who understood him.

At this moment, Yu Hua suddenly heard the crisp sound of a bicycle bell coming from behind, and then someone called his name.

"Yu Hua!"

Yu Hua looked back and saw a young man wearing a green post office uniform riding a bicycle. There were newspapers and magazines in the front and back bags of the bicycle.

Postman Xiao Wang.

Because Yu Hua sent articles to magazines, and the magazines responded a lot, they all got to know each other.

"Xiao Wang, do you have my letter?" Yu Hua asked with a smile.

"Yes." Xiao Wang jumped out of the car, took out a letter from the mail bag and handed it to Yu Hua, and took the "West Lake" cigarettes from Yu Hua.

"Hey, Yu Hua, you are a great writer now, why do you still draw West Lake? At least you have to draw Liqun, right?"

The two got acquainted, and Xiao Wang began to joke.

Great writer?

Yu Hua smiled bitterly.

The two chatted for a while, and Xiao Wang continued his work. Yu Hua then opened the letter, which was from "Yanhe" magazine.

As he watched, a smile appeared on Yu Hua's face, and the depression just now was gone.

Yeah, what are you worried about?

As long as the content of my novels does not contain any illegal content and the writing techniques are obscure, that is only an academic discussion.

If we say obscure, are Kafka's novels obscure?

Are Faulkner's novels obscure?

But those are all classics!

Also, are those stream-of-consciousness novels that Fang Minghua wrote in the past few years obscure?

Even though it was removed from the shelves, didn’t it still sell well in the end?

If you are afraid of everything, as my wife said, stop writing novels!

Hurry and send the article "The Noon of the Howling Northwest Wind" that I have written!

Yu Hua turned around and walked towards home.

In addition to Yu Hua, avant-garde novel writers Mo Yan, Su Tong, Ge Fei, Can Xue, etc. have all received letters from Yanhe magazine one after another.

The letter encourages them to stick to their creative ideas. If you have any good novels, just send them in and our editorial department will help you check them! "Yanhe" magazine is your natal family!

As a result, these contracted writers sent their novels one after another.

"Red Locust" by Mo Yan, "Song of the Lost Hanging Peanut" by Su Tong, "Trap" by Ge Fei, "Apple Tree Planted in the Corridor" by Can Xue, "Blue Sky and Green Sea" by Liu Sola.

What Fang Minghua didn't expect was that Li Hongying also sent her latest novel "Sad Polygon".

It is written that in 1969, a girl named Xiaoliu was taken to her second aunt's home by her father, and entered the mysterious world of the West District Zoo, where she met the handsome boy Ye Zi. Many years later, Xiaoliu, who became a young literary and artistic woman, began a long search to find out the secret past of her mother Tang Suhui, her second aunt Tang Yuying, and her aunt Tang Qingfang...

This is a relatively long novella, about 60,000 words, and it took Fang Minghua an afternoon to read it.

The novel uses a unique structure to connect two parallel worlds that are both fantasy and reality, peeling off cocoons from the ups and downs of the past to salvage the shining humanity.

It actually uses a stream-of-consciousness structure.

It's not bad, just modify it in some places and it can be used.

Compared with the piece "Poppy Flowers and White Moonlight" she wrote in Luyuan, it is a great improvement.

It can be seen that during this time, I can calm down and write.

Fang Minghua looked at the mailing address again: Shanghai.

The girl is going to take the writer's class in the Chinese Department of Fudan University.

Did you pass the exam?

The letter didn't say that.

Apart from the manuscript, nothing else was said.

Why.

Fang Minghua sighed softly.

I don’t think so much anymore, there are so many avant-garde novels, I can definitely set up a special account!

Yes, for this October issue, I will create a special account for avant-garde novels. This is my attitude!

Write one yourself.

What should I write about?

Fang Minghua looked at the sycamore tree outside the window and fell into thinking.

Why can’t it always be domestic or foreign?