Back to 80: My Literary Life

He was wearing a grey windbreaker and had a stern face.

Fang Minghua remembered that the last time he saw him was 9 years ago. At that time, Bei Dao was in his thirties, at the prime age of a man. His face was as stern as today, but he could not hide his spirits.

But now, under his stern face, he showed deep fatigue.

In recent years, the poetry in the mainland has gone from breaking ground to flourishing and then quickly declining, and it has experienced a short process like summer flowers.

Bei Dao's life is the same.

From a poet sought after by the whole nation to leaving his hometown in the end, now he can't even go back to his hometown!

When Bei Dao saw Fang Minghua, he smiled and the two shook hands.

There were more people in the hall, about twenty or so, all of them were Chinese with yellow skin and black eyes, sitting or standing with coffee in their hands, chatting in a low voice with people they knew, and of course there were also people sitting alone in silence, like Bei Dao.

Fang Minghua and Li Tuo were chatting, and they were familiar with him and had common language.

Although Li Tuo is not a writer, he is indeed an outstanding editor and literary critic.

"Li Tuo, after the selection of the second World Chinese Literature Award began, I was going to invite you to participate in the reading class to review manuscripts. Later, I found out that you resigned and went abroad. I felt so sorry." Fang Minghua said.

"It feels boring to stay in China, so I want to come out and see." Li Tuo smiled slightly and glanced at the whole audience. Look at the people who came today. Most of them have the same idea as me. Don't you think so too?"

"Me? I still have to deal with some personal matters, but I will return to China soon. Although it is not bad here, I think it is more free and easy to go back."

After listening to Fang Minghua's words, Li Tuo sighed slightly: "Yes. The material life here is much richer than in China, but in terms of spirit. Those who go abroad for scientific research are doing experiments and calculations everywhere. But we are different. We are engaged in literature. The culture and language of our motherland are your roots. If you give up your mother tongue and get close to it directly, your inspiration will easily wither. This is also the reason why our group of people get together from time to time. "

"Your words remind me of a sentence in Bei Dao's "Hometown Accent." Fang Minghua was also touched.

"He wrote: "I speak Chinese in front of the mirror, and I feel that my motherland is a hometown accent. Therefore, I am terrified by the alienation brought by this feeling of being far away from my motherland."

"Yes, that's what I mean." Li Tuo nodded, looked up at Bei Dao who was sitting alone on the sofa, and said in a low voice.

"Bei Dao wanted to return to China two years ago, but he was detained when he entered Yanjing and was refused entry. He had to come back. He didn't want to tell others the specific reason, and it was difficult for others to ask."

Fang Minghua was silent.

Before coming to this era, he had read Bei Dao's resume on the Internet, and it seemed that this was the case.

It was not until after the millennium that his father died and Bei Dao was allowed to come back to attend the funeral.

"Li Tuo, it should be okay for you to return to China?" Fang Minghua asked again.

"I don't have any problem. I can go back if I'm told to." Li Tuo's expression became relaxed.

"But what can I do if I go back? I definitely can't go back to Yanjing Literature. As for other magazines, to be honest, generally no one wants a "thorn" like me, and I don't like them either."

"Hey, if you want to go back, there's a magazine I think you can go to." Fang Minghua suddenly thought of something and said with a smile.

"Which magazine?"

"Tianya, run by the Hainan Writers Association."

"Where to?!"

"Don't you know? Tianya has been revised! Han Shaogong is now the president, and he asked me to write for him some time ago."

Fang Minghua told Li Tuo in detail what Song Tangtang told him.

Li Tuo was a little moved.

"Han Shaogong is an interesting person. He is not only a writer, but also a thinker. The Hainan Documentary magazine he ran a few years ago was very good, but it was a pity that he was born at the wrong time." Li Tuo smiled.

"If he takes charge of Tianya, it will probably give people a refreshing feeling."

"If you are interested, you can talk to him. I have his contact information. I think he will also welcome literary critics like you."

"Okay, then give it to me." Li Tuo said.

"Everyone, everyone. Everyone, please be quiet." At this time, Bing Ling said loudly: "Now that everyone is here, the literary salon officially begins. First of all, we thank Mr. Liu Junjie for providing us with such an environment!"

After that, Bing Ling took the lead in applauding.

Liu Junjie was very humble and said that everyone was a famous writer and literati. I feel honored to be a guest here. I will not disturb everyone's work. If you need anything, just tell me.

Warm applause rang out in the living room again.

Finally, Bing Ling talked about the theme of this literary salon, which turned out to be poetry!

"Not long ago, the Nobel Prize in Literature was awarded to Irish poet Seamus Heaney. This is the second time a poet has won the Nobel Prize in Literature after St. Lucia poet Derek Walcott won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1992. This shows that poetry, the jewel in the crown of literature, is still very popular, but our Chinese poetry has begun to decline. What is the problem? How can we change the current situation?"

"Many of you here are poets, or you write novels and poems at the same time. Everyone, please share your opinions." Bing Ling said at last.

After hearing this, Fang Minghua noticed that there were many poets participating in the salon this time.

Yang Lian, Duo Duo, Huang Xiang, Zhai Yongming, Ouyang Jianghe, Bei Dao, almost accounted for half of the participants in the salon.

It can be said that a large number of outstanding poets in the domestic poetry world have now moved abroad.

"I participated in the Rotterdam International Poetry Festival last year." The first person to speak was a man in his forties, with the pen name Duoduo, whose real name was Li Shizheng. He is also one of the representatives of Misty Poetry and has written poems such as "Courtesy: 38 Poems".

Duoduo is from Yanjing, and his Mandarin has a Beijing accent: "At this poetry festival, the famous Canadian poet Slote gave a speech titled "Defending Poetry", which is very interesting. He said that due to the game and conspiracy between commercialization and ideology, words and objects are seriously disconnected. Today's writing is like "self-generated bubbles and soilless flowers and plants."

Duoduo repeated Slote's speech, and Fang Minghua listened quietly.

Hearing Duoduo mention the word "defending poetry", he suddenly remembered that before this era, China also had a "defending poetry" campaign, but it was a farce.

A poetry reading called "Support Zhao Lihua to Defend Poetry" initiated by poet Yang Li was held at the Third Pole Bookstore in Yanjing. Halfway through the reading, the bloated poet Sophie Shu (a man) began to take off his coat and pants.

When he was left with only a white vest and black underwear, someone in the audience started to make a noise. Before most of the audience could react, the naked Sophie Shu had walked to the microphone in the center of the stage, holding a few pages of manuscript paper, ready to recite poetry, but was immediately stopped by the management staff, and the venue was in chaos.

When Fang Minghua saw the news online, he suddenly felt a chill. This muddy, is it defending poetry or ruining poetry?

Damn, if anyone says he is a poet now, he is embarrassed to say hello to others.

How sad.

Quoting Slote's speech immediately resonated with everyone.

The rampant materialism caused by modern industrial civilization has impacted the existence of ancient cultures in all countries, especially in China. After only ten years, the prosperous poetry has declined so quickly.

Fang Minghua didn't have much emotion.

It's still okay now.

Whether in China or in the current salons, at least there are still people who talk about poetry openly. Let's wait and see in a few years?