Brothers by Yu Hua

brothers-by-yu-huaWhat I loved about Brothers by Yu Hua is that within the pages of one book I found a story that made me laugh and cry over and over. The tale is both horrifyingly dark and twisted, but with seamless transition, Yu Hua writes some of the best comic scenes I’ve ever read. Life in America for the past eight years has made it possible to understand the absurdities about which Yu Hua writes, and for this reason, they are believable.

The story of Baldy Li, one of the most memorable characters I’ve encountered in fiction, and his brother, Song Gang, opens right before Mao’s Cultural Revolution. Scenes in which neighbors are unified in a common cause or belief and turned into enemies the very next day are chillingly similar to what is happening in the world today. When Yu Hua writes about Li Lan’s, Baldy Li’s, and Song Gang’s grief over the death of Song Fanping, I thought my heart would rip in two so great was their anguish.

The two definitions of stupidity (knowing the truth, seeing the truth, but still believing the lies, and doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result) often came to mind while I read Brothers. I’m watching the premise of the story take place right in front of my eyes as the youth of America believe they can make certain political systems work in their generation even though overwhelming evidence of failure exists in other countries. I have to wonder if they’ve forgotten the past or are purposely not being taught. In either case, we’ll all be doomed for it.

The story is engaging based on the time period and cultural differences. Yet the prose is so simple that I have to wonder if this is due to the translation from Chinese to English or if the author chose to keep his words plain. In either case, his writing style works. Another thing I noticed while reading this translation was the repetitive nature of the writing. I’ve only encountered this in one other translation, Haruki Murakami’s 1Q84, and I wonder if this is a style particular to Asian writers. I find it lends emphasis to details and storylines.

Yu Hua broke the rules of writing brilliantly by not following plotting formulas. Two ways in which he did this was by the introduction of a new character and storylines in the last one third of the book. Not surprisingly, the pacing of the novel was not interrupted, and as a reader I wasn’t jarred out of the book. Obviously, Yu Hua writes for intelligent readers, and in this way, it reminded me of Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo with its large cast of characters, interwoven storylines, and backstory. In both cases, readers willing to stay with the book to the end will absolutely not be disappointed.

I know the book was written as a criticism on political systems and to show all the evil and craziness that stems from them. I found my interest focused on the relationships of the characters enduring life under the various political systems and how their relationships were further affected by their personalities which dictated how they reacted to circumstances and each other.  I came to the conclusion that all one can probably do in such a situation is be kind, work hard, and do no harm.

Despite the depth of the tale Brothers presented, as I said there were some hilarious moments including a chicken search party, Yanker Brand underwear, and actual blind men drawing blind conclusions. But again, that’s part of Yu Hua’s ability to make a reader laugh while getting his point across. The best line though was probably Yanker Yu explaining politics to Popsicle Wang when he said, “…comfortable circumstances breed freethinking, which is why the rich love politics.” I laughed aloud as I shuddered thinking how stirred up the politicians are keeping the world.

The Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas

the-count-of-monte-cristoYou’ve probably heard it said many times that a movie is never as good as the book on which it was based. I’d have to agree 99.9% of the time, because I have two movies in mind that actually were better than the book. Still, as my aunt once pointed out to me, the reason I enjoyed movies based on my favorite books, and that is a rare occurrence, is because I read the book first and was familiar with all the details and nuances of story and character that never made it on screen.

With all that being said, The Count of Monte Cristo is one book that will never be captured in its entirety in a movie, and yes, I know it’s been made into a movie, and no, I haven’t watched any version; I don’t have to, I’ve read the book. All 1276 glorious pages. But perhaps a mini-series would do a good job of catching a few extra, interesting tidbits, you say. I’m sorry, my friend, that will never be sufficient.

As I read Alexandre Dumas, admittedly for the first time, his writing constantly reminded me of Anne Baxter’s portrayal of Nefertiti in The Ten Commandments. Both Dumas and Baxter displayed the same intensity of passion for his and her craft. I’m talking over-the-top passion that sweeps one away with what they are reading, or in the case of Baxter, watching.

The cast of characters is as interesting and varied as the type of people one might view walking through a crowded bazaar in a foreign country. Rich and poor, saint and sinner, they all have wonderful personalities, even when it’s as an antagonist, and backstory galore. The interesting thing is I didn’t once mind reading their histories because without it the overall novel would have lost its magic and momentum. Dumas wove together what would have been for writers of today probably two or three novels. Yet he made the enormous quantity of words and pages work. He made it flow. He made me sigh when I finished the novel the same way I would upon leaving great friends.

The Count of Monte Cristo is not for the timid or impatient reader nor is it for someone who wants a quick hit story that translates well onto the big screen. Everything that makes the novel a classic is, unfortunately, being stripped out of writing today. There’s a reason it’s a classic, and I believe one would do well to follow in the footsteps of the masters.

One such technique, which Dumas employed brilliantly, was to engage his reader directly with gentle reminders of previously mentioned details, scenes, and actions. The writers of today would probably label this poor writing because they’ve been taught not to do anything that would jar the reader out of the story. How absurd. I wasn’t jarred out of the story, my mind so feeble or easily distracted that I took offense with the author. On the contrary, I found it tantalizing for this passionate man to say, “Now stay with me because I have something even more incredible to show you, and I didn’t want you to forget a single detail in my extensive, worthy novel.”

My classical literature book group read the Robin Buss translation published by Penguin. I researched Buss as a translator, and the general opinion about his translation of The Three Musketeers was that he did the best and most accurate job. Therefore, I trusted him for The Count of Monte Cristo. The point on which all agreed regarding the Buss translation is that it kept certain sexual overtones in place which had previously been removed or glossed over by other translators and/or editors so as not to offend delicate, Victorian sensibilities. Don’t allow this tiny fact to scare you off from reading Dumas. Compared to novels produced today for tweens and teens, the sexual scenes Dumas wrote would be considered implied at best.

In conclusion, if you’re looking for an easy yet engaging read, an exciting romp through history full of adventure, dashing, mysterious men, maidens who blanch and faint, and above all a great story of well-deserved revenge, then I highly recommend The Count of Monte Cristo.

%d bloggers like this: