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墨書 Inktalez
On July 9th, the college entrance examination ended, and on October 8th, I left my hometown to report to school. The summer of 1989 was the longest vacation of my life. The farm work at home and the matters related to the exam and further studies were not particularly taxing. Suddenly, I found myself with plenty of free time, no longer needing to study diligently like in previous summers. Following my heart, I began to read some "leisure books" that I had never had the time or mood to explore before. This became the main theme of my three-month vacation.
Although the books I read were casual and varied, I still subconsciously categorized them. Some were purely for passing the time, like "Jingu Legend" and "Story Weekly," which often appeared in Liu Dawei's house, and occasionally included novels like " The Complete Legend of Huang Tianba " and "Xue Rengui Fights Against Tang," which my grandfather had finished reading. There were also magazines brought home by my father, suitable for both teachers and students, such as " Language & Literature Newspaper " and "Hunan Education," which I skimmed through. Finally, there were classic works that I respected, regardless of whether they were Chinese or foreign, ancient or modern; as long as I could find them, I would read them slowly. During this vacation, I managed to read three significant works: "Autumn," "Gone with the Wind," and "Dream of the Red Chamber."
The first book that caught my eye was "Autumn." From high school Chinese textbooks, I learned that Mr. Ba Jin's "The Torrent Trilogy" began with "Family." However, since this concluding work was available, I certainly wouldn't insist on starting from the beginning. Moreover, given the economic conditions at that time, buying books was a luxury; borrowing them depended on others' moods and their inventory. This particular copy of "Autumn" was one I found among a pile of old papers at a teacher's house; not only was the cover torn off, but several pages at the front were also missing. Perhaps it was Ba Jin's writing style that attracted me or perhaps it was the autobiographical elements that resonated with me. This incomplete book with characters and stories that felt somewhat abrupt became my best solace while waiting for exam results.
In the context of the educational system and political climate of that time, this trilogy was labeled as a critique of feudal patriarchal authoritarianism. Through the decline and fragmentation of the Gao family, it depicted the collapse of feudal patriarchal systems and the revolutionary changes sweeping through the younger generation's lives. "Autumn," in particular, illustrated the disintegration of an old family: Jue Xin's wife Rui Yu died during childbirth, and their son Hai Chen also died from convulsions; Jue Min married Miss Qin and moved out; Shu Ying escaped with her brothers' help; Gao family's third elder Ke Ming finally awakened after his daughter left, while his two younger brothers continued their usual bickering at home, sometimes even arguing about dividing the family property. Ultimately, Ke Ming died from frustration caused by his brothers. The Gao Mansion was sold off, leaving the Gao family's legacy in tatters as everyone regarded each other like enemies.
However, what resonated with me was not Jue Min—who was widely praised for his revolutionary fervor—but rather Jue Xin, who seemed weak and conflicted. As a scion of the Gao family, he represented hope for everyone in his household. On one hand, he fantasized about changing old patterns; on the other hand, he felt powerless against traditional norms. This inner conflict shaped him into a character with a typical "dual personality." In the end, he could only focus on others while watching his wife and child—and his own love—drift away.
Years later, as I grew older and encountered more knowledge, I finally understood why Jue Xin's story struck such a chord with me. To a large extent, I possessed a typical split personality: traditional at heart yet avant-garde in thought; quiet in reality yet yearning to break free. Moreover, I bore the responsibility of being the eldest grandson; although I had escaped from the small mountain village where my ancestors had lived for centuries, I could not escape the confines of a sickly society. During a period of great societal change, adhering to my moral principles often led to repeated setbacks. Even when my emotions were clear-headed, there remained an underlying sense of melancholy and confusion.
After finishing "Autumn," my hunger for literature drove me to search for more food for thought until I stumbled upon the classic "Dream of the Red Chamber." My first encounter with this monumental work occurred during middle school; unfortunately, at that young age, I couldn't comprehend it and set it aside after reading just a few pages. This time around—perhaps due to having matured or influenced by two chapters discussed in high school—I picked it up again amidst my hunger for reading. To my surprise, after two or three days of reading it continuously, I found myself gradually immersed in its depths.
Looking back today on that experience, what remains memorable are mostly the judgments on the Twelve Beauties, various poems and songs, along with peculiar prescriptions for pills; specific plots or emotional experiences may have seeped into my bones but are no longer vivid in memory. Perhaps reading "Dream of the Red Chamber" half-understandingly planted a seed within me—after all, years later I would pick it up once more.
Upon receiving my university acceptance letter, I visited my grandmother's house and continued searching through my grandfather's bookshelves until I discovered a three-volume set of "Gone with the Wind." Once again driven by hunger for literature—my high school teacher Xie Guoqing had recommended another world classic titled "Johann Christoph," but its tongue-twisting name frustrated me so much that I shied away from foreign classics thereafter—I felt grateful just to find any book in rural areas without being picky about it. Besides, this set was titled "Gone with the Wind," which might spark an interest similar to what "Autumn" did.
It was my first encounter with literature from a female perspective; imagining scenes from plantations on the American continent based on its text captivated me deeply. It was also my first exposure to different war scenarios and vividly fleshed-out heroes. In just one week, I devoured over 1,100 pages of this lengthy novel from cover to cover. With plenty of time before school started and no pressure from my grandfather to return it yet, I began to read selected chapters more carefully while jotting down passages that resonated with me—a new mode of “reflection” through reading and note-taking had begun.
I am grateful to Margaret Mitchell for introducing me to customs and cultures from distant continents; thanks to Rhett Butler for showing me how foreigners pursue love (which echoed some chapters from a forbidden book called “The Lover of Chataine” that I'd glimpsed at school); ultimately thanks to my grandfather for opening a door leading me into foreign literature and note-taking…
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