MCLC: Mo Yan, the state, and the Nobel

[Denton, Kirk]

MCLC LIST
From: Rowena He <rowenahe at gmail.com>
Subject: Mo Yan, the state, and the Nobel
*********************************************************

Source: NYT (10/12/12):
http://rendezvous.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/10/12/the-writer-the-state-and-the
-nobel/

The Writer, the State and the Nobel
By DIDI KIRSTEN TATLOW

Beijing--A writer who names himself Don't Speak, an allusion to the fear
of getting into trouble in a one-party state, becomes a top literary
official of that state and goes on to win the world's biggest literary
award.

Fiction? A Kafkaesque literary thrust at the bitter, age-old struggle
between power and freedom? A story idea of which any author would be proud?

No, because that's what happened on Thursday, when Mo Yan, the vice
chairman of the state-run Chinese Writers' Association, won the Nobel
Prize in Literature.

The People's Republic of China has long coveted a Nobel Prize but was
unable to celebrate until now, because they kept being awarded to the
wrong people - free thinkers such as the exiled Gao Xingjian, who took
French citizenship (Nobel Prize in Literature, 2000), and the still-jailed
Liu Xiaobo (Nobel Peace Prize, 2010). That led to a joke that was
circulating here yesterday: "China has three Nobel Prize winners. The
first can't get in, the second can't get out, and the third is Mo Yan."
("Don't speak" is the meaning of Mr. Mo's pen name; his given name is Guan
Moye.)

Triumphant, still sounding a little angry, the online version of the
state-run People's Daily said on Thursday, according to Reuters: "This is
the first Chinese writer who has won the Nobel Prize for Literature.
Chinese writers have waited too long
<http://in.reuters.com/article/2012/10/11/nobel-prize-literature-mo-yan-chi
na-idINDEE89A08M20121011>, the Chinese people have waited too long."

More lightheartedly, The Beijing News dubbed this year's prize the "Mobel."

But if this year is proving a high point for Chinese literature of the
Communist era, the Frankfurt Book Fair of October 2009, where China was
the guest of honor, was a low point.

Convulsed by public arguments over censorship - the official delegation,
which included Mr. Mo, boycotted events where dissident Chinese writers
appeared - the event raised crucial questions about writing and power,
including this almost philosophic one: Can a writer in a one-party state
that practices massive censorship ever be truly free to create? Or do
censorship and compromise trap the writer's mind in ways he or she may not
be aware of?

Mr. Mo has been praised by many at home and abroad for his wide-ranging,
earthy writing, which in recent years has not been afraid to probe even
such sensitive matters as forced abortions under China's one-child policy.
But was he, even then, under a kind of spell?

At Frankfurt, where I was present, it fell to Mr. Mo to deliver the
opening writer's speech to an audience that included Xi Jinping, the
Chinese vice president who is tapped to become the country's next top
leader, and Angela Merkel, the German chancellor, who publicly called on
China to respect freedom of expression.

His performance was curiously dull. True, he said that a writer should
transcend politics. But these excerpts from my notes at the time (edited
somewhat for clarity and concision) convey the flat mood:

"Mo Yan's talk - the first half is dreary and wooden and the Chinese
journalists around me whisper that he didn't write it, it was written by
the writers' association. Then suddenly his voice brightens and he looks
his audience in the eye, as if he has added his own bit. He talks about
misperceptions of Germans in his hometown, and it's quite funny, though he
is careful to cause no waves. Germans in his home province of Shandong had
the reputation of having no kneecaps and once they sat down they couldn't
get up. Oh, and they were believed to have forked tongues. It's important
that we talk, in order to remove these kinds of misconceptions."

But, my notes continue, "Over all, it was a puzzling speech, a letdown.
It's not Orhan Pamuk's speech, which was the most talked-about event of
last year's fair." (In his opening talk the previous year, Mr. Pamuk had
blasted the Turkish government for curtailing freedom of expression.)

"It's a careful speech a real disappointment, in terms of what a writer
can do here. Lightweight," my notes run.

Later that year, in an interview with China Newsweek magazine (which can
be read here <http://www.chinanews.com/cul/news/2009/12-16/2021204.shtml>,
in Chinese, on the China News site), Mr. Mo responded to critics who said
he had toed the state line too closely at Frankfurt, where he walked out
of a literary symposium, along with Chinese officials, to protest the
presence of two dissident writers, Dai Qing and Bei Ling, creating a storm
of controversy that would dog the fair: "I had no choice," he said.

"A lot of people are now saying about me, 'Mo Yan is a state writer.' It's
true, insofar as like the authors Yu Hua and Su Tong, I get a salary" from
the "Ministry of Culture, and get my social and health insurance from them
too," he said.

"That's the reality in China. Overseas, people all have their own
insurance, but without a position, I can't afford to get sick in China,"
he said.

After his opening speech at Frankfurt, Mr. Mo seemed to disappear. My
notes record: "Things went downhill from there. Mo skipped his first
public reading, where he had been due to inaugurate a new stage. I arrived
five minutes early to find long faces at the stand of Horlemann Verlag,
German publisher of 'Life and Death Are Wearing Me Out,' " Mr. Mo's new
book.

"Fifteen minutes ago, according to a tight-lipped man with a company name
tag on his lapel, someone rang to cancel. He didn't identify himself, but
said he was with the Chinese delegation. No reason given. A slight? The
man shrugged. His face said it all. Later, Mo would skip a major event at
the Blue Sofa, hosted by German state television broadcaster ZDF," my
notes continue.

According to literary agents and publishers, Mr. Mo was irritated by the
endless political questions and, along with many delegation members,
deliberately avoided events. Mr. Don't Speak became Mr. No Show.

After the fair, still seeking answers, I traveled to Paris to interview
Gao Xingjian, the 2000 Nobel laureate.

In an interview in his apartment, Mr. Gao, without referring to Mr. Mo,
said he believed writers living under conditions of censorship were
inevitably crimped by it. In his view, a writer needed "total
independence" to create literature that would be "eternal."

"What is the relation between officials and literature? Nothing," said Mr.
Gao.

"They have nothing to do with literature, especially with literature. And
this was an official event," he said, referring to the fair.
"Where can officials and literature be connected? Nowhere," continued Mr.
Gao.

"And if they are, then it's merely official literature, and that's a
really laughable thing. So literature shouldn't be organized by officials.
If it is it'll certainly become ridiculous. What will happen in that
situation is that the officials will foist their politics on literature.
That's for certain. And in China, to this day, officials have always
meddled in literature. This isn't a new phenomenon. It's always been like
that. It was like that when I was still in China. That's why I left," he
said.

Speaking Thursday, Peter Englund of the Swedish Academy, which awards the
Nobel for literature, said that Mr. Mo was not a political dissident,
adding: "I would say he is more a critic of the system, sitting within the
system."

The question is, then: Can great, lasting literature come from there? The
Nobel committee thinks so. Do you?