I have read Yu Hua's columns in the New York Times for some years and enjoy and learn from his lens on modern China. For some reason I have not read his books before this one though this book and two of his novels, To Live, and Chrinicle of a Blood Merchant, have been in my TBR for years. I am so glad I finally got to this smart, painful, sometimes sweet (but not saccharine) eye-opening essay collection. China in Ten Words offers something hard to come by, cultural criticism anchored with memoir from China. While I admit that sometimes this reads a little moralistic -- this is especially true in the section on love and romance -- mostly it is just good storytelling with loads of personality that walks us through the seismic shifts in China from the Cultural Revolution (the time during which Yu grew up) to the current obsessive amoral money-obsessed economic powerhouse. It is strongest when Yu shares his childhood experiences to illustrate the ways in which human impulses to do good have been subverted.

In addition to cultural criticism, there is a linguistics angle to these essays, about how we turn words describing bad things into good or neutral words and thereby erode the moral fabric of a place and a people. So much of what he discusses in early 21st century China can be applied to 2015-present America. Yu's perspective is illuminating.

Published in 2010 this book uses 10 common Chinese words to illustrate the points mentioned above. Surprisingly, though the shift seems revolutionary it turns out that many things haven't changed as much as you might think. The stated goals are 100% different, but the people's behaviors and choices not so much. I was particularly taken by the "Copycat" and "Bamboozle" sections which takes us down the road to post-truth China (though China has been sort of post-truth for nearly a century.)

Unsurprisingly, this book is banned in China. I am surprised and pleased Yu Hua is allowed to write and live in China (and travel abroad in support of his books.) I will be moving on to other works. ( )

Először – nyilván – a különbségek tűnnek fel: a maoizmus diszkrét bája, meg a ’90-es évek robbanásszerű gazdasági ugrásának rejtett taposóaknái. Hogy ez mennyire egzotikusan „kínai”. De aztán kicsit mögé kukkantunk, és meglátjuk a párhuzamokat – hogy ez az abszurd mennyire rokon a mi saját kis abszurdunkkal. Jü Hua amúgy is szemre az eltérésekből építi fel esszékötetét, de nemcsak „nyugatiság” és „keletiség” eltéréseiből, hanem a Mao-rezsim és a jelenkori, sajátosan ázsiai vadkapitalizmus* között tátongó szakadékból is. De a szerző arra is ügyel, hogy eme különbségek mögött rámutasson a bujkáló azonosságokra. Jü Hua ifjúságának döntő élménye ugyanis a kulturális forradalom volt, amely során Mao ügyesen használta arra a legalsóbb néprétegekben feszülő elégedetlenséget, hogy felszámolja saját ellenzékét – elérte, hogy a tömegek haragja ne rá, hanem a közte és a tömeg között tébláboló köztes rétegre, az értelmiségre irányuljon. A gazdasági ugrás ugyanezt a széles körben elterjedt feszültséget, a személyes sorssal való elégedetlenséget aknázza ki, csak épp nem a kommunizmus győzelmét tűzi zászlajára, hanem a meggazdagodást: lehetővé teszi, hogy akiben van vállalkozó hajlam, az megszedje magát, ügyeskedjen, „kamuzzon”, hamisítson, korrumpáljon. Valaki másnak a kárára, természetesen. A másik párhuzam pedig a híres Mao-mondásban érhető tetten, miszerint "a forradalom nem díszebéd”, hanem "erőszakos cselekedet**”, magyarán ahol fát vágnak, ott hullik a forgács, és nem lehetünk könyörületesek. Ez a gondolkodásmód – az átlagember életének szélsőséges semmibe vétele egy magasztos cél érdekében – ugyanúgy jelen van a mai államgondolkodásban, mint Maóéban: ahogy a Nagy Vezért nem érdekelte, ha komplett tartományok pusztulnak éhen a „Nagy Ugrás” lázában, úgy utódai sem haboznak, ha egy új ipari park építésekor le kell dózerolni egy lakókörzetet, csak most nem a kommunista ideológia, hanem a GDP növekedése szentesíti a célt. Az pedig, hogy mindez milyen emberi és környezeti károkat okoz, kit érdekel. A hosszú távon bekövetkező problémákkal ráérnek majd foglalkozni az unokáink.

Jü Hua mindezt személyes példák tömkelegével igyekszik illusztrálni, érdekesen, gyakran kifejezetten szórakoztatóan – bár ami azt illeti, nekem néha kicsit sok is volt az a példa. Mondjuk minden ötödiket becseréltem volna egy mélyebb elemzésre, és akkor rendben vagyunk. De azért ajánlom ezt a könyvet – annyit hallunk a kínai gazdasági csodáról, meg hogy micsoda követendő példa az „ázsiai út”, érdemes egy picit mögé nézni, nincs-e a szép illúziók mögött egy csúnya kis gonosz manó.

* Amely vadkapitalizmus magát továbbra is kommunizmusnak hazudja, pedig abból csak az állami túlszabályozás gyakorlatát őrizte meg, ám a vagyoni egyenlőségnek még az illúzióját is feladta.
** ”A forradalom nem díszebéd, nem egy írásmű megalkotása, nem egy kép megrajzolása, és nem hímzés; nem lehet olyan kifinomult, olyan könnyed, illedelmes, olyan gyengéd, kedves, udvarias, tartózkodó és nagylelkű. A forradalom lázadás, erőszakos cselekedet, amellyel az egyik osztály megdönti a másikat.” ("Vizsgálati jelentés a hunani parasztmozgalomról" (1927. március), Válogatott Művek I. k.) ( )

Yu Hua takes 10 words which define the thinking of the modern Chinese people and takes us on a trip down memory lane - both his and his country's - defining and illustrating the words. Born in 1960, he ended up in school during most of the Cultural revolution and that shaped how he looks at language and words - their meaning changes and gets redefined but the old meanings never get forgotten.

If you are expecting a history of modern China, look somewhere else. Yes, there is a lot of history in this book but it is a mix between personal recollections and personal observations of other stories than a proper story. The 10 essays (some of them more connected with each others that others) all start with the Cultural revolution and end up today (well, the today of 2010) and they all draw comparisons between the two eras that should be as different from each other as humanly possible. And yet, they are not. Because they are old part of the same.

Some of the anecdotes being told were amusing (how to find a book to read in China when all books were banned and burned for example or where to find a cold place in a hot day), some made me rethink what I thought I knew about China (hitting a teacher was something I did not expect - especially in a society known for teacher' veneration). They all add up to a picture of a China that Yu Hua wants us to see. And that is as important to remember as is what we do actually see in the text.

The book was banned in China (it is still not published there - the Chinese version is published in Taiwan; parts of it were reworked into a different book in 2015 and that was published). And that is not surprising - the China of this book is ugly and not what the leadership would like to present to the world.

One thing that he mentions as part of his exploration of the words usage in Chinese but which is also highlighted by his choice of words is how the same words may hint at different things depending on who uses them. The last two "copycat" and "bamboozle", especially the last one, have very different connotations in English that some of the ones that apparently are there in Chinese (but also some similar ones). And for others, the meaning comes from history. That made me thing about my struggle with English occasionally (less and less as time passes and I live in an English speaking country now) - when I see a word or an expression from the prism of my Bulgarian viewpoint.

And just as a last note, at the very end of the essay about Reading , I found one of the best definitions of literature I had seen lately:

"If literature truly possesses a mysterious power, I think perhaps it is precisely this: that one can read a book by a writer of a different time, a different country, a different race, a different language, and a different culture and there encounter a sensation that is one's very own."

He was talking about the German poet Heine - but I suspect that any reader has their own example of this.

Not a perfect book by any means (and the constant bringing up of the Cultural revolution as a parallel of the current times did get a bit annoying at parts and made me wonder if it was designed to provoke) but an entertaining one nevertheless. ( )

A fascinating and dryly amusing set of essays, Yu Hua's China in Ten Words mixes the author's boyhood experiences of the Cultural Revolution with reflections on the mores of contemporary China. Tonally, each essay wobbles a bit internally—from wry raconteur to irritated polemicist and back again—but each provides a marvellous glimpse at the complexities and contradictions of life in modern China. ( )

Great little book, which I do think sums up China very nicely. The author is one of my favorites, and here in this book particularly he reminds me a lot of Mark Twain, although he reports being compared to Ernest Hemingway--fair enough. Anyways, the book is largely based on the author's biographical sketches but his anecdotes are charming and informative. He circles back to the Cultural Revolution that took place in China from 1966 until 1976, and I can't knock him at all for coming back to it repeatedly, because it greatly shaped the lives of Chinese and it uncannily betrays many idiosyncrasies and contradictions, if you will, of life in China, even today. ( )