Yiyun Li - A Thousand Years of Good Prayers

“A subtle and original perspective on the latest chapter in China’s turbulent history. . Li is a valuable firsthand guide to this decade of mind-bending change. . [She] shows a light touch that, combined with her gift for characterization, saves her stories from turning into consciousness-raising exercises. . Poignant.” — The New York Times Book Review

“Thoughtful, deceptively quiet, and always surprising, these seamless stories remind us that regardless of the society we inhabit, the most basic human emotions. . transcend history and geography, and are universal, timeless, and endlessly mysterious.” —O: The Oprah Magazine

“The stories in A Thousand Years of Good Prayers are both contemporary and universal, telling of love, death, and the joys and burdens of family against the backdrop of China’s sudden modernity. . What’s clear from this volume is that the delineations of [Li’s] talent have only begun to come into view.” — Elle

“Yiyun Li is a true storyteller. Great stories offer us the details of life on the riverbanks: birth, family, dinner and love, all framing the powerful flow of terror, death, political change, the river itself. A Thousand Years of Good Prayers is as grand an epic and as tenderly private as a reader could wish.” —AMY BLOOM, author of Come to Me

“An extraordinary feat of intelligence and style. Li writes as though English were her native tongue. Her prose is wonderfully complex, emotive and smart. . Her sentences not only move some fine stories along, they also dramatize a serious understanding of contemporary life and a deeply felt response to the rigors and vagaries of drinking from modernity’s sometimes bitter cup.” — San Francisco Chronicle

“A remarkable debut. . It’s one of those rare short story collections where you find yourself reading one perfectly realized gem after the next. . Each of these stories takes you to a different place, and each feels fresh, wise and alive, creating a fascinating, horrifying and heartbreaking picture of life in a country where the past never goes away.” — The Washington Post Book World

“Absorbing. . expertly plumb[s] lives silenced by disappointment, where release can come in unexpected forms and as suddenly as a long-forgotten memory.” — Entertainment Weekly

“This extraordinary collection reminds you just how big a short story can be. With wit, ruthlessness, and an understanding of human nature — its grand follies, private sorrows, and petty dreams— A Thousand Years of Good Prayers may remind you of Flannery O’Connor, though Li is an original. Read this book and marvel at a writer both at the height of her powers and at the start of a brilliant career.” —ELIZABETH MCCRACKEN, author of The Giant’s House

“One of the year’s most auspicious debuts.” — San Jose Mercury News

“A beautifully executed debut collection. . Li deftly weaves a political message into her human portraits. . Powerful.” — Publishers Weekly

“Complex, moving, and surprising.” — Library Journal (starred review)

“With great tenderness, tact and humor, these stories open a world that is culturally remote from us, and at the same time as humanly intimate as if its people were our own family and their thoughts the thoughts that lie nearest our own hearts.” —MARILYNNE ROBINSON, author of Gilead and Housekeeping

“[A] superb debut. . [Li’s] settings are vital and her characters richly complicated. . Provocative and memorable fiction that is at once culturally specific and universal.” — Booklist

“ A Thousand Years of Good Prayers is not only an outstanding first book of fiction by a young writer, it is a literary event that transcends language. Li’s stories express an inexpressible joy. One can only wish Yiyun Li many happy returns to her writing desk.” — Providence Journal

GRANNY LIN WALKS IN THE STREET ON A November afternoon with a stainless steel lunch pail in her hand. Inside the lunch pail is an official certificate from her working unit. “Hereby we confirm Comrade Lin Mei is honorably retired from Beijing Red Star Garment Factory,” says the certificate in bright golden characters.

It does not say that Red Star Garment Factory has gone bankrupt or that, being honorably retired, Granny Lin will not receive her pension. Of course it will not provide such information, for these facts are simply not true. “Bankrupt” is the wrong word for a state-owned industry. “Internal reorganization” is what has been kindly omitted in the certificate. And, mind this, Granny Lin’s pension is being withheld only temporarily. For how long, the factory has no further information to offer.

“There is always a road when you get into the mountain,” Auntie Wang, Granny Lin’s neighbor, says to her upon being informed of Granny Lin’s situation.

“And there is a Toyota wherever there is a road.” The second line of Toyota’s commercial slips out before Granny realizes it.

“There you go, Granny Lin. I know you are an optimistic person. Stay positive and you will find your Toyota.”

But where on earth can she find a way to replenish her dwindling savings? For a few days Granny Lin adds, subtracts, and divides, and she decides that her savings will run out in a year — in two years if she can skip a meal here and there, go to bed right after sunset, and stay bundled up so that she does not have to feed the insatiable stove extra coal balls through the long winter of northern China.

“Don’t worry,” Auntie Wang says the next time they meet each other at the market, looking down at the single radish Granny Lin has bought for her dinner, as plump as a Buddha, dwelling between her two palms. “You can always find someone and get married.”

“Get married?” Granny Lin says, and blushes.

“Don’t be so conservative, Granny Lin,” Auntie Wang says. “How old are you?”

“Fifty-one.”

“You are even younger than I am! I am fifty-eight, but I am not as old-fashioned as you. You know what? Young people no longer have a monopoly on marriage.”

“Don’t make me a clown,” Granny Lin says.

“I am serious, Granny Lin. There are so many old widowers in the city. I am sure there are rich and sick ones who need someone to take care of them.”

“You mean, I can find a caretaker’s position for old people?” Granny Lin asks.

Auntie Wang sighs and pokes Granny Lin’s forehead with a finger. “Use your brain. Not a caretaker but a wife. That way, you can at least inherit some cash when your husband dies.”

Granny Lin gasps. She has never had a husband in her life, and the prospect of a dead husband frightens her. Yet Auntie Wang makes the decision for her right there and then, between two fish stands, and in a short time she finds Granny Lin a match.

“Seventy-six. High blood pressure and diabetes. Wife just died. Living alone in a three-bedroom flat. Pension two thousand yuan a month. Both sons married and earning good money in the government,” Auntie Wang says, surprised that Granny Lin remains unimpressed. “Come on, Granny Lin, where else can you find such a good husband? The old man will die in no time, and the sons are so rich they won’t mind sparing some of the old man’s savings for you. Let me tell you, this is the most eligible family, as far as I know. Their doorsill has been worn away by the feet of the matchmakers. But of all the possible wives, they are interested only in you. Why? Because you are never married and you have no children. By the way, Granny Lin, how come you aren’t married? You never told us the reason.”