Shan Sa - La joueuse de go (chinese)

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Amazon.com Review
In war-torn Manchuria of the 1930s, two lives briefly find peace over a game of go in Shan Sa's third novel, The Girl Who Played Go (translated by Adriana Hunter). The unnamed characters, a Japanese soldier stationed in China and a 16-year-old Manchurian girl, narrate their stories in alternating first-person chapters. For the girl, the struggles of Independent Manchuria take a back seat to her discovery of love and the awakening of her sexuality. For the soldier, his idealized dreams of samurai honor and imperial conquest are slowly displaced by homesickness, troubled recollections of his earthquake-torn youth, and remorse over a lost love. But the solitary concerns of each character are eventually submerged by the tides of war. The girl's first lover, Min, is a revolutionary. His ardor for his virgin conquest is matched by a doomed patriotism. Simultaneously, the soldier comes to relish the girl's home town, Thousand Winds, in Southern Manchuria, and becomes distrustful of his own nationalism. His daily games of go with the young female stranger awaken a new passion in him that becomes entwined with admiration for her aggressive play.
As they hardly speak, the soldier and the girl's views of each other remain clouded in Sa's technically facile narrative maneuvers. Where the soldier sees love, the girls sees escape. By maintaining the first person, Sa (winner of the French Prix Goncourt du Premier) leads the reader not only to experience the Japanese and Manchurian perspectives of the occupation, but also she offers glimpses into the deep failure inherent in cross-cultural and cross-generational communication. Couple with the rich historical detail, Sa's narrative games reward close reading amidst the briskly paced spiral into tragedy. -Patrick O'Kelley
From Publishers Weekly
In her first novel to appear in English (her two previous novels, published in French, won the Prix Goncourt and the Prix Cazes), Sa masterfully evokes strife-ridden Manchuria during the 1930s. The first-person narration deftly alternates between a 16-year-old Chinese girl and a Japanese soldier from the invading force. As in the Chinese game of go, the two main characters-the girl discovering desire, the soldier visiting prostitutes, both in a besieged city-will ultimately cross paths, with surprising consequences for both. Sa's prose shifts between lavish metaphor-the girl's sister, grieved by an adulterous husband, is "not a woman but a flower slowly wilting"-and matter-of-fact concision ("We weary of the game and kill them," the soldier says of two Chinese prisoners, "two bullets in the head"). The most absorbing subplot is Sa's careful rendering of the girl's sexual awakening. Though at first intrigued by a liaison with a revolution-minded student, she is reluctant to enter adulthood, a state she views as fraught with injury and falsehood, "a sad place full of vanity." To escape her increasingly troubled life, she becomes a master at go, eventually taking on the soldier, who is in disguise. As the two meet to play, they gradually become entranced, even while war rages around them. The alternating parallel tales add an extra spark of energy to this swift-moving novel, as Sa portrays tenderness and brutality with equal clarity.
***
Japan 's bloodbath in China during the 1930s began in Manchuria, a resource-rich region in northeast Asia. This prelude to World War II in the Pacific haunts Shan Sa's story of young lovers whose worlds collapse in a typhoon of despair. The Girl Who Played Go, the fiction winner of the 2004 Kiriyama Prize, has an economy of prose that allows the novel to cover an epic time, while focusing on the tragedy of a Chinese girl who loves a Japanese boy. This boy comes to her as an enemy soldier trying to maintain his father's samurai ethic; she comes to him as a member of an aristocratic Manchu yellow-banner family that has served the Qing emperors in Peking. His side is on the rise, hers in decline.
The protagonists meet in a public park, a place where one can play the ancient board game of Go. Both play masterfully, initially knowing nothing of each other's identity. They are strangers in a game of strategy, much like their political leaders in Tokyo and Nanking. The interplay of two youngsters and two empires drives the narrative, allowing the author to counterpoise the Japanese story with its Chinese counterpart. Family portraits from both sides illuminate two teenagers driven to adulthood before their time, cheated of a full youth and the critical years when they might have discovered their humanity – already a challenge in a time of terror and terrorism with the Manchurian war regressing into bitter guerrilla fighting, which results in atrocities on both sides.
Shan's voice is unmistakably Chinese – feminine but hard, finely tuned and precise. Not a word is wasted, no excess of emotion shown. She colors her background with a few swift strokes that a master calligrapher would admire. Her dialogue has a staccato rhythm, somewhat like a Chinese Hemingway with bullet prose. Ornamentation is not for Shan, stark reality is.
More than pleasure, readers will become involved in a healing process. As horrific as the war was, its aftermath has brought a dreadful hatred between the former enemy states. Japan bashing dominates much of what comes through in recent Chinese literature. This book offers a way around the sepsis wasting away a possible healing. Shan has created two life-loving youths shattered in a hellish war that carries them and millions like them to early deaths. Even-handed in her treatment of both main characters, she allows a reader to see the richness of both Japanese and Chinese culture, making us imagine how they might each enrich the other once again
Reviewed by Patrick Lloyd Hatcher

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“鸿儿,你今天怎么有些怪怪的。”

“都是那些该死的小说教坏了我们。男欢女爱不过是作家笔下的发明。自由并不能带来爱情,爱情并不存在,何必苦苦强求?既然世界没有自由没有爱,我乐得去做男人的囚鸟。我要享受。我会用锦衣玉食,荣华富贵来补偿我的痛苦。这就是我的幸福。”

“你昏了头了?为什么说这样的傻话?”

鸿儿久久不答。笔在纸上哗哗作响。

“我从未告诉过你,两年前,我认识了一个银行家。昨天,我做了他的情妇,一会儿,他会来学校接我,把我安置到他的一幢房子里去。他会给我爸爸一大笔钱,让他走。老头儿也不会再来烦我了。”

我自问我们俩到底是谁疯了。下课铃打断了我们的通信。我收拾好书包,夺门而出。

她在校门口拦住我。

“你为我感到羞耻,是不是?”

我摇了摇头,大步离去。她扑上来,搂着我:

“求求你,不要抛下我!不要去北平!我有一种预感,你到了那儿就会大祸临头。答应我不要再见晶琦了!答应我留下来!我去告诉你父母,他们会把你关起来的。”

我用力推她。她摇晃了一下,摔倒在地上。我心中后悔,却无力朝她伸出手,只有跳上一辆黄包车,逃开了。

84

玉兰没有想到我会来,欣喜若狂,一瞬间脱了个精光,还帮我宽衣解带。我任她摆布。她的裸体使我勃起。我进入她的身体。我的快感如同过去的十二个小时一样纷繁杂乱。满洲女人的呻吟声听得我头疼。突然她用力想推开我。我掐着她的脖子,直到强烈的喷射之后才放开她。她在床上缩成一团,双手捂着脸。她的哭声让我勃然大怒。这个女人是个醋坛子。

我喝了口茶,坐在椅子上。她在那边不停地抽泣,我用水将全身仔细清洗,穿上衣服准备离开。

“你走吧!”她沙哑地嚷道,“你走吧,以后别再来找我!”

我径直朝门口走去。她一下子扑过来,抱住我的腿,泪水打湿了我的裤脚。

“求求你,别抛弃我....”

我一脚踢开她。

去往千风广场的路上,我意识到自己是世界上最可怜的人。我的意志已彻底崩溃,仿佛又回到了地震过后的那个少年,心中一片空虚、茫然。理智告诉我不该再回到棋桌,双腿却不由自主地向那里走去。我在想逃离她,却又不顾一切,要见她一面。

中国少女已经到了,穿着条新旗袍。衣领上面紧扣着两颗纽襻,越发显得优美庄严。我的心一阵狂跳,满面发烧。我注视着棋子,含糊地打了个招呼,坐了下来。

整局棋宛若汹涌的大海,黑色白色的巨浪追逐、嬉闹,推攘,相拥相吻,缠绕不息。

她像往常一样默不做声。她的沉默折磨着我。她到底在想什么呢?据说女人都没有记性。难道她已经把昨日的温情忘了?

昨夜归途,我没能鼓起勇气拉起她的手,她一定很失望。她向往的是男女普通的爱情。我怎样既不背叛祖国,又向她敞开心扉?怎样才能告诉她,我俩之间隔着一扇玻璃,我们生活在两个对立的世界?

她运子如飞,越下越快。我为她的神机妙算所折服。好棋!

突然,她放慢了节奏。

85

一步棋便是通往灵魂深处的一级台阶。只有围棋错综奇妙让我沉醉。

每只棋子的处境总会随着棋局的进行不断演变。它们之间的关系也越来越复杂,总是超乎棋手们的想象。围棋激起人的计算力和想象力,如流云般不可捉摸,飘忽不定。棋手们时刻都在保持警觉,毫无喘息之机。强者永远要更敏捷,更灵活,更自由,也要更无情,更精准,更凶狠。围棋是谎言。棋手们在棋盘上虚虚实实,尔虞我诈,力图置对方于死地而后快。

明知母亲在家中等着带我去看医生,我却迟迟不回。

转弯到了千风广场,与陌生人对弈。

他身上的长袍样式过时,再加上草帽和眼镜,看上去普普通通。可是他又显得那样的与众不同。他毛发浓密,虽然胡子刮得很光,可棕色的面颊上还是看得出靛青的须痕。他的睫毛又黑又长,双目炯炯有神。眼下两道发紫的黑眼圈。我想起敏辉在做爱后也有同样的眼圈。

我不好意思地把目光离开。千风广场上,棋手们早都回家了,一张张棋桌空空无人。在这里,我下过无数盘围棋,与无数张生疏的面孔对局。昨日的这些男人与今日的陌生人一样蔑视野蛮粗俗的物质社会,整日陶然于精神世界。

和晶琦一同出走,就要把我的新生活交给他。可他已经不再让我着迷。以前,他阴郁的面容总会看得我怦然心动,他的嫉妒让我沾沾自喜。自从他那天骑车带我回家后,我的指间一直存留着他的皮肤的温度。今天,他却不过是一个纠缠我的乞丐。敏辉、晶琦和我之间不再有那种剪不断、理还乱的缠绵。我曾喜欢的是一个双面英雄。没有了敏辉,晶琦在我眼中一文不值。一个幸存者的爱太沉重了。怎样才能向他解释,除了对旧情的怀念和对他的同情之外,我俩之间再无瓜葛。

可是,要是我明天不走的话,母亲一定会逼我去看医生。 刘 先生一号脉就会发现我的病中隐情。鸿儿已经出卖自己的肉体。我不想见到她穿金戴银、曲意逢迎的样子。敏辉死了,晶琦发狂了。整座千风城是埋葬青春的坟地。我为什么还要留下来?这里还有什么值得我留恋的呢?

陌生人起身,向我鞠了一躬。他说:

“对不起,我先走了,我们明天能继续下吗?”

这句看似普通的话刺痛了我的心。这一盘围棋使我战胜痛苦。一子接一子,我死而复生。要是我现在放弃棋局,无异于背叛了惟一忠于我的人。

86

夜幕降临,我想起了自己的间谍身份,中村上尉正在营中等我的汇报。昏暗中,中国少女依然专心下棋。我已经迟到了。可是灿烂的星空下,空旷的广场上,只有我俩相对而坐,这种美好也许是今生最后一次,对不起,上尉,请您多等一会儿吧。

但军纪严肃,还是走吧,没想到她拦住我:

“请等一下。”

她垂下头。眼皮微微颤动。她脸上的雀斑随着呼吸起伏有致,在夜色中宛如振翅欲飞的蝴蝶。

她说道:

“现在这里只有你我两人。除了风儿之外,没人偷听到我们的谈话。现在,我闭上眼睛,在黑暗中和您相对。我要向您提一个我睁眼时不敢提出的问题。告诉我,您到底是谁?”

中国少女的一句话听得我血往上涌。终于等到这一天了。她真的看穿了我的秘密?还是只想知道我姓甚名谁?我心潮澎湃,不知从何说起。

她又道:

“从前,我从不想知道对手是谁。这些人坐在您的位置上,看上去都是一个模样,只有不同的棋风将他们区分开来。昨天,我在气韵山间第一次读到您真正的面孔,透过您的延伸,我猜想到您来自何方:您的家乡皑皑白雪覆盖了大地,树木在燃烧。每行一步,都有无数的火把。您长大后,成了巫师。您可以握住人们的手,用您的热量治疗他们的创伤,使他们忘却饥饿和寒冷,疾病和战争。”

我闭上了眼睛,中国少女是这样遥远又是这样贴近。

我心中泛起一阵酸楚。我不配这份感情。我是个间谍,我是敌人,我是中国人的刽子手。

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