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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他满面通红,浑身颤抖,扑过来掐住我的脖子。

我喊道:

“来吧,杀了我吧!你杀了所有的朋友,现在轮到我了!”

他的脸孔抽搐地扭曲了。他眼中闪过敏辉的幽灵。

我最后还是把陆表兄的地址交给了他,让他把他带来见我。晶琦开始十分生气。当他听说陆表兄已经结婚了,就高高兴兴地出去找他了。

他一出门我终于长出了一口气。

没有了晶琦,我们的房间变得宽敞明亮。我起床洗了脸,坐在窗前梳头发。

旅馆的院中央种着棵高高的枣树。墙外孩子们用标准的京腔叫嚷。我想起陌生人的口音。他的发音略有不同,常把“r”音唇化。眼前又浮现了我俩在七韵山上的身影,他在那里守护着熟睡的我。在千风广场上,他偶尔会挥起折扇,不是图自己凉快,却为把

凉风扇向我这边。这份回忆刺痛了我的心。我一直不能理解他为什么会拒绝我。为什么他要眼睁睁地看着幸福从手中溜走?

天空中战机隆隆飞过,远处传来阵阵闷响。街上,有人在高喊:“日本人打来了,日本人要放火烧城了!”

北平的天气比满洲的城市干燥得多。骄阳当空,全城被晒得发亮,发颤,爆炸,房屋街道都溶于灰色的尘土之中。

我刚起床就困了。北平,祖先的城市,是一场不醒的梦。

刚躺回床上合了眼。父母的形象出现在我眼前,厉声叱咤。后来,我慢慢走向千风广场,朝棋盘走去,真高兴能够再次握住冰冷的棋子。陌生人还是像雕像一样,坐在我面前。他用棋子为我铺一条阳光灿烂的

大路。

整个晚上,晶琦都在留神倾听窗外的动静。他倚着墙睡着了。突然,一声惨叫把我唤醒。只见他手捂住头,疯狂地挣扎着。我冲下床抱住了他。晶琦好可怜,我怎能抛开他呢?

清晨,他摇醒了我。告诉我他的决定,与其在这儿等待屠杀,还不如冒着被炸弹炸死的危险,逃往南方。我真后悔自己一时任性。我渴望拥抱自由,结果却变成了晶琦的囚徒。

“我得见表哥一面。他是我在城中惟一的亲人。赶快找到他吧。我们和他一块儿走。”

晶琦的脸色变得难看起来。

“我昨天说他搬家了,其实是骗你的。我见到了他的老婆。她几乎要疯掉了。陆表兄抛弃了她。参了军,说不定已经是炮灰了。”

我大喊:

“你撒谎,你骗人,把表哥的地址给我。”

“给你,要想找,自己去找吧。”

我知道晶琦说的是真话。我绝望了:

“我要回东北。我要回家!我要回去下围棋!”

他冷笑一声:“太晚了,交通中断了。所有的火车都被日本人征去运送武器粮草。你别无选择,只能跟我走。”

“你妒忌敏辉。你为了把他从我的记忆中抹去,才让我背井离乡!”

“敏辉和你上床不过是逢场作戏而已。别忘了唐林才是他的大姐,他的老师,他的妻子。”

晶琦自以为他的话伤到了我,我却指着心口,狂笑起来:

“你也太傻了,敏辉死了,坟墓在这儿。我已经把他埋葬了。我从来没爱过他。他生前长得英俊,会讨我喜欢,我愿意见到你们为我争风吃醋。这一切不过是我的虚荣心在作崇。你明白吗,那种想变成女人的虚荣心。”

晶琦的脸色发黑。他冷冷地盯着我:

“你玩弄了我的感情,可我还是原谅你。你已不是清白之身,没人会娶一个失身的女子,这个世界上,只有我一个人是爱你的了,可以讨我最好的朋友玩过的女人!你只有我了!你是我的!”

敏辉也说过我的身体是属于他的,让我忠实于他,自己却去找另一个女子。晶琦和他简直是一个模子铸出来的。我一阵激动,几欲流泪。

“还有人在爱着我,我刚刚明白,我原来也爱他。我要回东北去!他在家乡等着我呢。”

“你别胡说了。他是谁?他从哪儿来?能告诉我他的名字吗?你说话啊!”

我突然意识到原来不知道他的名字。我对他一无所知。

晶琦看到我吞吞吐吐的样子,也就按下火气。他搂住我。我扇了他一耳光,在挣扎中还是被他吻了前额。

“跟我走吧!别在孩子气了。到南京去,我们会找到幸福的!”

90

一大群苍蝇应声飞起。

平原上弹坑累累,尘土飞扬,到处都是尸体。有些人的面孔还依稀可辨,他们肤色腊黄,张着大嘴。其余的人则不过是污泥中一团模糊的血肉。

我们的部队慢慢穿过这片广阔的墓地。听说几天前一个军团陷入了敌军的包围,厮杀到最后一刻。阳光刺得我几欲作呕。我此时方才明白,我们追击恐怖分子的战役不过是儿戏,现在我才真正见识了战争的伟大和残酷。

我们在一座废弃的小镇中遇到埋伏。子弹如冰雹一样砸道干裂的大地上。双方交火不久,我们发现这不过是一小撮留在这里阻止我们前进的亡命徒。冲锋号吹响了,撤退的中国人成了我们的活靶子。一个跑得最快的家伙马上就要冲入树林中。我扣动了扳机。他一头栽倒,不动了。

中午,我们遭到新一轮的伏击。身陷绝境的中国人变得异常凶狠。子弹横飞,我趴在山坡上,缩着头,钢盔插入土中。大地被晒得滚烫。一股温和的味道扑鼻而来,我不禁想起了围棋少女肌肤的香气。离我不远,一个士兵背部中弹,在地上翻滚号叫。我认出他是我手下一名爱兵。我们刚为他庆祝了他的十九岁生日。

战斗结束后,我执意要掩埋他。可上面传下出发的命令,我只能把他的尸体托付给后续部队。战场上,我们死后也不能人人平等。幸运者会被就地火化,其余的尸体则被扔进壕沟。最不幸的则会落到中国人手里,被他们砍下头,挂在竿头示众。

我参战的第一天宛若一场长梦。血腥的战斗,疲惫的行军,战友的阵亡,我对这一切都漠然视之。我在灰土蒙蒙的世界中无目的地前行,生死对我来说同样轻如鸿毛,同样让人作呕。我生平第一次对军旅生活失去了兴趣:我们像逆流而上的鲑鱼,向死亡游去。这是宿命,这是军令。不是美丽,不是辉煌。

晚上,军医见我面色蜡黄,神情恍惚,断定我中了暑,我任由战友们把凉毛巾搭在额上。我躺在草堆上,盯着民房中熏黑的天棚,对自己无限厌恶。

凌晨时分,枪炮声惊醒了我们。在手榴弹的掩护下,我们的机枪一阵狂扫。双方你来我往,突然,喧嚣中传来熟悉的军号。

原来,刚才进攻我们的居然是自己人。数名战士在这场误会中成了无谓的牺牲。

91

篝火噼啪作响。

晶琦打着呼噜。

周围上百名难民也都睡着了。流亡的同胞和逃荒的百姓没什么区别,他们一个个瘦弱苍白,睡眠中也是一副愁苦相。

我从书包中拿出一把剪子,尽全力把头发齐根剪断。我用丝带把两辫子绑好,放到晶琦身旁,蹑脚越过十几个身躯,冲入了茫茫黑夜之中。

我在树林中脱下旗袍,套上了从晶琦那里偷来的男衫。

曙光召亮了河北草原。难民们一大早就上路了,我迎着他们逆向而行。女人们身上大包小包,一手拉着孩子,一手牵着羊。婴儿们在母亲怀中哇哇大哭。男人们背着老人,运气好些的拉着辆黄包车,家什都堆上去。一个年近百岁的老妪怀中抱着一只母鸡,一双小脚,一步一晃。

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