Debates on Mo Yan

It turns out my post yesterday on The Sirens of Titan wasn't as complete as it should be.

I finished off talking about Salo, a machine who subsists off orders, much like the soldiers in the Martian army. I said that the Tralfamadorians were the "ultimate" controllers. But, I forgot that even this was disputed in the end of novel.

Take Beatrice as an example. Exiled with her "mate" and son to Saturn's moon Titan, she remains there for the rest of her life. But she dedicates her days to writing "against the importance of the forces of Tralfamadore," claiming that their meddling has "had practically nothing to do with the case," since they got people to serve them "in such highly personalized ways." (315)

Then, more importantly, there is Salo. Being a machine, Salo's life has been based upon simply following the Tralfamadorian order to send a message to the farthest point in the solar system he could travel to. Salo's orders are not to open the message until having reached this point, but Rumfoord, before dematerializing out of the Solar System for good, really wants to read it. He manipulates Salo, taunting him for his machine-like behavior and refusal to open the message. Salo refuses, but at the disappearance of Rumfoord he finally breaks down and opens the message. This is a pivotal moment, though not because of what the message says. It is momentous because the machine has broken his orders--he has proved to have free will. If even the Tralfmadorian machine, Salo, can make choices--so can we.

"You asked the impossible of a machine…and the machine complied. The machine is no longer a machine,' said Salo. 'The machine's contacts are corroded, his bearings fouled, his circuits shorted, and his gears stripped. His mind buzzes and pops like the mind of an Earthling--fizzes and overheats with thoughts of love, honor, dignity, rights, accomplishment, integrity, independence--'"

There is also the idea that if Tralfmadorians were manipulating us (through Rumfoord, through our structures) just to ensure the arrival of the ship's missing piece, then why would they continue to do so once the piece was delivered? For it is delivered through Chrono, Bee and Malachi's son, when he arrives on Titan. Perhaps the Tralfamadorians will leave us humans to our own devices.

Another celebration of free will is Malachi Constant. Here is a speech that he got to repeating while on Titan:

'No matter what happens, no matter what beautiful or sad or happy or frightening things happen, I'm damned if I'll respond. The minute it looks like something or somebody wants me to act in some special way, I will freeze.' He glanced up at the signs of Saturn, curled his lip. 'Isn't that just too beautiful for words?' He spat on the ground. 'If anybody ever expects to use me again in some tremendous scheme of his,' said Constant, 'he is in for one big disappointment. He will be a lot better of trying to get a rise out of one of these statues.' ...
'I resign,' said Constant.
'I withdraw,' said Constant.
'I quit,' said Constant….
'We have taken part for the last time…in experiments and fights and festivals we don't like or understand!'"

There is one last observance of free will, again dealing with Salo, but it is quite sad and deeply connected to Vonnegut's personal life. After the final disappearance of Rumfoord, Salo is upset and lost. He has broken orders for an ungrateful friend, and now feels so purposeless that he commits suicide. Granted, he is a machine, and his suicide is reversible by re-building him, which Malachi manages to do years later. In real life, Vonnegut's mother (and other members of his family) committed suicide. In an interview I saw just this morning, Vonnegut says that when someone in your life, especially a parent, commits suicide, suicide is then posed in one's mind as a response to problems. It is no wonder, then, that suicide is presented in his novels. However, in this case (though suicide is obviously not a solution to anyone) it is a choice that Salo could make, and one that he does. By dismantling himself, Salo allows for Chrono to come and drop the good-luck piece, the missing piece, among the rest of the parts. When Malachi Constant slowly rebuilds Salo, everything is back together again, and humanity is free.

In my small, narrow mind, I see the novel as slightly contradictory. It does end with an affirmation of free will, but it also presents the issues of a history whose actions (be they past, future, or present) are always happening and inescapable.

Anyways, I have other things to talk about.
I finished Sirens a while ago already, and in the meantime I started Winds of Winter, by Mark Helprin. I read very mixed reviews, how it was beautifully written and magical on one end but very fluffy and substance-less on the other. I didn't find his writing to be as bad as some may have said, but there was something lacking in the novel that didn't want to make me keep going. Granted, I reached past page 100 (not that that means much, as long as the book is) and it was entertaining and I enjoyed what I read.

However, I remember one scene where the narrator, having been attacked, was learning how to sword fight. There was something about the way the characters were talking during the duel, leisurely, as if they were drinking tea. It seemed so unbelievable! And I figured, there were so many other books I could read, I'd save it for another time.

I went on to start Pow! by Mo Yan. When I first bought it, I knew nothing about Mo Yan and nothing about the novel, except for what the cover told me-- that it won the Nobel Prize in 2012. Since then, I have advanced in the book and learned about the author more. In 2010, the Nobel Prize for Peace went to Chinese Liu Xiaobo, who was not on the good side of the government and was in fact imprisoned. Now, with the Nobel Prize for Literature winner this past year being Chinese, there is another sort of uproar. The thing is, Mo Yan is apparently "working inside" the government, and many authors of all nationalities disagree with his winning on this ground. Some also say that he does not have the skill deserving of the Nobel prize for Literature. I really enjoy the novel, though I have not read it in light of how he treats China's history or its current state. I will pay more attention to that now that I am more aware of the debate. Here are a couple of articles on it, if anyone is interested.

NY Books, Does This Writer Deserve the Prizee

But it is crucial to note the difference between the way Mo Yan writes about the fate of the downtrodden and the way writers like Liu Xiaobo, Zheng Yi, and other dissidents do. Liu and Zheng denounce the entire authoritarian system, including the people at the highest levels. Mo Yan and other inside-the-system writers blame local bullies and leave the top out of the picture.

It would be wrong for spectators like you and me, who enjoy the comfort of distance, to demand that Mo Yan risk all and be another Liu Xiaobo. But it would be even more wrong to mistake the clear difference between the two.

NYTimes, Chinese Embrace Nobel Selection

“Basically, it’s quite simple,” said Peter Englund, permanent secretary of the Academy. “We are awarding a literary prize, and it’s on literary merit. The political fallouts and effects don’t enter into it.

“That doesn’t mean we regard literature as unpolitical or that this year’s prize winner isn’t writing political literature,” he continued, speaking of Mr. Mo. “You can open almost any one of his books and see it’s very critical about many things to do with Chinese history and also contemporary China. But he’s not a political dissident. I would say he is more a critic of the system, sitting within the system.”

NY Books, Why We Should Criticize Mo Yan