As Ah Yi said:
This book is a collection of essays or short stories I have written in recent years. But it's not a casual book. I am used to recording an event (or scene) that hurts me or seriously affects me. Many times I feel like a normal person, so I think those things will also hurt and affect others. I am lonely and honest. I analyze others and myself. Compared with novels, these articles are more like painstaking efforts than just a product for sale.
I always take my life to meet and endure this world without reservation. But it eventually banished me to deeper loneliness.
This book analyzes the alienation of a struggling person from his own world. He lives a hard life and is unwilling. It is an exercise draft for A B on his way to becoming a writer, and also an essay on his dreams and daily materials.
Generally speaking, a person's daily life experience, long-term secret love and inner entanglement are meaningless to others. But he wrote them down and turned them into words before my eyes. When I read them, my heart was moved by his words He is obsessed with digging deep into some emotion, paying attention to color rather than relying on rhetoric, and writing vague things so clearly. His words have a high density of emotions, as if to dig out a person's heart and have a look. Those vague entanglements attract readers step by step. But he doesn't seem to care about the readers, nor does he care about the integrity or rationality of the story. He is just telling an unformed story or dream. He is telling it by himself, sometimes vague and sometimes abrupt.
In this book, A-B tells the story of his secret love for a woman for eight years in various ways, and makes a profound self-analysis. In eight years, he also got along with others, but "there was no love in his heart". He felt that "all these real women lost to her in imagination without exception"; He experienced all kinds of cruel setbacks and ideological struggles, but he never admitted that it was impossible between him and her. Maybe he is unwilling, maybe he loves too much, or maybe he just can't get it, and he has been in turmoil. The ending of this unrequited love was well written by him. A few years later, he faced a woman who was willing to wait for his disposal and said mercilessly, "I'm sorry, I don't like you." Not at all. He wrote: "An hour later, I took to the street and couldn't help feeling sad. I see. I like you and you don't like me. It's that simple. I am crying for such a simple and normal truth in the world. I never think this is the world's eternal absurdity. "Who hasn't experienced love to the bone, but finally can't get humble and stubborn.
Maybe that's why Yi became a policeman. As an observer, he wrote many dreams from the perspective of the police, which were bizarre and eerie, and even his novels were stained with such an atmosphere. Well tells a strange story. A son missed the last chance to see his father. Deqing, a rural teacher, was told during class that his father died at seven o'clock in the evening. He was unusually calm and unhurriedly continued to do his own thing, pulling white cloth after class, and then going home over mountains, as if he had seen his father's soul on the road. Finally, he wrote, "Deqing looked at his watch. It's seven o'clock." He thought, before missing this minute, where should he be delayed? "When I got home, my father died for a minute, just a minute. He could have chased any link faster, but he missed it in the end. This story, written with extremely cold brushwork, makes people stand on end. Think about it, even if we know in advance that something will happen, but we can't change it, we might as well accept it. Maybe that's why my son missed this minute.
"I" was the first time I met Ah Yi, and I became more and more curious about him. I arranged to read his other works and continue to know this lonely observer.