Introduction to Ge Fei
Ge Fei, male, was born in Dantu, Jiangsu. He was admitted to the Chinese Department of East China Normal University in Shanghai in. Doctor of literature. Now he is a professor and doctoral supervisor in the Chinese Department of Tsinghua University. Mainly engaged in novel creation and literary research. His representative works include novels such as Peach Blossom with Face, Mountains and Rivers Dreaming, Short Stories such as Lost Boat and Green Yellow, and works such as Invitation to Literature and Narrative Research of Novels. As a well-known scholar in the field of contemporary cultural studies, Dr. Lin 'an has been gradually forgotten by people recently. Four years have passed and I have never heard from him. As rumored by the outside world, the unfortunate marriage was an important reason for his final farewell to academia. The latest issue of Celebrity magazine published a mourning article. The author claimed that according to the information he just got, Mr. Lin 'an is no longer alive. He died of cholera in Aksu, Xinjiang in June 1993. It was not until this autumn when Dr. Lin 'an suddenly appeared in front of my apartment with a heavy bag that the above inference was proved to be nonsense. He passed through Shanghai on his way back from Zhangye to Changsha. Because of that irresponsible rumor and the estrangement that we haven't seen for years, it's not hard to imagine the unpleasant embarrassment when we meet. Over the years, the world has changed a lot. While most people are busy accumulating money, others voluntarily die. Our conversation has always been shrouded in depression and sadness. Dr. Lin 'an is not as talkative as he used to be, and his passion and sense of humor seem to have dried up. We looked out of the window for a long time and watched those beautifully dressed girls walk through the Woods to the cafeteria. The unbearable silence made us tired of each other.
As far as I can remember, Mr. Lin 'an is not a rigorous scholar despite his rich knowledge and wide interests. Most of his research methods are based on speculation and fantasy, even with some jokes. Lin' an often scorns the good atmosphere of paying attention to facts and logic that the academic circles have gradually developed in the difficult exploration: "The naive desire to defend the truth is often the most reliable way to shallowness." Four years ago, he sent a long article about Li Bai's Shu Dao Nan to Academic Monthly, and disappeared from the scene. In this article, he concluded that Shu Dao Nan was a forgery. "It's just a sword score given to Li Bai by a master who lives in seclusion in Sichuan. Is it a strange trick to start with a sentence of' Hey, Hey, Shh'?" In a letter to me, a female editor of Academic Monthly revealed obvious anxiety: "Your friend who is obsessed with computers must be out of his mind." Now it seems that this article may just be a parody of Dr. Lin 'an's despair to the academic community. However, Dr. Lin 'an was not isolated from the academic circles. He also brought a paper about Wang Jiling's Liangzhou Ci. He told me that his original intention of writing this paper was only to relieve loneliness, but he unexpectedly cured his insomnia. The style of the article is the same as his old work, but the title is unbearable. If you delete the branches, it seems to be called: Wang Zhihuan: Existentialist in the Middle Tang Dynasty. Old news "Pushkin said: annihilation is man's natural destiny." I only recently understood the true meaning of this sentence? " Dr Lin 'an thus began his exposition and immediately mentioned an old story about Wang Zhihuan.
There used to be a two-story wooden and stone building in Yushu, about nine miles west of Wuwei, Gansu. Now there is nothing left in the desert except a pair of stone lions in front of the door and a post iron for tying horses. This building is located on the only road leading to Dunhuang and Shandan Racecourse. It was originally an inn for passing business travelers to stay overnight. In the early years of Kaiyuan, as the border war became tight, a large number of border guards mobilized Wuwei from the mainland. This inn was once rented by the army. In the end, some wild frontier poets occupied the inn, who brought geisha, musicians and drunken brawls. It was as if the end was coming. Since poets and geisha appeared in the world, these two kinds of people have a good impression on each other. However, this does not mean that there will be no disputes of one kind or another when poets and geisha in the desert outside the Great Wall, who are isolated and sparsely populated, live together for drinking and having fun. In order to prevent the frequent occurrence of bloodshed, a poet named Brother Ye invented a method of distributing women after drinking. The specific procedure is also very simple: poets usually ride horses from the city at dusk and then drink, write poems, talk and sing. When the moon rises in the desert, the geisha come out from behind the screen in turn and begin to sing the newly written poems of the poets. Only when a geisha sings a poet's work can the poet have the right to spend a good night with her. "This ceremony is somewhat similar to the blind date that is popular in Britain now," Dr. Lin 'an explained. "It makes the traditional prostitution more mysterious and has a strong cultural color." Wang Zhihuan has been a frequent visitor to this inn since he was demoted to Wuwei. Unfortunately, his poems have never been sung by geisha.
According to the analysis of later scholars, the most important reason why Wang Jiling was left out in the cold here was that his poems were not suitable for singing, except that he was "plain and hesitant" and disliked by women. It is indeed the case that a coquettish and vulgar geisha sings loudly, "How far is the Yellow River?" Words like this are indeed a bit excessive. But one thing that happened not long after seemed completely unexpected. This incident obviously does not belong to the category of official records. In his book Tang Poems, Shen Deqian in Qing Dynasty occasionally touched on this old story, but the description was extremely inaccurate. On this evening, the gathering of poets was still held as usual. It's just that I heard that there are several new geisha poets in the inn, and the mood of the poets is slightly excited. The first person who came out from behind the screen was a bloated local woman. Probably because of this person's rough appearance, poets' eyes seem a little evasive and frightened for fear of singing their own poems from her mouth. The girl scanned it with her small eyes like mung beans, and everyone finally set their eyes on Gao Shi. She sang a passage of Yan Ge Xing. People looked at Gao Shi with sympathy after a long sigh of relief. Gao Shi himself has a different view on this. He whispered to Wang Zhihuan next door, "This girl is lovely and I like her hips." The geisha who came out next is a thing of the past, although she looks good. She seems to be fascinated by Wang Changling's tall and handsome appearance. She once used a pair of scissors to force Wang Changling to marry her. She always sings Wang Changling's poems every time she appears, so the rest of the poets don't have wild thoughts about her.
Sure enough, what she sang this time was the old song "The Stuck". Wang Changling looked a little disappointed but still elegant. He smiled modestly and said, "Brush up?" Time flies so quickly. Wang Zhihuan seems to have a little sleepy. At the end of the party, a woman suddenly flashed out from behind the screen. Her appearance immediately made Wang Jiling sleepy. There have always been different opinions about the beauty of this woman. Some people call her "the jade arm is clear and radiant", while others say that "it is breathtaking to look around and look at the waves". In any case, these comments are consistent in one point: her body has both the charm of a mature woman and the purity and freshness of a girl. The poem she sang was Wang Jiling's Liangzhou Ci. It seems that this dignified and handsome woman has not received basic music training. Her voice is harsh and childish, lacking control. An aging pianist can only improvise to accompany her and catch up with her beat in vain. Her eyes were full of tears as if singing itself brought her only unspeakable humiliation. "If someone is determined to drink a cup of poisonous wine, the best way is to drink it all at once," Lin 'an told me. "She finished singing this song in such impatience that she was mixed with hesitation, regret and decided to give up her wish quickly and then looked at everyone at a loss." After a short silence, people saw Wang Zhihuan dry cough twice, got up from his chair and walked towards the geisha. The indifference on his face barely controlled his unbalanced body as usual. He didn't even look at her, as if this woman didn't exist, and hurried around the jars beside her and went straight outside.
In the desert in late autumn, the chilly sand grains are scattered in the air by the west wind and collide with each other to make a buzzing sound like a bee. By the light of the inn, he found the Shandan horse by a row of collapsed fences. Then he began to cry. There was the sound of broken wine cans in the inn, and the geisha screamed in horror. "Now we know that the geisha is the wife of Wang Jiling." Lin 'an pretended to say calmly, "It's a little unbelievable, but it's a fact after all. You know, the poets' parties held regularly in this inn in Yushu at that time were no different from the popular pop song charts in Hong Kong and Taiwan today. At that time, it almost completely manipulated the arty cultural consumption of Wuwei, a tiny town. Wang Zhihuan's wife usually stays at home, and her husband's frequent staying out all night makes her guess. By chance, she learned from a Muslim who came to sell Lycium barbarum that everything had happened in Yushu Inn, where her husband was left out, and she couldn't help worrying. Later, she slowly came up with a way? " "It seems that this woman has a fanatical hobby for the art of poetry?" I said to Lin 'an. "It's just a hobby. And this hobby is only because her husband happens to be a poet. That's what women were like at that time. If her husband was a dentist, she would inexplicably feel close to the pliers for tooth extraction. In fact, she knows almost nothing about poetry. When she was in Taiyuan, she questioned Wang Zhihuan's at heron lodge. According to her logic, but you widen your view three hundred miles and by going up one flight of stairs are far from enough. At least, she should climb four or five floors at a time, because only in this way can she see further.
Wang Zhihuan couldn't convince her. Finally, he had to take his wife to the front of the stork building that was about to collapse. You see, there are only three floors in this building.' Wang Zhihuan patiently explained,' I was on the second floor when I wrote this poem?' As soon as his voice fell, his wife smiled shyly and showed a row of white teeth: I see. So this unfortunate thing happened only because of love. In my opinion, the so-called love is nothing but a morbid madness. ""maybe it's still a luxury. " I chimed in. "Indeed," Lin 'an stood up and seemed ready to go to the toilet. "What happened to Wang Zhihuan has gone far beyond the scope of tragedy. According to the current popular view, it is absurd. Similar things are everywhere in our time. " Lin 'an didn't come out in the toilet for a long time. I know our conversation is far from over. In the monotonous hum of refrigerator compressor, I saw Lin 'an's wife's sad face. I haven't seen her since she divorced Lin 'an. As we all know, Wang Zhihuan started his writing career when he was thirteen or fourteen years old. Forty years later, he died of emphysema in Wen 'an County, and only six poems were handed down from generation to generation. Although these poems were later included in Tang Poetry, after textual research, four poems, such as Banquet Ci, are also false works, which are "it is unbelievable to substitute flowers for trees". Therefore, it is accurate to say that there are only two poems left by Wang Zhihuan to future generations, namely, the well-known Liangzhou Ci and at heron lodge. Dr. Lin 'an told me that when he was staying in Zhangye and Wuwei, he read the woodcut biography of ten talented people in Tang Dynasty written by Li Shiyou in a private library.
the author's date of birth and death can't be tested. The vulgar quotation of his realm also makes many mistakes, but it implies all the secrets of the loss of Wang Jiling's poems in a very unconfident style. According to Li Shiyou's explanation, Wang Zhihuan, who was ill in bed for several months, realized that there were not many days left in the world. On a rainy night, he set all his poems on fire, and copied Liangzhou Ci and at heron lodge on two fans respectively, and presented them to the servants who followed him for many years as a memorial table. As for the reason why Wang Jiling set himself on fire, Li Shiyou thought it was an adventure that Wang Jiling longed for immortality. He went on to make a symbolic explanation: If there are only a pair of priceless vases left in the world, you will not lose anything if you smash one of them, but the value of the other one will increase exponentially in an instant. "It is not difficult to prove the absurdity and shallowness of this description." Dr. Lin 'an became indignant when he talked about this matter. "We know that Wang Zhihuan was extremely cautious about making his poems public before his death, even if he gave his confidants and beauties, he was often very stingy. This quirk directly led to him and Gao Shi and Wang Changling. If Wang Zhihuan loves fame as Li said, then his current position is no longer under Li and DUZH. " In this paper of Dr. Lin 'an, he used a long space to describe the stormy night many years ago, and his writing was full of vigor and sadness. But I don't know how true his description is. When I noticed his rotten cheeks and white hair on his forehead, I knew that in fact I had no right to ask him such a question. "Even a sane and strong-minded person will inevitably have the idea of self-destruction." After a while, Lin 'an said in a softer tone, "This idea is related to the memory of their suffering and injury in this world.
Generally speaking, this kind of memory can never be erased. It usually leads people's soul to the illusory time and the thinking of all kinds of unknown things, although the desire to escape often brings despair. As Cao Xueqin later summed up: Everything that exists in the world is nothing more than a mirror. " Lin 'an's words brought me back to the past years. As early as a few years ago, in a letter to me, his wife had foretold the signs that their marriage was about to collapse. This letter was written in Russian, and she mentioned with great concern the recent state of Lin 'an, which made her very worried and frightened. Because "he has gradually revealed his desire for hell in casual conversation?" "Speaking of Wang Zhihuan reminds me of someone." Lin 'an banged his skull with his fingers as if trying to remember his name. "A Jew?" "Are you talking about Rilke?" "Not Kafka?" Linan corrected. At the same time, his neck burst out again with excitement. "Wang Zhihuan's burning of poems often reminds me of Kafka's melancholy face. They all died of lung disease and suffered many misfortunes in their marriage. They all had the same wish, but they didn't succeed with their disappearance. People often make their own mistakes out of kindness, which makes these arrogant souls restless. Max Blaude's behavior is unforgivable at this point. " "Do you mean that Wang Zhihuan's self-indulgent annihilation is related to his hatred of the world?" "Hatred is only a relatively minor reason," Lin 'an said. "Besides, we know very little about Wang Zhihuan's life experience. The problem is that Wang Zhihuan has seen through the nature of the ruins of the world and endured it humbly.
I think he has made this very clear in the poem Liangzhou Ci. " "It seems that you also mentioned geographical factors in this paper?" "Desert" Lin 'an explained that "the desert is the most common thing in that area where Wang Zhihuan lived for many years. Desert is a deadly metaphor in any era. In fact, a few days after I left Gansu, I still dreamed that it was chasing the train I took behind me. It follows me wherever I go. I am thinking that if the world has an established process as people say, there is no doubt that it is an imitation of the desert. " Conclusion "You don't have to consider the fate of others, but you can't give your own destiny to them.