Megan Walsh 談通過文學了解中國

梅根·沃爾什談通過文學了解中國

https://thediplomat.com/2022/02/megan-walsh-on-understanding-china-through-its-literature/

在一本新書中，沃爾什探討了當今中國流行的截然不同的寫作體裁和風格。

香農·蒂茲 2022 年 2 月 9 日

梅根·沃爾什談通過文學了解中國

梅根·沃爾什（Megan Walsh）在她的新書《次要情節：中國正在讀什麽及其為何重要》中探討了當今中國文學的不同流派和流派，從文學小說到廣受歡迎的網絡書籍和農民工詩歌。 沃爾什解釋說，每種類型的寫作都代表了中國社會的不同方麵，綜合起來，它們有助於描繪出現代中國充滿活力、多樣化的生活現實。

在下麵的采訪中，沃爾什詳細解釋了她的書、審查製度在塑造中國文學中的作用，以及中國的“軟實力”問題。

您提出了研究中國小說的理由：因為它比非小說類小說受到的審查更少（盡管肯定不是未經審查的），具有諷刺意味的是，小說可以提供當代中國的“更真實”的肖像。 “對於許多作家來說，呈現令人難以忽視的事實的最佳方式就是反其道而行之，故意將事實呈現為虛構，”你寫道。 您能為那些還沒有讀過您的書的人詳細說明一下嗎？

我寫這篇文章是專門針對閻連科決定將他對中國河南農村艾滋病危機（由九十年代不衛生的血液市場造成）的實地研究轉化為他令人難忘的小說《丁村之夢》而寫的。 嚴說，他這樣做是為了避免審查（盡管這本書最終還是被禁了），這無疑是許多其他作家也選擇將“事實當作虛構”呈現的主要原因之一——風險較小。

但還有另一個動機。 嚴的小說由一個死去的孩子講述了一場“蔓延的發燒”，可以說更加身臨其境、準確地描述了這些小型農村社區中無情的賣血者（或“血頭”）所創造的噩夢般的現實。 和閻一樣，許多其他作家——從餘華、殘雪、莫言到下一代超現實主義者——創造了新的荒誕主義或魔幻現實主義文學風格和流派，以反映他們在當代中國所經曆的“非現實”。

也就是說，許多作家使用現實主義小說（而不是非小說）的原因相似，因為它在他們自己和他們所寫的內容之間提供了創造性的距離。 他們可能不會談論受到審查的經曆或事件，但他們仍然強調了當代社會中困難的斷裂，例如年輕作家想要探索父母壓力的沉重負擔，但又不想顯得不孝，或者農民工需要表達他們的艱辛，但不一定要指責政府 他們。 蘇珊·桑塔格（Susan Sontag）說過“信息永遠不會取代啟發”，我想這也巧妙地概括了中國作家的事實與虛構之間的區別。

說到審查製度，我們來討論一下政治審查製度與道德審查製度（禁止“黑”字與“黃”字）之間的區別。 雖然某些政治話題一直是禁忌，但近年來，中共重新強調了“道德和正派”。 這是否對您所討論的某些小說風格構成威脅？ 例如，耽美或男孩愛情故事強調同性關係，“打臉”故事的主角顯然不是道德典範。

當然是。 在中國，自孔子、莊周以來，寫作一直被視為灌輸道德的最佳方式。 [教導]如何成為好孩子、好父母或好統治者。 在當今中國共產黨的心目中，文學也有同樣的目的：它應該是說教的，它應該展示“紅色文化”對道德和複興社會的貢獻的多種方式。

網絡小說長期以來被視為低俗小說，但這些史詩般的傳奇故事已經演變成類似電腦遊戲的空間，讓年輕人沉浸在被視為非政治和非道德的世界中。 它們經常描繪熱衷於追求權力、地位和誘惑的個人主義者，或者描繪的愛情對象是一位肆無忌憚、炙手可熱的億萬富翁。 這些對個人偉大的幻想並不是年輕人的樣子——甚至不是他們想成為的人——但也許提供了一種急需的宣泄形式：假裝不思考、不負責任和反社會是很有趣的。 在現實生活中，無論是在學校還是在工作場所，服從的壓力可能會非常大。

盡管如此，考慮到網絡小說的流行程度，政府希望對其內容擁有更多控製權也就不足為奇了。 正如“低俗”電視節目，特別是勵誌真人秀，顯然正在被“道德建設節目”所取代，網絡小說平台也受到“社會主義收視率”的限製，為此，

低分需要“整改”。 直到最近，這主要意味著刪除越來越多的禁區：涉及性的場景、性暗示、宗教、政治（包括古代）、女同性戀、女性化的男人、鬼魂、自殺、暴力打鬥、有毒偶像 有趣的是，（無性）耽美或男孩愛情小說《守護者》被直接搬上銀幕，其中趙雲瀾和沉巍之間的同性愛情被重新演繹成柏拉圖式的“社會主義兄弟情”。

盡管如此，任何對性或暴力的描述都受到嚴格監管，所有內容都必須有效地適合兒童觀看或閱讀，這當然對作家構成了挑戰。 對於網絡作家們對頸部以下任何部位的描述，他們不遺餘力地進行修飾或掩飾，這讓他們感到非常沮喪，但也有一些自豪。 同樣，對於非法印刷的耽美故事來說，性越軌和相對露骨的內容當然也是吸引力的一部分。 而對於那些年輕女作家的懲罰也是嚴厲的。

最後，值得注意的是，尤其是像閻連科和已故王小波這樣的老作家，他們在小說中對性和暴力的運用往往暴露了官員罰人放縱自己的虛偽和性墮落。

中國的耽美故事在海外已經找到了一個小眾市場，但也有狂熱的追隨者。 例如，翻譯《魔修宗師》的草根努力，加上該電視節目在 Netflix 上播出，在英語世界創造了一個熱情的粉絲俱樂部。 視頻博主李子柒在 YouTube 上吸引了全球粉絲，宣傳中國農村的生活——盡管政府正在追求和倡導城市化。 中國一些最大的“軟實力”成功正在宣揚讓中共本身感到不舒服的說法，我們該如何看待這一事實？

很難說這會如何發展，但據我所知，中國政府會很高興。 鄉村影響者李子柒被視為新中國的象征，她正在講述“一個美好的中國故事”。 同樣，很多在國外流行的仙俠奇幻作品，比如《魔道祖師》、《我要封天》，都具有鮮明的中國特色，可以看作是對中國獨特和暢銷的一種頌揚。 - 文化傳統。 至關重要的是，這些網絡幻想很大程度上與政治無關。 如果西方讀者不再隻對“中國禁”的小說感興趣，那麽從很多方麵來說，這對中共來說是夢想成真。 如果說有什麽不同的話，那就是中國奇幻和科幻小說是中國軟實力的第一個成功例子。

盡管如此，如今大多數被認為“不健康”的網絡小說在有機會為外國讀者翻譯之前都會在中國被取消，因此內容可能很快就會枯竭。 同樣，中國的民族主義也越來越多地滲透到網絡故事的情節中，主要是作為作家提供的討價還價的籌碼，以避免受到審查，所以我不知道如果它變成這樣，年輕的西方或國內觀眾會有多大的接受度 太普遍了。

被西方分析家歸類為“宣傳”的小說在中國流行到什麽程度？ 例如，您討論了反腐敗電視節目《人民的名義》的受歡迎程度——這是一個成功故事的反常現象，還是對親政府故事的更廣泛興趣？ 當然，我們在西方有這樣的例子——傑克·鮑爾或詹姆斯·邦德式的故事，主角實際上是一名政府特工。

這是一個很難回答的問題。 除了網絡小說之外，很難知道人們真正從閱讀中得到什麽樂趣。 當然也有薑子龍這樣的老牌作家，他的作品中社會主義現實主義和革命浪漫主義有機地閃耀，有時還獲獎。 茅盾獎是中國最負盛名的獎項之一，它通常表彰那些小說至少不冒犯政府品味的作家，而政府的品味又不斷變化：我不確定格非的江南三部曲是否合適 2015 年獲獎的《》在當前環境下仍將獲獎。 最重要的是，這種小說不是宣傳，即使作家自己已經習慣了自我審查某些想法或材料，也沒有被廣泛閱讀。

流行間諜和犯罪類型小說的作家，如周梅森、麥佳和周浩輝，都小心翼翼地讓政府特工或警察最終看起來不錯，但這與我們的許多機場小說沒有什麽不同。 學校的“紅色教育”讓年輕一代對中共及其曆史產生難以置信的愛國情緒，並且從理論上講，他們對大多數宣傳，無論是事實還是虛構的，都表現出良好的態度。 盡管人們齊心協力讓年輕的網絡作家寫“紅色故事”而不是超級英雄的胡言亂語，但我們還沒有看到它們有多受歡迎

。

我認為親政府故事最成功的媒介仍然是屏幕。 《戰狼2》、《紅海行動》等赤裸裸的特種部隊電影都是破紀錄的大片，而講述五四運動和中共早期的電視劇《覺醒時代》卻出乎意料。 深受年輕觀眾的喜愛。 但愛國主義並不是十拿九穩的。 眾星雲集的另一部重述中共起源故事的《1921》，是一場浮誇的耐力考驗。

簡而言之，我認為描繪中國的全球和道德至高無上的當代軍事和犯罪類型（就像西方的同類一樣）永遠比試圖讓觀眾對共產主義曆史著迷的嚐試更受歡迎。 但這並不能阻止這類故事充斥市場。

您如何看待習近平最近提出的“要在黨的領導下廣泛團結和聚集愛國奉獻的文藝工作者”？ 正如您在書中所概述的那樣，文學界充滿活力的多樣性未來是否會麵臨越來越大的壓力，以符合“正能量”？ 或者某些類型是否太受歡迎而無法完全關閉？

據我所知，這是習近平自 2014 年以來不斷加快步伐的愛國藝術文化宏偉願景的延續。然而，除了網絡小說之外，網絡小說發現自己受到越來越多的審查——而且更容易 隻需按一下按鈕即可刪除和消失——作家似乎確實有一定程度的自由來寫他們想要的東西，隻要他們不變得太受歡迎。 雖然我永遠不會低估政府打擊任何它認為對其權威或它希望講述的故事構成潛在挑戰的事物的能力，但我懷疑它認為作家不再是那麽大的威脅——希望這對 文學場景的多樣性，但不利於這些敘述和故事的影響力和影響力。

梅根·沃爾什（Megan Walsh）的《次要情節：中國正在閱讀什麽及其為何重要》由哥倫比亞全球報道於 2 月 8 日發表。

Megan Walsh on Understanding China Through Its Literature

https://thediplomat.com/2022/02/megan-walsh-on-understanding-china-through-its-literature/

In a new book, Walsh explores the wildly divergent genres and styles of writing that are popular in China today.

 By Shannon Tiezzi  Feb  9, 2022

In her new book “The Subplot: What China Is Reading and Why It Matters,” Megan Walsh explores different genres and strands of Chinese literature today, from literary novels to wildly popular online books and the poetry of migrant workers. Each type of writing, Walsh explains, represents a different facet of Chinese society – and taken together, they help present a portrait of the dynamic, diverse reality of life in modern China.

In the interview below, Walsh explains more about her book, the role of censorship in shaping Chinese literature, and the question of China’s “soft power.”

You make the case for studying Chinese fiction: Because it is less censored than non-fiction (although certainly not uncensored), fiction could ironically provide a “truer” portrait of contemporary China. “For many writers, the best way to present inconvenient truths is to do the opposite, to willfully present fact as fiction,” you write. Can you elaborate for those who have not (yet) read your book?

I wrote it specifically in relation to Yan Lianke’s decision to turn his field study about China’s AIDs crisis in rural Henan (caused by unsanitary blood markets in the ’90s) into his haunting novel “Dream of Ding Village.” Yan said he did so to avoid censorship (even though the book was eventually banned anyway), and this is certainly one of the main reasons many other writers also choose to present “fact as fiction” – it is less risky.

But there’s another motivation. Yan’s novel about a “spreading fever,” narrated by a dead child, is arguably a much more immersive and accurate depiction of the nightmarish reality created by ruthless bloodsellers – or “bloodheads” – in these small, rural communities. Like Yan, many other writers – from Yu Hua, Can Xue, and Mo Yan to the next generation of surrealists – have created new absurdist or magical realist literary styles and genres to mirror what they experience as “unreality” in contemporary China.

That said, plenty of writers use realist fiction (as opposed to nonfiction) for the similar reason that it offers a creative distance between themselves and what they are writing. They may not be broaching censored experiences or events, but they still highlight difficult fractures in contemporary society, such as young writers wanting to explore the crushing weight of parental pressure without appearing unfilial or migrant workers needing to voice their hardships without necessarily blaming the government for them. Susan Sontag said that “information will never replace illumination,” which I’d say also neatly sums up the difference between fact and fiction for Chinese writers.

Speaking of censorship, let’s discuss the distinction between political vs. moral censorship (the banning of “black” vs. “yellow” writing). While certain political topics have always been taboo, recent years have seen a renewed emphasis on “morality and decency” as defined by the CCP. Does this pose a threat to some of the fiction styles you address? Danmei or boys’ love stories, for instance, emphasize same-sex relationship and in “face slapping” stories the protagonists are decidedly not moral paragons.

Yes, definitely. Writing in China, since the time of Confucius and Zhuang Zhou, has long been seen as the best way to imbue morality; [teaching] how to be good children, parents, or rulers. And literature serves the same purpose in the minds of the Chinese Communist Party today: it should be didactic, it should show the myriad ways “Red Culture” contributes to a moral and rejuvenated society.

Online novels were written off for a long time as pulp fiction, but these epic sagas have evolved into spaces, much like computer games, for youngsters to immerse themselves in worlds that are seen as both apolitical and amoral. They often depict zealous individualists on a quest for power, status, and allure, or romances in which the love interest is an unscrupulous, smoking-hot billionaire. These fantasies of individual grandeur are not examples of what young people are like – or even what they want to be – but perhaps offer a much-needed form of catharsis: it’s fun to pretend to be unthinking, unaccountable, and antisocial. In real life, the pressure to conform – at school, in the workplace – can be very stressful.

Still, given how popular online fiction has become it’s not surprising that the government wants to have much more control over its content. Just as “vulgar” TV programs, in particular aspirational reality TV, are apparently being replaced with “morality building shows,” online fiction platforms are subject to “socialist ratings,” for which a low score requires “rectification.” Up until recently, this has mostly meant removing a growing list of no-go areas: scenes involving sex, intimations of sex, religion, politics (including in ancient times), lesbians, effeminate men, ghosts, suicide, violent fights, toxic idol worship etc.  Interestingly, the (sex free) danmei or boy’s love novel “Guardian” was straightened up for the screen, in which gay love between Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei was re-spun as platonic “socialist brotherly love.”

Still, any depictions of sex or violence are tightly regulated, and everything must effectively be suitable for a child to watch or read which, of course, poses a challenge to writers. There’s a lot of frustration, and some pride, amongst internet writers regarding the lengths they go to bowdlerize or disguise descriptions of anything below the neck. Equally, for illegally printed copies of danmei stories, the sexual transgressions and comparatively explicit material is, of course, part of the appeal. And the punishments for those young female writers have been severe.

Lastly, it is worth noting that, especially amongst older writers such as Yan Lianke and the now deceased Wang Xiaobo, their use of sex and violence in fiction often exposed the hypocrisy and sexual depravity of officials who punish others but indulge themselves.

Chinese danmei stories have found a niche but avid following overseas. A grassroots effort to translate “Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation,” for instance, coupled with the TV show being hosted on Netflix, created an enthusiastic fan club in the English-speaking world. And vlogger Li Ziqi has built up a global following on YouTube promoting life in rural China – even while the government pursues and advocates for urbanization. What should we make of the fact that some of China’s biggest “soft power” successes are promoting narratives the CCP itself is uncomfortable with?

It’s hard to say how this will play out, but as far as I can tell, the Chinese government will be delighted. Rural influencer Li Ziqi is seen as a figurehead for a new China, she is telling “a good China story.” Similarly, a lot of the xianxia fantasies that have been popular abroad, such as “Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation” and “I Shall Seal the Heavens,” have really distinct Chinese characteristics, and can be seen as a celebration of China’s unique – and saleable – cultural traditions. Crucially, these online fantasies are largely detached from politics. If Western readers are no longer only interested in “banned in China” novels this, in many ways, is a dream come true for the CCP. If anything, Chinese fantasy and sci-fi are the first examples of successful Chinese soft power out there.

That said, these days most online novels deemed “unhealthy” will be cancelled in China before they get a chance to be translated for foreign audiences, so the content might dry up soon. Similarly, Chinese nationalism is increasingly creeping into the plots of online stories, mainly as a bargaining chip offered by writers as a way to not get censored, so I don’t know how receptive young Western, or domestic audiences, will be if it becomes too prevalent.

To what extent is fiction that analysts in the West would categorize as “propaganda” popular in China? You discuss the popularity of the anti-corruption TV show “In the Name of the People,” for instance – is this an aberration as a success story or is there a broader appetite for pro-government stories? Certainly we have examples in the West — Jack Bauer or James Bond-style stories where the protagonist is literally a government agent.

That’s a tough question to answer. Apart from online fiction, it’s difficult to know what people actually get a kick out of reading. Naturally there are older, establishment writers such as Jiang Zilong, whose socialist realism and revolutionary romanticism organically shines through his work, and sometimes wins awards. The Mao Dun Prize is one of the country’s most prestigious awards, and it usually recognizes writers whose fiction does not, at least, offend the government’s taste which, in turn, is ever-shifting: I’m not sure if Ge Fei’s Jiangnan Trilogy, which won in 2015, would still receive the award in the current climate. Most importantly, this kind of fiction is not propaganda, even if the writers themselves have got used to self-censoring certain ideas or material, nor is it that widely read.

Writers of popular spy and crime genre fiction such as Zhou Meisen, Mai Jia and Zhou Haohui are careful to make government agents or police ultimately look good, but that’s no different from much of our airport fiction. “Red education” at school primes younger generations to feel incredibly patriotic about the CCP and its history and, in theory, well-disposed to most propaganda, be it fact or fiction. But while there is a concerted effort to get young online writers to pen “Red Stories” rather than superhero capers, we are yet to see how popular they are.

I think the most successful medium for pro-government stories is still the screen. Nakedly nationalistic movies about special ops teams such as “Wolf Warrior II” and “Operation Red Sea” were record-breaking blockbusters, while the TV drama “Awakening Age” about the May Fourth Movement and the early days of the CCP has proved an unexpected hit with young viewers. But patriotism is no shoo-in. Another retelling of the CCP’s origin story, the star-studded “1921,” was a turgid endurance test.

In short, I think contemporary military and crime genres depicting China’s global and moral supremacy (just as the equivalent does in the West) will always be more popular than attempts to make audiences swoon over Communist history. But that won’t stop those kinds of stories from flooding the market.

What did you make of Xi Jinping’s recent exhortation that “It is necessary to broadly unite and gather patriotic and dedicated literature and art workers under the leadership of the party”? Is the vibrant diversity of the literary scene, as outlined in your book, going to come under increasing pressure in the future to conform to “positive energy”? Or are certain genres too popular to entirely shut down?

This is, as far as I can tell, a continuation of Xi Jinping’s grand vision for a culture of patriotic art that has been gathering pace since 2014. However, apart from online fiction, which finds itself under increasing scrutiny – and is much easier to delete and disappear at the touch of a button – writers do seem to have a degree of freedom to write what they want, so long as they don’t become too popular. While I would never underestimate the government’s ability to crack down on anything it deems a potential challenge to its authority, or the narrative it wishes to tell, I suspect it sees writers as not that big a threat anymore – which is, hopefully, good for the diversity of the literary scene, but bad for the impact and reach that those narratives and stories will be able to have.

“The Subplot: What China is Reading and Why It Matters” by Megan Walsh was published by Columbia Global Reports on February 8.

Shannon Tiezzi是外交雜誌的主編。
她的主要重點是中國，她寫了關於中國的外交關係，國內政治和經濟。 香農以前曾在美國 - 中國政策基金會擔任研究助理，在那裏她主持了每周電視節目“中國論壇”。 她收到了上午 來自哈佛大學和她的學士學位 來自威廉和瑪麗學院。 香農還曾在北京的Tsinghua大學學習。