My dear, esteemed Mo Yan, I have read with great enjoyment everything you’ve written, and I bow low in respect for you. One of my souls leaves the mortal world, one flies straight to Nirvana. Your work is on a par with Guo Moruo’s ‘Phoenix Nirvana’ and Gorki’s My Universities. What I admire most about you is your spirit, like that of the ‘Wine God,’ who drinks as much as he wants without getting drunk. I read an essay in which you wrote, ‘liquor is literature’ and ‘people who are strangers to liquor are incapable of talking about literature.’ Those refreshing words filled my head with the clarified butter of great wisdom, removed all obstacles to understanding. Truly it was a case of: ‘Open the gates of the throat and pour down a bucket of Maotall. There cannot be a hundred people in this world who are more knowledgeable about liquor than L You, of course, count among them. The history of liquor and the distillation of liquor, the classification of liquor, the chemistry of liquor, and the physical properties of liquor, I know them all like the back of my hand. Which is why I am so captivated by literature, and why I believe I am capable of producing good literature. Your judgment would be my liquor of assurance, serving the same purpose as that glass of liquor the martyred hero Li Yuhe took from Aunt Li just before he was arrested. So, Mo Yan, Sir, now you must know why I am writing this letter. Please accept the prostration of your disciple!
Recently I saw the film adaptation of your novel Red Sorghum, which you also worked on, and was so excited I could hardly sleep that night. So I drank, one glass after another. I was so happy for you. Sir, and so proud. Mo Yan, you are the pride of Liquorland! I shall appeal to people from all walks of life to pluck you from Northeast Gaomi township and settle you here in Liquorland. Wait for news from me.
I mustn’t carry on too long in this first letter. I include with it a short story for your criticism. I wrote it like a man possessed the night I saw your movie Red Sorghum, after tossing and turning, and finally drinking the night away. If you think it has promise, I would be grateful if you would recommend it for publication somewhere. I salute you with enormous respect, and wish you
Continued success,
Your disciple
Li Yidou
PS: Please let me know if you are short of liquor. I will attend to it right away.
III
Dear Doctor of Liquor Studies
Greetings!
Your letter and the story ‘Alcohol’ both arrived safely.
I am a haphazardly educated person, which is why I hold college students in such high regard. And a Ph.D. candidate, well, that is the apex.
During times like this, it is fair to say that literature is not the choice of the wise, and those of us for whom it is too late can but sigh at a lack of talent and skills that leaves us only with literature. A writer by the name of Li Qi once wrote a novel entitled Don’t Treat Me Like a Dog, in which he describes a gang of local punks who are deprived of opportunities to cheat or mug or steal or rob, so one of them says: Let’s go become goddamned writers! Yd rather not go into detail regarding the implications. If you’re interested, you can find a copy of the novel for yourself.
You are a doctoral candidate in liquor studies. I envy you more than is probably good for me. If I were a doctor of liquor studies, I doubt that I’d waste my time writing novels. In China, which reeks of liquor, can there be any endeavor with greater promise or a brighter future than the study of liquor, any field that bestows more abundant benefits? In the past, it was said that In books there are castles of gold, in books there are casks of grain, in books there are beautiful women.’ But the almanacs of old had their shortcomings, and the word liquor’ would have worked better than ‘books.’ Take a look at Diamond Jin, that is, Deputy Head Jin, the one with the oceanic capacity for liquor, a man who has earned the undying respect of everyone in Liquorland. Where will you find a writer whose name can be uttered in the same breath as his? And so, little brother (Fm unworthy of being called ‘sir’), I urge you to listen to your father-in-law and avoid taking the wrong path.
In your letter you said that one of my essays inspired you to become a writer. That is a big mistake. I wrote the asinine words liquor is literature’ and ‘people who are strangers to liquor are incapable of talking about literature’ when I was good and drunk, and you must not take them to heart. If you do, this insignificant life of mine will be all but over.
I have read your manuscript carefully. I have no grounding in literary theory and hardly any ability to appreciate art. Any song and dance from me would be pointless. But I have mailed it off to the editors at Citizens’ Literature, where the finest contemporary editors have gathered. If you are a true ‘thousand-li steed,’ I am confident there’s a master groom out there somewhere for you. I have plenty of liquor, but thanks for asking.
Wishing you
Health and happiness,
Mo Yan
IV
Alcohol, by Li Yidou
Dear friends, dear students, when I learned that I had been engaged as a visiting professor at the Brewer’s College, this supreme honor was like a warm spring breeze in midwinter sweeping past my loyal, red-blooded heart, my green lungs and intestines, as well as my purple liver, the seat of acquiescence and accommodation. I can stand behind this sacred podium, made of pine and cypress and decorated with colorful plastic flowers, to lecture to you primarily because of its special qualities. You all know that when alcohol enters the body, most of it is broken down in the liver… Diamond Jin stood at the podium in the General Education Lecture Hall of Liquorland’s Brewer’s College solemnly discharging his duties. He had chosen a broad and far-reaching topic for this, his first lecture – Liquor and Society. In the tradition of brilliant, high-ranking leaders, who steer clear of specifics when they speak in public – like God looking down from on high, invoking times ancient and modern, calling forth heaven and earth, a sweeping passage through time and space – he proved his worth as visiting professor by not allowing the details of the topic to monopolize his oration. He permitted himself to soar through the sky like a heavenly steed, yet from time to time knew he must come down to earth. The rhetoric flowed from his mouth, changing course at will, yet every sentence was anchored in his topic, directly or indirectly.