Remembering 1942: And Other Chinese Stories

by Liu Zhenyun, Sylvia Li-chun Lin (Translator), Howard Goldblatt (Translator)

Overview

Sweeping, Humorous, and Moving Tales from One of Contemporary China’s Greatest Writers
 
The bestselling and award-winning author of novels satirizing contemporary China, Liu Zhenyun is also renowned for his short stories. Remembering 1942 showcases six of his best, featuring a diverse cast of ordinary people struggling against the obstacles—bureaucratic, economic, and personal—that life presents.

The exquisite stories within this collection range from an exploration of office politics unmoored by an unexpected gift to the tale of a young soldier attempting to acclimate to his new life as a student and the story of a couple struggling to manage the demands of a young child. The masterful title story—which was adapted into a movie in 2012—explores the legacy of the drought and famine that struck Henan Province in 1942, tracing its echoes in one man’s journey through war and revolution and into the present.

Each story is rich in wit, insight, and empathy, and together they bring into focus the realities of China’s past and present, evoking clearly and mordantly the often Kafkaesque circumstances of contemporary life in the world’s most populous nation.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781648210945
Publisher:	Arcade
Publication date:	03/18/2025
Pages:	336
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x (d)

About the Author

Howard Goldblatt is a literary translator of numerous works of contemporary Chinese fiction from mainland China and Taiwan, including Nobel Prize–winner Mo Yan, five of whose works are published by Arcade (The Garlic Ballads; The Republic of Wine; Big Breasts and Wide Hips; Life and Death Are Wearing Me Out; Shifu, You'll Do Anything for a Laugh). He has also translated works by Liu Zhenyun (I Did Not Kill My Husband; The Cook, the Crook, and the Real Estate Tycoon; Remembering 1942, which are published by Arcade), Huang Chunming (The Taste of Apples), and Chen Ruoxi (The Execution of Mayor Yin). He taught modern Chinese literature and culture for more than a quarter of a century. He lives in Lafayette, Colorado.

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

Tofu

1

A half kilo of tofu at Lin's house went bad.

At the state-run grocery store, half a kilo of tofu came in five squares at a hundred grams apiece. At the private market, half a kilo of tofu came in one watery, mushy piece, impossible to stir-fry. So he rose at six every morning to line up outside the state-run grocery store to buy tofu, but that did not always mean he'd get any. The line was long and the tofu might run out before his turn came; or it might be seven o'clock before he reached the counter and he had to get out of line to catch the office bus. The new section head, Guan, worked doubly hard to parade his efficiency, watching like a hawk for anyone who came in late or left early. What Lin found most depressing was having to leave for work just before he reached the counter. He would curse the long line as he walked off:

"Damn it. Too many poor people is bad for the world!"

But he managed to buy some that day. He lined up till seven-fifteen and missed the bus, but that didn't matter since Guan was off at a meeting at the ministry and the deputy section head, He, was on a business trip. A new arrival, a college graduate, was in charge of attendance that day, so Lin kept his place in line until he got the tofu. After taking his prized purchase home, he then forgot to put it in the fridge before hurrying off to catch a public bus. He came home after work that evening to find the tofu still in the hallway, still secure in its plastic bag. It had been a hot day, so naturally it had gone bad.

His wife had come home before him, aggravating the problem of the spoiled tofu. She reproached the nanny for not opening the plastic bag and putting the tofu in the fridge. But the nanny would have none of that. She was ready to quit, since the pay was low and the food wasn't up to par, and Lin and his wife did their best to talk her into staying. The spoiled tofu did not bother the nanny one bit; she placed the blame squarely on Lin for not telling her to put it away before leaving for work. So when he walked in the door, his wife turned on him.

"I could have dealt with it if you hadn't managed to buy any tofu. But you did, so why did you leave it in the bag to spoil? What were you thinking?"

Lin had had a bad day at work. He'd thought he could be late for work that morning, but the college grad took his job too seriously and wrote him up for being "late." Lin went and changed it to "on time," but that just about ruined his day, for he worried that the new guy might report him. Now that he was home, the spoiled tofu made it worse. He was mad at the nanny for not putting it in the fridge just because he hadn't told her to. Would it have killed you to put it away? Then there was his wife, making a big deal out of nothing. It's only half a kilo of tofu. So what if it spoiled? I didn't mean for it go bad, did I? Why go on and on about it? We're both tired after a day's work and we have to make dinner and take care of the baby. Are you trying to make me more tired than I already am?

"All right, all right. It was my fault. We won't have tofu tonight, and I'll be more careful from now on."

It would have blown over if he'd stopped there, but he couldn't hold back:

"It's just half a kilo of tofu. Why raise such a stink? Did anyone complain that time you broke a vacuum bottle that cost almost eight Yuan?"

She blew her top at the mention of the vacuum bottle.

"Why must you bring that up all the time? Was it really my fault? It was in the wrong place, and anyone could have knocked it over. But forget about that and let's talk about the flower vase. What happened to that last month? It was sitting next to the wardrobe when you broke it while you were dusting. You have no right to criticize me."

With tears in her eyes, she blocked his path, her chest heaving and her face ashen. Experience told him that a bloodless face was a sign of a bad day at the office. Her work made her unhappy most of the time, just like him. But it wasn't right to vent work-related frustrations at home, and that thought caused another flare-up. He was fully prepared to continue the discussion of the flower vase if they didn't stop there. They would bring up more misadventures, talk that would degenerate into a vicious cycle, which, this time anyway, would likely result in her throwing the tofu at him. The nanny, by now used to their fights, stood nearby clipping her nails as if nothing were wrong. Her indifference stoked the fires of the argument, and Lin was ready to ratchet it up a level; luckily, a knock at the door stopped them both. His wife dried her tears while he fought to keep his anger in check, as the nanny opened the door. It was the old man who checked their water meter.

He walked with a limp, so stairs made for hard work, and he was usually bathed in sweat when he entered the apartment on his monthly rounds. He'd have to take a breather before checking the meter. A conscientious worker, he came even when the meters did not need to be checked, saying he wanted to see if they were operating properly. On this day he was there to check the meter, so husband and wife put on tranquil faces as the nanny led the old man over to the meter. But instead of leaving right away, he sat down on their bed, sending fear into Lin's heart — whenever the old man sat down, he would launch into a reminiscence of his younger days, when he fed horses belonging to a (now-deceased) government leader. The first time he heard the story, Lin was actually interested enough to ask questions, intrigued by the fact that the gimpy old man had worked for someone that important. But he lost patience as one repetition followed another. So what if you fed a big shot's horses? Didn't you wind up a meter reader anyhow? What's the point of prattling on about a dead leader? But Lin knew better than to offend the old man, who could shut off the water for the whole building if someone got on his bad side. That wrench he's holding controls the water valve and dictates that I have to listen to him talk about feeding horses. On this day, Lin was definitely not in the mood for more horse stories. It was clear that the old man had arrived during a fight, so why must he sit down without being asked? Pulling a long face, Lin stayed put instead of going over to chat with the man, as he usually did.

Oblivious to all that, the old man lit a cigarette and sent streams of smoke through his nostrils into the room. Lin was ready to be bored with horse feeding tales again, but this time, instead of bringing up the horses, the old man said he wanted to talk about something serious: the masses had complained that someone in the building was stealing water. Instead of turning the faucet all the way off at night, the thief was letting water drip slowly into a bucket, not quite enough to engage the meter. It was stolen water, and that had to stop. Could the water company stay in business if everyone did that?

Lin turned red, his wife went white. They were the guilty parties. They had indeed stolen water a couple of times the previous week, using a scam she'd heard from someone at work. She had instructed the nanny to try it, until he found it unseemly. How much does a ton of water cost? Why stoop to stealing? Besides, the drip-drip-drip kept them awake at night, so two days later they stopped. How had the old man found out about it? Who had ratted on them? Lin and his wife immediately zeroed in on the overweight neighbors across the hall. Claiming she looked Indian, the woman often dabbed a red mark between her brows. They had a child, about the same age as the Lin's daughter. The two girls often played together, which meant they also fought a lot. Because of the children, Lin's wife and the Indian wannabe were cordial only on the surface. Their nannies, however, had struck up a friendship and often put their heads together to find ways to deal with their employers. When the Indian wannabe heard the nannies talking about the theft of water, she went to the old man, who in turn had come to talk to them. But that was not something they could deal with openly, since it would make them lose standing with their neighbors. Lin rushed over to the meter man and declared that he did not know if anyone was stealing water, but that they would never do something like that; they might be poor, but they had integrity. His wife jumped in to add that whoever made the complaint must be the water thief. If not, how would they know the trick? It was the old scheme of a thief diverting attention from himself. The old man flicked the ash off his cigarette.

"No problem. Let's let this be the end of it. No matter who did it, it's in the past. We just have to make sure no one does it again."

He stood up and, with a magnanimous gesture, limped out of the apartment, leaving Lin and his wife standing there in embarrassment.

Compared to the meter man's visit and the theft issue, the spoiled tofu no longer seemed so significant. Lin grumbled about his college-educated wife: when had she become so petty? How much were two buckets of water worth? Now see what happened? Scolded by a meter man! Ashamed of her actions, his wife felt she had no right to abuse him over the tofu, so she went in to make dinner after one last searing glare. An imminent domestic skirmish had been preempted by the old man's visit, for which Lin was grateful.

Their dinner that night consisted of stir-fried green beans, stir-fried bean sprouts, sausage links, and a vegetable medley from the night before. The sausage links were for the girl, the other three for the adults, but the nanny refused to eat leftovers, claiming they upset her stomach. Lin's wife had argued with the nanny over leftovers in the past.

"So you're an aristocrat, and I have to eat leftovers, is that it? They give you stomach trouble, you say? What did you eat in the countryside?" Lin's wife fumed while the nanny cried and caused a scene, threatening to quit. In the end, Lin had to step in and talk her into staying, which gave her all the leverage she needed to never eat leftovers again. Left with no choice, Lin and his wife finished the leftovers before starting in on the new dishes. The child acted up during the meal, grabbing at one thing and throwing away another, and she was sniffling, the sign of a cold. Dinner did not end till nearly eight o'clock, when the nanny was to do the dishes, Lin to give the child her bath, and his wife was off to bed. Her office was farther than his, so she needed to get up earlier. Turning in early made perfect sense. But not this night. Without even washing her feet, she sat on the edge of the bed, lost in thought, a sight that always made Lin nervous. He was worried she might bring up something he'd rather not talk about, but luckily she went to bed after a quick wash of her feet. She could be a nag, but never in bed, and, in fact, would be asleep and sawing logs in three minutes, faster than their daughter. During the first few years of their marriage, Lin had been miffed by this trait. How could she fall asleep so fast?

"How can you fall asleep the moment you lie down? If this is how it's going to be, what do you expect me to do?"

"I work all day, and I'm out on my feet when I get home," she explained sheepishly. "Why wouldn't I fall asleep right away?"

The simple pleasures of life departed with the arrival of a baby. Besides moving several times, they had their jobs and their concerns over daily necessities, plus all the other things that involved the three of them. So, of course they were tired much of the time, and his wife became a nag, which was why he now considered her sleeping habit a plus in their relationship. Whenever they fought, he had something to look forward to — a cease-fire the moment her head touched the pillow. Lin now realized that virtues and flaws were not absolute, for one could easily turn into the other.

2

After his wife, their child, and the nanny were asleep and had begun to snore, Lin made sure everything — lights, stove, water — was turned off in the apartment before going to bed himself. In the past he'd read a book or the paper at bedtime, sometimes even get up to write something down. But now, after all the household chores were done, his eyelids would be so heavy he abandoned his earlier habits. He went to bed as early as possible, since he had to get up at the crack of dawn to queue up for tofu. The thought reminded him that the spoiled tofu was still lying in the hallway. It could be the fuse for another domestic scrap, setting off his wife when she saw it the next morning. So he got out of bed, went into the hallway, and turned on the light so he could get rid of the spoiled tofu.

2

Lin's wife was a Li. She'd been a quiet, attractive young woman before marriage. On the slight side, she was cute and well proportioned, with small, bright eyes that everyone found endearing. Back then she wasn't much of a talker. Though she was always neat and tidy, with nice, long hair, she was not particularly fashionable. After a college friend made the introduction, they started dating. She was shy at first, but he could relax and feel serene around her. There was a sort of poetic quality about her. She got him to start paying attention to language and hygiene. How in the world had that serene, almost poetic girl turned into a petty nag who rarely combed her hair and had even learned to steal water at night in only a few years? Being college graduates, they'd both been ambitious; working hard and studying late into the night, they were determined to succeed. Back then they had sneered at positions such as section head or bureau chief at a government office, and held private companies, big or small, in contempt. They never expected that in a few years they would end up just like everyone else. Life consisted of buying tofu, going to and coming from work, doing the laundry, the daily routine of eating and sleeping, dealing with the nanny, and caring for their child. By nightfall, no one was in the mood to read, not even a page. Ambition and grand plans for life, like their ideals and dreams for an impressive career, were nothing but rubbish now, something only the young can indulge in. Everyone plodded along and life went on. So what if you had ambition or a grand plan for life? So what if you had ideals or dreams for an impressive career? Dream of the Red Chamber said it best: "Where have all the generals and ministers gone? Rotting in tombs overgrown with weeds." Who will remember you after you're gone?

And yet, when he mulled over his situation, Lin was generally content. He'd gone through some tough times at work, but the experience had turned him into a mature man who knew how to deal with things. You could have what others had so long as you were patient enough to wait and avoid anxiety and panic attacks. Take housing. They'd started out sharing a flat, then moved to the slums in Niujie; when they were slated to be torn down, it was off to relocation housing; finally, after several moves over the years, they landed a one-bedroom unit. When other families were buying refrigerators and color TVs, he did not have the money, and was ashamed. But eventually they saved enough to join them. Admittedly, they could not consider buying a set of modular furniture or a stereo system, but there was no need pursue material comfort anyway. As they say, don't be in a hurry; wait patiently and communism will be here soon. What he found trying were in fact daily trivialities — spoiled tofu, for instance. In the past, he had always considered "having a wife and children sleeping in their own warm beds" a sort of peasant mentality, but in the end, that's what real life boils down to. What else is there? Was it really that easy to manage a wife, a child, and a warm bed? The wife turns into a different woman, the child is too young to know anything, and the workload never lessens. Who can guarantee that the bed will stay warm forever? At first you complain about office politics, but domestic life turns out to be just as taxing. You can be forgiven for harboring grand ideals, since you were too young and immature to understand the natural course of development in life. As the ancient saying has it, a journey of a thousand leagues starts with a single step. For Lin everything started with spoiled tofu.

So, he got up at the six the next morning, as usual, to queue up outside the state-run grocery store. His wife, who was already awake, lay there staring at the ceiling. She fell asleep fast and woke up clear-headed, unlike Lin, who needed half an hour to get out of his dazed state. It took her a mere five minutes to be completely awake and continue her thoughts from the previous night. That was a virtue; it was also a flaw. Whenever they had an argument, she would wake up and immediately pick up where she'd left off the night before. His heart sank when he saw her sitting there, lost in thought, looking just like she had the night before. He wondered what she'd do or say next. To his relief, she simply ignored him, so he hurried off to brush his teeth and wash his face, before picking up another plastic bag to slink out the door. She spoke up just as he reached for the door handle.

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Remembering 1942"
by .
Copyright © 2016 Liu Zhenyun.
Excerpted by permission of Skyhorse Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Tofu,
College,
Office,
Officials,
Recruits,
Remembering 1942,

Editorial Reviews

PRAISE FOR LIU ZHENYUN

"The power of this novel is derived, partly, from the sharp glance the author casts at the modern Chinese society, plagued by corruption, poverty, and injustice. The dark tale is lightened by the author’s delicious humor. Liu Zhenyun is an outstanding storyteller. —Lijia Zhang, author of Socialism is Great!

"Liu's fiction is a romp through modern Beijing that pits migrant workers from the provinces against billionaires and officials, making a wry statement about modern China and a thoroughly entertaining book." —Kirkus Reviews

"An intricate, dark-hearted crime tale . . . The web of deceptions, double crosses, and betrayals Zhenyun builds into his ambitious, complex novel result in a rich depiction of the criminal underworld." —Publishers Weekly

"Readers will enjoy this immersion in urban China and Liu’s rollicking-good send-up of modern-day predatory capitalism." —Booklist

"Those who enjoy Chinese literature will appreciate how the novel openly provides commentary on the disparity between the economic social classes and unscrupulous corruption found in almost any society." —Library Journal

"Government fear of chaos is omnipresent in this expertly translated political farce . . . an intimate portrait of the local politics that matter so greatly in China." —The New York Times

"A masterful tale that will make you laugh even as you despair . . . Wickedly subtle satire." —Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

"A satirical tale that nimbly examines political corruption in China." —Publishers Weekly

From the Publisher