1978 Synthetic Writers

Chapter 216 Top Five World Literature
The Institute of Literature and Art asked the students' units to provide them with a period of creative leave and held a farewell banquet before the end of their studies.

The farewell banquet was held in the dining hall. The canteen of the Party School had some of the qualities of a military emergency response unit.

On ordinary days, cornmeal cakes, hawthorn porridge, and rice were steamed in bowls, and dishes were stewed in large pots and scooped into a row of enamel basins with large spoons.

When it comes to such a critical moment, eight cold dishes, eight hot dishes, main dishes and desserts are served immediately. Even the neatly arranged cups, plates and bowls are brought out. In the middle of the circle of cold dishes, there are bottles of wine.

Cao Yu came here with Wan Fang.

"Teacher Cao Yu." Jiang Xian, the only student, greeted him.

As for Wan Fang, Jiang Xian's relationship with her was still tense at the moment, so he just greeted her indifferently.

She responded simply as well.

Wan Fang is feeling uncomfortable at the moment.

Last month, she asked a friend to submit a manuscript to The New Yorker. After waiting for a long time, she finally received a reply from her friend. She was very happy to see that it was a long letter and thought it was suggestions for revisions to the manuscript.

Upon closer inspection, it turned out that her friend told her that the manuscript had been rejected, and that the reason she wrote such a long article was to ask her for information about the writer string.

She said that the New York Times, one of the three major newspapers in the United States, announced the top ten most popular novels in the United States in July and August these two months, and novels by Chinese writers were selected for two consecutive months.

In addition, this novel was also mentioned in the book recommendation program of NPR National Radio in the United States. When commenting on this novel, the commentator compared the author ST with the Austrian writer Schnitzler.

Now Americans call him ST. She said exaggeratedly that if ST was not a Chinese, he might have competed for this year's Pulitzer Prize for Fiction.

The Pulitzer Award is one of the highest honors in American journalism and is known as the "Oscar" of American literature.

It is selected and awarded annually to authors who have created outstanding works in the fields of fiction, biography, history, poetry, etc.

The Pulitzer Prize for Journalism has no nationality restrictions, but the creative writing award is only given to writers of American nationality. The winner must be an American. The only exception is the historical writing award, and those who write about American history are eligible to win the award.

"It lacks the demeanor of a great country." Wan Fang couldn't help but complain.

But what made her imagine even more was that she heard the English translation of the novel from her friend, which roughly means "A letter from an unknown woman."

She couldn't help but look at Jiang Xian, who was chatting and laughing with her father at the moment.

Could it be him?

She didn't dare to confirm.

If it was Jiang Xian, then he was too tight-lipped, as if he didn't take it seriously and I never heard him mention it at all.

Thinking about what she had said before, if it was really Jiang Xian, then her face would be so painful.

In the courtyard of the Institute of Literature, students like Jiang Xian and Cao Yu were walking in groups of two or three with their instructors, visiting the institute's premises and taking pictures under the trees in the courtyard.

Jiang Xian was undoubtedly the one who was envied, because the person taking photos with him was Cao Yu, China's leading playwright.

The status of "Thunderstorm" in the drama world is still enduring after a hundred years.

There was a chair with an armchair moved from the dormitory under the tree. Jiang Xian invited Cao Yu to sit down. He stood to one side behind Cao Yu, facing the camera with a bright smile.

There are only him and Cao Yu in the camera, and he must keep this photo well.

As for the surroundings, if looks could kill, Jiang Xian would have died hundreds of times.

That's what envy and jealousy are all about.

The information about the instructor was not made public, everyone just visited him privately. No one expected that Jiang Xian’s instructor was Cao Yu.

After taking the photos, Jiang Xian strolled around with Cao Yu for a while. He was in a good mood today, so the two of them found a pavilion to sit down.

During the chat, I learned that, based on the agreement between the Japan-China Cultural Exchange Association, starting from this year, China and Japan will each send a delegation of dramatists to visit each other every two years.

This year is the first time, and naturally Cao Yu, the president of the Beijing People's Art Theatre, will lead the delegation.

Cao Yu felt very sorry.

I had missed giving Jiang Xian guidance for a long time before, and this time he went to Japan, and I don’t know how long it will take for him to come back.

"Do you want to go?" Cao Yu suddenly asked.

"Me? Are you kidding me?" Jiang Xian was stunned for a moment, then said honestly, "I would like to go, but unfortunately I'm not a member of the Dramatists Association."

"If you want to go, I can help you get a job as a staff member." Cao Yu was cheerful and said, "You should go out more to learn and see more of the world."

Staff members are not counted in the delegation membership quota. They are generally caregivers for older members and accompanying translators, and are considered temporary personnel traveling abroad.

Jiang Xian thought about it and refused.

As the saying goes, one cannot receive reward without merit, and one cannot receive favor without virtue, and there is nothing he must do in Japan.

Cao Yu didn't expect to be rejected by Jiang Xian. He paid more attention to etiquette and said apologetically, "Please forgive me, I was a little abrupt."

"Don't ever say that."

Jiang Xian was startled. "If you have the chance in the future, please take me out to see it."

The dinner was held quickly. Everyone was reserved at first, but after drinking, the atmosphere became relaxed.

Many students played Jiang Xian and talked about his article "The Grass House".

They were particularly interested in Qu Xiaowei and Guo Yudao because they are both writers of children's literature.

"How did you write such a work? I can't write it." Qu Xiaowei kept saying.

Guo Yudao was thin, his face was pale, and he looked a little weak. "It's really well written. Both the plot and the writing are very good, and the characters are vivid enough."

Qu Xiaowei came up and revealed, "Comrade Yudao also wrote a literary review for you."

"Really? Thank you very much." Jiang Xian said sincerely.

Wang Meng drank a few glasses and enthusiastically talked about his ranking of the world literary scene.

"The first one is of course Tolstoy. Tolstoy's greatness is beyond doubt."

Wang Yao held his signature pipe in his mouth, puffing away. “You should add a premise and exclude the playwright. Otherwise, how can we compare Tolstoy and Shakespeare?”

"Yes, the playwright should be eliminated." Wang Meng nodded in agreement.

He took a sip of water and continued to count: "The second one is of course Dostoevsky. Dostoevsky and Tolstoy are two superstars, two eternal mountains."

No one could refute this statement. Tolstoy and Dostoevsky are two literary masters recognized by the whole world. No other writer can compare with them. Only these two are qualified to compete for the supreme throne of literature.

At this moment, everyone at the table was focused on Wang Meng.

"What about third?"

"The third one." Wang Meng pondered for a moment, "Flaubert, the great leader of French literature."

Qin Zhaoyang, editor-in-chief of Contemporary, shook his head and said, "I don't agree. Dickens should be ranked before Flaubert. Dickens is the British Tolstoy who dared to fire at the dark reality. How could he be ranked behind Flaubert?" Both Wang Meng and Qin Zhaoyang's statements made sense. The other instructors began to comment on the superiority of the two of them.

“Without Flaubert, novelists all over the world wouldn’t even know how to write a novel. What a remarkable contribution this is.

His "Sentimental Education" is such a great work, no matter how you look at it, he should be ranked third."

"Dickens is a literary giant and social conscience, the greatest British writer. A Tale of Two Cities and David Copperfield are both classics handed down from generation to generation."

There was a huge argument at the table, and finally they asked Cao Yu for his opinion. Cao Yu just smiled and said, "They are all great, they are all good."

This is his personality, and he is not playing Tai Chi. He truly feels from the bottom of his heart that these characters are great.

The students listened with great interest.

Seeing that the quarrel had turned into a mess, Li Qingquan had to try to smooth things over.

"Well, Dickens and Flaubert are tied for third place, so let's just go straight to fifth."

Wang Meng laughed and said without a doubt: "Proust, Remembrance of Things Past is an absolute classic."

Wang Yao immediately disagreed.

"How could it not be Stendhal? Armance and The Red and the Black are such great works."

“It should be Kafka.”

As a fan of the novel, Wu Zuxiang could no longer sit still. "We've been talking about Russian and French literature for so long. Isn't Chinese literature great? The fifth one should be Mr. Cao Xueqin."

Comrade Wang Yuanjian brought up Mr. Lu Xun.

Mr. Lu Xun is perfectly suited to be the face of Chinese literature. Chen Danqing once said that Mr. Lu Xun is the face that best represents Chinese literati.

Wang Meng saw that there was a lot of controversy and the teachers had strong opinions about what he said, but he didn't get angry. He just smiled elegantly.

He then caught a glimpse of Jiang Xian sitting quietly beside Cao Yu the whole time, staying out of the matter, and couldn't help but add fuel to the fire.

"Jiang Xian, what do you think?"

"Ok?"

"As for the ranking I just mentioned, the top five, what do you think?"

Jiang Xian pursed his lips and smiled, looking well-behaved, "I think what you said is very good."

"Look at this guy, he's not honest at all." Wang Meng teased, "He's clearly thinking about something, which means he has an idea in his mind, but he just won't say it."

"Then you have wronged me."

Jiang Xian said with a look of grievance: "I was wondering why the ones discussing the rankings just now were all teachers, while we students rarely got a chance to get a say."

After he said this, everyone at the table looked at him, and Jiang Zilong couldn't help but grin. Comrade Jiang Xian's focus was as different as ever.

Jiang Xian continued to talk, "I wonder, is it because I don't read enough, or am I not confident in my identity?
It’s probably not because she reads less. Comrade An Yi has read all the famous foreign works since she was a child. There are few works she has not read.”

Suddenly being called by Jiang Xian, Wang Anyi blushed and explained in a low voice, "My understanding is relatively superficial and cannot be compared with the teachers."

“I think it’s because I’m not confident in my own identity. This confidence comes from my academic qualifications. My lack of cultural level makes it difficult for me to speak with authority.

I don’t know how young writers in foreign countries are doing now, but our young writers seem to have a degraded knowledge structure. Take me for example, I only have a junior high school education, and I believe that the education level of most students is not much different from mine.”

Wang Anyi and Tie Ning both nodded. They both graduated from junior high school. Chen Shixu and some other students were even more embarrassed as they only graduated from elementary school.

Jiang Xian paused, and then continued, "I heard that in the Soviet Union, the Gorky Literary Institute, which is similar to the Institute of Literature, has a writer training model equivalent to that of a university, and graduates are awarded a higher education degree. I've also heard that the Institute of Literature held a 'graduate class' a few years ago."

When he got to the key point, he lost his voice.

Everyone else is anxious.

"Have you finished speaking?"

"That's it. What do you want to say?"

Jiang Xian looked helpless, as if this was not what he wanted to say, but you forced me to say it.

"I'm thinking that there is no way to get the Writers Association and the Ministry of Higher Education to discuss raising the academic qualifications of writers like us, at least to get rid of the status of 'laymen'.

And the term "Literature Institute" doesn't sound good either. I heard Ms. Ding Ling say that a toilet is also a institute, why must it be called a "Literature Institute"? I agree with her. Does it sound good?"

Li Qingquan was stunned. "If it's not called Wenjiang Institute, what should it be called?"

Jiang Xian looked innocent, "Literary Institute, or College of Literature. The Soviet Union had the Gorky Literary Institute. Didn't Professor Wang Yuanjian just say that Mr. Lu Xun is the representative of Chinese literature? So why don't we call it the Lu Xun Literary Institute and grant graduate degrees?"

Good guy.

Wang Meng wanted to kick this guy in the butt.

At first, they were pushing for the training class to be turned into a literature institute, and now they are pushing for the literature institute to be turned into Lu Xun Academy of Literature, and also offer postgraduate degrees.

The abacus made a crackling sound.

"I know it's very sensitive for me to raise this, and I'm not doing this for myself."

Jiang Xian looked selfless, "This is about the national system!"

Oops.

The corner of Wang Meng's mouth twitched. She crossed her arms over her chest and listened to the boy continue speaking in an orderly manner.

"I heard that writers often hold exchanges internationally. If our writers go out to exchange ideas, they will all be PhDs or postgraduates. Our writers will just write on the information sheet that they graduated from elementary school or junior high school. Think about it, isn't this inappropriate?"

Hiss.

The cadres of the Institute of Literature listened to Jiang Xian's words and began to think seriously.

What Jiang Xian mentioned is not without reason. This matter should indeed be put on the agenda and resolved for the writers as soon as possible.

After all, a well-known writer like Jiang Xian only has a junior high school education, which is a very scary thing.

This shows that the entire team of writers is in a state of anemia.

Jiang Xian took a sip of wine, and said sincerely, "If Chinese literature wants to go global, it will be almost empty talk without a team of writers with considerable accomplishments.

How I wish that decades later, when I am old and I hear people around me talking about the world literary scene, they will mention a few more Chinese names in this ranking.

They are China's Tolstoy, China's Dostoyevsky"

The dining hall was quiet, and everyone's face showed anticipation.

Perhaps it was because he had drunk a little wine and was feeling sentimental, so he was easily moved by the beauty described by Jiang Xian.

(End of this chapter)