Rumors are often unreliable, and truth is never easy to come by. For example, a few days ago, I heard a Canadian friend say in the circle of friends that Canada is providing a monthly subsidy of $2,000 due to the epidemic. I was a little surprised when I saw it, and turned to ask another Canadian friend of mine if he had not received it? The reply is:
On the other hand, I should not be surprised since? has a bad government that will bankrupt the nation in due time.
So I still don’t understand it yet What's going on with Canada's COVID-19 subsidies? If a person always says that he is telling the truth and his novels are true, no matter who he is or whether he has won the Nobel Prize, I think it is questionable. Let me give you a few examples from "Big Breasts and Big Butts". Do you think they are real?
The third sister, no, she is a bird fairy. The prescriptions she prescribes are extremely strange and full of mischief. The prescription she prescribed for a person suffering from stomach problems was: seven bees, a pair of dung balls rolled by dung beetles, one tael of peach leaves, and half a catty of egg skins, which should be ground into powder and mixed with boiling water. The prescription she prescribed for a man wearing a rabbit-skin hat and suffering from eye disease was: seven grasshoppers, a pair of crickets, five praying mantises, and four earthworms, pounded into a paste and spread on the palm of his hand. The man with the eye disease picked up the prescription floating out of the window and looked at it with a disrespectful look on his face. We heard him muttering in a low voice: "It's really a bird fairy. The prescriptions he prescribes are all bird food." The man muttered and left, and we felt ashamed for the third sister. Grasshoppers and crickets are all delicacies for birds. How can they cure people's eye diseases? Just when I was thinking wildly, the man with the eye disease came running back, knelt in front of the window, kowtowed as if pounding garlic, and kept saying: "Forgive me, Gao Xian, please forgive me..." The man begged for mercy repeatedly, and the third sister was in the house. sneer. Later we heard that as soon as the talkative man went out, an eagle swooped down from the sky and pricked his head with its claws, then grabbed his hat and flew away. There was also a man with evil intentions who pretended to have urethritis and knelt in front of the window to seek medical treatment. The Bird Fairy asked from the window, "What's wrong with you?" The man said, "I have difficulty urinating and am freezing." Suddenly there was no movement in the room, as if the Bird Fairy had abdicated because of shyness. The man was so bold that he put his eyes to the window hole and looked in. But then he screamed. An extra-large poisonous scorpion fell on his neck from the window and gave him a slap in the face. His neck soon swelled up, and his face swollen along with his neck. The man's eyes were so swollen that they looked like two slits, which looked very much like a giant salamander.
I immediately put my hands into the snow basin in front of me and let the holy snow wash away the dirt on my hands. Then I raised my hands and stretched forward. According to the rules, those women who pray for children in the coming year, those who pray for strong milk supply and healthy breasts should lift their clothes and use their breasts to cater to the hands of "Snow Master". Sure enough, two balls of warm, soft flesh touched my cold hands. I felt a warm wave of dizzy happiness pass through my hands and spread quickly throughout my body. I heard the woman in front of me let out an uncontrollable gasp. Those two breasts were like hot doves that stayed in my hand for a moment and then flew away.
The first pair of breasts flew away before I could touch them enough. I was a little disappointed, but more hopeful, I put my hands into the snow to restore them to cleanness and sanctity. I waited with some anxiety for the second pair of breasts. The second pair of breasts are coming up, I won't let you fly away easily this time. I grabbed them with my stiff hands. They are small and exquisite, neither soft nor hard, like little steamed buns just out of the cage. I can't see them but I know they are white and smooth. Their heads are very small, like two small mushrooms. I held them, silently murmuring my best wishes. Pinch it, and I wish you have three fat children in one birth. Give it a couple of squeezes, and may your milk be as strong as a fountain. Give it three squeezes and may your milk taste as sweet as nectar. She moaned softly and jerked away.
Feeling deeply guilty, Shangguan Jintong held her tightly and fulfilled her wish before her body lost feeling.
After he left her body exhausted, a few sparks burst out of her eyes, then extinguished, and her eyelids slowly closed.
If the above is true, do I have reason to suspect that Mo Yan has touched more than 100 pairs of breasts and committed adultery out of good intentions? Of course you can’t think so! But with Mo Yan repeatedly emphasizing the authenticity of his works, his writing style is good, the writing is real and vivid, and it really makes people think that the plots in it really happened.
Novels are inherently fictions, fictions based on reality. The above fictions are harmless and we can all understand them. But it’s hard to understand how the volunteer combat hero turned into a heinous sexual sadist. No wonder the famous writer Liu Baiyu was very indignant when talking about Mo Yan and his works. He said that this novel is really like the world. The rivers are declining. We have fought bloody battles to create a great country, but we have fostered these moths. It is sad and infuriating. If Wu Jing, who had starred in "King Kong River", watched it, would he also be angry? We can't help but ask, does Mo Yan's character have a prototype? Is there any evidence for what happened in the novel? Look at Mo Yan’s acceptance speech. His writing process seems to have no basis for research at all, but is basically based on hearsay and adding fuel and jealousy. If you don’t believe it, please read:
Some time ago, a storyteller came to the market. I secretly ran to listen to books and forgot about the tasks she assigned me. For this, my mother criticized me. At night, when she was busy making cotton clothes for her family with a small oil lamp, I couldn't help but retell to her the stories I heard from the storyteller during the day. She was a little impatient at first, because in her mind, storyteller They are all glib and dishonest people, and nothing good can come out of their mouths. But the stories I retold gradually attracted her. From now on, every market day, she would no longer arrange work for me and would allow me to go to the market to listen to books. In order to repay my mother's kindness and to show off my memory to her, I would vividly tell her the stories I heard during the day.
Soon, I was no longer satisfied with retelling the stories told by the storyteller, and I kept adding fuel to the fire during the retelling process. I would do what my mother wanted, make up some plot points, and sometimes even change the ending of the story. My audience is not just my mother, but also my sister, my aunt, and my grandma. They have all become my audience. After listening to my story, my mother would sometimes say worriedly, as if to me or to herself: "Son, what kind of person will you be when you grow up? Are you going to make a living by being a talker?" ?”
After dropping out of school, I mingled among adults and began a long career of “reading with my ears.” More than 200 years ago, there was a great storyteller named Pu Songling in my hometown. Many people in our village, including me, are his descendants. I listened to many stories about gods and ghosts, historical legends, and anecdotes in the fields where collective labor was done, in the stables of the production team's cowshed, on the hot bed of my grandparents, and even on the rickety oxcart. Interesting stories, these stories are closely related to the local natural environment and family history, which gave me a strong sense of reality.
In the boring life of the military camp, I ushered in the ideological liberation and literary boom of the 1980s. From a child who listened to stories with my ears and told them with my mouth, I began to try to tell stories with my pen. . The road was not smooth at first. I did not realize at the time that my more than twenty years of rural life experience was a rich mine of literature. At that time, I thought that literature was about writing about good people and good deeds, about heroes and models. Therefore, although I published a few works, their literary value was very low. "Mo Yan. Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech"
As a result, Mo Yan was scolded like a drowned dog. See Mo Yan's "Miscellaneous Thoughts on Reading Lu Xun"
Last year, because of the movie "Big Breasts and Wide Hips" and the "100,000 yuan grand prize", I suffered an unprecedented violent attack. If I were timid, I would have been scared to death by those good guys. I know that what they do is not literary criticism at all, so there is no way to carry out counter-criticism.
I know that each of them has great hands and eyes, and among them are those seniors who have rich "struggle experience" and have devoted their lives to manipulating people to give them advice and act as their strong backing. How can I, a small writer, be their opponent? ? But after reading Lu Xun, I felt bolder. I am not qualified to learn the spirit of beating a drowned dog praised by Lu Xun, but I am qualified to learn the spirit of a drowned dog. I was knocked into the water by you, but unfortunately you didn't beat me to death, so I climbed up. My fur was full of water and mud, so I took this opportunity to shake it up a few times to commemorate the first anniversary of the publication of "Big Breasts and Wide Butts".
Exactly: I fell into the water and a rabid dog crawled ashore covered with bruises. It shook its tail and shrugged its fur, revealing a large area of ??muddy water. Heroes, come and fight, it's comfortable to hit the water. If you don't beat me, I'll just go and make a lot of money by writing small articles.
In Chapter 39 of "Big Breasts and Big Buttocks", Bird Han told such an interesting story:
He had a fierce fight with this mentally ill bear. He was exhausted and knocked to the ground by the bear. The bear sat on him, shaking his heavy buttocks, slapping his chest, laughing wildly, celebrating his victory. He was knocked so hard that his bones almost broke. In desperation, he had an idea and stretched out his hand to scratch its testicles. This tickled the guy, and he crossed one of his legs obediently. While scratching, he pulled out a thin rope from his waist. With the help of his teeth, he pulled a rope buckle and put it around the root of the bear's testicles. The other end of the rope was tied to a small tree. He continued to scratch and slowly dragged his body out. He rolled, got up and ran. The male bear pounced forward. There was a strange pain in the testicles. The pain in this place was very different from the pain in other places. He said that men knew it, and so did rogue women. Seizing this place is tantamount to seizing the lifeblood of a man. The bear fainted instantly.
Isn’t Bird Han a reflection of Mo Yan himself? Under the banner of truth, he vented his ugliness to his heart's content. His novels are 70% true, 100% ugly, and the other 30% good.