Back to 80: My Literary Life

In the past, the mahjong den was basically at Jia Pingwa's house, but the place was a bit narrow. Ever since Fang Minghua moved into the exclusive courtyard inside Chaoyang Gate, he moved here.

However, I don’t hit frequently, only once a week, usually on weekend nights. If I hit half the night, I can sleep more tomorrow without having to go to work.

Generally, the four-person mahjong team is Lu Yao, Jia Pingwa, Chen Zhongshi and Fang Minghua, but for more than half a year, Chen Zhongshi hid in his hometown of Bailuyuan and revised his "Bailuyuan" over and over again without going into the city, so he changed to Bailuyuan. Seedling.

Song Tangtang was reading a book in the living room and playing with the kitten Bean Sprout in his arms. His son Lele was beside him and was very serious about addition and subtraction within ten. The daughter was practicing piano alone in the piano room on the second floor, with her most loyal companion, the little shepherd dog Doumiao, nestled next to her.

The tinkling tinkling of the piano complements the clattering mahjong sounds from the mahjong room in the east wing without disturbing each other.

Fang Minghua and the others didn't pay much, only fifty cents. They mainly wanted to get in the mood and relax after a busy week.

Drinking tea, smoking cigarettes, and playing mahjong are one of the great pleasures in life.

The rules of mahjong in Qin Province are simple. There are no plums, orchids, bamboos and chrysanthemums, no missing doors, and even only touching is allowed but not eating. A lot of it is based on luck and does not require too much thinking. Everyone chats while playing.

"Hey, have you heard that this year's Nobel Prize has been announced." It was Bai Miao who spoke.

"Who will win the literature prize?" Jia Pingwa asked casually as she played a card worth 80,000 yuan.

Everyone here is a writer and literati, so naturally they are very interested in this award.

"It seems to be a South African female writer named Nadine Gordimer." Bai Miao replied: "I read in the newspaper, and the Royal Swedish Academy of Literature commented on her: She described in a straightforward way the situation in a very complex environment. The relationship between individuals and society, Gordimer's literary works deeply examine the historical process, while also contributing to the historical process. "

"Have you ever heard of this female writer?"

"South Africa is so far away." Jia Pingwa shook her head and looked at Minghua: "You are knowledgeable and know a lot. Have you ever heard of this person?"

"I probably know a little bit." Fang Minghua touched a card and said: "She is a white female writer. Her novels mainly describe the white and black society in South Africa under the apartheid policy. They depict the political structure and turbulent society of South Africa. and the revolutionary movements of white and black awakening.”

"Representative works include "The People of July" and so on. I went to the United States and saw that book. It tells the story of this period. There is no Chinese translation in our country, but once it wins, someone will definitely translate and publish it."

Everyone yelled after hearing this.

Jia Pingwa took a puff of her cigarette and then said: "You said that she is a white writer, so she is a beneficiary of South Africa's apartheid system, right? Why would she write such a novel?"

"Writers all have their own moral standards and conscience. This is not surprising."

The four of them chatted while chatting, and soon they talked about the Chinese writer winning the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Lu Yao, who had been silent just now, suddenly spoke:

"I heard that Shen Congwen, who passed away, was nominated twice as a candidate for the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1987 and 1988. Especially in 1988, he was at the forefront of the candidate list. It is a pity that Shen Congwen passed away. No, he is the first person in our country to win the Nobel Prize for Literature.”

"Really? That's a shame."

"Who do you think can be the first in our country to win the Nobel Prize for Literature?"

"No need to ask, it must be one of your three great writers." Bai Miao said with a smile.

"Okay, okay, Bai Miao, don't praise me." Jia Pingwa said: "Now that Minghua and Lu Yao have won the Mao Dun Award, I will be satisfied if I can win the Mao Dun Award."

You can get it, but you have to wait more than ten years.

Fang Minghua laughed in his heart.

At this time, Bai Miao suddenly said: "Three vice-chairmen, I want to report something to you."

Seeing Bai Miao's sudden serious look, the three of them were stunned. They all forgot about the mahjong in their hands and looked at him.

"Say Bai Miao, what kind of drama are you going to sing now?" Lu Yao said.

"I just talked about the Nobel Prize and the Mao Dun Prize. I want our Qin Provincial Writers Association to establish a national literary award." Bai Miao expressed his thoughts:

"You see, the National Outstanding Short and Novella Award organized by the Writers Association has been no longer held since 1989. Now various places have held their own literary awards: Ding Ling Literature Award, "Contemporary" Literature Award for Novels, "Yalu River" works Awards and more.”

"'Yanhe' is now a first-class literary magazine in China, and all the articles it publishes are heavyweights. Why not hold a 'Yanhe' Literary Award?"

"I had this idea at the beginning of the year, but I never had the chance to report it to the leaders of the Writers' Association. When I mentioned this matter today, I will report it to the three of you in advance to listen to your opinions."

"Well, it's interesting. Tell me your specific thoughts." Lu Yao lit a cigarette and asked.

“At first I wanted to organize it in the name of Yanhe magazine, but I felt that the power was a bit weak and the award was not big enough, so I organized it in the name of our Qin Provincial Writers Association and Yanhe magazine hosted it. Every other How about it being held every year or two, mainly to reward outstanding short stories, essays or collections of essays, as well as poems and poetry collections?”

"No, no, no." Jia Pingwa objected: "Aren't you duplicating the Lu Xun Literature Award?"

Lu Xun Literature Award is also an important literary award sponsored by the China Writers Association. It aims to reward the creation of excellent novellas, short stories, reportage, poetry, essays, literary theory and criticism, and the translation of Chinese and foreign literary works, so as to promote the prosperity and development of Chinese literature.

However, it is a pity that although this award was established in 1986, due to various reasons, no award-winning works have been selected until now (1991).

Fang Minghua remembered that the first Lu Xun Literature Award seemed to be awarded in 1998.

But in any case, the reputation has been spread now.

Bai Miao heard Jia Pingwa's rebuttal, and he explained: "It's not exactly the same. I heard that the Lu Xun Literature Award is the same as the Mao Dun Award. Several works are awarded for one type. Let's be more refined and only award one work for one type. It is more valuable."

"A smaller version of the Lu Xun Award? Even worse." Jia Pingwa said again.

"Then why don't we just inherit the legacy of the original National Excellent Short Story Award and let our Qin Province Writers Association give the award!" Lu Yao came up with an idea.

"This is a good idea." Jia Pingwa agreed.

Bai Miao was a little reluctant.

Why do you discriminate against poetry and prose so much?

Let's not talk about poetry for now. Look at the prosperity of prose last year.

At this time, he suddenly noticed Fang Minghua who had been playing mahjong silently, and asked quickly: "Minghua, why don't you speak today? What are your thoughts and opinions?"

"Bang!"

Fang Minghua touched the pair of whiteboards in front of the door, and played a kind of fortune before saying: "I say Bai Miao, since you want to set up a literary award, I think you should play it big."

"How big?"

"Learn from Nobel and make a world-class one?"