Buying a Fishing Rod for My Grandfather: Stories – Nobel Prize-Winning Fiction on Memory, Love, and the Haunting Power of the Past

Buying a Fishing Rod for My Grandfather: Stories – Nobel Prize-Winning Fiction on Memory, Love, and the Haunting Power of the Past

“Precisely detailed and delicately suggestive: the best work of Gao’s yet to appear in English translation.”—Kirkus Reviews A collection of six exquisite short stories from Gao Xingjian, the first Chinese writer to win the Nobel Prize in Literature. T hese beautifully translated stories take as their themes the fragility of love and life, and the haunting power of memory. In “The Temple,” the narrator’s acute and mysterious anxiety overshadows the delirious happiness of an outing with his new wife on their honeymoon. In “The Cramp” a man narrowly escapes drowning in the sea, only to find that no one even noticed his absence. In the title story the narrator attempts to relieve his homesickness only to find that he is lost in a labyrinth of childhood memories. Everywhere in this collection are powerful psychological portraits of characters whose unarticulated hopes and fears betray the never-ending presence of the past in their present lives. “For all their elusiveness, these impressionistic sketches have an austere power.” - New York Times Book Review “A collection of superb short stories that deftly experiment with language and narrative form … the elegant simplicity of [Gao’s] meditations on memory, loss, and love ache beautifully with a melancholic desire to understand the past… immensely rewarding and enriching.” - Rocky Mountain News “Beautiful.” - Village Voice “The force of Gao’s imagination is spellbinding.” - San Jose Mercury News “Stands shoulder to shoulder with some of the foremost fiction of the moment.” - San Francisco Chronicle “An austere power” - New York Times Book Review “Dreamlike … the force of Gao’s imagination is spellbinding.” - San Jose Mercury News “[Gao’s] narrators walk as if in a dream through a private landscape of memory and sensation.” - Boston Globe “Precisely detailed and delicately suggestive: the best work of Gao’s yet to appear in English translation.” - Kirkus Reviews “These spare, evocative pieces. . . offer a sample of Nobel-winner Gao’s sharp, poetic early work.” - Publishers Weekly These six stories by Nobel Prize winner Gao Xingjian transport the reader to moments where the fragility of love and life, and the haunting power of memory, are beautifully unveiled. In "The Temple," the narrator's acute and mysterious anxiety overshadows the delirious happiness of an outing with his new wife on their honeymoon. In "The Cramp," a man narrowly escapes drowning in the sea, only to find that no one even noticed his absence. In the titlestory, the narrator attempts to relieve his homesickness only to find that he is lost in a labyrinth of childhood memories. Everywhere in this collection are powerful psychological portraits of characters whose unarticulated hopes and fears betray the never-ending presence of the past in their present lives. Gao Xingjian (whose name is pronounced gow shing-jen) is the first Chinese recipient of the Nobel Prize in Literature. Born in 1940 in Jiangxi province in eastern China, he has lived in France since 1987. Gao Xingjian is an artistic innovator, in both the visual arts and literature. He is that rare multitalented artist who excels as novelist, playwright, essayist, director, and painter. In addition to Soul Mountain and One Man's Bible, a book of his plays, The Other Shore, and a volume of his paintings, Return to Painting, have been published in the United States. Buying a Fishing Rod for My Grandfather Stories By Xingjian, Gao Perennial ISBN: 0060575565 Chapter One The Temple We were deliriously happy: delirious with the hope, infatuation, tenderness, and warmth that go with a honeymoon. Fangfang and I had planned the trip over and over, even though we had only half a month off: ten days of wedding leave, plus one week of additional work leave. Getting married is a major event in life, and for us nothing was more important, so why not ask for some extra time? That director of mine was so miserly: anyone who went to him requesting leave had to haggle; there were never instant approvals. The two weeks I had written in my application he changed to one week, including a Sunday, and it was with reluctance that he said, "I'll expect you to be back at work by the due date." "Of course, of course," I said. "We wouldn't be able to afford the salary deduction if we stayed any longer." It was only then that he signed his name, thereby granting us permission to go on leave. I wasn't a bachelor anymore. I had a family. I would no longer be able to go off to restaurants with friends as soon as I got paid at the beginning of the month. I wouldn't be able to spend so recklessly that by the end of the month I wouldn't have the money to buy a pack of cigarettes and would have to go through my pockets and search the drawers for coins. But I won't go into all that. I'm saying that I -- we -- were very happy. In our short lives, there hadn't been much happiness. Both Fangfang and I had experienced years of hardship, and we had