Chapter 641 Death of the Poet
In addition to the criticism from the young students in Shanghai, the official media also officially joined in.
"China Youth Daily" opened a column "What has Wang Shuo brought to us" and launched a discussion on the "Wang Shuo phenomenon"
"Guangming Daily" published "From Wang Shuo's Novels" "What to Read in "" said: "If literature is completely based on a commodity concept, it will inevitably damage the characteristics and spirit of art...turning literature into a tool for 'amusing oneself to relieve boredom' and 'spraying rice to relieve boredom' will reject Profound, rejecting meaning and kitsch.”
Autumn in Yanjing seems to have come suddenly.
An autumn rain fell just after the National Day, and the weather turned cold. Wang Shuo, who lived in the compound, soon felt the autumn chill.
But Xijing is much hotter.
The sun has been shining brightly for several days, and people who had just put on their coats took off their coats one after another and put on short sleeves and skirts, as if summer was coming again.
Another major event occurred in the literary world: On October 8, 1993, Gu Cheng, who was far away in New Zealand, hacked his wife Xie Ye to death with an ax in his apartment, and then hanged himself under a tree.
This news spread to China and shocked the entire literary world.
There was a newspaper in the capital with a big black frame on the second page of the headline, and the four characters that stood out were "The poet is dead."
When Fang Minghua saw this newspaper, Wang Zi showed it to him.
There is nothing much to do this afternoon. Both children have gone to school. The nanny Li Xiaoqin is doing housework at home, and Fang Minghua is playing with a bunch of flowers and plants in the yard.
Li Xiaoqin works quickly and diligently. She cleans the whole house inside and outside, and basically takes care of all the housework.
But there were two things that Fang Minghua wouldn’t let her do, so he did it himself.
One is the calligraphy and painting hall on the third floor. Fang Minghua personally cleans and organizes it. Li Xiaoqin does not have the key to the door. There are also flowers and plants in the yard.
This year Fang Minghua planted more than 20 pots of chrysanthemums in the yard. It is already autumn, and Fang Minghua is ready to repot them to prepare for winter and the growth of the coming year.
Repotting is also a technical job, so Fang Minghua called Wang Zi to help.
Wang Zi has completely settled down in Xijing City. She and her boyfriend are very close, and they heard that they are planning to get married.
The girl is also a frequent visitor to Fang Minghua's house. In addition to asking Fang Minghua for advice on literature, she also plants grass and picks flowers.
However, Fang Minghua asked Wang Zi for advice on the latter.
Hearing the doorbell, Fang Minghua patted the dirt on his hands and went to open the door. He saw the girl standing at the door with a newspaper in her hand.
Before Fang Minghua could speak, Wang Zi handed him the newspaper: "Teacher Fang, Gu Cheng is dead!"
Fang Minghua took the newspaper, read it, and said, "I understand. ." He handed the newspaper back to the girl and turned around and entered the yard.
Wang Zi is a little confused. Why is the teacher indifferent to this topic that has shocked the entire literary world and even ordinary people in China?
Seeing Fang Minghua squatting down and playing with the flower pots, Wang Zi couldn't help but said: "Gu Cheng is dead. The newspaper reported it this way. Teacher, you should know what it means, right?"
Fang Minghua looked up. She smiled at a glance: "Of course I know, this is imitating the way the local newspaper reported the death of the Russian poet Pushkin, right?"
"Yes"
"But how did Pushkin die? He died in a duel with his love rival. It seems a bit stupid now, but at least he didn't harm others, right? How did Gu Cheng die? He hacked his wife to death and then committed suicide. He was a murderer. Ah."
Wang Zi hesitated after hearing Fang Minghua's words.
After a while, he said: "But, he is a poet, and his poems are very good. Teacher, I remember that you also like his poems, right?"
"Yes, I do, but this There is no denying that he is a murderer." Fang Minghua answered and picked up the flowerpot again.
"Let me help you." Wang Zi hurriedly squatted down and carefully took out a chrysanthemum from the pot.
Then I started cleaning the roots, and within a few minutes, a pot of chrysanthemums was planted in a new pot.
"Just pour some more water. Pay attention and wait for the water to be sucked up before watering again." Wang Zi patiently guided.
"Okay, I'll get the kettle." After Fang Minghua got the kettle and carefully watered the chrysanthemums in the new pot, Wang Zi couldn't help but ask: "Teacher Fang, many writers and poets in the literary world have published articles in memory of Gu Cheng. Don’t you say a few words?”
“What did you say?” Fang Minghua asked.
"No, to commemorate his literary talent and contribution to the poetry world!" Wang Zi said.
"Since there are so many people commemorating him, do you need me to say more?" Fang Minghua glanced at the girl lightly: "Everyone is mourning Gu Cheng now, but have they ever thought that his wife Xie Ye was killed by him? Who mourns Xie Ye? Ye? How does Xie Ye’s mother feel when she sees so many people mourning her daughter’s murderer? ”
Wang Zi was silent.
"So, any kind of condolences are inappropriate now. But people have died, and the dead are the most important. I don't want to say publicly about murderers, so I remain silent."
"Teacher Fang, your idea is different from others."
"Then do you think what I said is right?"
"Yes!" The girl nodded.
"That's good, bring that pot of flowers.
"Okay."
Two hours later, more than 20 pots of chrysanthemums were all turned over. Fang Minghua looked at the wooden frame next to the yard. There were two neat rows, and I felt very accomplished.
"Wang Zi, don't leave at night, eat at my house. "Fang Minghua said.
"No. I'm going to Ren Hao's place tonight. "Wang Zi said.
Ren Hao is her boyfriend.
"Okay, then I won't keep you. Why are you getting married?" Fang Minghua asked with a smile.
"Well, it is tentatively scheduled for the twelfth lunar month. The specific time has not been determined yet. I have to go back to Shanghai to discuss it with my parents."
"Okay, if you need any help, just ask."
Not long after the girl left, the phone rang in the living room. Fang Minghua went to answer it. It was Bai Miao calling.
"Minghua, many writers and poets in the literary world are mourning Gu Cheng. Don't you write an article? Publish it in the essay column of "Yanhe"?"
"Me? I won't write."
< br>"Why?"
"Wang Zi came to my house just now and asked me this question." Fang Minghua briefly recounted the conversation he had with Wang Zi just now.
On the other side of the phone, Bai Miao also fell silent.
"Hey, you don't write. Writers and poets from other provinces are talking about this matter, and writers from Qin Province once again fell into silence."
"Isn't this good? It shows that you have a conscience."< br>
“But no one submitted my article, and I can’t get enough of this popularity.” Bai Miao lamented on the phone.
"You write, you are also a writer, why don't you write?!"
"Me?"
After a while, his voice came from the microphone: "I also have to have a conscience."
(End of this chapter)