Do Not Say We Have Nothing
Madeleine Thien
[Granta]
The gulf between past and present becomes paper-thin in Madeleine Thien’s Man Booker shortlisted novel, in which Chinese-Canadian mathematics professor Li-ling recalls Tiananmen Square-era tragedy, the new hope brought by recent émigré Ai-ming, and pieced-together episodes of their families’ vast and convoluted history. Remembrance is a group effort, born of inscrutable documents in flowing calligraphy, and Li-ling herself admits that she may have “lost track” of “the chapters and permutations of the story”. Meanwhile, their relatives’ saga crosses paths with the mysterious, samizdat Book of Records, which is missing a few chapters itself. A tale of adventurers, great loves, and secret messages, the Book nevertheless pales in comparison to the travails of Swirl, Big Mother, and Sparrow, who cross the country fleeing civil war only to face the Cultural Revolution. Thien’s luminous, moving prose delicately illuminates crushing fates – but she does not romanticise suffering, nor gloss over trauma. Pain leaves its marks: whenever the protagonists finally appear established, new calamity rises to engulf them.
Thien’s characters are complex, and yet their calling is disarmingly straightforward. Awake or asleep, their minds are haunted by music – a passion mirrored by the novel’s symphonic construction. As young violinist Zhuli ponders, “Prokofiev, Bach and Old Bei occupied the space that the Party, the nation and Chairman Mao occupied for others […] How had she been made differently?” The challenge of aesthetic and political conformity provides a compelling frame of reference for the simultaneous alienation and multiplicity of Li-ling’s immigrant experience. Also called Marie, but also 女 (“Girl”, or “Daughter”), Li-ling knows that these names are “all real”, and yet she fears that each name takes up “so much space” that she herself “would eventually disappear”. Similarly diaphanous are the limits between languages – English, Cantonese, and Mandarin, but also mathematics and music – and the borders between literature, history, and dreams. As shadowy as China’s history is – certain retellings are still politically suppressed – Thien’s narrative is lucid. This story, at least, will be remembered.
Words – Mònica Tomàs White
