Library

Douban's top five Chinese literature of 2005, Xu Zhiyuan was moved to recommend it! Reminiscing about the growth of a father and a woman, this is a frank and touching new work by the author of "Milian's Part". "The man who loves me most in the world is gone. From now on, I can only learn to love myself." Writing about my father is not only to remember him, but also to let myself live better. Not only to say goodbye, but also to start over. My father has always made demands on himself, he has been fighting, and his life is a battle with his own nature. He also asked me to do the same. He wanted me to study hard, to overcome myself, and to get closer to a world that he yearned for infinitely. That world was far removed from him, as if the further away I was from him (or my mother), the more evidence of his success. --Ning Buyuan This is a daughter's nostalgia for her father and her hometown, and it is also a frank self-confession. His father was silent and diligent throughout his life. He tried hard to let his daughter embark on the path of education, away from the countryside and towards a better world. But does life become more meaningful away from "vulgar human touch"? How much struggle and transformation does a girl who goes from the countryside to the metropolis alone have to go through to complete the reinvention of herself? Father is a language, a place of origin, a soil, and a reference; when a daughter writes about her father, it is both emptying and filling; it is both a farewell and a new beginning.

The fate of women carried by three generations. Is it an escape from life? Or stop living as an escape? Write about the bond between daughter and mother, and the bond between people and hometown. A simple story about self-redemption. My mother, Miriam Fen, was the only tailor in Black Mountain Village and the first woman to ride a motorcycle. She walks fast, is good at making clothes, and likes to grow flowers. I don't know who my dad is, and I don't know what the provincial capital she went to looks like. My neighbor Granny Asi, a Yi woman from Laogao Mountain, married to Heishan Village. Leprosy took away her husband and children. She always took headache powder, slept next to a coffin every night, and dug a grave for herself. My friend Xiubao has a scar on his left hand from cutting pigweed. In order to help her family pay for the childbirth, she sold her braids. After menarche, she ran away and I don't know how she was doing. From the spring, autumn, winter and summer of three generations of women, "I" can only salvage a little bit.