Disgusting, but not shocking

The joke doing the rounds in Beijing is that the Swedes gave the Nobel Literature prize to the wrong Chinese. It should have gone to the Communist Party’s propaganda department, for writing the enthralling fantasy about the Politburo’s wife who (supposedly) pours cyanide into the mouth of a British businessman (or spy, as most people believe). Then, in a country which happily executes people for stealing bicycles, it lets off Neil Heyward’s murderer, Gu Kailai, with a suspended death sentence. Meanwhile, her husband, Bo Xilai, who (supposedly) siphoned off billions by extorting money from private businessmen, has so far only lost his party card. That’s the problem with China: it is so hard to write biting satire when there is such serious competition from the state sector.

Mo Yan (born in 1955) maybe a prolific and popular writer, but his novels, however grotesque and horrible their characters are, always seem to miss the mark.