HARD LIKE WATER

Chinese novelist Yan sets aside the “mythorealism” of books past to deliver a gritty, memorable story of love in a time of choler.

Revisiting his The Four Books (2015), Yan takes us to a mountain village where just about everyone is descended from the Confucian scholars known as the Cheng Brothers, to whom a temple is dedicated. Gao Aijun, one young man outside the Cheng clan, has returned to Chenggang after serving in the army just in time for the Cultural Revolution. Married into the local Communist Party chief’s family—“it was precisely because he was Party secretary that I married his daughter,” he admits—Gao is a man on the make; he also confesses to harboring a desire to kill his wife. His bad behavior builds when he falls in love at first sight with a beautiful outsider who is married to the local schoolteacher, Cheng Qingdong, who “appeared very cultured and intellectual and looked as though he were about to be swept away by the revolution.” Wooing her with a timely pitch—“Hongmei, let’s pursue revolution together”—Gao goes about waging a war on the village leadership and, as Mao commanded, destroying the monuments of old, serving his own interests even as he carries on the affair. The two make love where they can, even inside a tomb where “the smell of death and decay mixed with the scent of damp straw,” unappealingly enough, even as, one by one, those who stand in their way disappear from the scene. Hongmei isn’t quite Lady Macbeth, but she still spurs Gao to commit more crimes so that, “when half of this town government is yours, we won’t have to sneak around like thieves anymore.” Their revolutionary ardor dims a touch when they run afoul of bigger party bosses, however, and Yan’s study of power and class struggle becomes, in the end, a near-classic tragedy with the subtlest of nods to his version of magical realism.

Admirers of Yan’s work won’t be disappointed with this turn to straightforward narrative.