Wang Ping - The Book War

 

When I was six, the Cultural Revolution spread to the island where I live. It was in the East China Sea. It crushed my dream to read every good book on earth. Everything was shut down, stores, factories, schools, libraries. My father was exiled, my mother arrested for teaching Western music. As the eldest child, I had to feed my family, my grandma, two sisters and a brother. I raised chickens, grew vegetables in the backyard, and walked six miles every morning through minefields and bullets to look for food for the family. Two years went by. My dream seemed to be more and more dangerous and impossible. 

 

One early morning, I took out my stove to light a fire. This little stove cooked three meals every day for my family. I opened the door and saw Jaja. She was reading Mao's book under the streetlight. Her face smeared with tears. Who would weep over Mao's words these days? Let alone Jaja, the uppity girl from Beijing who had been exiled to the island with her father, waiting for the verdict from central government, either to go back to Beijing as a general or go to Mongolia to die. 

 

I tiptoed over and peeked. I gasped. The book she was reading had nothing to do with Mao. It was Hans Christian Andersen's Little Mermaid, the story I had heard on the radio a year ago that sparked my dream for good books and go to college. I had begged mama to let me go to school a year earlier, so I could read on my own. Mama agreed and even promised she would buy me a whole set of Andersen's stories if I got good grades. But the Cultural Revolution began. Her students became Chairman Mao's Little Red Guards. They shaved her head, along with other teachers, paraded them on the street. They came to our homes, took all our books and burned them on the street. I had raked every book pile before burning, hoping to find my mermaid, but no luck. 

 

Now, I found her in Jaja's hands, wrapped under Mao's red book cover. Jaja was so engrossed with her story, she didn't know I was reading over her shoulder until she heard me sobbing. She jumped. Little Mermaid clutched her chest. Her eyes told me she would fight me to death if I dared to report her. We glared at each other. Suddenly, we laughed, pointing at each other's tear-streaked face, so we know our secret is safe. 

 

I begged Jaja to loan me the book, just for a few hours. I would read it in the cornfields. Grandma would pound me for not bringing food home this day today, but I didn't care. Jaja shook her head, walked back home. I said, “Wait, wait, I have something to trade with you.” She snorted and kept walking. I don't blame her. Why would she believe that I would have anything worthwhile for her? “I have Yi Qian Ling Yi Ye” I whispered. She paused. I took my time walking to the chicken coop to retrieve my book. I knew she would be waiting, because Yi Qian Ling Yi Ye AKA the Arabian Nights was the most banned and most difficult book to get. I had found it outside Uncle Shi's apartment. When he died of TB, his family threw out everything, including his book collection on the street, hoping the Red Guards would burn it for them. But nobody would touch his stuff.

 

The book had been rained upon, yellowed by the sun, but I didn't care. The stories had brightened my gloomy days. Arabian Nights [sings]. I sang, waving the book to Jaja’s face. She snatched the book from my hands and thrust the Little Mermaid into mine. “How and where did you get this?” She screamed. I smiled, “We underground book traders have this rule, no question asked.” [audience laughter] We agreed to return next day, to return the books or renew. But two weeks went by. I couldn't finish the book. I had to feed my family from morning till night, and besides, I had no place to read. 

 

I shared the bed with my siblings. My grandma also slept in the same room. I tried to read in trees, in the public bathroom, in the cornfields, but I almost got caught a few times. So, Jaja finally let me in her bedroom. We load around on her bed reading, chatting. I finally confessed that Little Mermaid had inspired me to find every book and read and go to college. And Jaja confessed that she had been practicing dancing like Little Mermaid. We fantasized that someday we would love to form our own underground Little Mermaid book club, so we would have endless books to read. But we would need more than just two books in our hands right now. 

 

One of my chores was to raise chickens. I have 10 hens and one rooster. My favorite was Silky. Silky had white feather and black face. Even her bones, her meat and blood were black. Grandma told me the best tonic for human. So, whenever Silky went into hatching mode, my mom would order me to kill her for the meat. I had managed to save Silky a dozen times, but this time, I knew she was determined to hatch her eggs. So, I started digging a nest for her behind the chicken coop to keep her away from weasels and mama. 

 

A few strikes, my pickaxe hit a wooden box. I brushed away the mud and pried open the lid. Music sheets of Chopin, Beethoven. Underneath books, Shakespeare, Huckleberry Finn, Dead Soul, War and Peace. And to my disbelief, The Complete Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen. On the first page, mama's handwriting, “To my stubborn Ping.” [audience laughter] So, mama had actually fulfilled her promise, but she couldn't give me the book before the Cultural Revolution began. I ran to Jaja and dragged her over to the treasure box. We screamed, ran around like headless chickens, chanting, “Our Little Mermaid Club. Our Little Mermaid Book Club.” Jaja found a bunch of her friends who also exiled to the island with their families. They each had a cache of banned books. We gathered in the woods, cut our wrists, mixed our blood together to swaying as Little Mermaids. [audience laughter] 

 

Now, we have hundreds of books to read. Stories, poetry, history, philosophy, math, physics, even military training manuals. We were careful. If we got caught, we would go to jail, including our families. A year went by, Jaja got ambitious. She wanted to expand the club, so we had more books to read. I told her to wait. Something bad was about to happen. That night, I dreamt a monster picked me up by my braids and threw me into a fire pit. I woke up in pain. Mama was dragging me out of the bed and into the kitchen. Andersen's book in her hand, “Where and how did you get this?” She screamed and a hist. 

 

I looked at her. She knew damn well where I got this book. I wanted to know how she found this book. I had hidden it under grandma's mattress, the last place she would look because the two of them were constantly fighting. Mama slapped my face with the book, busting my mouth open from inside. I tasted blood. “Go, get the whip,” she said. Her whip was made of bamboo skin and it hurt more than leather belt. We had to bring it to her as part of the punishment. “You want to kill us all, you stupid girl? I'm going to kill you first.” She wept. I covered my face with my hands. The pain was unbearable. Not from the whipping, but from knowing that I would never see my mermaid again. 

 

“Go bring the stove,” she ordered and opened the window. Then she watched me tear the book page by page and feed it to the fire. I could hear Little Mermaid scream as she turned into ash. “Where is the rest?” she asked. I knew she had to find everything from the box and destroy them before they destroyed us. But I had sworn to protect my book with my life. Mama threw down her whip and started searching, pulling up floorboards, mattresses and drawers. She knew where to look. She was my mama. Soon, a huge pile gathered by the window. She sat down and watched me burn every book. 

 

When all was gone, she went back to bed. I walked to the chicken coop. Silky came over with her babies, nudging my hand for food. I looked up. No star, no moon, no hope. The book club had been my only joy and now it's gone. I was choking with tears. When a voice came, “Go to the mountains, Little Ping. Tell your story to trees, birds and your mermaid friends. They could burn your books, but not your story.” I stood up. I knew what I was going to do. 

 

I finished my chores that day as usual, then went to the woods with Jaja. Nobody said a word. The bruises on my face said everything. We looked at each other for a long time. Suddenly, words flew out of my mouth like stars forming a constellation of Little Mermaid, her beauty and courage to go after her dream at any cost. Everyone was listening as if it were their first time. This is how we started our storytelling club. We would tell stories to each other in the woods, to our siblings at home. Then we moved to the yard. Children and adults gathered over fire. Everyone would bring a piece of wood. We were hungry and cold, but we had stories. Soon, when we finished all our stories from our collection, we started making our own. And people loved it even better. 

 

When Jaja turned 14, I threw her a big party. She was leaving the island with her father to Mongolia. I told a story that sparked our friendship five years ago, the story about a girl from the sea who had kept us alive all these years. Over the blazing fire, I spotted mama. She had tears in her eyes as she listened. My heart quivered with joy. I might have lost my book battle with her, but I had won the war. No, we had won the war together. Our books had been burned, but not our story, not our hope. That was the moment I realized my college dream would come true, even though it still seemed dangerous and impossible. Thank you.