Jumping Through Hoops: Autobiographical Stories by Modern Chinese Women Writers

Can This Also Be Called an Autobiography?

Can Thi s Als o Be Called a n Autobiography? Zhao Qingge Translated b y Jing M. Wan g Zhao Qingge (1914-99) was from Xinyang, Henan. Graduating from Henan University (Henan daxue) in 1932, she became a well-known novelist and editor, and continued writing until the 1980s. She played an active role in the theater for national defense during the War of Resistance against Japan, including play writing.When playwrights and actors were forced to retreat to the countryside by Japanese occupation, they catered to the taste of the rural populace and turned to traditional theater forms, such as musical drama. Zhao's writings include essays, diaries, fiction, drama, and film scripts. As a prolific writer, she produced more than twenty plays, not the least of which are spoken drama series A Drea m of the Red Chamber (194346 ) and Peaches and Plums in the Spring (Taoli chunfeng, 1943). Her novella Wind (Feng , J 940) and long novel The Moon Hanging in the Willow Branches (Yue shang liu shao tou, 1946) are also well-known. Zhao compiled A Specia l Collection of Fiction by Modern Chinese Women Writer s (Xiandai Zhongguo nii zuojia xiaoshuo zhuanji, 1949), which was reprinted as Selecte d Fictio n b y Moder n Wome n Writers (Xiandai nil zuojia xiaoshuo xuan, 1950). She also compiled textbooks, such as An Introductio n t o Ar t an d Literature During the War of Resistance (Kangzhan wenyi gailun, 1939) and Victory o f Counterattack: Propagand a Plays Durin g th e Wa r o f Resistanc e (Fangong shengli: kangzhan xuanchuan wutai ju, 1940). 190 • ZHAOQINGG E Northern Chin a wa s lovely. In autumn, i t was not to o cold nor to o warm, the sunligh t sof t an d pleasant . Oftentimes , a gentle breez e passed, lightl y caressing m y lonesom e hear t lik e a mother' s hand . Falle n leave s swirle d and drifted i n the fields. The earth acquired a brownish color. Crickets sang their clear, lusty, and melodious tunes. I always had special feelings for such a landscape. Wherever I went later in life as an adult, I insisted that autum n in Northern Chin a wa s simply beautiful . At about nine years of age, I began to know melancholy. I seldom spent time with other children. At school, I did nothing but read and never ha d a good time with my classmates. When I came home, I dreaded t o see th e way tha t m y cousins cuddle d wit h thei r mothers . I often though t tha t a n orphan shoul d no t mingl e wit h childre n wh o ha d mothers , fo r wheneve r they quarrelled, thes e childre n woul d us e their mother s t o put o n a show of power . Eve n a t time s o f peace , the y coul d no t hel p displayin g smu g feelings abou t the fact tha t the y had mothers. Take, for example , my fift h cousin, a daughter of a maternal uncle. She never failed to brag to me about a new garment or some candy. She would say, "Look, my mother made me new clothe s again. " Or, " I got thi s delicious candy . M y mother bough t i t for me." These jarring words often reduced me to tears in my best of moods! Because o f this, I had t o avoid thes e children an d keep t o myself. Havin g grown accustome d t o m y ow n company , I came t o dislik e excitemen t ( I still have th e sam e personality now) . Once, I found a goo d frien d wh o no t onl y kep t m e compan y i n m y solitude bu t als o comforted m e i n m y sadness. It was not a human being . It did not tal k but san g songs of different tempo s an d pitches . During th e day, it s song s ha d a fas t rhyth m an d a hig h pitch , a s i f t o brea k th e oppressive atmospher e aroun d m e an d t o inspir e m e t o brav e i t all . A t night, the y...