MARGARET JACKSON

How great it is

It was seven years ago that I first read Wang Xiaobo. The title "Golden Age", Huaxia Publishing House published, vulgar cover, paper shit yellow. At that time, the editors of the publishing house seemed to have this imagination, the book called "The Golden Age" had to cover with bird shit yellow, the book called "A Clinique Story" had to cover with chicken shit green. A man named Wang Xiaobo was printed on the title page, the same picture you would see in bookstores and streets: He was standing in front of Shakespeare's house in the sun, frowning, grinning, hunched over, wearing a turd yellow T-shirt. Introduce said this Wang Xiaobo is a literary world outside the article master, said also got a Taiwan what award. One of my senior sisters, who had a good taste for literature, threw me a novel and said, "It's worth reading. It's funny. She introduced me to Kurt Vonnig and Philip Roth, and she thought Yu Hua was a good guy when he first started out. I was going to the bathroom, and I had dry bowel movements, and my mom said God made my bowel movements dry because I gave her a hard labor. It was in this unpleasant dryness that I read The Golden Age in one sitting. I was so happy with discovery, like Archimedes discovering the law of buoyancy in the bathhouse, that I almost pulled up my pants and ran out into the street.