Ma Jian says Chinese writers need to speak up about the past:

“The most powerful words written in Chinese last year were not by a novelist, but an unknown citizen who placed in a Sichuan newspaper an ad that simply said: “Respect to the mothers of the victims of 6/4.” The young clerk who had approved it for publication hadn’t grasped the significance of the date. The slip was soon discovered by the authorities, and three of the paper’s editors lost their jobs.

The Chinese people have been denied knowledge of their past and the right to reflect on it. Large gaps exist in the collective memories of the nation. It is the role of Chinese novelists, poets, bloggers and journalists around the world to help fill them.”

An excerpt from Ma Jian’s recent novel, Beijing Coma, published my Macmillan:

“Technically speaking, he’s a vegetable,” says a nurse to my right. “But at least the IV fluid is still entering his vein. That’s a good sign.” She seems to be speaking through a face mask and tearing a piece of muslin. The noises vibrate through me, and for a moment I gain a vague sense of the size and weight of my body.

If I’m a vegetable, I must have been lying here unconscious for sometime. So, am I waking up now?