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?