Deeply aware of the contradictions of the age and concerned over his country and people, Wang Meng relies on metaphor to reflect on the complexities and relativity of human affairs. Whether it is the quest for the ideal family menu ("The Stubborn Porridge") or the last word on the great "bathology" debate ("A Winter's Topic"), Wang Meng rejects clearcut black-and-white stereotypes and suspends judgment. 

Reform, elections, meritocracy, tradition, family, academic politics, generation gaps, fashionable theories, Chinese medicine, Western technology--Wang Meng calls everything into question, exposes everything to scrutiny and turns everything into entertainment in what may has been termed "dialectic absurdism."

Wang Meng's shorter pieces are the first of their kind in contemporary Chinese writing. Some of them hark back to ancient Chinese fables which he parodies, while others belong to the universal family of "Alice in Wonderland" and Edward Albee's somewhat sinister "Little Alice." He often indulges in reckless, free-flowing word play which combines philosophic aphorisms with the earthy folk humor of popular cross-talk shows. 
 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Wang Meng was born in Beijing in 1934. Labeled a "rightest" in 1957 for one of his short stories that mildly criticized bureaucracy, he left Beijing to spend sixteen years in rural Xinjiang. When his "rightest" label was removed in 1979, he became a professional writer. Wang Meng was appointed Minister of Culture in 1986, but stepped down after the 1989 student demonstration in Tiananmen Square.

ABOUT THE EDITOR
Zhu Hong, Research Professor at the Institute of Foreign Literature, Chinese Academy of Social Sciences, in Beijing, is currently visiting professor at Boston University, where she teaches a course on Chinese women's writing. She has translated and published two volumes of contemporary Chinese short stories.

EXCERPT FROM The Stubborn Porridge

     "As I see it," my First Cousin's Husband began, "the basic issue is the system. Whether we eat sliced steamed bread or not is of no account. The basic issue is not what we eat, but who makes the decision and by what process this decision is arrived at. Through the feudal patriarchal order? By seniority of age and rank? By leaving things to anarchism? By relying on whims and caprices of the moment? According to published menus? Is accepting the inevitable a form of predestination? Let me tell you, the Key is Democracy. Without Democracy, you won't know the taste of what you're eating no matter how good it is. Without Democracy, nobody will make a stand for reform no matter how vile the food is. Without Democracy, one can only eat in an unenlightened way, not knowing the sweetness of sugar nor the bitterness of bittermelon. How can one tell the difference, when neither the sweetness nor the bitterness has anything to do with one's own choice! Without Democracy, one would be passive and dumb. The Subject would lose consciousness of the act of eating, and the Eating Subject would be alienated from its nature and reduced to a manure manufactory. On the other hand, the Eating Subject may be lost in confusion, now capricious, now indiscreet, grasping at palpable gains and seeking only short term effects, exuding hostility to its neighbors, and ultimately turn into a stomach-flaunting headless monster. In a word, without Democracy there is no choice, and without choice the Conscious Subject is alienated from its own identity."
     We listened in awe, nodding in agreement. It was as if an enlightening fluid had been injected into our brains.
     Uplifted by our reception, my First Cousin's Husband continued: "The seniority system is alright for a stagnant agricultural society. One might even go so far to say that it brings order, the sort of order suited to illiterates and idiots. I suppose people born with lower IQs will accept this kind of order-dull, sluggish, moribund. But it kills competition, it stifles man's initiative, creativity and changeability. We all know that without change there would have been no mankind, we would still be apes. Moreover, the system of seniority represses the young. A man's energy is at its most vital, his mind at its most active, his aspirations at their most ardent before the age of forty. Yet in reality, at this age they are all languishing at the bottom"
     My Son interpolated: "How true!" A few tears trickled down his cheeks.
     I signaled him to stay out of this. The fact is, ever since the fiasco of his Western breakfast program, his image had been somewhat damaged. People tended to associate him with risky adventures, empty theories, and even a hint of the Red Guard rebel spirit-more hindrance than help in any undertaking. The other members of the family, including my First Cousin and her Husband, did not take kindly to my Son. His endorsement would only discredit my First Cousin's Husband's proposal.
     "All this is fine, but what are we to do?" I asked.
     "Make a stand for Democracy!" he cried, "Hold Elections! Democratic Elections, this is the key, the acupuncture point, this is the nostril of the bull where you insert the ring, this is the central link of the chain! Everybody run for Elections! Let everyone make an election speech, like bidding for a contract: how much you charge, the kind of food you will supply, the obligations of the members of the family who join your program, how much you expect to get paid. Everything must be Open, Transparent, Codified, Documented, Legalised, Programmed and Systemised. Let the Ballot decide! Let the People cast their vote! Let the Majority rule! The minority must give in to the Majority. This principle in itself is an indication of a new concept, new spirit, new order, offsetting Rigidity on the one hand, and Anarchism on the other!"
     Father thought this over very carefully, the lines of his forehead creasing even deeper as his thoughts were profound. Finally he said: "Yes, I am all for it. But there are two obstacles to overcome. One is the Patriarch, he might object. The other is Elder Sister Xu"