Ha Jin Ocean of Words
Born in 1956, Jin is a Chinese-American poet and short story writer.
Jin was raised in China during the Cultural Revolution and immigrated to the United States in 1985. He chose to write in English, despite the challenges this presented to him, since "it would be impossible for him to write honestly in China," Jocelyn Lieu has reported. The author of two collections of poetry (Between Silences, 1990, and Facing Shadows, 1996), Jin gained critical attention, and the 1997 Hemingway/PEN Award for First Fiction, with his short story collection, Ocean of Words (1996). Set on the forbidding Chinese-Russian border in the early 1970s, the stories in Ocean of Words focus on longing, loss, betrayal, and rivalry. Jin has observed about his own writing: "As for the subject matter, I guess we are compelled to write about what has hurt us most." In "Dragon Head," widely considered the best piece in Ocean of Words, an elderly iconoclastic veteran recounts a battle of wits between an army officer and a local militia commander involving betrayal, political machinations, and the truth about Mao Tse-tung's regime. Jin's fictional world also incorporates humor and irony into its Maoist milieu. "Miss Jee" centers on a less-than-sturdy soldier targeted by his joking comrades, while "Too Late" comically portrays a political instructor who interferes in a love affair between a young soldier and an orphaned girl. Jin has recently released a second collection of stories, Under the Red Flag (1998), which won the 1997 Flannery O'Connor Award; a third book, In the Pond, is due out in 1998. Overall, reception of Jin's work has been positive. Andy Solomon determined that Jin's stories are "powerful in their unity of theme and rich in their diversity of styles." Lieu expressed admiration for Jin's "laconic, luminous prose" in Ocean of Words, which she designates "a nearly flawless treasure." A Publishers Weekly reviewer concluded that "Jin's characters make hard choices that will move not just readers interested in China or the army life, but any reader vulnerable to good writing and simple human drama."
SOURCE: A review of Ocean of Words, in Publishers Weekly, February 26, 1996, p. 98.
[In the following review of Ocean of Words, the writer notes Jin's "talent for humor" and "good writing."]
Set on the Chinese-Russian border in the early 1970s, these short stories by this poet (Between Silences) and veteran of the People's Army, quickly draws the reader into Chinese army life with all its rivalries, propaganda and poignancy. "Dragon Head" follows a fascinating battle of wits between an army commander and a local militia commander ("If this were the Old China, no doubt Dragon Head would become a small warlord") through the twists and turns of betrayal and political intrigue. In "Miss Jee," about a soldier who is the helpless butt of his comrades' jokes, Jin also shows a genuine talent for humor. But the author is at his best when telling the stories of soldiers forced to choose between ideology and love. Whether it is love of a woman or love of knowledge, Jin's characters make hard choices that will move not just readers interested in China or the army life, but any reader vulnerable to good writing and simple human drama.
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SOURCE: A review of Ocean of Words, in The New York Times Book Review, June 2, 1996, p. 21.
[In the review below, Solomon summarizes the themes and tone of Ocean of Words.]
A veteran of the People's Army, the Chinese poet Ha Jin (who now teaches at Emory University) has produced a compelling collection of stories [Ocean of Words], powerful in their unity of theme and rich in their diversity of styles. Set along the Chinese-Russian border in the early 1970's, they range from a droll sketch of an affectionately derided, delicate young soldier to a painfully iconoclastic parable in which an old veteran reveals the ugly truth of Mad's Long March. Warily eyeing Soviet troops from their watchtowers, the characters in these stories believe that "they were barbarians and Revisionists, while we were Chinese and true Revolutionaries." But what they are all revealed to be is achingly human. Whether nurturing lifelong grudges against enemy soldiers, aiding vagabond neighbors who once betrayed them or witnessing the slaughter of an ox, these men isolated in a forbidding landscape are brought together to form a group portrait that suggests how an entire people struggles to keep its basic humanity within the stiff, unnatural confines of Maoist ideology.
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SOURCE: "Beating the Odds," in Chicago Tribune Books, December 24, 1996, p. 6.
[In the following review, Lieu compares and contrasts Jin's Ocean of Words with Chinese writer Wang Ping's Foreign Devil.]
These are two extraordinary, original works of fiction, similar in subject and spirit, by two Chinese American writers. Wang Ping, who was born in 1957, and Ha Jin, born in 1956, both grew up in China during the turbulent Cultural Revolution. Both emigrated to America in 1985 and began writing—and publishing—thereafter. (Ha has written two books of poems, Between Silences and Facing Shadows. Wang's critically acclaimed short-story collection, American Visa, was published in 1994. A collection of her poems—she has won a National Endowment for the Arts fellowship for her poetry—is due out from Coffee House next spring.)
Both also have chosen to write in English, which in Ha's case is based on more than just geography. About his decision to emigrate and leave behind his native tongue, Ha has said, alluding to restrictions of freedom of speech in his homeland, that he realized it would be impossible for him to write honestly in China. Writing in English "meant a lot of labor and some despair—but also, freedom."
Wang, in Foreign Devil, her first novel, and Ha, in his story collection Ocean of Words, explore the upheavals...
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SOURCE: A review of Under the Red Flag, in The New York Times Book Review, January 11, 1998.
[In the following review, Bricklebank faults the "political exigencies" of the themes and Jin's narrative technique in Under the Red Flag.]
Dismount Fort is a country town ruled under the red flag of China's Cultural Revolution, a place where feudal custom has been further warped by the political dogma of a new social order. Ha Jin's dozen stories about Dismount Fort [in Under the Red Flag], which won the 1997 Flannery O'Connor Award, inform us that noble goals do not prevent many of these country people from scrambling for wealth, revenge and prestige, or from seeking the opportunity to address lingering resentments. In one story, an arrogant and miserly Communist finds that as small a thing as an accidentally smashed Mao button can lead to his downfall. In another, a widow who in the course of a rape kills the nephew of a party boss poses a terrible problem—until her actions can be recast into patriotic propaganda. Unfortunately, these sorts of political exigencies seem awfully familiar, especially when used in the service of well-worn themes. And Ha Jin's narrative style isn't much of a help. As plain and stiffly serviceable as a Mao uniform, it lacks expressive elegance and leaves the reader wishing for greater psychological richness, for colors other than red.
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