Sad state of affairs
It has been a heady few weeks for Yiyun Li. Firstly, her new book of short stories, Gold Boy, Emerald Girl, was released to widespread acclaim: The Guardian called it 'delicate and haunting'; The Independent praised its 'potent emotional force'. And then Li was among an elite group of artists, scientists and activists who received a MacArthur 'genius' award. Bestowed once a year, it recognises 'talented individuals who have shown extraordinary originality and dedication in their creative pursuits' with a grant of US$500,000.
Not bad for a writer who hardly spoke a word of English until she was 23, when Li moved to the United States from Beijing. Until she landed in her adopted homeland, Li hadn't contemplated writing a single word of fiction. Her subject might be the seismic cultural and political shifts of China's past and present, but as a novelist, Li was made in America.
When I speak to Li from her home near Oakland, California, she sounds run off her feet, and not only because her two young sons are competing noisily for her attention. 'It's a little hectic at the moment,' she says. 'Lots of touring for the book. And now the MacArthur.' I ask how she feels about receiving what for a literary author is a life-changing amount of money. 'Of course I am very happy. But I really haven't had time to plan my life. I'm in the middle of a novel. There is no change just yet.'
In conversation, the 38-year-old is modest, cheerful and rather guarded. When I ask her opinion of imprisoned activist Liu Xiaobo winning the Nobel Peace Prize, she is reluctant to say anything. 'Oh,' she begins, sounding surprised at the question. 'I have to say I didn't really read the news, I just saw the headline. I can't make any comment until I understand everything. I really need some time off to think.'
Li's reticence is perhaps understandable. Expatriate Chinese writers are often open to criticisms of voyeurism and detachment. Li is no different. 'I worry about it all the time. To me that is very expected. Nothing surprises me, either positive or negative from China. They just confirm my expectations.' Does she feel she presents a dark vision of China? 'I would say I present a dark image of life. I write about America and America is not any brighter in my writing than China. And anyway, most writers don't present bright pictures of human nature to readers.'
This dark vision of life now extends across three concise, melancholy but beautifully nuanced volumes. Li first attracted attention in 2005 with A Thousand Years of Good Prayers, a collection of stories that created her fundamental fictional world: lonely, isolated people striving for love, acceptance and truth. Having won The Guardian's First Book Award, Li gave her template the widescreen treatment in her debut novel, The Vagrants. The plot circles around the execution of a young woman, Gu Shan, accused of being a counter-revolutionary. Set in 1979, the tale features several sombre characters (and a lunatic called Bashi), only this time they intertwine in a newly materialistic China.