Wonderful fragments of life and reading experience

After watching The Living Book, I'm going to see how the movie went. After watching half a movie, I feel that movies are different from books. In order to avoid destroying the original work, I gave up the film and prepared to talk about books.

Don't get to the point yet, take your time. The pace of this novel is slow-but it is not slow. The author wrote Fu Gui's long life in 80,000 short and pithy words at a slow pace, which was so wonderful that people could not put it down. This is very powerful.

Let's talk about the reason why I gave up movies. There is no difference between the movie and the original plot. Will the evaluation of the original work be affected after watching the movie? The answer is yes. The mood and feelings brought by a novel are very important, which is the consciousness presented by this novel. Don't underestimate this feeling and think it is a very superficial thing. Everyone has it, and everyone has a different opinion. A person's feelings for novels are completely controlled by the author, just as a social psychologist said, give me a baby with healthy body and mind, and I can completely train him into a doctor, lawyer, teacher, artist, murderer and thief according to my ideas. (environmental determinism), and the environment mentioned by social psychologists is equivalent to the "writing style" in the novel.

I remember someone asking a question, if the writing is not good, will the novel look good? Many people replied that it doesn't matter if the writing is not good, as long as the story is good. This is not right. A good story without words is as unreliable as a programmer with good ideas but no good code. Good writing can even make up for the lack of stories. The reader's ideological direction will be driven by the author's special ideas, which will directly affect the reader's feelings and determine whether the reader is willing to read after reading three chapters.

Life style is simple. From beginning to end, an old man told his story to readers in the first person. Except for the first 20 years, an old man who only knows how to eat, drink and gamble and spends too much money, the rest of the days are hard to say flowery words, so this laid the foundation for the novel, and it can even be said that it is unpretentious-this is the life of the old man. Rich words are not suitable for this novel, and there are no gorgeous words. When Yu Hua was writing this novel, he was very casual, didn't care or consider (or didn't care about the traces of life consideration), and finally wrote a good story that was inadvertently inserted in the willow tree.

The novel is calm and unemotional in the background of historical turmoil. This calm is beautiful, because Fu Gui doesn't need to be evaluated, and it doesn't involve love and hate. Adding personal feelings will ruin the novel. Fu Gui's own story is cold and clear, and he successfully completed his own story.

After reading this novel, I felt uncomfortable, so I instinctively wanted to find a reason to explain this emotion. Is it because Fu Gui has suffered so much and insisted on living? Or see how the world shatters the smallest ideals of small people? A little pretentious. The education we have received since childhood has always been like this, which is meaningless. There is no shortage of tragic literature in literature, and there is no shortage of accusations against this heartless world. The core of this novel is very pessimistic, close to Taoism.

As I said before, this novel is calm and beautiful, because the wealth in it doesn't need to be evaluated, and it doesn't involve love and hate. Benevolence and inhumanity, good and evil, life and death, happiness and disaster, love and not love, are all the same to Tao. Everything belongs to chaos, and living is living for no reason, just because we simply live.

Everyone has a story. Fu Gui is old. He lives alone with his old cow, Fu Gui. "Fu Gui, your hair is white!" "This sentence has always appeared in the novel. Yes, my hair is white. When I walk in the old street, I see faces eroded by years. Deep wrinkles are like trenches and moats, and the brand of time is mercilessly engraved on the once proud and immature face. I just know what a career is. My silver hair records my past and past. The old man smoking in the alley spent a seemingly peaceful day in the smoke.