The Moon Opera--Bi Feiyu

What an odd short novel.  I'm still puzzling over what to make of it, and so, in some regard my review of it may be unsatisfactory--but were I to wait until I was done puzzling I might not write.

Synopsis--Xiao Yanqiu, star of The Moon Opera throws boiling water on her mentor and understudy in a fit of rage. She is consigned to the role of mentor herself and for twenty years does not take the stage.  And then a businessman sponsors a revival of The Moon Opera and Xiao Yanqiu has the opportunity to mentor a young student herself.

from The Moon Opera
Bi Feiyu

Le Xuefen won over the officer and men of the Armored Division, who saw in her portrayal of Chang'e an echo of the commanding presence of Ke Xiang--PLA cap, straw sandals, and pistol in hand--even though on this night Ke Xiang was in traditional costume. Li Xuefen had a booming voice with a crisp, clear tone, one that bespoke passion. Her sonority had evolved and strengthened over a decade or more, until it was widely recognized and dubbed the "Li Xuefen school of operatic singing."

Throughout there are touches of humor and a great deal of information about Chinese Opera in general.

from The Moon Opera
Bi Feiyu

Slow by nature, he was a man who could saunter along even if his head were on fire. But not this time; this time he was scared witless, so flustered he didn't know what to do. Finally, he pikced her up and carried her to the hospital: then, in the same flustered state, he took her home. Her ankle was swollen, black and lbue, and she had skinned her elbow.

Unlike Miangua, Xiao Yanqiu was unconcerned about her injuries, almost as if she'd seen someone else fall and get hurt.  That lack of concern gave the impression that if someone were to cut off her head and place it on a table, she'd still be composed, calmly clinking her eyes.

The Moon Opera is known as one that is unbalanced and therefore, unlucky.  It is an Opera with too much yin and lacking a male presence and balance, it is known to undo its female leads.  And so it goes.

And now, for your brief introduction to the art of Chinese Opera

from The Moon Opera
Bi Feiyu

Chunlai had her reasons for wanting to study Huadan. A Huadan recites her lines in loud, crisp Beijing Mandarin, while a Qingyi drags out each word. Without translation or subtitles, it is harder to understand a Qingyi than to watch a pirated DVD. In short, a Qingyi speaks a language unknown to man. The differences are even more pronounced in terms of singing. a Huadan sings in a nimble, bright, clear manner, sound a bit like a pop singer, with a pinched falsetto. Lively and fetching, she cocks her head as she leaps around like a chirpy sparrow. A Qingyi , on the other hand, take forever to sing a single word, squeaking and creaking, swaying three times with each step, with one hand over her midsection and the other gesturing with a curved pinkie as she hums and croons: you could get up, got the the bathroom, finish your business, wipe yourself front and back, and return to your seat, only to find that she is still on the same word.

I'm sure there are some who view western opera in the same way.  And I've attended some performances of Madame Butterfly where the paragraph above seemed very suitable.

The story evolves, becoming progressively odder, more obsessive, and bizarre.  It becomes the story of obsession of the artist becoming the art form and of the meaning of being an artist. 

Perhaps.

Or perhaps it is actually about something else entirely--something I've not yet wrapped my mind around.  Whatever it is a story about, it is tightly written and has moments, such as those identified above, that make it worth the hour or so you'll spend reading it.

**** Recommended, particularly to aficianadoes of east Asian literature.