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kyatic's review against another edition
2.0
So, here’s a thing that too many male authors do. They want to describe a woman, and they want to make it clear that she’s a woman. She's a sexual being, you know? She's a woman! All feminine and full of the good stuff, like ovaries and a uterus and other bodily bits that men just don't have. She's a woman. Not a man. Very different things. He's flesh and blood and bone. She's flesh and blood and… breasts. That’s important to remember. Women have breasts. Big breasts are good, because that way you know that they’re a woman. Otherwise, you might not notice the breasts and you might get them confused with men, and that would be bad, because men and women are different. Men don't have breasts, for one thing. That's probably the biggest difference between men and women.
The other difference is that men and women's narratives aren't the same, because men make narratives and women have narratives happen to them. Men's stories are about men doing man things, like going on journeys and meeting people and overcoming personal obstacles at great peril and awe-inspiring triumph, and women's stories are about them doing woman things, like having sex with men against their will and being chopped up and dying and still looking kind of hot when they're dead, because they have breasts. Until their breasts are chopped off, of course.
So, how do you make it clear that your character is a woman? Do you describe her innermost thoughts? No, you can't really do that when the character is just a passing person and the story is told in the third person. Well, do you rely on that pesky little pronoun, 'she'? Maybe. But 'she' is so subtle, isn't it? Where's the fun in 'she'? What if it's still not clear that your character is a woman? What if your reader skips past the 'she' and makes the terrible assumption that your character might be a man? You could always rely on the whole idea that women's stories are different, and describe your character getting chopped up or sold to a man or forced to have sex with her father, but that takes time. It's not immediate. How do you make it instantly clear that this is a woman, not a man? How do you differentiate?
Luckily, male authors the world over have discovered a foolproof way to get past this, and that is by relying on the other important difference between men and women, and making sure that you mention her breasts. Constantly. Every few pages, if necessary. She's walking downstairs? Great! Make sure that you mention how her breasts are jiggling. She's on a bus? Fantastic! Don't forget to describe how her breasts move up and down! She's lying down? Phenomenal! What effect does gravity have on her breasts? Don't neglect to go into detail! She's standing nearby? Awesome! Make certain that we know how big her breasts are, because that says a lot about who she is as a character. As a woman. With breasts.
This book is 81 pages long, discarding the afterword. This book mentions breasts on 12 separate occasions, and there are not 12 female characters in this book. When the narrator is a man, he notices the breasts of the women around him. When the narrator is a female, she thinks about her own breasts. When the narrator is telling a story that someone else has told to him, that person also conveniently notices other women's breasts. Breasts are mentioned once every 6.75 pages in this book. That's a whole lot of tit.
And the thing is, I get that the women in this book have terrible things happen to them. I get it. What I don't get is why the author feels the need to eroticise it. A dead woman is laid out on a rock, and he thinks about her breasts, and compares them to the breasts of a woman he saw on a bus. A woman is raped by her father and we're told that he does it because he can't resist her breasts. A man thinks about his sister, who has grown up since he saw her last, and notices how large her breasts are and how they 'jerk and move'.
This eroticised violence doesn't come across as critical. We're not invited to say 'boy, this is horrible, isn't it? Isn't it terribly sexist that he's about to chop up a woman's dead body and he's distracted by how great her tits are?' Instead, we're invited to look at these woman alongside the narrator. The author places a friendly arm around our shoulders and pulls us in, and tells us it's OK to look. It's OK to turn these women into objects, or into one body part. It's fine, because they're women, and that's how women function in narratives! They're there to be looked at, aren't they? They're there to be sexual. To have things done to them. We might as well join in. They're not real, after all.
Honestly, the women in this book are all like that dead woman in the first story. None of them is alive, or human, or a woman. They're all just mammaries.
The other difference is that men and women's narratives aren't the same, because men make narratives and women have narratives happen to them. Men's stories are about men doing man things, like going on journeys and meeting people and overcoming personal obstacles at great peril and awe-inspiring triumph, and women's stories are about them doing woman things, like having sex with men against their will and being chopped up and dying and still looking kind of hot when they're dead, because they have breasts. Until their breasts are chopped off, of course.
So, how do you make it clear that your character is a woman? Do you describe her innermost thoughts? No, you can't really do that when the character is just a passing person and the story is told in the third person. Well, do you rely on that pesky little pronoun, 'she'? Maybe. But 'she' is so subtle, isn't it? Where's the fun in 'she'? What if it's still not clear that your character is a woman? What if your reader skips past the 'she' and makes the terrible assumption that your character might be a man? You could always rely on the whole idea that women's stories are different, and describe your character getting chopped up or sold to a man or forced to have sex with her father, but that takes time. It's not immediate. How do you make it instantly clear that this is a woman, not a man? How do you differentiate?
Luckily, male authors the world over have discovered a foolproof way to get past this, and that is by relying on the other important difference between men and women, and making sure that you mention her breasts. Constantly. Every few pages, if necessary. She's walking downstairs? Great! Make sure that you mention how her breasts are jiggling. She's on a bus? Fantastic! Don't forget to describe how her breasts move up and down! She's lying down? Phenomenal! What effect does gravity have on her breasts? Don't neglect to go into detail! She's standing nearby? Awesome! Make certain that we know how big her breasts are, because that says a lot about who she is as a character. As a woman. With breasts.
This book is 81 pages long, discarding the afterword. This book mentions breasts on 12 separate occasions, and there are not 12 female characters in this book. When the narrator is a man, he notices the breasts of the women around him. When the narrator is a female, she thinks about her own breasts. When the narrator is telling a story that someone else has told to him, that person also conveniently notices other women's breasts. Breasts are mentioned once every 6.75 pages in this book. That's a whole lot of tit.
And the thing is, I get that the women in this book have terrible things happen to them. I get it. What I don't get is why the author feels the need to eroticise it. A dead woman is laid out on a rock, and he thinks about her breasts, and compares them to the breasts of a woman he saw on a bus. A woman is raped by her father and we're told that he does it because he can't resist her breasts. A man thinks about his sister, who has grown up since he saw her last, and notices how large her breasts are and how they 'jerk and move'.
This eroticised violence doesn't come across as critical. We're not invited to say 'boy, this is horrible, isn't it? Isn't it terribly sexist that he's about to chop up a woman's dead body and he's distracted by how great her tits are?' Instead, we're invited to look at these woman alongside the narrator. The author places a friendly arm around our shoulders and pulls us in, and tells us it's OK to look. It's OK to turn these women into objects, or into one body part. It's fine, because they're women, and that's how women function in narratives! They're there to be looked at, aren't they? They're there to be sexual. To have things done to them. We might as well join in. They're not real, after all.
Honestly, the women in this book are all like that dead woman in the first story. None of them is alive, or human, or a woman. They're all just mammaries.
books4chess's review against another edition
1.0
“Tibetans believe death isn’t a sad occasion, merely a different phase of life”
~ The book has 4 short chapters, each telling an individual tale from his visit to Tibet. Three of the chapters offer a female protagonist who has been entrusted into the care of men who exploit them and are ultimately their downfall. The other is a chapter of a young nomad trying to find his family but equally meeting his doom. The tales become more gruesome and in my opinion the novel reads as story-telling of male abuse, not specific to Tibetan culture as advertised.
Let me preface this. I want to like Ma Jian. He’s one of the leading Chinese modern lit authors. I am working my way through his entire works and more and more I’m becoming disillusioned with his reputation. Firstly, the entire first chapter is copied and pasted from Red Dust. For a four chapter novel, that’s lazy. Secondly, he began by explaining “I forgot what my ex wife looked like even though she was the reason that I was leading this sad and vagrant life”. He chooses to omit the fact he hated his job and chose to leave, repeatedly broke the law and was on the run for his own behaviour. Ma Jian takes no responsibility for his actions. Even in the novel, he meets a Tibetan man who sexually assaulted his daughter and is now searching for her. Ma believes he knows where the girl is and chooses not to tell the man. Not for her safety, but to prevent the man from bothering him with more questions.
The stories are horrific, depressing and Ma claims they represent Tibetan culture. He admits Sino-Tibetan relations aren’t doing well but he offers a very one sided tale.
Further, there is no criticism in regards to what the people have experienced, merely the experiences are stated as facts. They were assaulted, frozen to death, sold and left for dead. The novel is cheap, written for shock value and from a clear bias with no desire to go deeper. The mere 90 pages and big font make that clear.
~ The book has 4 short chapters, each telling an individual tale from his visit to Tibet. Three of the chapters offer a female protagonist who has been entrusted into the care of men who exploit them and are ultimately their downfall. The other is a chapter of a young nomad trying to find his family but equally meeting his doom. The tales become more gruesome and in my opinion the novel reads as story-telling of male abuse, not specific to Tibetan culture as advertised.
Let me preface this. I want to like Ma Jian. He’s one of the leading Chinese modern lit authors. I am working my way through his entire works and more and more I’m becoming disillusioned with his reputation. Firstly, the entire first chapter is copied and pasted from Red Dust. For a four chapter novel, that’s lazy. Secondly, he began by explaining “I forgot what my ex wife looked like even though she was the reason that I was leading this sad and vagrant life”. He chooses to omit the fact he hated his job and chose to leave, repeatedly broke the law and was on the run for his own behaviour. Ma Jian takes no responsibility for his actions. Even in the novel, he meets a Tibetan man who sexually assaulted his daughter and is now searching for her. Ma believes he knows where the girl is and chooses not to tell the man. Not for her safety, but to prevent the man from bothering him with more questions.
The stories are horrific, depressing and Ma claims they represent Tibetan culture. He admits Sino-Tibetan relations aren’t doing well but he offers a very one sided tale.
Further, there is no criticism in regards to what the people have experienced, merely the experiences are stated as facts. They were assaulted, frozen to death, sold and left for dead. The novel is cheap, written for shock value and from a clear bias with no desire to go deeper. The mere 90 pages and big font make that clear.
nini23's review against another edition
1.0
I had recommended that my library purchase this book after reading about the author's work and being banned from attending a conference in China. To my delight, the library accepted my recommendation. Tibet is a country I am, like many others, fascinated with and dream wistfully of visiting one day. This book promised a chronicle of rare experience of Tibetan customs and culture.
This privileged experience was wasted and not treasured by this Chinese author, IMO. In the first story where he has the honor of attending a sky burial, he fantasizes about the dead woman's breasts!!?! Before that, to bribe the guard into letting him witness the sky burial, he offers his own girlfriend for sex to the guard!!
Uncouth, boorish, misogynistic. Colossal waste.
This privileged experience was wasted and not treasured by this Chinese author, IMO. In the first story where he has the honor of attending a sky burial, he fantasizes about the dead woman's breasts!!?! Before that, to bribe the guard into letting him witness the sky burial, he offers his own girlfriend for sex to the guard!!
Uncouth, boorish, misogynistic. Colossal waste.
inspiredbygrass's review against another edition
3.0
I read this as part of the #invisiblecities2020 project where we are encouraged to read translated works from three countries a month . As part of my reading I am also aiming to read about dispossessed or marginalised people within each territory, bearing in mind that national borders are dynamic and those in power often use an internal other to maintain control .
So this book, set in Tibet, was banned in China when originally published in the nineteen eighties and it's author, Ma Jian a Han Chinese reporter , has been in exile ever since. It's a collection of five short stories which encompass surrealism , myth , degradation and violence and was the product of Jian's search for spiritual utopia in Tibet . What he found instead was a country destroyed by imperialism and a population both brutalised and brutalising .
We learn in his afterword that , on his return to Beijing, he poured his anger and frustration onto the page and the result is a text that is both visceral and shocking. Unfortunately, perhaps because of the immediacy of his emotions , his depiction of the shocking sexual violence against women reads more like sadistic or voyeuristic indulgence than a nature critique of a system of oppression.
I understand women are proxy for Tibet and also that any critique of a dictatorship has, by necessity, to be coded so am boosting to three stars . I'm sure this book may have had a bigger impact for Chinese and Tibetan readers
So this book, set in Tibet, was banned in China when originally published in the nineteen eighties and it's author, Ma Jian a Han Chinese reporter , has been in exile ever since. It's a collection of five short stories which encompass surrealism , myth , degradation and violence and was the product of Jian's search for spiritual utopia in Tibet . What he found instead was a country destroyed by imperialism and a population both brutalised and brutalising .
We learn in his afterword that , on his return to Beijing, he poured his anger and frustration onto the page and the result is a text that is both visceral and shocking. Unfortunately, perhaps because of the immediacy of his emotions , his depiction of the shocking sexual violence against women reads more like sadistic or voyeuristic indulgence than a nature critique of a system of oppression.
I understand women are proxy for Tibet and also that any critique of a dictatorship has, by necessity, to be coded so am boosting to three stars . I'm sure this book may have had a bigger impact for Chinese and Tibetan readers
barbarabarbara's review against another edition
adventurous
emotional
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
3.75
ashesmuses's review against another edition
4.0
Controversial banned book because it paints a Tibet ravaged by mainland policies and agendas. Short but interesting read.
thebobsphere's review against another edition
2.0
Imagine you're given your favourite meal ever and then you find out that it is the size of a pea (unless it is a pea) the end result is that you have something which potentially could be amazing but there's so little of it you end up feeling unsatisfied.
That's the feeling I got with Stick out your Tongue. It is a great and uplifting story about a traveller who encounters a tribe whose brutal rites and rituals appear more pure to him than what he encounters in his pampered life. It can also function as a commentary on what is happening to Tibet.
As a story this is GREAT but I wished there was MORE so the plot did not affect me the way it should and when I finished it I felt kind of empty. The epilogue is worth a read as it about how the novel created problems for Ma Jian as the authorities found it too shocking.
I still have a lot of mixed reactions but I will give this novel a re-read so hopefully my opinion will change.
alexandramilne's review against another edition
3.0
Read my other book reviews at booksibled.wordpress.com
This has to be the weirdest book I have read for this challenge. It’s also the only banned book I’ve read this year. I’m not normally the sort of person who says goes out of her way to read banned books but I wanted something totally different to anything I’d read this year and I certainly found it. ‘Stick Out Your Tongue’ was originally written by Ma Jian in Chinese and published in 1997. It was banned for “harming the fraternal solidarity of the national minorities,” but not only was this book banned, the ban covered all his future work too. Even that wasn’t the end, this book was deemed so offensive to china that Ma Jian was forced to leave and even now, almost 20 years later, he still finds it difficult to visit his home country.
So you may be surprised to hear that there’s nothing overtly offensive about this book. It’s very short but packed full of vivid descriptions of Tibetan culture. The story is simple, a Chinese man has separated from his wife and decides to travel through Tibet to meet people and hear stories. He recounts a selection of odd tales that include a woman who tries to steal gold from a monastery and ends up dying and hung like a dried out ornament outside the home of her lover and a man who lives in a tent alone and walking around a sacred mountain to gain forgiveness for sleeping with his daughter. The stories are raw and sometimes sickening. In particular, the recounting of a Tibetan sky burial which involves dismembering the corpse of a pregnant woman slice by slice and smashing her bones.
Ice skating at Somerset House with my partner. Well, I skated and he complained about his feet!
While these stories hardly sound endearing they’re nothing to ban a book over, especially not in 1997…unless you don’t recognise Tibet as a country in its own right with its own customs and culture separate to that of China. That’s the short answer to why this book cause such a stir but this is a book review and not an explanation of the ongoing issues of China and Tibet so I would suggest my copy of ‘Stick Out Your Tongue’ partially because, you know, it’s in English, but also because it contained extra information on the book and the political context that helps to set the scene.
The stories are all separated by chapter which makes this book an excellent choice for something very quick to dip in and out from but I can’t suggest it as ‘light reading’ because the subject matter was always so dark. The descriptions of the sky burial, the hermit’s explanation of abusing his daughter, the wind dried woman hung decoratively, it’s not exactly Christmassy is it? It was, however, interesting. There’s something about dipping into the stories of people in countries you rarely consider that force you to reconsider how you see the world. ‘Stick Out Your Tongue’ was beautifully written to hold your interest just long enough to get across the experiences of people who would otherwise slip away unnoticed.
There was only one story that didn’t seem to fit for me. A young boy trying to make his way back to his nomad family from school. While the story itself was very good, with its hallucinations and building worry that he would never find them, I couldn’t work out how we were hearing the story. Every other tale was told to the narrator by a person he had met along his journey or was experienced by the narrator himself. The boy was a story all his own in the middle of the text. I just found it a little jarring to be constantly looking out for the origin of that one tale.
P.S. A short book full of brief stories of Tibetan life but possibly more for those with a fairly strong stomach and an interest in the history of China and Tibetan politics.
This has to be the weirdest book I have read for this challenge. It’s also the only banned book I’ve read this year. I’m not normally the sort of person who says goes out of her way to read banned books but I wanted something totally different to anything I’d read this year and I certainly found it. ‘Stick Out Your Tongue’ was originally written by Ma Jian in Chinese and published in 1997. It was banned for “harming the fraternal solidarity of the national minorities,” but not only was this book banned, the ban covered all his future work too. Even that wasn’t the end, this book was deemed so offensive to china that Ma Jian was forced to leave and even now, almost 20 years later, he still finds it difficult to visit his home country.
So you may be surprised to hear that there’s nothing overtly offensive about this book. It’s very short but packed full of vivid descriptions of Tibetan culture. The story is simple, a Chinese man has separated from his wife and decides to travel through Tibet to meet people and hear stories. He recounts a selection of odd tales that include a woman who tries to steal gold from a monastery and ends up dying and hung like a dried out ornament outside the home of her lover and a man who lives in a tent alone and walking around a sacred mountain to gain forgiveness for sleeping with his daughter. The stories are raw and sometimes sickening. In particular, the recounting of a Tibetan sky burial which involves dismembering the corpse of a pregnant woman slice by slice and smashing her bones.
Ice skating at Somerset House with my partner. Well, I skated and he complained about his feet!
While these stories hardly sound endearing they’re nothing to ban a book over, especially not in 1997…unless you don’t recognise Tibet as a country in its own right with its own customs and culture separate to that of China. That’s the short answer to why this book cause such a stir but this is a book review and not an explanation of the ongoing issues of China and Tibet so I would suggest my copy of ‘Stick Out Your Tongue’ partially because, you know, it’s in English, but also because it contained extra information on the book and the political context that helps to set the scene.
The stories are all separated by chapter which makes this book an excellent choice for something very quick to dip in and out from but I can’t suggest it as ‘light reading’ because the subject matter was always so dark. The descriptions of the sky burial, the hermit’s explanation of abusing his daughter, the wind dried woman hung decoratively, it’s not exactly Christmassy is it? It was, however, interesting. There’s something about dipping into the stories of people in countries you rarely consider that force you to reconsider how you see the world. ‘Stick Out Your Tongue’ was beautifully written to hold your interest just long enough to get across the experiences of people who would otherwise slip away unnoticed.
There was only one story that didn’t seem to fit for me. A young boy trying to make his way back to his nomad family from school. While the story itself was very good, with its hallucinations and building worry that he would never find them, I couldn’t work out how we were hearing the story. Every other tale was told to the narrator by a person he had met along his journey or was experienced by the narrator himself. The boy was a story all his own in the middle of the text. I just found it a little jarring to be constantly looking out for the origin of that one tale.
P.S. A short book full of brief stories of Tibetan life but possibly more for those with a fairly strong stomach and an interest in the history of China and Tibetan politics.