Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Lu Xun
Lu Xun (1881-1936) is regarded as the father of modern Chinese literature. Coming
from humble origins in the nearby city of Shaoxing, he gave up a promising career in
medicine to write topics with the intention, he claimed, of curing the social ills of the
nation. He used the demotic of the day, eschewing the sophisticated and obscure
language of the literati so that ordinary people could read his topics. His stories are
short and punchy, something that can't be said about all Chinese classics.
Lu Xun's first significant work was Diary of a Madman, published in 1918. Taking its
name from Gogol's short story of the same name, it was a satire of Confucian society.
Three years later followed his most appealing and accessible book, The True Story
of Ah Q, a tragicomic tale of a peasant who stumbles from disaster to disaster and
justifies each to himself as a triumph - an allegory for the Confucian state. Ah Q ends
up taking up the cause of revolution and is executed, as ignorant at the end as he
was at the beginning.
Lu Xun's writing earned him the wrath of the ruling Guomindang and in 1926 he
took refuge in Shanghai's International Settlement. The last ten years of his life were
spent in his simple quarters in Hongkou. Since his death, the fact that he never
joined the Communist Party has not stopped them from glorifying him as an icon of
the Revolution.
Go back to the southern end of the street where it makes a right angle, and
you'll find another stretch of curio shops. The weekend
street market
here is
something of an oddity, catering to the Chinese hobbyist's appreciation for
oddly shaped or coloured rocks. The stalls sell more pebbles and crystals than (it
is safe to say) a person could possibly need. Some of the stallholders are grizzly
types from Xinjiang in China's far northwest who profess bafflement at being
able to charge good money for stones but aren't going to knock it. Pebbles
valued for their colours are best viewed in a bowl of water - apparently all to
do with balance, shape and harmony.
For rarefied aesthetic judgements of a different (but often equally obscure)
nature, head 200m down to the
Duolun Museum of Modern Art
, an
unattractive seven-storey monolith that broods at the end of the street (daily
except Mon 10am-6pm; ¥10;
www.duolunart.com). This is China's first
state-run contemporary art museum - and that oxymoron alone should tell
you that it was bound to run into trouble. After a couple of shows that the
authorities deemed offensive, the gallery staff resigned en masse and were
replaced by a more pliant crew. You won't see anything with a hint of the
political here, and the privately run MoCA (see p.62) and Zendai (see p.92)
are both rather better, but the place does pull in some big-name shows. Artists
in residence have studios on the fifth floor, and visitors are welcome to come
and chat. There's a good, if pricey bookshop and a schedule of performances
and lectures.
W
Lu Xun Park and around
Lu Xun Park
(daily 6am-7pm) is one of the best places for observing Shang-
hainese at their most leisured. Between 6 and 8am, the masses undergo their
daily
tai ji
workout, while later in the day, amorous couples frolic on paddle
95
i
boats in the park lagoon and old men teach their grandkids how to fly kites.
