Wang: Ling Feng, a person who surprised me
Flower cow red recommended
Original Gleaning Cornfield Gleaning Cornfield 1 week ago
"White Clouds" sequence
Wang
More than ten years ago, Ling Feng followed his master to work in Wen County. One day, taking a nap in the factory, the master screamed and woke everyone up from the dream. Everyone asked what was wrong, and the master said that he had just had a nightmare, and a woman in a shawl came in the window, carrying a chain in her hand, and put it around his neck, pulling him out. A worker said that it was a female ghost sent by the king of Yama, and that you had come to arrest you. The master said to the worker, "Yama told me to go, and I will take you with me." Everyone laughed for a while, and they didn't take the dream seriously. At dusk, they cool off by the Bailong River. Seeing many people swimming lively in the Bailong River, Master Fu and the co-worker jumped in one after another, and never came out again...
The story Ling Feng told was bizarre, and when I asked about its authenticity, he said it was indeed true. At that moment, I felt that he was a man with a story.
Before he was twelve, carefree and living the life of a little prince. He had four older sisters in front of him, the only boy in the family, and both parents and sisters took him seriously. Mother loved flowers, and a field in front of her house was full of flowers; when the flowers were in full bloom, half the village was fragrant. Mothers also love to be clean, chickens are kept in chicken coops, the yard is often cleaned, can be cold food. My father was a rural private teacher with several boxes of books at home. Every summer, he would help his father dry his books. Looking at the courtyard full of books in the sun, smelling the mixed fragrance of ink and flowers, and listening to his father tell the story in the book, his heart was drunk. There are books at home, there are many stories in the stomach, and he will hum a few words of Qin, and he feels that he can do better than other children in the village, and he is as proud as a rooster that can wake up the sun.
When he was twelve, his mother was carrying water, and she accidentally fell and fell into hemiplegia. He felt that the sky was low, and walking would hurt his forehead. My father was busy with teaching and farm work, and he couldn't cook, so he learned to do it, and he didn't have long to roll noodles, spread rice, and cook bread. In the evening, after feeding his mother, he looked at the distant mountains that gradually fell into the night, and his heart could not help but breed infinite sorrow. To understand the panic, he learned to play the flute. The sound of the flute like running water did not expect to make the mother lying on the hospital bed intoxicated, and her face was peaceful and happy. So, every day when he came back from school and waited for his mother to finish eating, he would play the flute. The melodious flute floated in the air, not only the mother, but also the whole village was fascinated.
One snowy day, a woman in the village had an acute illness, carried a stretcher tied with logs, and on the way to the hospital, he carried the liquid for her, and carefully carried it like a lantern of life. Almost to the top of the beam, the wind and snow are getting bigger and bigger, the slope is getting steeper and steeper, tired and sweaty, but the liquid he is carrying in his hand is frozen...
After graduating from junior high school, although he was admitted to high school with excellent grades, he went to a part-time job path in order to lift his family out of poverty. He traveled south and north, suffered a lot of hardships and humiliations, and his experience was no less rich than that of Shen Congwen, who had been a soldier, and Jack London, who had been a pirate. Although he was a low-level migrant worker, he did not lose the romance of a poet. At the age of twenty, he fell in love with a beautiful girl, but the girl's parents saw that his home was a mess and were reluctant to live or die. The girl had only been reading for a year, she couldn't read a few words, and she couldn't read the love letters he wrote, so he thought of a way to record all the words he wanted to say on the tape and give it to her. Sending dozens of tapes impressed her, she eventually married him despite her parents' objections. His marriage proposal process is far more tortuous than the plot in "The Tale of the West Chamber". He was less than forty years old, and intercepting any part of his years was a thick book.
Since childhood, he has been a man who loves words. From elementary school to junior high school, essays are model essays in the class. Later, when I was working, I did not forget to write an essay, so I sent the composition I wrote to the Language teacher of the year and asked him to revise it. He was in awe of words, and never dared to be a writer, who in his eyes was a god on earth. But deep inside his heart there was always an urge to turn his life experience into words. Once, with unquenchable passion, he wrote a novel "Life and Death Liang", which was posted on the WeChat platform, and he did not expect to cry countless pairs of eyes. Since then, he has been working on novels like crops. After working, as soon as I have time, I either read or sit in front of the computer and write like crazy. He has a lot of strength on his body, and his writing is almost desperate, which makes me look a little afraid. In three years, he wrote nearly a million-word novels, which is the sum of the words I have written in more than thirty years. Crazy, almost became a "mob" in writing.
The stories in his novels are wonderful and vivid, and very engaging. Many of his novels, I read in one sitting. Most of the protagonists in the novel are based on the people around him. His concept of novel is very clear, that is, to speak for the people around him. "Boudoir", written about the story of direct sales, the plot is twists and turns, very readable, and what is more valuable is not to simply deal with Du Yuming, who brought disaster to everyone, but to count his crimes at the same time, but also to write out the highlights of his humanity has not been completely extinguished. The father in "Father's Play" is a door-to-door son-in-law, who has no status in the family and lives more humble than dust, but he likes drama and looks for the dignity of life in the play. Unexpectedly, in an act, the father had a cerebral hemorrhage, and before dying, he said to his daughter: "I have loved the drama all my life, and I have always wanted to buy a black python robe for myself, but my father has no money, and he is reluctant to spend money, last year I bought one in Shaanxi, it is a bargain, after I die, you remember to put it on for me..." Reading this, I can't help but burst into tears.
Ling Feng's novels are filled with the wind of the mountains and wilderness, natural and fresh. His novels are life-made, not hard-made. Although some places seem rough, they are real and still touching. Unlike some famous artists, the novel is written very exquisitely, and the characters in the novel are exquisite like robots, although they act, but lack vitality, and only admire the techniques of people after reading, and will not leave any people moving. And Ling Feng's novel is a watermelon cut with a knife, whether it is beautiful or not, but the melon is red and fresh, and it will drool when it looks.
Language is the skin of a writer. Although Ling Feng only graduated from junior high school, his language is not rustic, very flexible, a bit of Shen Congwen's taste, especially when depicting rural scenes. Nature gives us nature, books give us knowledge, and if a writer only has knowledge left, his works will lack the stroke of God. Where the article shines brightly, it must be by nature. Ling Feng's language, permeated with a rare nature, is the artistic feeling that nature has given him, which is worth cherishing.
Ling Feng's novels are fluent and readable, and because of this, they also expose their flaws. Novels, sometimes more bulky, to let a large number of trivial and enlarged details envelop the reader, to prevent them from reading smoothly, it is best to let them read a sweat, climb to the top of the mountain, look into the distance, and say "it is a cool autumn.".
A junior high school graduate, in just three years, the novel is on the road, which really surprises me!
July 8, 2020
About the Author
Wang Miao is the president of the Tianshui Art Research Institute and the editor-in-chief of Tianshui Literature. He has published more than 100 poems in October, Feitian, Beijing Literature, Selected Poems, etc. The novel "Snow Dream" was launched by October and won the Third Yellow River Literature Award; the long poem "Genesis" won the second "Feitian" Ten-Year Literary Award; and the essay "Poet Hometown" won the first prize of the National Sun Li Prose Award.
Self-portraits
Although the hair is curly, the heart is straight. The left eye reads the world, and the right eye seeks poetry. The tongue, occasionally running out of the teeth, says something strange. Cherish money as a sibling, and regard close friends as liver and gallbladder. Gentleman's temperament is not much, there are three points, and the rest is all donkey temper. Bones, although worn by the years, can also make a needle and light up the heart lamp.