Red Sorghum, by Mo Yan

Yan recently won the Nobel Prize for Literature, so our book club decided to read one of his books.  As it turned out, only two of the group (I was one) could actually force themselves to read more than 25 pages or so of Red Sorghum, the most available title.  Although I am glad I persevered, I hope I may never have to read about so many bodily fluids or parts or “stenches.”  The quarter of the book dealing with corpse-eating dogs, which the villagers in turn kill and eat, was particularly gruesome.  Not a book to read while eating lunch, believe me!  However, the writing is full of striking metaphors, not all of them disgusting, and the time in which it is set, 1930’s Communist China, is probably accurately portrayed in all of its horror.  Red sorghum, the crop upon which the peasantry relies for food, wine, and even shelter, becomes a metaphor for the strength of the rural people who live in Northeast Gaomi Township (the author's hometown).  Beset on all sides by bandits, warring gangs, and the Japanese invaders, life is beyond “hard.”  The storytelling is non-linear, which can be confusing sometimes, and has aspects of myth and legend that resemble magical realism.  It is a book I will not easily forget. 352 pp.