“Love in the New Millennium” by Can Xue (translated by Annelise Finegan Wasmoen).

This is a strange novel. “The place doesn’t feel solid, it’s like you—like you’re in a land of illusion!” The plot is filled with sex, murder, intrigue, and busybodies spying on other people’s lives. ““I have something to tell you. Wei Bo and I sleep together every night,” said the ghost of the man dead for many years.” It deals with contemporary China through the shield of allusion. There is an air of mystery in every word. “Your not understanding is understanding.” One is disoriented and doesn’t quite know where it is going next. It is a hard book to read. There is a sense that every word is essential. “Living in the caves would be so much better. You close to me, me close to you, listening to the sounds coming from the earth’s core. People grow discontent, they flatten mountains into the ground and run madly all over like weasels.”

The novel’s story mixes fantasy and reality into an odd tale that doesn’t quite make sense, but doesn’t ever seem too weird either. “His aunt sat in a corner drinking water from a jade brush pot, saying to him, “This is called ‘drinking ink.’ This is education.”” There are allegories wrapped within allegories. Clues are left on every page. “Here you plant things, but don’t hold out hope, it’s no use. You toss them into the soil and forget as soon as possible. We all do this. I used to think that seeds would grow into the plants they were harvested from, but it’s not that way at all. You can wait and see.” Nothing is at all obvious. ““All of the discussions use a method of allusion,” Little Green answered with utter seriousness. “We talk about the weather, about playing chess, about matters of national importance, when in fact our topic is the Gobi Desert. Teacher, do you understand?”” Lush dream sequences pull you in, before being jolted quickly back into whatever reality there is. “A Si pointed with her chopsticks at the salmon’s bones inside the large soup tureen. They saw its skeleton eaten bare of flesh moving around in the soup. It swam in three circles, then paused at the bottom of the tureen and remained still. The three women looked at each other in shock.” The reader is never on sure ground and is forced to struggle for the underlying truth. “Her songs aren’t about our past life, or about the emotional life of people today, but instead about the life we have never even imagined.”