While Guo got the crown, you were tagged as a "bad boy", which does not carry a positive connotation in Chinese translation. I know you don't mind, but "rebel with no particular cause"? That's gotta hurt.
You don't understand. If you persuade 10 million people, especially youths, with subtly subversive arguments, you are still nothing. Yes, you even defended Sharon Stone. But to a correspondent bent on serious subjects, that could be another juvenile antic. But if you boil down everything to a slogan, which you shout or unfurl in a public place, now that's something the outside world can understand. Sure, foreign reporters have researchers and translators, but much of what you write is not translatable. It's the unsaid that makes you unique and keeps you from being "muzzled". Leung Man Tao called you "the future Lu Xun of China", but blatant that he was, Lu did not get across to foreign readers, even with super English translations.
This humiliation follows on the heels of Time's earliest coverage of you, in 2000, when you were lumped together with Wei Hui and Mian Mian, torchbearers of girlie lit mixed with libido. Had you known that, you'd been better off shifting to romance. All you needed to do was provide glossy photos and let the ghostwriter fill in the text. You could have sold more copies that way.
To earn respect from the overseas press, you have to present yourself as an activist or dissident. You have to sprinkle your conversations with words like "democracy", "human rights" and "the planet we live on". You have to put on a grave appearance when describing the tens of millions who are starving, preferably with tears in your eyes. And don't forget to mention the melting of icebergs and the suffering of polar bears. Before you know it, you'll pick up international awards as if they were fan letters.
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