What are Shi Tiesheng's main works?

What are Shi Tiesheng's main works and his famous works? Shi Tiesheng's main works:

Ditan and I, Missing in Autumn, My Far Away Qingpingwan, The Story of Jumping in the Queue, Notes on Retreat, Law Professors and Couples, Notes on My Old House, Grandma's Star, Coming to Earth, Acacia Tree, Broken Pen Due to Illness, Life as String, etc.

Among them, Ditan and I, my distant Qingpingwan and Albizia Albizia are particularly famous.

Good Luck Design Feng Chun Literature and Art Publishing House (first edition in March, 1995)

Notes on Retreat, published by Shanghai Literature and Art Publishing House (1996-2004)

My Far Away Qingpingwan Guangzhou Publishing House (200 1 published)

Past events: Shi Tiesheng's works, China Youth Publishing House (published in March, 20001).

The Story of Jumping the Queue, Shandong Literature and Art Publishing House (published 5438+0 in March 2006)

Albizia Albizia Tree Shandong Literature and Art Publishing House (published in March, 200 1)

Writing of Destiny, Shandong Literature and Art Publishing House (published 5438+0 in March 2006)

Collected Works of Shi Tiesheng People's Literature Publishing House (published in June 5438 +2005 10)

Prose Collection of China Publishing House (published on June 5438+ 10, 2005)

My Journey to Ding Yi People's Literature Publishing House (published in 65438+February 2005)

Pastor Zhan's Reportage: A People's Literature Publishing House with Drama Conception as the Stage Background (published on June 5438+ 10, 2006)

Interruption of Illness (Notes on Shi Tiesheng's Life) Shaanxi Normal University Press (published in March 2006)

Oriental Biology Publishing Center (published in April 2006)

Former Oriental Publishing Center (published in April 2006)

Written by Shi Tiesheng Oriental Publishing Center (published in April 2006)

Selected Works of Shi Tiesheng Hainan Publishing House (published in June 2006)

Retreat Notes: Masterpieces of Contemporary Famous Novels by China People's Literature Publishing House (published in June 5438 +2007 10).

Shi Tiesheng's Prose/Illustration Collected Edition People's Literature Publishing House (published in March 2007)

Letters and Problems: Prefaces to Shi Tiesheng's Letters, Huacheng Publishing House, Guangdong Publishing Group (published in June 5438 +2008 10).

I and Ditan People's Literature Publishing House (published in September 2008)

Life is like a String People's Literature Publishing House (published in September 2008)

Original Sin and Fate People's Literature Publishing House (published in September 2008)

People's Literature Publishing House (published in September 2008)

Selected novels by Shi Tiesheng People's Literature Publishing House (published in July 2009)

People's Literature Publishing House (published on June 20 10, 1 year)

The film of delusion People's Literature Publishing House (published on June 20 10)

Retreat notes >>

This book is one of the collections of short stories by Shi Tiesheng, a famous contemporary writer. The Story of Jumping in the Queue and My Distant Qingping Bay are both classic works of educated youth literature. With the method of chronological or anti-chronological, the author reproduces the living conditions and living conditions of some educated youth in the absurd specific political period, and reflects on the happiness and misfortune of life, thus showing the local customs of northern Shaanxi and the straightforward, tenacious and convenient character of northern Shaanxi people. The integration of pictures undoubtedly provides the most precious evidence for the classicality of the works, so it has attracted worldwide attention so far.

My trip to Ding Yi >>

This is a unique and intriguing modern love novel. Shi Tiesheng, a novelist and thinker, described love, sex and * * * with clean, beautiful, poetic and rational words, traced the origin of love, and explored the true meaning and significance of love. Those entanglements between spirit and flesh, the rehearsal of sex and love, those lonely touches and warm comforts, those soft stories and hard philosophies all give people reasonable experience and unexpected enlightenment.

Letters and questions >>

This is the correspondence between the famous writer Shi Tiesheng and his friends and readers over the years, as well as the preface and postscript of some writing. Never released an album. After the author personally screened and obtained the consent of the letter owner, * * * selected dozens of letters and nearly 20 prefaces. With the theme of literature, art and contemporary literature thinking, this book expresses Shi Tiesheng's thoughts on life and death, disability and love, suffering and faith, writing and art, and answers these common spiritual questions: how to live the meaning now. His work Generation shows justice and strength, and also brings inspiration and encouragement to readers.

Broken pen in disease space

As the most important achievement of China literature in 2002, Broken Pen from a Sick Gap, as always, pondered over such major issues as life and death, disability and love, suffering and faith, writing and art, and answered these common spiritual questions: how to be present and how to live out the meaning. When most writers gave up facing the basic situation of human beings in the era of consumerism, Shi Tiesheng lived in his own heart, still struggling to pursue the value and glory of human beings, still firmly marching into the desolate area of existence and resolutely fighting against the unknown. This courage and persistence have deeply aroused our vigilance and concern about our own situation.

Me and Ditan >>

I have mentioned an abandoned ancient garden in several novels, which is actually an altar. Many years ago, before the development of tourism, the garden was as barren as a wild field, and few people remembered it. Ditan is close to my home. Or my home is close to the Ditan. In a word, I have to think that this is fate. More than 400 years before I was born, Ditan was located there; Since my grandmother came to Beijing with her father when she was young, she has been living not far from it-she has moved several times in the past 50 years, but she always walks around it and gets closer and closer. I often think this question is doomed: it seems that this ancient garden has been waiting for me for more than 400 years.

biology

& gt living things >>

This is a collection of thoughts. Among contemporary writers in China, I'm afraid it's hard to find another person who loves metaphysics and is good at it like Shi Tiesheng. The so-called good at it is that he can extract those fragments that shine with thoughts from trivial things in reality, but at the same time he can express them beautifully, tactfully and attractively, which makes people unable to release them. This is a writer's life wisdom, not a boring philosophical monograph. Certainly not superficial cheap literature.

About writing.

This book contains most of Shi Tiesheng's literary thoughts. Writers often talk about literature better than scholars who specialize in literature, and sometimes even excite readers more than writers' own creations. A good writer is first of all a good reader, a good literary theorist and a literary historian. In this book, Shi Tiesheng shows us his rich literary knowledge and the writer's unique sensitivity.

& lt& lt> before;

Shi Tiesheng's life and main work "The Meaning of My Dance" Shi Tiesheng (195 1 year 1 month 4-201year1February 3 1 day) is a writer and essayist in China. 195 1 was born in Beijing. 1967 graduated from Tsinghua High School, 1969 went to Yan 'an to jump the queue. Returned to Beijing on 1972 due to paralysis of both legs. Later, he got nephropathy and uremia. He lives on dialysis three times a week. Later, he served as a member of the National Committee of the Chinese Writers Association, vice chairman of the Beijing Writers Association and vice chairman of the China Disabled Persons' Federation. Self-proclaimed occupation is illness, amateur writing. 20 10 12 3 1 died of sudden cerebral hemorrhage at 3: 46 am at the age of 59.

representative works

I am in the gap with Ditan, meditation notes and broken pens.

"My Dance" is one of the "excellent works in contemporary China", which is selected as the writer's growth background with the writer and hometown, the writer and his relatives, and the writer's childhood experience and educational experience. These works we choose all have the writer's unique growth experience and strong subjective emotional projection, from which readers can see how the writer grew up, or how he became what he is now, that is, the source of heroes. Such a set of books can not only reflect the spiritual source of the group of contemporary writers, but also show the customs of different regions. Illustration matches the writing style, which will surely present readers with a complete and wonderful archive of contemporary writers.

What are the main works of his boyhood? He's main works are manuscripts such as Hongmei Xianrui, Huangshan Waterfall, Diamond Sutra, etc. Lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case lower case.

What works did Shi Tiesheng write? Half an hour at noon today, I broke my pen in the gap and meditated on notes, memories and impressions.

Our corner, my distant Qingping Bay, the story of jumping the queue, life is like a string.

Once upon a time, on a winter night, the legend on the top of the mountain and grandma's stars.

& lt me and Ditan >>& lt& lt memories of temples >>& lt& lt Answer yourself >>& lt& lt Miss Autumn >>

& lt< Ideal Contemporary Literary Criticism >:>& lt& lt Four Talks on Writing >>& lt& lt Marriage >>& lt& lt Phantom of the Dead Country >>

What works of Shi Tiesheng are suitable for reading Qiu Si?

Shi Tiesheng

My temper became furious after my legs were paralyzed. Looking at the array, I will suddenly smash the glass in front of me; Listening to Li Guyi's sweet singing, I will slam what I have at hand on the surrounding walls. My mother hid out quietly and listened to my movements secretly where I couldn't see them. When everything was calm again, she came in quietly, her eyes were red and she looked at me. "I heard that the flowers in Beihai are in bloom, so I'll push you for a walk." She always said that. Mother likes flowers, but the flowers she helped plant have died since my leg was paralyzed. "No, I'm not going!" I gave these damn legs a good beating and shouted, "What's the point of my living!" " "My mother jumped on me, grabbed my hand, and fought back tears and said," Let's live together, let's live well … "But I never knew that her illness had reached that stage. Later, my sister told me that her liver often hurts and she can't sleep all night.

That day, I was sitting alone in the house, watching the leaves falling outside the window. Mother came in and stood at the window: "The chrysanthemums in Beihai are in bloom. I'll push you to have a look. " There was a pleading expression on her gaunt face. "When?" "Tomorrow, if you like?" She said. She was overjoyed by my answer. "Well, tomorrow." I said. She was so happy that she sat down for a while and stood up for a while: "Then you should get ready quickly." "Oh, don't bother? A few steps, what is there to prepare! " She smiled, sat down beside me and said, "After watching the chrysanthemums, let's go to imitation food. When you were a child, you liked pea yellow there. Remember that time I took you to Beihai? You said Yang Shuhua was a caterpillar, running around and squashing her feet ... "She suddenly stopped talking. Words like "run" and "walk". She is more sensitive than me. She went out quietly again.

She's out. Never came back.

She was still vomiting blood when the neighbors carried her to the car. I didn't expect her to be so ill. Watching the tricycle go away, I never thought it would be forever.

When the neighbor's boy went to see her behind my back, she was breathing hard, like her hard life. I was told that her last words before she passed out were: "My sick son and my underage daughter ..."

It's autumn again, and my sister pushes me to Beihai to see chrysanthemums. Yellow flowers are elegant, white flowers are noble, purple flowers are warm and deep, and the autumn wind is blooming brilliantly. I know what my mother didn't finish. So is my sister. We are together, we should live a good life. ...

four

Now let me see, who have been coming to this garden for fifteen years? It seems that it's just me and an old couple.

15 years ago, the old couple were only middle-aged couples, and I was a real young man. They always come for a walk in the garden at dusk. I'm not sure which door they came in from. Generally speaking, they walk around the garden counterclockwise. The man is very tall, with wide shoulders and long legs. He walks with his eyes open, above his hips until his neck is straight. His wife climbed his arm, but didn't let his upper body relax a little. Women are short and not beautiful. I have no reason to believe that she must come from a wealthy family with a poor family. She clung to her husband's arm like a delicate child. She always looks around in fear. She spoke softly to her husband, and when someone approached, she stopped timidly. I sometimes think of them because of Jean Valjean and Cosette, but this idea is not solid. They knew at a glance that it was an old couple. Both of them are well dressed, but due to the evolution of the times, their clothes can be called simple. Like me, they came to the garden almost rain or shine, but they were more punctual than me. I can come at any time, but they must come at dawn When it is windy, they wear beige trench coats, and when it rains, they wear black umbrellas. In summer, their shirts are white, their trousers are black or beige, and in winter, their wool coats are all black. Presumably they only like these three colors. They circled the garden counterclockwise and left. When they passed me, only men's footsteps sounded, and women seemed to stick to tall husbands and go with the flow. I'm sure they must remember me, but we didn't talk, and neither of us wanted to be near each other. Fifteen years later, they may have noticed that a young man has entered middle age, but I watched an enviable middle-aged couple unconsciously become two old people.

Once upon a time there was a young man who liked singing. He also came to this garden to sing every day for many years, and then he disappeared. His age is similar to mine. He usually comes in the morning and sings for half an hour or all morning. I guess he'll have to go to work another time. We often meet on the path east of the altar. I know he is singing under the high wall in the southeast corner. He must have guessed what I was doing in the Woods in the northeast corner. I found my place, smoked a few cigarettes and heard him carefully tidy up his voice. He sang so many songs over and over again. Before the Cultural Revolution, he sang "White clouds are floating in the blue sky, and horses are running under them ..." I always can't remember the name of this song. After the Cultural Revolution, he sang the most popular aria in Salesmen and Ladies. "Selling cloth-selling cloth, selling cloth-selling cloth!" I remember the first sentence he sang loudly. In the fresh morning air, vendors ran around the garden to pay their respects to the young lady. "I'm lucky, I'm lucky, I sing for happiness ..." Then he sang again and again, not to let the vendor's * * * decrease slightly. Personally, his technique is not perfect, and he often makes mistakes in key places, but his voice is not bad, and he can't hear any fatigue after singing all morning. The sun is not tired, so we huddle the shadows of trees and bask in the neglected earthworms on the path. Near noon, we met again on the east side of the altar. He gave me a look and I gave him a look. He went to the north and I went to the south. After a long time, I think we all have the desire to get to know each other, but we don't seem to know how to speak, so we look at each other, and then look away and pass by; It's happened so many times that I don't know how to say it. Finally, one day-a nondescript day-we nodded to each other. He said: Hello. "I said," Hello. " He said, "Go back?" I said, "Yes, and you?" He said, "I should go back too. "We all slowed down (actually I slowed down) and wanted to say a few more words, but we still didn't know where to start, so that we all passed each other and turned to face each other. He said, "Goodbye then." I said, "OK, bye." They smiled at each other and parted ways. But we never met again. Since then, there has been no singing in the garden. I thought that he might want to say goodbye to me that day. Maybe he was admitted to a professional art troupe or a song and dance troupe. I really hope he has made good luck, as he sang in the song.

There are others. I can think of some people who often come to this garden. There was an old man who was a real drinker; He has a flat porcelain bottle hanging around his waist. Of course, the bottle is full of wine, and he often comes to this garden to spend the afternoon. He strolled in the garden. If you don't pay attention, you will think there are several such old people in the garden. When you have seen his outstanding drinking, you will believe that this is a unique old man. His clothes are too casual and he walks carelessly. After walking fifty or sixty meters, he chose a place, put one foot on a stone bench or a ridge or a stump, and took off the bottle at his waist. When he took off the bottle, he carefully looked at the scenery from the perspective of 180 degrees with wide eyes, then poured a big mouthful of wine into his stomach in lightning speed, shook the bottle around his waist and thought calmly for a while. There is also a bird catcher. In those days, there were almost no people in the garden, but there were many birds. He pulled a net in the bushes in the northwest corner, and the bird hit it. His feathers were trapped in the net and could not extricate themselves. He only waited for a bird that was once rare in many ways, and when other birds went online, he picked them and let them go. He said that he had been waiting for the rare bird for many years. He said that he would wait for another year to see if there was such a bird, but he waited for many years. You can see a middle-aged female engineer in this garden sooner or later; In the morning, she goes to work through the garden from north to south, and in the evening, she goes home through the garden from south to north. Actually, I don't know her occupation and education, but I think she must be an intellectual studying science and engineering. It is difficult for others to be as simple and elegant as her. When she walked through the garden, the surrounding Woods were quieter, and there seemed to be distant piano music in the faint sunshine, such as the song "For Alice". I have never seen her husband, and I have never seen what that lucky man looks like. I have imagined it, but I can't imagine it. Then I suddenly realized that it was better not to imagine. That man had better not show up. She walked out of the north gate and went home. I'm a little worried that she will fall into the kitchen, but maybe the scene where she works in the kitchen has another beauty. Of course it can't be "dedicated to Alice". What is this? There is another person who is my friend. He was the most talented long-distance runner, but he was buried. He spent several years in prison for his careless remarks during the Cultural Revolution. After he came out, he finally found a job pulling carts, and everything was unequal to others. He was depressed enough to practice long-distance running. At that time, he always came to run in this garden, and I timed him with my watch. Every time he runs around greeting me, I write down a time. Every time he runs around the garden twenty times, about twenty thousand meters. He hopes to achieve real political liberation with his long-distance running achievements, and he thinks that the reporter's lens and words can help him do this. In the first year, he ran 15 in the Spring Festival Championship. He was confident when he saw the photos of the top ten hanging in the news window of Chang 'an Avenue. The next year, he ran fourth, but only the photos of the top three were hung in the news window. He was not discouraged. In the third year, he ran the seventh place and hung the photos of the top six in the window. He felt a little sorry for himself. In the fourth year, he ran third, but only the photo of the first place was hung in the window. In the fifth year, he ran the first place-he was almost desperate, and there was only a photo of the people around the city in the window. In those years, the two of us used to stay in this garden until it was dark, have a good scolding, go home silently after scolding, and then tell each other when we parted: don't die first, then try to live. Now he doesn't run. He is too old to run so fast. At the age of 38, he won the first place in the last city competition and broke the record. The coach of a professional team said to him, "I wish I had found you ten years ago." He gave a wry smile and said nothing. He only came to the garden at night and told me the story calmly. I haven't seen him for years, and now he lives far away with his wife and son.

These people don't come to the garden now, and the garden is almost completely different-a group of new people. Fifteen years ago, it was just me and the old couple. For a while, one of the old ladies suddenly didn't come. At dusk, only a man came for a walk, and his gait was obviously much slower. I was worried for a long time, afraid that something would happen to that woman. Fortunately, after a winter, the woman came again, and the two men still turned around the garden counterclockwise. A long and short figure is like two hands of a clock; The woman's hair is much whiter, but she still crawls on her husband's arm and walks like a child. The word "climbing" is not appropriate. Maybe we can use "mixed". I wonder if there is a word that has both meanings.

five

I haven't forgotten a child-a beautiful and unfortunate little girl. I saw her when I first came to this garden that afternoon fifteen years ago. At that time, she was about three years old, squatting on the path to the west of Zhan Mu Palace to pick up "little lanterns" falling from trees. There are several big pear trees there. In spring, clusters of tiny and dense yellow flowers bloom. When the flowers fall, countless small lanterns are produced, like three leaves stacked together. Small lanterns turn green first, then white, then yellow, and fall all over the ground when they are ripe. Small lanterns are exquisite and precious, and adults can't help but pick them up one after another. The little girl babbled and picked up a small lantern; Her voice is very good, not as shrill as a person of her age, but very round and even rich, perhaps because the garden was too quiet that afternoon. I wonder why such a small child came to this garden alone. I asked her where she lived. She casually pointed to it and called her brother. A boy of seven or eight years old stood in the grass by the wall. He looked at me and thought I didn't look like a bad person. He said to his sister, "I'm here" and bent down again. He is catching some bugs. He caught mantis, grasshopper, cicada and dragonfly to please his sister. For two or three years, I often saw them under those big pear trees, and my brothers and sisters always played together, playing in harmony and growing up. I haven't seen them for many years since then. I think they are all at school and the little girl is old enough to go to school. She must have bid farewell to her childhood and won't have many opportunities to play here. This is normal, there is no reason to take it too seriously. If I don't see them in the garden for one year, I will gradually forget them.

It was a Sunday morning. It was a sunny and heartbreaking morning. Many years later, I found that the beautiful little girl turned out to be a mentally retarded child. I rocked my car to those big Luan trees, which was the season when small lanterns were everywhere; At that time, I was suffering from the ending of a novel. I don't know why I gave it such an ending, and I don't know why I suddenly didn't want it to have such an ending. So I ran out of the house, trying to rely on the peace in the garden to see if I should give up the novel. As soon as I stopped the car, I saw a few people playing with a girl not far ahead, making strange gestures to scare her, shouting and laughing, chasing her and intercepting her. The girl ran around in horror to hide from some big trees, but she didn't let go of her skirt, her legs were bare, and she seemed unaware. I can see that the girl has some mental defects, but I haven't seen who she is yet. I was about to drive to clear the way for the girl, when I suddenly saw a young man riding a bike quickly in the distance, so all the guys playing with the girl ran away. The young man put his bike near the girl, stared at the scattered guys, panting and saying nothing. His face is as pale as the sky before the storm. At this moment, I recognized them. This young man and this young girl are little brothers and sisters. I almost exclaimed or wailed in my mind. Things in the world often make God's intentions suspicious. The young man walked towards his sister. The girl let go of her hand, her skirt hung down, and many small lanterns she picked up spilled all over the floor and scattered at her feet. She is still beautiful, but her eyes are dull and dull. She just looked at the scattered guys and looked at the farthest emptiness. It is impossible for her intelligence to understand the world, right? Under the big tree, the broken sunshine dotted it, and the wind blew small lanterns everywhere, as if there were countless small bells ringing silently. My brother helped my sister to the back seat of the bike and took her home without saying anything.

Silence is right. If God gave the little girl both beauty and mental retardation, it would be right to go home speechless.

Who can figure out the world? Many things in the world are unspeakable. You can complain about why God has brought so much suffering to this world, and you can also fight to eliminate all kinds of suffering and enjoy loftiness and pride for it. But if you think more, you will fall into deep confusion: If there is no suffering in the world, can the world still exist? If there is no stupidity, where is the glory of wisdom? If there is no ugliness and beauty, how can we maintain luck? Without meanness and meanness, how will kindness and nobility define themselves and become virtues? If there is no disability, will the voice become boring because of its platitudes? I often dream of completely eliminating disability in the world, but I believe that by then, patients will suffer the same pain instead of disabled people. If the disease can be completely eliminated, then the pain will be borne by people who are ugly, for example. Even if we can eliminate ugliness, ignorance and meanness, and all things and behaviors we don't like, all people are equally healthy, beautiful, intelligent and noble. What will happen? I'm afraid all the plays on the earth will come to an end. A world without difference will be a stagnant pool, a desert without feeling and fertility.

There always seems to be disagreement. It seems that we have to accept suffering-all human dramas need suffering, and existence itself needs suffering. Looks like God was right again.

So there is a most desperate conclusion waiting here: who will play those who suffer? Who will embody the happiness, pride and happiness in this world? It is unreasonable to leave things to chance.

As far as fate is concerned, don't talk about justice.

So, where is the road to redemption for all unfortunate fates?

If wisdom and understanding can lead us to the road of redemption, can all people get such wisdom and understanding?

I often think that ugly women make beautiful women. I often think that fools lead to wisdom. I often think that cowards set off heroes. I often think that all beings have become Buddhas.

six

If there is a garden god, he must have noticed it. I have been sitting in this garden for so many years, sometimes relaxed and happy, sometimes depressed, sometimes leisurely and sometimes embarrassed.