Full text of Mo Yan's acceptance speech

Mo Yan's acceptance speech (full text) Mo Yan's most famous TV series "Red Sorghum" is deeply loved by many book fans. 20 12 mo Yan became the first China-born writer to win the Nobel Prize in Literature. The following is Mo Yan's acceptance speech. Welcome to learn! Dear members of the Swedish Academy, ladies and gentlemen, through TV or the Internet, I think all of you here have learned more or less about Gaomi, a distant northeast town. You may have met my 90-year-old father, my brothers and sisters, my wife and daughter, and my granddaughter who is one year and four months old. But there is one person I miss most at the moment, my mother, and you will never see her. After I won the prize, many people shared my glory, but my mother couldn't. My mother was born in 1922 and died in 1994. Her ashes are buried in the Taoyuan in the east of the village. Last year, a railway crossed there, so we had to move her grave farther from the village. According to the tomb, we saw that the coffin had rotted and the mother's bones had been mixed with the soil. We had to symbolically dig some dirt and move to a new grave, that is, from that moment on, I felt that my mother was a part of the earth, and what I said when I stood on the earth was what I said to my mother. I am my mother's youngest child. The earliest thing I remember is carrying the only thermos bottle at home to the canteen to boil water. I accidentally broke the thermos bottle because of hunger. I was so scared that I got into the haystack and dared not come out for a day. At night, I heard my mother calling my birth name. I came out of the haystack and thought I would be beaten and scolded, but my mother didn't beat me or scold me. She just stroked my head and let out a long sigh. The most painful thing in my memory is to follow my mother to pick up the ears of wheat in the collective field. The guards in the wheat field came and the gleaners fled. My mother was caught because she had small feet and couldn't run fast. What about the tall manager? Gave her a slap in the face. She shook and fell to the ground. The keeper confiscated the ears of wheat we picked up and whistled away. My mother sat on the ground with blood in her mouth. I will never forget the expression of despair on her face. Many years later, when the man guarding the wheat field turned into a white-haired old man and met me at the market, I rushed to get back at him. My mother grabbed me and said calmly, "Son, the man who hit me was not alone with this old man." What I remember most is that at noon on a Mid-Autumn Festival, our family rarely had a jiaozi, and everyone only had one bowl. While we were eating jiaozi, an old beggar came to our door. I picked up half a bowl of dried sweet potatoes and sent him away, but he said angrily, "I am an old man." You eat jiaozi, but you let me eat dried sweet potatoes. How long is your heart? " I said angrily, "We can't eat jiaozi several times a year. We can't even give everyone a half-full bowl! Just give you dried sweet potatoes. If you want it, you have to, or you have to leave! " Mother scolded me, then took her half bowl of jiaozi and poured it into the old man's bowl. One thing I regret most is that I sold cabbage with my mother and intentionally or unintentionally overcharged an old man who bought cabbage by a dime. I finished calculating the money and went to school. When I came home from school, I saw my mother, who seldom cried at ordinary times, burst into tears. My mother didn't scold me, but whispered, "Son, you embarrassed my mother." When I was a teenager, my mother suffered from severe lung disease. Hunger, illness and fatigue left our family in trouble and could not see the light and hope. I have a strong feeling that my mother will commit suicide at any moment. Whenever I come back from work and enter the gate, I call my mother. Hearing her response, I felt a stone fall to the ground. If I don't hear from her for a while, I will be frightened and run to the kitchen and the mill to find it. Once, I searched all the rooms, but I didn't see my mother. I sat in the yard and cried. At this moment, my mother came in from the outside and carried a bundle of firewood. She is not satisfied with my crying, but I can't tell her my worry. Mother read my mind and said, "Don't worry, son, although I live a boring life, I won't go as long as the devil doesn't call me." I was born ugly. Many people in the village laughed at me face to face, and several students at school even beat me for it. I went home and cried. My mother said to me, "Son, you are not ugly. Your nose and eyes are not lacking, and your limbs are sound. Where is the ugliness? Moreover, as long as you are kind and do more good deeds, even if you are ugly, you can become beautiful. " Later, I went to town, and some well-educated people even mocked my appearance behind my back. I remembered my mother's words and calmly apologized to them. My mother can't read, but she has great respect for people who can read. Life in our family is difficult. We often have to eat every meal, but as long as I let her buy books and stationery, she will always satisfy me. She is a hard worker and hates lazy children, but she never criticizes me as long as I miss my work because of studying. Once, a storyteller came to the market. I secretly went to listen to the book and forgot the homework she assigned me. My mother criticized me for this. In the evening, when she was making cotton-padded clothes for her family with a small oil lamp, I couldn't help repeating the story I heard from the scholar during the day. At first, she was a little impatient, because in her mind, storytellers are glib and unprofessional people, and nothing good can be said from their mouths. But the story I repeated gradually attracted her. After every party day, she stopped giving me homework and acquiesced in my listening to books. In order to repay my mother's kindness and show off my memory, I will tell her vividly the stories I heard during the day. Soon, I was not satisfied with retelling the story told by the storyteller. In the process of retelling, I constantly polish it. I will do what my mother likes, make up some plots, and sometimes even change the ending of the story. My audience, not only my mother, but also my sister, my aunt and my grandmother have become my audience. After listening to my story, my mother is sometimes very worried, as if telling me or talking to herself: "Son, what kind of person will you be when you grow up?" Do you have to eat to play loquacious? "I understand my mother's concern, because in the village, a loquacious child is very boring, and sometimes it will bring trouble to himself and his family. The child I wrote in the novel "Niu" who was hated by the villagers because of his words has the shadow of my childhood. My mother often reminds me to talk less. She wants me to be a quiet, steady and generous child. But in my body, I showed a strong ability to speak and a great desire to speak, which is undoubtedly a great danger, but my ability to tell stories brought her pleasure and plunged her into deep contradictions. As the saying goes, "A leopard cannot change his spots. "Despite my parents' inculcation, I still haven't changed my nature of liking to talk, which makes my name' Mo Yan' like a satire on myself. I dropped out of primary school before I graduated. Because I am too young and weak to do heavy work, I have to go to the grassland to graze cattle and sheep. When I passed the school gate with cattle and sheep and saw my former classmates fighting on campus, my heart was full of sadness and I deeply realized the pain of a person even a child after leaving the group. On the desert beach, I let the cattle and sheep go and let them eat grass by themselves. The blue sky is like the sea and the grass is endless. There is no figure around, no sound, only birds singing in the sky. I feel lonely, lonely and empty inside. Sometimes, I lie on the grass and look at the lazy white clouds floating in the sky, and many inexplicable fantasies emerge in my mind. There are many stories where foxes become beautiful women. I fantasized that a fox could become a beautiful woman to accompany me to herd cattle, but she never appeared. But once, a lux fox jumped out of the grass in front of me, and I was scared and squatted on the ground. The fox ran away, and I was still shivering there. Sometimes I will squat down beside the cow and look at those blue eyes and my reflection in the cow's eyes. Sometimes I try to talk to birds in the sky by imitating their songs, and sometimes I pour out my heart to a tree. But the birds ignored me and the trees ignored me. Many years later, when I became a novelist, many fantasies of that year were written into novels by me. Many people praise me for my rich imagination, and some literary lovers hope that I can tell them the secret of cultivating imagination. I can only smile bitterly about this. As the sage Lao Zi of China said, "Misfortunes depend on each other, and misfortune comes out of his mouth." I dropped out of school in my childhood, suffered from hunger, loneliness and no books to read, but like our predecessor Shen Congwen, I started reading this big book of social life early. The above-mentioned going to the market and listening to the stories told by scholars are just one page in this big book. After dropping out of school, I hung out with adults and started a long career of "reading with my ears". More than 200 years ago, there was a great storytelling genius Pu Songling in my hometown. Many people in our village, including me, are his descendants. In the fields of collective labor, in the cowshed and stable of the production team, on the hot kang of grandparents, and even on the rickety ox cart, I heard many ghost stories, historical legends and anecdotes. These stories are closely related to the local natural environment and family history, which gives me a strong sense of reality. I never dreamed that these things would become my writing materials one day. I was just a child obsessed with stories, fascinated by people's stories. At that time, I was an absolute theist. I believe that everything is spiritual. When I see a big tree, I will feel awe. When I see a bird, I think it will become an adult bird at any time. When you meet a stranger, you will also suspect that it is an animal. Whenever I come home from the workshop of the production team at night, endless fear surrounds me. For courage, I sang loudly while running. At that time, I was in a voice change period, my voice was hoarse and my tone was ugly. My singing is a kind of torture to my villagers. I have lived in my hometown for twenty-one years, during which I went to Qingdao, the farthest from home, by train, and almost got lost in the huge timber in the timber factory, so that when my mother asked me what scenery I saw when I went to Qingdao, I told her in dismay: I saw nothing but piles of timber. But it was this trip to Qingdao that gave me a strong desire to leave my hometown and see the outside world. 1February, 976, I enlisted in the army, and sold wedding jewelry behind my mother's back to help me buy four compendiums of China's general history. I walked out of Gaomi Northeast Township, a place I love and hate, and started an important period of my life. I must admit that without the great development and progress of China society in the past 30 years and the reform and opening up, there would be no writer like me. In the boring military camp life, I ushered in the ideological emancipation and literary upsurge in the 1980s. I started telling stories with a pen from a child who listened to stories with his ears and told stories with his mouth. At first, the road was not smooth, and I didn't realize that my rural life experience of more than 20 years was a rich literary mine. At that time, I thought that literature was about writing good deeds and heroic models, so although several works were published, the literary value was very low.