Hao Jingfang's tripart city, tearing itself apart to collapse and unfurl on itself, is the setting and also the namesake of her short story "Folding Beijing." As we follow Lao Dao, a man from the city's poorest sector, as he sneaks his way into the city's richer districts, Hao pushes us through the story from intense claustrophobia and sensory overstimulation into a sinister sense of serenity and calm built on the backs of the working class. Lao Dao moves from Third Space into the wealthier Second Space, and the jarring gap in the living styles and wages of those in poverty and the middle class illustrates just how severe the class divide is in Hao's Beijing. The people of First Space are clueless and insensitive, though not of malicious intent, and Lao Ge, the man he meets that had worked his way up from Third Space, is uncaring to the plight of those still trapped in poverty--outside from those he personally knows. The conversation Lao Dao overhears about a new development in machinery that could render his job obsolete creates a tension strikingly different than the one found in Xia Jia's short story "Tongtong's Summer," where innovations in healthcare technology foster opportunities for the elderly and connections between young and old. Tongtong's ailing grandfather experiences the growing pains commonly found in those of his age, with a body slowly shutting down and family with other obligations, with the desire to help the best they can but constricted by time and responsibilities. In the author's note, Xia dedicates the story to the elderly seen out living active and colorful lives, noting "that living with an awareness of the closeness of death is nothing to be afraid of." Tongtong's grandfather, grump and ailing, finds his passion and joy in life in spite of his age once more through a remotely controlled robot named Ah Fu. Tongtong develops a familial relationship with the man controlling Ah Fu, and through the robot, the grandfather is able to help people remotely, care for and interact with his friends, and flourishes in his old age rather than letting himself succumb to what so many elderly around the world do. Xia's world is one of codependence, where tech cannot be successful without human empathy and the quality of life is overall improved by the convenience that new machinery provides. Though the economic status of Tongtong's family is never implied, I do wonder which Space of Hao's Beijing they would exist in, and whether those of Third Space would be provided with technology as revolutionary as Ah Fu (I imagine the answer is resoundingly no).
I also wonder if the fact that I read these short stories after having read the translator, Ken Liu's, introduction changed my perception of them in any way. He asks us to consider the works as almost independent of their nationality, and given the tendency for readers to entirely interpret foreign literature within their stereotypes of the nation, this is an entirely reasonable request. Literature, however, does not exist in a vacuum, and as important it is to read all works as global works, it is undeniable that authors are influenced by local, as much as worldwide, politics and culture. To find moments and nuances unique to Chinese culture within these texts addressing broader, more general contemporary concerns was special to my reading experience--to be gently reminded that we are all human working through the same questions, but that we each have something different and valuable to contribute.
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