三十年後重读牛虻 (The Gadfly)

The first time I read 牛虻(The Gadfly) was in the winter of 1977. 

My father reconnected with my grandfather after twenty years of no communication. At that time, Grandparents and four of their six kids have immigrated to the United States. Grandpa asked us to go to Shanghai to meet with one of my uncles. This is the uncle that Dad’s younger sister married to and was doing “big” business in China. It took us three days and four nights horrible train ride to get to Shanghai from HeiLongJiang. The train was packed with travelers that we had no place to sit except in the passage way. Since it was so packed, we could not get any food or water except purchasing some from the train station vendors through the window. We literally had to step over people’s shoulders to go to the toilet. Since it is hard to get to the toilet, I believe that some passengers found other means to relieve themselves because the train smelled of urine mixed with cigarette smoke all the way. 

We stayed with my father’s aunt, whom we call as “婆婆”, eagerly awaiting the uncle’s arrival. However, the waiting time turned from days to weeks; and from weeks to months. In order to keep four young kids occupied, 婆婆dug out some books for us to read. 牛虻 (The Gadfly) was one of them and the most memorable one for me. I can still visualize the teenage me sitting on the bed in one of the亭子間 (a typical studio room in Shanghai), bending over with tears streaming down, crying nonstop over the hero and heroine’s unspoken love, and the hero’s heroic action fighting for the cause that he believed in.

 

Summer 2009, when in Beijing, my kids and I were visiting a bookstore in王府井, I spotted牛虻(The Gadfly) on the shelf. This was the first time that I came to know the English title for牛虻:The Gadfly. Seeing the book brought back flood of fond memories. I bought it along with other classics that I have not read. And I am surprised that my eyes still welled up when reading the book the second time after more than thirty years.

 

I cringed at how Arthur, the innocent, sweet, and trusting boy, lost his innocence and faith at the tender age and wondered how fragile the human bond/faith can be; I felt helpless when Gemma had to live with the suspicion whether the Gadfly was the Arthur that she had known since childhood and whom was assumed drowned a long time ago. And the Gadfly, who returned to Italy with many years of suffering and physical wounds, worked along Gemma and was torn whether to tell Gemma his real identity; I cried when the Gadfly, stricken with the deadliest blow of his sickness, still strive to escape from the prison with his iron will; I cried the hardest, choking with emotions that I thought I was mature enough to control, when Gemma, reading the Gadfly’s last letter, got the confirmation that the Gadfly was indeed her long lost friend and the chance that she lost forever to redeem herself.

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