| Quote #1 Yet he abandoned all to make a book and a labyrinth. He gave up all the pleasures of oppression, justice, of a well-stocked bed, of banquets, and even of erudition, and shut himself up in the Pavilion of the Limpid Sun for thirteen years. (36) |
Ah, the life of the writer. Everyone knows you have to suffer for your art.
| Quote #2 At his death, his heirs found only a mess of manuscripts. The family... wished to consign them to the fire, but the executor of the estate – a Taoist or a Buddhist monk – insisted on their publication. (36) |
What happens to literature after the author has died? Does it belong out in the world, for anyone to read, or do certain people – like family members – have the right to control it?
| Quote #3 "Such a publication was madness. The book is a shapeless mass of contradictory rough drafts... the hero dies in the third chapter, while in the fourth he is alive." (37) |
If you tried reading one of those old Choose Your Own Adventure novels from cover to cover, it wouldn't make a lot of sense. You can understand how Yu Tsun might have been confused – his great-grandfather's novel probably didn't have handy instructions printed clearly at the bottom of each page.