As Ma Xianglin sang, Li Sanren saw his fate in the red sesame dots plastered on his arm the grunting of a pig made Zhao Xiuqin quiver at thought of the animal feasting on her last rice bag. As Ma Xianglin sang, the bright-red bridal jacket matched wits with Lingling’s cheeks as they blushed to Ding Liang’s flirty stares. The bones shivered in the starry night while the robust voice of Ma Xianglin danced to the tunes of the fiddle the smell of stale blood fading in the stench of a blood merchant. The bow moved horizontally gently tickling the erhu, the melody of a folk song lingered amongst the chilly air as it fleeted through several blank stares, hopeful hearts and frail bodies. Anger and passion are the soul of my work.' Yan Lianke When I think of people's situation there, it is impossible not to feel angry and emotional. All my relatives live in Henan, one of the poorest areas of China. Narrated by a dead boy and written in finely crafted, affecting prose, the novel presents a powerful absurdist allegory of the moral vacuum at the heart of Communist-capitalist China as it traces the life and death of an entire community. The Dream of Ding Village focuses on one village, and the story of one family, torn apart when one son rises to the top of the Party pile as he exploits the situation, while another is infected and dies. Whole villages were wiped out in this way, with no responsibility taken or reparation made. Here, China's most controversial novelist takes as his subject the contemporary AIDS blood-contamination scandal in Henan province, where villagers were coerced into selling vast quantities of blood and then infected with the AIDS virus as they were injected with plasma to prevent anaemia.
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