BRIEF Review
our story by rao pingru
A Graphic Memoir
Penguin Randomhouse London were kind enough to send me an advanced review copy of Rao Pingru's graphic memoir, Our Story, which was published late last month. As a work of physical art, this book is utterly beautiful. As a piece of literature, perhaps not, but it at least raises interesting questions about the intersection between gender and storytelling, memory and history, love and loss. Rao Pingru's protagonist, inspiration and wife is the now-immortalised Mao Meitang, who passed away in 2008. As both a celebration of their love and an outlet for his grief, Rao Pingru recreated their life together in ink and paint. And yet, Rao Pingru seems unable to bleed between the pages of his memoir like some, mostly female, writers can and do.
June 4, 2018
History and memory are, of course, uncomfortable bedfellows; and memoir itself is a troubling genre. Rao Pingru and Mao Meitang saw China pass through some of its most difficult and dangerous decades, meeting on the eve of a revolution that would catapult the country and its people into modernity -- whether they were ready for it or not.
Standing with one foot in Old China, one stretched out towards an uncertain future, they would have to navigate not only the trials of love and loss, but the upheaval and terror of war, new statehood and China's shaking of the world.
I have read a lot of memoirs (both intentionally and unintentionally fictional) that chart the course of
chinese history from the last Emperor Puyi to the Cultural Revolution. But this is the first time that I've read such a memoir and noticed the complete absence of superfluous emotion. Rao Pingru guides us through some of the most dangerous and heartbreaking events in Chinese modern history with the plodding factuality of a professor explaining why war happens. There's judgement and perspective, but almost no emotive connection to the subjects themselves. It is as though he has simply ceased to be the character that he retrospectively writes about, and therefore spares no thought on how this man and woman might be feeling.
On an army march, deaths were a common occurrence, you just accepted it as the will of heaven, and made no fuss about it.
Our Story by Rao Pingru (2018)
I wonder if this stoicism and lack of emotion is a hangover from China's former patriarchal family structure, manifesting once more in this elderly man as he reflects upon what he sees as the inseparable history of his country and himself. I also wonder how much of this former repression of male emotions persists in our own societies, and how little we are doing to address it.
Part of me wonders if this is why Rao Pingru decided to express his love and grief through art, rather than mere words. His paintings are simultaneously colourful, vibrant even, and yet utterly mundane. They depict an entire life together, with more scenes dedicated to eating than anything else. Between his bold brushstrokes lives the woman who walked through this tumultuous century by his side. Her strength ("A last tear", page 313), her humour ("When women give birth", page 244), but most importantly her normality.
In his own way, Rao Pingru seems to have overcome the restrictive emotional breathing-space of a society that demands strong men and soft women. It might be difficult to discern between the perfect political position he takes, but I think it is there, somewhere.
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