THE REMAINS OF THE DAY By KAZUO ISHIGURO

 

" It is quite possible, then, that my employer fully expects me to respond to his bantering in a like manner, and considers my failure to do so a form of negligence…" page 16

"My father, as I say, came of a generation mercifully free of such confusions of our professional values." page 35

" Let me now posit this: "dignity" has to do crucially with a butler's ability not to abandon the professional being he inhabits. lesser butlers will abandon their professional being for the private one at the least provocation." page 42

"But let me say immediately I do not have Miss Kenton in mind at all when I say this. Of course, she too eventually left my stuff to get married, but I can vouch that during the time she worked as a housekeeper under me, she was nothing less than dedicated and never allowed her priorities to be distracted." page 51

I have waited at table every day for the last fifty-four years, my father remarked, his voice perfectly unhurried. page 65

"Miss Kenton, I am surprised to find you reaching in this matter. Surely. I don't have to remind you that our professional duty is not to our own foribles and sentiments, but to the wishes of our employer." page 149

"Do you realize how much it would have helped to me?Why, Mr. Stevens, why, why?Why do you always have to pretend?" Page 153-4

Of course, any butler who regards his vocation with pride, any butler who aspires at all to a 'dignity in keeping with his position, as the Hayes Society once put it, should never allow himself to be ' off duty' in the presence of others. page 169

" I'm not talking politics. I'm just saying, that's all. You can't have dignity if you are a slave. But every Englishman can grasp it if only he cares. Because we fought for that right." page 186

I am the butler of Darlington Hall near oxford. page 207

The fact is, events of global significance are taking place in this house at this very morning. page 218

I had, after all, just come through an extremely trying evening, throughout which I had managed to preserve a ' dignity in keeping with my position'. page 227

" The rest of my life stretches out like an emptiness before me." page 236

"Well, whatever awaits me, Mrs. Bean. I know I'm not awaited by emptiness. If only I were. But oh no, there's work, work and more work. " page 237

" ... and one day I realized I loved my husband. You spend so much time with someone, you find you get used to him." page 239

"The evening's the best part of the day. You’ve done your day's work. Now you can put your feet up and enjoy it. That's how I look at it. Ask nobody, they'll  all tell you. The everything's the best part of the day." page 244

"What is the point of worrying oneself too much about what one could or could not have done to control the course one’s life took? Surely it is enough that the likes of you and I at least try to make our small contribution count for something true and worthy." page 244

 

CHRONICLES VOLUME ONE 

by BOB DYLAN ( Robert Allen Zimmerman )

kränək(ə)l

"John Hammond, who had brought me to the Columbia Records, had taken me over to see Lou Levy, asked him to look after me. but he had a premonition that there would be more." Page 4

"It was years before the Beatles,  the Who or the Rolling Stones would breathe new life and excitement into it." page 6

"In American history class, we were taught that commies couldn't destroy American with guns or bombs alone, that they would have to destroy the Constitution -the document that this country was founded upon." page 30

“It was said that world war two spelled the end of Age of Enlightenment, but I wouldn't have known it. I was stillin in it. Somehow, I could still remember and feel the right of something about it.I'd read that stuff. Voltaire, Rousseau, John Locke, Montesquieu,  Martin Luther-visionaries, revolutionaries... It was like I know those guys, like they'd been living in my backyard.” Page 30

"If you told the truth, that was all well and good and if you told the un-truth, well, that's still well, and good. Folk songs had taught me that." page35

“Some early archaic period where society grows and develops and thrives, then some classical period where the society reaches its maturation point and then a slacking off period where decadence makes things fall apart. I had no idea which one of these Stages Americawes in.” page 36

" ...Those were my favorites[book], but that was before I discovered the folksingers. The folksingers could sing songs like an entire book, but only in a few verses. It's hard to describe what makes  a character or an event folk song worthy. It probably has something to do with a character being fair and honest and open. Bravery in an abstract way." page39

“what was the future? The future was a solid wall, not promising, not threatening - all bunk. No guarantees of anything, not even the guarantee that life isn't one big Joke.” Page 49

" I can't say when it occurred to me to write my own songs...I was singing to define the way I felt about the world. 

…I guess it happens to you by degrees." page 51

"Protest songs are difficult to write without making them come off as preachy and one- dimensional. You have to show people inside of themselves that they don't know is there." page 54

"...Folk songs are eva-the truth about life, and life is more or less a lie, but hen again that's exactly the way we want it to be. We wouldn't be comfortable with it any other way. A folk song as over a thousand faces and you must meet them all if you want to play this stuff. A folk son song might vary in meaning d it might not appear the same from one moment to the xt. It depends on who's playing and who's listening." page 71

" Chloe knew that I was trying to get places." Maybe someday your name will get around the country like wildfire," She'd say." Page 103

“The future was nothing to worry about. It was awfully close.” Page 104

“Being born and raised in America, the country of freedom and independence, I had always cherished the values and ideas of equality and liberty. I was determined to raise my children with those ideas.” page 115

"Musicians have always know that my songs were about more than just words but most people annave not musicians." page 119

" The first thing that has to go is any form of artistic self-expression that's dear to you. Art is unimportant next to life, and you have no choice. I had no hunger for it anymore, anyway." page 121

"Even the russian newspaper pravda had called me a money hungry capitalist." page 133

"I'm in the bottomless pit of cultural oblivion. You name it. I can't shake it. Stepping out of the woods, people see me coming. I knew what they were thinking. I have to take things for what they were worth." Page 148

for example, ... "The entire song came to me all at once; I don't know what could have brought it on.Maybe seeing the homeless guy, the dog, the cops, ..." page 167

“I started and completed the song "Dignity" the same day. I'd heard the sad news about pistol petty. (Peter Press Maravich, nicknamed "Pistol Pete").page 169

“In New orleans you could almost See other dimensions.” Page 181

"New orleans had the best radio stations in the world." page 188

"Human dynamics plays too big a part, and getting what you want isn't always the most important thing in life anyway." page 218

"folk music was all I needed to exist." page 236

“Pankake was right. Elliott ( Ramblin’ Jack Elliott) was far beyond me.” page 251

Ramblin’ Jack Elliott ( Pankake said sometimes earlier, like  Jack being the king of the folksingers... page 252)

“The "Queen of the folksingers, " that would have to be Joan Baez.” page 254

“It was a strange world ahead that would unfold, a thunderhead of the world with jagging lightning adges. Many got it wrong and never did get it right. I went straight into it. It was  wide open. One thing for sure, not only was it not run by God, but it wasn't run by the devil either.” page 293

THE UNWOMANLY FACE OF WAR AN ORAL HISTORY OF WOMEN IN WORLD WAR II by SVETLANA ALEXIEVICH

THE UNWOMANLY FACE OF WAR 

AN ORAL HISTORY OF WOMEN IN WORLD WAR II 

by SVETLANA ALEXIEVICH

Translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky

I would like to introduce one of the most influential books written on the discourse of war: 'War Has No Female Face' by Svetlana Alexievich, the Nobel Prize winner in Literature in 2015. The Nobel Academy praised Alexievich's narrative style, hailing the Belarusian author for presenting a fresh genre of documentary literature that portrays the suffering and courage of people, especially women, during World War II. We've often come across a sentence on the internet: 'There are two groups of people who will never lead a normal life again: those who have gone to war and those who have fallen in love.' The exact speaker of this sentence is unclear; some attribute it to Paulo Coelho, the author of 'The Alchemist,' others to Nicholas Sparks, the author of 'Message in a Bottle,' and even to Erich Maria Remarque, the renowned German author best known for 'All Quiet on the Western Front.' But more important than the speaker is the truth hidden within it: soldiers returning from war never return to normal life, and this book narrates this very truth. This book demonstrates that war, contrary to the common perception of it being a solely masculine endeavor, also has a female face. Women served as simple soldiers, snipers, pilots, nurses, doctors, laundry workers, and in dozens of other roles mentioned in this book, both on the front lines and behind them, affected by war and its subsequent consequences. What makes reading this book fascinating is its offering of a different perspective on war—not from the viewpoint of a seasoned general or a veteran politician, but from the perspective of ordinary women who have experienced war up close. This book includes over two hundred poignant accounts of women who fought for the former Soviet Union during WWII, depicting the brutality of war. I will focus on translating and sharing two narratives: " ... I changed so much during the war that when I came home, Mama didn't recognize me. People showed me where she lived. I went to the door and knocked. There come and answer: Yes, come in... " I go in, greet her, and say: Let me stay the night." Mama was lighting the stove, and my two little brothers were sitting on the floor on a pile off straw, naked. They had no clothes. Mama didn't recognize me and said: Do you see how we live? citizen? Go somewhere else before It gets dark." I do up closer, and she again says: "Go Somewhere else, citizen, before it gets dark. I bend over her, embrace her, and murmur mama, dear mam!" Then they all just fell on me and burst out crying..." page 33- 34 and "When the war ended, I had three wishes: first- to ride on a bus, instead of crawling on my stomach; second- to buy and eat a whole loaf of white bread; and third- to sleep in white sheets and have them make crinkly noises. White sheets... " page 39

Notes from book:

The first title of the book started with an uncompleted sentence " I DON'T WANT TO REMOVER..."

"How does a human being remain alone with the insane  thought that he or she might kill another human being?  Is even obliged to? And I would discover that in war there is, apart from death, a multitude of other things; There is everything that is in our ordinary life. War is also life." page 3

"We came to the recruiting office; We went in one door at once and we let out another. I had such a beautiful braid, and I came out without it... Without braid... they give me a soldier's haircut..." Page 7

"Mama would catch me, press me to her, and talk to me: "Wake up, wake up. The war is over. You're home." I would come to my sense at her words. "I'am your moma. Mama..." She spoke softly.  Softly... Loud talk frightened me..." page 11

"He asks: "How many Germans did you kill?" I says to him: " Seventy-five."he says a bit mockingly: "Come on, you probably didn't lay eyes on the single one." page 15

"Can they make a color film about war?Everything was black.Only the blood was another color, the blood was red..." Page 16

"Even if you( soldier) come home alive, your soul will hurt. Now I think: it would be better to be wounded in an arm or a leg. Then my body would hurt, not my soul... It's very painful. We were so young when we went to the front. Young girls. I even grew during the war. Mama measured me at the home... I grew four inches..." page 17 

"An instant chemical reaction took place: pathos dissolved in the living tissue of human destinies; It turned out to be a very short-lived substance. Destiny-is where is something else beyond the words." page 19

"What happened to a human being? What did human beings see and  understand there? About life-and-death in general? About themselves, finally? I am writing a story of feelings... A story of the soul... Not the history of war or a state and not the lives of heroes, but the history of small human beings, thrown out for ordinary life into the epic depths of  an enormous event. Into great history.The girls of 1941... the first thing I want to ask: Where did their kind of from? Why were there so many,? How is it they decided to take up arms on a par with men? To shoot, mine, blow up, bomb- kill." page 19

" ... I changed so much during the war that when I came home, Mama didn't recognize me. People showed me where she lived. I went to the door and knocked.

There come and answer: Yes, come in... "

 I go in, greet her, and say: Let me stay the night."

Mama was lighting the stove, and my two little brothers were sitting on the floor on a pile off straw, naked. They had no clothes. Mama didn't recognize me and said: Do you see how we live?  citizen? Go somewhere else before It gets dark."

I do up closer, and she again says: "Go Somewhere else, citizen, before it gets dark.

I bend over her, embrace her, and murmur mama, dear mam!"

Then they all just fell on me and burst out crying..." page 33- 34

"Now I live in Crimea... Here. Everything drowns in flower, and every day I look out of the window at the sea, but I am worn out with pain. I still don't have a woman face.  I cry often, I moan all day. It's my memories..." page 34

"She deserves to be decoration." Page 35

"When the war ended, I had three wishes: first- to ride on a bus, instead of crawling on my stomach; second- to buy and eat a whole loaf of white bread; and third-  to sleep in white sheets and have them make crinkly noises. White sheets... " page 39

"We no longer wept, because in order to weep you also need strength, but we wanted to sleep. To sleep and sleep." page 41

" Everything was black , only the bones were white...and the bone ash... I already recognized it... White as could be..." Page 43

"You think I'll say the most frightening thing in the war is death. To die.

... for me the most terrible thing in the war was - wearing men's underpants. that was fighting." page 65

"we all see life through our occupations , through our place in life or the events we participate in. It could be supposed that a nurse saw one war, a baker another, a paratrooper a third, a pilot a fourth the commander of a submachine-gun platoon a fifth... Each of these women had her own radius of visibility, so to speak." page 72

"I understood Long ago that we are a people of roads and conversation." Page 72

"War is  a man's business."  Page 74

" Irealize that here the war hasn't ended and never will." page 77

"I was struck each time by this mistrust of what is simple and human, by The wish to replace life with an Ideal. Ordinary warmth with a cold luster. And I couldn't forget how we drank tea The family way in the kitchen And how we both wept." page 89

"We hasn't to forget , to wipe away the traces, because preserved facts can become evidence, often at the cost of life. No one knows anything further future back than their grandparents; no one looks for their roots. They made history, but live for the day. On short memory." page 91

"And Would you like to forget the wall?   ..."And I'd like to forget. I want to ... " Olga Vasilyevne utters slowly, almost in a whisper. "I want to live at least one day without the war. Without our memory of it... At least one day..." page 98

"when things live in the house for a long time they acquire a Soul. I believe that." page 99

"... You can't shoot unless you hate. It's war, not a hunt." page 105

"When I Put on a dress for the first time, I flooded myself with tear. I didn't recognize myself in the mirror .we had spent four years in trousers. 

...men didn't shave the victory with us. It was painful... Incomprehensible... Because at the frontmentreated us marvelously well; They always protected us." page 109

"I can't say anything to you, Valya, I can only weep, " but there's no need to pity us. We're proud. Let them rewrite history ten times. witt Stalin or without Stalin. But this remains - We were victorious! And our sufferings. What we lived through. This isn't Juck or ashes. This is our life. Not a word more...." page 112

" ... It's terrible to remember, but it's far more terrible not to remember."  

Now I understand why they speak all the same..." Page 112

"Whenever I see wild flower, I remember the war. We didn't pick flowers then. And if we made bouquets, it was only when the buried someone... when we bid farewell." page 129

"I forgot everything in the war. My former life. Everything...and I forget love..." Page 137

"A human face is molded over a long time. The soul is slowly traced on ithuman face is molded over along time. The soul is slowly traced on it. But the war quickly created its image of people. Painted its own portraits." Page 150

"And you are all fine girls, no cowards. The war is over you could go back home, but you go to defend your motherland." Page 175.

"We're volunteers! We come to defend the motherland. we'll onlygotothe combat units..." page 181

"And no one told us again that we were beautiful. But beautiful girls were pitied at the war, more pitied. That's true. It was a pity to bury them ... A pity to send the death notice to their mamas..." page 182

" They needed soldiers... But we also wanted to be beautiful..." page 187

"Your strongest medicine is love. love protects, it gives the strength to survive." Page 187

"There was a belief, probably from the earliest times, that cats and women bring bad luck to sea." page 202

"And now there will be a story about love...

love is the only personal event in wartime. all the rest is common-even death." page 226

" I left Kazan for the front as a nineteen years old girl... Six months later I wrote my mother that people thought I was twenty-five or twenty- seven. Every day is spent in fear and terror." page 239

" When a man dies he always looks up, never to the side or at you, if you're next to him. only up... At the ceiling... But If he's looking into the sky..." page 239

""""" But it was impossible to think of anything personally when the motherland was in danger.""""" page 241

""""" I always proud that I had been at the front. Dfending the Motherland. """"" page 246

""""" I loved the motherland more than anything in the world. """"" page 250

 """"" we crossed the border- the Motherland was free. our land...  """"" page 303

"In our villages on Victoria day there is weeping, not rejoicing. Many weep. They grieve. " It was horrible... I buried all my family, I buried my soul in the war" ( V.G. Androsik, underground fighter). They. begin to talk softly, and in the end almost all of them shout." page 251

" My little son! we prepared the house for you! You promised you would bring kma young wife home! But you are marrying at the earth..." page 287

"To this day, I speak in a whisper ... about ... that ... In a whisper. After more than forty years... I've forgotten The war... Because even after the war I lived in fear, I live in hell." Page 298

"At the front, I couldn't imagine ever being able to read Heine's poems again. My beloved Goethe. I could never again listen to Wagner... Before the war, I grew up in a family of musicians, I love German music - Bach, Beetthoven. The great Bach! I crossed all of this out of my world." page 308

"We need hundreds like you, my girl, to tell our story. To describe all our sufferings. Our countless tears. My dear girl... "page 322

" For a long time after the war, I was afraid of the sky, even of raising my head toward the sky. I was afraid of seeing plowed-up earth. But the rooks already walked calmly over it. The birds quickly forgot the war." page 331

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oN32AbDqMkg&t=140s

https://adelesmaeilpour.wordpress.com/2025/05/08/the-unwomanly-face-of-war-an-oral-history-of-women-in-world-war-ii-by-svetlana-alexievich/

MISSING PERSON by PATRICK MODIANO Translated from the French by Daniel Weissbort

 MISSING PERSON by
PATRICK MODIANO

Translated from the French by Daniel Weissbort

In 2014, the Nobel Academy awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature to Patrick Modiano. His book Missing Person, translated into English by Daniel Weissbort, was originally published in French under the title Rue des Boutiques Obscures (Street of Dark Shops). This novel also won the prestigious Prix Goncourt in 1978.

The story follows a private detective who has lost parts of his memory and suffers from this amnesia—especially memories from before World War II and the Nazi occupation of France.

The protagonist, Guy Roland, who narrates his own story, remembers neither his real name nor his nationality. After the retirement of his boss, Hutte, and the closure of the detective agency, he decides to embark on a deeply personal investigation—one that leads him to search for his own identity after years of solving other people’s problems.

Identity and memory are the central themes that Modiano explores in Missing Person. To ease the pain of his forgotten past, Guy searches for clues to uncover who he really is.
On the very first page of the book, a sentence sets the tone for the entire story:
"I am nothing. Nothing but a faded figure, a ghost in that night on the café terrace, waiting for the rainbow to disappear. When Hutte left me, the heavy rain had already begun." — Page 1

Old photographs, addresses, names written on letters and envelopes, and vague recollections of streets, alleyways, and Parisian building facades—these fleeting fragments pass through his mind like shadows, guiding him in his quest to reconstruct his past.

As Guy Roland searches for his lost identity, readers follow him on this journey. However, due to his fragmented memories, they sometimes doubt the reality of his story. Was he a Greek-Jewish exile living in France under an assumed name? Or was he merely a South American diplomat? His past remains shrouded in uncertainty.

For instance, one of his hazy memories involves paying a guide who was supposed to help him and a friend escape across the cold, snowy mountains from France to Switzerland. Along the way, they became separated, and his past slips further into mystery.

Modiano emphasizes the fragility of human identity, shaped by memory. The theme of searching for the past is evident in many of his works. In Accident Nocturne (Night Accident), he writes:
"Scents… they are the best way to bring the past back to life."
Our memories, stored in our minds, shape who we are. Without them, like Guy Roland—the novel’s narrator—we become lost and disconnected from our own identity. When memories fade, nothing remains of us.

It’s also important to note that beyond personal memory, which this book focuses on, collective memory holds even greater significance. For example, traditions like the ancient Nowruz celebrations are part of the shared memory of Iranians. Without them, understanding Iranian identity would be incomplete.

Many of Patrick Modiano’s books, including this one, have been translated into Persian by talented Iranian translators, some of whom I will mention in the video description.
Finally, I’d like to take this opportunity to wish you a Happy Nowruz and a wonderful new year. I hope you get the chance to read this book and enjoy it!

DEAR LIFE by Alice Munro

 DEAR LIFE

by Alice Munro

In 2013, the Nobel Prize in Literature was awarded to Alice Munro, with the Swedish Academy praising her as a "master of the contemporary short story." Their statement commended Munro for her precise storytelling, characterized by clarity and psychological realism.

Alice Munro was born in the town of Wingham, Ontario, Canada, a place situated along the Maitland River. The reason for highlighting her birthplace is that at least four of her stories are deeply connected to her life and surroundings, forming a kind of autobiography. These four final stories are titled: "The Eye," "Night," "Voices," and of course, her finest story, "Dear Life."

This book is one of Munro’s last works and beautifully showcases her mastery of short story writing.

Wherever people go, they often carry their religious beliefs, cultural traditions, and even ethnic perspectives with them—and they strive to pass these beliefs on to their children.

Canada has long been a country that welcomes immigrants and has officially embraced and actively implemented a multicultural policy. Munro’s stories profoundly reflect the diverse beliefs and cultures of this vast land. This is why her stories feel deeply connected to reality, making them both relatable and believable.

Munro draws inspiration for her short stories from her surroundings, portraying the world of women who grapple with loneliness, gender-based challenges, financial and intellectual independence, and struggles against outdated beliefs.

As I mentioned earlier, this collection tells its stories in the simplest way possible, without using overly complex phrases or overly refined sentences. The focus remains on people’s lives, making the stories both profound and impactful.

Munro’s narratives explore themes such as memory loss in old age, the search for lost identity, disillusionment with everyday life, difficult choices at life’s crossroads, the fading of love over time, and the transformation of beliefs due to social and geographical changes.

For example, in the story "To Reach Japan," Munro explores a woman’s inner conflict between her role as a mother and her identity as a poet. At the same time, the story highlights emotional fulfillment and the consequences of choices in personal and family relationships. A tension arises in the protagonist’s mind as she struggles between her inner desires and societal expectations.

Munro has a way of immersing readers in the lives of her characters, making them feel real and tangible. I won’t be summarizing all fourteen stories in this book, but I will touch on some of their key themes.

Love, aging, regret, life-altering moments, the passage of time and its impact on our choices, moral values, childhood innocence, confronting fears and past sins, and social hypocrisy are among the themes explored in this collection.

For instance, in the story "Paradise," a young girl is placed under the strict control of her religious uncle in the absence of her parents. Her uncle expects both her and his wife to conform to his rigid religious and traditional values. The story directly addresses gender roles within family control, the power structures within households, and the suppression of individual identity.

In "Pride," the central theme revolves around human relationships and unspoken emotions. Here, pride is depicted as a double-edged sword—it can protect one’s dignity, yet it can also cause harm, preventing deep emotional connections.

The story "Train" presents an unexpected and involuntary situation where a war veteran jumps off a train near a village and finds himself entangled in a complex life he neither anticipated nor was prepared for.

The short story "In Sight of the Lake" focuses on aging and memory loss, touching on the theme of dementia and how memory shapes our identity. It raises an important question: What role do we play in the memories of others, and what memories of them remain in our own minds?

I hope you find the opportunity to read this book and enjoy it!

RED SORGHUM (ˈsôrɡəm) By MO YAN

 RED SORGHUM (ˈsôrɡəm)

By MO YAN

Translated by Howard Goldblatt

Notes from book:

“The people of my father's generation who lived there ate sorghum  bvnout of preference, planting as much of it as they could. In late autumn, during  the eighth lunar month , vast strangers of red sorghum shimmered like a sea of blood. Tall and dense, it reeked of glory, cold and graceful, it promised enchantment, passionate and loving, it was tumultuous.” page 4

“ Uncle Arhat had died the year before on the Jiao Ping highway. His corpse, after being hacked to pieces, had been scattered around the area.” page 9

“In country records I discovered that in 1938, the twenty -seventh year of the Republic, four hundred thousand man- days were spent by local workers from Gaomi,Pingdu,and Jiao countries in the service of the Japanese army to build the Jiao- Ping highway.” page 14

“Father heard Grandma say," Even if you can't agree, you mustn't abandon Justice and honor. This isn't the time or place to fight. Take your fury out on the Japanese" page 27

"Uncle Arhat's blood is in this wine." she said "If you're honorable men you'll drink it, then go out and destroy the Jap convoy. After that, chickens can go their own way, dogs can go theirs. well water and river water don't mix.” page 28

“The long, sorrowful blast of en bugle near the bridge is immediately followed by the staccato rhythm of machine-gun fire. Grandma's blood continues to flow in concert with her breathing.” page 70

“Grandma and granddad exchanged their love surrounded by the vitality of the sorghum field: two unbridled souls, refusing to knuckle out under to worldly conversations, were fused together more closely than their ecstatic bodies. They plowed the clouds and scattered rain in the field, adding a patina of lustrous red to the rich and varied history of Northeast Gaomi Township.” page 71

" Financial losses, lucky bosses." Page 110

"Heaven has no eyes ... Heaven has no eyes ... " page 111

“you pitiable, frail, suspicious, stubbornly biased child, whose soul has been spellbound by poisonous wine, go down to the Black Water River and soak in its waters for three days and three nights- remember, not a day more or a day less- to cleanse yourself, body and soul. then you can return to your real world.” page 359

“ Then said to uncle Arhat," Foreman, that's not all I can do. Now look, when the wine comes down the spouts, the steam dissipates. If you put another, smaller distiller over the spouts, you'd have nothing but the best wine." page 149

“The Japs torched The village before withdrawing. Flames shot up into the heavens, and kept burning, turning half the sky white. The moon that night was full and blood-red, but the war below turned it pale and weak, like a faded paper cutout hanging grimy in the sky.

"where to now, Dad?

No response.”

page 165

"I'm not with the Eighth road Army," Granddad said, "or Ninth Route. I'm Yu Zhan'ao the bandit." Page 183

“when I look back up on my family's history, I find that the lives of all the key members have at some point been linked inextricably with some sort of dark, dank or hole,beginning with Mother.” page 190

“After helping fill in the pit, I stayed with her to look down at this resting place of a thousand bodies, and kowtowed three times. "It's been forty-six years", Mother said " I was fifteen then." page 204

"As the ancients said," Heaven never seals off all the exits." Page 225

"the Japanese entered the village.

The Sun, stained by human blood, set behind the mountain as the crimson full moon of mid-autumn rose about the sorghum.

My Father heard Granddad's muted call:

Douguan-!" page 236

"Hungry? Listen to me. Rivals and Lovers are destined to meet. Men die over riches, birds perish over food. The young must not scoff at the old, for flowers don't bloom forever. One must know when to yield to others. No sign of weakness, it will work to one's later advantage ..." page 241

" It's easy to invite the gods, hard to send them away," Granddad said". page 244

"Grandad and the others are argued" A man only lives once. Don't let the world look down on the people of Northeast Gaomi Township." page 257

"single-stalk garlic is always the the hottest." page 270

“As a result, the years of 1925 to 1928 marked a golden age of banditry in Northeast Gaomi Township. Granddad's reputation rocked the government.” page 274

“But Granddad forget the simple dialectic that a bright sun darkens, a full moon wanes, a full cup overflows, and decay follows prosperity. Grandma's grand funeral would be yet another of his great mistakes.”page 297

" Rumors of brutality were hard for the people to put aside, especially in their dreams." page 311

" A stable , peaceful Society is the training around for humanity, just as caged animals, removed from the violent unpredictability of the wild, are influenced by the behavior of their captors in time. Do you agree? Yes? No? well, say it, Yes or no?" page 323

" I sometimes think that there is a link between the decline in humanity and the increase in prosperity and comfort. Prosperity and comfort are what people seek, but the costs to character are often terrifying." page 334

"Not to be intimidated, the other officer Said, Is it the mission of resistance fighters to starve or freeze? No, we must be flexible and resourceful. Tolerance must be one of our stratagems. The only way we'll win this way of resistance is by conserving our strength.” page 349

“For ten years I had been away from my village now I stood before my second grandma's grave, affecting the hypocritical display of affection. I had learned from high society, with a body immersed so long in the filth of urban life that a foul stench oozed from my porse. I had paid my respect at many gravesites before coming to that of the woman whose short but magnificent life constitutes a page in the most heroic and most bastardly history of my hometown.” page 356

RED SORGHUM

Mu Yan mentions the use of numbers in names as part of Chinese tradition.

“ Did Fenglian, we call her Little nine.”

“ Village Chief, Five Monkeys Shan”

“ Nine Dreams Cao” 

“Five Troubles”

“Old three”

“Second master Cao”

“Eighth Route Master”

"Eighteen Stabs Geng"