We Three
I started reading "We Three" in Beijing last week, which might have accounted for the vividness of the references and events described throughout the reading experience. And I finished it this morning on a ferry under a gloomy sky, which might have imprinted more weight (of waves) on my final impression of the book...
You can definitely postulate the content from the title: an autobiography, not of the writer, but a family of three as a unit, who survived most of the critical events in the modern history of China. And you probably can smell the colour from it too: rustic yet literary, heartwarming yet solitary, melancholic yet calm, ordinary yet elaborated, and proud.
I am most mesmerized by such quality of pride, and perseverance, about the pursuit of life which is almost extinct in our time, and perhaps the concept of a family. It permeates the pages with the scent of some antique chest. Not from the filial responsibility, but the mutual reliance and genuine appreciation. You do not need to know both the father and mother were renowned artists (writers) to feel it, because there is nothing extravagant in the narration despite the dramatic backdrop. Everything seems so light and tiny that you would just miss in a glimpse.... even the expected deaths of the father and the daughter, witnessed by the mother and writer, after all.
After all, everything seems so natural, which is why it's worth remembering it, and writing it down. Any memory should be commemorated with respect.
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