Madeleine Thien

Do Not Say We Have Nothing

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SHORTLISTED FOR THE BAILEYS WOMEN'S PRIZE FOR FICTION 2017
SHORTLISTED FOR THE MAN BOOKER PRIZE 2016
WINNER OF THE SCOTIABANK GILLER PRIZE 2016
SHORTLISTED FOR THE PARAGRAPHE HUGH MACLENNAN PRIZE FOR FICTION 2016

In Canada in 1991, ten-year-old Marie and her mother invite a guest into their home: a young woman who has fled China in the aftermath of the Tiananmen Square protests. Her name is Ai-Ming.As her relationship with Marie deepens, Ai-Ming tells the story of her family in revolutionary China, from the crowded teahouses in the first days of Chairman Mao's ascent to the Shanghai Conservatory in the 1960s and the events leading to the Beijing demonstrations of 1989. It is a history of revolutionary idealism, music, and silence, in which three musicians, the shy and brilliant composer Sparrow, the violin prodigy Zhuli, and the enigmatic pianist Kai struggle during China's relentless Cultural Revolution to remain loyal to one another and to the music they have devoted their lives to. Forced to re-imagine their artistic and private selves, their fates reverberate through the years, with deep and lasting consequences for Ai-Ming — and for Marie.Written with exquisite intimacy, wit and moral complexity, Do Not Say We Have Nothing magnificently brings to life one of the most significant political regimes of the 20th century and its traumatic legacy, which still resonates for a new generation. It is a gripping evocation of the persuasive power of revolution and its effects on personal and national identity, and an unforgettable meditation on China today.
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613 printed pages
Publication year
2016
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Quotes

  • finalfadeouthas quoted3 months ago
    Many lives and many selves might exist, but that doesn’t render each variation false.
  • finalfadeouthas quoted3 months ago
    She was still so young but why did she already look so empty?
  • finalfadeouthas quoted3 months ago
    Big Mother had told her that in the early 1960s, Conservatory students had been sent out to the fields to wage war. They played their instruments loudly and dissonantly from morning until night so that no little birds could land in the fields and eat the grain. Day after day, thousands of sparrows, killed by exhaustion, had fallen dead from the sky. “Yet another solicitous idea from Chairman Mao,” Big Mother had said solemnly. “Who said Western music never killed anyone?”

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