Bad Kids | Zijin Chen

Pushkin Press has made a name for itself as a publisher of translated fiction, specialising in classic Japanese crime fiction by authors such as Seishi Yokomizo and Akimitsu Takagi. With Bad Kids, written by a Chinese author, they make the transition to modern crime fiction. The reason for their choice is obvious: the novel has been adapted for television and is one of China’s most popular online TV shows of all time. But will the English translation be as successful?

The short answer? Yes and no. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The plot of Bad Kids starts off as a simple one. Zhang Dongshen, an opportunistic and clearly evil man, is in an unhappy marriage. His wife, who comes from a wealthy family, has a new lover and wishes to divorce him. Zang wants her money, but he has to get rid of a few people first. He begins with his in-laws, whom he takes to Sanmingshan, Ningbo’s most famous mountain. Zang pushes them both over the edge while posing for a photo on a ledge, convinced that no one saw what he did. No one witnessed the murder, but three children were taking photographs nearby and they see a perfect opportunity for extortion. What begins as blackmail quickly transforms into something much darker and unexpected.

Who are the “bad kids” in the scenario? Zhu Chaoyang, a star student, comes from a middle-class, single-parent family. His father left his mother for another woman and started a new family, ignoring the existence of his son and ex-wife. Instead, he lavishes attention and money on his new wife and her spoilt young daughter. This makes Zhu Chaoyang angry and bitter, but would he have acted on his rage if he hadn’t met Ding Hao and Pupu? Having fled their orphanage, the two runaways pitch on his doorstep pleading for a place to stay. Ding Hao and Zhu Chaoyang were classmates, so they aren’t strangers to each other. Naturally, Zhu vents his frustration, and the duo has a few suggestions on how to solve his problem.

This plot sounds dark, twisted, and intriguing. Nonetheless, despite its compelling premise, the story felt overly long and meandering. Crime fiction translated from Japanese or Chinese tends to be stripped down, simple, and devoid of unnecessary details or complexities. This is also true here, but sometimes the narrative feels clunky, over-simplistic, unconvincing, and repetitive. Of course, keep in mind that these are barely teenagers. Perhaps this is simply what they sound like? Herein lies the problem. Is this trying style the result of a difficult translation or is it intentional?

This appears to be the third novel featuring Professor Yan Liang as a retired investigator, and perhaps a translation of previous novels would have provided readers with more context. His was the most likeable character, and he didn’t get as much page time as he deserved. Nonetheless, Bad Kids raises some important issues in contemporary Chinese society, such as pressure to perform, estrangement from parents, morality and the mistaken belief that someone who excels academically is automatically a good person.

Bad Kids will appeal if you don’t mind a slow read. You will undoubtedly be rewarded with some unexpected twists, as well as a chilling glimpse into a seemingly broken society.

Bad Kids was translated by Michelle Deeter and published by Pushkin Press who kindly provided me with a NetGalley review copy.

Two Lives | A Yi

In Two Lives A Yi tells seven stories with life, love and crime as their central themes. His writing has been described as on the dark side and he’s known for his “bizarre literary style and utterly unsentimental worldview”.

Two Lives is the manifestation of these comments. Having read a fair amount of writing from Chinese, Japanese and Korean authors, I thought I knew what I was letting myself in for. One can expect a certain amount of quirkiness, stripped down prose and a different worldview from your own. However, this was a whole other cup of tea and not a flavour I was particularly appreciating.

As mentioned above, the book consists of seven stories: Two Lives; Attic; Spring; Bach; Human Scum; Fat Duck and Predator. Two Lives starts off with the main character raping a woman because he failed his college entrance exam for the eighth year straight and the woman he sees cycle past looks at him “disdainfully”. This is followed by another attack on a woman by two other men. Attic tells the story of a woman who is forced to marry someone she doesn’t love and develops depression – which is ignored and laughed at by her family and doctor. Spring details the murder of a prostitute. And those are only the first three stories. This is also as far as I could manage to read this short story anthology.

Brace yourself for a fair amount of profanity, graphic detail, violence and ample sexual references to anatomy. This being said, I’m not shocked easily, but I did find this, in combination to the depiction of women, offensive. Women are either depicted as victims, prostitutes or as constantly nagging and waddling like ducks. Men are abusers or utterly worthless at finding their way in life. Yi’s world is a grim reality and this coming from someone who reads crime novels on a daily basis and grisly Nordic Noir before bedtime.

It is possible to be a creative writer with a unique style and dark topics, but it’s possible without these additional aspects. I can also appreciate avant-garde writing, but apart from above mentioned, large parts of these stories did not make logical sense at all.

According to the Paper Republic website Yi previously worked as a police officer, secretary and editor before he started to write fiction. He is described as not being celebrated in China’s literary circles due to his standoffish personality and stubborn dedication to his art.

Clearly Yi is an acquired taste, one I’m OK to pass along for someone else to experience. Nonetheless, his style of writing and choice of subject matter will appeal to a certain demographic.

Two Lives is published by Flame Tree Press and is the first in the new Flame Tree Press series, Stories from China. This review copy was provided by the publisher via NetGalley for an honest review.