Reflections on Jing M.Guo's Novels

Jing M.Guo said: He always likes to look at the sky quietly. He will be inexplicably sad when he looks at it, and the pain will flood in, forcing people to burst into tears.

Jing M.Guo said: He has so many friends that a billboard can hit three, but his real heart is only open to a few people, so that they can see the loopholes inside.

Jing M.Guo said: He studies well, has a good family, has many friends and writes well. Such a perfect life, why not be happy? So he laughed every day and everyone nodded with satisfaction. Yes, that's the look you should have.

Jing M.Guo said: He likes liberal arts very much, but he finally chose science under the expectation of his parents. He said that he was a good boy, a good boy in the eyes of his parents and a teacher's pride, but his liberal arts abandoned him forever.

Lonely children who are addicted to their own music, their own movies, their own words and their own sadness.

Jing M. Guo is a tearful boy, a boy who loves typing quietly in the middle of the night, a boy who will feel the whispering of leaves when a large number of fallen leaves fall, and a thin and distressing boy.

He will tell stories, tell himself, tell friends and tell his own sadness; He will shed tears, loneliness, sadness and the passage of time. He will walk alone, write alone, meditate alone, and be alone with the people he loves and loves.

His years can be summarized in seven days, or even shorter, and he can only write five thousand words. So, he walked alone on the road of time, as if this road was the road of sadness. So he smiled, he laughed with all the people who loved him, he let all the people who loved him see his happiness and happiness, and then a person silently brewed sadness into a sensitive and painful nerve in his heart.

If anyone hurts me, it is Jing m Guo.

May we fly freely on the edge of love and pain, flying all the way over the sun, the moon, the Spring and Autumn Cangshan, pouring water, the rolling river and the dark peaks until the dark clouds disperse and the sun shines.

-inscription

I have always liked Jing M.Guo's handwriting, but my mother won't let me read it because his handwriting is too small. I bought this book only because of its big characters, but the little accident that "Jing M Guo only has this big character" decided that I would like this book.

The book is divided into two parts: Sunny Day and Late Night, which describe the happiness and troubles in the author's youth world. He hates the boring life in school, but he also knows that only by squeezing into the wooden bridge of the college entrance examination can he prove his success. He yearns for the writer's rich spiritual world, but at the same time he has an undisguised desire for secular money.

From "bright day" to "endless night"; From "Happiness of Watching the Sky from a Well" to "Children who are always sad"; From "cloudy day" to "tomorrow winter", I was suddenly pulled to the edge of love and pain. Between the lines, I feel that the author's Gemini is half bright and half sad. The child who likes to watch movies, looks up at the cloudy sky at a 45-degree angle, has a bright smile and deep eyes without sadness, and gradually emerges in front of me in the torrent of time.

There are many sentences in this book that I can't forget, such as "the loneliest plant in the world is willow." In the bright spring, it is full of white worries, shaking off in the air, drifting with the wind, and becoming lonely little by little. " The original common plant willow and its catkins are floating around, which is described by the author as so aura. There is also the phrase "loneliness will gradually penetrate from the skin until it fills the gap in every bone and dissolves into all the blood." This is a gorgeous exile, which embodies the sad side of the author's character.

A book reviewer commented on Jing M.Guo's book: Why is his book so popular? Because he is a student, he writes what students think.

Another person commented on Jing M Guo's writing like this: Many writers or writers hold dictionaries when writing, hoping to use more gorgeous words, but not everyone can become Jing M Guo.

I don't think what they said is unreasonable.

The edge of love and pain touched a nerve of mine and made my heart throb inexplicably. Jing M.Guo is a genius. There are thousands of Chinese characters in China. He was well organized and won praise from many people. It is rumored that he is copying. I don't think that's important, at least for me, because I really like his books, and there are still many that I haven't had time to read. I think I will find them and read them carefully, so I will be deeply moved by them.

city of fantasy

1

If you put away your memory, if you turn back the clock.

If you pull your youth back to its hasty shape. If you light the years into a jumping light in the dark.

so

2

It's not fiction or fiction-I really had this dream when I was young.

I know it's false, but it's too real to deny.

In my dream, I stood on an empty and cold ice sheet. The huge glacier split the blue sky like an axe, and the huge and long snow seemed to come from behind endlessly, and then rolled towards the distant horizon. Large groups of snowflakes scattered the line of sight and stirred the white light.

Between heaven and earth is a sharp whistle, which penetrates the eardrum and stings the chest.

Silver knights and wizards wrapped in black cloaks stood in silence on the mirror-like ice sheet, their eyes as silent as the eternal universe.

In my dream, I walked towards them step by step and approached them slowly. My heart is full of excitement and fear.

Then, I slowly became them.

-I forgot whether I became the Silver Knight or dark wizard.

three

When writing this passage, it has been eight years since I started writing this novel. What is eight years like? According to the life expectancy of 80 years, one tenth of the time has passed. And what if you follow the whole golden youth?

That was a whole youth.

It seems that when people start to grow up slowly, they will slowly think of the past. Whether it is a failure or a great one. Pale or gorgeous. They all become like licorice sticks, chewing a new taste in their mouths. There is a hint of bitterness in sweetness, which makes people frown gently.

But most of my memories should be shallow, ignorant and childish. So there will be a lot of regrets in my heart.

But it is very subtle, but it will produce an unwarranted envy and yearning for yourself.

four

It seems that a 24-year-old man who is going to be 25 years old is not suitable for hurting spring and mourning autumn. For those who have written down their lives and memories, there are many feelings of shame and hard to face. Perhaps only when people are young and frivolous will they confidently and boldly show their hearts, fragile furry surfaces or cold and smooth inner walls. Show all personal feelings and moods in front of others as grand as an exhibition, win others' sad sympathy, or sneer. The confidence and oath at that time turned into a thin sigh in the long consumption and fell to the ground.

17 years old, infinitely brave.

Now, I'm like a Prada bear in reinforced armor hanging from my bag. I am strong, invulnerable and likable, but I am far away from the self at the end of the world.

five

Rereading the postscript of "Fantasy City", I found that there are many sincere feelings besides slightly melodramatic writing, but I can't write them now. Today, when I grow up, I have long been used to putting all my inner joys and sorrows into novels and expressing them through my own characters. This will not be criticized. Because everything is "this plot is pure fiction." For prose, it is almost a heartfelt thing, but it has not been touched for a long time. Except for two essays published in 2003 and 2004, I dare not publish any records about my mood until today. It seems that antibodies are produced, and when some injuries are close to you, they will be keenly aware. So the alarm in my head began to beep.

There are many things mentioned in the postscript and many friends. Some friends still meet every day, such as A Liang, while others can only talk on the phone occasionally. Everyone has gradually grown and changed in eight years, and has his own life, a new circle of friends, a new living environment, a new job and a new meaning in life.

So not many people go back to explore how we got to this point.

It seems that the sad topic has started again.

six

We always complain about the past.

No good studies, no kind lovers.

The childish articles written in those years and the impulsive things done in those years now seem to be regretful.

So, when I wrote a new preface for the book I wrote eight years ago, I didn't know what to write. Although I have left myself far away at the beginning of the text, I don't know how many journeys I have made during this period. The burden on the shoulders is getting heavier and heavier, and the shoes step deeply on the heavy snow on the road, leaving clear footprints that point to the distant future like road signs.

Of course, you can also rely on these footprints to go back to the distant past. At that time, the sky was still blue and transparent, and the earth was softly covered with white clouds, like a wrapped gift.

The whole earth sleeps in the young season. There was golden light on the horizon, hiding behind the hurricane.

seven

Sewing on this first novel for a week in a row is like an old woman mending her original wedding dress. It is an indescribable emotion in her heart, subtly mixed with the proportion of sadness and joy, and it is difficult to accurately calculate the composition. The details have been renovated, as if they were clean in words forever, and it is difficult to face the works of a year ago, or even six months ago or three months ago. So let alone see the passionate self that didn't convey the meaning eight years ago.

We are always discussing in words which is more important, passion or skill.

The answer is no.

eight

After the long and snowy winter, Shanghai began to recover slowly.

The silver snow turned into gray rain. The whole city has become a bustling city bathed in wet fog. The spinning glass ball gives off bright light.

Only in imagination can we spy on and touch the once distant ice age.

The ice lords stood on the lost vilen, and the ice and snow piled up long sadness on their shoulders. Those love and hate, those heavy sighs in fate, are condensed by white light in Cang Xue below zero.

Such a world transformed from imagination and passion in my memory seems to be a light year away from me.

It stays at the end of my world 17 years old.

They are suspended in the white dust of the universe.

nine

Many names have been repeated and become legends in many lives.

Their white hair and eyes, their tragic fate turned to ashes in the sound of birds singing.

Castle, cherry blossom, pear drop, orchid ... They were born out of a boy's brain when 17 years old, and then became a little legend in the world.

10

Shanghai is slowly entering spring. When the sun is shining, I will go downstairs to Starbucks for a cup of coffee, sit on the open roadside and watch foreigners come and go, holding English newspapers and coffee in my hand. The sound of them leafing through the newspaper crashed.

And a few years later, I'm not the kid who hurried to school with a schoolbag on his back. Now wear a little formal suit every day and enter the office building. After being woken up by the phone every morning, I began to discuss various topics and projects with others while drinking coffee.

After the air conditioner was turned on all night, the whole room became particularly dry. I unscrewed the shower head, and the shower head spewed out countless white misty fog.

Drive. Watch a movie. Writing the latest chapter of Tiny Times, I think Lin Xiao should be with the sword or together. Organize the latest work plan and fight with advertisers. Sometimes flattering and sometimes hostile to media reporters, the organs all giggle at each other.

How far is this life from the frozen empire?

Silver knights or witchcraft wizards, they never existed.

1 1

Eight years ago, I couldn't stand separation, loneliness, growth, depression, disappointment, secularity, falsehood and money.

Now I'm used to it.

In fact, sometimes a person sits by the floor-to-ceiling windows of skyscrapers, listening to the depressed but eager music in the bar, and then tilting his head to look at the small and sharp fashion capital under his feet-such loneliness has been decorated by the taste and nobility of matter. Become a vision in the eyes of others.

You have become a landscape in the eyes of others.

12

Looking back, you will actually find many, many childish places. Whether in "Dream City" or in the young days when I was writing "Dream City".

But I will still miss those rough and slightly pale days. That period of not too long nor too short high school years was cut by selfish self, framed and hung on my inner wall for many years.

The bell in class is always boring, but suddenly one day it becomes a melody of ode to joy.

The school badminton court is open-air, and the cement floor is polished smooth and shiny by countless pairs of sneakers. I fell on it many times.

At the food stall at the school gate, the proprietress will chop up watermelons in summer, put them in glass tanks, add sugar water and crushed ice, and then turn them into cheap cold drinks, 50 cents a cup.

And the roast mutton that our parents have always forbidden us to eat at the door. They say that if we eat too much, we will get cancer. But it's still winter, and I will copy my hand in my sleeve and wait in front of the stall with trepidation.

There is also a small artificial lake. There are always truant students sleeping on the grass by the artificial lake. The lake is a girls' dormitory. Their colorful clothes hang in the corridor, like various mottled flags.

The road from the dormitory to the boiling water room is long and quiet, with tall trees on both sides. Huge shade grows in summer, which makes people afraid at many nights. I quickly ran back to the dormitory with a water bottle. But in the morning, there will be beautiful light, shining through one or two crisp bird songs.

If time could be turned back-

13

I have done countless psychological tests about whether to go back to the past. I always feel that I must want to go back to the past. But when I choose carefully, I will find that when you wash away the dust of these years and stand at a clean starting point, you may not be happier than now.

The premise of going back in time must be to let me keep the memories of these years.

Over the years, I have used this opening remark on countless occasions. I have complained about the pain of life and the heaviness of fate. I have shared the joy of success and tasted the bitterness of failure. However, no matter how much weight and dust accumulate on my shoulders, they will eventually decorate my destiny.

They turned my body into a container, sealed the past years and turned bitter tears into sweet springs.

They made me the king of ice and snow, and they finally became the last Cang Xue.

Left hand reflection. Right-handed youth.

What I once thought I was obsessed with was forgotten in the process of obsession.

-Small four

I found a very shabby book in the library: Left-handed Reflection, Right-handed Time, written by (Jing M.Guo), which sold well in previous years.

Breathing the hot and humid air in July, I sat at a small desk by the window and finished reading this book. I don't know how many times I have read this book. I only know that when reading this book, I will feel immersed in an ancient well: cold and quiet.

This book is some words written by senior four in senior three, including novels and essays, interspersed with many feelings of his growth. For readers, he wrote other people's stories, but his own mood reflected the growth and transformation of this generation between the lines. Maybe they are about the same age, so when I read his article, I was deeply touched.

Perhaps influenced by the young heroes in the textbooks during the war, I always think that youth is a passionate word, youth is hope, and youth is the bright young smiling face of big brother and big sister. But when I grew up slowly and finally began to realize my youth, I obviously felt the deep and shallow helplessness behind these two words. Youth is nothing but a whizzing of pain and happiness!

Xiao Si's style of writing is very delicate, just like a tiny barb accidentally plunged into the soft flesh of the palm of your hand, which can only make your heart ache all the time. Xiao Si wrote martial arts novels in gorgeous words, essays in lonely words and his feelings in desperate words. Every word in the book is his sigh, but it is unfathomable sadness, one sound at a time, one piece at a time, endless.

The children of our generation all look good, love to laugh, love sports, are educated and polite, but is this really the case? The crowded crowd is full of strange eyes; Upstairs and downstairs, there are all indifferent expressions. Only you know how tired you are growing up in such an environment. Reinforced concrete has built an indestructible stone forest, but those of us who live in this forest are vulnerable because of too strong protection.

When we stand on the threshold of youth, we begin to learn to gain insight into society and think about life. We also began to face the pressure: the pressure of study, the pressure of society. These people who have experienced these truths all understand, but they can't describe them to us in words. Even if it is described, children can't understand it unless they experience it personally.

In this book, Xiao Si recorded some things he thought when he was in senior three. Like every child of that age, Xiao thought about his dull life experience, unforgettable friends, desperate outlook on life, love for rock music and non-mainstream movies, and irresistible helplessness for the future.

Newborn calves are not afraid of tigers, but when we realize that there are so many things in this world that we can't control, such as college entrance examination, dropping out of school, being laid off and leaving our jobs … we start to hesitate and become timid. When we realize that the adult society will be more complicated and the hidden rules in the society will be more helpless, our eyes are full of cowardice and our hearts are full of despair. We are like children lost in the dark, looking at the empty front and sobbing, not knowing where the bright exit is. Children are so eager to grow up overnight, but when this day really comes, we are caught off guard. So we began to realize that childhood is the happiest time for a person. For the first time in my life, I have a strong nostalgia, I miss everything I have experienced, and I miss those simple lives and small happiness.

This book is divided into two parts. The first part is: look back; The second part is: Say good night at dawn. The second part is about the ambivalence of refusing to grow up. He is so obsessed with the past days and so reluctant to laugh in the past, so his words are decisive, one by one, like embedded in paper, which makes people sad.

Time will not wait for us hesitant children. No one can take us away except ourselves. When we were so sad and desperate that we still didn't find the fairy in the fairy tale to help us guide the way in the maze, we hung our heads in front of reality like all the people who have been there. Only in this way, only in this way is the only way to grow up. This period is both the end and the beginning.

Xiao Si clearly described his mood in the article: I put away my old rock CD, just like putting away a waking dream. In a simple sentence, I saw the choppy tears in his heart when he wrote this sentence.

Since it's a new beginning, let's really start. I found a bunch of songs: why not, a new day, I want to fly and so on. The lyrics of these songs are healthy and positive, which are suitable for Li Zhi. We all pretend that there are some beautiful things waiting for us in the future, and pretend that tomorrow will be really beautiful. In this way, I comforted myself by deceiving myself, and the days actually grew some hope.

Small four, too, started a new thinking in a new city and a new loneliness in a new crowd. In some articles he wrote after the college entrance examination, although he was so nostalgic for the past and so resistant to reality, his tone was no longer as rebellious as before. He was so restrained, with tragic hope, so huge and slender, like a wounded deer, licking its unhealed scars quietly, flashing trembling eyelashes and opening his eyes wide to prepare for the next day.

Silhouettes, it seems, should all be beautiful things. I don't know if my feelings are beautiful in youth, but with these feelings, my future may be beautiful.

While reading this book, I drank water from a cup with a lot of ice in it. The outside of the glass was wet, and those water drops fell into the pages like tears. Even if it evaporates in the future, those papers will remember that they came, just like those lost youth: you came.

The summer solstice is not here.

You are all legends in this world, and you have made so many people cry.

-inscription

That year, we stopped under the camphor tree;

That year, we were all young and full of energy;

That year, we all grew up in a hazy mood;

That year, our friendship bloomed like a flower and broke like a flower;

Fu Xiaosi, Lu Zhiang, Changxia, Met, Qingtian and Broken Bridge, who were thoroughly remoulded in Xiao Si's works, appeared in front of me with a faint smell of grass. At that time, no one was injured, and no one hurt anyone. ..........

Perhaps one day in the story, Chang Xia and Met are telling jokes that only the other side can understand; Fu Xiaosi and Lu Zhiang are fighting with each other and verbally attacking each other. These deja vu stories flashed in my mind like movies, slowly hitting my heart and flowing out a quiet and lyrical song.

I once believed that this silent and indifferent boy would really paint a happy paradise with this simple and lovely girl with their youth.

Unfortunately, summer is beautiful but short, and it ruthlessly takes away the first memories, just like the midnight train crashing into everything beautiful and finally disappearing ... so, we are all old.

1995-2005, ten years, long but short. Buried the youth, buried the initial belief, and buried the firmness. Only those broken friendships are left.

When I closed the book, I even felt like a bystander watching them go through ten years. I saw a small company, a famous change; Seeing cute but impulsive Ang seeing the sad departure of Changxia; Saw a happy meeting with Qingtian; I see a quiet and smiling bridge in heaven. ........................................................................................................................................ ................................ in that case, there would be no pain and memory today, and there would be no initial belief.

After watching the summer solstice for ten years, camphor trees spread in every corner;

After watching the heavy snow for ten years, the school boiling room is full of happiness;

After crying for ten years, Chang Xia propped up the sky for a small company with his thin strength;

Ten years of stubbornness, every time I think of meeting an indomitable eyebrow eye, I will feel dull pain;

Thank you for teaching me what growth is, what love is, and how to face the immediate loss and heartache.

In my last dream, I seemed to see you, who had been far away, coming to me hand in hand, just a short distance. The wind blows your hair and you smile at me quietly.

The background is that there is no summer on the solstice, summer.

Island.

Yes 00, it seems that this is just a series. I didn't find it.