Mo Yan well-deserves his reputation among those in the know as one of modern China's most wonderfully wry writers, as this discomfiting yet compelling novel attests.
Republic of Wine's strength is in its evocative, viciously funny descriptions and depictions and in the symbolic social implications they raise. Centered around a fictitious province in China named Liquorland, the novel portrays China's obsession with food and drink and skewers the extremes to which it is taken by the wealthy and the politically connected (which are often one and the same). There is an expression in Chinese "Chi-he-wan-le" literally "Eat-Imbibe-Play-Joy". In ancient China, the landed and the literati had elaborate rituals and cultures surrounding the consumption of delicacies and fine liquor, which were mingled with the higher arts such as poetry composition, calligraphy, painting, and music. The Cultural Revolution attacked such traditions (among other things), and in its aftermath the finer points disappeared, leaving only its cruder translation: gluttony. Many Chinese know of few entertainments besides food and booze. A Chinese banquet is a grandiose affair, aimed at wasting expensive food and flaunting one's wealth. The higher level the revelers, and the bigger the favors the host is trying to earn, the more obscenely wasteful the dishes. Especially in the 1980s, when government corruption peaked, wining and dining was a popular form of bribery that took a chunk out of the Chinese treasury to the tune of billions of dollars per year. Republic of Wine is beautifully biting in its spoofing of this food obsession, which includes a craving for ever more exotic and expensive foods to impress ones guests with, here taken to the frighteningly logical extreme of serving up braised infants. Mo Yan also mocks the farcical attempt of Chinese men to prove their dubious machismo by "bottoms-upping" toast after toast: the last one standing is the "real man".
Mo's winding, rambling narrative is the book's only shortcoming, which may be deliberate as it flirts with assertions that it was written under the influence. In some ways, the surrealism and sarcasm are overplayed to a degree that makes it difficult to become very involved in the stories. In that regard, it reminds me of the stories of Wang Shuo; the similarity may be partially due to the esteemed Howard Goldblatt, who translated both of Wang's English versions as well as Republic of Wine.