My Spiritual Homeland
By Wang Xiaobo When I was thirteen, I often stole books from my father’s bookcase to read. At that time, the political atmosphere was tense, and he had locked away all the books that were unsuitable to be left out in the open. In that bookcase were Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Shakespeare’s plays translated by Zhu Shenghao, and even The Decameron. The case was locked, but my elder brother knew how to pick the lock. He also had a way of persuading me to take the risks: You’re young and slight. I don’t think Dad will have the heart to spank you. But in reality, when it came to spanking me, my father didn’t seem particularly gentlemanly, and my hands and feet weren’t agile enough, always giving him the opportunity. In short, we both read the stolen books, but I was the only one who got spanked. That’s how I got to read some books. Though it was unfair, I don’t regret it. ...