As India wakes up from the fever dream of the outrageous display of wealth and power that was the Ambani wedding, reading Liu Xinwu’s 1984 novel Zhonggulou or The Wedding Party, is the perfect accompaniment to this madness.
Weddings, for as long as one can remember, have been diverse in their purpose. Besides the union of the bride and groom and their respective families, it has been a prized setting for forging new relationships, upping one’s social status, reliving the past and the struggles that have led to this happy moment, and hoping for a future of happiness and more weddings where the events can be repeated once more, ideally with more grandeur.
The wedding day
Translated by Jeremy Tiang and published by Amazon Crossing in 2021, The Wedding Party is a lively reminder of the importance of weddings, the dreams they fulfil and the aspirations they kindle. The 400-page novel is set in 12 hours (from 5 am to 5 pm) on December 12, 1982, as the Xues prepare to wed their son Jiyue to Xiuya. Auntie Xue wants the wedding to go smoothly – she painstakingly draws up the menu, arranges for alcohol, and prepares for the arrival of the guests. Since wedding planners are unheard of, the success of the event will be dependent entirely on her abilities as a good homemaker and the goodwill of her neighbours. The Xues and their neighbours’s houses are stacked together in the Hutong alleyway of the Siheyuan Courtyard in Beijing’s Drum and Bell Towers district.
Like any family anywhere, Auntie Xue finds a reason to be annoyed with her elder daughter-in-law Zhaoying who hasn’t turned up sharp at 5 am to give her a hand with the preparations. Her elder son is missing too – she’s vexed that he has decided to work all night despite his young brother’s impending nuptials. As the clock ticks along, we learn of the grand arrangements that the family has made. Much like an Indian wedding, Auntie Xue is displeased about inventing certain guests and is fearful of the opinions of certain others. There will be scrutiny, she knows, still, she cannot let tongues wag longer than needed to voice the customary complaints. Everyone is on the edge as they find themselves surrounded by an irritable and often comical crowd of neighbours, parents, children and in-laws. Each of them has a story to tell – all of them grander than life. So when Liu writes, “No one and nothing in Beijing is ordinary, and even their ideas are sacred, more noble,” you can’t help but agree.
The delicious food explained in careful detail and the general merriment of the party do not divert the reader’s attention from the changes looming in China. It is 1982 and even though the Cultural Revolution is over, the guests recount their sacrifices and the commitment of the leaders to change China’s social landscape. The ushering in of Deng Xiaoping’s reform era and finally seeing hopes of a true revolution where the common man will have left their worst days behind, lightens the wedding attendees’ moods as they dive into the lavish spread of meat, alcohol, sweets, and cakes which had been rare commodities until then. The new era of prosperity is also highlighted in the easy availability of coffee (which the Chinese detest) and cream cakes a lá the American way.
The wedding, therefore, transforms into a fabulous occasion where each guest can show off the spoils they have collected in these prosperous times. Colour portraits are clicked, a car and a chauffeur are hired, the groom is gifted a Rado watch. The guests talk among themselves about Japanese electronic gadgets and cheaply made Chinese goods that have made seasonal fashion desirable among the younger generations. It has also led to a small uptick in crimes and cheating, but these are brushed off as proclivities of youth.
Old wounds
However, the older generation still perceives letting go of personal “comforts” as the most supreme form of sacrifice. Hence, it is hardly surprising how Auntie Xue ends up in debt and foregoes essential medication to feed meat to the guests and treat them to American cigarettes. The erstwhile politics of communism have been replaced by socialism, and the recent economic liberalisation has resulted in such superficialness to maintain one’s social status.
The wedding guests, who also double up as a (very) diverse cast of characters, comprise an opera performer, senior diplomats, a sullen-faced grandmother, a country girl visiting Beijing, typical hooligans and wastrels, a professor, a student who has gathered under Auntie Xue’s roof with their dreams and hopes, which are sometimes as trivial as drinking to one’s heart’s content after a long dry spell or setting up a home with a private kitchen and a bathroom.
Life in 1982 was still a remnant of the “old” days – but as the day goes by and more and more guests turn up, Liu shows the discontentment, envy, and resentment that has taken a deep hold within the apparent amiability of the extended network of family and friends. The nostalgia is replaced by each family’s difficult struggles to stay afloat. While the government and social order have changed, the same cannot be said for the common folk who still wait for better days.
In a solemn moment during the wedding, Auntie Xue “sees each of the others as a tragic figure – Ji Zhiman is pathetic, Mu Ying is lonely, the Xues got burgled, the bride is resentful, Han Yitan is indecisive, Tantai Zhizhu feels inadequate.” Through these brief descriptions of some of the guests (and hosts), Liu conveys the troubled sentiments of a changing society.
Towards the end of the novel, Liu beautifully philosophies on the eternity of time. As communities come together and part ways, governments rise and fall, and marriages are committed to and broken up, the only thing that stands true for all is the passage of time: “Bell and Drum Towers will remain as eternal witnesses to history and destiny…The two towers stand tall eternally awaiting the next moment, the next day, the next month, the next year, the next generation”.
The Wedding Party is one of the most immersive novels I have read in a while – the long winding backstories of each character, the social commentary that emerges from a seemingly ordinary wedding, and the quick dips into Chinese political history make us realise how deeply our internal lives are affected by external factors that are often beyond our control. The personal is political – it always has been and always will be.
Jeremy Tiang’s translation from the Mandarin animates the joyous wedding with bright strokes of colour, and as the party concludes, you are quite sure you have feasted on the candies, braised pork, dumplings, and noodles, drank a little too much, smoked what you weren’t supposed to, and just about escaped the many showdowns without too many scratches.
The Wedding Party, Liu Xinwu, translated from the Mandarin by Jeremy Tiang, Amazon Crossing.
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