Do Not Say We Have Nothing has such richness of language, theme and story that it’s hard to know where to begin. Connections between family and friends; music in one’s life and culture; stories and the recording of them; loss, grief and memory; the cost and the need of revolution – Madeleine Thien treats these with compassion, subtlety and ambiguity, but she leaves it for the reader to determine their significance.
Thien writes with emotional intensity that brings a reader into the character’s struggles, whether it’s in the nationalist war for the independence of China, a family victimized by politicized mobs in the “Cultural Revolution” or young people trying to correct the errors of the Communist Party at Tiananmen Square. In the context of these vast social movements, Thien also deals movingly with individuals trying to relate to each other as friends, family members and colleagues. And she explores the inner lives of her characters as they try to express themselves through stories, music, even mathematics.
For me, the themes about revolutionary change are among the most interesting, and unusual, in a novel. The great hardships of the war to free China from Japanese occupation, and then to install the Communist government, are the starting point of the novel’s histories. Music and stories help connect people and help them deal with the hardships. Skipping over the starvation of the “great leap forward,” the novel then takes up the “great proletarian cultural revolution.” We see this from the point of view of its victims, who are manipulated into destroying each other as political factions fight for control of the state. Here, revolution seems completely destructive down to the soul and psyche of those involved – much like the ultimate betrayal by Winston Smith in 1984. Music and stories are wiped out.
This gets reversed in the Tiananmen uprising, when we see the passion for change on the part of the students, and also of the residents of Beijing and throughout China. Again, this has extreme costs but Thien also brings the reader into the hopes and energies of those affected by the uprising, and shows the great creativity it unleashed in music and writing. (I found this section particularly fascinating, as it shows the involvement of ordinary people across China in supporting the students, something that I wasn’t aware of before. If it’s an accurate picture, it’s easy to see why the party bureaucracy repressed the Tiananmen revolt so viciously.)
This is where the title becomes clear – it seems to mean: Do not say we have nothing when we have our links to each other that keep us moving ahead, even when it seems we have nothing else.
Interweaving all of this makes for complex writing, so the book is a slow read. But Thien’s writing is so evocative, that I was happy to give it plenty of time. It’s both beautifully descriptive and allusive, so it’s worth a little contemplation to see what the writing reveals about the characters and the story. Like poetry, rushing through the text would miss its richness and meaning. Also, since it’s open to interpretation, I think every reader will take a different understanding of the story.
For example, the Book of Records is never explained, but it seems to represent both creativity and history, inspiring and connecting people, but repressed by the Party regime. Like the creativity of the musicians, its survival is the possibility of renewal in spite of censorship and repression.
Initially, I wasn’t sure I would like the book. But Thien’s storytelling is so engaging that she overcame my resistance, and I completely fell for the story. ( )

This book falls into the category of being both wonderful and challenging to read. It's very complex, and Thien definitely assumes her readers are smart enough to connect the many dots. It's lengthy, dense, and slow to read. That being said, I loved it. Her writing is so thought provoking, and I learned a lot about Chinese history. Frankly, I'm shocked this book didn't actually win the Man Booker prize over [b:The Sellout|22237161|The Sellout|Paul Beatty|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1403430899s/22237161.jpg|41610676].

A few tips if you decide to take this book on. First, Wikipedia has a family tree. Honestly, in the beginning it is a little hard to track the relationships. It's really not that hard once you get the hang of it, but it does distract you from the storyline when you keep thinking to yourself, "now who is that person's father?").

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Do_Not_Say_We_Have_Nothing#/media/File:Do_Not_Say_...

You're welcome.

Second, I really knew almost nothing (to the point of it being embarrassing) about Chinese history. Fortunately, my husband is like a living breathing history textbook able to provide a wonderful summation at a moment's notice. In case your spouse isn't, the link below is a very fast, easy reference about the time period in question. Well worth the five minutes it takes to read.

http://www.china-mike.com/chinese-history-timeline/part-14-mao-zedong/

So what's the book about? Everything. Love, loss, oppression, heroism, identity. It's epic in scope (covering three generations) and heartbreaking in its details. There's a thread of music woven throughout the story, and frankly I know little about classical music, but I'd love to re-read this and listen to some of the music referenced. I suspect that this book is one that would stand up very, very well to re-reading . . .now that I know the characters and how they fit together, I would be able to focus more on the language and other aspects of the book that make it so rich. ( )

Initially set in Canada, Li-Ling (aka Marie) tries to understand what led to her father’s suicide. This goal takes her back multiple generations to the Cultural Revolution in China. Her investigation is assisted by Ai-Ming, a young woman who has fled China in the aftermath of the Tiananmen Square. These two young women find that their family histories are interconnected.

It is an ambitious undertaking, a sweeping story of two families with ties to Chinese musicians. During the Cultural Revolution, people in the arts became a target for “reeducation through labor.” It gets at the heart of the artist, trying to hold onto their love of music and art while surrounded by an increasingly restrictive society.

Thien writes beautifully, with an emotional intensity. It is not a quick or easy read and requires the reader’s focused attention to keep track of the many individuals, family relationships, and historical events. I was particularly riveted by the dramatic account of the Tiananmen Square protests. I appreciated the numerous references to classical music and literature.

It is a story of the impact of historical events on the individual, and the many types of tragedies they experienced. It is also a poignant story of trying to preserve the essence of that which makes life worth living. It is a story of great love and great loss. It is ultimately a story of refusing to accept the denial of self (such as self-expression, identity, prior allegiances, and personal interests) required by the Party. ( )

It was the best book of 2018 for me. In fact, it was so good that I read in September, and then in December 2018 started reading it again.

For some unfathomable reason I felt I needed this story in my life again, I needed Zhuli, and Sparrow, and Kai, and Marie, and Ai-ming, and all of its profound sadness.
And sad it is, painfully so. Sometimes when I was on my way to my reading nook, anticipating an hour or so of a quiet reading, I would remember which book exactly awaited me, and every time it broke my heart a little bit, because I knew what kind of story was there.

Partly, I think, it was so painful for me because it hit too close to home. I too was born in a communist state, my country too went through a horrible totalitarian regime (and still does, in a way, though in its 'lighter' version). The heartbreaking story of the communist China was much too similar to the story of my country in the 20th century, and too many people suffered and were lost forever here too. We also used to scream out the political slogans about our bright future and destroying the past, we used to hate and ruin our neighbours for having slightly more that we had, we believed in one crazy fantasy after another, forgetting (or not being able) to actually live for ourselves and just be human.

And no matter how many times I read about stuff like that, I always, still, feel this all-consuming fury at the country (whichever country it is) that at some point decided that it didn't exist for its people but the people existed for it. That they were nothing more than means to get whatever the hell the idiotic state decided it wanted to have.

But I digress.
The book is full of music and I know nothing about music. None. Nada. Ok, maybe something of Shostakovich and Prokofiev, because they are part of my culture, but still i'm mostly illiterate when it comes to classical music.

Anyways, for the first time round (for the first read it is, in September) I was too lazy to look up the musical pieces the author mentioned. I just kept reading on.

This time round I'm in no haste to get to the end anymore, so I pace myself and I actually LISTEN. And oh my god, it's like ten more layers opened up for me (each one sadder than the other) that I never knew were there.
The music really complements the story, guiding you emotionally through the feelings of our characters and different moments in their life.
One particular moment comes to mind right now. It's when Marie visits China and listens with Tofu Liu to that one existing record of Zhuli and Kai performing "From the Homeland". The first time I read it - I just read it. I understood how sad it was for Marie to listen to those long gone voices, to miss the father that would never return, to cry over their lost youth and shattered hopes. I realized all that, I did.
But this time, I also put the record on.
And I cannot tell you just how much it broke my heart, just how much it broke me. I didn't just understand all those things mentioned above - I felt them. In a way it was a horrible experience, but it made the book so, so much more deep and real and scary and amazing and universal and did i say real?..

I wouldn't say everyone must listen to the music mentioned in the book, I know it's often almost impossible to pause especially when the book is so, so captivating. But, I guess, if you have patience or you have time or you too read it for the second (or seventh) time, then maybe try to have the music accompany the story.
It will break your heart though, it definitely will. ( )

I could not get into this book, read 75 pages then I gave up.