Castrated Writing and the Editor From Hell

The Literary Saloon points us to a heck of an essay written by the Chinese writer Murong Xuecun, who is protesting government censorship of his work. Xuecun has some rather withering remarks for his nation's censorial regime, as when he discusses his "editor":

I finished this book some time ago, and the most important reason for the delay in its publication was that I came up against a rather peculiar editor. Over the course of two months, he and I had some very interesting verbal duels. I smashed a cup on the floor, I spoke a few strong words to him. I furiously punched the wall at home, but finally I capitulated. This editor is a cautious person. Whatever the circumstances, the first thing he thinks of is safety. In his view, it would have been preferable not to publish my book at all; this would be the safest way. Even if he was forced to publish it, he told me it was best to avoid talking about anything real, because anything real entails risk. If I couldn't avoid touching on a few truths, then I should be sure not to express any opinions about them. The moment I had opinions, I became a danger. I disagreed with him, but, I know he is not the only one to hold this view.

And then later on he uncorks this breathtaking display of verbiage on "castrated writing":

There are journalists here, and perhaps some others, who may report later that I have delivered an angry speech. Well, I am not angry; I am just describing my situation, because I believe it is certainly not just my situation, but the situation faced by all of China's writers. And the fear I feel is not just the fear felt by one writer, but by all of our writers. Unfortunately, I have dedicated great effort to the task of compiling this 'sensitive words glossary,' and I have mastered my filtering skills. I knew which words and sentences had to be cut, and I accepted the cutting as if that was the way it should be. In fact, I will often take it on myself to save time and cut a few words. I call this 'castrated writing' — I am a proactive eunuch, I have already castrated myself even before the surgeon raises his scalpel.

The entire speech is well worth reading as a window into one of the world's more difficult places to publish certain books. And in a strange sort of way, Xuecun's struggles remind us of the importance of translated literature--and world literature in general--as it can offer a home to writing that is deemed unpublishable in certain places. China isn't alone in this, of course. It wasn't so long ago that Lolita could only see the light of day in France, to name just one masterpiece of modern literature originally censored in a Western democratic nation.