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LQM: You
wrote: "Memoirs are like smokescreens covering truths.
If they are not meant to mythologize the writer, often
they are for self-justification; nobody writes a memoir
with the aim of self-depreciation. It takes a heroic
heart and moral courage for one to engage in
self-criticism and also to accept responsibility for
one's mistakes." (12)
What do you think when
scholar Nguyen Hien Le says: "I was so naïve!", on page
23 in his Hoi Ky III
(Memoir III), published by Van Nghe in 1988
(13) ? |
NTV:
I meant to refer to those memoirs with political content, and in
that connection I very much appreciate the statement made by
David Halberstam, author of many books on the Vietnam War: "Memory
is often less about the truth than about what we want it to be."
(David Halberstam, in the New York Times).
As to Mr. Nguyen Hien Le, he has
never engaged in politics; rather as a pure scholar he worked
conscientiously for more than 35 years to produce more than 100
books, and his illustrious personality has been respected by
everyone. His memoir written after 1975 captures the shattered
dreams of an intellectual living in South Vietnam who before
that date sympathized with the Resistance and also admired the
communists, and who after only 5 years under the communist
regime awoke in hurt and pain to what he witnessed firsthand.
There is no smokescreen, for his is a memoir of truth.
LQM: Through your
works, you are a writer of dreams, of conscience, and of
society. In your view, how must a person live his life in
society in turmoil as it is at present when "the sea of
suffering is so immense that when you turn your head you cannot
see the shores". (14)
NTV:
You asked about "how a person must live his life in society in
turmoil as it is at present". To me, everyone will look for an
answer himself in relation to his own circumstances. If you
think to live means to live with others, let's wait and see how
mankind in this new century will act in face of the catastrophe
when "there is no one left in the whole of Africa". Would we
choose to save dying mothers and children, or to protect the
interests of those big companies that continue to produce AIDS
drugs for another two decades until their patents expire?
Your question also reminds
me of my prison days when, outside the time spent in growing
vegetables or chopping firewood, I tried to keep my mind active
by studying classical Chinese from the fellow prisoner who lay
next to me, who had been a math professor at the Military
Academy before 1975. He was very smart, his instructions
methodical, moving from basic roots of Chinese characters to
analysis of meaning of new words containing those roots. Thanks
to his methods, by the time I left the re-education camp I had a
fair vocabulary.
But now, all such language
skills have been given back to the teacher so to speak, except
for a few words I can never forget because they bear the imprint
of a certain state of mind during that time.
"The sea of suffering is so immense that when you
turn your head you cannot see the shores.”
LQM: You wrote: "The war
brought about many pleasant and accidental encounters." When
the war ended, did you have any other pleasant and accidental
encounters?
NTV: In war, love and death
are entwined. Two things greater than all things are: the
first is Love; and the second, War." And war is death. So
wrote Rudyard Kipling.
Just before Mua He Do Lua, The Red
Fiery Summer of 1972 that inflicted great damage and suffering
on Central Vietnam, a teenage girl who served coffee in a small
shop located in an area bordering the Central Highlands, as if
stricken by lightning fell in love at first sight with 2nd
Lieutenant Hoang in our unit. She expressed her love through
the melodious and sad singing voice of the famed Thai Thanh in
the song "Don't Leave Me Alone".
The next day, Lieutenant Hoang was
inserted into the enemy's terrain to spy on them, and clashed
head on with the enemy as soon as he touched the landing zone.
His corpse was not recovered until two days later. When evening
came, in the coffee shop we heard the same voice of the same
singer, but this time choked with tears in "You Have Returned in
a Poncho".
If we think of encounters like
that as interesting and pleasant, then it is "Thu Dau Thuong"
(The Pleasure of Hurt and Pain, from Duong Kien's poetry) during
wartime. But it was not always sorrowful like that: military
operation should have meant homesickness away from home; but for
the sergeant in charge of provisions for our unit, no matter
where in all four corps tactical zones our operations took us,
he needed only a very short time to find a home provided him by
a woman!
LQM: In your first work May
Bao (Storm Clouds), on page 58, you wrote: "Perhaps love dreads
layers of fat and measurements of girth." Was the statement
drawn from a medical or an aesthetic point of view?
NTV: As I remember, when
you asked: "Was the writer Doan Quoc Sy himself in pain then?"
quoting a sentence in his work Khu Rung Lau (The Reed
Forest Area), the writer himself answered that it refers only to
the emotion of a character in the book, not expressing the
sentiment of the author. In the same manner, "dreading
layers of fat and measurements of girth" is simply a view
unfolding in personality development of a minor character named
Hoat in the novel May Bao. All the more it is not
from a medical viewpoint, because that would be unethical in
terms of professional ethics.
LQM:
You also wrote elsewhere:
"I am very fond of painting." (18)
Would you please tell us about the
artists and the painting schools you like most?
NTV: Painting is another
way of looking at life. I had a long-standing friend of 40
years who was a painter. We were different from each other in
many ways, but we were close friends. I love his big oil
paintings where, other than brushstrokes, what I like most are
empty spaces marked with impressive delicate blocks of color.
"An artist creates the right stroke in his painting from some
where between two wrong strokes in life." Only, it's
regrettable that this painter friend did not create many
works. He was artist Nghieu De, and he is no longer with us.
LQM:
Please share with us
your views concerning the Nobel Prize for literature in 2000
given to Gao Xingjian for his work
Soul Mountain.
NTV: Those books with the
label Nobel Prize from Stockholm attached to them are not
necessarily among the 100 excellent works produced in the 20th
century. I enjoyed reading a few fine excerpts from
Soul Mountain, but the work did not greatly move me.
LQM:
"Trifling skills in language were not what made good works of
literature; what was important was a fiery ardor in writing,
which existed only in the younger generation."
(17) In light of
that statement of yours, what do you
think about prominent young authors at present like Dinh Linh,
Andrew Pham, Le Minh Ha…?
NTV: It’s true that
trifling skills in language manipulation sometimes create
beautiful lines of words. But truly good and timeless writings
must carry contents full of humanity, which contents demand
profound knowledge and vision from the writer. As for the
talented authors you mention, I hope they will persevere in
order to finish great works that we are waiting for.
LQM: From your point of
view, what difference is there between a well-known author who
practices medicine and a physician whose works of literature are
recorded in literary history?
NTV: Literature enriches
the medical profession and, conversely, in medical practice
"everyday one is in touch with those selves that are not
oneself". The two fields have reciprocal impact on each other.
In his work Viet va Doc Tieu Thuyet (Writing and Reading
Fiction), when discussing Truth, Goodness and Beauty as
aesthetic values, Nhat Linh mentions the art of cooking, which
implies that in whatever field of activity one can always bring
his job to the level of art, and time provides the most severe
and fair evaluation.
LQM:
If there were some power that
prevents or forbids you from writing, how would you react?
NTV: Using force to stop an
author from writing in the long run only begets a reverse
consequence. But "self-restraint" -- that is, knowing when to
stop -- is a form of freedom for a writer, insuring that he
doesn't write meaningless lines of words having contents
disagreeable to himself. "If one does not oppose something,
then at least one should not support whatever contributes
fertile soil for the evils in life." That is a line in a
letter written by a writer friend when he was about to reach 70,
after a meeting at the end of another year.
LQM:
You have just completed a
journey to Laos. Can you tell us the purpose of the trip? And
what are your thoughts about that country at the present time?
NTV: It was a field
research trip, or more accurately speaking, the purpose was to
see firsthand the reaches of the Mekong River in upper Laos not
very far from the cascade of giant dams in Yunnan.
Deterioration of the River has been faster than I imagined.
Moreover, given that the country, which is only one third the
size of Texas, is hurriedly embracing "Renovation", receiving
more than 600,000 tourists a year, having AIDS and HIV
epidemics, and a drug problem, you come away with the general
impression that Lao society is in danger of becoming damaged by
capitalism.
LQM:
In your opinion, in an
interview where the interviewee is a scientist or an author who
has written works focusing on research related to historical
fact, should we pose questions concerning love and happiness in
family life (the human aspect of life)? If we should pose those
questions, would you care to answer them? If we shouldn't, then
why not?
NTV: Medical practice is a
busy profession; writing and being passionate about writing, is
a second busy preoccupation. Those two involvements take up
much time from the 24 hours of everyday life. In the hope of
being able to continue with these long chosen paths, surely one
needs understanding, cooperation, and to a certain extent even
sacrifice from one's family, and that is something one cannot
have all the time.
LQM:
Thank you, author Ngo The
Vinh.
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