One man talks to another man on March 8, 2020, through a makeshift barricade wall built to control entry and exit to a residential compound in Wuhan, Hubei, China.

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WUHAN, China – Five years ago this month, when the Chinese government sealed off the city of Wuhan to slow the spread of COVID-19, the acclaimed author Fang Fang began jotting down notes from quarantine and posting them online.

They were raw depictions of life and uncertainty in a closed city, and they were widely read. At first, state media lauded the writing. Soon, though, the authorities turned against Fang Fang, censoring her posts and banning her from publishing. The lockdown posts were later translated by UCLA Professor Michael Berry and published overseas as a book, Wuhan Diary: Dispatches from a Quarantined City.

Chinese writer Fang Fang speaks with media in Wuhan, Hubei, China on Feb. 22, 2020.

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It was not Fang Fang’s first experience with an about-face in official views on her writing. In 2016, she published the novel Soft Burial, about trauma and memory in the wake of China’s Land Reform Movement of the late 1940s and early 1950s, during which the newly empowered Communist Party deposed landlords and distributed rural land to the peasantry. The book won a literary award in China for historical realism; the next year the authorities blacklisted it.

Fang Fang’s notes posted online during the Covid-19 lockdown in Wuhan, China, in 2020 eventually became her book Wuhan Diary.

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As with her musings on the lockdown, Soft Burial will get a fresh audience beyond the reach of China’s censors when it is published in English (also translated by Berry) by Columbia University Press in March. Fang Fang’s 2001 novel The Running Flame (which is not banned in China, but has not been re-published since Wuhan Diary came out) will also be published in English in March.

NPR caught up with Fang Fang at a cafe in Wuhan, her hometown, to discuss writing, censorship and the power of recording history. Below are excerpts from the discussion.

NPR: The issues Soft Burial addresses — memory, forgetting, generational trauma, and similar themes — why did you choose to write about them? How did you come up with the story, and why did you decide to explore these particular topics?

Fang Fang: In fact, the term “soft burial” has two meanings, at least for me. One refers to a custom in eastern Sichuan [province] where it means burying a body directly in the earth without a coffin. A “hard burial,” on the other hand, involves a coffin being placed in the ground. The soft burial symbolizes that there is no afterlife – people buried this way are believed to have no rebirth. In Chinese culture, there is a strong belief in reincarnation, in the idea that one can be reborn into a better life… The second meaning relates to how people tend to bury painful memories and refuse to confront past traumas…

This form of soft burial is also a burial of time. It hides many truths, not just with time, but also because we, as individuals, choose to discard these memories. We abandon them, refuse to remember them. Some truths are buried because people never knew them, as if time itself naturally conceals them. Others are buried because we deliberately choose not to know or remember, and that, too, is a form of burial by time. Time acts as a kind of burial, like earth, and in some ways, it is even deeper and more profound than the earth itself.

Soft Burial is being published in English soon. [Do you] think it’s a good time for it? Is there something you hope American or English-speaking readers will take away from it to better understand this country? What is the most important message you want to convey?

They can learn about the Land Reform Movement, and I still believe that we can forgive those who have forgotten, be more tolerant of those who have forgotten history, and admire those who choose to record and remember these events. Ultimately, it’s about paying attention to the impact the Land Reform Movement had on Chinese society. My hope is that more people will focus on this issue, which, in fact, was not my original intention when I started writing. I didn’t expect this outcome, but now many people are beginning to pay attention and as an author, I feel fortunate. I never anticipated this result, but it came about because of the official censorship of my book. Had it not been censored, people might have just seen it as an ordinary novel. Ironically, censorship actually sparked more interest in the issue, which was an unexpected outcome for me.

Fang Fang’s books Soft Burial and The Running Flame are set to be published by Columbia University Press in March 2025.

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Why do you think Land Reform is particularly important for understanding China today? Foreign audiences, including Americans, are familiar with events like the June 4 incident, the Cultural Revolution, and the Great Leap Forward. Why is Land Reform a key element that they should also understand?

Land Reform is the most important period of history. I believe it is even more crucial than understanding later events because it took place in the early years after the founding of the nation… Understanding this movement is key to understanding why China is where it is today.

China was a country with a strong clan and family-based system. These family clans were deeply intertwined with Chinese history and culture, and their influence was central to understanding why China remained unified for thousands of years. Within these clans, there was always the local gentry – educated and influential individuals who often returned home in their later years, bringing wealth and status. In the villages, while there were certainly many who abused the common people once they gained power, there were also those who acted with kindness. During Land Reform, people’s land ownership determined their fate… Many people were innocent, and they suffered because of their land ownership. In fact, many were wrongfully executed… The Land Reform didn’t just target the landowners; it also resulted in the decimation of the local gentry, weakening the social structure.

The children of the landowners, the intellectuals, and those associated with the old social order were all heavily impacted by this event. During the Cultural Revolution, for example, these people were banned from attending school, and their futures were essentially destroyed. Many excellent and capable people from rural areas were lost to this brutal movement, leading to a generational impact on China’s progress. The consequences of the Land Reform weren’t immediately visible, but they were deep and far-reaching. The destruction of the clan system and the loss of a productive, educated class fundamentally changed China’s social landscape. The impact was so profound that it still affects Chinese society today… It was a violent and cruel reshaping of the nation’s core, one that set the stage for the social, political, and cultural struggles China has faced in the decades that followed.

When you write, it’s at the intersection of art and history; it’s art meant to remember or discuss history. Do you do it because that’s the only way to address these pieces of history, or is it because the impact is greater this way?

Actually, I think you’re overthinking it. I’m just a novelist, writing novels because I’ve been doing it for many years.

One important difference between Chinese writers and foreign writers is that Chinese writers must be very cautious when exploring topics. There are so many subjects to consider, and we need to test the boundaries of what we can write about. We aim to push the boundaries of our writing, to explore just a bit further, so that our creative space can expand. Many writers are engaged in this kind of experimentation, always trying to stretch the limits a little more. For me, this just meant pushing forward with a certain topic.

Is the idea to be critical, or is it to make people think?

My original intention was simply to write a novel, to tell the story of a family and an individual’s fate, which just happens to touch on this subject [Land Reform]. I wanted the topic to be explored more deeply. That was my only aim. The outcome it triggered and my initial goal weren’t something I expected… I didn’t think anyone would critique a novel about it. That was surprising. I also didn’t expect it to be banned – that was unexpected too. It’s just a novel, not something with a broader agenda. It’s simply about recording the fate of a family within a historical event.

Do you think more people should be recording these things, or reflecting on them? Because in the book, some people record, and some choose to forget – most people want to forget. Is that a bad thing? Is that the point – to hold up a mirror and say, “Look, this is what you’re doing”?

I really hope more people start recording, because every individual record is just one perspective. It’s like shining a spotlight on something – you can only see that one spot. But if there are countless spotlights, it’s like having multiple individuals shining their lights on it. The picture becomes three-dimensional, and more of the truth becomes visible. Each individual record can’t be comprehensive, but with the records of many people, the truth of the matter might come to light, revealing more of its essence.

It’s all about perspective… That’s why I want as many people as possible to record their stories – only then can we understand the truth. Only then can we see which approach might be a better, more reasonable one in such a situation.

As a writer, my responsibility is simply to express my thoughts. My personal perspective is in the book, and that’s all I can offer.

But the authorities don’t like it. Obviously, they stopped you from publishing it, right? They don’t think that kind of content is something they want to be seen, right?

Yes, that’s definitely the case. They don’t want to record it this way; they prefer to obscure the matter. The reason for this is that they know they’ve done something wrong. Only when they know they’ve done wrong do they try to cover it up.

If they had been right, they would have turned it into a heroic story or a major achievement, widely publicizing and celebrating it, right? But now, they are using this approach because they clearly know they made a mistake. Anything they try to obscure or cover up is due to their guilt – knowing they were wrong but not wanting to admit it.

Since China lacks a religious tradition, there’s no culture of confession or self-reflection. They don’t have the tradition of personal introspection and awakening, so no one ever looks inward or reflects on their actions.

However, I believe many people are still recording, many people have more detailed historical records, and some will do so quietly, without drawing attention to it. On the surface, it might seem like nothing’s happening but in reality, unlike us writers, they may have many such records of their own.

The authorities don’t like people recording. How do you cope with it?

Since the pandemic, basically all of my works have been banned from publication, and all my old works cannot be reprinted. This is really frustrating. For a writer, when you’re not allowed to publish or release your works, I think it’s a very foolish and low-level approach. It’s a very ignorant and primitive way of dealing with things. But there’s nothing you can do because we live in this environment, and you’re helpless. You don’t even know who is behind the ban. There’s no specific person responsible…

But because they’ve suppressed all my works, I consider this a form of silent violence.

They didn’t give me a reason for their actions…. I mean, if you’re going to take action, at least provide me with a reason. When [Wuhan Diary] was removed … the president of the Writers’ Association didn’t really do anything. The propaganda department took the time to review my work and realized there was nothing wrong with it. They also thought the book was fine. The only issue was the sensitive topics it covered, personal fate, and mainly the pressure of material survival. Even the officials in Hubei seemed to think there was nothing wrong with it, because they were part of it. They knew that the things I recorded were real, and I wasn’t attacking the government – I was actually helping them.

In reality, the greatest role I played was helping the government stabilize the people’s hearts. There were about 9 million people in [Wuhan], and my role was to provide a calming effect. I was telling people what we were going through day by day, as an individual living in the city. I gave them a more truthful account. I didn’t provide grand narratives, because many media outlets praise those, but the public doesn’t believe them. As an individual, I told them what daily life was really like and what the government was doing. I told them how patients were doing in hospitals. Of course, I also criticized the government, pointing out their mistakes and calling for accountability. My main goal was to push for action on the whole situation.

What are you writing about now?

I’m not writing much at the moment; I’m focusing on more relaxed activities. I believe relaxation is also a way of living. You don’t always have to be writing; there’s no need to force it, I’ll write when the time comes. At the same time, I’m collecting some material. Writing truly requires a certain mindset. When I’m in the right state of mind, and I’m truly eager to write, I will put everything aside to do it. For example, when I heard the term “soft burial,” it made me feel like I didn’t want to do anything else, I just wanted to complete that work. But right now, I don’t have that mindset. My current mood is one of frustration and disappointment, because none of my works are allowed to be published, including reprints.

Some people in your situation, if they’re stuck and unable to do what they want, unable to reach their calling, might consider leaving the country. You are one of China’s most successful authors, but you can’t pursue your work as you desire. Will you ever consider leaving the country?

I won’t leave China; I want to witness history here, right? For people like us who work in literature, witnessing history is very important. I want to see where this history is headed – it’s a fascinating thing for me. Right? You use literary works to record society. As a recorder, since I use novels to capture many things, I also want to witness the direction you all are taking. I’m not saying anything else, I just want to make it clear: I won’t leave. Of course, if you force me to go to prison, I’d have to escape. I don’t want to go to jail, I’m not that brave. But if it comes to being shot or imprisoned, I’d escape. For now, if all they do is censor my works, that’s fine – I can still witness history.

The pandemic was already five years ago, though. What about right now? Has the city changed, and have you changed along with it?

I think so.

It’s a kind of normal change. The change we see is only on the surface, but the internal changes, since I’ve retired, I don’t really know what those are. What we see on the surface is that people have moved on, forgotten, and things are no longer talked about. Some relatives have passed away, and there’s nothing that can be done about it – they’re gone, and that’s that.

This change isn’t very clear, but every person has an internal shift, and sometimes when we talk about things, we use it as a reference point. At least it’s a clear time concept. We use terms like “pre-pandemic” and “post-pandemic,” just like how we used to say “before liberation” and “after liberation” when we were children, or “before the Cultural Revolution” and “after the Cultural Revolution”… Now it’s “pre-pandemic” and “post-pandemic.” It becomes a time marker.