Liu Heng - Works

Works

Short Stories

"Dogshit Food" (狗日的粮食) tr. Sabina Knight. In Joseph S. M. Lau and Howard Goldblatt, eds., Columbia Anthology of Modern Chinese Literature. NY: Columbia University Press, 1995, 416-428. ISBN 0-231-08002-6

"Grain." Tr. William Riggle. Chinese Literature (Summer 1990): 3-17.

"The Heated Earthen Bed." trs. Ren Zhong and Yuzhi Yang. In Hometowns and Childhood. San Francisco: Long River Press, 2005, 97-104 ISBN 1-59265-058-9

The Obsessed. tr. David Kwan. Beijing: Panda Books, 1991. (includes "Fuxi, Fuxi" 伏羲伏羲) ISBN 7-5071-0072-3; 083512083X

Novels

Black Snow: A Novel of the Beijing Demimonde (黑的雪). trs. H. Goldblatt. NY: Atlantic Monthly Press, 1993 ISBN 0-87113-530-2

Green River Daydreams: A Novel (Cang He bai ri meng 苍河白日梦). tr. Howard Goldblatt. New York: Grove Press, 2001 ISBN 0-8021-1690-6

Read more about this topic:  Liu Heng

Famous quotes containing the word works:

    Again we mistook a little rocky islet seen through the “drisk,” with some taller bare trunks or stumps on it, for the steamer with its smoke-pipes, but as it had not changed its position after half an hour, we were undeceived. So much do the works of man resemble the works of nature. A moose might mistake a steamer for a floating isle, and not be scared till he heard its puffing or its whistle.
    Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)

    We do not fear censorship for we have no wish to offend with improprieties or obscenities, but we do demand, as a right, the liberty to show the dark side of wrong, that we may illuminate the bright side of virtue—the same liberty that is conceded to the art of the written word, that art to which we owe the Bible and the works of Shakespeare.
    —D.W. (David Wark)

    They commonly celebrate those beaches only which have a hotel on them, not those which have a humane house alone. But I wished to see that seashore where man’s works are wrecks; to put up at the true Atlantic House, where the ocean is land-lord as well as sea-lord, and comes ashore without a wharf for the landing; where the crumbling land is the only invalid, or at best is but dry land, and that is all you can say of it.
    Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)