THE annual Shanghai Book Fair concluded on Tuesday with more than 700 literary events encompassing subjects like science and technology, philosophy, history, eroticism, as well as art and literature. Yao Minji picks some highlights where writers, artists, economists and scientists shared their views on a range of topics.

UNDERSTANDING contemporary art

As art exhibitions continue to become a regular part of urban life in cities like Shanghai, museums and galleries are hosting contemporary art exhibitions by artists from all over the world.

Art professors and curators came together to answer the question, “Why can’t we understand contemporary art?”

One of them, Lu Peng, is an associate professor at the China Academy of Art and curator of the Chengdu Museum of Contemporary Art.

What does understanding mean?

Lu: There are different levels of understanding. One level is that we like it, so we understand it. Another level is that we understand the message the artist wanted to deliver through his work. And you can also understand it by getting inspired from the work and generating your own ideas, which may not be the same as what the artist had in mind when they created the works.

What is the nature of understanding?

Lu: It is not whether we like or dislike what’s in front of us. It is to recognize and differentiate. The nature of understanding is extending our knowledge. It is different from extending knowledge in literature, which is through words. For art it is through images and through materials. You need to analyze it, interpret it and even develop it.

Needham’s Grand Question

Scientists and science professors were invited to discuss science education in China, during which they also delved into the past with the question, “How did the West overtake China in science and technology despite its early advancements?”

Known as Needham’s Grand Question, it was once famously put forward by British scientist and sinologist Joseph Needham.

One panelist was Rao Yi, dean of the School of Life Sciences at Peking University, who is best known for his critical views on the state of science and science education in China.

He spoke with Jiang Xiaoyuan, dean of the School of History and Culture of Science at Shanghai Jiao Tong University.

Jiang specializes in research on science exchanges and comparative studies between the East and West.

Rao: The question is flawed because there was no science in ancient China, hence it could not be overtaken later. Since ancient times, Chinese has always been more focused on non-science subjects because they were the only ways to become a government official, which was the ultimate goal of many Chinese students through the centuries.

This tradition was broken around the “cultural revolution” (1966-76), when well-known scholars were condemned and many people went on to study more pragmatic science subjects. But in recent years, science, again, has become less attractive to young students. They prefer finance, business, or management majors as it can bring them money and fame more easily.

Jiang: I agree that the “Needham Grand Question” is a hypothesis and not entirely factual because the question assumes great science existed in ancient China, which is arguable.

Does it exist? I’ll say it depends on how you define science. If you refer to modern science, which is a Western idea that originated in Greece, then you are correct. There was no science in ancient China, at least not like the systematic science of today.

But does that mean China had no technology? Of course not.

For example, we all know Hooke’s Law is why archery works. Did Emperor Qin Shihuang understand this? No. But it didn’t stop him from having some of the best archers in his army.

Another great example is traditional Chinese medicine, which treated and cured Chinese for thousands of years before Western medicine entered the country. People today still find it difficult to explain TCM using modern science, but it surely has worked all these years and is still working. Does that mean it is not science and technology?

I also think students’ general preference for non-science majors is not purely a Chinese problem. It is worldwide. You can make money more easily as a finance major, while you have to be a top scientist to reach the same level of fame and money. Students know this.

Science is a tool. We need scientists, but we don’t need every Chinese to study science. We don’t even have to require all of them to love science.

Eroticism through the written word

Peter Esterhazy, a mathematician-turned-writer and one of the best-known contemporary Hungarian authors, is widely translated and read around the world.

He was invited to the book fair to talk about “She Loves Me,” one of his most-loved works, and share his thoughts on eroticism in literature. In this book, which has been translated and published in Chinese, 97 types of relations between men and women are described.

Esterhazy: Eroticism is not a problem for literature. That’s fortunate. If you write about men and women in bed in a novel, it’s not pornography. Many great books include erotic elements. In this way, I hope my books, or all good books, will become more erotic in terms of how to describe human bodies. Where is the limit? Where is the social taboo?

In my novel, I tried experimenting with describing human bodies and it was very difficult because I couldn’t find a tradition of that in Hungarian literature. I didn’t know where I could learn from or refer to in this respect.

Our current challenge is how we really look at the human body, which is different from how people perceive it in their brain.

We have seen many body-related images from erotic films or war movies, such as images of corpses.

How can you write and describe the body in a graceful and peaceful way after you have experienced or seen such images?

I think it is very important to rediscover innocence in erotic writing even though such innocence may be lost again.

Using literature to critique society

Austrian writer Thomas Bernhard is widely considered one of the most important and controversial German-speaking authors in the postwar era.

Many of his works, including “Old Masters: A Comedy,” “Wittgenstein’s Nephew” and “Heldenplatz,” have recently been translated and published in Chinese.

Theater director Cao Kefei, art and literature critic Sun Mengjin and film critic and playwright Shi Hang discussed his works and the implications for Chinese readers.

Cao: His novels give me the sense that we are equal and close. I don’t see him as a writer, but rather an ordinary person who has been telling us many sad stories. I feel very close to him.

But it is very different watching his plays, which have been adapted by others. The first time I saw one of these adaptations was back in the 1990s, and it was very exaggerated and stereotypical. I didn’t like it. Now many directors are adapting his plays and novels again.

Sun: Many writers really like him, including Nobel Prize winner Ferit Orhan Pamuk, who said Bernhard molded successful characters who refused to bow down to illness, failure or injustice. They fight with rage despite the catastrophic results.

I often feel the same when reading his novels. He is also brave to show his own bad side. He is somewhat of a paradox because he must have been extremely sensitive while also strong like a fighter at the same time.