The Evil Son

Hugo Marsan, a French literary critic, reviewed Pai Hsien-yung's novel Nieh Tzu (Sons of Sinners) in France's largest newspaper, Le Monde, praising it as an "opera that grinds tragedy into gold dust."

Marsan described Nieh Tzu as "stunning," possessing the tension and intensity of a legendary story, yet without an imposed optimistic ending. The charm of Nieh Tzu lies not only in its moving plot; the novel's success and power stem even more from the author's writing style, which is rich yet unsettling, like a rising river. He poetically records the authentic atmosphere and then transforms it with a veil of dreamlike night.

Marsan believed that Pai Hsien-yung depicts a marginal world, a margin within the boundaries of what is accepted: "In our kingdom, with its ambiguous history, no one knows who founded it or when it began. Yet, in our extremely secretive and illicit tiny nation, many moving and tragic stories, unspeakable to outsiders, have unfolded over the years."

Nieh Tzu is like a baroque opera, beautifying the night, with a dim red moon hanging in a sky like wet coal. The hidden side of the city at night is so perfectly narrated by Pai Hsien-yung that readers even forget there are places in the world where the sun rises.

Marsan emphasized that in an era lacking psychoanalytic works, Pai Hsien-yung is a true writer, and Nieh Tzu is an outstanding novel.

The "sons of sinners" in the book are fragile children, abandoned on the streets, cast out of their homes, repeatedly runaways, or simply misunderstood. They gather in dimly lit, hidden places, indulging in sex for money, submitting to elders who set beacons for their brief destinies. Ultimately, they find warmth in each other's destined, rough, and fierce tenderness. They stare in awe when they hear a legend from this secret kingdom. These children, though fallen and unconventional, are also emotional and willing to sacrifice; the stories of their predecessors often create a collective identity for them.