This paper offers a close reading of Eileen Chang's novel The Rice Sprout Song, set in rural China during the early 1950s in the aftermath of the Land Reform Movement. The analysis examines how Chang weaves themes of famine, political repression, and interpersonal tension into a narrative that critiques the Communist regime from the inside out. Key areas of focus include the complicated marriage between Gold Root and Moon Scent, the gradual encroachment of starvation on village life, and the surprising ambivalence of local Communist Party leaders. The paper also situates the novel within its historical context, including China's involvement in the Korean War and the pressures placed on rural farmers.
In a foreword written by David Wang, he provides important background for The Rice Sprout Song, an anti-communist novel set in the 1950s, just after the Land Reform Movement had taken place in rural China. The Land Reform was meant to liberate local peasants by redistributing land — "giving" each farmer his or her own plot to own. However, what was intended as a way for farmers to produce more in an already prolific agricultural region instead brought a new threat of famine to the horizon. No one, not even Communist Party members, was permitted to speak about the "deepening misery" that the peasants were forced to endure.
What is striking upon reading the novel is that, on the surface, it should be a story of celebration. There is, after all, a wedding and the impending New Year's festivities — taken just as seriously as, if not more so than, the American New Year. However, Chang has an elegant way of weaving dissent and a persistent feeling that "something's not right" into the narrative, a weight that grows heavier as the story progresses. The relationship between Gold Root and Moon Scent raises constant questions: he clearly loves her, but is it contrary to Chinese social norms or Communist rules to show affection toward a spouse? The people of these villages are also slowly starving to death, and yet life goes on — as if oxygen were being slowly drained from a room and no one realized they were dying; they simply felt tired. Then there is the illuminating portrait of the Communist regime itself, rendered through the officers in charge of village meetings, fees, and daily affairs.
The complicated dynamic between Gold Root and Moon Scent — a young married couple with a child — is central to the novel. There is so much left unsaid between them that it fills the book. From the other couples in the novel, it is clear that marriage in China during this period was not about love; it was about work and survival. For this particular couple, there is an underlying current of anger and tension that is never fully resolved. Gold Root feels fortunate to be married to Moon Scent, yet experiences a deep, aching longing for a woman he already has. In every marriage depicted in the novel, nonsexual intimacy between spouses — whether in public or in private — is socially unacceptable and a source of embarrassment and confusion. Tensions surface when Gold Root recalls visiting his wife in the city and later wishes he had never gone. Conversely, Moon Scent returns to the countryside after three years of working away, and within little more than a day she wishes she had never come back. Their daughter, Beckon, stands between them as the bond that holds them together.
Just when it seems that Moon Scent feels no love or affection for her husband, a single small gesture by each of them solidifies the unspoken bond between them. After a heated and physical altercation, Gold Root goes to bed and refuses to share the blanket with Moon Scent and their daughter despite the freezing cold. In the middle of the night, once she is sure he has fallen asleep, she tucks the blanket around him — and as she does so, Gold Root unconsciously wraps himself around her in an embrace (Chang, 115). This moment powerfully illustrates that women in this world are not as docile as conventional notions of Chinese femininity might suggest. Moon Scent is just as vital a presence and contributor to the marriage as Gold Root, directly contradicting the idea of female passivity. Nor is she alone in this: other married women in the novel similarly display strong opinions, inner conflict, and emotional complexity regarding their husbands and their marriages.
As scholars of Eileen Chang have noted, her fiction consistently explores how political systems bear down on private life and intimate relationships, and The Rice Sprout Song is no exception. The tension within this marriage mirrors the larger tension within the village and the regime.
In most of the relationships in the novel, the underlying tension is rooted in a growing awareness of famine and the question of what is to be done about it. No one is overtly panicked, but hushed conversations take place in private among all members of the village. The wedding that should be a joyful celebration is marked by a meager feast. The only food anyone eats is a thin, watery rice gruel, occasionally supplemented by a stringy vegetable — portions that women are expected to leave for their husbands, though they will sneak some for themselves when no one is watching. The dominant topics of gossip are food and money: who has food (meaning a full bowl of rice rather than gruel), and therefore who has money to buy it.
Historically, China was still fighting in the Korean War during this period (Wang, xv), which was worsening the food shortage. Communist leaders were simultaneously pressuring local officials to produce more food for their soldiers, placing an unbearable burden on farmers who had nothing left to give. A pig is demanded, but no one has a pig; money is demanded in place of food, but no one has money; rice is demanded for military provisions, but people are barely surviving on what little remains. The famine in the novel reads like an oncoming hunger pang that eats through you slowly — beginning imperceptibly, then deepening into tiredness and irritability, until the gnawing hunger becomes unbearable. Before long, people are angry and desperate, and it takes only one person to set off a riot to raid the food storage unit at Communist headquarters in the village.
During this time of imminent starvation, villagers began to remember when the Communist regime had threatened them with "big pot rice" — a system in which all farmers would be forced to pool their harvests into one communal kitchen. Originally used as a scare tactic to pressure citizens into joining the Communist Party, the idea took on a new meaning during the second famine. Farmers began asking about "big pot rice" in earnest, hoping it represented a plan that would allow everyone to eat something more substantial than gruel (Chang, 118).
"Party leaders' guilt, confusion, and complicity"
"Village rebellion and Communist contradictions"
"Hypocrisy of regime and modern relevance"
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