China in Ten Words by Yu Hua: review Traditionally, writers like Lu Xun and Yu Hua have had a duty to speak out against abuses of power, even when they have to pay the price for doing so. "When in this book I write of China's pain," Yu Hua says, "I am registering my pain too, because China's pain is mine." In some cultures, this might sound grandiose; for a Chinese writer, it's quite natural. Still, another of Yu Hua's words, "disparity," captures the strange contrasts between Yu Hua's world and that of his predecessors. Like Lu Xun, Yu Hua is still subject to censorship (this book won't be published in China, for instance), but he can also blog and reach out to the 400 million Chinese now on the internet, travel to literary festivals around the world and converse with writers such as Pankaj Mishra. He's become an anomaly: a cosmopolitan citizen of an illiberal, globalising state. Of all 10 words, the most resonant is shanzhai. Allan Barr's supple translation renders this as "copycat," which is pretty good, but perhaps loses some of the sly complicity of a word that you hear everywhere today in China's cities: "Shanzhai iPhone kanguo ma?" - "Have you seen my counterfeit iPhone?" The word mostly refers to fakes, from contaminated milk powder to counterfeit Gucci, but Yu Hua connects it to a wider lack of authenticity felt throughout China, the corollary of the brash new confidence. Officials reflect this concern about spiritual emptiness with their talk of reviving Confucianism, fearing that China has abandoned too much of its traditional culture. Yu Hua playfully illustrates the ultimate shanzhai response to this wider fear: Chairman Mao impersonators have become big business in China, complete with octagonal caps and carefully stuck-on fake moles on their chins. Yu Hua does not mention Bo Xilai, the party secretary of Chongqing who fell from grace so spectacularly earlier this year. But Bo's downfall was in part because of his attempt to create nostalgia for the "good old days" of Maoism and create a charismatic cult of personality for himself within the Party. He too was a "Mao impersonator," although as it turned out, a shanzhai one. Yu Hua's 10 words don't capture the whole of China by any means: the country's economic growth and wider international presence make only a fleeting appearance here. But the humane, sceptical voice in this fascinating book succeeds in sidestepping the perils of huyou (bamboozling) and gives the reader a real connection to China's caogen (grassroots). China in Ten Words Yu Hua Trans Allan H Barr Duckworth, £16.99, 225pp