Zhang Dachun: an amateur writer who goes his own way

Not just for the purpose of knowing some Chinese characters

Zhang Yi, Zhang Dachun’s youngest daughter, studies music in Taipei. Like most children, she does not like practicing the piano. When taking her home from school, Zhang Dachun spends 25 minutes explaining the origin and multiple meanings of the word “practice.” According to Zhang Dachun, “practice” not only implies “doing repeatedly,” but also means “the anniversary of a parent’s death.” After that, Zhang Dachun would tell her daughter with a straight face, “It is time to practice piano,” and Zhang Yi would say with a smile on her face that it is not the time to ‘practice’ it, not yet.” At this time, Zhang Dachun cannot help but mock himself, “Anyway, she has remembered a Chinese character.”

He always seeks all kinds of chances and even set up “traps” in order to explain Chinese characters to his son and daughter. Sometimes, his children say, “We have been brainwashed by him again.”

Five years ago, Zhang Dachun and his family moved to Taipei because he planned to send his son to a primary school there. A newspaper editor who wanted to solicit contributions from him asked, “What are you doing at the moment?” In response, Zhang said frankly, “I am now taking care of my children.”

“Then, you can write about your experience in childcare.”

Zhang Dachun hated the stereotype of “I am a good dad” in the past, but now he has changed his mind, writing a special column by describing his experiences of explaining the meaning of Chinese characters to his children, mixed with the sweetness within family, the tricks and the mischief.

Later, he incorporated his experiences into a book entitled “I Know Some Characters. “I am serving the public,” said Zhang Dachun, pointing to the book.

Now, pens and pencils have been replaced by computers, writing Chinese characters has become a legend and memory, and researching the origin and evolution of Chinese characters has become a elusive thing. Zhang Dachun’s move is fighting against oblivion.

Therefore, he practices calligraphy every day. In order to understand the abstract concepts of Chinese poetry, he wrote several classical poems every day for 11 consecutive years. Sometimes, when he is writing poems at home, his youngest son will come over and say, “Are you working on poetic rhythms again?”

But Zhang is energetic, not showing agedness. When talking with reporters, in addition to using quotations from classics, he occasionally complains about things with “bad” words, showing he is not a bookworm.

Before writing I Know Some Characters, another of his book entitled Listening to My Father was introduced into the Chinese mainland. Zhang wrote this book on the basis of his experience in taking care of his father who had fallen down and injured himself. The book received attention from writers such as A Cheng, and is passionately defined as “a family’s story saved from oblivion, and the homesickness and fate of generations of Chinese people.”

The two books have something in common. They link ancestors and their descendants, history and heritage. Zhang Dachun leaves a temperate, kind, courteous, restrained and magnanimous impression to the Chinese mainland readers. However, this is only one aspect of his multiple roles and personalities. Many years ago, Zhang Dachun was an “urchin,” a rebellion against reality and avant-garde writer.