The Buddha on Line 1 – This Guy Really Suits My Taste

I just spent some time finishing Li Haipeng’s “The Buddha on Line 1.” I’d bought this book a while ago but had been too busy with exams to read it. Now that all my tests are finally done, I pulled a stack of books I’d bought off the shelf and piled them on my desk to tackle one by one, starting with the unfinished “The Buddha on Line 1.”

I bought it because I’d seen lots of positive reviews on Douban. I always trust Douban, so I found a TXT version online and put it on my phone to read before falling asleep at night. Just the first few essays had already won me over with the author’s wit and sharpness. Continuing with the TXT would’ve been disrespectful to Uncle Li, so I immediately placed an order on Dangdang. That’s how it went.

When I got the book and tore off the bellyband, it turned out to be a thread-bound edition. The real cover was deep blue, and the spine was left untrimmed, like an ancient book. I wonder how Li Haipeng agreed to this unusual binding—maybe it hints that this book is destined to become a classic.

Since the title of this post is “This Guy Really Suits My Taste,” let me say that all my earlier complaints about the strange binding and somewhat critical tone were complete nonsense. I’m here specifically to praise this book, which also fits the Chinese writing tradition of criticizing first before praising. Can I compare this book to “Fortress Besieged”? I have a habit when reading: any book that makes me laugh heartily and gives me something to think about, I compare to “Fortress Besieged.” Of course, this book can’t hold a candle to “Fortress Besieged,” but using it to reflect on society still makes it a good work. This book is a collection of Li Haipeng’s articles from publications like “First Finance Weekly,” “Southern Weekly,” and “Think Tank GQ.” “The Buddha on Line 1” is just one piece in it. In my opinion, that article’s content is fairly ordinary, but the title is catchy. Using it as the book title plays on people’s general curiosity. After flipping through and finding some good articles, I bought the book—bookseller, Li Haipeng, and readers all happy.

If Li Haipeng’s writing is sharp, it’s not because he inserts phrases like “your mom” or “go to hell” here and there. The real sharpness comes from his independent thinking as a writer, his deep reflection and criticism of social phenomena, rather than the mindless praise found in People’s Daily articles. Of course, anyone who can publish in the Southern newspaper group isn’t some professional propagandist—that’s exactly why I like the Southern media group that’s far from Beijing.

There’s one sentence in Li Haipeng’s writing that struck me deeply. I’ve used it in previous articles: “The most terrifying thing in the world is when people lacking common sense, in an environment lacking common sense, are full of confidence in their own abilities, firmly believe in their own value system, and feel deeply proud of their own moral passion.” I’d been struggling to find the right words to describe a certain state of mind—similar to some love I could never quite express. His words perfectly captured some of my views.

He also said: “Many years ago when I was on a BBS, I didn’t get along with some people. I can’t entirely blame them—I was also the type whose cat claws couldn’t stay idle, always wanting to point out idiots. This kind of thing isn’t just boring, it has no end—idiots are like streptococcus, endless and inexhaustible.” Reading this made me laugh. My internet experience is somewhat similar to Li Haipeng’s, but this powerful metaphor was the first time I’d heard it. Okay, first come first served—if any friends say they’ve seen this metaphor somewhere before, I refuse to acknowledge it.

Such witty passages are everywhere in this book. Excerpting them and posting to Weibo would be great. I really wanted to underline them with a pen, but I’m someone who loves books and is a bit lazy, so I didn’t do it.

I’ve seen a saying that the best-selling books nowadays are those written by “angry youth.” According to the fifty-cent army’s view, this book is indeed written by an angry youth because Li Haipeng didn’t practice what Han Han criticized: “So many people are already singing praises, one more won’t make a difference.” I’m not a fifty-cent poster, so I think this book isn’t angry youth at all—it’s just the thinking a normal person should have.