This letter was published in 'Unsent Letters 1980 - 1997' by Recto Books in 2001, 4 years after Chien's death. In this letter, the sketchy reason of not sending out the letters he had written was mentioned.
Dear Lisa,
Sorry it took me so long to reply. I have no excuses for this delay than that it simply wasn't time yet. Thanks for sending me such a dramatic picture of Andrei, a wee bit dark though.
There's something I would like to relate. I am surely taking a risk here, the risk of being misunderstood. But judging by your works, and kind of knowing your taste, I have decided to risk it by turning my chaotic, and often, hypothetical, thoughts into words, and show them, first, to you.
Strangely, after returning from the trip for more than a month, I begin to notice that amongst the many people I have got to know, one person that I have really missed is Max. Although, whether in terms of contact time or the amount of interaction, with him, can never be compared to the time I have spent with you, Junior, Nes or even, Mike, and I won't even deny the initial dislike of his personality, the impact of his presence on me can truly be felt by his absence now. Now, I won't blame you if you suspect me as writing a gay confession letter, I couldn't help doubting myself as well. However, when I recently browsed through Allen Ginsberg's journal, and had a glimpse of his fantasy for Neal Cassidy, I am really sure I am not gay, well, at least not physically (by the way, I am really sure, once and for all, that the Beat generation, after reading his journal, is not my cup of tea, but my greatest dislike is still the Hippies, or any form of New-Age Obscurantism). Or maybe... maybe I am gay, if we allow an expanded definition of homosexuality which is beyond the physical or emotional.
Honestly, things would have been simpler and seemingly clearer if I allow myself to just call this an unusual friendship, however, in my opinion, the notion of friendship in current age is terribly tainted by all the marketplace values. Therefore, I would rather the risk letting it be misconstrued as a form of homosexuality, where marketplace values is less willing to penetrate. This back to the idea exemplified by Alexander, the character Tournier's Gemini, the homo and non-utilitarian desire, resisting the trap of procreation.
I tried to identify those elements that cause such admiration, an admiration which came with personal embarassment akin to that of a mild, teenage infatuation, but not idolisation. There are many aspects about him that stood out, but many of us, I know, would rather called it jarring. His attitude and mannerism, his gestures and countenance, his readings and understanding... and the things he told us he did - a lot would have sounded like boasts or exaggerations, but it never sounded like one when he delivered it, although it was never said without tinges of pride and arrogance. For instance, his tour of the fifty temples by foot, from midnight till dawn, had amazed us all, but at the same time, further increase our doubt of his sanity; and the beard and hair he did not cut for 6 years to mourn the disintegration of Soviet Union, touched me personally.
At times, his, comical, geeky behaviour, like you said, reminded us of Mr Bean (whom he doesn't know about, but innocently denied our association. Do you remember him saying, "No, no, I am not... Mr Bean!"?) but he usually appeared as a really serious, bookish man, with too much passion - for the subjects of his interest - for his own good. Passion and seriousness that are offensive to many. He reminds me of intellectuals and writers of earlier generations, although I have never really knew one well enough. But he does feel like one of those I have read about. In short, to me, he is both comical and intellectually enthralling. Perhaps the reason I like him is because I recognised him as the embodiment of the values of the old world that I missed, although, to quote George Steiner, it is a 'nostalgia for a place you have never been.' In him I see the attempts of another world that I only read about, and where academics were not like, for example, that Professor's lecture which was nothing but a display of his family album,to show us the rich and famous he encountered, and his connections. His presence amongst us is definitely awkward, but this awkardness allowed me to understand why we, these sycophantic children of capitalism, full of polite mediocrity, are not the neccessary norm. I don't mean that the rest of us are in anyway lesser, however we definitely do not approach, present or understand things in his way - a way many of us failed to appreciate.
Maybe he is different. and it has got nothing to do with where he is from. But I do think it will be more interesting to see it in relation to his country.
I think I shall end here, it is strange why I broach this subject to you.
I agree to the idea that the perfect letter is an unsent letter, but since the writer himself is an entity of imperfection, producing imperfect prose, the letter has to be sent.
Stay alive,
Chien
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