746 Book Reviews argument for an additional definition of Chinese modernity and Shanghai’s place within it, namely “the disruptive and transitory nature of modernity” (p. 18). The Taiping Rebellion, the importance of which runs throughout the book, effectively cut its ties with a bygone era and birthed a new generation of art in Shanghai. What makes Wue’s argument particularly convincing is her contextualization of the Shanghai School of painting within the city’s modernization and social transformation. Perceptively, Wue not only refers the issue to a watershed moment in the history of modern Chinese art but also hints that the Taiping Rebellion is like a ghost, somehow always lurking in the background of art production. With this in mind, we are perhaps better able to understand Shanghai art’s ambiguous tension with the past and its persistent obsession with the “new.” Wue’s gifted sensibilities means that she excels in art appreciation. She focuses her historical study around textual examination rather than developing a theoretical elaboration about visuality, which one may consider a limitation of the book. However, her brilliant decoding of the visual language of particular paintings across genres, formats and media, as well as revealing explanations on their meanings and forms of representations are illuminating. The book demonstrates a capacity to represent typical Shanghai image production, exhibition, and reception in a sophisticated new art world. It is a tour de force for scholars and general readers of modern Chinese art history and culture alike. AI Qing Shanghai Jiao Tong University E‐mail: [email protected] Zhang, Yawen, Cry for Life. Translated by Saul Thompson. Beijing: China Translation & Publishing Corporation. 2014, ISBN: 9781908647504. iv+561pp. £12.00 (paperback). DOI: 10.3868/s010‐005‐016‐0042‐5 Zhang Yawen’s autobiography, Cry for Life, is found in the From Inside China Book Reviews 747 series, which was designed to promote Chinese literature worldwide. Commissioned by the Chinese National Publication Foundation and subsequently published by Aurora Publishing LLC in 2015, Cry for Life presents Zhang’s life as a woman writer fighting for social justice and recognition as the screenwriter of A Chinese Woman at Gestapo Gunpoint (2002). This TV drama series was based on the life of Qian Xiuling (1912–2008), a Chinese‐Belgian scientist who won a medal for saving nearly one hundred lives in Belgium during World War II. Published as Shengming de nahan in 2007, Cry for Life has been well received in China; it won the Xu Chi Reportage Prize in 2008, the Women’s Literature Prize in 2009, and the Lu Xun Literature Prize in 2010. Cry for Life not only helps readers to understand human nature and allows them to gain insight into the lives of contemporary Chinese writers, it also contributes to the scholarship of the autobiography genre. Zhang’s autobiography opens with two deathbed testaments: one for her husband and one for herself. Paradoxically, in the testament for herself, she expresses a strong desire to survive: “You can’t die; you must survive this great trial of life and death” (p. 11)! Clearly her testament is a device used to lament her previous “unhappy lot,” as well as her present life‐and‐death situation (impending heart surgery). While waiting for the operation, Zhang ponders, “When exactly did my heart begin its descent to ruins” (p. 17)? Then, after reflecting on her life, she comes to the conclusion that it was the stressful but “heaven‐given task” of writing the screenplay for A Chinese woman at Gestapo Gunpoint, as well as the subsequent copyright lawsuit she had to file, that led her to this point. Anticipating death, however, becomes a strategy to overcome it. In writing about her own life, she hopes to bring “balance and equanimity” (p. 522) because, with regard to the ownership of her own screenplay, “the legal system was not capable of delivering justice.” In the subsequent chapter, titled “The Inspiration That Brings Fresh Meaning to My Life,” Zhang goes on to explain the process of writing the screenplay and her search for a studio to film it. While recounting the obstacles she faced in Belgium in obtaining firsthand materials for her screenplay, Zhang becomes fully engaged in playing the role of Qian Xiuling’s biographer. In this chapter the reader is able to discern the author’s veneration for the Chinese‐Belgian heroine; at the same time, we are also able to admire Zhang’s skill in conducting interviews, as well as celebrate her .