1. Introduction
In the works The Seventh Day and The Great Blue Yonder, Alex Shearer and Yu Hua respectively construct spiritual realms embodying their outlooks on life and death through echoing narratives. “Echoing narratives” can be defined as a narrative technique where elements such as themes, symbols, or character experiences in a literary work resonate with and reflect each other, creating a cohesive and multi-dimensional story. According to the article “Narrative Echoes: A Key to Unraveling Literary Complexity” by Smith and Johnson (published in Journal of Literary Studies, Volume 35, Issue 2, 2022), echoing can occur at various levels, including plot, character, and theme. It serves to reinforce certain ideas, deepen the reader’s understanding of the story’s significance, and create a sense of unity within the text. For example, in The Seventh Day, the recurring “bench” motif acts as an echoing element. It not only symbolizes different aspects of love and relationships for different characters but also ties together various plot points related to Yang Fei’s emotional journey. Intertextuality, another relevant concept, refers to the way texts are interconnected with other texts. As discussed in “Intertextuality in Contemporary Fiction: A Cross-Cultural Perspective” by García and Lee (published in Comparative Literature Review, Volume 48, Issue 3, 2023), intertextuality can involve direct references, allusions, or the borrowing of themes and structures. Yu Hua’s The Seventh Day shows intertextuality with Alex Shearer’s The Great Blue Yonder. Yu Hua subtly references elements from The Great Blue Yonder, such as the exploration of the afterlife realm, while also infusing his own cultural and philosophical perspectives. Foreshadowing is a technique where the author hints at future events in the story [1]. In The Seventh Day, certain descriptions might foreshadow Yang Fei’s later experiences. As explained in “The Art of Foreshadowing in Modern Literature” by Brown and Green (published in Literary Aesthetics Journal, Volume 22, Issue 1, 2021), foreshadowing can be achieved through dialogue, imagery, or plot-related details. For instance, early descriptions of Yang Fei’s state of mind or the strange environment he encounters might foreshadow the more profound and complex experiences he will have in the afterlife [2]. These techniques all contribute to the richness and depth of the narrative in The Seventh Day and its engagement with the themes of life and death.
2. The Foreshadowing and Echoing
In Yu Hua’s The Seventh Day, the seven chapters are titled after the first to the seventh day following protagonist Yang Fei’s death. The title page quotes Genesis in the Old Testament: “By the seventh day, God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work.” The entire narrative unfolds from Yang Fei’s perspective as a wandering spirit in the afterlife. As a ghost, he encounters his deceased ex-wife Li Qing, adoptive father Yang Jinbiao, neighbors Liu Mei (“Mouse Girl”) and Wu Chao, the parents of his tutoring student Zheng Xiaomin, Zhang Gang, a man surnamed Li, wet nurse Li Yuezhen, and Xiao Qing. The story enriches its content through a linear afterlife narrative interspersed with flashbacks and supplementary accounts of Yang Fei’s past. This narrative approach forms a closed loop around Yang Fei’s journey [3]. The structure not only ties the plot to the biblical seventh-day motif but also weaves a complex tapestry of memory and existence through the protagonist’s encounters.
In The Seventh Day, the “bench” motif recurs as a powerful device for foreshadowing and thematic resonance. In the opening chapter, protagonist Yang Fei reflects on his final moments alive. Consumed by exhaustion, he sits down, unsure if he is resting on a chair or a stone. His body trembles, likened to an overloaded ship on turbulent waters. In the second chapter, Yang Fei wakes up to hear Li Qing’s calling voice. He finds himself seated on a decaying wooden bench. The bench’s fragility is palpable, yet it feels reassuringly stable. Later, in the fourth chapter, when reunited with neighbor Liu Mei, they sit on an imaginary wooden bench during their journey. Liu Mei, fatigued, yearns to lean on Yang Fei’s shoulder but stops herself. She acknowledges he is not the one she desires. Yang Fei suggests she rest against the bench’s backrest instead.
This exchange echoes an earlier memory from Yang Fei’s courtship with Li Qing. The two once strolled hand-in-hand through the night and spent hours sitting on a park bench. In that intimate moment, Li Qing leaned on Yang Fei’s shoulder, and they shared their first kiss—a scene that establishes the wooden bench as a symbol of romantic intimacy. Yu Hua employs the wooden bench as a nuanced metaphor for love. In the first chapter, as Yang Fei reaches the end of the “Path of Memories”, his yearning for a seat does not focus on the utilitarian stools of the funeral parlor, which symbolize class divisions. Instead, his mind returns to the park bench that held his affection for Li Qing. Similarly, when Liu Mei requests to sit on a wooden bench during their search for the “place without a burial ground”, she highlights its warmth and impermanence. Unlike cold, hard benches made of cement or iron, wooden benches—though less durable—provide a softer, more human touch. This reflects the transient yet profound nature of love.
In The Seventh Day, the wooden bench embodies dual, contrasting meanings: comfort and distance. For Li Qing, a poised and resolute woman, the bench represents a tender refuge—a place where she once found solace in Yang Fei’s embrace. In contrast, for Liu Mei, the bench becomes an object of longing, a substitute for the love she cannot find. The bench’s length serves a dual purpose. It acts as a boundary that separates rationality from moral ambiguity, while also serving as an invitation for connection, offering lovers a chance to bridge the gap between them. For Liu Mei, the bench symbolizes her resilience amid despair. Even in a state of exhaustion and confusion, she reserves an empty space for Wu Chao, a testament to her unwavering loyalty. For Li Qing, the benchmark marks her gradual detachment from Yang Fei. A scene where she casually converses with a neighbor on a plane while seated on a similar bench subtly illustrates her growing distance from their shared past.
Yang Fei’s attachment to the bench reflects his enduring devotion. He waits patiently, acknowledging that Li Qing, like a fleeting bird, was never truly his to keep. The bench encapsulates the asymmetry in their love: Li Qing’s conditional “I still love you” versus Yang Fei’s unconditional “I will always love you”. This disparity is mirrored in the bench’s physical form. The warmth of its wooden slats contrasts with the emotional distance between Yang Fei and Li Qing. As a literary device, the bench embodies the complex nature of human relationships. Its impermanence—when compared to concrete or iron structures—mirrors the fragility of love, which both yearns for intimacy and respects personal boundaries. In Yu Hua’s narrative, the bench serves a dual role. It acts as a bridge for shared memories while also functioning as a barrier that preserves individual autonomy [4]. This highlights the delicate balance between connection and separation in the experience of love.
In The Seventh Day, Yang Fei’s everlasting love for Li Qing and her once-deep affection take the form of a metaphorical wooden bench. This bench serves as a place where he finds temporary rest in the afterlife. Yang Fei compares his emotional numbness to a house with shuttered doors and windows. Like the wooden bench, this image embodies patient waiting. He lingers in this sealed space, expecting love to ring the doorbell. This is similar to how he remains seated on the bench, hoping for Li Qing’s return. Although his sorrow comes before any potential new emotional journey, he never begins another “voyage” of love. This pattern echoes his childhood, when he innocently waited for his adoptive father, Yang Jinbiao, outside the kindergarten.
Yang Fei stays rooted, never clinging, even consoling Li Qing with detached composure despite her morally ambiguous choices. His letting go paradoxically stems from profound love: it is the silent vigil as she pursues social ambitions, the respect for her aspirations, the understanding that her path diverged from his. He finds bittersweet relief in her newfound autonomy, believing she only found her true course after their separation—even as he mourns his role as a detour in her life. This is encapsulated in the tear he wipes away upon hearing her murmur, “I married twice, but you’re my only husband” [5]. His love becomes both his final earthly attachment and his first pursuit in death. The metaphors of the sealed house and wooden bench both signify self-imposed seclusion in hope. Yang Fei’s love is a contradiction: he secures her freedom by releasing her, proving devotion not through possession but through steadfast perseverance. Like the bench’s weathered planks, his love endures yet remains fragile—a testament to how love in Yu Hua’s narrative can both create sanctuaries and acquiesce to life’s inevitable farewells.
3. The Literary Echoes of The Seventh Day to The Great
Blue Yonder
In terms of publication timeline, Alex Shearer’s The Great Blue Yonder (2003) preceded Yu Hua’s The Seventh Day (2013) by a decade. Despite their stark stylistic differences—rooted in contrasting Eastern and Western cultural contexts—and seemingly opposing value orientations (one upbeat, the other pessimistic), a deeper analysis reveals a clear narrative trajectory: The Seventh Day engages in a process of learning, imitation, and intertextual dialogue with The Great Blue Yonder. This dynamic is obscured by surface-level disparities [6]. Shearer’s work is anchored in Western philosophical reflections on life and death, employing a tender allegorical tone, while Yu Hua immerses readers in contemporary Chinese sociocultural realities through gritty surrealism. Yet beneath these stylistic and cultural contrasts lies a structural homage: Yu Hua borrows Shearer’s framework of navigating the afterlife as a narrative device, reconfiguring it to explore Chinese notions of mourning, memory, and social inequality. This literary dialogue demonstrates how The Seventh Day not only imitates but also transcodes The Great Blue Yonder’s thematic concerns [7]. By integrating Western existential questions with China’s “头七” funeral folklore and biblical allusions, Yu Hua creates a cross-cultural narrative that acknowledges its literary predecessor while reshaping it for a distinct cultural context. The result is a work that, despite its apparent pessimism, carries forward Shearer’s inquiry into the nature of existence—reimagined through the lens of Chinese social realities.
3.1. The Echoes in Narrative Perspective & Linear Narrative
In The Seventh Day, Yu Hua’s middle-aged protagonist Yang Fei parallels Harry, the teenage protagonist of Alex Shearer’s The Great Blue Yonder. In Shearer’s novel, Harry meets Arthur in the afterlife, who guides him through the “other world” and drives the plot. Harry reconciles with rival Jeff, reminisces about Olivia, embraces his parents, and conveys to sister Adie the love and familial forgiveness left unsaid in life. After resolving these loose ends, Harry releases memories of family, school, and friends, retaining only pure affection for loved ones before heading toward the sunset and diving into 《天蓝色的彼岸》.
The Seventh Day employs a first-person narrative, similar to The Great Blue Yonder. After death, Yang Fei undergoes a life review, which is structured chronologically from Day One to Day Seven. Each day unfolds stories with deceased figures: ex-wife Li Qing, adoptive father Yang Jinbiao, and neighbors Liu Mei and Wu Chao. These stories gradually construct his life timeline [8]. Yu Hua places Yang Fei among the deceased and uses death as a lens to depict the living world. The living world is a realm of absurd yet authentic social realities, marked by gloom, brutality, and violence. The novel implies the real world may not surpass the afterlife, a narrative parallel to Shearer’s work. Both works employ linear storytelling through posthumous journeys to explore life’s meaning. While Harry from The Great Blue Yonder achieves spiritual transcendence, Yang Fei’s afterlife mirrors social injustices. Yet both use first-person perspectives to immerse readers in themes of grief, reconciliation, and the endurance of love. This demonstrates how The Seventh Day adapts Shearer’s narrative structure to address Chinese social realities. Here, “absurdity” captures Yu Hua’s surreal portrayal of society, “authenticity” emphasizes the underlying realism, and “gloom, brutality, and violence” characterize the novel’s harsh social textures.
The Great Blue Yonder uses a first-person narrative and a linear, cohesive storytelling approach. After Harry’s death, he undergoes a profound psychological transformation, maturing from adolescence to an adult understanding of love. He evolves from the belief that “no one knows what to do after death—just as people don’t know while alive” to deliberately delaying his journey to the Great Blue Yonder. Instead, he revisits school, cinemas, and home to bid farewell to friends, former rivals, lost souls, and his beloved family. In contrast to Yang Fei, who dies after his relatives and friends, Harry dies alone but remains vividly present in others’ hearts [9]. Yang Fei, however, must don a black mourning veil for himself—a stark symbol of his isolation. The two novels redefine “being alive” in distinct ways: In The Great Blue Yonder, Harry’s afterlife journey redefines life as emotional closure and spiritual connection. His reluctance to leave immediately shows that “living” persists through unresolved relationships and unexpressed emotions, even beyond death. By reconciling with Jeff and comforting his sister, Harry demonstrates that love transcends physical boundaries.
Yu Hua’s The Seventh Day challenges this perspective through Yang Fei’s experience. Surrounded by the deceased, Yang Fei becomes a spectral figure in a decaying living world. His act of mourning himself blurs the line between life and death, suggesting that moral numbness plagues the living, while the afterlife offers clarity. Where Harry finds resolution, Yang Fei confronts the emptiness of a society where the living may be more “dead” in spirit than the departed. Both novels use first-person perspectives to explore mortality, but through different lenses. Shearer portrays death as a completion of love, while Yu Hua uses it to reflect life’s injustices. The differing definitions of “alive”—emotional presence in The Great Blue Yonder versus moral awareness in The Seventh Day—highlight their cultural and philosophical differences. Yet both works affirm that human connection defines our existence, whether in life or the afterlife.
3.2. The Echoes in Differential Human Relationship Modes
In The Seventh Day, Yang Fei’s posthumous journey unfolds over seven structured days. On the first day, he recollects his death; the second reunites him with Li Qing; the third revisits his life with adoptive father Yang Jinbiao; the fourth brings an encounter with Mouse Girl Liu Mei; the fifth uncovers the stories of Zhang Gang, a Mr. Li, and wet nurse Li Yuezhen; the sixth introduces a new acquaintance, Xiao Qing; and the seventh sees him guiding Liu Mei’s lover, Wu Chao. This narrative structure mirrors a sociological model where relationships radiate from Yang Fei like concentric waves—starting with intimate kin and deep loves, then expanding to more distant connections. It exemplifies the “Differential Mode”, a concept where social bonds form hierarchical circles around the individual. Using Yang Fei as the focal point, Yu Hua peels back layers of familial, geographical, and emotional ties.
The wave-like pattern of relationships serves a dual purpose: it completes Yang Fei’s personal network while exposing the chaotic social order of his world. As the narrative progresses from intimate to peripheral figures, it reveals a society where moral structures have crumbled, and human connections are determined by self-centered proximity [10]. The “wave” metaphor is deliberate—just as waves lose strength with distance, so do social responsibilities and ethical values in a self-centered society. This narrative choice maps Yang Fei’s personal history and lays bare the fragmented social fabric he inhabited, turning the “closed-loop” of his relationships into a microcosm of broader societal decay.
This analysis argues that The Seventh Day and The Great Blue Yonder subtly embody the “Differential Mode”—a hierarchical social structure—contrasting with the “Group Pattern” of parallel social bonds typical in most foreign literature. Unlike The Seventh Day’s linear progression, Alex Shearer’s novel unfolds in reverse order: starting with initially encountered figures like Arthur, the caveman “Ugh-Oh” and the slot-machine old man, then moving to school bully Jeff Tangles, best friend Peter, secret admirer Olivia, classmate Paul Anderson (who uses Harry’s coat hook and seat), and finally to family—parents and sister. This sequence reveals characters in ascending order of intimacy, from strangers to family, combining a flashback-style Differential Mode with a “Group Pattern” that shifts from opposition to alliance. This structure aligns with Harry’s quest to fulfill uncompleted wishes, following a logical arc of searching, exploring, and achieving closure in the afterlife.
In The Seventh Day, the Differential Mode better suits character development, radiating from Yang Fei to peripheral relationships like a “trail of grass and snake tracks”—gradually unfolding connections before weaving them back to the protagonist. This technique enriches characterization by alternating between expanding the social web and refocusing on Yang Fei, creating a dynamic portrayal. This structural contrast highlights a literary dialogue: while The Great Blue Yonder uses reversed Differential Mode to emphasize emotional resolution, The Seventh Day employs a forward hierarchical structure to critique social fragmentation. Both subvert typical Western Group Patterns—Shearer integrates it into a redemptive arc, while Yu Hua uses it to anatomize a decaying social fabric—demonstrating how cultural concepts of human connection are reimagined through narrative form.
3.3. The Echoes in Spatial Turn & Thematic Resonance
The spatial configurations in The Seventh Day—the living world, the “Place Without a Burial Ground” and the Resting Place—bear evident traces of imitation from The Great Blue Yonder. In Alex Shearer’s novel, the afterlife is structured around symbolic spaces like the “Document Desk” and the “Heavenly Blue Afterlife” embodying the author’s philosophy on life and death. As a work of children’s literature, The Great Blue Yonder avoids dramatizing death’s mystery or horror. Instead, it uses a gentle tone to depict Harry’s nostalgia for ordinary life after death, framing his enduring presence in loved ones’ memories as a warm exploration of existence [11]. This approach teaches readers—both children and adults—about the relativity of presence: though Harry dies in a car accident, his image persists in others’ memories, exemplifying “Some die, yet they continue to live”.
Harry’s journey, marked by hesitation and attachment, culminates in his brave stride toward the eternal sunset, diving into the “Heavenly Blue Afterlife” as a metaphor for merging with life’s vast ocean. The novel addresses readers in the second person, reassuring them not to fear death or grieve excessively. This spatial narrative—moving from the liminal “Document Desk” to the transcendent blue afterlife—offers a comforting framework for understanding mortality. Yu Hua emulates this spatial logic in The Seventh Day by creating parallel realms: the mundane yet brutal living world, the lawless “Place Without a Burial Ground” for social outcasts, and the elusive symbolic “Resting Place”. While Shearer’s spaces offer spiritual closure, Yu Hua’s are charged with social critique: the “living world” becomes a site of violence and inequality, while the afterlife exposes the living’s moral decay [12]. This spatial echo highlights how both works use setting to explore existential questions but through distinct lenses: Shearer’s child-friendly fantasy offers redemption, whereas Yu Hua’s surreal realism lays bare societal failings—suggesting that the “afterlife” may be more humane than the world of the living.
In The Seventh Day, Yu Hua portrays Yang Fei’s memories repeatedly leaping between reality and illusion, a narrative technique reminiscent of Harry’s shuttling between the mortal world and the afterlife with Arthur in The Great Blue Yonder. The concept of the “place without a burial ground” ingeniously adapts a traditional Chinese expression. Beyond its literal connotation—referring to those who die tragically or are punished severely, denied a proper burial due to local customs or heinous crimes—it also represents an actual realm where the unburied gather for lack of tombs or coffins. This “place without a burial ground” is depicted as an idyllic landscape: water flows, grass carpets the land, trees thrive with fruit-bearing seeds, and leaves shaped like hearts quiver in a rhythm resembling a beating heart [13]. This vivid environmental portrait at the novel’s end echoes the first-day scene where Yang Fei overhears a VIP in the funeral parlor, seated on a luxurious sofa, boasting about his cemetery nestled in a mountain hollow: “It has dense woods, flowing streams, singing birds, and tombstones of natural stone that have rooted there for hundreds, even thousands, of years”.
This spatial parallel is intentional: while the VIP’s cemetery is a status symbol—crafted from natural beauty but reserved for the elite—the “place without a burial ground” becomes a paradoxical utopia for society’s outcasts. Yu Hua contrasts the VIP’s boast (a sanitized, elitist vision of the afterlife) with the vibrant, organic reality of the unburied realm. Just as Harry’s afterlife journey blurs boundaries between worlds, Yang Fei’s memory shifts expose the hollowness of societal hierarchies—where the “proper” burial ground is a facade, and the “lawless” afterlife teems with more genuine life. This narrative echo underscores how both works use liminal spaces to question societal norms, with Alex Shearer offering spiritual transcendence and Yu Hua delivering a scathing social critique through mirrored spatial design.
This contrast evokes a profound irony: even in death, social status hierarchies persist. The choice of burial sites—whether a privileged cemetery or the “place without a burial ground”—raises haunting questions: Are the powerful inherently nobler than ordinary people? Does wealth ensure genuine peace or beauty in the afterlife? In The Seventh Day’s “place without a burial ground” leaves waves to spirits, stones smile, and rivers greet the dead. Here, there is no poverty or wealth, no sorrow or pain, no hatred or vengeance. All are equal in death; those exploited in life—denied power or means—find an unexpected utopia, while the wealthy who choose “resting places” are excluded from this realm of eternal peace. Alex Shearer’s The Great Blue Yonder, positioned toward the eternal sunset, exists in a twilight realm—never too bright nor too dark. Beyond its red and gold hues, the departed glimpse a faint blue, surrounded by souls at peace who have fulfilled uncompleted wishes and learned to love and farewell.
Both the “place without a burial ground” and the “Great Blue Yonder” serve as sanctuaries crafted by authors for the kind-hearted—refuges where those denied peace in life shed worldly troubles, seeking reincarnation or eternal self-redemption. This spatial parallel reveals a shared literary intent: to reimagine death as a great equalizer. Yu Hua uses the “place without a burial ground” as a scathing critique of societal elitism, where the marginalized find liberation in death. Shearer, meanwhile, transforms the afterlife into a spiritual journey of closure, emphasizing love’s transcendence [14]. Both constructs challenge worldly values: in Yu Hua’s world, material wealth cannot purchase moral superiority; in Shearer’s, emotional resolution surpasses physical existence. Together, they propose that true peace—whether in a lawless utopia or a celestial sunset—awaits those who embrace compassion, regardless of their station in life.
4. Conclusions
This study explored the intricate application of echoing techniques in Yu Hua’s The Seventh Day, demonstrating how the novel engages in a profound intertextual dialogue with Alex Shearer’s The Great Blue Yonder. Through a comparative analysis, three key dimensions of echoing have been identified: narrative structure, social relationship patterns, and spatial symbolism.
First, both novels employ first-person narratives and linear posthumous journeys to explore existential themes, but with distinct cultural inflections. While The Great Blue Yonder uses the afterlife as a tender allegory for emotional closure and love’s transcendence, The Seventh Day reconfigures this framework to critique Chinese social inequalities, using Yang Fei’s seven-day journey to unmask the moral decay of the living world.
Second, the “Differential Mode” of human relationships—though structured in reverse order in Shearer’s work and forward in Yu Hua’s—serves as a narrative device to reveal contrasting societal visions. Shearer’s reversed hierarchy emphasizes emotional resolution, while Yu Hua’s concentric wave structure anatomizes social fragmentation, highlighting how power and privilege persist even in death.
Third, spatial echoes between the “Great Blue Yonder” and the “Place Without a Burial Ground” illustrate divergent philosophical outlooks. Shearer crafts a transcendent, child-friendly afterlife as a site of spiritual redemption, whereas Yu Hua’s lawless utopia for outcasts becomes a scathing critique of elitism, suggesting that the afterlife may embody greater humanity than the living world.
In essence, The Seventh Day not only imitates but transcodes The Great Blue Yonder’s thematic concerns by fusing Western existential questions with Chinese funeral folklore and biblical allusions. This cross-cultural hybridization allows Yu Hua to reimagine death as both a social mirror and a great equalizer, challenging readers to confront the paradoxes of existence: while material wealth fails to guarantee moral superiority, genuine peace—whether in a celestial sunset or a lawless realm—ultimately belongs to those who embrace compassion.
Conflicts of Interest
The author declares no conflicts of interest.