It's easy to rush to judge our families and our family histories. Yan eloquently demonstrates this in the novel, most poignant in his attempt to reframe the senseless violence and gore of his uncle's death in a way the narrator can understand, or at least stomach. But the search for meaning never yields anything substantial, and in the end of the novel, when he sees the sorghum, there is an echo of his primary question: Why does life have to end in death? Why does one variety of plant overcome another? This transcendental question finds its answer in the dual nature of Commander Yu.
When the speaker's grandfather arrived at the farm, he murders the owner and husband of his to-be wife. That's the line that was followed to get to the main character, the unnamed speaker (who likely represents Mo Yan). This is like saying that he's a descendent of a murderer and a selfish tyrannical person. So when he looks back at the facts of those strange, historic times, does he see an evil murderer as his grandfather?
Yes and no. He sees that his grandfather (and Uncle Arhat himself for that matter) are actually combinations of different, seemingly opposite things: patience and impatience, good and evil, love and pain, all held in balance. That is his answer to the dilemma, one might say. He finds the meaning of life in the concept of Dao, the unknowable, preternatural balance of seemingly opposite things, most importantly, in life and death.
