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夏读书,日正长,打开书,喜洋洋。现将“指南”中的精品文学作品以一日一推的方式向读者呈现,让我们不负一夏好时光。
周李立丨《透视》
推荐理由
作品充满隐喻,叙事节奏张弛有度,结构简洁而富有层次,语言精准老到,写四川大地震后所带给幸存者的心灵创痛,并着力于伤痛过后人生态度和生存方式等深层问题的揭示。
娜娜的姑父老关作为地震的幸存者“逃”到了北京,在娜娜和男友乔远租住的艺术区内,重新寻找了家庭失落的欢欣,过着看似闲适的生活,做饭、乘凉、喝茶、聊天。通篇几乎没有再涉及地震这一话题,但老关的内心世界却“余震”不断,沉浸在一种莫名的悲哀里。乔远的两幅马图,导出了他们之间关于“透视”的话题。老关的内心就像一座压抑不住随时要喷涌的情绪火山。直到有一天,老关做出了将石膏头像掩埋的反常举动,将氤氲在作品中的悲伤情绪释放到了极致,老关内心的情绪火山也喷薄而出。但作品却恰到好处地控制了叙事节奏,在极致的情绪渲染过后不是沉郁顿挫的铺排,而是和风细雨的叙述,“老关也活下来了,尽管他看上去并不那么正常,但他会回归到直路上的,地震不过是另一个弯道,他是司机,擅长转弯。”作品中,娜娜这一人物形象也颇值得品味,“她再也不会提起中专时和她舔同一颗话梅的男孩了,那个疯掉的男孩,是她这么多年都忽略不提的一个弯道,她冲过了这个弯道,把它看成一条直路,她活了下来,继续经历其他男人和其他的考试。”娜娜始终是一个冷眼旁观者,对一切事情不愿意“透视”,而是任其自然地发展着。其实我们每一个人的身上都有娜娜的影子,无论是欢欣过后还是悲痛过后,经历过后,生活依然继续。
Reviews
Bursting with metaphor and pacing itself through concise, rich, accurate language, this short story approaches the Sichuan earthquake survivors through their psychological trauma, uncovering their attitudes and ways of life following such a devastating tragedy. Nana’s uncle is one of the earthquake survivors, fleeing to Beijing’s art district to rediscover the joy of family with Nana and her boyfriend Qiao Yuan, leading a seemingly easy life of conversation, food, and sipping tea in the shade.
From that point on, the earthquake is never really brought up again, but we witness the aftershocks that take place inside Guan, immersing him in an indescribable sadness. And in this, Qiao Yuan’s two horse paintings bring the concept of “perspective” to the forefront. Before long, Guan’s heart becomes an emotional volcano ready to erupt at any moment, and we see this rupture take place when one day he can no longer stand the sadness embodied in a plaster head, concluding that it should be buried.
Throughout all this, the novel maintains a perfect narrative rhythm, choosing not to end these idiosyncrasies with more bouts of depression and setback, but rather with a calmness reminiscent of breeze through the rain: “Sure, he’s a little different from you and I, but he really made it. With that earthquake, life threw him a major detour, and instead of falling off the edge, he rounded the turn as he, an experienced driver, was supposed to.”
At the same time, Nana’s character is also worthy of reflection: “She decided to never again bring up that boy – the boy who she shared the same piece of candy with and who eventually went crazy. She hid that detour in her life for years and actually took a shortcut through it. She made it as well, and will meet other men and other tests.” Always a cold-eyed bystander, Nana would never take a “perspective” on things, preferring that they take their own course. But really, a Nana lives somewhere in each of us, because whether after joy or after sorrow, life always continues.
作家简介
Author Profile
周李立,女,汉族,1984年生,籍贯四川。2006年毕业于中国人民大学新闻学院。现供职于中国作家协会创联部。2008年开始发表作品,中短篇小说集《欢喜腾》入选2013年度“21世纪文学之星”丛书。获第四届汉语文学女评委奖,第六届“茅台杯”《小说选刊》奖新人奖,2015年《长江丛刊》年度文学奖等。
Zhou Lili (1984 – ), female, is a Han Chinese author from Sichuan Province. She graduated from Renmin University of China’s School of Journalism and Communication in 2006 and currently works for the China Writers Association’s Creative Alliance. Zhou started publishing her works in 2008, with her novella collection Sorrow and Joy making its way into the 2013 Star of 21st Century Literature series. As of today, she has earned awards that include the 4th Chinese Literature Female Judge Award, the 6th Maotai Cup’s Selected Fiction Newcomer Award, and the 2015 Yangtze River Series’ Annual Literature Prize.
中文概要
Synopsis
最热那天是娜娜考试的日子。早上她出门前,忧心忡忡看一眼乔远,好像在责怪他为什么对她的忧虑无动于衷。他打趣着,祝她一举成功。她烦躁地想找一双平底鞋换上,说“有什么用啊?”
“我像她这个年龄的时候,也总这样想,有什么用啊?”娜娜走后,老关对乔远说。两个男人都显得很无奈,然后,他们需要共同面对这漫长的一天。
老关问乔远,“他们为什么要做这些?”他还在看那些没完成的雕塑。“他们在做一个展览。”乔远回答。大概天气太热,这天的雕塑工坊里,仍然没有人来。铁门上挂着巨大的锁。
“不,我是问,他们为什么要做这些?”老关又问了一次,这次,他自问自答起来,“是为了记住吧?”
“他们不应该把报废的石膏也放在这里。”乔远说。他看那些胳臂和腿越来越不顺眼了。
老关说,“也许,我们可以做点什么?”
“什么?”乔远问。
“你来,”老关站起来,穿过柏油路。
两个男人在雕塑工坊前。老关不知从哪里捡来一根铁棍,开始在地上钻孔。这片地曾经是绿化带,后来雕塑工坊租下这里开始装修,绿化带便荒废了。老关力气很大,地上很快就出现了一个碗口大的洞。
乔远问他到底在做什么?他说,要把那个头埋起来。
“那个头?”
“是的,其他都好,我不喜欢那个头,我得把它埋起来。”
“可是,为什么要埋起来?我们可以告诉他们,让他们不要把这些东西放在外面就好了?”乔远说完,心想也许老关才更像艺术家。
老关停下来,大概想了想,说,“还是埋起来吧,入土为安。”
老关从一堆石膏废料里捡出来一个很小的石膏头像,看不出男女,鼻子已经磕掉了,连同上嘴唇的一块。耳朵倒还在,夸张地支楞起来,很像兔子的耳朵。
老关把残破的石膏头像,扔进刚刚撬出的洞里。他说,“他们不会有意见的,对吗?这是他们不要的东西。”他说的没错,雕塑工坊的人不会因为一个废掉的石膏头像怪罪他们,何况雕塑工坊的老板和乔远关系不错。
但乔远其实有别的担心,他觉得老关的举动很不正常,虽然在艺术区总是有人做出一些不正常的事,比如那些行为艺术或者别的什么,为了反抗物业、反抗房租上涨、反对虐待动物、反对空气污染……但不应该是老关,老关在反对什么?或者他是想埋掉什么?他想埋掉一个石膏头像,这举动很像娜娜中专时的男生,把课桌从二楼的窗户扔出去。乔远这样想着,犹豫着自己是否需要给老关帮忙。
天气热得吓人,那些石膏很像就快融化的冰淇淋。老关撬出的洞还不够大,他没有合适的工具来挖一个更大的洞,他用穿拖鞋的脚在那洞里捣鼓了几下,但没什么用,越往下,地里的土越硬,已经露出了小块的石头。
老关开始泄气,他突然松开那铁棍,捞起衣服下摆擦汗,擦完又接着挖洞,把里面掉下来的土用手一点点掏出来。
The day of Nana’s test happened to be the hottest on record and she cast an apprehensive look at Qiao Yuan before setting out that morning, angered that he found her a worry-wart. He met her eyes with a smile, teasingly wishing her good luck. At the door, she fidgeted around to find a pair of flats and let out a sigh. “What’s the point?”
“I was always asking myself the same thing her age”, Old Guan said to Qiao Yuan after she’d gone. The two of them sat there helpless, knowing that they’d be spending a long day together.
“Why exactly do they make these?” Guan asked, looking at the unfinished sculptures in the workshop.
“They’re having an exhibition” Qiao said, rather flatly. Nobody had come by probably due to the heat, and a huge lock hung on the door.
“No, I mean, why do they make these? To help them remember?” Guan asked again, almost answering his own question.
Qiao Yuan looked on and said, “They really shouldn’t put all their scrap over here.” His eyes wandered across the plaster arms and legs that piled up into a major eyesore.
Old Guan nodded. “Yeah, maybe. We should do something?”
“What?”
“Come on” Guan continued, standing up and crossing the street.
The two had been standing outside the workshop when Qiao Yuan saw Old Guan grab an iron rod out of nowhere and start digging into the ground. A nice bed of flowers used to be here beside the road, but they all died off after they rented and started to spruce up the workshop. Guan had some strong arms on him, so a big hole in the ground opened up in no time.
“What… are you doing?” Qiao Yuan asked.
“Burying that head.”
“The head…?”
“Well, the rest of the sculpture’s fine. But this head’s terrible, so I’m gonna bury it.”
“But…why? We could just tell them not to put these things outside.” Qiao Yuan tilted his head to the side and figured maybe Guan was more of an artist.
Old Guan stopped for a moment, thought about it, and said: “Nah, let’s bury it and lay it to rest.”
From the pile of scrap plaster pieces, Guan pulled out a small head that looked neither male nor female and was missing its whole upper lip and nose. It still had ears, but they stuck out far like those of a rabbit’s.
He tossed it into the hole and said: “They won’t mind, right? I mean, they didn’t want it anyway.” Sure, he had a point. Nobody in the workshop would get worked up over a wasted plaster head. Anyway, Qiao Yuan was on good terms with the owner, so nothing would come of it.
But honestly, Qiao Yuan was a bit worried about Guan, finding his behavior a few notches away from normal. Of course, eccentric behavior is a norm in the art district, with people going up in arms to fight rising rents, animal cruelty, air pollution, or even the concept of property. But Guan should not be involved.
What Guan was “fighting” against or trying to bury, he wasn’t quite sure. Could he be trying to bury something other than the obvious? He suddenly recalled the boys in Nana’s polytechnic middle school… how they would throw their desks out the second-floor window, and how that was similar to Guan’s burying of this head. He thought long and hard, and wondered whether or not he should help the guy.
The heat waves emanating off the pavement could almost make ice cream of the plaster. But sooner or later, Guan realized that the hole wasn’t big enough but he did not have a tool to make it bigger with. Fed up, he started kicking down into the hole with no regard for his flip-flops – anything to make the hole bigger. But it was no use… the dirt got harder and harder the further down he went, reaching a layer of small stones.
Guan shook his head, dropping the rod with a sudden thud. He used the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead and neck. Then he got down on his hands and knees and started clawing at the dirt bit by bit.
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