看过最棒的英文小说
最近看完了The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Junot Diaz花了十年写了这薄薄一本小说,我也花了几乎三个月读它。有的批评者看这类小说好不好就看它像不像《百年孤独》,巴不得上下十八代交代齐全,为了写时代而写人物,人物看起来假得很。奥斯卡那班评委一个德行:“为奴十二年”除了贴个黑奴反抗运动的招牌,这2013最佳电影究竟好在什么地方了!这本书却没那么矫情,我翻到三分之一,合上书本在床头发愣,太好看了!就像是不折不扣的叙事大片,每个人物故事都精彩绝伦。围绕肥胖笨拙的Oscar横跨两大洲的殉情故事,牵出家族的循环业报:他妈妈Beli与黑手党般的家乡警察的虐恋,他姐姐Lola的离家出走,他祖父小心翼翼却难逃噩运的摧残,一个个人物的故事都紧密相连,近在眼前,却构成多美尼哥移民与故土藕断丝连的宏大叙事,让我在看其中一人的片段时,另一人的故事如电影般在背景里反复回放。合上书唏嘘不已,并且回想不觉得矫揉造作。
我被震撼的理由其二,来自于作者不含野心的文字,他显然并没想暴露什么黑暗,揭露什么现状,隐个什么屁喻。他只是讲故事,该哭就哭,想骂就骂,直接指着独裁者的鼻子说他是操蛋大操蛋。这种爽快显得谦虚亲近,也让他的文字轻松好看。整本书的时代感和宏大感是由一些小小的笔触慢慢托起来的,作者这么不当回事的描述,反而让这些人物活灵活现,轻易就让我相信了他们的存在,跟随他们的心境。
这种文字给与的快感,是我失而复得。有一段时间我几乎下了决心不再看英文书——看中文就已经慢得很,读起英文书来要是瞄得快根本不知所云。我觉得自己时间有限(实际上时间大把,努力有限),就想断了买英文书的念头。还好没有。Junot Diaz行文,大概有点像中文里的王朔?有一些痞子气,不时夹杂脏话,多短句,口语化,但是节奏感很强,鼓点到处,把英文准确直接的特点发挥得淋漓精致,翻译成多义婉转的中文想必非常困难。再加上通篇有很多西班牙词,我没较真儿查词典,虽然能猜个十之八九,但是想来中文译本得在这些词上加个星号,说是外语词汇,那效果可是大打了折扣。
除此之外,作者文笔的原创性很强。有的作者,虽然文笔好,不管是经过雕琢的还是浑然天成的,就像翻唱口水歌的卡带歌手,或是选秀比赛勉强进到前十的“好听”声音,没有辨识度。而这本书的文字,轻重缓急,起承转合,都极有特点。比如说,他在描述中经常穿插忽然冒出来的对话,不加身份而且有些只有短短两三个字。你要是一气往下读,似行云流水,有时候是叙述者在骂人,有时候是相关人物的心声,有时候是忽然想起什么事插进这里说也未尝不可。你要是随便翻开一页看这段反而会摸不着头脑,这是谁说的话呀?作者神于此,让读者根据上下几千年进行脑补,他准确地知道那个脑补机关的扳手。
另外,整本书用了三种人称,一种是上帝视角,“他/她”什么旮瘩事儿都能显现;一种是非上帝视角第三人称,“他/她”是叙述者的朋友,“他/她”大概是干了些什么,才会这样和“我”说话;一种是第一人称,用在了Lola离家出走那段,Lola就是“我”。这真的是很有意思的安排,看完以后我不得不觉得作者用了最合适的视角来描述各个段落。段落的转折自然流畅,就像作者行文,也像全书结构:我看到第二页就有大段大段的脚注,我奇怪地往下念,发现脚注本身竟然是文学性极强的小故事。作者完全不在意哪个是正篇,该往下写就往下写,写爽了才停。这种写法,让读者觉得愉悦得很,好像一个活力旺盛表达力爆表的人在给你讲故事,又新奇又兴奋。全书的新奇感是它NB的一大原因。
说了这么多语言上的好处,只随便打开书摘两段:
A punk chick. That’s what I became. A Siouxsie and the Banshees-loving punk chick. The puertorican kids on the block couldn’t stop laughing when they saw my hair, they called me Blacula, and the morenos, they didn’t know what to say: they just called me devil-bitch. Yo, devil-bitch, yo, yo! My tia Rubelka thought it was some kind of mental illness. Hija, she said while frying pastelitos, maybe you need help. But my mother was the worst. It’s the last straw, she screamed. The. Last. Straw.
…
Oscar! I screamed but it was too late. My mother already had me in her hands. She looked so thin and worn, almost like a hag, but she was holding on to me like I was her last nickel, and underneath her red wig her green eyes were furious. I noticed, absently, that she had dressed up for the occasion. That was typical. Muchacha del diablo, she shrieked. I managed to haul her out of the coffee shop and when she pulled back her hand to smack me I broke free. I ran for it. Behind me I could feel her sprawling, hitting the curb hard with a crack, but I wasn’t looking back. No — I was running…. I was going to run as fast as my long legs could carry me. I was going to run down the boardwalks, past Aldo’s miserable house, out of Wildwood, out of New Jersey, and I wasn’t going to stop. I was going to fly.
强烈推荐!普利策奖之《奥斯卡瓦奥短暂而奇妙的一生》。
我被震撼的理由其二,来自于作者不含野心的文字,他显然并没想暴露什么黑暗,揭露什么现状,隐个什么屁喻。他只是讲故事,该哭就哭,想骂就骂,直接指着独裁者的鼻子说他是操蛋大操蛋。这种爽快显得谦虚亲近,也让他的文字轻松好看。整本书的时代感和宏大感是由一些小小的笔触慢慢托起来的,作者这么不当回事的描述,反而让这些人物活灵活现,轻易就让我相信了他们的存在,跟随他们的心境。
这种文字给与的快感,是我失而复得。有一段时间我几乎下了决心不再看英文书——看中文就已经慢得很,读起英文书来要是瞄得快根本不知所云。我觉得自己时间有限(实际上时间大把,努力有限),就想断了买英文书的念头。还好没有。Junot Diaz行文,大概有点像中文里的王朔?有一些痞子气,不时夹杂脏话,多短句,口语化,但是节奏感很强,鼓点到处,把英文准确直接的特点发挥得淋漓精致,翻译成多义婉转的中文想必非常困难。再加上通篇有很多西班牙词,我没较真儿查词典,虽然能猜个十之八九,但是想来中文译本得在这些词上加个星号,说是外语词汇,那效果可是大打了折扣。
除此之外,作者文笔的原创性很强。有的作者,虽然文笔好,不管是经过雕琢的还是浑然天成的,就像翻唱口水歌的卡带歌手,或是选秀比赛勉强进到前十的“好听”声音,没有辨识度。而这本书的文字,轻重缓急,起承转合,都极有特点。比如说,他在描述中经常穿插忽然冒出来的对话,不加身份而且有些只有短短两三个字。你要是一气往下读,似行云流水,有时候是叙述者在骂人,有时候是相关人物的心声,有时候是忽然想起什么事插进这里说也未尝不可。你要是随便翻开一页看这段反而会摸不着头脑,这是谁说的话呀?作者神于此,让读者根据上下几千年进行脑补,他准确地知道那个脑补机关的扳手。
另外,整本书用了三种人称,一种是上帝视角,“他/她”什么旮瘩事儿都能显现;一种是非上帝视角第三人称,“他/她”是叙述者的朋友,“他/她”大概是干了些什么,才会这样和“我”说话;一种是第一人称,用在了Lola离家出走那段,Lola就是“我”。这真的是很有意思的安排,看完以后我不得不觉得作者用了最合适的视角来描述各个段落。段落的转折自然流畅,就像作者行文,也像全书结构:我看到第二页就有大段大段的脚注,我奇怪地往下念,发现脚注本身竟然是文学性极强的小故事。作者完全不在意哪个是正篇,该往下写就往下写,写爽了才停。这种写法,让读者觉得愉悦得很,好像一个活力旺盛表达力爆表的人在给你讲故事,又新奇又兴奋。全书的新奇感是它NB的一大原因。
说了这么多语言上的好处,只随便打开书摘两段:
A punk chick. That’s what I became. A Siouxsie and the Banshees-loving punk chick. The puertorican kids on the block couldn’t stop laughing when they saw my hair, they called me Blacula, and the morenos, they didn’t know what to say: they just called me devil-bitch. Yo, devil-bitch, yo, yo! My tia Rubelka thought it was some kind of mental illness. Hija, she said while frying pastelitos, maybe you need help. But my mother was the worst. It’s the last straw, she screamed. The. Last. Straw.
…
Oscar! I screamed but it was too late. My mother already had me in her hands. She looked so thin and worn, almost like a hag, but she was holding on to me like I was her last nickel, and underneath her red wig her green eyes were furious. I noticed, absently, that she had dressed up for the occasion. That was typical. Muchacha del diablo, she shrieked. I managed to haul her out of the coffee shop and when she pulled back her hand to smack me I broke free. I ran for it. Behind me I could feel her sprawling, hitting the curb hard with a crack, but I wasn’t looking back. No — I was running…. I was going to run as fast as my long legs could carry me. I was going to run down the boardwalks, past Aldo’s miserable house, out of Wildwood, out of New Jersey, and I wasn’t going to stop. I was going to fly.
强烈推荐!普利策奖之《奥斯卡瓦奥短暂而奇妙的一生》。
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