Your first memory wasn't something like your first bra or your first friend, or your first kiss, or your first fuck, or your first friend, or your first marriage, or your first child, or the death of your first parent, or your first sudden sense of the lancing hopelessness of the human condition - it wasn't like any of that. Iy wasn't a solid, seizable thing, which time, in its plodding, humorous way might decorate down the years with fanciful detail - a gauzy swirl of mist, a thundercloud, a coronet - but could never expunge. A memory was by definition not a thing it was... a memory. A memory now of a memory a bit earlier of a memory before that of a memory way back when. So people assertively remembered a face, a knee that bounced them, a springtime meadow; a dog, a granny, a woollen ani... (查看原文)
Memories of childhood were the dreams that stayed with you after you woke. You dreamed all night, or for long, serious sections of the night, yet when you woke all you had was a memory of having been abandoned, or betrayed, caught in a trap, left on a frozen plain; and sometimes not even that, but a fading after-image of the emotion stirred by such events. (查看原文)
![[英] 朱利安·巴恩斯](https://img3.doubanio.com/img/author/medium/public/1495610600.62.jpg)
朱利安·巴恩斯 作者
尾巴很大的海狗
外语教学与研究出版社2019版
吴情
译林出版社2015版
0 有用 诗鸣 2022-01-18 16:21:26
类似西部世界的科幻，又有着现实的隐喻。如玛莎的一生，洗净铅华，回归复古风格。是进步还是落后？