书城外语英语PARTY——文苑精华
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第10章 Life Songs生命如歌(10)

I think some people find the essay the last resort of the egoist, a much too selfconscious and selfserving form for their taste; they feel that it is presumptuous of a writer to assume that his little excursionsexcursion n.远足, 游览, 短程旅行, 远足队, 离题, [物]偏移, 漂移 or his small observations will interest the reader. There is some justice in their complaint. I have always been aware that I am by nature selfabsorbed and egoisticalegoistical adj.自我中心的, 自私自利的, 利己主义的; to write of myself to the extent I have done indicates a too great attention to my own life, not enough to the lives of others. I have worn many shirts, and not all of them have been a good fit. But when I am discouraged or downcast I need only fling open the door of my closet, and there, hidden everything else, hangs the mantle of Michel de Montaigne, smelling slightly of camphor.

散文与散文家

埃·布·怀特

散文家是一位自我解脱的人,靠一种幼稚的信念支撑着,他总认为自己想到的一切、自己遭遇的一切,是大家都感兴趣的。他是一个充分欣赏自己工作的人,就像遛鸟的人欣赏他们的工作那样。散文家的每一次新的游览,每一次新的“尝试”,都和前一次不同,而且总把他带进新的国度里去。这使他很快慰。只有生来以自我为中心的人才会厚颜无耻、持之以恒地去写散文。

散文种类很多,犹如人的姿态,而散文风格韵味之多则犹如霍华德·约翰逊的冰淇淋。散文家清晨起来,倘若有工作做,总从一批特别多样化的服装中挑选出他的外衣来:且不论他是那一类人,他可以根据自己的心境或是题材披上任何种类的衬衫——哲学家、爱骂人的人、诙谐的人、讲故事的人、知己朋友、学术权威、爱唱反调的人、热心人士。我爱好散文,一向爱好,孩提时就动手写文章,试图把我年轻的思想与经历写在纸上,强加给别人。我写的散文最早刊登在《圣尼古拉杂志》上。当我突然有了一个想法时,我还是倾向于采用散文这种形式(或者可以说是,缺乏任何形式),不过我对于散文在二十世纪美国文坛上的地位并没有上当受骗。总的来说,散文地位偏低。散文家不像小说家、诗人和剧作家,他必须满足于自己强加上身的二等公民的角色。一个目光瞄准诺贝尔奖或是世上其他荣誉的作家,最好写一篇小说、一首诗或一部戏剧,撇下散文家四下漫游,满足于一种自由自在的生活,享受着一种或多或少散漫生活的种种快事。(约翰逊博士把散文称为“一篇不合常规的、未经整理的文字”;我这个快乐的散文作者无意就那位好博士关于散文特性的描述进行指责。)

不过有一件事是散文家所不能做的——他不能尽情欺骗或是隐瞒,因为那样一来,他很快就会被别人发觉。德斯蒙德·麦卡锡在达顿公司一九二八年出版的《蒙田文集》的序言里说,蒙田“具有生性爽朗的天赋……”这是主要的成分。就连散文家摆脱法则也只是部分摆脱:散文虽然形式松散,却定有自己的法则,提出自己的问题。这些法则和问题不久就变得很明显,而且(我们全都希望)对任何一个仅仅因为自己浮想联翩或者因为心境快乐或胡思乱想而握起笔管来的人充当一种制约因素。

我想有些人认为散文是利己主义者的最后一着,是不合他们口味的一种过于忸怩作态、过于自私自利的形式。他们觉得一个作家设想他的微不足道的游览或是他的琐细的观察会使读者感觉兴趣,这是十分荒谬的。他们的抱怨中倒也相当有道理。我一贯知道,我生性是自顾自和利己的;写我自己写到这样的地步,它表明我对自己的生活过分在意,而不太关心别人的生活。我穿过许多件衬衫,并不是所有的都很合身。不过遇到我心情沮丧或郁郁不快时,我只需要把衣橱的门一下拉开:那藏在别的所有衣服后面,挂着米歇尔·德·蒙田的披风,微微地散发出樟脑味。

Fable for Tomorrow

R. Carson

There was once a town in the heart of America where all life seemed to live in harmony with its surroundings. The town lay in the midst of a checkerboard of prosperousprosperous adj.繁荣的 farms, with fields of grain and hillsides of orchards where, in spring, white clouds of bloom drifted above the green fields. In autumn, oakoak n.[植]橡树, 橡木 adj.橡木制的 and maplemaple n.[植]枫, 枫木, 淡棕色 and birch set up a blaze of color that flamed and flickered across a backdrop of pines. Then foxes barked in the hills and deer silently crossed the fields, half hidden in the mists of the fall mornings.

Along the roads, laurellaurel n.[植]月桂树, 桂冠, 殊荣 vt.使戴桂冠, 授予荣誉, viburnumviburnum n.荚莲属的植物 and alder, great ferns and wildflowers delighted the traveler,s eye through much of the year. Even in winter, the roadsides were places of beauty, where countless birds came to feed on the berries and on the seed heads of the dried weeds rising above the snow. The countryside, was, in fact, famous for the abundance and variety of its bird life, and when the flood of migrantsmigrant n.候鸟, 移居者 was pouring through in spring and fall people traveled from great distances to observe them. Others came to fish the streams, which flowed clear and cold out of the hills and contained shady pools where trout lay. So it had been from the days many years ago when the first settlers raised their houses, sank their wells, and built their barns.