《最初的爱情，最后的仪式》

#小说/短篇

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短评

每个故事都很喜欢，有几段看得心塞到不行。用词简直精妙到令人叫绝。

笔记

Solid Geometry 立体几何

此刻她的肢体展现出惊人的美丽和人体结构的高贵，正如纸花，它的对称具有一种令人神魂颠倒的魔力。我又一次感到神情恍惚、头皮发麻。当我拉着她的 腿穿过臂环的时候，梅茜就像袜子一样翻卷起来。“噢， 上帝，”她发出悲号，“怎么回事？”她的声音似乎十分遥远。而后她不见了……还没有消失：她的声音非常细微，“怎么回事？”深蓝色的床单上只剩下她追问的回声。

Now the positioning of her limbs expressed the breathtaking beauty, the nobility of the human form, and, as in the paper flower, there was a fascinating power in its symmetry. I felt the trance coming on again and the numbness settling over the back of my head. As I drew her arms and legs through, Maisie appeared to turn in on herself like a sock. 'Oh God,' she sighed, 'what's happening?' and her voice sounded very far away. Then she was gone ... and not gone. Her voice was quite tiny, 'What's happening?' and all that remained was the echo of her question above the deep-blue sheets.

Homemade 家庭制造

事实上，没有什么运动能像一次精彩的越野赛跑一样 . 让我看得如此热切，如此兴奋。我爱看选手们进入彩旗通道，跨越终点线时备受折磨的扭曲的脸。我觉得那些紧接在前五十名之后的选手的脸尤其有趣，跑得任何人都吃力，着魔似的竞逐场上一百一十三名的位置。我看着他们跌跌撞撞跑进彩旗通道，扯着喉咙干呕， 胳膊使劲乱摆，倒在草地上，使我确信眼前正是一幅表现人类徒劳性的图景。

In fact there was no other sport I watched with such good heart, such entertainment and elation as a good cross-country. I loved the racked, contorted faces of the runners as they came up the tunnel of flags and crossed the finishing line; I found especially interesting those who came after the first fifty or so, running harder than any of the other contestants and competing demoniacally among themselves for the hundred and thirteenth place in the field. I watched them stumble up the tunnel of flags, clawing at their throats, retching, flailing their arms and falling to the grass, convinced that I had before me here a vision of human futility.

现在一切好了，她重新玩起了爸爸妈妈过家家，主导着游戏。她用手引导我，进入她紧湿的小女孩的阴道，一时间我们凝固了。我希望雷蒙德能看着我，我很高兴他让我意识到了自已的童贞；我希望漂亮的露露能看着我，事实上假如我的愿望能够实现，我会希望我所有的朋友，所有我认识的人，排着队走进卧室瞻仰我的光辉形象。因为甚于任何感觉，哪怕是耳后爆炸、长矛穿腹、烫烙私处，或者灵魂折磨，尽管这些我一样都没有感受过，那么就甚于想到这些时候的感觉吧，我感觉到的是自豪，自豪自己操过了，就算只是和康妮，我十岁酌妹妹，哪怕只是和一只跋脚的山羊，我也会自豪自己以这样男人的姿势躺在这里，自豪能提前说“我操过了”，自豪我现在业已无可逆转地加人到人类社会的高级人群当中，他们深谙性事，并借此传宗接代。

It was all right with her now, she was at Mummies and Daddies and controlling the game again. With her hand she guided me into her tight, dry little-girl's cunt and we lay perfectly still for a while. I wished Raymond could have seen me, and I was glad he had brought my virginity to my notice, I wished Dinky Lulu could have seen me, in fact if my wishes had been granted I would have had all my friends, all the people I 28 knew, file through the bedroom to catch me in my splendorous pose. For more than sensation, more than any explosion behind my eyes, spears through my stomach, searings in my groin or rackings of my soul - more than any of these things, none of which I felt anyway, more then than even the thought of these things, I felt proud, proud to be fucking, even if it were only Connie, my ten-year-old sister, even if it had been a crippled mountain goat I would have been proud to be lying there in that manly position, proud in advance of being able to say 'I have fucked', of belonging intimately and irrevocably to that superior half of humanity who had known coitus, and fertilized the world with it.

Last Day of Summer 夏日里的最后一天

“伦敦就在那个方向。”伦敦是一个我不想让河水知道的很要紧的秘密。它流过我们家时还不知道伦敦。*

'London's down there.' London is a terrible secret I try to keep from the river. It doesn't know about it yet while it's flowing past our house.

船翘了起来，因为珍妮跌倒在船的一侧，她是那么大，我的船又那么小。船很快就翻了个，快得就像照相机的快门喀擦一下，刹那问我就到了暗绿色的河底，手背抵到了冰冷的软泥，脸边有水草拂动。我能听到像块块石子入水般的笑声，就在耳边。但当我浮上水面时，却感到四下无人。河面黑黢黢的，我一定是在下面沉下很久。有东西碰着了我的头，我意识到自已被压在翻覆的船里。我又潜下去从另一边浮起，过了好长时间才喘过气来。我绕船游着，一遍遍呼喊珍妮和艾丽斯。我还把嘴埋在水里叫她们的名字。没有人答应。没有东西划破水面。河面上只有我。于是我悬在船边，等待她们冒上来。我等了很久，随船漂流，脑子里仍然回荡着笑声。我望着河水和西沉的太阳打在上面的片片黄色光斑。 有时一个大寒战穿透我的腿和背，但大多数时候我是平静的，挂在绿色的船壳上，脑子里空空荡荡，什么都没有， 只是望着河水，等着水面被冲开，黄斑散碎。我漂过那个老人钓鱼的地方，那似乎是很久以前的事情了。他早已不见，原先站过的地方只有一个纸袋。我是那么疲惫，我闭上双眼，感觉好像是躺在家里的床上，是冬天，妈妈来我房里道晚安。她关掉灯，而我把船滑进了河里。于是我又记起来了，呼喊珍妮和艾丽斯，又望着河水，然后我的眼睛开始合上，我妈妈又来我房里道晚安并关掉灯而我又沉入水中。很长时间我忘了呼喊珍妮和艾丽斯，我只是挂在船沿，漂流而下。我现在看到岸上有个地方，是我很久以前熟悉的。那里有一小片沙滩，码头边有一方草岸。黄斑已沉入水中，我推开小船，任它一路漂去伦敦，而我在黑色的水中慢慢朝码头游去。

And the boat tips over. It tips over because Jenny falls against the side, because Jenny is big and my boat is small. It goes over quickly, like the click of my camera shutter, and suddenly I'm at the deep green bottom of the river touching the cold soft mud with the back of my hand and feeling the reeds on my face. I can hear laughter like sinking pieces of stone by my ear. But when I push upwards to the surface I feel no one near me. When I come up it's dark on the river. I've been down a long time. Something touches my head and I realize I'm inside the upturned boat. I go down again and up the other side. It takes me a long time to get my breath. I work my way round the boat shouting over and over for Jenny and Alice. I put my mouth in the water and shout their names. But no one answers, nothing breaks the surface. I'm the only one on the river. So I hang on to the side of the boat and wait for them to come up. I wait a long time, drifting along with the boat, with the laughter still in my head, watching the river and the yellow patches on it from the sun getting low. Sometimes great shivers run through my legs and back, but mostly I'm calm, hanging on to the green shell with nothing in my mind, nothing at all, just watching the river, waiting for the surface to break and the yellow patches to scatter. I drift past the place where the old man was fishing and it seems like a very long time ago. He's gone now, there's just a paper bag in the place where he was standing. I get so tired I close my eyes and it feels like I'm at home in bed and it's winter and my mother's coming into my room to say goodnight. She turns out the light and I slip off the boat into the river. Then I remember and I shout for Jenny and Alice and watch the river again and my eyes start to close and my mother comes into my room and says goodnight and turns out the light and I sink back into the water again. After a long time I forget to shout for Jenny and Alice, I just hang there and drift down. I'm looking at a place on the bank I used to know very well a long time ago. There's a patch of sand and a grass bank by a jetty. The yellow patches are sinking into the river when I push away from the boat. I let it drift on down to London and I swim slowly through the black water to the jetty.

Butterflies 蝴蝶

“傻姑娘，”我说，“没有蝴蝶。”然后我轻轻把她抱起，尽可能轻以免弄醒她，悄悄地缓缓把她放入运河。

'Silly girl,' I said, 'no butterflies.' Then I lifted her up gently, as gently as I could so as not to wake her, and eased her quietly into the canal.

等他们再长大一点我们就一块去喝酒，而我也将学会爱上啤酒。我站起身开始缓缓地沿原路往回走。我明白我将不会参加任何足球比赛。机会渺茫， 就像蝴蝶。你一伸手，它们就飞走了。我走过他们刚才踢球的地方，如今空无一人，我用脚踩住的那块石头还躺在路中央。我把它捡起来，放进口袋，才继续往前走，去赴我的约会。

We would go out drinking together when they were older, and I would learn to like beer. I stood up and began to walk slowly back the way I had come. I knew I would not be joining any football games. The opportunities are rare, like butterflies. You stretch your hand out and they are gone. I went along the street where they had been playing. It was deserted now and the stone I had stopped with my foot was still in the middle of the road. I picked it up and put it in my pocket, and then walked on to keep my appointment.

Conversation With a Cupboard Man 与橱中人的对话

那三个月是我离家以来最美好的时光。我把小号收拾得很舒服，生活十分有规律。除了聋子我不大和别人说话。我不想，我希望过着一种不复杂的生活。你可能会想我说的被关在炉子里和关在号子里是同一回事。不，这不是受挫后的那种痛并快乐，而是一种安全感带来的深层愉悦。事实上我现在还记得我希望有时不要那么多自由。我很享受一天中关在号子里的那几个小时。

Those three months were the best since I left home. I made my cell comfortable and I fell into a closed routine. I didn't speak to many people apart from Deafy. I didn't want to, I wanted a life without complications. You might be thinking that what I said about being locked in an oven was the same thing as being locked in a cell. No, it wasn't the pain-pleasure of feeling frustrated. It was a deeper pleasure of feeling safe. In fact I remember now wishing sometimes I had less freedom. I enjoyed the time of day we had to keep to our cells.

First Love, Last Rites 最初的爱情，最后的仪式

西瑟尔上班的第二天我搭渡轮过河在工厂门口等她。几名妇女由那面巨大的无窗墙上开的一扇小铁皮门出入，而后咿呀的汽笛响彻整个工厂大厦。其他小门打开，人们纷纷涌出，簇拥到大门口，成群结队穿着红白相间的尼龙罩衣和粉红色帽子的妇女。我站在矮墙上想看到西瑟尔，忽然间这变得很重要。我感觉要是我不能从这股红色尼龙洪流中把她分辨出来，她就消失了，我们将一起消失，我们的时间就将一钱不值。

On Sissel's second day I took the ferry across the river and waited for her at the factory gates. A few women stepped through a small tin door in a great windowless wall and a wailing siren sounded all across the factory complex. Other small doors opened and they streamed out, converging on the gates, scores of women in pink-and-white nylon coats and pink caps. I stood on a low wall and tried to see Sissel, it was suddenly very important. I thought that if I could not pick her out from this rustling stream of pink nylon then she was lost, we were both lost and our time was worthless.