鄉(xiāng)愁徘徊在那一條街

維·蘇·奈保爾(V. S. Naipaul) 1932年出生于加勒比海島國特立尼達(dá)中部查瓜納斯的一個(gè)印度裔社區(qū)。他六歲時(shí)隨家人移居首都西班牙港，18歲獲得特立尼達(dá)政府提供的獎(jiǎng)學(xué)金，赴英國牛津大學(xué)攻讀文學(xué)專業(yè)，畢業(yè)后曾在BBC供職。22歲時(shí)，奈保爾完成了第一部小說《米格爾街》(Miguel Street)。該小說于1959年出版，次年獲得了毛姆小說獎(jiǎng)。此前，奈保爾就已經(jīng)發(fā)表了小說《靈異推拿師》(The Mystic Masseur)和《埃爾維拉的選舉權(quán)》(The Suffrage of Elvira)。除了上述作品，奈保爾的代表作還有《畢斯瓦斯先生的房子》(A House for Mr. Biswas)、《在一個(gè)自由的國度》(In a Free State)、《河灣》(A Bend in the River)等。奈保爾的小說反映出后殖民時(shí)代現(xiàn)代人的身份認(rèn)同危機(jī)。2001年，奈保爾獲得了諾貝爾文學(xué)獎(jiǎng)。

Excerpts

We went for long walks together. We went to the Botanical1) Gardens and the Rock Gardens. We climbed Chancellor Hill in the late afternoon and watched the darkness fall on Port of Spain2)， and watched the lights go on in the city and on the ships in the harbour.

He did everything as though he were doing it for the first time in his life. He did everything as though he were doing some church rite.

He would say to me， “Now， how about having some ice-cream?”

And when I said yes， he would grow very serious and say， “Now， which café shall we patronise3)?” As though it were a very important thing. He would think for some time about it and finally say， “I think I will go and negotiate the purchase with that shop.”

The world became a most exciting place.

One day， when I was in his yard， he said to me， “I have a great secret which I am now going to tell you.”

I said， “It really secret?”

“At the moment， yes.”

I looked at him， and he looked at me. He said， “This is just between you and me， remember. I am writing a poem.”

“Oh.” I was disappointed.

He said， “But this is a different sort of poem. This is the greatest poem in the world.”

I whistled.

He said， “I have been working on it for more than five years now. I will finish it in about twenty-two years from now， that is， if I keep on writing at the present rate.”

“You does write a lot， then?”

He said， “Not any more. I just write one line a month. But I make sure it is a good line.”

I asked， “What was last month’s good line?”

He looked up at the sky and said， “The past is deep.”

I said， “It is a beautiful line.”

B. Wordsworth said， “I hope to distil4) the experiences of a whole month into that single line of poetry. So， in twenty-two years， I shall have written a poem that will sing to all humanity.”

I was filled with wonder.

Our walks continued. We walked along the sea-wall at Docksite one day， and I said， “Mr. Wordsworth， if I drop this pin in the water， you think it will float?”

He said， “This is a strange world. Drop your pin， and let us see what will happen.”

The pin sank.

I said， “How is the poem this month?”

But he never told me any other line. He merely said， “Oh， it comes， you know. It comes.”

Or we would sit on the sea-wall and watch the liners come into the harbour.

But of the greatest poem in the world I heard no more.

I felt he was growing older.

“How you does live， Mr. Wordsworth?” I asked him one day.

He said， “You mean how I get money?”

When I nodded， he laughed in a crooked way.

He said， “I sing calypsoes5) in the calypso season.”

“And that last you the rest of the year?”

“It is enough.”

“But you will be the richest man in the world when you write the greatest poem?”

He didn’t reply.

One day when I went to see him in his little house I found him lying on his little bed. He looked so old and so weak that I found myself wanting to cry.

He said， “The poem is not going well.”

He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking through the window at the coconut tree， and he was speaking as though I wasn’t there. He said， “When I was twenty I felt the power within myself.” Then， almost in front of my eyes， I could see his face growing older and more tired. He said， “But that—that was a long time ago.”

And then—I felt it so keenly—it was as though I had been slapped by my mother. I could see it clearly on his face. It was there for everyone to see. Death on the shrinking face.

He looked at me， and saw my tears and sat up.

He said， “Come.” I went and sat on his knees.

He looked into my eyes， and he said， “Oh， you can see it， too. I always knew you had the poet’s eye.”

He didn’t even look sad， and that made me burst out crying loudly.

He pulled me to his thin chest and said， “Do you want me to tell you a funny story?” and he smiled encouragingly at me.

But I couldn’t reply.

He said， “When I have finished this story， I want you to promise that you will go away and never come back to see me. Do you promise?”

I nodded.

He said， “Good. Well， listen. That story I told you about the boy poet and the girl poet， do you remember that? That wasn’t true. It was something I just made up. All this talk about poetry and the greatest poem in the world， that wasn’t true， either. Isn’t that the funniest thing you have heard?”

But his voice broke.

I left the house and ran home crying， like a poet， for everything I saw.

I walked along Alberto Street a year later， but I could find no sign of the poet’s house. It hadn’t vanished， just like that. It had been pulled down， and a big， two-storied building had taken its place. The mango tree and the plum tree and the coconut tree had all been cut down， and there was brick and concrete everywhere.

It was just as though B. Wordsworth had never existed.

1.botanical [b#601;#712;taelig;n#618;k(#601;)l] adj. 植物的

2.Port of Spain：西班牙港，原為印第安人居住地，1774年成為特立尼達(dá)首都，1802年被英國人統(tǒng)治，1962年特立尼達(dá)和多巴哥共和國獨(dú)立，西班牙港成為首都。

3.patronise [#712;paelig;tr#601;na#618;z] vt. (經(jīng)常)光顧，惠顧

4.distil [d#618;#712;st#618;l] vt. 吸取……的精華；提煉

5.calypso [k#601;#712;l#618;ps#601;#650;] n. (西印度群島)即興諷刺歌(具有爵士音樂特點(diǎn)，節(jié)奏靈活，常用以諷刺時(shí)事，臧否人物)

作品欣賞

英國浪漫主義詩人威廉·華茲華斯曾經(jīng)在《我曾在陌生人中間作客》一詩中寫道：“我曾在陌生人中間作客/在那遙遠(yuǎn)的海外/英格蘭！那時(shí)，我才懂得/我對(duì)你多么摯愛。”我們對(duì)故鄉(xiāng)往往懷有類似的情感：身在其中，并不覺得它有什么特別；離開之后，夢(mèng)魂中，記憶里，卻會(huì)一次又一次在那里眷戀、徘徊。故鄉(xiāng)是我們?nèi)松o(hù)照上的第一個(gè)簽章。我們成為今日的我們，因?yàn)槲覀兾羧諄碜员颂帯！睹赘駹柦帧肥且徊繋в凶詡黧w色彩的小說。寫作《米格爾街》的時(shí)候，奈保爾剛剛22歲。他四年前離開特立尼達(dá)，來到牛津大學(xué)讀書。新的生活令他產(chǎn)生了強(qiáng)烈的隔膜感。雖然身處名校，但他過得并不快樂，甚至曾嘗試過自殺。故鄉(xiāng)的景物、曾經(jīng)的鄰居反復(fù)在他的記憶中浮現(xiàn)。它們召喚著他，促使他完成了《米格爾街》。這是他的第一部作品。透過小說的敘述者，我們能深深體會(huì)到，奈保爾那望向故鄉(xiāng)的眼睛滿含著去國離家的鄉(xiāng)愁。

《米格爾街》是一部長篇小說，卻可以拆開當(dāng)做短篇小說集來讀。整部小說由17個(gè)短篇組成，每個(gè)短篇描寫了米格爾街上的一位住客。他們既是自己故事的主角，也是他人故事里的配角。這些人物的身影集合在一起，構(gòu)成了米格爾街這個(gè)小社區(qū)。

在小說中，米格爾街是特立尼達(dá)首都西班牙港的一個(gè)貧民住宅區(qū)。在這個(gè)社區(qū)里，能夠當(dāng)上卡車司機(jī)，穿上藍(lán)色的工作服，每天清晨到富人區(qū)去運(yùn)送垃圾，就已經(jīng)是一份人人羨慕的職業(yè)了。這里住著一群奇奇怪怪的人物：從沒做過一件衣服的裁縫博加特、不會(huì)做家具只會(huì)偷東西的木匠波普、酗酒的妓院老板喬治、瘋子一樣的布道師曼門、一心一意要造出美麗煙花的焰火師墨爾根、和七個(gè)男人生了八個(gè)孩子的勞拉。他們深陷在卑微的生活里，是一群無力改變命運(yùn)的小人物。愛情破滅、青春凋殘、才華消散、夢(mèng)想陷落，小人物的人生自有他們的邏輯和故事。奈保爾的筆下帶有三分嘲謔，笑他們的愚昧、狂妄、狡黠、做作、無能、懦弱；更有五分溫情，理解他們?nèi)诵灾械娜觞c(diǎn)，眷戀他們的天真善良，憐憫他們受命運(yùn)撥弄的無奈；還有兩分羨慕，羨慕他們堅(jiān)忍地在這個(gè)世上活著，對(duì)各種不可理喻的夢(mèng)想有著分外的執(zhí)著。而負(fù)責(zé)替奈保爾傳達(dá)這些復(fù)雜情感的，則是奈保爾在小說中所創(chuàng)造出的敘述者“我”。

小說采取的是第一人稱的主觀視角。敘述者“我”也是米格爾街上的一位住客。在這個(gè)世界上，只有孩子有著最純凈透明的眼睛。小說中的敘述者就是這樣一個(gè)孩子。他抱著信任而天真的心態(tài)，接納穿行于自己生命中的各色人等，這些人對(duì)他的成長也產(chǎn)生了潛移默化的影響。以英文節(jié)選部分所選的《B·華茲華斯》為例，該節(jié)故事的主人公給自己取名叫做“布萊克·華茲華斯”，為的是向英國浪漫主義詩人威廉·布萊克以及威廉·華茲華斯致敬。他的理想是要寫出全世界最偉大的詩作。當(dāng)人們都忙著賺錢，想要出人頭地時(shí)，他在專注地觀察蜜蜂的飛行。他用羞怯、敏感、溫和、好奇對(duì)待一切，也為他所觸碰的一切帶來了詩性的光芒。敘述者便是從與他的親近中發(fā)現(xiàn)了美，懂得了美。在臨終前，他向敘述者坦誠他想要寫出偉大的詩，但是才情不逮。借由這一刻，懵懂無知的敘述者體會(huì)到了什么是理想的美好和現(xiàn)實(shí)的殘酷，理解了什么是宿命的悲哀。

想做詩人的華茲華斯離開了這個(gè)世界。有人夷平了他的舊家，蓋起了一幢丑陋的兩層新樓。有關(guān)他曾經(jīng)在這個(gè)世界上生活過的證據(jù)就這樣煙消云散。但是，華茲華斯卻活在了敘述者的記憶里。小說中，敘述者在成長中所碰到的每一個(gè)人都在他生命中留下了印記。他生活在米格爾街，看著身邊的成年人戀愛、結(jié)婚、破產(chǎn)、死亡。他的視角，從孩子看待成人世界時(shí)充滿羨慕的仰視，漸漸切換成少年的迷惘和懷疑，直至成年人看待成年人時(shí)了然的平視。小說開篇，敘述者熱切崇拜著一個(gè)叫做海特的成年人。在他的心中，海特聰明、熱情、有趣、有膽氣，是智慧和成熟的化身。可是在敘述者15歲的時(shí)候，海特因發(fā)現(xiàn)妻子與別的男人私奔差點(diǎn)把妻子殺死，為此入獄三年。出獄后的海特感慨地發(fā)現(xiàn)敘述者已經(jīng)長大成人；而在敘述者眼中，海特也失去了神圣的光環(huán)，只是一個(gè)平庸得有點(diǎn)發(fā)悶的老人。

年輕的好處是人生處在破繭期，還有機(jī)會(huì)實(shí)現(xiàn)化身成蝶的夢(mèng)想。毛毛蟲迫不及待地奔向未來，對(duì)繭殼里的世界沒有太多留戀。敘述者18歲時(shí)獲得了政府獎(jiǎng)學(xué)金，即將前往英國讀書，“我離開他們，步履輕快地朝飛機(jī)走去，沒有回頭看，只盯著眼前我自己的影子，它就像一個(gè)小精靈在機(jī)場跑道上跳躍著。”而米格爾街依舊是昔日的模樣，并沒有因?yàn)閿⑹稣叩碾x開而發(fā)生任何變化。它自有它需要承載的生命，見證著命運(yùn)的輪回，見證著人們?cè)谶@里誕生，在這里耗盡終生。

敘述者的離開使他逃離了宿命。只是離開時(shí)他沒有想到，在未來，他會(huì)一次又一次地想起這條街。正如奈保爾離開特立尼達(dá)的時(shí)候并沒有想到，英國牛津的風(fēng)景會(huì)讓他一再想起加勒比海邊的故鄉(xiāng)。

曾經(jīng)見過老人手里的烏木念珠，每一顆都因被反復(fù)撫摸而有了歲月的光澤。奈保爾的米格爾街，在作者記憶與想象的反復(fù)撫摸下，也像老人手里的烏木念珠一樣閃爍著溫柔的光芒。