第八届方重翻译奖

英译汉一等奖译文

我了解到这门课程叫“作者是如何写作的”。在每周的这门课上，你们都会接触到不同的作者对于这一主题大谈特谈。在我看来，这种情形简直能跟每次把动物园中的一种动物带到你们面前展示相提并论。并且，我怀疑你们在上一周听到的长颈鹿的言论和下一周狒狒的说法会相互矛盾。

当我在思考今天晚上应该跟你们说些什么时，我遇到的难题就是如何来解释“作者是如何写作的”这一主题。首先，就不存在“特定的作者”这一种说法。如果你现在对这一点还不清楚，那么我想，在这门课程结束后，你应该就会明白了。事实上，我预感到你们必然会明白的。

但是，现在越来越多的人对作者及其工作方式产生好奇。而当一位作者谈到这一话题时，他应当先摒弃错解和谬误，再开始考虑他想要说些什么。当然，我不像看起来那样不谙世事。我深知，那些所谓对写作抱有热诚的人中只有少部分优质于创造出好的作品。大部分人只是想要发表一些什么，如果可能的话，还能借此大赚一笔。他们只是想要成为一个作者，而并不是对写作感兴趣；他们只是想看到他们的名字印在某些出版物的封面上，而并不关心是何种出版物。他们似乎觉得只要去了解一些如“工作习惯”、“市场”、“时下大众取向”之类得话题，他们的这一愿望就能得以实现。

如果上述这些也是你们想要收获的，那我或许帮不上什么忙。我觉得作者的外在习惯很少会有相像的情况，因为这会受到作者的常识和个人处境的影响。能够使一位真正的作者感兴趣的并非这些外在习惯，而是雅克·马利坦所提出的“艺术习惯”——马利坦解释道，在这一语境下，“习惯”一词所指的是内心某种特定的品质。就像科学家有着“科学习惯”，艺术家也有着“艺术习惯”。

至此，我最好来解释一下我用“艺术”一词想要表达什么。当人们听闻“艺术”一词，便会望而却步，因为“艺术”听起来过于宏大。但是我用这一词语想要表达的只是写出一些自身有价值、有作用的作品。不论是从内容还是形式上来看，事实是艺术的基石。一个追寻艺术的人或多或少在他的作品中也会展示出对于事实的寻求。圣托马斯曾经说，艺术家关心的是作品的益处。稍后我对于小说这一主题的感想也将基于圣托马斯的这句话来进行阐述。

现在你会发现这样的做法规避了对于很多事物的讨论，例如：对于作者写作动机的关心，除非作者在作品中有所表露；对于市场中的读者的关注；以及那些宣称写作是为了表达自我和那些宣称写作是为了赚钱的人之间的冗长争论。

在这一点上，我总是想起亨利·詹姆斯。我不知道有谁比他更爱财，但我也知道没有一位艺术家比他更加认真尽责。诚然，有时那些不尽人意的作品能比优秀的作品得到更多的经济回报：如果你能写得足够糟糕，你也能赚到一大笔钱。但这并不意味着如果你写得令人满意，你的作品不会被出版。当然，如果你想同时拥有优秀的写作技能和优越的生活条件，你最好考虑一下继承一笔财产、嫁给一位证券经纪商或者娶来一位会打字的富家女。在上述情况下，不论你是通过写作来赚钱生财还是表情达意、实现公民权利还是激怒你的奶奶，这都只是你和你的作品分析者之间的事，而这一讨论的出发点会是书面作品的益处。

我将要谈论的书面作品是故事创作，这也是我唯一有所涉猎的一种书面作品。不论是长篇小说，还是较短的篇幅，只要其中特定的人物和故事线通过相互作用形成了有意味的叙事，我都把它们称为故事。我发现，很多人只有当他们坐下来写故事的时候，才真正明白什么是故事。他们会发现自己写下了一篇或是穿插着散文的故事梗概，或是穿插着情节的议论文章，或是拥有人物形象的社论，或是赋予教育意义的个案史，又或是其他一些混杂的东西。当他们意识到他们并不是在写故事，他们就决定去学习一些“短篇小说技巧”或是“长篇小说技巧”之类的东西来弥补。在很多人看来，技巧是呆板而僵硬的，它就像是你把内容套入一个特定的公式。然而，在优秀的故事中，技巧是有机而统一的，它是与内容对应而契合的。因此，每个故事的写作技巧都是不同的。

我觉得我们必须开始从最基本的层次来看待故事。我想要谈谈小说最不常见的一个特点：具体性，当然，还有随之而来的其他一些特点。在这一点上，我们会关注读者的基本意识，因为小说的本质在很大程度上是由我们的感知能力来决定的。读者通过感官产生触动，你不能用抽象的事物来触动这些感官。对大多数人来说，陈述一个抽象的想法远比对某些他们实际看见的东西进行描述乃至二次创作要来得容易。可是，小说作者的世界充满了问题，这也是那些新手们非常不乐意见到的。他们关注抽象的思想和情感；他们常常会成为革新者；他们想要写作，因为他们会为某些抽象概念着迷，而并非被具体的故事所吸引。他们意识到的是棘手难题，而不是特定的人；是疑问和重要问题，而不是生物的存在结构；是个案史和一切与社会学有关的事物，而不是那些解开我们为何存在于地球之上的具体生命细节。

听说这门课叫“作家是如何写作的”，每周都会有不同的作家来给你们讲课。对此我唯一能想到的类比，就是把动物园搬到你们面前来，每次来一个动物。并且，我怀疑这周长颈鹿给你们讲的内容和下周狒狒讲的内容会互相矛盾。

在思考今晚应该给你们讲什么的时候，我自己遇到的难题是，怎么去解释“作家是如何写作的”这个课程名。首先，所有作家都不一样。如果你们现在还不知道这一点的话，等你们上完这门课应该就懂了。实际上，至少这一点你们是肯定能学到的。

很多人对作家和他们的工作方式感到好奇。当一个作家说到这些事情的时候，总是要先扫除一些误解和偏见才能开始说他想说的内容。我当然不像表面看起来那么不谙世故。我很清楚，那些自称对写作感兴趣的人，很少有对写好感兴趣的。他们感兴趣的是出版作品，可能的话，还希望能“大火一把”。他们感兴趣的是作家这个身份，而不是写作这件事。他们感兴趣的是看见自己的名字印在书的封面上，至于是什么书就无所谓了。并且，他们似乎觉得，只要学一学作家的工作习惯，了解一下市场和当下合适的主题，就能出书。

如果你们感兴趣的是这些事情，那我帮不到你们。我觉得一个作家外在的习惯是由他的常识水平和个人境况塑造的，很少有两个人有一样的习惯。真正的作家感兴趣的不是外在的习惯，而是马利坦所说的“艺术习惯”。马利坦解释说，这里的“习惯”指的是思维的某种特质或优点。科学家有科学习惯，而艺术家，有艺术习惯。

我最好在这里暂停一下，先解释我说的“艺术”是什么意思。艺术这个词很容易把人吓跑，因为听起来有点太过高级。但是我所说的艺术仅仅是指写有价值的内容，写有内在逻辑的内容。艺术的基础是真实，包括物质的真实和状态的真实。一个在工作中追求艺术的人，追求的是真实，他是在想象中追求真实。圣托马斯曾说，艺术家关注的是人创造出的美好。那么我接下来就要从这句话出发来聊聊小说。

你们会发现，这个视角会将很多东西排除在我们的讨论之外。不用考虑作家的动机，除非作品的内容包含了这个动机。也不用考虑读者市场的反应。有人说他们写作是为了表达自我，有人说他们写作是为了赚钱，这两派之间无休止的争论也不用去考虑。

在这一点上，我总是会想到亨利·詹姆斯。他是我所知道的最热衷于赚钱的作家，也是我所知道的最认真的艺术家。如今，坏作品比好作品获得的报酬要多得多，我觉得这确实是事实。在有些情况下，只要你做到写得够差，就能赚大把的钱。但这不是说如果你写得好，就没办法出书。不过如果你既想写好书，又想过得好，那你最好去继承点遗产，或者嫁个股票经纪人，或者娶个会用打字机富婆。不管怎样，无论你写作是为了赚钱，还是为了表达自我，是要捍卫公民权利，还是想气你外婆，这些都是你和你的分析师的事，我们讨论的出发点应该是作品的质量。

我要谈的作品类型是故事，因为我只对这方面有点了解。不管小说的长度如何，是长篇还是短篇，我都把它叫做故事。只要具体的人物和事件相互推动形成了有意义的叙事，我就把它叫做故事。我发现，很多人知道什么是故事，但是动笔写的时候就迷糊了。结果，他们写出的要么是一篇穿插着散文的故事概述，要么是一篇穿插着故事概述的散文，要么是一篇有人物的社论，要么是一篇有寓意的个案史，又或者是其他的杂交产物。当他们意识到自己写的不是小说，为了补救，他们就觉得应该学点他们口中的“短篇小说写作技巧”或“长篇小说写作技巧”。很多人会觉得技巧是很死板的东西，就像是把一个公式套到素材中；但是，优秀故事里的技巧是有机的，是在素材的基础上生成的，也因此，每个类型每个故事的技巧都是不一样的。

我觉得我们必须从更加基础的层面来思考故事，所以我想谈谈小说的一个特质，那就是，小说必须具体，这也是我所认为的小说的最低标准，然后我还会从此延伸谈谈其他几个特质。要想写的具体，我们就要关注读者最基本的感觉，因为小说的本质在很大程度上取决于我们感知器官的本质。人最开始就是通过各种感官来学习的，而小说作家正是从人所感知到的地方入手。他通过感觉打动读者，而抽象概念是无法打动人的。对于大多数人来说，陈述一个抽象的想法，远比描述并重构一个他们真实看见的物体要容易得多。但是小说作家的世界里全是具体事物，新手作家非常厌恶写这些东西。他们主要感兴趣的是没有实体的想法和情绪。他们喜欢当改革的人，他们写作往往不是因为想写一个故事，而是因为脑海里有一个大概的抽象的想法。他们看见的是问题，而不是人；他们看见的是疑问和议题，而不是存在的纹理；他们看见的是个案史以及社会大事件，而不是让我们在地球上的存在之谜变得真实起来的生活的种种细节。

第八届方重翻译奖

汉译英一等奖译文

People who love tea love the art of tea. 

From their perspective, there are many noteworthy details for making a proper cup of tea: boiling water, choosing fresh tea, and washing tea leaves before brewing them. Even the length of time for brewing tea and the selection of tea set have their own certain rules.

My squad leader also loved tea, but unlike the common tea lovers, he loved to drink overnight tea. His tea was vine tea which was sent from his hometown. Every night before he went to bed, he would pinch out a handful of the vine tea leaves, throw them into his enamel cup covered with tea stains, pour in the boiling water and close the lid to brew a cup of tea, the perfect thirst-quenching drink for the next day. 

All his soldiers persuaded him not to drink overnight tea, for it did harm to his health. 

However, he rolled up his sleeves, showing his muscled arms, and refuted, "I've been drinking overnight tea for so many years and haven't seen my health get any worse."

My squad leader had seniority in his position. He was in the army for three years during which he was serving as the squad leader.

He was very strict with the soldiers and even stricter with himself.

Every year he would participate in the martial art contest organized by the regiment on behalf of our company. And every year he would win a gold medal for the company, which pleased our company commander and made him laugh joyfully. 

My squad leader also giggled. He looked silly, which amused our company commander. 

"Hey boy, you are really something! You have me split my sides," laughed the commander. 

Our company commander, who had just graduated from a military academy, was energetic, enthusiastic, and ambitious. 

Due to his admiration for my squad leader, he determined to send my squad leader to the military academy. He often came here to instruct the squad leader in his studies.

On a moonlit night with few stars in the sky, after emergency muster, he seized the squad leader and said, "Boy, get prepared. The regiment gave us only one place at the military school."

"Me?" asked the squad leader, surprised.

"I order you to pass the selection test! I attained this enrollment quota by gulping down a whole bottle of Laobaigan[1]!" said the commander, patting the squad leader's shoulder.

"Yes Sir, I pledge to complete this task!" The squad leader suddenly became hot-blooded.

Having accepted the task, the squad leader plunged into the ocean of books. 

He did not break the habit of drinking overnight tea. Instead, he got another cup to drink the tea when reading books at night. 

The overnight tea made him feel pleased and satisfied from the bottom of his heart, leaving a lasting aftertaste in his mouth, and got him out of fatigue of reading. 

On that night, before going to bed, he was putting tea leaves into his enamel cup, and before he could add some water, the company commander came in. He saluted the commander reverently and respectfully. 

Nevertheless, the commander scrutinized the tea-stained enamel cup on the table with a solemn expression and said, "I've heard you like drinking overnight tea?"

"Yes, Sir," he scratched the back side of his head and giggled.

"Do you know overnight tea is bad for your health?" The commander's face grew more solemn.

"Yes, Sir," murmured the squad leader.

"I order you to abstain from drinking tea!" said the company commander.

"Sir, I can't brace myself up without tea," he replied. 

"I don't admire people who don't cherish their own life and I won't allow my soldiers to neglect their health," said the commander sullenly. "You must quit it!"

Before leaving, he threw all of the squad leader's vine tea into a trash can.

The squad leader lost his tea as if he lost his soul. However, he was a tough man after all. Suffering the pain of longing for tea, he gritted his teeth and endured the days without tea.

As the day of the exam was getting closer and closer, the squad leader reviewed for it more and more intensely. He would often read books all night and the next day lead the training for his soldiers as usual. 

The company commander asked, "Have you quit tea?"

"The first duty of a soldier is obedience," he said.

"Attaboy, that's my man," the commander laughed.

The squad leader also giggled.

And then the commander said, "You certainly can go to the military school!"

He replied with a standard military salute.

While they were talking, a new recruit practiced throwing grenades. I do not know whether he did not get the hang of it or whether he was just too nervous, the grenade dropped from his hand in front of him. 

Everybody was stunned.

"GET DOWN!" ordered the squad leader.

He rushed forward, picking up the grenade. Before he could throw it away, suddenly there was a loud bang. 

My squad leader lay in a pool of blood...

Everyone was shocked.

"Sergeant! Sergeant! Sergeant!"

However, the yells and screams did not call back the life of the lively squad leader. 

Holding him in his arms, the company commander sobbed, "I make a cup of tea for you, huh?"

"I want overnight tea." The squad leader squeezed out a few words with all his strength.

"No problem." Tears rolled down the commander's face.

Many years went by. Although now the company commander becomes the major general, every Qingming Festival[2] he will bring an enamel cup of overnight tea to my squad leader’s grave.

[1]Laobaigan, also called Hengshui Laobaigan, a famous brand of Chinese Baijiu, Chinese distilled spirits.

[2]Qingming Festival, also known as Tomb Sweeping Festival or Tomb-Sweeping Day in English, is a traditional Chinese festival observed on April 4th or 5th. On the festival, family members will take a trip to the countryside or visit the graves of their ancestors together with some offerings to show their reverence. 

Those who love tea value the tea ceremony. Boiling water and fresh tea leaves are needed, and preparing tea is not a casual thing: It is recommended to pour away the first infusion of the tea and start on the second infusion. Also, there are certain rules regarding the length of tea-brewing time and the choice of tea wares. Sarge loved tea. Yet unlike other tea persons, he enjoyed drinking overnight tea. Sarge's tea was sent from his hometown, called vine tea. Every night before sleeping, Sarge gathered a handful of the tea leaves, threw them into his enamel cup that was crusted with tea stains, poured the boiling hot water into the cup, and then put the lid on. A nice cup of tea was made, Sarge's favorite drink to quench the next day's thirst. The soldiers all said, "Sarge! Overnight tea is no good, bad for health." Then Sarge would tighten his arms, a bunch of muscles revealing. "I've been drinking overnight tea for so many years. I still have a strong body, don't I?"

A seasoned squad leader, Sarge had served the army for three years and had led the squad for another three years. Sarge was strict with others and was much stricter with himself. Every year Sarge would represent the company in the regimental military contest. Every year he would bring back a shining golden medal. The company commander laughed joyfully. Seeing the company commander laugh, Sarge would laugh as well, grinning happily. Sarge's goofy grin would make the company commander laugh more heartily. "Good for you, lad! Don't make me laugh so hard!"

Just out of the military academy, the company commander was hot-tempered and high-spirited, who appreciated Sarge and was resolved to send Sarge to the academy. Thereby, he often came here to guide Sarge. On a moonlit night, the company commander gripped Sarge's arm after the emergency assembly. "Lad, study hard!" he said to Sarge, "Our regiment will pick one to the academy." "Me?" Sarge was surprised. The company commander tapped Sarge on the shoulder. "I command you to pass the exam!" said the company commander, "I gulped down a whole bottle of liquor to get you this spot!" Sarge felt the blood coursing in his veins. "Company Commander, I promise to complete the task!"

Since Sarge received the task, he immersed himself in the books. Instead of changing his old habit, Sarge prepared another enamel cup that was reserved for the nighttime study. Drinking overnight tea while studying, Sarge felt the fragrance of tea spread in his heart. Studying at night would no longer tire him.

One night, before bed, Sarge put some tea leaves into his enamel cup. When he was about to add water, the company commander appeared. Sarge saluted him, yet the company commander looked sulky. The company commander stared at the two enamel cups on the table that were crusted with tea stains. "I heard you like overnight tea." Sarge scratched the back of his head, grinning. "Yes." The face of the company commander darkened. "Don't you know overnight tea is bad for health?" "Yes, I do." Sarge muttered. "I command you to quit drinking tea," said the company commander. "Company Commander," Sarge replied, "without tea, I can't keep my spirits up." "I don't like those who abuse their health. I won't allow my soldiers to abuse their health. You must quit drinking tea." said the company commander in an angry voice, who threw all Sarge's vine tea into the trash can before leaving.

Without overnight tea, Sarge seemed to lose his source of power. Yet Sarge was a tough man with a spirit strong enough to restrain his longing for tea and bear those difficult tealess days.

As the examination day approached, Sarge had to study more intensively. He often studied all night and the next day led the training as usual. The company commander asked him, "Did you quit drinking tea?" "Soldiers are trained to obey commands." answered Sarge. The company commander was amused, "Good for you, lad." Sarge grinned broadly. Then the company commander said, "You must get into the academy." Sarge replied with a smart salute. While they were talking, a new recruit was practicing grenade-throwing. Maybe he did not get the hang of it. Maybe he was too nervous. The grenade fell in front of him. Everyone was petrified. "Get down!" Sarge shouted the command as he rushed there and grabbed the grenade. Before he could throw it away, a loud bang was heard. Sarge was found lying in a pool of blood.

Everyone was shocked. "Sarge! Sarge! Sarge!"

They were calling, desperately, yet this could not bring back a lively Sarge. The company commander held Sarge whose body was covered with blood. "Let me make you some tea, OK?" With the last remaining strength, Sarge uttered these words, "Over…night…tea…please…" Tears streamed down the face of the company commander, "Sure."

Many years later, the company commander was promoted to major general. Still, every Tomb-sweeping Day, he would make some overnight tea in an enamel cup and bring it to Sarge's grave.