Soul Mountain (chinese)
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"Soul Mountain is one of those singular literary creations that seem impossible to compare with anything but themselves… In the writing of Gao Xingjian literature is born anew from the struggle of the individual to survive the history of the masses."
– from the citation of the Nobel Prize committee of the Swedish Academy
When this year's Nobel Prize for Literature was awarded to Chinese expatriate novelist and playwright Gao Xingjian, few in the English-speaking West were familiar with his work. Gao's masterpiece, SOUL MOUNTAIN (PerfectBound, an e-book from HarperCollins; February 20, 2001; $19.95), is a dazzling kaleidoscope of fiction, philosophy, history and fable. Elegantly translated by Australian sinologist Mabel Lee, this richly textured autobiographical novel recounts a dual journey-a literal journey into the heart of China and a spiritual journey of the self.
When Gao was 43, he was incorrectly diagnosed with lung cancer. Resigned to death by the same means that had claimed his father just a few years before, Gao spent six weeks indulging his appetites and reading philosophy. The spot on Gao's lung mysteriously disappeared, but a new threat arose when rumors began to circulate that he was to be sent to a prison farm because of his controversial writings. No longer facing imminent death, the writer quickly left Beijing and disappeared into the remote forest regions of Sichuan, then spent five months wandering along the Yangtze River from its source down to the coast. Gao's 15,000 kilometer sojourn forms the geographic parameters of the fictional journey in SOUL MOUNTAIN.
While on a train at the start of his trip, the writer protagonist meets another traveler who says he is going to Lingshan, "soul mountain," which can be found by the remote source of the You River. The writer has never heard of such a place, and he resolves to go there, but his fellow traveler can give him none but the vaguest directions. Thus begins a metaphoric odyssey into the hinterlands of China and the outlying Qiang, Miao and Yi districts that dangle on the fringes of Han Chinese civilization.
The writer is in search of the traditions that are hidden in rural China, and as he travels he encounters a parade of unforgettable characters who embody both vestiges of the past-Daoist masters, Buddhist monks, ancient calligraphers-and the modern culture that has surfaced since the revolution: small town communist cadres, budding entrepreneurs, independent young girls grappling with parochial repression. The two worlds exist uneasily as one, with stories and customs from centuries past colliding with a world of televisions, automobiles, and technology. All is permeated by the dark legacy of the Cultural Revolution, the encroachment of ecological damage, and the harsh monetary realities of everyday life in contemporary China.
SOUL MOUNTAIN is a dazzling work of the imagination, where classic fables merge with tales of modern cruelty and ancient philosophy does battle with existentialism. But Gao goes deeper still as he explores notions of the devastation of the self at the hands of social expectations. He continually shifts his narrative voice as the "I" of the writer becomes the "you" of an imagined companion, then the "she" of a woman companion. Yet all reflects back on the protagonist, who craves these two seemingly contradictory ends-the solitude necessary for nurturing the self and the anxiety-provoking warmth of human society.
Gao began this novel in the mid-eighties, then carried the manuscript with him when he fled China in 1987. Now living in Paris, he completed the book there in 1989. His writings continue to be banned in his native country. As Gao's work at last gains the public's attention here in the West, SOUL MOUNTAIN provides a dazzling introduction to the achievement of one of contemporary literature's acknowledged masters.
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二十八
从石奸到江口的公路上，当中拦了条红带子，我乘坐的这辆长途客车被一辆小面包车截住，上来了带红袖章的一男一女。人只要一带上这红袖章就有一种特殊的身分，都气势汹汹。我以为又追查或通缉什么人，幸好只查看旅客是否买了票，不过是公路管理部门派出的检查员。
这车开出不久第一次停靠时司机已经查过一次票，一个想溜下车的农民被司机关上车门卡住了手里一口麻袋，硬逼他掏了一张十元钱的钞票，才把他的麻袋扔到车外。全然不顾车下那农民骂骂咧咧，司机一踏油门，起动了，那农民只得赶紧跳开。大概是山区车辆少的缘故，坐在方向盘的位置上比车上的乘客多一层威风，一车人对他都有种无法掩饰的反感。谁知上车查票带红袖章的男女比司机更蛮横，那男的从一位乘客手里抓过一张车票，朝司机勾勾手指：
"下来，下来！"
司机竟也乖乖下车。那女人填写了一张单子，罚他三百元，是那张漏了撕角三元的车票的一百倍。一物降一物，不只在自然界，也是人世的法则。
先是听司机在车下解释，说他根本不认识这乘客，不可能拿这车票再卖，继而又同检查人员争执起来。不知是由于实行了新的承包制司机的收入超过他们，还是就为了显示红袖章的威严，他们铁面无私，毫不通融。司机大吵大闹之后又做出一副可怜相，苦苦央求，足足折腾了一个多小时，车还是走不了。无论是罚款的还是被罚的都忘了这一车关在车里在烈日下蒸烤陪罚的乘客。众人对司机的反感又愈益变成对红袖章的憎恨，全都敲窗子叫喊抗议，戴红袖章的女人才明白她已成为众矢之的，赶紧扯下罚款单，朝司机手里一塞。另一位扬了一下手中的一面小旗，检查车开了过来，他们这才上车，一阵灰尘，扬长而去。
司机却朝地上一蹲，再也不肯起来。众人从车窗探出头来，不免好言相劝。又过了半个多小时，人渐渐失去耐性，开始对他吼叫，他这才好不情愿上了车。
刚开了一程，路过一个村子，并无人上下，车却在路边停住，前后门噗嘘两下全开了，司机从驾驶舱跳下去，说了声：
"下车，下车！这车木走了，要加油。"
他一个人运自走了。一车人先还都赖在车上，白白发了通牢骚，见无人理会，只好一个个也都下车。
公路边上除了家饭铺，还有个卖烟酒杂货的小店，支出个凉棚兼卖茶水。
太阳已经偏西，棚子下还很燥热。我连喝了两碗凉茶这车还不见加油，司机也没他人影。奇怪的是凉棚下或是树荫里歇凉的一车乘客不知不觉都已走散。
我索性进饭铺里去搜寻，只有空空的方桌和板凳，真不明白人都那里去了。我找到厨房里才见到这司机，他面前的案板上摆着两大盘炒菜，一瓶白酒，老板陪坐正同他聊天。"这车什么时候走？"我问，自然没好气。
"明天早起六点，"他也没好气回我一句。
"为什么？"
"你没见我喝酒了？"他反问我。
"罚你款的不是我，你有火也不能冲乘客来，怎么这都不明白？"我只好耐住性子说。
"酒后开车要罚款你知道不知道？"
他果真喷着酒气，满脸一副无赖的样子，看着他嚼食时皱起的头皮下的一双小眼，我一股无名火起，恨不能抓起酒瓶朝他砸过去，于是赶紧从饭铺里出来。
我回到公路上见到路边这辆空车，才顿时醒悟到人世本无道理可言，不乘车不就免除了这些烦恼？也就无开车的乘车的无查票的无罚款的，可问题是还得找个地方过夜。
我回到茶棚子，居然有一位同车的也在。我说：
"这车他妈的不走了。"
"知道，"他说。
"你哪里过夜？"
"我也在找。"
"这一车的人上哪里去了？"我问。
他说他们是本地人，怎么都有个去处，也不在乎时间，早一天晚一天对他们来说无关紧要。唯有他，来自贵阳市动物园，他们收到印江县的一个电报，说是山里的农民逮到了一头四不像的怪兽，他必须今晚赶到县城，明早还要进山，晚去了怕这东西死掉。
"死就死吧，"我说，"能罚你款？"
"不，"他说，"这你不明白。"
我说这世界没法子明白。
他说他说的是这四不像，不是世界。
我说过四不像和世界难道有好大的差别？
他于是掏出一张电报给我看，上面的电文果真写道："本县乡民活捉一四不像怪兽，火速派人鉴别。"还说他们动物园有一回得到一个电话，说是山水冲下来一只四五十斤的大娃娃鱼，等他们派人赶到，鱼死了且不说，肉都叫村里人分吃了，尸体无法复元，标本当然也做不成。他这会务必等在公路边上，看有没有车子可截。
我同他在公路边上站了好一会，有几辆货斗开过，他一再摇晃手上的一纸电文，人都不予理会。我又没有拯救这四不像或者这世界的任务，何必在此吃灰？索性到饭铺吃饭去了。
我问瑞菜来的女服务员，这里能不能留宿？她好像我问的是她接不接客，狠狠瞪了我一眼，说：
"你没看见？这是饭铺！
我心里发誓再也不乘这车，可前去少说上百公里，要徒步走的话至少得两天。
我再回到公路边上，动物园的那人不在了，也不知他搭上便车没有。
太阳快要下山，茶棚里的板凳收了进去。公路下方传来略步鼓声，不知又闹什么名堂。从上看去，坡下村寨里一家家瓦顶披连，相间的屋场上霜的石板。再远是层层水田，早稻收割了，有的田里乌泥翻起，已经犁过。
我循着鼓声向坡下走去，有个农民从田埂上过，挽着裤脚，一腿肚子泥巴。更远处，有个孩子牵着牛绳，把牛放进村边的一口水塘里，我望着下方这片屋顶上腾起的炊烟，心中这才升起一片和平。
我站住了，听着村寨里传来的鼓声。没有司机，没有戴红袖章的检查员，没有这惹人生气的汽车，也没火速鉴别四不像的电报，一切复归于自然。我想起我弄到农村劳动的那些年里，如果没有后来的转机，我不也同他们一样照样种田？也一腿肚子泥巴，放工之后，甚至懒得就洗，并没有现在的焦躁。我又何必急着去哪里？没有比这暮色中的炊烟，瓦顶，这又逼近又遥远的鼓声更自然的了。
反反复复的鼓点像在诉说一个没有言辞的传说，喃喃呐呐。水色天光，变得灰暗了的屋顶，那屋场间接缝依稀可辨灰白的一块块石板，晒得暖和的泥土，牛喷出的鼻息，从屋场传来吵架样的说话声，还有晚风，头顶上树叶飒飒的抖动，稻草和牛栏里的气味，搅水的声音，不知是门轴还是水井上木轴转的吱呀作响，叽叽喳喳的麻雀和什么地方一对落巢的斑鸠的咕嗜声，女人和小孩子的尖声叫唤，苦艾的气味和飞鸣的虫子，脚下表面晒干了底下还松软的泥巴，潜在的欲望和对幸福的渴求，鼓声在心里唤起的震动，也想打赤脚和坐到人家磨得乌亮的水门槛上去的愿望，都油然而生。
