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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七十七
不明白这片反光有什么意义,不大的水面,树叶都落光了,灰黑的枝杆,最靠近的一棵像是柳树,再远一些更接近水面的两棵可能是榆树,面前的柳树蓬松细细的枝条,后两棵光秃的枝桠上只有些小杈,那反光的水向上不知是否结了冰,天冷时,早晨有可能结上一层,天空灰蒙蒙的像要下雨,没有雨,没有动静,树枝并不摇曳,也没有风,都凝结了,如死一般,只有那么一点音乐,飘忽而不可捉摸,这几棵树长得都有些歪曲,两棵榆树分别多少向右向左倾斜,那高大些的柳树主干则偏向右,在主干上生出的三根几乎同样粗细的枝权又都向左,毕竟取得了一种平衡,然后,就固定不动了,像这片死水,一张画完了的画,不再有任何变化,也没有改变的意愿,没有骚乱,没有冲动,没有欲念,土地和水和树和树的枝桠,水面上几道黑褐色,称不上洲,渚,或岛屿,只能算是水中隆起的几小块土地,可毕竟还有点意味,否则,这水面就单凋得不自然,水边还长着一棵引不起注意的小树,在最右边,长得不高,向四面分出好些技子,像干枯的手指,这比喻未必恰当,张开就是了,并无收拢的意图,而手指可以收拢,都没有意味。最近的这棵柳树下,有块石头,供人坐着乘凉的?还是水大漫过来的时候行人可以倒脚不湿鞋子?也许什么都不为,也许根本就不是石头,不过两个土块,那里可能是一条路,或近乎于路,通向这水面?水大的时候又都会被淹没,柳树第一根枝桠分开的高度,和这枝桠平行处,像是一道堤,水大时该成为岸,可又有不少缺口,水也还会再漫延过来,这近乎堤岸处并非完全静止,有一只鸟从那里飞起,落到柳树细网状的枝条里,要不是看它飞落上去,真难以察觉,存在与不存在只在于是否飞动,鸟儿到底活生生,细看还不止一只,在树下地面上跳动,飞起又落下的都比刚才那鸟要小,也没那么黑,很可能是麻雀,那么隐藏在柳树枝条里的该是一只八哥,如果它还未曾飞走,问题只在于觉察与否,并不在于有与没有,有而未曾发觉便如同没有,对岸又有什么在移动,水面的那一边,灰黄的草丛之上,是一辆车子,后面有一个人在推,前面躬腰的该是拉车的人,一辆胶皮轮子的板车可以载重半吨,它缓缓移动,不像麻雀,几乎觉察不到,只是认识到是车子时才注意到它会动,这都取决于意念,意念认为有路那便是路,便是一条正正经经的路,即使雨后涨水也不至于淹没,从灰黄的草丛上方还可以追溯断断续续的一线,再找寻车子,却已经走得很远了,进入到柳树梢里,一眼看去以为是个鸟巢,进人树梢之前既已确认为一辆车子,看去便自然是车,悄悄移动,而且负载很重,一车砖石或一车泥土,这景象中的树、鸟、车子,也思索自身的意义?这灰色的天空同反光的水面和树、鸟、车子又有什么联系?灰色的…天空…一片水面…树叶落光了…没一点绿色…土丘…都是黑的…车子…鸟儿…使劲推…不要激动…一阵一阵的波涛…麻雀在聒噪…透明的…树梢…皮肤饥渴…什么都可以…雨…锦鸡的尾巴…羽毛很轻…蔷薇色…无底的夜…不错…有点风…好…我感激你…无形的空白中…一些带子…卷曲…冷…暖…风…倾斜了摇晃…螺旋…现在交响…大大的…虫子…没有骨骼…深渊里…一只钮扣…黑的翅膀…张开夜…到处是…急躁…火点亮…工笔的图案…连着黑丝绸…一只草鞋虫…细胞核在细胞质里旋转…先生眼睛…他说格式…有自生的能力…一个耳垂…没有名字的印痕…不知道什么时候下的雪,不知道什么时候停的。洁白薄薄的一层,枝头上还没来得及囤积。柳树斜的主干上反方向生出三个枝权变得乌黑。那两棵张开的榆树,一棵向左,一棵向右,枝头上方原先泛光的水面白净一片,像雪落在平坦的水泥地上,水面肯定结了冰。那难以称之为洲、渚、岛屿的土丘成了黑的影子,要是不知道原先是土丘就不会明白为什么成为黑影,即使知道原先是土丘也还不明白为什么积不了雪。再远,草丛也还是草丛,依然发黄,之上显出了一条路的意识,依然看不分明。张开枝桠的那棵小树上方能找出白色的向上爬行的曲线,那辆板车想必先前就从这里推上坡去。此刻,路上没有车,也没有行人,雪地上行人该非常分明。柳树前的两块石头或类似石头的土块也没有了,雪把这些细节全都掩盖,走过的路雪后反而像脉络一样显露出来。就这样一番平时不加注意的景色,在心中造成一些印象,让我突然生出一种愿望,想走进去,走进这片雪景里,就会成一个背影,这背影当然也不会有什么意义,如果不在这窗口注视那背影的话。暗淡的天空,雪地比天空更加明亮,没有八哥和麻雀,雪吸收了意念和涵义。