評論
打印
I had a hard time getting into it. The narrator was an old man, but he sounded more like what a young woman thought an old man might sound like.
我花了很長時(shí)間才讀進(jìn)去。敘述者是個(gè)老人，但他聽起來更像一個(gè)年輕女人認(rèn)為的老人。
Whenever I was tempted to give up on it, I thought of David. He had just started reading Infinite Jest.
每當(dāng)我想放棄的時(shí)候，我就會(huì)想到大衛(wèi)。他剛剛開始讀《無盡的玩笑》。
I pushed through the first two chapters and discovered a new narrator in the third.
我匆匆讀完了前兩章，在第三章發(fā)現(xiàn)了一個(gè)新的敘述者。
I loved the alternating points of view. I carried the book to work.
我喜歡這種交替的觀點(diǎn)。我?guī)е@本書去上班。
I read at lunch and on my walk home, occasionally lifting my eyes to avoid strangers and uneven concrete.
我在午餐時(shí)間和回家的路上都在看它，偶爾抬起眼睛避開陌生人和不平整的混凝土。
“How’s your day?” David texted. “Good. A little tired,” I replied.
“你的一天怎么樣？”大衛(wèi)發(fā)短信問我?！昂芎?。有點(diǎn)累?！蔽一卮?。
“I stayed up late and finished my book.” I tried to slip it in casually, but I was proud of myself.
我熬到很晚，看完了我的書。我曾想過隨便看看它，但我是很有自尊心的一個(gè)人。
The last time I’d pulled an all-nighter to read, I was 12 and the book was Little Women.
我上次熬夜讀書是在12歲的時(shí)候，那本書是《小婦人》。
It was not a competition, but there was a tug. I felt him pushing me to be more of the person I used to be and more of who I wanted to be.
這不是一場比賽，但有一個(gè)推力。我感到他在推動(dòng)著我，讓我更像過去的自己，更像我想成為的人。
Whenever he turned to discussing his current nonfiction book about the rise of Silicon Valley or environmental philosophers,
每當(dāng)他談到他正在出版的關(guān)于硅谷崛起或環(huán)境哲學(xué)家的非小說類書籍時(shí)，
I would tell him of fiction, of men who left their countries by hiding in boxes only to climb out and turn into birds.
我給他講小說，講那些離開祖國躲在箱子里，最后爬出來變成鳥的人。
I would remind him that sometimes the only way to explain the world we live in is to make it all up.
我會(huì)提醒他，有時(shí)候解釋我們生活的這個(gè)世界的唯一方法就是編造。
I asked David once what he liked about me. He paused, then said, “You make me less cynical.
有一次我問大衛(wèi)他喜歡我什么。他停頓了一下，然后說：“你讓我不再那么憤世嫉俗了。
I see the world as a more wonder-filled place with you.” David suggested we visit the library again.
有了你，世界變得更加美好。大衛(wèi)建議我們再去一次圖書館。
He asked if I remembered the game we played on our first visit. “I remember,” I said.
他問我是否記得我們第一次來的時(shí)候玩的游戲。“我記得，”我說。
He pulled a book from the shelf, dropped to one knee, and opened it.
他從書架上抽出一本書，單膝跪下，把它打開。
Inside, his Post-it read: “Karla, it has always been you. Will you marry me?”
里面，他的即時(shí)貼上寫著：“卡拉，一直都是你。你愿意嫁給我嗎？”
His proposal had rested between the pages of The Rebel Princess for over a year. “Yes,” I said. “I’ll marry you.”
他的求婚在《叛逆的公主》書中擱置了一年多。“愿意，”我說?！拔乙藿o你?！?/div>
We embraced in the middle of the fiction aisle, surrounded by other people’s stories, about to begin our own.
我們在小說區(qū)中間擁抱在一起，被其他人的故事包圍著，即將開始我們自己的故事。
