His column was global in its reach. Portuguese pronunciation, Indian languages and Chinese characters found a home alongside the more obvious German and French, Greek and Latin. Despite the odd potshot at the yoof and yobs, he wrote admiringly of Caribbean patois, black American vernacular and rural English dialects. Johnny Grimond, who wrote most of The Economist's style guide, calls him a keen contributor-but mostly to suggest rules for deletion, not addition. His column (twice) quoted Churchill as saying the rule forbidding a preposition at the end of a sentence was the kind of nonsense “up with which I will not put".
他的專(zhuān)欄覆蓋全球。葡萄牙語(yǔ)、印度語(yǔ)和漢語(yǔ),以及更明顯的德語(yǔ)和法語(yǔ)、希臘語(yǔ)和拉丁語(yǔ),都有他的蹤跡。盡管他對(duì)粗暴無(wú)禮的小年輕進(jìn)行了古怪的抨擊,但他對(duì)加勒比方言、美國(guó)黑人方言和農(nóng)村英語(yǔ)方言的描寫(xiě)令人欽佩。《經(jīng)濟(jì)學(xué)人》風(fēng)格指南的大部分作者約翰尼•格里蒙德稱(chēng)他是一位熱心的貢獻(xiàn)者——但主要是建議刪除規(guī)則,而不是增加規(guī)則。他的專(zhuān)欄文章(兩次)引用丘吉爾的話說(shuō),禁止在句末使用介詞的規(guī)定是“我不同意的”。
Alas, Churchill never said it--the kind of misstep Stephen would not have made in the age of Google. Indeed, he did not mention the internet until a Christmas piece in 1999. He drank in the world's languages the old-fashioned way. He was born in Egypt, brought up in Scotland, and was variously an encyclopedia salesman in America, a soldier in Germany and a junior journalist in India. And be was a lifelong reader.
唉,丘吉爾從來(lái)沒(méi)有說(shuō)過(guò)這句話——在谷歌時(shí)代,斯蒂芬不會(huì)犯這樣的錯(cuò)誤。事實(shí)上,他直到1999年的一篇圣誕文章才提到互聯(lián)網(wǎng)。他以傳統(tǒng)的方式沉醉于世界語(yǔ)言。他在埃及出生,在蘇格蘭長(zhǎng)大,在美國(guó)當(dāng)過(guò)百科全書(shū)推銷(xiāo)員,在德國(guó)當(dāng)過(guò)士兵,在印度當(dāng)過(guò)初級(jí)記者。而終身都在閱讀。
A stubborn legend pursued Stephen--that he threw a typewriter out of his office window in a rage. Or perhaps intended to, but failed to break through the glass. Or perhaps it was a phone, through a window in an internal door. No two versions of the story are the same; he himself denied it, in a history of The Economist published in 1993. But, he told the book's author, he could understand why people might believe it.
一個(gè)頑固的傳奇人物追著斯蒂芬——他在辦公室里怒氣沖沖地把一臺(tái)打字機(jī)扔出了窗外。或者可能是故意的,但卻沒(méi)能打破玻璃。或者可能是一部電話,通過(guò)內(nèi)部門(mén)上的一扇窗戶(hù)。沒(méi)有兩個(gè)版本的故事是相同的:在1993年出版的《經(jīng)濟(jì)學(xué)人》歷史中,他本人否認(rèn)了這一點(diǎn)。但是,他告訴這本書(shū)的作者,他可以理解為什么人們會(huì)相信它。
Yet his frantic bursts of irascibility would be followed by graceful and kind conversation, as though nothing was untoward. Friends and colleagues remember surprising tendernesses. He collected glass artefacts. He lavished affection on children visiting the office. Perhaps his most lyrical piece for the paper was a tour of the English churchyards be cherished, finding poignant gravestones of both great and humble. And yes, he was in love with language.
然而,在他狂怒的爆發(fā)之后,隨之而來(lái)的是優(yōu)雅而親切的交談,仿佛一切都很正常。朋友和同事都記得令人驚訝的溫柔。他收集玻璃工藝品。他對(duì)來(lái)訪的孩子們溫柔慈愛(ài)。也許他為報(bào)紙寫(xiě)的最有詩(shī)意的一篇文章是《珍愛(ài)英國(guó)教堂墓地之旅》,在那里他發(fā)現(xiàn)了一些令人心酸的墓碑,有偉大的、也有謙遜的。是的,他愛(ài)上了語(yǔ)言。
He knew words could be weapons, but they were the best kind. His son David recalls a cover of The Economist that showed a Palestinian and Israeli shouting in each other's faces, and his father saying "What a hopeful picture that is.” To his puzzled child's inevitable “why?” he replied: “they're talking to each other."
他知道語(yǔ)言可能成為武器,但曾經(jīng)成為最好的武器。他的兒子大衛(wèi)回憶起《經(jīng)濟(jì)學(xué)人》的一期封面,封面上一個(gè)巴勒斯坦人和一個(gè)以色列人對(duì)著對(duì)方大喊大叫,他的父親說(shuō):“這是一幅多么有希望的畫(huà)面啊。”對(duì)他困惑的孩子不可避免的“為什么?”他回答說(shuō):“他們?cè)诨ハ嘟徽劇!?/p>
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