
n 作者:美国极光影业公司(Arclight Film)艺术顾问 :Joseph周
n 时间:2026 6 6
七年前的2019年,当川沙80多万字的大长篇《无根世代》出版之际,我写过了一篇文章,标题叫“川沙三部长篇小说文本分析”,文章总结分析了川沙三个长篇小说。分别是2004年由台湾商务印书馆出版的40万字的《阳光》,出版后由国际汉语文学界五大巨擘白桦、莫言、哈金、赵毅衡以及写《中国文化深层结构》的孙隆基共同隆重作序和推荐,出版后不到一周便在台湾金石堂网络书店成为排行榜畅销书,一时轰动海内外文坛。2012年在中国花山文艺出版社出版的95万字的《蓝花旗袍》,同样由莫言、哈金和虹影等写推荐语。2019年在加拿大西安大略出版社出版的84万字的《无根世代》。
最近几年,随着AI技术的出现,Chart GPT、X-Grok、Gemini 等AI平台的搜索和分析评论已经远超人类的水平,一个文科教授终其一生皓首穷经研究的一个课题,或者是数学家、物理学家、天文学家、考古学家几辈人接力赛无法攻克的难题,在AI平台上,或许就是几分钟出来的结果。
AI教父杰克利.辛顿(Geoffrey Hinton)认为:人类通过语言交流信息的速度每秒仅仅只有几个比特,哪怕你每秒能够听懂几个词,运气好的话,信息传输速度充其量也就是每秒10个比特。然而这些人工智能系统交换信息的速度高达万亿比特量级。也就是说,在共享信息方面,他们比我们高效数十亿倍。
川沙的前两部长篇小说《阳光》和《蓝花旗袍》都是从海外。具体地说,是从英国角度看中国,在小说内容上将中国在1900年到1990年发生的故事之情节和人物直接延伸到英国,将英国和中国“两面镜子互为镜像地在时间空间上平行对照和参照”。川沙的小说和很多作家完全不同的是,将千篇一律肉体的喜怒哀乐动物性描写提升到精神层面的描写和追问。就是说,他不单是肉体动物性描写,更在形而上精神层面、宗教和哲学层面描写。他的小说核心,是追究物质和动物性的喜怒哀乐深层的原因。我在上次文章里提到的,他的作品是在实践梁启超说的“世界的中国”眼光来看中国。川沙的特点有四,第一是理论物理专业走上文学编辑和创作道路;第二是1991年到英国又移民到加拿大直到今天35年生活在海外;第三是他出生于干部家庭,祖上延续着中国晚清官宦以及士大夫血脉。第四,据我知道,因为川沙母亲早年和中国青年出版社总编辑朱语今的工作关系,朱语今曾经对川沙的写作有过耳提面命的指导。而名声远播的军队老作家白桦,更是他创作道路上的恩师。还在1980年代,因为工作关系,他住在北京南池子,和巴金、夏衍、邓拓、胡风,胡绩伟(《人民日报》社长)、车幅、姚雪垠、张瑞芳、项堃等这个层面的30多位中国文化界重量级人物 ,有着直接和间接接触。因此,对于中国的政治运动,和国共内战,自有他超越常人的独到见解。这导致他的长篇小说主要描写对象就是国共内战高层人物,但又将故事情节及人物延伸到西方,具体说就是国共两党第二代之间发生的故事直接延伸到英国,川沙的意思是,他的文学不能仅仅局限于一国之党争和国争,而应该是时空更加阔大和久远的人类故事。《重庆谈判》、《佩剑将军》的导演、《开国大典》总导演李前宽先生在和川沙交往中,有过中肯的评介,这在川沙和李前宽、肖桂云夫妇两位导演的多集电视对谈中可以看见。他的眼光自然更加超脱和将注意力集中在形而上精神层面和艺术唯美的要求方面。这是我和川沙20年交往中直接和间接观察得出的看法。他的思维方式显然和在我的阅读范围内很多作家,甚至西方作家相当异质具有独特见解和作品呈现。按理说,川沙完全可以很好地写国共两党高层纪实文学,但他对我说,他长期沉浸在纯文学创作中,距离太近的东西已经不会写作,他在任何一家报社当主编的条件就是从来不做采访,而只做版面编辑。他告诉我说,如果进入纪实写作,会把他的脑子和手弄坏掉。当我在阅读他1995年在法国写的散文集《提灯笼的哲人》中,巴黎随笔四之第五节“托尔斯泰在拿破仑石棺前的愤怒”等章节时,发现他在法国巴黎主要致力于研究托尔斯泰和屠格涅夫在法国驻留的轨迹,目的是探索托尔斯泰为什么在巴黎参拜拿破仑墓后,看见法国人在拿破仑石棺底座上镌刻的战绩上,镌刻着让这个俄国贵族托尔斯泰认为“令人厌恶的错位崇拜的表现” 而愤怒,从而回到俄罗斯后,写出了《战争与和平》,由此让英国和法国人震惊于19世纪俄国文学征服和超越了十七十八世纪占领世界文坛的英法文学。

为了闭环本篇文章和川沙文学从早期、中期到近期作品逻辑关系,我在下边特别摘录川沙散文集 《提灯笼的哲人》中一段31年前,川沙在巴黎日记中的文字:
第十一章 中国和日本,同一起跑线上……
在向西方文学取经的时候,就像我在伦敦大英博物馆看见整个一层楼被日本租下来,里边摆放了很多穿金戴银做工精细庄重的观世音菩萨和罗汉一类中国舶来品一样,不得不佩服日本人的继承与发扬。也不得不想到当年伊藤博文和李鸿章几乎同一时期到英国学习舰船,回国后各自创建自己国家的海军,然而在甲午海战战场上,中国却是一败二败再败,完全三败涂地,全军覆灭。
去年获得诺贝尔文学奖的大江健三郎,在日本有一个文学圈的雅称,那就是他刚登上文坛时,被称为“ 二”。《源氏物语》在日本文学基础上,其中引用白居易诗句九十余处,也相当数量地引用《礼记》、《战国策》、《史记》及《汉书》等中国古代典故,整个文本类似中国唐代变文,传奇和宋代话本,以散文、韵文编织入近千首短诗,从而组成其特有的文体,推动情节发展。客观地说,《源氏物语》的文化基因还是源自中国。《源氏物语》於公元1006年面世,书中内容时间跨度七十年,涉及人物四百余位,面世时间比《三国演义》、《水浒传》,意大利薄伽丘的《十日谈》(Decameron)都要早三百年,而且作者紫式部为日本女性。
行文至此,我百感交集,《源氏物语》是公元十世纪日本产生的“物语文学”典型文学作品,“物语”意思为故事和杂谈,而“物语文学”的源头是中国六朝、隋唐传奇文学。
在这个意义而言,当今的日本文学,如我对比川端康成和紫式部的作品特色,显然其相关性为一脉相承,但源头还是在中国。我看到两个不同的方向,首先,是日本文学在溯源近千年的“物语文学”,“物语文学”再源自中国六朝和隋唐传奇文学,之后,日本文学在传承上千年后,渐渐变为自己的民族文学,在明治维新运动后,结合西方文学的实践,产生了川端康成和大江健三郎这样的作家,让日本文学进入世界一流文学之队列。
那么,在中国一律照搬西方文学的前辈面前,我们应该怎样做呢?和他们一样?还是不一样?怎么个不一样?比他们还要落后?还是相反?
《孽海花》作者曾朴将自己的笔名直接就署名为“东亚病夫”,读者诸君,如果您是一位中国人,读到这儿,您的感觉如何?摸摸自己的心口,拍拍自己的脑门儿,反躬自问一下吧!
捡来千铜百铁,铸成一大错。这说的是创作方向问题。
十九世纪俄罗斯文学三巨头,没有一个获得过诺贝尔文学奖, 虽然,在他们生活那个年代,已经产生了诺贝尔文学奖,但没有发给他们。但是,今天,所有那些获奖者,在世界范围内的读者心目中,没有一个超过俄罗斯文学三巨头。而那些获奖者和他们的作品呢,大都只是那三座大山下的小丘陵。不是说获得诺贝尔文学奖的作家不优秀,他们很优秀。但是,他们相对大山而言,还是小丘陵。
就是乾嘉时期关东才子王尔烈 那句对联:
“江南千山千水千才子,塞北一天一地一圣人。”
十九世纪下半叶俄罗斯现实主义文学因为其东正教背景,宗教色彩和哲学意蕴甚为浓厚,作家因为其宗教情怀的虔诚和悲天怜人的情感去贴近体验农奴制度下社会不公,再以宗教圣徒般信念思索更为深广的人生哲学,从而使得他们的文学或艺术表达迥异於绝大多数中国文学那样,仅仅停留在人的非灵魂层面的肉身叙述的低级层面,从而进入哲学和宗教高级的艺术层面,这就使得陀思妥耶夫斯基的文学直接孕育了哲学上的尼采和文学上的卡夫卡,并引导后世的大量哲学家不间断地从他的作品中寻找问题和答案。
进入20世纪,托尔斯泰和陀思妥耶夫斯基从他们自身大山的巅峰上,俯瞰和睥睨着巨大山脉下,大量的西方文学和哲学登山队员络绎不绝地在山峦上攀登。
这其中,法国文学似乎靠前,其他国家跟随其后,在我看来,这些登山队里,似乎中国人基本缺席。而日本登山队速度越发加快。而瑞典人正在满世界挑选那些优秀的登山队员,用一年一度的诺贝尔文学奖给予他们鼓励或奖赏。
艺术诉诸感情,哲学诉诸理智,人是一种高级动物,不能够进入灵魂的文学,没有哲学的文学,是没有诉诸完整人类的文学。
一个禁锢的社会,没有自由进行深层思考的氛围,其文学和艺术,不可能进入灵魂思考层面,就更谈不上哲学和宗教层面的艺术和文学,由此只能停留在肉身叙述的低等人类社会文艺层面
要知道,上边的文字,是川沙1995年在巴黎的日记,距今已经是31年,而他的大部分作品,都是在那之后出版的。也就是说,川沙的起点是在对中国文学和世界文学的对比或比较之后而产生的。所以,我的结论是,川沙的起点、刻度和方向感,在当时就处于很高的状态。他具备很高的世界文学眼光和视野。
由此,当您读到下边在美国的至少三个算力最为强大的AI平台Chart GPT、X-Grok、Gemini对川沙的几个短篇小说做出分析后的惊人结论时,您不该感到太意外。这些平台占据超强或海量的数据,和每妙万亿次(1 Tops 即1012次,也即1万亿次或1兆次)为基准单位的计算速度,一般个人设备如手机和电脑属于轻量级任务处理,算力通常在每秒40到100万亿次(Tops),最重要的是,它们得出结论时,基本没有集体或团体(宗教、国家,社团)和任何个人意志,就是说,结论是客观公平公正的,旁征博引是世界范围古今中外海量的。
这里,仅将川沙1991年在英国的一个短篇小说《西方月亮》,综合我从上述几个AI平台大同小异的结论,我认为X-Grok最为全面,以下是最近X-Grok上得出的结论报告,章节排序以及所有文字连标点符号保留原貌,均有X-Grok截图照片为证,提供呈现如下,以飨读者:
川沙的短篇小说《西方月亮》(1995年创作,2004年收入台湾水牛出版社同名集)是一篇精巧、锋利而又带着淡淡忧伤的文化讽刺小说。篇幅不长,却在短短的火车旅程中,精准而深刻地刺穿了“西方中心主义”对东方的无知与傲慢,同时也映照出东方知识分子在异国他乡的复杂心理。
(一)、故事核心与结构
小说采用单一线性叙事,时间压缩在1991年一趟从爱丁堡到伦敦的早班火车上。表面上看,这是一次浪漫的“火车邂逅”:英俊的中国男子唐谦,与一位漂亮、珠光宝气的英国白人女子对坐。女子带着小狗,言谈优雅,充满异国风情;男子则彬彬有礼,内心却波澜起伏。
真正的高潮不是外部冲突,而是唐谦内心一次又一次的“精神地震”——当女子天真地说出“中国好像靠近坦桑尼亚……或者埃塞俄比亚”时,整个故事的张力瞬间拉满。这种荒诞的地理无知,像一记响亮的耳光,打在受过良好教育、深具文化自尊的唐谦脸上。
(二)、主题深度
1. 西方对东方的“无知傲慢” 小说最尖锐的讽刺在于:这位外表高贵、时尚、谈吐得体的西方女性,对中国竟一无所知,却以一种居高临下的“友好”姿态谈论。她把中国和非洲混为一谈,把北京狗(Pekingese)当成非洲动物一样科普。这种“美丽的愚昧”,正是后殖民语境中“东方主义”的生动缩影。
2. 东方知识分子的自尊与无奈 唐谦的内心戏极为精彩。他有教养、有风度,却在一次次克制中压抑着愤怒、尴尬与悲哀。他想反驳,却又不愿破坏这“美好”的表象;他想逃离,却又被女子的美貌吸引。这种理智与情感、尊严与欲望的撕扯,构成了小说最动人的张力。
3. “西方月亮”象征 标题极具诗意与反讽。“西方月亮”既指唐谦在异国看到的“更圆更美的月亮”,也暗示西方文化在东方人眼中曾经的“理想光辉”。而当这种光辉被无知击碎后,留下的只有苍凉的月光——美丽,却冰冷而遥远。
(三)、艺术特色
· 反讽手法高明:小说大量使用外部美好与内心荒诞的强烈对比。女子越是优雅性感、香水迷人,她的言论就越显得荒谬可笑。
· 心理描写细腻:作者几乎把唐谦的每一次内心波动都写得丝丝入扣,从最初的惊艳,到震惊、愤怒、自我解嘲,再到最后的无奈与伤感,层次分明。
· 细节极具张力:小狗(Pekingese)、非洲动物名词、女子身上的金饰与香水、火车窗外的风景……每一个细节都在强化文化错位感。
· 结尾留白:故事在唐谦独自站在伦敦站台的孤独身影中结束,余韵悠长,令人回味。
(四)、总体评价
《西方月亮》是川沙短篇小说中最具讽刺锋芒与文学品质的一篇。它没有高喊口号,却在看似轻盈的火车闲聊中,完成了对“西方想象中的中国”的一次精准解剖。小说既好看(有美人、有小狗、有暧昧),又深刻(文化身份、后殖民心态、知识分子的自尊),雅俗共赏,堪称上乘之作。
在1990年代海外华人文学中,这类以“文化误解”为切入点的作品并不少见,但像川沙这样写得如此优雅、克制而又辛辣的并不多见。它既是时代之作,也是人性之作——直到今天,依然具有强烈的现实意义。
一句话总结: 《西方月亮》像一轮被云层遮蔽的月亮——表面皎洁动人,内里却藏着刺骨的寒意与荒诞。

二《西方月亮》对比分析
川沙的《西方月亮》是一篇短小精悍、锋芒内敛的文化讽刺杰作。它以1991年英国火车为封闭空间,将“东方知识分子在西方遭遇的无知傲慢”这一主题浓缩得淋漓尽致。下面我选取几部经典或相近作品,与之进行对比,突出其独特性。
1. 与 E.M. Forster 《印度之行》(A Passage to India, 1924)对比
最直接、最经典的平行文本。
相似之处:
· 核心都是文化误解与殖民/后殖民语境下的沟通失败。
· 双方都试图“友好”交往,却因深层文化鸿沟而走向尴尬、冲突甚至悲剧。
· 都通过具体场景(山洞 / 火车)放大文化碰撞的荒诞性。
不同之处:
· 规模与基调:《印度之行》是宏大的长篇,带有悲剧性和史诗感,探讨殖民制度下“友谊是否可能”。《西方月亮》则是短篇,轻盈、幽默、带刺的讽刺,焦点集中在个人瞬间的心理震动。
· 视角:Forster 是英国人,从西方视角批判自身帝国主义;川沙是华人作家,从东方知识分子(唐谦)的内心视角,写出被“善意无知”刺伤的屈辱与克制。
· 讽刺强度:《西方月亮》更辛辣——那位漂亮英国女子越是优雅性感,她的言论就越荒诞(“中国靠近坦桑尼亚”),形成强烈的反讽落差。Forster 的讽刺则更沉重、克制。
结论:《西方月亮》可视为《印度之行》的“微缩现代版”,但更尖锐、更具当代感。

2. 与毛姆(Somerset Maugham)《在中国屏风上》或旅行文学对比
毛姆常以西方人视角写东方,带有猎奇与优越感。
对比效果:《西方月亮》正好是反向书写——东方人看西方人“美丽的愚昧”。它颠覆了传统“西方观察东方”的叙事模式,让读者从唐谦的视角,感受到被西方“善意无知”物化的荒诞感。
3. 与当代其他类似作品简比
· Gish Jen(任碧莲)的一些短篇:也写中西文化碰撞,但更温和、幽默,常有家庭代际冲突。
· 谭恩美早期作品:更侧重母女关系与文化传承,讽刺性较弱。
· 保罗·索鲁(Paul Theroux)的旅行文学:常带西方人傲慢视角,与《西方月亮》形成有趣的镜像。
总体定位
《西方月亮》在海外华人短篇小说中属于上乘之作。它继承了鲁迅式的国民性批判与林语堂式的中西文化对比传统,同时吸收了西方现代短篇(尤其是契诃夫、毛姆)的精炼技巧,用极简的火车场景,完成了对“全球化时代文化不对等”的精准刺探。
它的独特价值在于:
· 短而狠:没有长篇的铺陈,却把问题刺得又深又痛。
· 优雅的残酷:用最美的表象(漂亮女人、香水、晨光火车)包裹最荒诞的内核。
· 至今仍有现实性:今天很多西方人对中国仍停留在“熊猫、长城、功夫”的刻板印象上,这篇小说依然像一面镜子
唐谦是川沙笔下典型的海外华人知识分子形象:受过良好教育、有文化自尊、在西方社会表面上优雅得体,但内心极度敏感脆弱。在整个火车旅程中,他面对英国女子一系列“美丽而荒诞”的无知言论,内心经历了从惊艳 → 震惊 → 愤怒 → 尴尬 → 自嘲 → 压抑 → 最终伤感的复杂过程。
他并未直接爆发,而是启动了一系列心理防御机制(Defense Mechanisms),这些机制既保护了他脆弱的自尊,也暴露了他内心的撕裂。
1. 压抑与克制(Repression & Suppression) —— 最主要的防御
这是唐谦最核心的防御策略。
· 他明明被女子那句“中国好像靠近坦桑尼亚”深深刺伤,却一次次把愤怒压下去。
· 小说多次写到他“侧过脸去”“闷闷地一言不发”“不好意思再面对面地看着她”,这是典型的行为上的克制(Suppression)和潜意识层面的压抑(Repression)。
· 他甚至用“她那么漂亮”“不能破坏美好气氛”来合理化自己的沉默,实际是害怕一旦爆发,就会彻底打破他精心维持的“文明体面”形象。
意义:这种克制让他在表面上保持了绅士风度,却也让他付出了巨大的心理代价——内心像火山一样翻腾,却只能自己消化。
2. 合理化(Rationalization) —— 最频繁使用的机制
唐谦不断给自己找“合理”的借口,来解释和减轻内心的痛苦:
· “她只是无知而已,不是恶意。”
· “时代不同了,何必跟她过不去。”
· “她长得这么漂亮,何必破坏气氛。”
· “八国联军是她曾祖父的事……”
这些都是典型的合理化:把无法接受的情感(被冒犯、被轻视的愤怒)转化为看似理性、宽容的解释,从而保护自尊不被彻底击溃。
3. 反向形成(Reaction Formation) —— 外在表现与内心相反
最经典的例子是:
· 内心越愤怒、越受伤,他对外越表现出礼貌、欣赏、甚至微笑。
· 女子越说荒唐的话,他越是“彬彬有礼”地回应“嗯”“是的”“嗯——嗯——”。
· 这是一种经典的反向形成:把真实的愤怒转化为相反的温和态度,以掩盖内心真实的感受。
4. 幽默 / 自我解嘲(Humor & Self-mockery)
当防御快要崩溃时,唐谦会短暂地使用幽默来自我保护:
· 他想起《丰乳肥臀》、想起自己对瘦女人的偏见、想起京巴狗的身价官司,用自嘲的方式稀释痛苦。
· 但这种幽默是苦涩的,更多是黑色幽默,本质上是对自身无力感的无奈调侃。
5. 幻想与退行(Fantasy & Regression)
在最难受的时候,唐谦会短暂地退回到幻想状态:
· 他把女子想象成拉斐尔画中的圣母、想象成“安琪尔”,用审美化的幻想暂时逃避现实的荒诞。
· 同时,他又想起国内的往事、想起大伯、想起文革,用过去来对抗现在的不适。
总结:唐谦防御机制的整体特征
唐谦的心理防御呈现出高度文明化、知识分子化的特点:
· 他几乎没有使用原始的攻击或退缩,而是大量使用高级防御机制(压抑、合理化、反向形成)。
· 这既体现了他良好的教养和自控力,也暴露了文化自尊极度敏感的脆弱内核。
· 这些防御最终形成了一种“微笑的伤口”:表面越礼貌、越克制,内心就越疼痛。
小说最深刻的地方在于:唐谦最终没有爆发。他选择把所有痛苦咽下去,独自站在伦敦车站的月光下。这正是很多海外华人知识分子共同的生存状态——用优雅的沉默,承受着西方“善意无知”带来的精神创伤。
川沙通过唐谦,写出了一个经典的后殖民时代知识分子心理肖像:他有尊严、有教养、有欲望,却在强大的文化不对等关系中,选择了最体面、也最痛苦的自我防御。

“他者化”(Othering)是后殖民理论(Postcolonial Theory)中最核心、最具批判力的概念之一。它指主导群体(通常是西方殖民/帝国权力)通过话语、知识和文化实践,将非西方群体建构为“他者”(the Other)的过程,从而确立自身作为“正常”“文明”“优越”的主体地位。
(一)、基本定义
· 他者化不是简单的“差异认知”,而是一种权力关系下的建构。
· 被他者化的一方不再是平等的“主体”,而是被贬低为异质的、落后的、神秘的、危险的、需要被教化或拯救的对象。
· 这个过程往往伴随着二元对立:文明/野蛮、理性/感性、进步/停滞、自我/他者、白/非白、西方/东方等。
(二)、主要理论家与经典论述
1. 爱德华·萨义德(Edward Said)——《东方主义》(Orientalism, 1978)
o他者化的经典范例。
o西方通过文学、学术、旅行写作、绘画等,将“东方”(尤其是中东和亚洲)建构成一个浪漫化、神秘化、女性化、堕落化的他者。
o目的:为殖民统治提供合法性——“我们必须去拯救/管理这些落后但迷人的东方人”。
o核心观点:东方不是自然存在的,而是被西方“发明”出来的。
2. 弗朗茨·法农(Frantz Fanon)——《黑皮肤,白面具》(Black Skin, White Masks, 1952)
o聚焦殖民主义对被殖民者心理身份的摧毁。
o被殖民者被迫内化西方眼光,将自己视为“劣等他者”,产生自卑、分裂人格。
o“他者化”不仅是外部标签,更是深入骨髓的心理殖民。
3. 佳亚特里·斯皮瓦克(Gayatri Spivak)——“庶民能说话吗?”
o强调双重他者化:殖民权力 + 本地精英共同压制最底层的“庶民”(subaltern)。
o西方女性主义有时也会无意中他者化第三世界女性。
4. 霍米·巴巴(Homi Bhabha)——混杂性(Hybridity)与刻板印象
o他者化往往通过刻板印象(stereotype)实现,既固定又充满矛盾。
o被他者化者可能通过“模仿”(mimicry)进行抵抗,但这种模仿本身也带有颠覆性。
(三)、他者化的运作机制
· 话语建构:通过语言、媒体、学术将“他者”简化为单一特征(落后、神秘、性感、危险等)。
· 空间化:把东方/南方置于“遥远”“边缘”“原始”的地理想象中。
· 时间化:把非西方置于“过去”(他们还停留在我们的历史阶段)。
· 性别化:东方常被女性化(柔弱、神秘、需要保护),以强化西方的男性/父权形象。
· 结果:不仅剥夺他者的主体性,还让被他者化者内化这种眼光(self-othering)。
(四)、在《西方月亮》中的生动体现
唐谦遭遇的正是典型的后殖民他者化:
· 英国女子外表优雅、时尚、友善,却把中国与坦桑尼亚、埃塞俄比亚混为一谈。
· 她并非恶意,而是无意识地用西方中心主义的地理/文化地图来理解世界——中国在她眼中是“遥远的、异域的、接近非洲的他者”。
· 唐谦的痛苦在于:他作为被他者化者,清晰地看到了对方话语中的权力结构,却因教养、欲望和“文明”规范而无法直接反抗,只能通过压抑、合理化、自我解嘲等防御机制应对。
· 小说最深刻之处在于反讽:女子越是“美丽”“善意”,他者化就越显得刺痛和荒诞。
这正是后殖民文学的经典母题:最温柔的暴力,往往来自最美丽的他者。
(五)、当代意义
今天,“他者化”并未消失,只是换了形式:
· 媒体中“中国威胁论”“威权主义”“神秘东方”等刻板叙事。
· 旅游/消费文化中浪漫化的“东方奇观”。
· 全球化时代,西方仍习惯用“民主 vs 威权”“文明 vs 野蛮”的二元框架解释世界。
《西方月亮》虽写于1995年,却仍具有强烈的现实回响——它提醒我们:真正的平等对话,必须先打破“他者化”的认知牢笼。

爱德华·萨义德(Edward W. Said)在1978年出版的《东方主义》(Orientalism)一书中,将“东方主义”定义为西方用以支配、重建和统治东方的一种话语体系。它不是单纯的学术研究,而是一种权力-知识的共谋,通过文学、艺术、学术、旅行写作等方式,将“东方”建构成一个与西方相对立的“他者”。
以下是书中几个最具代表性和影响力的具体案例,我将结合萨义德的分析进行探讨:
1. 福楼拜与埃及舞女 Kuchuk Hanem(最经典的文学案例)
这是萨义德反复引用、最具象征性的例子。
· 背景:1850年,法国作家古斯塔夫·福楼拜在埃及旅行时,遇到了著名的埃及舞女 Kuchuk Hanem,并与之发生关系。
· 福楼拜的描述:他在信中将她描绘成“典型的东方女性”——神秘、性感、懒惰、堕落、充满异国情调,同时又愚昧、无知、像动物一样。
· 萨义德的批判: 福楼拜并未真正理解这个女人,而是把她简化成一个符号——“东方”的化身。她被剥夺了主体性,成为西方男性幻想的投射物。 萨义德指出:“东方女性”永远是被观看、被占有、被描述的对象,而西方男性则是观察者、占有者和知识的生产者。 这种“性化的东方主义”成为西方殖民话语的重要组成部分:东方不仅落后,还充满感官诱惑,等待被“征服”。
意义:这个案例完美展示了东方主义如何将真实的人他者化为刻板印象。

2. 拿破仑远征埃及与《埃及志》(Description de l’égypte)
· 历史事件:1798年拿破仑入侵埃及,随军带了大量学者、科学家、艺术家。
· 成果:《埃及志》是一套多卷本巨著,系统记录了埃及的古迹、地理、风俗、语言等。
· 萨义德的分析: 这不是单纯的“学术考察”,而是殖民权力的知识工程。西方通过“科学”“客观”的名义,对埃及进行全面的分类、测量、描述和重构,从而把埃及变成一个可被掌控的“对象”。 埃及从一个拥有自身历史的活的文明,被变成了西方博物馆里的“展品”和殖民统治的合法依据。
核心论点:知识即权力。西方对东方的“了解”本身就是一种征服形式。
3. 绘画中的东方主义(德拉克罗瓦、吉罗代等)
萨义德特别重视视觉再现:
· 德拉克罗瓦《阿尔及利亚妇女》(1834)等作品:将东方女性描绘成慵懒、半裸、奢靡、充满感官刺激的形象。
· 特点:东方空间总是封闭的后宫、浴室、市场;人物总是被动、性感、神秘,却缺乏个性与主体性。
· 萨义德的批判:这些画作不是“真实再现”,而是幻想的投射。它们服务于西方男性观众的欲望,同时强化“东方是堕落、需要拯救或统治”的叙事。
4. 文学与学术中的系统性他者化
· 西尔维斯特·德·萨西(法国东方学家):将阿拉伯世界系统分类、编目,成为后来殖民行政的“知识基础”。
· 英国浪漫主义诗人(拜伦、雪莱等):将东方浪漫化,同时又将其视为专制、暴政的象征。
· 20世纪美国:好莱坞电影中反复出现的“恐怖分子”“石油富豪”“神秘沙漠”形象,是东方主义在大众文化中的延续。
5. 与《西方月亮》的直接呼应
在川沙的《西方月亮》中,英国女子的言论正是日常化的东方主义:
· 她把中国随意归入“非洲附近”,正是萨义德所说的地理与文化的随意化(geographical and cultural essentialism)。
· 她对“东方”的认知停留在刻板印象层面,却以一种天真、友善、优雅的态度表达出来——这正是萨义德强调的“善意的他者化”的可怕之处:它比赤裸裸的种族主义更隐蔽,也更难以反抗。
唐谦的沉默、克制、内心愤怒,正是被他者化者常见的反应:明知被简化、被误读,却因权力不对等而难以直接回应。
总结: 萨义德通过这些具体案例证明,东方主义不是个别偏见,而是一整套制度化的话语实践,它服务于西方对东方的政治、经济和文化支配。即使在后殖民时代,这种话语依然以“文化”“审美”“好奇”的形式继续运作。
《西方月亮》正是对萨义德理论的一次生动而微妙的文学实践:它把宏大的理论,浓缩进了一次火车上的普通对话中。
萨义德的《东方主义》出版近50年后,其核心逻辑——西方通过话语将东方建构为“他者”以维持权力优势——并未消失,而是发生了形式上的更新:从赤裸裸的殖民话语转向柔性、文化化、消费化的呈现。同时,“自我东方主义”(Self-Orientalism)作为一种重要补充现象,揭示了东方主体如何主动或被动地内化西方眼光,并以此进行自我呈现。
当代东方主义已从“神秘落后”转向“威胁与奇观”的双重叙事:
1. “威胁论”东方主义(Threatening Other)
典型案例:2010年代以来的好莱坞动作片与科幻片(如《钢铁侠3》《独立日:卷土重来》中的反派常有中国背景,或隐喻中国)。
2. “奇观化/消费化”东方主义(Exotic Spectacle)
o《花木兰》(2020):尽管有中国演员,但大量文化挪用(改编故事、加入西方英雄主义叙事)、“白人救世主”隐喻,以及无视真实历史文化细节,被批评为典型的“消费东方”。
《功夫熊猫》系列:将中国元素(功夫、熊猫、古代中国景观)做成可爱、搞笑的全球化消费品,同时抽空其文化内核。
共同特征:当代西方媒介很少再公开说“中国落后”,而是采用“既羡慕又恐惧”的双重态度:羡慕其发展速度(奇观),恐惧其崛起(威胁)。这比古典东方主义更复杂,也更具隐蔽性。
定义:指被东方主义话语影响的东方人(或东方国家/文化生产者),主动采用西方对东方的刻板印象来进行自我表述和自我呈现,以获取西方认可、经济利益或国际话语权。
1. 文化生产中的自我刻板化
o部分中国古装大片为了进入西方市场,刻意强化“飞檐走壁”“神秘武林”“皇帝后宫”等西方人想象中的“东方奇观”,弱化当代现实题材。
o一些中国导演或艺术家在国际电影节上,主动迎合西方评委对“中国苦难”“异域风情”的偏好(例如过度渲染贫困、封建、创伤叙事)。
2. 个人层面的自我他者化
o部分海外华人或留学生,为了“融入”西方社交圈,主动表演“神秘东方人”形象(讲风水、功夫、美食等刻板话题)。
o网络时代,一些中国网红或自媒体用“东方美学”“汉服”“古风”包装自己,实质是把西方对“传统中国”的浪漫想象再出口。
3. 国家/商业层面的自我东方主义
o旅游宣传中过度强调“千年古国”“神秘东方”“功夫熊猫”等形象。
o部分企业用“东方智慧”“禅意”“丝绸之路”等符号进行品牌营销,迎合西方消费者的异国情调需求。
核心机制:内化西方眼光 → 自我物化 → 反向输出。被殖民/他者化的主体,为了在不平等的全球文化场域中获得位置,不得不“表演”西方期待中的自己。
小说中的英国女子正是当代柔性东方主义的日常化体现:
· 她并非仇视中国,而是带着“友好”的好奇心随意他者化中国(“靠近坦桑尼亚”)。
· 唐谦的克制与痛苦,则预示了自我东方主义的心理基础:知识分子既看穿了这种他者化,却又因权力不对等和个人欲望而难以彻底反抗。
在今天,这种动态仍在延续:西方媒介不断生产新的“中国形象”,而部分东方主体则在迎合或反抗中挣扎。
· 东方主义并未终结,只是从“殖民工具”变成了全球化消费文化的一部分。
· 自我东方主义是更隐蔽的陷阱:它让东方人以为自己在“文化输出”,实则在强化西方设定的框架。
· 真正的突破,需要双向去他者化:西方需放弃优越感,东方需摆脱“被观看”的心态,共同建立平等的对话空间。
《西方月亮》虽是1995年的作品,却像一面小小的镜子,照出了今天仍在持续的全球文化权力游戏。
· 萨义德:强调“对位阅读”(contrapuntal reading)——同时阅读西方文本与被殖民者的声音,揭示隐藏的权力关系。
· 斯皮瓦克:提出“战略本质主义”(strategic essentialism)和“庶民发声”,但警告不要落入新的本质主义陷阱。
· 霍米·巴巴:通过“混杂性”(hybridity)和“模仿”(mimicry)进行颠覆——在模仿中扭曲、改写西方话语。
· 当代发展:去殖民(decolonization)、认识论多元(epistemic pluralism)、文化主权(cultural sovereignty)等概念。
去东方主义不是“反西方”,而是去中心化(decentering the West)与再中心化(recentering multiple voices)并行。
· 去殖民课程与研究:大学课程中增加非西方视角的必修内容;推动“全球南方”理论的本土化生产,而非单纯翻译西方理论。
· 档案与叙事重构:重新挖掘、翻译、出版被殖民历史中的本土文献,让“东方人自己讲述东方”。
· 跨文化对位研究:鼓励西方学者与东方学者共同研究,避免单向“西方专家解读东方”。
案例:近年来非洲、拉美、东亚学者推动的“去殖民知识论”运动,以及中国提出的“文明互鉴”理念。
· 本土叙事主导:创作者优先讲述“内部视角”的故事,而非迎合西方市场的“东方奇观”。
o好例子:《隐秘的角落》《漫长的季节》等中国现实主义作品,用普遍人性对抗“中国=神秘/威权”的刻板印象。
· 混杂与颠覆:主动借用西方形式,但注入东方主体性(如刘慈欣《三体》在全球科幻中的突破)。
· 多元平台:利用Netflix、YouTube、B站等多元渠道,绕过好莱坞过滤器,直接输出多元中国形象。
· 拒绝自我东方主义:创作者警惕“为西方镜头表演东方”的诱惑。
· 唐谦式的觉醒:像《西方月亮》中的唐谦一样,首先看穿他者化话语,然后逐步打破沉默。个体可以通过日常对话、教育下一代、社交媒体发声来抵抗。
· 拒绝表演性身份:不再主动用“功夫”“风水”“神秘东方”标签包装自己,而是展现多面的、现代的、复杂的自我。
· 跨文化共情能力:学习双向理解——既理解西方,也让西方理解“我”的复杂性。
· 文化主权保护:通过UNESCO、非盟、上合组织等平台,推动文化多样性公约,反对文化霸权。
· 媒体素养教育:全球范围内提升对刻板印象的辨识能力。
· 经济去依附:文化产业强大后,自然有能力输出平等叙事(韩国、日韩流行文化提供正面借鉴)。
1. 权力不对等依然存在:西方媒体、技术平台仍掌握全球话语主导权。
2. 自我东方主义的顽固性:部分创作者为市场利益主动迎合西方期待,形成恶性循环。
3. 内部多样性问题:东方内部也存在中心-边缘关系(如城市 vs 乡村、汉族 vs 少数民族),去东方主义不能简化为单一民族叙事。
4. 逆向东方主义风险:过度反西方可能走向新的本质主义或民族主义。
去东方主义不是一蹴而就,而是长期、渐进、对话性的过程:
· 最有效的武器是高质量的本土创作——当中国故事足够丰富、深刻、动人时,西方观众自然会打破刻板印象。
· 技术赋权:数字时代让边缘声音更容易被听到(短视频、独立纪录片、网络文学)。
· 青年一代:全球化成长起来的年轻一代,天然具备更强的混杂身份认同,更容易突破二元对立。
回到《西方月亮》:唐谦的沉默是时代局限,但今天的我们已有更多工具——他若活在今天,或许会写一篇小说、拍一部短片、或在社交媒体上温和而坚定地回应那位英国女子,而不是只在心里翻涌。
一句话总结: 去东方主义的核心是“我讲述我自己”,而非“让西方讲述我”。当东方主体真正掌握叙事权,并以平等、复杂、多元的姿态进入全球对话时,东方主义才会真正退场。

附:《西方月亮》中英文原文:
西方月亮
川沙 1995年秋 英国伦敦
(原载2004年6月台湾水牛出版社同名短篇小说集《西方月亮——加拿大华人作家短篇小说集》)
一
“哟!多么漂亮的小狗! ”刚刚上了列车入坐的唐谦,看着对座的漂亮女人脚下那条昂起头来,两只眼睛亮晶晶地盯着他狺狺着声的小狗,一条全身拖着长长白毛的哈巴狗那憨憨的样子,禁不住地轻呼起来。“谢谢!哦——非常感谢!”
看着面前英俊的高个子黄皮肤男子欣赏着她的小狗,漂亮的白种女人高兴得连连地感谢着。
“清晨的空气真新鲜啊!”
“是的,清晨的空气让人神清气爽。”
“到伦敦?”
“是的。”
“您是日本人?”
“不,不是。”
“您——您?”
“我——我——哦!我……我从……我从中国来。”
唐谦答非所问地回答着女人的问话。那时,他看着那只确实逗人喜爱的哈巴狗 正慵懒地拱起两只前爪,歪着身子依憩在女人的两腿之间,哈巴狗和那同样漂亮而又玲珑富态的女人适成呼应,在车厢里温柔的灯光下,婉如一幅莫奈的温馨可人、呼之欲出的油画里的景象,他不禁在心里感叹着西洋人的爱狗,又想起了那句在中国人心目中恐怕认为简直是有点岂有此理的西洋人关于狗的名言来,那就是:Love me,Love my dog.进而,他又想起了最近他正在研究的《浮士德》歌剧里,那条走进了浮士德书房里去的魔狗,那个可怕的Mephistopheles*的化身,那个……他正在顺着意识边往下想,边回答女人的问话时,他又听到女人的声音在对他说道:
“哦!中国——多么美丽的地方!那儿,那儿好象,好象是靠近坦桑尼亚……好象……好……”
“……?……!?……!!!???”
“哦!不是——那儿好象是靠近……好象是靠近埃塞俄比亚……”
那时,唐谦有些坐不住了。他不好意思再去面对面地看着她。他怕他对座那个全身珠光宝气的女人看见他尴尬的目光。他怕毁了眼前的一切。本来,他一边和她说着话时,一边出自潜意识本能的引力,暗自在拿眼乜来斜去细溜着她的外貌:
首先,是她长着金发的头颅,白色大理石雕像般轮廓分明的前额下,一对深蓝色美丽的大眼睛。有些让他感到不协调的是,她的那些什么鼻子上挂着的金色鼻环,耳朵上吊着的耳环,甚至,连两边眉梢的皮肤上,都穿刺着的几个细小的金光闪烁的圆环。那是一些和他内心深处早期的传统教育有些悖离的东西…便,刚才那句在他听起来像是出自于《天方夜谭》之类——那时,他几乎仍是不相信,是他刚才亲耳听到了那样的一句出自于那个女人之口——的疯话,简直就象在他的心口上血淋淋地扎了一刀的话语,他仍是在出于潜意识本能引力的惯性之下,要去看几眼,那个可能已自知失言,脸上好象已经露出尴尬之色——他自己的感觉——的女人的脸:她的非洲女孩似的,编得铅笔头般粗细的满头金蛇样的小辩子,雪白的脖子,顺着脖子看下去,在白绸低领口正中,若隐若现地凸了出来的一对颤颤的乳房;深深的乳沟上方,在脖子上金项链上边挂着的,金光闪闪的十字架;袒露着的丰腴的双臂,她的在他们之间那张小桌上,用优雅高贵的淑女姿式端着带托盘的咖啡杯那双在手指头上戴满了金银戒指的手,手指上那些涂着闪射着紫色银光长长的指甲。
“你知道Chow吗?”
“Chow——什么Chow?怎么拼读那个单字?”
“Ch——Ch——Ch——Chow!”
“不知道,Chow是什么”
“那是一种中国狗——”
“中国狗?”
“是的!”
“Chow——Chow——Chow是一种中国狗?”
“是呀——Chow是一种中国狗!Chow的毛不长,是黄色的,Chow的个头也很小。”
“是吗?”
“哦——对啦!戴卫也是中国狗!戴卫是一只Pekinese,Pekinese也是一种中国狗。”
“是吗!?”
唐歉心里有些吃惊,又有些无可赖何地回答着女人的问话。他看见她又用她的手去摩裟着哈巴狗的头皮,脑子里才明白过来它的名字叫戴卫,而戴卫是一只北京狗!Pekin——Pekin——Pekin不就明明是北京吗?Pekin——ese——Pekinese——Pekin这个地名加上后缀ese,天哪!怎么会这样去取名!?他妈的!他妈的八国联军——他妈的八国联军之首的英国人——他不禁在心里愤怒地咒骂了起来,他想起来大不列颠博物馆里那些从中国抢去偷去的中国文物,他在拍卖行里买来的那些慈西太后当年委托英国人印制的邮票,还有香港……他妈的!他妈的!Pikenese——Pekinese!什么他妈的Pekinese!滚他娘的英国人的蛋!
然而,女人的摩裟着哈巴狗头皮的手却在他眼前晃来晃去……
唐谦想起了拉菲尔画笔下那些圣母的手,象雪白如玉的玉兰花瓣似的。只是,只是眼前这双手,如果除去了上面的什么金子银子之类的玩意儿就好了……
“还有Bulldog,Alsatian,Poodlie,嗯……嗯……还有……还有Collie,Husky……?对啦!是叫这个名字,是叫Husky!是爱斯基摩人拉雪撬用的狗,它是叫这个名字,还有Borzoi,Afghan,当然,当然还有,当然还有跑得最快的Greyhound了,乖乖!我差一点把它给忘记了……”

二
那时,唐谦侧过了脸去。
他借着列车上明亮的灯光,看着女人反射在急驶的列车车窗上黎明的黑暗中有些模糊的镜像。那时,他想,他是极不情愿让她看到,或是感觉到:他已经看到,或者是感觉到了,在她脸上的尴尬。因为,当他听到了女人的那些话时,无论他心里有多么难受,他都极不情愿去惊动她,去打扰他面前的兴致正隆,而又让他心仪的,楚楚动人的漂亮女人。
原本,他心想:这是一个多么美妙的旅程啊!黎明即起,拂晓出门,当脚下咯咯咯咯的脚步声,伴随着在自己行走过的路灯下时长时短地变化着的影子,响彻在王子大道的石板路上时,抬头望着山间那些错落有至的古老石头建筑群,目光顺着盏盏昏黄的路灯辉映下的古老石板路蜿蜒向上,游移在那些什幺荷里活皇宫、圣查尔斯大教堂、军堡山那些朦朦胧胧的夜影中……
那时,他想起去年秋天的一个元月晚。军堡山上,伴着交响乐的旋律,在夜空中飞曳起舞,噼噼啪啪嘶嘶嘶嘶发出声响的光焰四射的礼花,尤其那些象中国的黄桷树瀑布,或者加拿大的尼亚加拉大瀑布似的,从军堡山上那些一排排箭垛凹口处倾泻而下银光闪闪的液状礼花。一簇簇礼花的彩光里,欢呼雀跃的人群,那些笑得一朵朵夜百合般孩子们的脸蛋儿。那时,他的目光,又顺着圣查尔斯大教堂的尖顶,投向夜空中那一轮如镰似的银月。他在黎明微亮的夜色里昂起的头颅,他优雅修长雕塑样的身影,静静地伫立在王子大道通向火车站那条路口一排花园铁栅栏前。他仿佛凝固在了那儿。
看着夜空中那轮飘飘浮浮似升又似落的又大又透亮的月亮,他在心里轻声地呼喊:啊!多幺美妙的月亮啊!多幺典雅的月亮!到底是英国的月亮!到底是欧罗巴的月亮!到底是西方的月亮哦!
那时,他看着月光下象是镀了一层淡银似的城堡,这座他心目中,欧洲所有城市里最典型最美丽的古堡城市,他恍惚感到自己尤若置身在莎士比亚那些美雅而又庄严的戏剧里。他感到,他自己就是那其中的一个什幺角色。而且,是一个美妙角色,一个妙事连连幸运的角色……
你看,可不是吗?你看这一脚踏进车厢,你看这眼前,呵!你看这眼前,可不是吗?这是一位多幺美妙的可人儿哦!一个多幺诱人的欧罗巴尤物哦!那可不!天啦!多幺美妙的一个拉菲尔笔下的安琪尔!
这是一个多么美妙的旅程啊!一大早上车刚落座,就撞上一个这么漂亮的女人!
可是……可是……
可是,为什么?她口里……为什么老天要让她从的口里突然冒出来那么一句话来,那么一句简直是岂有此理《天方夜谭》似的疯话来呢?!
三
“哦——你看!它睡着了!”
“嗯。”
唐谦看见全身伏了下去的哈巴狗歪着脑袋闭上了眼睛。
突然之间,他发现,那哈巴狗确实是在哪里见过。
……是的,是见过!他猛然想了起来:这不就是“京巴儿”吗?是呀,是“京巴儿”呀。明明就是嘛!你看,可不是嘛,它毛还这么长。哎……这眼睛,只是……只是这东西出现在这里,又牵在这如此珠光宝气的英国女人手里,才把人搞糊涂了。这北京胡同里的东西,怎么跑到这里来了?奇怪,真是奇怪!有什么奇怪的,你不也是中国的人吗?你怎么跑到这里来了?真是的。种族歧视,中国人为什么就不可以跑到英国来?自己看不起自己?又还物种歧视!人可以出国,狗为什么就不可以跑到这里来?哎……是呀,时代不同了,时代不同了,人可以出国,狗也可以跟着人出国呀……哎,“京巴儿”,真是它,真是“京巴儿”啊。不是吗?前几年,北京好些人开始养宠物的时候,一些人家里养的,不就是这种狗吗?是的,对啦,确认就是它了!没错,就是这种狗!冒出这种狗的过程,记得,好象先是香港导演李翰祥在《火烧圆明园》里,让刘晓庆在慈西太后的宫殿里边牵了出来。对了,确实就是那样。然后,北京城的好些四合院,胡同里,大街上,就到处都钻出来了这种东西。这不,就跟眼前这家伙一个样:白毛儿,或者是黄毛儿长长的,这狗杂种,就是四个爪子站直了,背上的毛都几乎要拖到了地上,说那长毛飘洒的样子,是承传了满清皇宫里巴儿狗的遗风。好了,现在彻底想起来了,这“京巴儿”……它的正名……“正名叫中国宫廷狮子狗,也叫京巴犬,还叫北京犬。实际上,好像它是中国一个古老的犬种,还有好几千年的历史……”哦……记起来了,记起来了……记得,这些文字,是前几年,一个关于狗官司的讨论会上,电视屏幕上出现的字幕……对了,是的,是电视上的字幕,狗官司,狗价钱,电视……电视?电视?电视……哦……想起来了,是出国前几年,是谈这狗……这种狗……谈抢狗……判刑……人和狗……狗的身价……京巴犬的身价?是的,是讨论京巴儿的身价,那是一次中央电视台法制栏目电视直播讨论会,从此,这京巴儿的身价就陡然升了上去。讨论什么?讨论一个人抢了别人一只价值五万圆人民币的“京巴儿”,应不应该被判刑入狱五至十年?主持人提问为:狗的社会学意义是什么?狗之附属于人的中西文化比较,抢狗和抢钱的区别?法学家呢,回答的是狗的市价,量刑限度。直播现场一些群众讨论的是:狗是什么?一致的看法为:狗在中国就什么都不是。狗就是狗,是狗杂种、狗X的、狗屁不通、狗不理包子、狗娘养的、狗腿子、打狗棒、狗头军师、狗嘴里吐不出象牙来、猪狗不如、狗屎!狗在中国,就和老鼠苍蝇麻雀一类,都是扯淡的下三滥一类,还扯到鲁迅,鲁迅的国骂什么的。总之,印象是,国人认为,狗就是狗,是下贱的,而绝对不是西方的什么Love me,Love my dog!电视直播里,那些镜头里讨论会上的群众还谈到,前些年,一些时候,政府的政策朝令夕改,今天号召养狗,明天又号召人民杀狗,弄得地方官员无所适从。而现实是,从古至今,国人都喜欢吃狗肉,走遍大江南北,尤其东北,很多地方餐馆里都有卖狗肉的,狗肉是一道好菜,所以,抢只狗的事情,纯属鸡毛蒜皮的小事,为此而把人关进监狱,未免小题大做,草菅人命!但是,法学家就不这样看了。在法学家眼里,狗是钱,那么,一旦是钱,事情的性质就变了。五万圆人民币,在那个年代,就是一笔巨款,在偷盗和抢劫罪里,算是“数额巨大”,是判罪量刑要件或重点。抢狗事小,狗可以卖钱事大。法制的时代,就是要按法制办理。结果是,那个倒霉的家伙,就真的被关进了监狱。因为他是抢劫,是“数额巨大”的抢劫罪,应该从重从严!于是乎,“京巴儿”的身价,通过那场电视辩论,立刻就在全中国范围内蹿上去了好几层楼……
……更早的,不知是什么时候,记不得是《城南旧事》,还是小时候看过的一部名字好象是叫做《野火春风斗古城》的片子里,也出现过那个样子的狗。而且,那狗还总是让那些阔太太或者是阔小姐抱在怀里,或者是用绳子牵在手上,狗脖子上还挂着叮铛着响的铃铛。他好象又更加清楚地记了起来,《野火春风斗古城》里,那个银环小姐手里,不就常常抱着一只那样的狗吗!记得,金环和银环都是由王晓棠一个人扮演的,而且,在他看来,王晓棠又至今都是他认为二十世纪中国形像最美的女演员,只不过,她生不逢时,没有象今天刘晓庆和巩丽那样,在一些大片里演出而已罢了!若是要论起形象来,什么刘晓庆、巩丽,什么日本的篥原小绢、山口百惠,什么台湾的林青霞,香港的什么什么名字都让人想不起来的,那些在武打片里装神扮鬼的歪瓜劣枣,就更加等而次之了……
……一次在乌鲁木齐,出席他一个朋友的小说改编的电影毛片招待会时,当他和外景地回来的电影中女一号正在讨论着一个什么问题时,一个满脸横肉的日本道演突然插嘴问他:亚洲的女演员谁最漂亮?结果是争来争去,最后在餐桌上,喝得醉熏熏的日本人哭着说他是审美观上的大国沙文主义!因为,他说了山口百惠没有王晓堂长得美,又说了中国有十多亿人,你日本国一个弹丸之地的海岛上才几个人,按照数学上的概率论来说……之类的话。实际上,他心里明白,只不过日本人见他和女一号多说了几句话而已,而恰恰日本人不知道,那女孩和他是老乡,是他生活的那座城市歌舞团里的一个演员,早就五体投地地崇拜着他……他发起了狠,和那女孩约好了戏弄日本人,回回日本人去纠缠那女孩的时候,他们几个男的就捣乱,有一次,日本人自以为是日方导演呈威风的时候,他居然把那女孩从日本人身边抱了过来,放在自己的大腿上坐着,女一号还就势调头用手勾住他的脖子,通红的樱桃小嘴在他脸上劈里啪啦地吻将起来……
……他想起他的只在影集里发黄的照片上见过的大伯来,那是一张二三十年代济南“泰山照像馆”拍的照片,二十来岁的一个头上梳着分头,脸上戴着圆形金丝边眼镜,身着西服领带的大个子英俊书生,抗日战争时期被日本人的飞机炸死在早春二月村头的流沙河边……大伯毕业于曲阜师范和北京大学,至今,泰山上的一块巨石上,还镌刻着芦沟桥事变之后,他题写的那两个淳厚苍遒的宋体大字……
……有一年回老家时,他的同父异母的姐姐领着他,在黄昏沧茫的暮色中,他怀着敬畏的心情,仰望着山腰巨石上的“补天”两个凹进了石壁,仿佛有灵魂的大字时,他被震撼得完全不能自持的心情……
“你知道,Chow和Pikinese有什么不同吗?”
“不知道。”
“Pikinese的个头比Chow还要小一点,但是毛要长得多,Pikinese的毛是白色的,Chow的毛是黄色的。”
“嗯。”
Pikinese——Pikinese——他妈的!这女人还有完没完?他在心里咒骂着,又自我解嘲地想到:
八国联军是她曾祖父那一辈的事儿了,更何况,她曾祖父是不是八国联军中的一份子都还是一个问号,我何必要跟她过不去,又跟自己也过不去呢?何况……何况,何况她又是那么漂亮……
四
前几个月,也是在这趟列车上,也是从爱丁堡驶往伦敦,时间也是在清晨5点30分,他准时上车落座后闲聊起来的,也是一个对座的女孩,只不过,那女孩一点都不能吸引住他的注意力。因为,他觉得女孩太瘦了,一脸雀癍,眼睛倒是大大的,只是她的脸,让他想起伦敦的大不列颠博物馆里那些埃及少女木乃依的棺木表面上,用古代的彩色颜料画在上面死者生前的容貌。美倒是无可挑剔的美,只是让人感觉到那是画,是艺术品,是古董,是人制造出来的,而不是人本身。那上面没有生命的气息,而只能让人看到死亡的阴影。看着女孩前额上,手背上几乎是没有脂肪层的簿如白纸的皮肤,皮肤下面根根发叉的树根似的青的紫的血管和经络,瘦削的肩胛,木材棍似的手、腿和整个身体。那样的身体,不仅让他想起杜甫“清辉玉臂寒”的句子【1】。当然,他也知道,家乡人说的“南瓜白菜,各有所爱”,更同意苏东坡的“短长肥瘦各有态,玉环飞燕谁敢憎。”但是,他还是不喜欢过于瘦削的女人。他无法理解,为什么西方人今天会那么热衷于减肥,直减得一个个美女骨瘦如柴,特别是那些在镁光灯下面,一个个与其说是穿著,不如说是撑着,或者是说顶着各式各样漂亮衣服的骨瘦如柴的模特儿们。他知道,那是电视时代带来的毛病,是一种时代审美病。正常人在电视画面上显得稍胖,为了纠偏,在电视画面上,要看见人们在日常生活中正常人的样子,就需要上镜头的人,他们的身体更加瘦削。现代生活,尤其是明星和模特们,都是在电视画面上和公众见面,于是,上镜头的人,就都需要减肥,或者说瘦削。于是,明星引导大众,减肥就成为了时代的审美,成为时髦。但是,一个男人,一个生活中的男人,他怎么和一个几乎难于生产的瘦削女人生活呢?男人审美需要女人的曲线,瘦削如干材棍似的女人,还有什么曲线呢?
时常,在海滨浴场,特别是在德国,法国和西欧那些比较开放的国家天然浴场,他特别喜欢蓝色天空下翻着白浪的大海边沙滩,以及沙滩上,那些沐浴着明艳阳光的头上戴着花花绿绿遮阳帽,脸上戴着墨镜半裸或全裸的,身上晒得黑里透红的姑娘们,特别是那些长得结实的,丰腴的,S曲线高高地凸起的,说得斯文一点含蓄一点绘画语言一点,就是女体中段的乳房和臀部长得夸张一点,说得通俗一点直白一点,就是女人的奶子和屁股长得更大一点的女人们。
“Do you think it's a boy or girl?”
女人的眼光甜甜地抚摸着他的脸,笑迷迷地问道。
“嗯——嗯——girl吧!它一定是个Girl!”
“不——不——不是!哈哈,哈哈哈,哈——哈——哈——它不是Girl!它是boy!哈哈哈,哈哈哈,哈——哈——哈——”
女人哈哈大笑起来,笑得全身都颤动着,一对大大的乳房半遮半掩在白色低领口的衬衣里滚来滚去。他开始感到身上有些什么热热的东西升了起来……
脑海里有那么一瞬间 ,他想起了几年前在北京开文学讨论会时,那个胖胖的山东老乡的军队作家。他最近几年写的一本长篇小说,那本小说的名字就叫做《丰乳肥臀》,一想起那书名,再一想起他那张胖胖的脸,那张脸上宽大的前额下,两撇八字眉遮掩着细眯细眯豌豆角似的一对单眼皮的眼睛时,他就想笑。那时,在他脸上,真的咧开嘴巴笑了起来。
他们两人,都在那儿捂住了嘴巴笑了好一阵子。听着他们的笑声,狗也汪汪地叫了起来。狗越叫唤,他们就笑得更欢……
时间长了,他还真佩服他老兄那四个字概括,可以说深得中国古文言文之精髓。对比女人前挺后凸的描写,乔伊斯在《尤利西斯》里最精彩的句子为:“她身子前面突出两个尺寸可观的大肉疙瘩,大得几乎垂进午饭的汤盆里,背后下身也有两个隆起的东西,直肠一定是结实的,那两个鼓包摸起来,一定很有快感。”【2】两相对照,后者显得雍长累赘不说,还缺乏艺术感,简直就是生理学教材语言般的叙述。
他想起来,他们讨论法国新小说流派作家克劳德.西蒙的《弗兰德公路》,研究他的写作手法,又奇怪于为什么瑞典人要把1985年的诺贝尔文学奖桂冠扣在他头上。他的小说时空颠倒了又颠倒,几十百把个字一口气写了几个段落不打一个标点符号,大段大段让人看得心烦意乱,几页看下来不知到情节扯到了那里去了,还美其名曰“诗画结合的新小说”!也许是俺们太古典了吧,就像当年毕加索的画不能被人接受一样。乳房长在了肩膀上,屁股长在了肚子上,眼睛却从全身到处长了出来……
五
“你知道坦桑尼亚的天然动物园吗?”
“嗯——嗯——”
“你应该知道的,坦桑尼亚离中国那么近,那个天然的动物园里……”
“嗯——嗯——”
见你的鬼去吧!唐谦在心里又咒骂了起来,这女人是怎么搞的!她怎么这样的无知!一会儿把中国扯到了非洲!一会儿又连Pikinese这种北京狗为什么是中国狗她都不知道!她恐怕连北京都不知道吧!他妈的!中国什么人才会不知道伦敦呢?他简直不愿再往下去想了……
他闷闷地一言不发。
眼睛,眼睛却老是要去偷偷地瞟几眼她的耀眼的鼓鼓的胸部,两条粉白粉白胖胖的手臂,时不时地,他还要向下乜斜了眼溜几溜她的黑色短裙下面,两条穿著刺眼的粉红色的高根鞋的,套着黑色透明网眼连裤袜的诱人的大腿……
《丰乳肥臀》!《丰乳肥臀》!眼前的女人不正是这样的一个“丰乳肥臀”的女人吗?
对座女人的位置上,他的眼前却老是浮现出上次那个瘦瘦的女孩的形像来。女孩家住在伦敦城里,她在爱丁保大学经济系念书,那次,她是回伦敦城去。和她讨论文学是讨论不下去的,除了沙士比亚和D.H.劳伦斯以外,其它的英国作家她是一概不知的!即便是D.H.劳伦斯,她也是因为那几天BBC电视台播放了《查泰莱夫人和她的情人》的电视剧之后,社会上因为里边的太多的裸体镜头引起了首先是中学生家长和教师,然后是教会组织,再然后是社会上观念较为保受的人和年龄较大的人士激烈的反驳,在报刊杂志和广播电视上爆发了论战,战火一直烧到了她的教室,寝室里之后,她才知道原来那个作家就是英国人。更为好笑的是,她竟然是诺丁汉都伊思特伍德人,居然和劳伦斯是真正的老乡!要是劳伦斯在九泉之下有灵,不知道他会作何感想?也可想象得到今天一些英国青年人,他们对于文化的无知,已经到了何等样的程度!他记得那个女孩在谈到电视剧给她的印象时,言谈中,不时流露出对扮演女主角的演员的羡慕。
清晨的空气中,除了热咖啡的香味之外,浓浓地散发着女人身上的香水味儿,那是一种带着树林里植物散发出来的清香的香水味儿。由于是早班车,上面稀稀落落地没有几个人。在他们的那一段,就只有他和那个女人。
唐谦看着车窗外渐渐开始有些发白的模模糊糊的景色,上面段段续续明明暗暗地拼凑和拆裂着女人的身影,耳边还传来女人喋喋不休的话语:
“……森林里,有许多的大象,老虎,熊,Grizzly Bear,Baboon,Chimpanzee,狮子,狐狸,狼,猫头鹰,Boa Constrictor……”
有一阵子,他看着镜面般车窗上流动的画面。他看见车窗上,女人的鼻子和前额、被一些外面小站上射来流动的光点交替地拉长和缩短着……有一忽儿,她隆起的乳房和金发的后脑勺竟朝前后两个方向被拉长着:隆起的乳房朝着前方,一把闪着银光巨大利剑似的,刺向远处那些黑黝黝的苏格兰田野和树林;向后拉长的后脑勺,则象一大把长长的金发,拖曳在黎明的夜空中飞舞……
“……Rocodile,野牛,鹿,Giraffe,Zebra,African Buffalo……”
Rocodile!R-o-c-o-d-i-l-e?Giraffe?Zebra……非洲的Buffalo?B-u-ff-a-l-o……他在脑海里搜寻着女人嘴里冒出来的英文单词……他感到,他对那些表示着遥远陌生的非洲野生动物的英文单词有点无能为力……
文革期间,他生活的那座城市搞武斗时,他躲藏在另外一座城市的亲戚家里看了一本名字叫着《非洲内幕》的书。一个十来岁的小孩的他,确实在那个时候浮想联翩地梦幻着东非洲坦桑尼亚的天然动物园,他梦幻着有一天要到那里去看一看,去看一看那些什么大象,老虎,狮子,长颈鹿,斑马,鳄鱼……但是他得坐在吉普车里去看!因为书里说,在那里,人是反过来被关在笼子里……英国人,法国人,美国人,他们躲在吉普车里用毛瑟枪射杀那些动物……站在树林里不让吉普车开动的大象和长颈鹿……躲在一棵巨树上过夜的少女时代的伊丽沙白……多年以后,他又看过那个叫约翰.根舍的美国记者写的《亚洲内幕》,《欧洲内幕》……但是,给他印象最深的,还是《非洲内幕》……
漂亮的女人还在那里用她高贵的伦敦腔述说着什么……
他的耳边已经听不进去女人的任何一句话。
任何声音,在那个时候,都变成了一句话,那句话就是那个女人先前说的:
“哦!中国——多么美丽的地方!那里好象是靠近坦桑尼亚……”
体内的烦躁,女人的话,让他渐渐地堕入尴尬和失望,愤慨和懊恼,无可奈何而又忧郁无助的深海里……
“哦!中国——多么美丽的地方!那里好象是靠近坦桑尼亚……”
“哦!中国——多么美丽的地方!……”
“哦!中国——……”
“哦!……”
…………

女人的话嗡嗡嗡地不停地在他的耳边响着,一直响到了列车到达了终点站的伦敦。一直响到他走出维多利亚中心车站。一直响到了他钻出了地铁来到了飘着小雨的圣梅耶路潮湿的空气中……
他,已经记不得,他是怎样和那个女人,由那可怕的把中国扯到非洲土地上,扯到坦桑呐尼亚,扯到埃塞俄比亚旁边去的话题转移到了其它的话题上去收的场!
然而,好多天都过去了,那句可怕的话,说话的女人高贵而又纯正的伦敦腔,她可怕的漂亮而又性感的容貌和身子,还有飘散在爱丁堡秋晨的空气中,混杂着咖啡香味儿和她身上散发出来的香水味儿的一种特别的味道,所有那些,好多天都一直伴随着他,让他记忆犹新,历历在目。
“哦!中国——多么美丽的地方!……”
“哦! 英国人!我的老天!”
注:
【1】语出:杜甫诗歌《月夜》:今夜鄜州月,闺中只独看。/遥怜小儿女,未解忆长安。/香雾云鬟湿,清辉玉臂寒。 /何时倚虚幌,双照泪痕干?
【2】语出:詹姆斯.乔伊斯《尤利西斯》第二部第十五章下卷第583页(刘翔翻译版)
By Chuan Sha
Translated by H. Laura Wu and Cory Davies
“A Western Moon” was originally serialised in a Toronto Chinese language newspaper and included in The Sojourners: Stories by Chinese-Canadian Writers in 2004.
1
“What a cute puppy!”
As soon as he sat down, Tang Qian noticed the little dog at the foot of the pretty woman facing him. It was a Pekinese with long white hair. Head lifted, bright eyes fixed at him, and barking excitedly, the dog had such an air of sweet innocence that Tang Qian exclaimed in admiration.
“Thank you! Thank you very much!”
Seeing a tall and handsome Asian man admiring her little dog, the Caucasian woman responded happily.
“The early morning air is really fresh!”
“Yes, it is very refreshing, indeed.”
“Going to London?”
“Yes.”
“Are you Japanese?”
“No, I'm not.”
“And?”
“I… I…. Oh, I… I came from China.”
Tang Qian evaded the woman's question as best as he could. He turned his gaze back to the adorable dog, who languorously raised its fore paws and smugly wedged its torso between the woman's legs. The dog and its equally attractive and curvaceous mistress made a perfect pair. In the soft light, they looked just like a scene from a Monet painting, lovely and lively. The image made Tang contemplate the incredible affection Westerners lavished on their dogs. It also reminded him of their maxim, “Love me; love my dog,” which sounds preposterously ridiculous to the Chinese. Then he thought of Gounod's opera Faust, which he had researched recently, especially that magic dog who ambled into Dr. Faust's study, a metamorphosis of the dreadful Mephistopheles … He was deep in his own thoughts while trying to follow his companion, then, he believed he heard her voice, saying: “Oh China! A beautiful land! It… it seems to be… close to Tanzania… maybe… might…”
“…? …!? …!!!???”
“Oh no! Not Tanzania. China … might be near Ethiopia…I think…”
Right there and then, Tang Qian felt too embarrassed to face squarely the woman sitting opposite him, sparkling with so much jewellery. When chatting with her, he was stealing glances at her, sizing her up slyly because he couldn't resist the impact her beauty exerted on him, on his sub-consciousness. Her blond hair, her beautiful, big, blue eyes beneath a finely chiselled forehead smooth as white marble. What he found out of place on her were the gold nose ring, the earrings, and the few tiny, shining rings piercing through the fair skin at the end of her eye brows. Those were things contradicted the values that a rather orthodox education ingrained in him during his formative years and that he cherished deep in his heart. Such frippery…
The remark (he couldn't believe it had come out of her mouth if he had not heard it himself) sounded to him like fanciful words from One Thousand and One Nights. It was like a digger being thrust into his bleeding heart. She must have sensed she had made a stupid slip of tongue and she appeared uncomfortable, or could it simply be that he was overly sensitive? No matter what it was, instinctively aroused by a natural response to her beauty, he still found himself helplessly glancing at her: the gold snake like blond braids, each as thick as a pencil, a hair style favoured by African girls; snow white neck, along which his glance moved downwards and fell on the low-cut neckline of her white silk blouse; quivering breasts partially covered and a visible cleavage, above which dangled a gold cross on a gold necklace hanging around her neck; bare and plump arms; hands wearing gold and silver rings, with which she held a coffee cup and a saucer, with lady-like daintiness and elegance, over the little table between them; long fingernails painted with metallic, silvery purple nail polish.
“Have you heard of chow?”
“Chow? What chow? How do you spell it?”
“Ch… ch…ch…c-h-o-w, chow!”
“No, I have not. What is it?”
“It is a Chinese dog…”
“A Chinese dog?”
“Yes!”
“Chow… chow…chow is a Chinese dog?”
“Yes, chow is a Chinese dog! Chow is short-haired, yellow, and rather small too.”
“Is that so?”
“Oh, yes! David is also a Chinese dog! David is a Pekingese and Pekingese is a Chinese dog.”
“Really?!”
Tang Qian, though reluctant and a bit dumbfounded, managed to keep the chat going. He noticed that she started to massage the dog's head again and suddenly he figured it out: David was her dog's name, and David was a Pekingese. Peking… Peking… Isn't Peking Beijing? Peking… Peking…, Peking, the place name and the suffix ese, putting them together and you got Pekingese. Oh my god! How could they fabricate a word in such a way?! Damn! Damn you, the Allied Forces of Eight Nations1… Damn you, the British who headed the Allied Forces! Tang cursed angrily to himself. Then his thoughts turned to the Chinese artefacts in the British Museum, stolen or pillaged from China; the stamps that he purchased recently at an auction, stamps that Empress Dowager Cixi commissioned the British to produce (and they stole them!); and Hong Kong… Damn you! Damn you! Pekingese… Pekingese! Fucking Pekingese! Fucking British!
Yet, the hand moved back and forth right before his eyes, the woman's hand massaging the dog's head…
Tang Qian was imagining the hands of Madonna painted by Raphael, hands white as snow and semi lucent like pure jade, hands like petals of the magnolia flowers. Only if the hands in front of him were bare, without those gold and silver things…
“There are also bulldogs, Alsatians, poodles, and… eh, and collies… and huskies? Yes, huskies! I got it right, it is called husky! Dogs the Eskimos use to pull the sleds. Husky is the name. And Borzois, Afghans, and of course let's not forget the greyhounds, the fastest running dogs. I almost forgot them…”
2
Tang Qian turned his face away to the window.
The bright lights in the train threw the woman's silhouette onto the window, against the dark background of early dawn outside. On the window of the fast moving train, her image was blurred. He felt averse to let her notice or sense that he noticed, or rather sensed, her embarrassment. No matter how uncomfortable he was when he listened to what she was babbling about, he was reluctant to stop this attractive woman, who obviously was in a very happy mood, after all he enjoyed her presence.
When he first saw her, he had thought that this could turn out to be a marvellous journey! He had got up in the wee hours and left for the station at daybreak. While he was walking along Princes Street, the tap-tap-tapping sounds his shoes made resounded with the changing shadows of himself under the street lights, sometimes long and sometimes short. His steps on the paving slabs echoed in the quiet dawn. Lifting up his head, he looked at those ancient stone buildings aligning the hillside. His eyes were led upwards by the zigzagging cobblestone road that was lighted by the soft and yellowy street lights: shadowy outlines of the Palaces of Holyroodhouse, St. Giles Cathedral, and Edinburgh Castle appeared in the dark. Then, he recalled the night of the full moon last fall: the fireworks, to the rhythm of symphonic music, exploded, and danced, and flew, and glided in the night sky. The cascading fireworks plummeted from the parapet of the Castle, just like the waters of Huangguoshu Falls in China or Niagara Falls in Canada. He also remembered the cheering and dancing crowds, and the smiling faces of the children, those lily-like faces. Then his eyes glanced upwards along the crown steeple of St. Giles Cathedral and fixed on the silver moon in the dark sky. In the dim light of the dawn, he held his head high; he stood in front of an iron fence, behind which was a garden on Princes Street, which led to the train station. His whole body, tall, sinewy and graceful like a statue, was completely still, frozen or congealed. He stared at the stunningly gorgeous moon, rising and then falling. He exclaimed silently: “Ah, such an exquisite moon! Such a classical and elegant moon! Certainly a British moon! A European moon! A Western moon!”
Right then, he caught sight of the Castle, glittering as if silver-plated. To him, Edinburgh was the most beautiful city of ancient castles of all European cities. As if under a spell, he felt like he was in a Shakespearian play, a magical and sublime play; in it he was a character, a fine character, a lucky character to whom good fortunes befell…
Behold, didn't it come true? You see, as soon as he stepped onto the train, here, right before his eyes, a glamorous beauty, a charming Europa, an adorable angel by Rafael!
What a wonderful trip it would be! An early morning train ride, by pure chance, sitting across from a goddess!
But…
How could she let such nonsensical words, as if out of One Thousand and One Nights, roll off her tongue?
3
“Look! He's falling asleep!”
“Eh-huh…”
Tang Qian looked at the little dog, head tilting sideways, eyes closed, body entirely relaxed. All of a sudden, he realized that he might have seen a dog like this one before.
Yes, of course. He remembered, it was a few years ago when some residents in Beijing started to keep pets. Didn't some raise this kind of dog? Yes, they did. Pekingese dogs became a fad because of a scene in a film, Burning of the Imperial Garden2 shot by a Hong Kong director Li Han Hsiang. Wasn't it the scene in which Director Li had the actress Liu Xiaoqing, playing the part of Empress Dowager Cixi, walk out of a palace hall with a little dog at heel and on a leash? Then all of a sudden, Pekingese dogs emerged everywhere in downtown Beijing, with long, soft, white or yellow coats. Allegedly, the Pekingese originated from the palace of the Manchu Qing court, and carried an imperial pedigree. Its sale price increased because of a debate on live television: in a robbery attempt, a guy took someone's Pekingese that had a price tag of 50,000 dollars in Chinese currency. Would the robber be sentenced to a prison term of five, or even ten, years? It turned out that the wretched man was indeed thrown into prison. He robbed and thus deserved a punishment, severe and swift. After that incident, the “value” of the dog skyrocketed again.
… He might have come across a Pekinese even earlier. He was not sure if he had seen it in My Memories of Old Beijing3 or in an earlier movie he saw when he was a kid, Battles in An Old City4. Whichever film it was, a Pekingese was in it, held in the arms of or pulled on leash by a rich woman or a rich girl, and wearing a tiny, jingling bell. Now his recollections became clearer: it was in Battles in An Old City. Didn't Miss Yinhuan very often carry a Pekingese in her arms? He remembered the character and the dog because Yinhuan and her sister Jinhuan were played by the same actress, Wang Xiaotang, and in his opinion, Wang Xiaotang was the prettiest and most refined film star in twentieth-century China. Unfortunately she was born in the wrong time, years too early to appear in some of the blockbuster movies that made Liu Xiaoqing or Gong Li famous. However, Wang Xiaotang was much more beautiful than Liu Xiaoqing and Gong Li, or Komaki Kurihara and Yamaguchi Momoe from Japan, or Lin Ching Hsia from Taiwan. As for those Hong Kong actresses who often made fools of themselves in those gongfu movies, they were too homely and their acting was too amateurish to leave any impression on him; consequently, he could not even recall their names. You wouldn't even mention them in the same breath…
He also recalled another film-related anecdote: it was in Urumqi, China. He attended a reception on a film set because the film was adapted from a novel written by a friend of his. There he was, talking with the lead actress of which film he now had no recollection, when suddenly a ferocious looking director from Japan rudely interrupted by asking him who was the prettiest actress in Asia. They got into a heated argument and later, at dinner, the Japanese, drunk as a skunk, howled that Tang was an aesthetic chauvinist. Apparently the accusation came about because of his statements that Yamaguchi Momoe, good-looking as she was, was no competition for Wang Xiaotang, and that China had a population of more than one billion while Japan, an island country as diminutive as a pellet, could support only a tiny population, and hence the law of probability did not favour Japan, etc. etc. He was well aware of the real reason for the director's sour mood: the Japanese was green with envy because the actress seemed to enjoy chatting with Tang. However the Japanese had no idea that Tang and the young lady happened to come from the same place. She was a member of the dance troupe of the city where he lived and she adored him long before she was casted for the leading role… So he decided to teach the Japanese a lesson. He made a pact with the actress to play tricks on the director. Whenever the Japanese tried to flirt with her, he would team up with other men and made sure the Japanese would not have his way. Once the Japanese idiot became really annoyed, believing that he, the Japanese director in a joint-venture of film production, had the advantage over the Chinese cast. Tang responded simply by pulling the actress away from the Japanese and sat her on his lap; she, with presumed enthusiasm, linked her arms around his neck, gave him fat and loud kisses…
He also thought about his uncle, whom he only got to know from a fading, grainy picture in an album. The picture, taken in a Ji'nan photo studio, Mount Tai Studio, in the 1920s or 1930s, displayed a tall and handsome student in his early twenties, hair parted in the middle, wearing a pair of round frameless glasses, dressed in a Western style suit and wearing a tie. He died in a Japanese air raid in early spring during the War, by a brook near a village… His uncle was a graduate of the Qufu5 Teachers' College and then the famous Peking University. Even now you could find his calligraphy on a piece of huge rock at Mount Tai, two big characters in bold vigorous strokes and in the Song style, inscribed after the Marco Polo Bridge Incident6…
A few years ago he visited his hometown. His half-sister accompanied him to the site to pay homage to their uncle. In the approaching dusk, he looked up, in profound awe and veneration, at the two gigantic characters carved deep into the rocky cliff half way up the mountain, Bu tian (Mending the Sky)7, two characters possessing their own soul and almost coming alive. Overwhelmed and inspired, he found himself in an uncontrollable emotional state …
“Do you know the difference between a chow and a Pekingese?”
“I'm afraid not.”
“A Pekingese is smaller in size than a chow but has a coat of much longer hair. Also a Pekingese's hair is usually white and a chow's yellow.”
“Eh.”
Pekingese… Pekingese… Damned! Could she just shut up? He cursed to himself. Self-mockingly, he reflected that the ransacking of the imperial garden by the allied forces had been carried out by soldiers of her great grandfathers' generation; moreover there was no way to tell if her great grandfather was a soldier in the British contingent then. So why should I blame her and why should I rob myself a pleasant time by finding fault with her? Damn it, she is so pretty…
4
A couple of months ago, on the same 5:30AM train from Edinburgh to London, he had got on the train, dutifully punctual, sat down and struck a conversation with a fellow passenger sitting opposite him, a girl who did not particularly attract his attention. He found her too skinny, having a freckled face. Her eyes were big enough, however, her face reminded him of a sarcophagus in the British Museum that had the image of the Egyptian maiden, now mummified within, painted, as she had been in life in ancient pigments on the lid. The girl was beautiful, even impeccably beautiful; yet, her beauty was that of a painting, an artistic artefact, an antique, man-made and lifeless. You could hardly detect any sign of life in her beauty, only a shadowy presence of death. He noticed the skin over the girl's forehead and back of her hands, thin and pale like fragile paper; underneath the skin, blue and purple veins branching out like the roots of a tree; protruding shoulder blades, twig-like fingers and legs, and bony body… He simply could not understand why Westerners were so crazy about dieting that their beauties were like skeletons, especially those fashion models on the catwalk, under the limelight. They were so skeletal that the gorgeous clothes hung on them.
When he was on a beach, especially a nude beach in Germany, France or some other West European countries where people were more open-minded, he fully enjoyed the view: crystal blue sky, gently caressing waves with whitecaps, sunbathing girls wearing colourful sunbonnets and sunglasses, half naked or completely naked, their bodies perfectly tanned. He particularly enjoyed looking at those healthy, fleshy bodies. In polite, indirect, and aesthetic terms, you could call them the archetypal feminine body with a somewhat exaggerated upper torso and lower back. In the unsophisticated and straightforward language of the street, you could say that these women sported big breasts and wide hips.
“Can you tell if it's a boy or a girl?”
The woman asked him with a sweet smile, her eyes tenderly caressed his face.
“Eh… eh, a girl? It must be a girl.”
“No, no, noooo! Haha… haha… hahaaa! It is not a girl! It's a boy! hehe…hehe… hahaaa…”
As the woman started to laugh, her entire body began to shake, her breasts, partially covered by the white blouse featuring the low-cut neckline, bobbling up and down. He suddenly detected a hot sensation rising up inside his body… In a split second, a past event resurfaced in his memory: a few years ago at a literary workshop in Beijing, he met a novelist of the Chinese army, who was also from Shandong, his home province. The army man had just published a novel titled Big Breasts and Wide Hips8. Whenever he thought of the title, the image of the author appeared before his eyes: chubby face, broad forehead, brows in the shape of the Chinese character 八 that almost hid his narrow slits of small eyes with simple-fold eyelid. He couldn't help but laugh his heart out. He laughed at the workshop. Actually both of them did; they laughed and laughed for a long while.
He remembered that they talked about Claude Simon, novelist of the nouveau roman and his La Route des Flandres. They dissected his techniques but still couldn't figure out why the Swedes made him the Nobel laureate of 1985. His works were full of frequent and repeated spatial and chronological discontinuities, long sentences of dozens and even hundreds of words without a single punctuation mark. Those long passages, often stretching across many pages, were annoyingly disorienting. Very often, after perusing pages and pages, you still had no clue where the story was heading. That was “nouveau roman of poetry and painting”! Perhaps we were too geared to the classical novels to appreciate him, just like Picasso's paintings were not accepted once: breasts grafted to the shoulder, buttocks to the belly, and eyes appearing anywhere on the body…
5
“Have you heard of safaris in Tanzania?”
“Eh…”
“You should know. After all, Tanzania is so close to China. In the safari…”
“Eh-huh…”
Go to hell! Tang Qian swore silently. What's wrong with this woman? How could she be so ignorant? Now she tossed China into Africa, and the very next moment she prattled about Pekingese, but had no idea why this Beijing dog was a Chinese breed. Probably she didn't even know Beijing! Bloody idiot! Would there be a Chinese who did not know London? What kind of person would he be? He did not want to follow his own train of thought…
He kept quiet, dispirited. But his eyes, damned eyes, couldn't stay still but kept sneaking a peek or two at her alluring breasts, pinkish fair-skinned and fleshy arms. And quite often he used the corner of his eye to have a few quick downward looks: her short black skirt, her shining pink high heeled shoes, and her erotically inviting legs in revealingly sheer, black mesh thighs…
Big Breasts and Wide Hips! Big Breasts and Wide Hips! Wasn't this objet right in front of him a woman of “big breasts and wide hips”? However, instead of the woman sitting opposite, he conjured up, quite often, in his mind the image of that skinny girl he had met on the train on the previous trip. Her family resided in London while she studied economics at the University of Edinburgh. On that trip she was heading back to London. He tried to discuss literature with her but could not really engage her, because she had not heard of any English writers except for Shakespeare and D. H. Lawrence. Actually she knew of D. H. Lawrence merely because of the BBC dramatization of Lawrence's Lady Chatterley's Lover and the scandalous repercussions the TV adaptation invoked: it was said that parents and teachers of school children complained about too much nudity in the TV series, and then older people with social conservative values expressed their rage. The media also joined in heated debates for and against the series in newspapers and magazines, on TV and radio. Only when the battle cries thundered in her classrooms and dormitory did she get to know that the author was a Brit. The real irony was that she actually hailed from Eastwood, Nottinghamshire, a bona fide fellow-townsperson of Lawrence's. Certainly Lawrence would turn in his grave, wouldn't he? It also made you realize how ignorant some young people in the United Kingdom were about their own cultural heritage. He still remembered that the girl expressed, several times, her admiration, or jealousy, of the actress when she talked about the TV drama.
Fresh morning air, mixed with the aroma of hot coffee and the strong fragrance the woman wore, a fragrance with a whiff of light and refreshing scent of the woods. Theirs was a very early train, with so very few passengers aboard that there were literally no people around them, only the woman and he.
Tang Qian stared through the window, objects against the first light of the dawn were still blurry, the woman's reflection on the window glass distorted, pulled apart or put together by light and shadow intermittently, in his ears echoing the woman's prattle: “… in the forest there are many elephants, tigers, bears, grizzly bears, baboons, chimpanzees, lions, foxes, wolfs, owls, boa constrictors…”
He watched at the window, and saw her nose and forehead being lengthened and shortened alternately by the lights of those tiny stations the train rushed by… for a fleeting moment her prominent breasts and the back of her head were being pulled in two directions, forward and backward: the big breasts, looking like huge swords being thrust forward at the dark and distant fields and woods of Scotland, the back of her head, pulled backwards, resembling a mop of long blond hair trailing and dancing in the grey sky of the dawn…
“…Crocodiles, buffalos, deer, giraffes, zebras, African buffalos…”
Crocodile? C-r-o-c-o-d-i-l-e? Giraffe? Zebra? Africa buffalo? B-u-f-f-a-l-o… He desperately searched, from his memory, those English words that rolled off her tongue. He felt crushed, completely and helplessly, by those English words of wild life in faraway Africa…
One year during the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976), the city he grew up in was thrown into the throes of factional fighting in which real weapons were used. He flew to another city and lived with relatives. There he got hold of a copy of Inside Africa. A teenager then, he dreamed of safaris in Tanzania, Africa. He fantasized one day he would be there to see with his own eyes those elephants, tigers, lions, giraffes, zebras, crocodiles … But imagine it: he had to sit inside a jeep! The book said that over there, human beings were put into a cage… the British, the French, the Americans… they hid inside vehicles, firing their Mauser rifles at the animals… In the bushes, elephants and giraffes stood there, blocking the path of the jeeps… the young Elizabeth spent a night on a huge tree… Many years later, he read more books by the same author, American journalist John Gunther, Inside Asia, Inside Europe … yet what impressed him most was still Inside Africa …
That pretty woman was still prattling in her elegant London accent…
He could not take in anything she uttered; not one word.
Any sounds she made were transformed, at that moment, into one exclamation, “Oh China! A beautiful land! It… it seems to be… close to Tanzania… maybe…”
Exasperation inside his body and the woman's nonsensical gibbering made him embarrassed, disillusioned, annoyed, and enraged, he felt as if he were drowning in a deep sea of helplessness and vulnerability…
“Oh China! A beautiful land! It… it seems to be… close to Tanzania… maybe… “
“Oh China! A beautiful land…”
“Oh China…”
“Oh ...”
… …
Her nonstop idiocy assailed him, ringing in his ears even when the train reached its destination London, even when he walked out of Victoria Station, even when he resurfaced from the Tube and was on St Meyer Road. It was drizzling and the air was moist… He already forgot how he had managed to switch the conversation with the woman, who had brutally plunged China into the African Continent beside Tanzania, and then Ethiopia, to other topics. However, several days later, he still could not rid himself of the memory: that dreadful exclamation, the woman's pure and refined London accent, her lethal beauty and sexy body, and the fragrance lingering in the air of an autumn dawn, a fragrance blended with the aroma of hot coffee, that unique scent of the woman's fragrance, all those stayed with him for many, many days, fresh in his memory and vivid before his eyes.
“Oh China! A beautiful land! …”
“Oh the British! Oh My God!”
1 The Allied Forces of Eight Nations refers to the troops sent by Britain, America, France, Germany, Italy, Austria, Russia, and Japan to Beijing in 1900 to suppress the anti-West Boxers.
2 Burning of the Imperial Garden is a well-received film released in China in 1983 and directed by the award winning director Li Han Hsiang (1926-1996). It depicts the notorious looting and burning of the Yuanming Garden, by the Allied Forces of Britain and France in 1860.
3 My Memories of Old Beijing (1982) is an award-winning film which tells the story of ordinary Beijing residents' lives in the 1920s through the eye of a nine-year-old girl.
4 Battles in An Old City (1963) is a famous film made in the Mao era (1949-1976), glorifying the Chinese communist resistance fighters in their struggle against the Japanese invaders during the war against Japan (1937-1945).
5 Qufu, a town in Shandong province, is Confucius' hometown.
6 The incident took place on July the 7th, 1937 not far from Peking. It signalled the beginning of the eight-year long war between China and Japan.
7 A Chinese myth relates that once upon a time, a corner of the sky collapsed and a female deity Nüwa mended the defective sky by melting huge rocks and patching it up. References to Bu tian or “Mending the Sky” always carry mythical significance.
8 Big Breasts and Wide Hips (1996) is written by Mo Yan, a famous Chinese writer and the 2013 Nobel laureate. He is known in the West for two of his novels which were the basis of the film Red Sorghum (1987). He has been referred to as the Chinese answer to Franz Kafka or Joseph Heller.
川沙文学简介
(2026年中文简版)
川 沙, 加拿大当代华裔诗人、小说家、剧作家 。 曾任文学编辑、副刊主编及杂志总编辑。1991年赴英国,1999年移民加拿大。有小说、诗歌、戏剧、散文及文学理论作品在世界范围内发表。诗歌作品入选2008年美国W.W.偌顿出版社《新世纪语言》诗选集,和北岛、顾城、杨炼、哈金等同时向全球英语国家介绍诗人(Language for a New Centure, an anthology called Contemporary Voices of the Eastern World: An Anthology of Poems to be published by W.W Norton in 2007。ISBN:978-0-393-33238-4(pbk))见维基百科《新世纪语言》诗人A-Z词条之Chuan Sha 词条
:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Language_for_a_New_Century。
2010年诗歌被浙江大学、复旦大学、华东师范大学及湖南大学二十余位博士论文研究(见:《川沙诗歌精品欣赏》(英汉对照诗歌赏析集,主编:李咏吟, 副主编:李志雄 范昀 胡孝根, 中国河北教育出版社,2010年8月。ISBN:978-7-5434-7720-9)
长篇小说《阳光》《蓝花旗袍》(上下集)、《无根世代》(上下集)、《天心寺》作者。长篇小说由赵毅衡、白桦、莫言、哈金、虹影等作序及推荐。
主要作品:
中英文诗选集《拖着影子的人群》《春夜集》《海洋集》《爱叶集》《川沙爱情诗选集》《川沙诗歌精品欣赏》等 ;短篇小说集《银夜叉》《人工心脏》,长篇小说《阳光》《蓝花旗袍》《无根世代》《天心寺》,散文集《不列颠的距离》《提灯笼的哲人》, 中英对照诗论著作:《物主义时代隔海抒情诗观》《物主义时代诗论》《诗人艺术构成》等等。中英文剧本《裙歌》《合欢》均在加拿大多次公演。
曾任加拿大华语诗人协会会长、加拿大安省教育协会顾问;任加拿大国际大雅风文学奖评审委员会共同主席、执行主席,北美太平洋国际艺术联盟主席,中加国际电影节第一届至第十届剧本评审委员会主任。香港《亚太文学》出版社副总编辑。
本文作者周旭(Joseph周)簡介:
周旭(Joseph周):国际著名画家,目前居住在美国洛杉矶比弗利山庄,现担任美国好莱坞极光影业(Arclight Film)顾问,同时担任《中华人民共和国大典》学术委员、联合国儿童基金会(加拿大)艺术品募集专家、全国人大机关书画研究会顾问、中国书画家协会副主席、加拿大美术家荣誉主席、加拿大国际视觉艺术中心总监;是北美和亚洲多所艺术学院的客座教授及专家成员;《周旭国际美术馆》2001年在澳门落成。代表作品有,《叶剑英元帅画传》、该组画由中央文献出版社立项,当代中国出版社出版;《中国国画二十家(周旭卷)》由《美术家》画刊和海南出版社出版;大型组画《陈云生平》由中共中央文献研究室立项创作;《周旭美术作品集》由澳门市政厅出版;《周旭美术作品集(鐘馗卷)》由中华城市出版公司出版;以及《中华武魂百图》、《中华酒文化歷史名人百图》、《百名政要题鐘馗》、巨幅油画《布衣元帅徐向前》、《于右任望大陆诗意图》等。
