破譯法國(guó)人的談話(huà)法則

破譯法國(guó)人的談話(huà)法則

MY kids have recently picked up a worrying French slang word: bim (pronounced “beam”). It’s what children say in the schoolyard here after they’ve proved someone wrong, or skewered him with a biting remark. English equivalents like “gotcha” or “booyah” don’t carry the same sense of gleeful vanquish, and I doubt British or American kids use them quite as often.

我的孩子們最近學(xué)會(huì)了一個(gè)令人擔(dān)心的法語(yǔ)俚語(yǔ)詞：bim(發(fā)音與英語(yǔ)的“beam”相似)。孩子們?cè)谛@里證明別人犯了錯(cuò)，或者用尖刻的話(huà)把對(duì)方駁得體無(wú)完膚時(shí)，就會(huì)說(shuō)“bim”。英語(yǔ)里類(lèi)似的詞語(yǔ)“gotcha”或者“booyah”并沒(méi)有完全傳達(dá)出那種碾壓別人的喜悅。而且我也懷疑，英國(guó)和美國(guó)的孩子說(shuō)這些詞并沒(méi)有那么頻繁。

As an American married to an Englishman and living in France, I’ve spent much of my adult life trying to decode the rules of conversation in three countries. Paradoxically, these rules are almost always unspoken. So much bubbles beneath what’s said, it’s often hard to know what anyone means.

作為一個(gè)嫁給英國(guó)人、目前生活在法國(guó)的美國(guó)人，我成年后的大把時(shí)間，都在努力破譯這三個(gè)國(guó)家語(yǔ)言交流的規(guī)則。可矛盾的是，這些規(guī)則幾乎總是心照不宣的。人們說(shuō)出的話(huà)里有太多掩飾，常常很難明白真實(shí)的用意。

I had a breakthrough on French conversation recently, when a French sociologist suggested I watch “Ridicule,” a 1996 French movie (it won the César award for best film) about aristocrats at the court of Versailles, on the eve of the French Revolution.

在理解法國(guó)式對(duì)話(huà)方面，我最近取得了重大進(jìn)展。一位法國(guó)社會(huì)學(xué)家建議我看一看1996年的法國(guó)電影《荒謬無(wú)稽》(Ridicule)。這部片子贏得了凱撒獎(jiǎng)的最佳影片獎(jiǎng)項(xiàng)，講述了法國(guó)大革命前夕凡爾賽宮廷里貴族的故事。

Life at Versailles was apparently a protracted battle of wits. You gained status if you showed “esprit” — clever, erudite and often caustic wit, aimed at making rivals look ridiculous. The king himself kept abreast of the sharpest remarks, and granted audiences to those who made them. “Wit opens every door,” one courtier explained.

凡爾賽宮的生活似乎就是漫長(zhǎng)的唇槍舌劍，如果能展示出“esprit”——聰明、博學(xué)且時(shí)常很尖刻的機(jī)鋒，并讓其他人顯得可笑——那么你就能贏得地位。國(guó)王本人也時(shí)刻關(guān)注著最犀利的言辭，而說(shuō)出這種話(huà)的人會(huì)得到接見(jiàn)。一位侍臣解釋道，“機(jī)智能打開(kāi)每一扇門(mén)。”

If you lacked “esprit” — or suffered from “l’esprit de l’escalier” (thinking of a comeback only once you had reached the bottom of the staircase) — you’d look ridiculous yourself.

但是，如果你缺乏“esprit”，或者遭遇“l’esprit de l’escalier”(走到樓梯最下面，才想起如何反擊)，那么你自己就會(huì)顯得十分可笑。

Granted, France has changed a bit since Versailles. But many modern-day conversations — including the schoolyard cries of “Bim!” — make more sense once you realize that everyone around you is in a competition not to look ridiculous. When my daughter complained that a boy had insulted her during recess, I counseled her to forget about it. She said that just wouldn’t do: To save face, she had to humiliate him.

誠(chéng)然，法國(guó)比起凡爾賽的時(shí)代已經(jīng)發(fā)生了一些變化。但是當(dāng)你意識(shí)到，周?chē)乃腥硕荚跒榱瞬伙@得可笑而奮力競(jìng)爭(zhēng)，那么當(dāng)代的很多對(duì)話(huà)，包括校園里高呼的“Bim!”，就都顯得合理了。我的女兒抱怨，一個(gè)男孩課間欺負(fù)了她，我建議她別在意這件事。但她說(shuō)那是不行的：要想挽回面子，就必須羞辱回去。

Many children train for this at home. Where Americans might coo over a child’s most inane remark, to boost his confidence, middle-class French parents teach their kids to be concise and amusing, to keep everyone listening. “I force him or her to discover the best ways of retaining my attention,” the anthropologist Raymonde Carroll wrote in her 1987 book “Cultural Misunderstandings: The French-American Experience.”

許多孩子在家就接受了這種訓(xùn)練。為了激發(fā)孩子的信心，美國(guó)人對(duì)子女最愚蠢的言論或許都會(huì)柔聲贊許，但是法國(guó)中產(chǎn)階級(jí)父母卻會(huì)教導(dǎo)孩子要講話(huà)簡(jiǎn)潔風(fēng)趣，好讓所有人都愿意聽(tīng)。“我會(huì)強(qiáng)迫他或她，想方設(shè)法地吸引我的注意力，”人類(lèi)學(xué)家雷蒙德·卡羅(Raymonde Carroll)在她1987年出版的《文化誤解：法國(guó)和美國(guó)的經(jīng)驗(yàn)》(Cultural Misunderstandings: The French-American Experience)一書(shū)中寫(xiě)道。

This is probably worse in Paris, and among the professional classes. But a lot of French TV involves round-table discussions in which well-dressed people attempt to land zingers on one another. Practically every time I speak up at a school conference, a political event or my apartment building association’s annual meeting, I’m met with a display of someone else’s superior intelligence. (Adults don’t actually say “bim,” they just flash you a satisfied smile.) Jean-Benoît Nadeau, a Canadian who co-wrote a forthcoming book on French conversation, told me that the penchant for saying “no” or “it’s not possible” is often a cover for the potential humiliation of seeming not to know something. Only once you trust someone can you turn down the wit and reveal your weaknesses, he said. (I think the French obsession with protecting private life comes from the belief that everyone’s entitled to a humiliation-free zone.)

這種現(xiàn)象在巴黎，在專(zhuān)業(yè)階層當(dāng)中或許更嚴(yán)重。不過(guò)，法國(guó)的很多電視節(jié)目都有圓桌討論的情形，讓衣著考究的嘉賓用尖刻的口吻相互嘲弄。在學(xué)校會(huì)議、政治活動(dòng)，或者公寓樓居民協(xié)會(huì)的年會(huì)上發(fā)言時(shí)，我?guī)缀趺看味紩?huì)遇到別人炫耀高超的智力。(成年人并不會(huì)真的說(shuō)出“bim”，只是臉上閃現(xiàn)出一絲滿(mǎn)意的微笑而已。)加拿大人讓-貝努阿·納多(Jean-Benoît Nadeau)與人合著了一本關(guān)于法國(guó)式談話(huà)的書(shū)，即將出版。他告訴我，愛(ài)說(shuō)“不”、“不可能”的習(xí)慣，常常是為了避免因?yàn)榭雌饋?lái)不知道某事而可能受到的羞辱。他說(shuō)，只有當(dāng)你信任某人時(shí)，才能不必那么機(jī)智，袒露自己的弱點(diǎn)。(我想，法國(guó)人對(duì)保護(hù)私生活的偏執(zhí)，源于他們認(rèn)為每個(gè)人都有權(quán)得到一個(gè)免受羞辱的空間。)

At least it’s not boring. Even among friends, being dull is almost criminal. A French entrepreneur told me her rules for dinner-party topics: no kids, no jobs, no real estate. Provocative opinions are practically required. “You must be a little bit mean but also a little bit vulnerable,” she said.

至少這樣聊天不會(huì)無(wú)聊。即使是在朋友之間，表現(xiàn)得無(wú)趣幾乎也是犯罪行為。一名法國(guó)企業(yè)家告訴我，她為聚餐話(huà)題立下的規(guī)矩是：不談孩子、不談工作、不談房地產(chǎn)。這實(shí)際上就需要提出爭(zhēng)議性的意見(jiàn)。她說(shuō)，“必須要有一些惡毒，但也要有一些脆弱。”

It’s dizzying to switch to the British conversational mode, in which everyone’s trying to show they don’t take themselves seriously. The result is lots of self-deprecation and ironic banter. I’ve sat through two-hour lunches in London waiting for everyone to stop exchanging quips so the real conversation could begin. But “real things aren’t supposed to come up,” my husband said. “Banter can be the only mode of conversation you ever have with someone.”

切換到英國(guó)式的交談模式則會(huì)令人不知所措。在這種模式里，人人都努力表現(xiàn)得不把自己當(dāng)回事，結(jié)果就是大量的自嘲和諷刺性的調(diào)侃。在倫敦，我曾好幾次耐著性子堅(jiān)持到兩個(gè)小時(shí)的午餐結(jié)束，一直等著所有人停止相互打趣，這樣才能開(kāi)始真正的交談。但“可別以為一定會(huì)談什么實(shí)質(zhì)內(nèi)容，”我丈夫說(shuō)。“和有的人，只存在戲謔這一種談話(huà)模式。”

Earnestness makes British people gag. Viewers respond to the “gushy, tearful” speeches of American actors at the Oscars with a “finger-down-throat ‘I’m going to be sick’ gesture,” writes Kate Fox, author of “Watching the English.” Moralizing politicians get this, too.

真誠(chéng)會(huì)讓英國(guó)人嗆著。《觀察英國(guó)人》(Watching the English)的作者凱特·?？怂?Kate Fox)寫(xiě)道，對(duì)美國(guó)演員在奧斯卡頒獎(jiǎng)禮上“含淚發(fā)表的煽情”感言，英國(guó)觀眾會(huì)做出“把手指塞進(jìn)喉嚨里，表示‘我要吐了’的動(dòng)作”。面對(duì)愛(ài)說(shuō)教的政客，他們也不會(huì)客氣。

Even British courtships can be conducted ironically. “ ‘You’re just not my type,’ uttered in the right tone and in the context of banter, can be tantamount to a proposal of marriage,” Ms. Fox writes.

就連英國(guó)式的求愛(ài)，也可以在冷嘲熱諷中展開(kāi)。“在戲謔語(yǔ)境下用恰當(dāng)?shù)恼Z(yǔ)調(diào)說(shuō)出‘你決不是我喜歡的類(lèi)型’，簡(jiǎn)直無(wú)異于求婚，”?？怂箤?xiě)道。

Being ridiculous is sometimes required. The classic British hen night — a bachelor party for brides — involves groups of women wearing feather boas to a bar, then daring one another to “kiss a bald man” or “remove your bra without leaving the room.” Stumbling around drunk with friends — then recounting your misadventures for months afterward — is a standard bonding ritual.

有時(shí)候，表現(xiàn)得滑稽可笑是必須的。在傳統(tǒng)的英國(guó)女子婚前單身派對(duì)上，會(huì)有很多姑娘戴著羽毛圍巾前往酒吧，然后用激將法攛掇彼此“親吻一個(gè)禿頂男人” 或是“當(dāng)場(chǎng)脫掉內(nèi)衣”。醉醺醺地和朋友一起出丑——然后在接下來(lái)的幾個(gè)月里一直回顧自己當(dāng)時(shí)做的糗事——是建立友情的標(biāo)準(zhǔn)儀式。

After being besieged by British irony and French wit, I sometimes yearn for the familiar comfort of American conversations, where there are no stupid questions. Among friends, I merely have to provide reassurance and mirroring: No, you don’t look fat, and anyway, I look worse.

被英國(guó)式的嘲諷和法國(guó)式的機(jī)智包圍后，我時(shí)不時(shí)會(huì)渴望美國(guó)式談話(huà)給人帶來(lái)的那種熟悉的舒適感。這種談話(huà)里沒(méi)有問(wèn)題會(huì)被認(rèn)為是愚蠢的。在朋友之間，我只需要寬慰對(duì)方，并拿自己做參照：不，你看起來(lái)不胖，而且不管怎樣，我看上去更遭。