Reading　談閱讀

Reading

談閱讀

Wystan Hugh Auden

威斯坦·休·奧登

作者簡(jiǎn)介

威斯坦·休·奧登（Wystan Hugh Auden, 1907—1973），英裔美國(guó)詩(shī)人，20世紀(jì)最偉大的作家之一。他自幼在牛津接受教會(huì)文學(xué)熏陶，在擔(dān)任英國(guó)左翼政黨主筆多年后，于20世紀(jì)40年代移居美國(guó)。奧登在政治、心理學(xué)、神學(xué)方面均有建樹(shù)，作品以《葬禮藍(lán)調(diào)》（Funeral Blues）和《1939年9月1日》（September 1, 1939）流傳最廣，均被翻拍成電影。

本文節(jié)選自1962年出版的奧登散文集《染工之手與其他散篇》（The Dyer's Hand and Other Essays），文風(fēng)極其犀利，名言警句層出不窮。文中提及了一個(gè)關(guān)于閱讀的經(jīng)典問(wèn)題——荒島求生，該帶何書？不知作者睿智精辟的回答會(huì)不會(huì)令你大跌眼鏡。

A book is a mirror: if an ass peers into it, you can't expect an apostle to look out.

—G. C. Lichtenberg

One only reads well that which one reads with some quite personal purpose. It may be to acquire some power. It can be out of hatred for the author.

—Paul Valery

The interest of a writer and the interests of his readers are never the same and if, on occasion, they happen to coincide, this is a lucky accident.

In relation to a writer, most readers believe in the Double Standard: they may be unfaithful to him as often as they like, but he must never, never be unfaithful to them.

To read is to translate, for no two persons' experiences are the same. A bad reader is like a bad translator: he interprets literally when he ought to paraphrase and paraphrases when he ought to interpret literally. In learning to read well, scholarship, valuable as it is, is less important than instinct; some great scholars have been poor translators.

We often derive much profit from reading a book in a different way from that which its author intended but only (once childhood is over) if we know that we are doing so.

As readers, most of us, to some degree, are like those urchins who pencil mustaches on the faces of girls in advertisements.

One sign that a book has literary value is that it can be read in a number of different ways. Vice versa, the proof that pornography has no literary value is that, if one attempts to read it in any other way than as a sexual stimulus, to read it, say, as a psychological case—history of the author's sexual fantasies, one is bored to tears.

Though a work of literature can be read in a number of ways, this number is finite and can be arranged in a hierarchical order; some readings are obviously “truer”than others, some doubtful, some obviously false, and some, like reading a novel backwards, absurd. That is why, for a desert island, one would choose a good dictionary rather than the greatest literary masterpiece imaginable, for, in relation to its readers, a dictionary is absolutely passive and may legitimately be read in an infinite number of ways.

We cannot read an author for the first time in the same way that we read the latest book by an established author. In a new author, we tend to see either only his virtues or only his defects and, even if we do see both, we cannot see the relation between them. In the case of an established author, if we can still read him at all, we know that we cannot enjoy the virtues we admire in him without tolerating the defects we deplore. Moreover, our judgment of an established author is never simply an aesthetic judgment. In addition to any literary merit it may have, a new book by him has a historic interest for us as the act of a person in whom we have long been interested. He is not only a poet or a novelist; he is also a character in our biography.

A poet cannot read another poet, nor a novelist another novelist, without comparing their work to his own. His judgments as he reads are of this kind: My God! My Great-Grandfather! My Uncle! My Enemy! My Brother! My imbecile Brother!

In literature, vulgarity is preferable to nullity, just as grocer's port is preferable to distilled water.

Good taste is much more a matter of discrimination than of exclusion, and when good taste feels compelled to exclude, it is with regret, not with pleasure.

Pleasure is by no means an infallible critical guide, but it is the least fallible.

A child's reading is guided by pleasure, but his pleasure is undifferentiated; he cannot distinguish, for example, between aesthetic pleasure and the pleasures of learning or daydreaming. In adolescence we realize that there are different kinds of pleasure, some of which cannot be enjoyed simultaneously, but we need help from others in defining them. Whether it be a matter of taste in food or taste in literature, the adolescent looks for a mentor in whose authority he can believe. He eats or reads what his mentor recommends and, inevitably, there are occasions when he has to deceive himself a little; he has to pretend that he enjoys olives or War and Peace a little more than he actually does. Between the ages of twenty and forty we are engaged in the process of discovering who we are, which involves learning the difference between accidental limitation which it is our duty to outgrow and the necessary limitations of our nature beyond which we cannot trespass with impunity. Few of us can learn this without making mistakes, without trying to become a little more of a universal man than we are permitted to be.

It is during this period that a writer can most easily be led astray by another writer or by some ideology. When someone between twenty and forty says, apropos of a work of art, “I know what I like,”he is really saying “I have no taste of my own but accept the taste of my cultural milieu,”because, between twenty and forty, the surest sign that a man has a genuine taste of his own is that he is uncertain of it. After forty, if we have not lost our authentic selves altogether, pleasure can again become what it was when we were children, the proper guide to what we should read.

Though the pleasure which works of art give us must not be confused with other pleasures that we enjoy, it is related to all of them simply by being our pleasure and not someone else's.

一本書就是一面鏡子：如果一頭毛驢朝鏡里看，你就別指望能照出個(gè)圣徒。

——G. C. 利希滕貝格1

只有帶著點(diǎn)私人目的去讀書，才可能讀得好?；蛟S是想汲取力量，或許是出于對(duì)作者的憎恨。

——保爾·瓦雷里2

作家和讀者的興趣永遠(yuǎn)不一樣。如果兩者偶爾一致，那是幸運(yùn)的巧合。

對(duì)于讀者與作家的關(guān)系，大多數(shù)讀者持雙重標(biāo)準(zhǔn)：讀者可以隨心所欲地對(duì)作者不忠，作者卻萬(wàn)萬(wàn)不能對(duì)讀者不忠。

閱讀就是翻譯，因?yàn)闆](méi)有兩個(gè)人的閱讀體驗(yàn)是相同的。拙劣的讀者就像蹩腳的譯者——該意譯時(shí)直譯，該直譯時(shí)意譯。學(xué)習(xí)如何閱讀時(shí)，學(xué)問(wèn)固然有價(jià)值，卻不如直覺(jué)重要；有些偉大的學(xué)者就是糟糕的譯者。

擯棄作者有意安排的途徑，另辟蹊徑地讀一本書，往往能獲益匪淺。不過(guò)只有當(dāng)（已不再是孩子的）我們知道自己在做什么時(shí)，這種情況才成立。

在某種程度上，大多數(shù)讀者就像往廣告女郎臉上畫胡子的頑童。

一本書具有文學(xué)價(jià)值的標(biāo)志之一，是它能以多種方式閱讀。反之亦然，色情作品沒(méi)有文學(xué)價(jià)值的證據(jù)是，如果你讀它不是為了尋找性刺激，而是為了——打個(gè)比方——研究作者性幻想史的心理案例，那你一定覺(jué)得無(wú)聊透頂。

盡管文學(xué)作品能以多種方式閱讀，但方式十分有限，而且可以按等級(jí)次序排列。有些方式明顯比其他“更真實(shí)”，有些比較可疑，有些明顯是錯(cuò)的，有些——比如倒著讀小說(shuō)——?jiǎng)t是荒謬的。這就是為什么被困荒島時(shí)，人們會(huì)選擇帶一部好詞典，而非他能想到的最偉大的文學(xué)名著。因?yàn)閷?duì)讀者來(lái)說(shuō)，詞典是絕對(duì)被動(dòng)的，能以無(wú)限種方式閱讀。

我們第一次閱讀某位作家的作品時(shí)，不可能采取閱讀成名作家新作的方式。對(duì)于一位新作家，我們傾向于只看優(yōu)點(diǎn)或缺點(diǎn)；即使既看見(jiàn)優(yōu)點(diǎn)也看見(jiàn)缺點(diǎn)，我們也弄不清兩者的關(guān)系。對(duì)于成名作家——如果我們還讀他的作品的話——我們就會(huì)知道，不容忍令人嘆息的缺點(diǎn)，就無(wú)法欣賞令人欽佩的優(yōu)點(diǎn)。再者，我們對(duì)成名作家的評(píng)價(jià)，不僅僅是審美的評(píng)價(jià)。他的新書除了文學(xué)作品本身的優(yōu)點(diǎn)，還包含著我們長(zhǎng)久以來(lái)對(duì)他的喜愛(ài)。他不只是詩(shī)人或小說(shuō)家，還是我們自傳中的一個(gè)角色。

詩(shī)人讀其他詩(shī)人的詩(shī)歌，或小說(shuō)家讀其他小說(shuō)家的小說(shuō)時(shí)，一定會(huì)把別人和自己的作品作個(gè)比較。他對(duì)所讀作品的評(píng)價(jià)總是這類：我的上帝??！我的祖爺爺?。∥业木司税。∥业臄橙税。∥业男值馨?！我的蠢兄弟??！

在文學(xué)作品中，粗俗無(wú)聊勝過(guò)空洞無(wú)物，就像雜牌葡萄酒勝過(guò)蒸餾水。

好的品味不是指排斥劣作，而是指識(shí)別優(yōu)劣。如果某人品味極好而不得不排斥某書，那他也是心懷遺憾，而非心情愉悅。

讓人心情愉悅絕非萬(wàn)無(wú)一失的指南，但至少犯錯(cuò)最少。

孩子閱讀為求一樂(lè)，但樂(lè)趣對(duì)他來(lái)說(shuō)沒(méi)有差別。比如，他無(wú)法區(qū)別審美的樂(lè)趣、學(xué)習(xí)的樂(lè)趣和做白日夢(mèng)的樂(lè)趣。進(jìn)入青春期后，我們意識(shí)到有許多不同的樂(lè)趣，也知道其中有些無(wú)法同時(shí)感受，但我們需要?jiǎng)e人幫忙界定這些樂(lè)趣。無(wú)論是品嘗美食還是鑒賞文學(xué)作品，年輕人都會(huì)尋找一位值得信賴的權(quán)威導(dǎo)師。他按照導(dǎo)師的推薦去吃東西和閱讀，當(dāng)然也難免會(huì)偶爾欺騙一下自己；他不得不裝作喜歡吃橄欖，或是喜歡讀《戰(zhàn)爭(zhēng)與和平》，但實(shí)際上沒(méi)那么喜歡。20歲到40歲是我們弄清“自己是誰(shuí)”的時(shí)期，包括弄懂“偶然的限制”（我們有責(zé)任在成長(zhǎng)中突破這種限制）與“天性必須的限制”（逾越這種限制必受懲罰）之間的區(qū)別。在這個(gè)學(xué)習(xí)過(guò)程中，很少有人能不犯錯(cuò)，很少有人不想超越自我的局限，成為一個(gè)不平凡的人。

在這個(gè)時(shí)期，一位作家最容易被另一位作家或某些空論引入歧途。當(dāng)一個(gè)20歲到40歲之間的人提到一件藝術(shù)品時(shí)說(shuō)，“我知道自己喜歡什么”，他實(shí)際上說(shuō)的是“我沒(méi)有自己的品位，只是接受了我文化背景的品位”。因?yàn)樵?0歲到40歲之間，一個(gè)人擁有真正獨(dú)立品位的最確定的標(biāo)志，就是他對(duì)此不敢確定。40歲之后，如果我們還沒(méi)喪失真正的自我，樂(lè)趣就會(huì)再次像在我們兒時(shí)一樣，指引我們應(yīng)該讀些什么。

藝術(shù)品帶給我們的樂(lè)趣，不能和我們享受的其他樂(lè)趣混為一談。但是兩者之間存在聯(lián)系——這是屬于我們的樂(lè)趣，而不屬于其他人。

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1．格奧爾格·克里斯托夫·利希滕貝格（Georg Christoph Lichtenberg，1742—1799），德國(guó)物理學(xué)家、諷刺作家。

2．保爾·瓦雷里（Paul Valery，1871—1945），舊譯梵樂(lè)希，法國(guó)象征派大師、法蘭西學(xué)院院士，被譽(yù)為“20世紀(jì)法國(guó)最偉大的詩(shī)人”。