閱讀《城與不確定的牆》，尤其首數十頁的一些文字，對過去一直生活在香港的我多有觸動，作者是對我們處身之地的一種隱喻，還是放諸四海皆可：烏克蘭、加沙、阿富汗等戰亂頻仍、政治動盪不安的角落，以至貌似平穩安全的社會？牆，或高牆，以另一種形式來說，就是我們的社群體制、教化規範、文化傳統。身在其內的，無日無之被宰制、監控、局限與壓抑。
城裡的居民似乎並不關心自己住的地方有多大，又是什麼形狀，而且對於有人對這種事情感興趣的事實，似乎感到難以理解。這讓我覺得奇妙。想多了解自己出生與日常生活的地方，難道不是人之常情嗎？
或許在這座城裡，好奇心打從一開始就不存在。或者即使存在，也很稀薄，要不就是只限定在狹小的範圍。想想或許也很合理。如果住在城裡的許多人對各種事情，例如對牆外的世界起了好奇心的話，他（或她）可能會開始想看看牆外的世界，而這樣的想法對這座城並沒有好處，因為城必須在牆內達成完滿才行，不能有絲毫縫隙。
……看起來這座城裡過去似乎住著遠比現在更多人口，在這裡過著正常的生活。只是在某個時刻不知發生了什麼事，許多居民捨棄這座城離去了。離去得很匆忙，留下了大部分的家具什物。
到底發生了什麼事？
是戰爭嗎？是疾病嗎？還是大規模的政治變革嗎？居民是因自己的意志而移居到其他土地去？還是被強制驅離的呢？
無論如何，某個時刻發生了「什麼事」，多數居民來不及收拾東西就遷移了。留下來的人聚集在中央的沿河平地和西丘一帶，在那裡互相依靠，過起沉默寡言的寂靜生活。除此之外的外圍土地都被放棄，擱置不理任其荒廢了。
留下來的居民，從來不提那件「什麼事」。他們並沒有拒絕談。只是那件「什麼事」到底是什麼，彷彿已經完全消失在集體記憶之中了。可能在他們放棄影子的同時，連那份記憶也一起被帶走了吧。就像城裡的人對地理環境沒有水平的好奇心一樣，對歷史似乎也沒有特別懷有垂直的好奇心。(頁64-66)
“The residents of the town seemed
to have no interest in the size of the place where they lived, or its shape.
And they couldn’t grasp the fact that anyone would care. I found this odd.
Wasn’t it only natural for people to want to know more about the place they
were born, and lived in?
Perhaps curiosity didn’t exist
there. And even if it did, it might be rare, its scope quite limited. But that
might stand to reason. If a person who lived in the town became curious about
all sorts of things, like the world outside the wall, he (or she) might want to
see what lay beyond. And if they began to think that way, it wouldn’t be good
for the town, since the town had to remain perfectly sealed off inside its
wall.”
“It seems as though, in the past,
many more people had lived in this town. And lived ordinary lives here. Yet at
a certain point something had happened, and most of the residents had
abandoned the town, leaving behind their furniture and household goods.
So what in the world had happened?
A war? An epidemic? Or some huge
political upheaval? Had people moved elsewhere on their own initiative? Or were
they forcibly deported?
At any rate, something had
taken place once and most of the residents had, without delay, moved elsewhere.
Those who remained had gathered along the central plain next to the river, or
on the western hills, and lived together, shoulder to shoulder, a quiet life,
seldom speaking. The rest of the land had been abandoned and left to the wild.
The remain residents didn’t talk
about that something that had happened. It wasn’t that they refuse to,
but more likely it had been erased from their collective memory. Maybe that
memory had been completely lost, like the shadows they had given up. Just as
the people of the town had no horizontal curiosity about the geography, they
lacked any vertical curiosity about history. (p.51-52)
然而最矛盾的是：所有人都是組成社會體制的一員，我們每時每刻不停與「它」相互撞擊衝突（無論是外顯還是內在的）；同時每個獨立個體亦與生俱來，持續為高牆加瓦添磚。不被主流社群融入、被「它」從屬生成的組織，諸如政府、部分教會、或學校等所「欺凌」，受害者的另一向度，也會是個參與者、或僅僅是旁觀的默許者。牆不是一成一變，而是每刻都在扭曲滋長，始於人性，卻傷害多少個體靈魂！
……偶爾一陣風吹過林間，樹枝像古老的骨頭般喀噠喀噠響，我在被遺棄的無人土地上一邊走，一邊把牆的形狀記錄在筆記本上。
牆對我的「好奇心」似乎並沒有特別在意。只要有心，牆想怎麼妨礙我的探索應該都做得到。例如以倒木堵住道路、以叢生的草木築起圍籬、讓道路隱沒之類的。以牆所擁有的力量，要做到這種事很簡單吧——每天近距離看著牆，讓我產生這樣強烈印象。這道牆是擁有這種力量的。不，那與其說是印象，不如說更接近確信。而且牆也毫不鬆懈地關注著我的一舉一動。我的肌膚可以感覺到那道視線。
牆對我那樣的嘗試並不介意——不如說，反倒覺得有趣似的，你想這樣做的話，就隨你高興吧。反正做這種事，也沒有任何幫助啊。(頁66-67)
Sometimes the wind would blow
through the woods, and the branches would rustle like a clatter of old bones.
As I walked through this abandoned, deserted land, I took notes on the shape of
the wall.
The wall didn’t seem to care about
my curiosity. If it had wanted to, the wall should have been able to put
a stop to my exploration. By cutting off the path, for instance, with a fallen
tree, or with a barrier of thickets, or by making me lose sight of the path.
The power of the wall should have easily been able to do that. Seeing the wall up close day after day I'd gotten the strong impression that this wall has that much power. No, less an impression than a
certainty. And for its part the wall watched over every move I made. I could
sense its gaze on my skin.
The wall seemed not to worry about my little experiment----or maybe it actually found it of interest. If you want to do that, go right ahead. Because it’s not going to serve any purpose. (P.53)
 |
| 小城社區圖書館，正展示英譯本，他的文句風格，似乎更適合印歐語境 |
我們既然在集體對個人的擠壓戕害有份，唯人性可恨又可貴，對於歷史的竄改、真相的虛構，有人仍然堅持撻伐，用意志壓住惰性，迫自己不要麻木，並鼓勵別人不要習非成「慣」。記憶與遺忘是人類永恆的抗爭吧，無論內己還是對外。無奈的是，面對過去的傷害，物種天性很多時會選擇逃避，如同其他哺乳動物遠離火苗，是以選擇性失憶、或腦袋機制下意識會漸漸理順一些檔案，尋求如何令不安的心緒和緩，不易再被刺痛，這就成了「體制高牆」展現的常客——政權，及其從屬利益者，一個好好的助燃劑，造就人為的「真相」。
老人坐在窗邊的椅子上，一面啜飲以浦公英製造的代用咖啡，一面對我說了幾件往事。他和這座城裡的許多居民一樣，對過去發生的事情幾乎都沒有記憶了（也或許是沒有努力去回想），不過對於幾件個人的事情，儘管只有片段，但也還清楚記得。可能對這座城不會造成不利的記憶，就會留下來吧。人總不能記憶完全空白地活著。當然不能保證真相沒有被改寫成對城有利的樣子，或記憶沒有經過捏造。不過老人所說的話，在我的耳裡——至少在因為發燒而頭腦還有點迷糊的我的耳裡——聽來感覺是實際發生過的事情。(頁68)
The old man sat down on a chair by
the window, and as he sipped and ersatz coffee made from dandelions, he told me
some stories of his past. Like most of the residents of the town, he remembered
little (or perhaps tried hard not to recall past events), though he did
remember a few personal facts, disconnected yet clear memories. Probably parts
of the past that weren’t inconvenient to the town. You couldn’t completely wipe
out people’s memories or a person wouldn’t be able to live. Naturally there was
no proof that these memories hadn’t been conveniently rewritten of fabricated.
Yet the stories the old man told sounded to me---- or at least to my ears, with
a mind still a bit fuzzy from the fever---- as though they had likely occurred. (P.54-55)
清晨和黃昏，沒有特別的事要做時，我會在町的周邊漫無目的地散步。其中發出水聲的沿河道路，是我最喜歡的路線之一。
河邊有一條散步步道，幾乎沒有什麼人會走，不過偶爾還是會和慢跑的人或遛狗的人擦肩而過。朝著下游方向在步道上走幾個公里後，舖設的路面突然終斷，道路偏離河邊，拐入廣大的草叢裡。我不以為意，繼續前進，不久，大約走十分鐘左右——連人走出來的小路也消失了。然後我在那已無路可走的草原正中央，一個人站著。綠色雜草長得很高，周圍沒有任何聲音。沉默在耳裡響。只有紅色蜻蜓在我四周無聲地成群飛舞。
抬頭仰望，只見天空蔚藍，一片晴朗。秋天雪白扎實的雲，像插入故事的幾個片段插曲般固定在那裡。我將一口氣深深吸入胸腔之中，感受到一股濃濃的青草味。那裡就是草的王國，我則是不解草的意義的無禮入侵者。
一個人站在那裡時，我每次都感到心情悲哀。那是很久以前嘗過的，記憶中深沉的悲哀，那悲哀我記得非常清楚。那是言語所無法說明，而且不會隨時間的經過而消失的那種深沉悲哀。那是把看不見的傷，悄悄留在看不見的地方的悲哀。看不見的東西，到底該如何處理才好呢？
我抬起頭，再一次注意側耳傾聽，是否能聽見河川流水的聲音。但任何聲音都聽不見。連風都沒在吹。雲一直固定不動，停在天空同一個地方。我靜靜閉上眼晴，並等待溫暖的眼淚盈眶、流出。但那看不見的悲哀，連眼淚都不肯給我。
於是我放棄了，安靜地走上來時的道路。(頁199-200)
In the morning and evening, when I
didn’t have anything in particular to do, I like to walk around the outskirts
of town. The path along the river, with its lovely sound of rushing water, was
one my favorite routes.
There was a paved walking trail
along the river, though hardly anyone used it, and I only occasionally passed a
jogger or someone out walking their dog. The path continued several miles
downstream, then it branched off from the river into broad field and turned
into a dirt path. I continued on, undeterred, and after a short time, maybe ten
minutes, even that narrow footpath petered out and disappeared. I found myself
standing, along in the middle in ears. A flock of red dragonflies flitted about
me without a sound.
I looked up at the clear pure-blue
sky. Hard, white autumn-like cloud were set there like fragmentary episodes in
tales. When I breathed in, I smelled the robust fragrance of grasses. This was
really a grass kingdom, and I was a boorish intruder unable to fathom that
grassy significance of it all.
Standing there along, I always felt
sad, a deep sadness I’d felt before, long, long ago. I remembered that sadness
very well. A sadness that can’t be explained, that doesn’t melt away over time,
that quietly leaves invisible wounds, in a place you cannot see. And how can
you deal with something you can’t see?
I looked up, listening carefully to
see if I could catch the sound of the flowing river. But I heard nothing, not
even the wind. Clouds were pinned in place in the sky. I quietly closed my
eyes, waiting for tears to well up and trickle down my face. Not that unseen
sadness wouldn’t even allow me to cry.
I gave up trying, and silently went
back down the path I’d taken. (P.162-163)
以我的經驗來說，人生裡的重要事件，大多是在預想不到的時候發生的。而死亡這件事，也是人生中相當重要的事件之一。(頁249)
From my own experience, I’d say the
important things in life usually happen unexpectedly. And dying would, I think,
count. (P.203)
有時候，會有冷風忽然從墓碑之間吹過，葉子落盡的樹枝發出一陣難過的呻吟。我把喀什米爾重新在脖子上圍緊，抬頭仰望天空。冬天的太陽，使盡力氣把光明和溫暖投向大地，但這樣還是不夠。世界——眾人、貓群、無處可去的靈魂——需要更多的光明與溫暖。(頁342)
Occasionally, as if a sudden though
arose, a gust of freezing wind rushed through the gravestones. The leafless
branches of the tree in the woods raised a wretched howl for a time. I wrapped
my cashmere scarf around my neck and gazed up at the sky. The winter sun was
doing its best to provide the earth with brightness and warmth, but its wasn’t
enough. The world---the people, the cats, the souls with no place to go
---sought after yet more light, yet more warmth. (P.281-282)
「是啊，孤獨真是非常難過。無論活著也好死了也好，那種被刀割的痛苦、難過，都沒有改變。雖然如此，過去曾經心愛過人，這強烈而鮮明的記憶還留在我心中。那感觸還深深浸染了我的身體，留在雙手的掌心。而且沒有那份溫暖，也會讓死後靈魂的狀態，出現很大的差別。」
「我想你過去也曾深深的愛過誰，留下強烈而鮮明的記憶。而且曾經追隨那人的魂魄，去過遙遠的地方旅行，又再回到這裡。」(頁312)
“Indeed, loneliness is extremely
hard. Whether you’re alive or dead, the wasting away, the pain is exactly the
same. But even so I still have the strong, vivid memories of having loved
someone with all my heart. A feeling that seeped into palms of my hands and
still remains. Whether you gave that warmth or not makes all the difference in
the way your soul remains after death.”
“You, too, loved someone deeply in the past and have strong memories of having loved. And you pursued that person’s soul and traveled somewhere far, far away, and have now returned.” (P.256-257)
看過村上春樹的著作不算多，只兩三本散文、一些小說短篇集、長篇《挪威的森森》、《1Q84》、《刺殺騎士團長》、鼠三部曲等幾本，碰巧近年看過《世界末日與冷酷異境》，留有稍許印象，便興起對作者心路、以至生命歷程來一個胡亂虛寫的設想，懇請村上迷見諒。留意到村上春樹數年前捐出畢生收藏的書籍、音樂唱片給母校，大學於是設立了以他命名的圖書館，館內模擬重置他的起居日常，他也有提供意見吧，這些都便利後人研讀探究。走到七十多歳，大概意會到自己迎來人生的最後階段，帶不走的不如流芳後世吧。
以下僅是透過某些小說情節、主人公的心理，嘗試折「寫」出作者本尊的人生，當然都知道拿著虛構的文章，彷如徒手捧沙，徒勞是必然的。就當我是把同一位作者的主人公群像拼湊一起，成為一個四不像的超級主人公吧。
他的人生到底經歷過什麼呢？尤其在青春期與踏入成年之際，大學時置身於躁動的學生運動。表面看來他對參與運動者的輕蔑，不屑他們虛耗能好好學習的幸福。實際上他比任何人都火熱，冷漠是因他看清那些搞手為自己利益算計的私心，恥與為伍，學生時期已養成冷眼靜觀、特立獨行的舉止個性。
他與兩位識於微時的好友，假使能繼續下去，應會成為忘年莫逆。可恨天意弄人，一次意外，其中一位好友離世了，人生中重要的事就這麼突然改變了，原來心理是無法預備的。一顆生命遽然地結束，對他的影響是終其一生的。他的志業、他的人生走向、他心之所繫，自此就被導向至一條往復循環的路軌之上。在人生含苞待放的時候，一位重要的人的離開，繼而自己另一位更重要的人，也因著該朋友的離開，在面對極端痛苦，無可救藥的情況，而選擇提早結束生命。對於他，無疑是雙重打擊。這位他深深愛著的人，永恆地失去了，傷痛卻永恆存活在心坎。好一段年月後，他開始讓回憶、讓思念、讓想像，在紙筆上自然流動，漸漸地，無以名狀、無法以哭泣抒發的心情，被文字萃取出來的，無聲地灌溉自己、灌溉他人。
他的人生，早在預備煥發綻開之前，戛然而止，唯有以文字寄託，他才能被安撫，紓緩治理這個無法痊癒的心緒症候。可以說，如果沒有堅持不懈的書寫與閱讀，他的生命早就瞬間地老去、消亡。世界雖然對他不算寛厚，然而他創作的同時，不知不覺間正撫慰滋養著無數心靈受創的孤寂游魂。他就是以德報怨地去回應上蒼，所賦予他在終生承擔哀慟，從而衍生文思才情的這個恩賜，不無諷刺。
但一星期一次造訪他的墓園，不僅已經成為我習慣的儀式，現在也是我不可或缺的、可以說是支撐著我內心力量的一件事。這是我在這個町的生活中，極為重要的活動。
但子易先生對我來說，可以說是比真正活著的周圍任何人都更讓我感到生命的氣息。不只是在這個町，而是到目前為止，我所置身的任何場所。
我對他獨特的人格懷有好感，對他一貫的生活方式懷有共鳴。對子易先生來說，命運待他絕對不算寛厚，但他從未陷入自憐之中，仍努力不懈，盡可能讓他的人生——對自己或對周圍的人而言——有益處。
他的生活雖然相當孤立，但他總是為人設想，重視與他人做心的交流。尤其熱愛圖書，當町營圖書館陷入財政困難時，他慷慨解囊，投入私人財產經營圖書館以及購書。我對子易先生這樣正值的為人深感敬佩。每星期一造訪墓園時與其說是參拜，不如說已經變得像是去見活著的友人似的心情。(頁356-357)
Yet the weekly visit to his grave
had become more than just a habitual ceremony, but something that I looked
forward to. In my life, here in this town, I need it, very much.
It’s a strange way to putting it,
but for me, Mr. Koyasu seemed much more alive, someone I felt the breath of
life in, more than any of the actual living people around me. This held true
not just for this town, but for everywhere I’d ever lived.
I loved his unique personality, and
felt empathy toward his unswerving way of life. Fate had not been kind to him,
yet he never lapsed into self-pity but did his utmost to make his life---for
himself, and for those around him---something meaningful.
His life was quite isolated, yet he
cherished his emotional exchange with others. He loved reading above all else,
and when the town library was struggling financially he took over, invested his
own money, and operated it, making sure that the library’s holdings were
substantial. As a result, the most one-man little town library had an amazing
catalog of books, both in quantity and quality. I couldn’t help but respect this
well-ordered lifestyle of his, and visiting the cemetery every Monday felt less
like visiting a grave than going to see a friend who was alive. (P.295)
