<b>The author of this article, "Zhang Jiawei", welcome to the Douban App to follow Ta. </b>
I slept until midnight and woke up, watching the news, knowing that Márquez had passed away. I told my girlfriend about it, and she screamed. Then I asked: How old are you?
87 years old.
Why do you think he should be much older than this?
Because he was around us, treated as a classic, too long and too long.
When I was a kid, it wasn't easy to read Márquez. He doesn't give the mainland permission, you have to rely on piracy, rely on old books in the old library to read him. It's even more difficult than reading "Jin Ping Mei" - "Jin Ping Mei" is there, no increase, no decrease, at most the clean book is deleted some lines, you can find it, you can read.
"Love in the Time of Cholera", I first read the text circulating on the Internet, translated by Ji Minghui.
In 1982, the Shanghai Translation Agency published a collection of his short stories, red and yellow covers, zhao Deming and other translators.
In some foreign novel anthologies, you can see some scattered translations. For example, "Roses Made of Paper". For example, "Night of the Possum".
Many articles have been circulated on the Internet. For example, "Streamers Like Water".
In some of his pirated collections of essays, he was able to read articles such as "The Ghost of the Nobel Prize".
I first read Dead Leaves in a collection of masters, including Nabokov's Bachmann and Duras's The Sound of the Piano.
At that time, we also had a popular pocket translation, which was a collection of "A Pre-publicized Murder" and "Innocent Erendilla and Her Grandmother". That series also had Cortázar's Southern Highway, Fuentes, and Carpentier stuff.
Zhejiang Literature and Art Publishing House published a collection, "The Eternal Death Beyond Love", which gathered his early famous novels, including "The Colonel Who Nobody Wrote to Him". I bought that book in 2005. A friend left a message with everyone on QQ: "I saw "The Eternal Death Beyond Love" at the Monsoon Academy at The Station of South Shaanxi Road! One more book left! I took a taxi and rushed over, bought it, sat and watched; after a while, three other friends rushed in the door, "What about books?" ”
Because of this version, I once disliked Han Shuijun's translation, because he translated "The Eternal Death Beyond Love" into "Love Always Hides Behind death".
The preconceived notions are too strong.
The world has always said that Márquez is magical and lonely. Absolutely. So is True of One Hundred Years of Solitude. "Who Moved the Rose" is like this. So is Eve the Reincarnation of the Cat. If you believe everything he says, then his magic genes come from two people:
As a teenager in the attic, he first read the famous opening of Kafka's Metamorphosis: "One morning, Gregor. Samsa woke up from an uneasy sleep and found himself lying in bed turned into a giant beetle", once shouting "That's it!" He found that Mr. Kafka, who was across the Atlantic Ocean, and his grandmother, Marquez, had similarities in their narrative approach: no matter what story they told, they were "calm and determined when the sky fell." Another man, in his first reading of Juan Lulfo's Pedro Palermo, was in the years of his founding, who went to Mexico and was forced to spend the day in endless queues at the immigration office.
But most of the time, he wasn't magical. "Love in the Time of Cholera" is very realistic. "A Pre-Publicized Murder" is very calm. He's not alone either. I know a teacher who doesn't like Márquez very much for the following reasons:
"He's so lively!"
He's actually a very lively person. He was a rare novelist who was willing to tell his own story. Compared to him, Borges was a standard hermit.
So we know: On a rainy spring day in 1957, Márquez first met Hemingway— a journalist who had only published Dead Leaves, at the age of 58, and had just won the Nobel Prize in Literature three years earlier. Twenty-four years later, in 1981, the year before Márquez won the Nobel Prize in Literature, the New York Times published the story: On Avenue Saint Michel, Márquez shouted to Hemingway across the street, "Master! Hemingway replied, "Goodbye, friend!" ”
That is the year, 25 years before he won the Nobel Prize in Literature, Márquez finished writing "The Colonel Who Didn't Write to Him", in an unheated room, shivering with cold, revising a second, third, fourth... According to his own account, the novel has been revised nine times.
So we know that his father, Gabriel, was a pharmacist and his mother, Louisa, was the daughter of a military family. His maternal grandmother would tell many myths and describe the room as full of ghosts, ghosts, and demons; and his maternal grandfather was a... captain. A conservative colonel who fought in the Civil War, a colonel who was seen as a hero. He once took Marquez as a child to the "United Fruit Company" store to see the ice. He was once silent about the "banana company massacre." He once said to Márquez, "You can't imagine how heavy a dead man is"—stories that appear in novels like One Hundred Years of Solitude and Dead Leaves. In addition, the old colonel has been waiting for the government's pension all his life.
So we know that he was going to be in Mexico at the age of his founding, when he was recommended by his friend Álvaro Mutis to read Juan Lulfo's Pedro Palermo, and then he really began to have magical thoughts. Prior to this, his idols were Faulkner and Hemingway. Neither of these men was magical enough, but they were the leading narrative masters of the 20th century. Faulkner's style and structure, Hemingway's outline and language. Márquez said that the former was his spiritual teacher, while the latter taught him all the skills.
So we know that he was a young man in Colombia, when he was a journalist, sneaking down the street during the day, going to a car shop haunted by prostitutes at night, mortgaging his bags on a cabinet, and finding a bed to lie down to sleep. The only thing in the collateral bag was the manuscript of Dead Leaves. In 1973, at the age of 45, Márquez said Dead Leaves was his favorite novel, "It was my most sincere and natural novel." ”
So we know how he, along with Graham Green and Neruda, privately complained about the Nobel Prize. How he thought about the beginning of "many years later" on his travels.
And all of this is very valuable.
The whole world is learning from him to write novels. The most elementary, of course, is a parody of his phrase "Years later... soon...", and those speckled magical intentions.
(Eight years ago, I wrote a story about a rose planted in sand that turns it into fertile land, burns and smokes it to make people fly transparently, planted in captivity by the junta, forbidden to be touched by residents, imprisoned in a glass prison, and then triggered a series of escape struggles...) Where the inspiration for this thing comes from is self-evident. Of course, this is not unusual: I know, from editors to reporters, everyone who has written, when he was a teenager, he must have tried to learn to write something similar to the old horse, which is almost a kind of collective cultivation, and its popularity is not less than imitating Wang Xiaobo... ）
Those who read him a little more will notice the Faulkner-esque first-person tone of Dead Leaves; the puzzle-like inverted narrative order. You will notice his use of Hemingway's technique in "Eternal Death Beyond Love": white depiction of the Colonel's actions and dialogue, and rare psychological monologues. There are countless plots that are flashing in the light, a stroke, and the dragon sees the beginning and does not see the end.
He likes to use a lot of dialogue, filling in the plot and plot, which should be counted as the space of the cutscene.
Some dialogue is also used as a rhythm to divide the novel: no doubt, no wavering, with a certain, confident tone — even if many of the content seems to be simply strange: "God knows, why can you say such things with certainty and no surprise?" For example, in A Premeditated Murder, Bayardo, while taking a nap in a rocking chair, first saw Angela and said to someone:
"When I wake up, remind me that I'm going to marry him."
In his novels, in the case of those magical plots, the fool and the fool state in this unsurprising tone some details that are contrary to common sense; in those plots that are not very magical, the emotional people use this tone to shout some assertive slogans. This is Márquez's characteristic: he can not be magical, can not play with colorful and gorgeous imagery, but these "it seems that everyone has a confident mind, their own set of worldview" tone, so that he can in all the stories, logical, but also let people not lose the interesting narrative. One standard routine is:
According to her father's statement, Zhang Jiawei is a suitable marriage partner. His list of possessions, in addition to what the average young man should have, included screens of colonial specialties on both sides and chimes brought on ships sailing at the end of the 19th century. For people like them, similar displays of wealth are enough to gain value in social situations. She listened intently to her father's statement, listening to his father's already led the topic to the point of inconceivability, such as Zhang Jiawei's plan to cover two truckloads of roses at the door of the olive oil store she had to pass through when she went to school, and finally came to the following conclusion:
"You can bring this sentence to him as it is," she said without changing her face, "Zhang Jiawei is a possum who only steals nectarines!" ”
Other authors have always tried to make the plot of the novel as natural as possible, afraid that the reader will lose interest in reading it, and will find it suspicious of its authenticity; but Márquez's novel does not have this problem—through the characters' unhesitating, assertive tone, he slips through all possible obstacles and allows the novel to flow seamlessly.
Europeans used to say that the novels of Schilling, Nabokov's pen name, were generous: like a magician, after shaking the fancy, let you see the hole cards. Márquez was more generous. In many novels, he repeatedly plays these skills and plays in different ways. He was always writing about an outsider who fell in love with a local girl, and usually couldn't do so. For example, in "Love in the Time of Cholera", the doctor falls in love with Fermina, such as the tragedy of Bayardo and his bride in "A Pre-publicized Murder", such as the male protagonist in "The Eternal Death Beyond Love", who runs to the countryside to solicit votes, and can fall in love with people at first sight.
He always loved to write about a girl who was forced to sell herself, and the male protagonist with him twisted the sweat-soaked sheets.
He always loved to write about a colonel, a foreign doctor abandoned by the townspeople.
He always loved to write about roses.
But he had the ability to write it all beautifully.
Therefore, many readers started from "One Hundred Years of Solitude", but after entering the door, their likes for him were scattered. What is his favorite? "A Premeditated Murder Case"? One Hundred Years of Solitude? "Love in the Time of Cholera"? The General in the Labyrinth? "The Fall of the Patriarch"? Which of his short stories do you like the most? The Sea in Madness? The World's Prettiest Drowner? "The Old Man with the Giant Wings"?
And, of course, his hilarious self-descriptions.
He said he liked Hemingway, Faulkner and Lulfo and recommended it generously. He admits that he loves watching War and Peace and The Count of Monte Cristo. He bluntly said that "we novelists read novels mainly in how it is written". He admired Hemingway's kind of help in writing from the details of life. That is, he not only shows his skills, but also shows it semi-openly: how to live the life of a writer. Of course, there is a lot of content in these hilarities that says where and where it is—that's an important part of his personality—but these details alone are enough to be learned. Mo Yan and Yu Hua had carefully recorded their experiences about him. In fact, this generation of novelists in the world, including Chinese novelists, has really benefited him too much.
The day before yesterday, I gave a lecture about the masters of Paris. It begins with Benjamin's Paris, capital of the 19th century and ends with the famous meeting between Márquez and Hemingway in Saint-Michel in 1957. After the lecture, my teacher, an old gentleman with white hair, said that he knew a senior, "Marquez had seen it when he was in Paris. ”
So I wondered, "Did Marquez really not even have heating in 1957?" ”
Teacher: "I can't confirm this." But according to him, Márquez was a very talkative person at that time, and he kept talking. ”
I don't know if it's true or not, but when I hear it, I think: Well, it seems that I can imagine that scene...
Later, when I was writing downstairs, she asked upstairs:
"Why hasn't he published much in years, but it's still sad to hear that he's passed away?"
Me: "Because we all think he's a good writer?" ”
Her: "What else?" ”
I think there's another possibility... For the first time in our lifetimes, we experience this kind of "super masters live in our time" to "super masters are dead". Like in 1910, when the people of the world knew that Tolstoy was over, what kind of feeling? It feels like as long as Márquez is alive, even if he stops writing novels, you always feel like you have a thought; he's gone, and part of his experience is really history.
To put it mildly: If one day, Mr. Jin Yong is also free from the world, I will probably feel this way.
One of my favorite books, Márquez, is The General in the Labyrinth. Of course, the more I get to the second half, the more sad and depressed it becomes, so I like to watch the first half, when Bolívar still has the strength to mock the world. Of course, in the end, Bolívar threw away the words "When will I get out of this labyrinth?" and passed away.
For Márquez, he is now, freed from this labyrinth and gone to his town of Magundo, which is full of ice cubes, magnets, colonels, stone birds, roses, banana companies, cockfighters, pig knives, peacocks, prostitutes, trucks, oranges, magicians, bars, dentists, loneliness, pig tails, parrots, and love.
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<b>The author of this article, "Zhang Jiawei", currently lives in Paris, has published 738 original texts and is still active in the Douban community. Download Douban App search user "Zhang Jiawei" to follow Ta. </b>
![Márquez: Nostalgia begins on a record[fig]](data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAP///wAAACwAAAAAAQABAAACAkQBADs=)