Salinger: The Heart of a Broken Story

Text / Jerome David Salinger

Every day, Justin Hoganschlag, a printing assistant who earns thirty dollars a week, gets up close and sees sixty women he's never seen before. So in all these years of living in New York, Justin Hoganschlager has probably seen 75,120 women. Of those 75,120 women, about 25,000 were between the ages of fifteen and thirty. Of those 25,000, about 5,000 weighed between 105 and 125 pounds. Of these 5,000 people, 1,000 are pretty. Only 500 are glamorous. Only 100 of them are extraordinarily attractive. There are only 25 that evoke long, provocative whistles. And there was only 1 person, which made Justin Hoganschlag fall in love at first sight.

There are two kinds of red face water in this world, one that emits a dangerous atmosphere at every angle, and the other is not full of red face water.

Her name is Shirley Lester. She was twenty years old (eleven years younger than Hogenschlage), five feet four inches tall (the top of her head was just up to Hogenschlag's eyes), and weighed 117 pounds (as light as a feather). She was a stenographer. She lives with her mother, Agnès Lester, an old nelson Eddie fan and takes care of her. People often describe Shirley's appearance this way: "She is as beautiful as a painting." ”

An early morning on the Third Avenue bus. Hogan Schrage stood next to Shirley Lester and fell into the abyss. Only because Shirley's lips were open in a special way. Shirley was reading a cosmetics commercial on the bus, and as she read it, she relaxed her chin slightly. And the moment Shirley's mouth opened slightly, her lips opened slightly. At this moment, Shirley was the deadliest person in all of Manhattan. As Hoganschlag looked at her, he felt the loneliness that had haunted him since he had come to Manhattan had been healed. But the pain that comes with it! The pain of standing next to Shirley Lester and not being able to bend down to kiss her slightly open lips was so intense that it was hard to tell!

That's the beginning of my story for Collier Weekly. I should be writing a gentle love story about "boy meets girl". What could be better than this, I think, that the world needs a "boy meets a girl" story. To write a story like this, the author must go through the routine of letting the boy meet the girl. But in this story, I can't do this, I can't get this field, I can't let Hoganschlager and Shirley meet in a suitable way, this is my reason:

It is obviously impossible to make Hoganschlag bend down and sincerely say these things:

"Sorry to bother. I love you dearly and I am crazy for you. I know I can love you for the rest of my life. I'm a printing assistant and make thirty bucks a week. Oh my God, I love you so much. Are you free tonight? ”

Such a HoganSchlag may be a fool, but not a fool. He may be stupid as if he was born yesterday, but not as if he was born today. You can't expect the readers of Collier's Weekly to believe such childish settings. After all, you get what you pay for.

Of course, I can't suddenly give Hogan schrage a maple syrup-like elegance, like an old cigarette case mixed with William Berville and a Fred Asdel top hat.

"Don't get me wrong, Miss. I'm a magazine illustrator. This is my business card. I think the elements describe how you look, more than I desire for everything I've ever painted. Maybe this is good for you and me. Can I call you tonight, or sometime in the near future? (Gracefully laughed briefly) I wish I didn't sound so hysterical. (Another brief laugh) I think I might be a little hysterical. ”

Oh, my God! This kind of dialogue conveys a cautious, bright, and desperate smile. If only Hoganschlag could actually say such a thing. And Shirley had to be not only a nelson Eddie fan, but also a member of the Keystone Mobile Library.

You may see why I'm against such a setting.

Of course, Hogan Schlager could say something like this:

"Excuse me, are you Vima Pricha?"

Shirley would answer coldly as she searched for a place to stay on the other side of the bus:

"You've identified the wrong person."

"What a coincidence," said Hoganschlag, "I was willing to swear that you were Verma. You wouldn't happen to be from Seattle, would you? ”

"No." - Again came a cold reply.

"I'm from Seattle."

Continue looking for a place to stay.

"Seattle, a great little town. I mean it's really great. I've been here — I mean New York — for just four years. I'm a printing assistant. My name is Justin Hoganschlager."

"I really don't—it's fun."

Alas, with such dialogue, Hogan Schrager could do nothing! He is plain-looking, and has no personal charm and exquisite clothing to impress Shirley in this scene. He didn't have any chance. And like I said before, if you really want to write a moving story of "boy meets girl", you must let the boy meet the girl in a suitable way.

Maybe Hogan Schrage could pass out so he would grab hold of something that happened to Shirley's ankle. He could have inadvertently broken her stockings and even pulled out a long, nice-looking slit. People would make room for the confused Hoganschlag, and he would slowly stand up and say vaguely, "I'm really fine, thank you," and then suddenly say, "Oh my God! I'm so sorry! Miss, I broke your stockings. You must ask me to compensate you. I will not have cash on me, but please tell me your address. ”

But Shirley wouldn't tell him her address. She would just be a little embarrassed and incoherent: "It really doesn't matter. In his heart, he hoped that Hogan Shrag never existed. It didn't make sense, and a boy like Hoganschlag from Seattle wouldn't have wanted to grab Shirley's ankle, at least not on the Third Avenue bus.

A more plausible possibility is that Hogan Schrage will make a desperate bet. There are still some men in this era who go crazy for love, and perhaps Hogan Schrage is one of them. He would rip over Shirley's bag and run toward the rear door. Shirley would scream. When people hear her voice, they think of scenes like "The Legend of the Heroic Martyrs of border towns". HoganSchlag's escape may have come to an end. The bus stopped. Police officer Patloman Wilson, who has not arrested anyone in a long time, is in charge of reporting the scene.

"What happened?"

"Officer, this guy snatched my bag."

Hoganschlager was taken to court. Of course, Shirley also had to attend the trial. They all gave their addresses. That's how Hoganschlag learned of Shirley's home.

Judge Perkins, who couldn't make a really good cup of coffee in his own house, pronounced HoganSchlag in jail for a year. Shirley bit her lip, but HoganSchlag left satisfied.

While in prison, Hogan Schrage wrote this letter to Shirley:

"Dear Miss Leicester,

"I didn't really want to grab your bag. I only do this because I am in love with you. I just want to get to know you. If you have the time, can you write me a letter too? If you are free, can you come and see me? I love you, and it makes me feel infinitely lonely here.

Your friend

Hogenschlag"

Shirley showed the letter to her friends, and they would all say, "Oh, Shirley, that's so cute." Shirley also admitted it was a bit cute. So maybe she'll write back. "Yes! Write back! Please, you won't lose anything! ”

So Shirley wrote back to Hogan Schrage.

"Dear Mr. Hogenschlager,

"I received your letter, and I'm so sorry for all this happening. Unfortunately, this is the end of the matter, and there is nothing we can do. I feel so sad to think about how things turned. Fortunately, the sentence is short, and you will come out soon. Good luck.

Sincerely,

Shirley. ”

"You can't imagine how happy I was when I received your letter. Don't feel sorry for me. It's my fault to make such crazy moves, so you don't have to think that way. You can watch a movie here every week, and things aren't as bad as they think. I'm 31 years old and have been coming to New York from Seattle for four years. I think New York is great, it's just that sometimes you feel lonely. Even in Seattle, I've never seen a girl as beautiful as you. I expect that on a Saturday between two and four o'clock in the afternoon, you will come to see me during visiting hours, and I am willing to pay for your tickets.

Justin Hoganschlager"

Shirley also showed the letter to his friends. But she won't write back. Everyone could tell that hoganschlag was a fool. Besides, Shirley had already replied to the first letter, and if she had replied to this somewhat stupid letter, the whole thing might have been going to go on to be that kind of penpal and then last for months or something. She had done what she could for this man. Also, Hogan Schrage, what a ghost name.

Meanwhile, despite watching a movie once a week, Hogan Schrage is still having a tough time in prison. His roommates, Morgan the "toucan" who lived in the middle, and Burke the "slicer", felt that Hogan Schrage looked a lot like the people who had betrayed them in Chicago. They firmly believed that Justin Hogenschlag was the "adulterous face" Ferrero.

"But I'm not a 'slut.'" Hogan Schrage told them both.

"Less garlic." As the slicer spoke, he flipped the only food hoganschlager had left on the ground.

"Hit him on the head!" Long-billed bird said.

"I tell you, I went to jail only because I snatched a girl's bag on the Third Avenue bus," Hoganschlag begged, "but I didn't really want to grab it." I fell in love with her, and that was the only way to get to know her. ”

"Less garlic." Slicer said.

Next, the story progresses to the day when 17 prisoners attempt to escape. While the playground was blowing, burke the "slicer" coaxed the warden's niece, nine-year-old Lisbeth Sue, to his side. He put his twelve-and-eight-wide hand on the child's waist and lifted her up for the warden to see.

"Hey, Warden!" The slicer shouted, "Open the door!" Otherwise the child will die! "

"I'm not afraid, Uncle Bot!" shouted Lisbeth Sue.

"Burke, put the child down!" The warden ordered, full of majesty.

But the slicer knew that it had caught the prison warden's weakness. Seventeen inmates and a little blond girl began to walk out of the prison gates, and the first 16 inmates and the blonde girl walked out safely. A guard standing on a tower felt that now was the best time to shoot the slicer and disrupt the entire jailbreak gang. But he hit it off, just in time for a small man who was trembling behind the slicer, deadly on the spot.

Guess who's dead?

In this way, my plan to write a slender, unforgettable love story for Collier Weekly was hindered by the death of the male protagonist.

In fact, if Shirley had not replied to the second letter, which made Hogan Schrader completely desperate and panicked, he would never have walked with the 16 outlaws. But Shirley wouldn't reply to the second letter, and that was the way it was, even after a hundred years she wouldn't have replied to that letter. I can't change the facts.

What a pity. Unfortunately, when Hoganschlag was in prison, he could not write such a letter to Shirley:

"Hopefully, a few lines of text won't bother you or embarrass you." I write this letter, Miss Lester, because I want you to know that I'm not the kind of so-called thief. I want you to know that I snatched your bag because the moment I saw you on the bus, I fell in love with you. I can't think of any other way to get to know you than impulsively, or to be precise, to do something stupid. But here's the thing, when you fall in love, you become a fool.

"I love the way your lips open. In that moment you told me the answer to everything. I came to New York four years ago and I've never been unhappy, but I've never been really happy either. I'm like thousands of young people in New York, just simply existing.

"I came to New York from Seattle. Intend to become rich, famous, well-dressed, personable. But four years later, I knew I wouldn't be rich, I wouldn't be famous, I wouldn't be well-dressed, and I wouldn't be personable. I'm a good printing assistant, but that's it. That day the lord printer was sick, and I went to take his place. But Miss Lester, I'm making a mess! No one listened to my orders. And when I told the typestenders to go to work, they just giggled. I don't blame them, I'm like a fool when I assign tasks. Maybe I'm the kind of person who never gives orders. But I don't care anymore. My boss just recruited a twenty-three-year-old. He was only twenty-three years old, and I was thirty-one years old and had been working here for four years. But I knew that one day he would be the main printer, and I would be his assistant. But I don't care anymore.

"Loving you is an important thing, Miss Lester. A lot of people think love is sex, it's marriage, it's six-morning kisses and kids, maybe so, Miss Lester. But you know what I think? I think love is a hand that wants to touch and withdraw, love is a heart that is untouched but trembling.

"I think it's important for a woman to marry a man who is rich, handsome, smart, or popular. But I'm not popular, and I'm not even hated. I...... I'm just — Justin Hoganschlag. I have never made people happy, sad, angry, or even disgusted. I think people will say I'm a good person, but that's about it.

"When I was a kid, no one said I was cute, or smart, or pretty. If they had to say something, they would say my calves were strong.

"I don't have the luxury of asking for your reply, Miss Leicester. I want your reply more than anything in the world, but seriously, I don't want that. I just want you to know the facts. If my admiration for you plunges me into any new, boundless sorrow, I am the only one to blame.

"Maybe one day you will understand and will forgive your clumsy admirer,

Such a letter is more likely to get a reply like this:

"I received a letter from you and I love it. The turn of events filled me with guilt and sorrow. If only you had spoken to me instead of taking my bag! Now, I think I'll have to change to a topic that makes you lighter.

"It's lunchtime, and I'm writing to you alone in the office. For lunch today, I want to be alone for a while. If I go to the restaurant with the girls, and then they'll be chattering all over lunch as usual, I'll probably shout.

"I don't care if you're unsuccessful, not handsome, not rich, not famous or personable. Maybe I'd care if I did. When I was in high school, I always liked guys like Joe Grammer. For example, Donald Nicholson, the boy who walked in the rain and could recite all of Shakespeare's sonnets backwards. Bob Lacey, the handsome guy who scored a goal from midfield towards the end of time. Harry Miller, shy and with beautiful, attractive brown eyes.

"But those crazy parts of my life are over.

"Those who ridicule you when you set tasks have been put on my blacklist, and I hate them as much as I have never hated anyone.

"I put on makeup when you see me. Believe me, I'm not that pretty with my makeup removed. Please tell me your visiting time. I hope you can look at the real me in a few seconds, and I hope you like the beauty of not my hypocrisy.

"Oh, how I wish you had told the judge why you snatched my bag!" So we could sit together and talk about all our similarities.

"Please remember to tell me when I can go see you."

You sincerely,

Shirley Leicester"

But Justin Hoganschlag would never have known Shirley Lester. She got off Fifty-Sixth Avenue, and he got off Thirty-second Avenue. That night, Shirley Lester went to the movie with Howard Lawrence, and she was in love with him. Howard thought Shirley was a good girl, but that was about it. And Justin Hoganschlager stayed home that night, listening to soap operas on the radio. He had been thinking about Shirley all night, all day, and he had thought of her a lot that month. Then he was suddenly introduced to Doris Hillman, a woman who had begun to worry that she might not be able to marry. Before Justin Hoganschlag realized, Doris Hillman and a lot of things had washed Shirley behind him. And the fantasies about Shirley Lester, and about her, are gone.

That's why I didn't write a "boy meets girl" story for Collier Weekly. In an encounter story, the boy must be able to meet the girl.

Translator's Epilogue:

This story was translated by me after I quit my phone, at the request of a friend, and spent some time before going to bed every day, and it was also my first translation in a long time. The level must be rough. There are already good translations on the Internet. I will continue to revise it in the future.

I hope you know: the places you like are because the original author wrote well, and the places you don't like are because my level is too poor. So if you can, I'm sure you'll go and see the original.

"Love is a touch and yet not a touch", I borrowed from an earlier translation on the Internet, "Love is to touch and withdraw the hand", which is also the only comment I refer to others. Before I tried to translate, I saw someone discussing the translation, so the phrase lingered in my mind. But I also felt that this translation was not perfect, so I added my understanding: "Love is an untouched but trembling heart." ”

Salinger is my favorite writer, and after publishing three books, he lived in a place away from the hustle and bustle and refused to publish all his work after that. I wanted to translate his work in my immature language, but also to disturb him.

I am sorry.

Author: Holy Dog

Link: https://www.jianshu.com/p/59283ed83ba5

Source: Jian Shu

Copyright belongs to the author. For commercial reproduction, please contact the author for authorization, and for non-commercial reproduction, please indicate the source.