Excerpt: Jan. 17, 2014: 錢鍾書《圍城》

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突然一陣好強烈的悲傷襲來。而我，不打算跟任何人說。

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『柔嘉走了，可是這房裡還留下她的怒容、她的哭聲、她的說話，在空氣裡沒有消失。他望見桌上一張片子，走近一看，是陸太太的。忽然怒起，撕為粉碎，狠聲道：「好，你倒自由得很，撇下我就走！滾你媽的蛋，替我滾，你們全替我滾！」這簡短一怒把餘勁都使盡了，軟弱得要傻哭個不停。和衣倒在床上，覺得房屋旋轉，想不得了！萬萬生不得病！明天要去找那位經理，說妥了再籌旅費，舊曆年可以在重慶過。心裡又生希望，像濕柴雖點不著火，而開始冒煙，似乎一切會有辦法。不知不覺中黑地昏天合攏、裹緊，像滅盡燈火的夜，他睡著了。最初睡得脆薄，饑餓像鑷子要鑷破他的昏迷，他潛意識擋住它。漸漸這鑷子鬆了、鈍了，他的睡也堅實得鑷不破了，沒有夢，沒有感覺，人生最原始的睡，同時也是死的樣品。』

－錢鍾書《圍城》

老屋記憶（紐約客好文分享）

Image via http://markkeathley.com/node/99

和大家分享一篇Henry Allen 在 The New Yorker 的一篇文章。老房子之於老一輩的家人而言，是兒時的單純、青壯年時期的莽撞、和年老時期的哀默。老房子出售後，記憶的傳承將由另一個家庭接手，可他們的下一代、下下一代，將不會記得數十年前發生在這房子內的種種瑣碎。就算能守住家傳的老屋，誰又能保證一百年後的兒孫曾孫能仔細記得關於祖先與老屋的輝煌過往？
輝煌的只能是當下，時間久了就只能是歷史的蒼涼了。如同文末作者如是說：

「Now I am the oldest member of the family. I have lived my life in the exile of bohemia and journalism. After claiming some casualties, the family disease is finally in remission—I haven’t had a drink for more than twenty years. There are great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren with newfound energy and delight in life—from a law partner, a school principal, and a ski champion to a four-year-old in a tutu on Halloween. This chronicle may mean little to them; history stops at your grandparents. And when my sister and I die, along with a few cousins, there will be no one to remember our 407, no one to honor its tutelary deities, which is to say that there will be no 407 at all by our lights, just an old house in an exhausted city in New Jersey.」


DECEMBER 30, 2013
AT 407: MY GRANDFATHER’S HOUSE AND A LOST ERA
POSTED BY HENRY ALLEN
http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/culture/2013/12/my-grandfathers-house-and-a-vanished-era.html