雙語(yǔ)名著·追風(fēng)箏的人 The Kite Runner(217)

12歲的阿富汗富家少爺阿米爾與仆人哈桑情同手足。然而，在一場(chǎng)風(fēng)箏比賽后，發(fā)生了一件悲慘不堪的事，阿米爾為自己的懦弱感到自責(zé)和痛苦，逼走了哈桑，不久，自己也跟隨父親逃往美國(guó)。

成年后的阿米爾始終無(wú)法原諒自己當(dāng)年對(duì)哈桑的背叛。為了贖罪，阿米爾再度踏上暌違二十多年的故鄉(xiāng)，希望能為不幸的好友盡最后一點(diǎn)心力，卻發(fā)現(xiàn)一個(gè)驚天謊言，兒時(shí)的噩夢(mèng)再度重演，阿米爾該如何抉擇?

故事如此殘忍而又美麗，作者以溫暖細(xì)膩的筆法勾勒人性的本質(zhì)與救贖，讀來(lái)令人蕩氣回腸。

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"While you’re busy knitting sweaters, my dear, I have to deal with the community’s perception of our family. People will ask. They will want to know why there is a Hazara boy living with our daughter. What do I tell them?”
Soraya dropped her spoon. Turned on her father. “You can tell them--”
“It’s okay, Soraya,” I said, taking her hand. “It’s okay. General Sahib is quite right. People will ask.”
“Amir--” she began.
“It’s all right.” I turned to the general. “You see, General Sahib, my father slept with his servant’s wife. She bore him a son named Hassan. Hassan is dead now. That boy sleeping on the couch is Hassan’s son. He’s my nephew. That’s what you tell people when they ask.”
They were all staring at me.
“And one more thing, General Sahib,” I said. “You will never again refer to him as ‘Hazara boy’ in my presence. He has a name and it’s Sohrab.”
No one said anything for the remainder of the meal.
IT WOULD BE ERRONEOUS to say Sohrab was quiet. Quiet is peace. Tranquillity. Quiet is turning down the VOLUME knob on life.Silence is pushing the OFF button. Shutting it down. All of it.Sohrab’s silence wasn’t the self-imposed silence of those with convictions, of protesters who seek to speak their cause by not speaking at all. It was the silence of one who has taken cover in a dark place, curled up all the edges and tucked them under.He didn’t so much live with us as occupy space. And precious little of it. Sometimes, at the market, or in the park, I’d notice how other people hardly seemed to even see him, like he wasn’t there at all. I’d look up from a book and realize Sohrab had entered the room, had sat across from me, and I hadn’t noticed. He walked like he was afraid to leave behind footprints. He moved as if not to stir the air around him. Mostly, he slept.

Soon after the attacks, America bombed Afghanistan, the Northern Alliance moved in, and the Taliban scurried like rats into the caves.
Suddenly, people were standing in grocery store lines and talking about the cities of my childhood, Kandahar, Herat, Mazar-i-Sharif. When I was very little, Baba took Hassan and me to Kunduz. Hamid Karzai’s caracul hat and green chapan became famous.
Sohrab sleepwalked through it all.

“你在忙著編織毛衣的時(shí)候，親愛(ài)的，我不得不應(yīng)付鄰居對(duì)我們家的看法。人們會(huì)有疑問(wèn)。他們會(huì)想知道為什么有個(gè)哈扎拉男孩住在我女兒家。我怎么跟他們說(shuō)？”
索拉雅放下她的調(diào)羹，轉(zhuǎn)向她父親，“你可以告訴他們……”
“沒(méi)什么，索拉雅。”我說(shuō)，拉起她的手，“沒(méi)什么，將軍說(shuō)得沒(méi)錯(cuò)，人們會(huì)有疑問(wèn)?！?br />“阿米爾……”她說(shuō)。
“沒(méi)關(guān)系，”我轉(zhuǎn)向?qū)④?，“你知道嗎，將軍大人，我爸爸睡了他仆人的老婆。她給他生了個(gè)兒子，名字叫做哈?！，F(xiàn)在哈桑死掉了，睡在沙發(fā)上那個(gè)男孩是哈桑的兒子。他是我的侄兒。要是有人發(fā)問(wèn)，你可以這樣告訴我?！?br />他們?nèi)嫉芍摇?br />“還有，將軍大人，”我說(shuō)，“以后我在場(chǎng)的時(shí)候，請(qǐng)你永遠(yuǎn)不要叫他‘哈扎拉男孩 ’。他有名字，他的名字叫索拉博?！?br />大家默默吃完那頓飯。
如果說(shuō)索拉博很安靜是錯(cuò)誤的。安靜是祥和，是平靜，是降下生命音量的旋鈕。沉默是把那個(gè)按鈕關(guān)掉，把它旋下，全部旋掉。索拉博的沉默既不是來(lái)自洞明世事之后的泰然自若，也并非由于他選擇了默默不語(yǔ)來(lái)秉持自己的信念和表達(dá)抗議，而是對(duì)生活曾有過(guò)的黑暗忍氣吞聲地照單全收。他身在曹營(yíng)心在漢，人跟我們共同生活，而心跟我們一起的時(shí)候少得可憐。有時(shí)候，在市場(chǎng)或者公園里面，我注意到人們仿佛甚至沒(méi)有看到他，似乎他根本并不存在。我曾經(jīng)從書(shū)本抬頭，發(fā)現(xiàn)索拉博業(yè)已走進(jìn)房間，坐在我對(duì)面，而我毫無(wú)察覺(jué)。他走路的樣子似乎害怕留下腳印，移動(dòng)的時(shí)候似乎不想攪起周圍的空氣。多數(shù)時(shí)候，他選擇了睡覺(jué)。
美國(guó)轟炸了阿富汗，北方聯(lián)盟乘機(jī)而進(jìn)，塔利班像老鼠逃回洞穴那樣四處亡命。
突然間，人們?cè)陔s貨店排隊(duì)等待收銀，談著我童年生活過(guò)的那些城市：坎大哈、赫拉特、馬扎里沙里夫。阿富汗人的羊皮帽和綠色長(zhǎng)袍變得眾所周知。
索拉博依然夢(mèng)游般地度過(guò)這段日子。