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109楼
发表于 2013-6-30 16:55
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有比较才有意义。Wang Dan(也许是王丹)同学写的英文优美动人,用词精确,比喻奇特(the wind crisp and as sharp as a New England Puritan),远远超过钱钟书写的英文。
The Education of Memory
Wang Dan (Harvard University, formerly at Beijing University)
"The Education of Memory," an obscure book long-forgotten by the collective readership, is a personal favorite of the formidable Professor Jones, who on the first school day surveyed the whole class with one naked eye and the other hidden behind a cloudy monocle, and declared, "Whoever does not like this book should be shot immediately!"
By "formidable" I mean Prof. Jones towers far above his fellow academics in his learning and scholarship, whose reputation one day even reached a secluded, wealthy widow in New York who owned half of Manhattan. The ever nice, still young lady consulted with her conscience and then her lawyers, and decided to endow Jones with a professorship in her name, thus enhancing his fame and ensuring her own immortality. "Keep up with the Joneses," intoned she, most memorably.
So you can imagine in what fear mixed with awe we all hurried after class to the largest used bookstore, a permanent fixture near campus. The owner, a faded old lady in her 60's I guess, was in ecstasy, so ecstatic she doubled the book's price without prior notice. Having forked out $10, I ran back to the library to be educated by "The Education of Memory," with the prospect of a possible execution looming large outside - the autumn leaves yellowed with the mature sun, the wind crisp and as sharp as a New England Puritan, a twilight bell from the church tolling to remind the faithful of the vespers soon begun.
But the book was delightful! This I found out after having read the first page, and I continued with increasing excitement. A ghost-like librarian appeared from nowhere, gently admonishing me to be considerate toward the other patrons. I waved him away, and so did the book‘s author, one Nicholas Slonim. Together we haunted his childhood, explored his hometown, met (I for the first time, he having lost count) his playmates, and saw, to our great astonishment, the budding of his youth within the short space of mere 50 pages. There I parted with him, promising to return and step the legend of his youth into the noon.
I kept my promise and, a week later, found myself being confronted in the class with a life-and-death question posed by Prof. Jones, "Well, Young Gentleman, how do you like the book?" With a blushing face and trembling lips that always indicate the truth is being told, I offered, "Yes, Sir, I like it very much." "Really? Then tell the class a story from your memory, in the book's fashion if you indeed like it and are educated by it," ordered the Professor.
I nearly panicked for my oral English was shaky at best. My memory took advantage of this and deserted me, leaving me alone with the hushed classmates and the stern Professor. Then I was alone. A minute passed, as solemn as an eternity. At length I collected myself into a presentable shape, and grabbed a piece of memory that had tiptoed back to see how I was doing. "This is a story I want to tell from my own memory," I began. "Years ago when I was in Beijing I knew a boy who was about to die at one midnight while he was in ..."
"Stop!" roared the Professor, puzzling me. "Please stop at here. You would ruin a great memory if you didn't."
The link: http://lugusun.weebly.com/3/post/2011/03/29.html |
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