平静表面下的情感激流—短篇小说《初秋》赏析

　　《初秋》(Early Autumn)是美国黑人作家兰斯顿•休斯一篇脍炙人口的短篇小说。作者以朴素而高超的写作手法，通过短短的445个词，一气呵成，向我们展示了一幅平静而又波澜壮阔的感情画面，读来回味无穷，心情久久不得平静。

　　要想平静而深刻地理解和接受作者那种“无动于衷”的纯记述口吻，就需要对文学创作中的“自然主义”写作方法有个大概的了解。自然主义文学的基调是记实性的，自然主义作家有意采用明白通俗、朴素无华的日常语言，堆积起大量琐碎的细节，从而准确地再现社会生活的面貌、特征，乃至时代气息，而在这种记实性的外观之下，则潜伏着一股浓厚的悲观情绪。在自然主义作家的小说中，生活画面是悲惨的，令人沮丧的。人物总是漫无目的地四处漂荡，总是失败，或陷于受压迫的苦境而不能自拔。《初秋》呈现的就是这样一种听凭命运摆布的哀怨情景。故事以一对昔日的恋人若干年后不期而遇这一生活琐事为题材，通过两人极为普通的日常对话，辅以一定的情景衬托，生动而细腻地显现了两种截然不同的心态，尤其是女主人公Mary那起伏跌宕的感情波澜。下面就请欣赏这篇旷世佳作。

Early Autumn

　　When Bill was very young, they had been in love. Many nights they had spent walking, talking together. Then something not very important had come between them, and they didn’t speak. Impulsively, she had married a man she thought she loved. Bill went away, bitter about women.

　　Yesterday, walking across Washington Square, she saw him for the first time in years.

　　“Bill Walker,” she said.

　　He stopped. At first he did not recognize her, to him she looked so old.

　　“Mary! Where did you come from?”

　　Unconsciously, she lifted her face as though wanting a kiss, but he held out his hand. She took it.

　　“I live in New York now,” she said.

　　“Oh,—Smiling politely, then a little frown came quickly between his eyes.

　　“Always wondered what happened to you, Bill.”

　　“I’m a lawyer. Nice firm, way downtown.”

　　“Married yet?”

　　“Sure. Two kids.”

　　“Oh,” she said.

　　A great many people went past them through the park. People they didn’t know. It was late afternoon. Nearly sunset. Cold.

　　“And your husband?” he asked her.

　　“We have three children. I work in the bursar’s office at Columbia.”

　　“You are looking very…” (he wanted to say old) “…well,” he said.

　　She understood. Under the trees in Washington Square, she found herself desperately reaching back into the past. She had been older than he then in Ohio. Now she was not young at all. Bill was still young.

　　“We live on Central Park West,” she said. “Come and see us sometime.”

　　“Sure,” he replied. “You and your husband must have dinner with my family some night. Any night. Lucille and I’d love to have you.”

　　The leaves fell slowly from the tree in the Square. Fell without wind. Autumn dusk. She felt a little sick.

　　“We’d love it,” she answered.

　　“You ought to see my kids.” He grinned.

　　Suddenly the lights came on up the whole length of Fifth Avenue, chains of misty brilliance in the blue air.

　　“There’s my bus,” she said.

　　He held out his hand. “Goodbye.”

　　“When…”, she wanted to say, but the bus was ready to pull off. The lights on the avenue blurred, twinkled, blurred. And she was afraid to open her mouth as she entered the bus. Afraid it would be impossible to utter a word.

　　Suddenly she shrieked very loudly, “Good-bye!” But the bus door had closed.

　　The bus started. People came between them outside, people crossing the street, people they didn’t know. Space and people. She lost sight of Bill. Then she remembered she had forgotten to give him her address—or to ask him for his—or tell him that her youngest boy was named Bill, too.

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