名著阅读

　　"Good God." He backed out the door onto the porch. "What kind of evil you got in here?""It's not evil, just sad. Come on. Just step through."He looked at her then, closely. Closer than he had when she first rounded the house on wet andshining legs, holding her shoes and stockings up in one hand, her skirts in the other. Halle's girl —the one with iron eyes and backbone to match. He had never seen her hair in Kentucky. Andthough her face was eighteen years older than when last he saw her, it was softer now. Because ofthe hair. A face too still for comfort; irises the same color as her skin, which, in that still face, usedto make him think of a mask with mercifully punched out eyes. Halle's woman. Pregnant everyyear including the year she sat by the fire telling him she was going to run. Her three children shehad already packed into a wagonload of others in a caravan of Negroes crossing the river. Theywere to be left with Halle's mother near Cincinnati. Even in that tiny shack, leaning so close to thefire you could smell the heat in her dress, her eyes did not pick up a flicker of light. They were liketwo wells into which he had trouble gazing. Even punched out they needed to be covered, lidded,marked with some sign to warn folks of what that emptiness held. So he looked instead at the firewhile she told him, because her husband was not there for the telling. Mr. Garner was dead and hiswife had a lump in her neck the size of a sweet potato and unable to speak to anyone. She leanedas close to the fire as her pregnant belly allowed and told him, Paul D, the last of the Sweet Homemen. There had been six of them who belonged to the farm, Sethe the only female. Mrs. Garner,crying like a baby, had sold his brother to pay off the debts that surfaced the minute she waswidowed. Then schoolteacher arrived to put things in order. But what he did broke three moreSweet Home men and punched the glittering iron out of Sethe's eyes, leaving two open wells thatdid not reflect firelight.

　　Now the iron was back but the face, softened by hair, made him trust her enough to step inside herdoor smack into a pool of pulsing red light.

　　She was right. It was sad. Walking through it, a wave of grief soaked him so thoroughly he wantedto cry. It seemed a long way to the normal light surrounding the table, but he made it — dry-eyed and lucky.

　　"You said she died soft. Soft as cream," he reminded her.

　　"That's not Baby Suggs," she said.

　　"Who then?""My daughter. The one I sent ahead with the boys.""She didn't live?""No. The one I was carrying when I run away is all I got left.

　　Boys gone too. Both of em walked off just before Baby Suggs died."Paul D looked at the spot where the grief had soaked him. The red was gone but a kind of weepingclung to the air where it had been.

　　Probably best, he thought. If a Negro got legs he ought to use them. Sit down too long, somebodywill figure out a way to tie them up. Still ... if her boys were gone ...

　　"No man? You here by yourself?""Me and Denver," she said.
"我的上帝啊。"他退出门，直退到门廊，"你这儿的邪恶是哪一种？" "它不邪恶，只是悲伤。来吧。走过来。" 这时，他开始仔细地端详她。比刚才她一手提着鞋袜、一手提着裙子，两腿湿淋淋亮晶晶地从房后绕出来的时候端详得更仔细。黑尔的姑娘——铁的眼睛，铁的脊梁。在肯塔基他从来没见过她的头发。她的脸尽管比上次见时多经了十八年风雨，现在却更柔和了。是因为头发。一张平静得毋须抚慰的脸；那张平静的脸上与她皮肤同色的虹膜，让他不时想起一副仁慈的挖空了眼睛的面具。黑尔的女人。年年怀孕，包括她坐在炉火旁告诉他她要逃走的那一年。她的三个孩子已经被她塞进别人的大车，随着一车队的黑人过了河。他们将留在辛辛那提附近黑尔的母亲那里。在那间小木屋里，尽管靠火这样近，你甚至能闻到她裙子里的热气，她的眼里还是没有映出一丝光芒。它们就像两口深井，让他不敢凝视。即使毁掉了，它们仍需要盖上，遮住，标上记号，警告人们提防那空虚所包含的一切。所以她开口的时候他就把目光投向火，因为她的丈夫不在那里听她诉说。加纳先生死了，他的太太脖子上又长了一个甘薯那么大的包，不能讲话。她挺着大肚子，尽量靠近火堆，倾诉给他，保罗·D，最后一个"甜蜜之家"的男人。农庄上的奴隶一共有六个，塞丝是他们中唯一的女性。加纳太太哭得像个孩子似的卖掉了保罗·D的哥哥，以偿还刚一守寡就欠下的债务。然后"学校老师"来到，收拾这副烂摊子。但是他的所作所为就是再毁掉三个"甜蜜之家"的男人，抠掉塞丝眼中的闪亮的铁，只留下两口不反射火光的深井。

现在铁又回来了，可是有了那张因头发而柔和的脸，他就能够信任她，迈进她的门，跌入一片颤动的红光。

她说得对。是悲伤。走过红光的时候，一道悲伤的浪头如此彻底地浸透了他，让他想失声痛哭。桌子周围平常的光亮显得那么遥远；然而，他走过去了——没有流泪，很幸运。

"你说她死得很轻柔。轻柔得像奶油似的。"他提醒她。

"那不是贝比·萨格斯。"她说。

"那是谁呢？" "我的女儿。跟两个男孩一起先送走的那个。" "她没活下来？" "没有。我现在就剩下逃跑时怀的那个了。

儿子也都走了。他们俩正好是在贝比·萨格斯去世之前出走的。" 保罗·D看着那个用悲伤浸透他的地方。红光消散了，可是一种啜泣的声音还滞留在空气里。

也许这样最好，他想。一个黑人长了两条腿就该用。坐下来的时间太长了，就会有人想方设法拴住它们。不过……如果她的儿子们走了……

"没有男人？就你自己在这儿？" "我和丹芙。"她说。
背景阅读

本书简介：

《宠儿》是托妮·莫里森最震撼人心、最成熟的代表作，现已经成为当代文学史上不朽的经典，也是美国文学史上最畅销的作品之一。小说完成于1987年，1988年即获得美国普利策小说奖。2006年《纽约时报》召集125位知名作家、评论家、编辑及文坛泰斗等选出自己心目中“25年来最佳美国小说”，《宠儿》得票最高，名列第一。

“你的爱太浓了！”——一个不可能重复的故事！！！
女黑奴塞丝怀着身孕只身从肯塔基的奴隶庄园逃到俄亥俄，奴隶主循踪追至；为了使儿女不再重复自己做奴隶的悲惨命运，她毅然杀死了自己刚刚会爬的幼女宠儿……十八年后宠儿还魂重返人间，和塞丝、塞丝的女儿丹芙以及塞丝的情人保罗•D生活在同一幢房子里。她不但加倍地向母亲索取着爱，甚至纠缠和引诱保罗•D，不择手段地扰乱和摧毁母亲刚刚回暖的生活……全书充满苦涩的诗意和紧张的悬念。

作者简介：

托妮·莫里森，美国当代最重要的女作家之一。1931年生于美国俄亥俄州，曾担任兰登书屋编辑、资深编辑，1989年起任普林斯顿大学教授。主要代表作有《最蓝的眼睛》、《秀拉》、《所罗门之歌》、《宠儿》、《爵士乐》、《天堂》等，曾获美国普利策小说奖、美国图书评论协会奖等多项大奖。1993年获诺贝尔文学奖，是历史上得此殊荣的唯一黑人女作家。