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2009/10/31

Tsien Revisited

钱学森的故事令我着迷。生于辛亥革命后两个月零一天的他,把科学生命中最好的二十年(24岁到44岁)和全部的研究资料留在了美国。回中国后再也未踏上彼邦,哪怕是受到美方的反复邀请和中共领导的劝说。他是这个世界上为数不多的曾经受到麦卡锡主义迫害和文化革命迫害的人。

在中国的时候,我对他的了解仅限于每年春节时领导去看望他时出现的那几个程式化的镜头。那些千篇一律的表彰其科学成就和卓越贡献的文字令我厌倦,令我完全没有去了解这个人的愿望。但是今天读到的两篇文章让我对他产生了巨大的兴趣。

第一篇A Dragon in Winter介绍了华裔作家张纯如(1968-2004)的钱学森传记“Thread of the Silkworm”, (《蚕丝》,1995)。张纯如本身是另一个充满传奇色彩的人物,一生写了三本书,钱学森传是第一本。第二本,也是她的代表作,The Rape of Nanking出版于1997年。2003年出版了第三本书,《美国的华人》。

另一篇发表于2002年的《加州理工新闻》,前一半是一个引子──杂志编辑撰写的背景综述,扼要回顾了钱学森的一生;主体部分是加州理工学院教授、钱学森的好朋友Frank Marble教授的回忆。加州理工学院在1979年授予钱学森“杰出校友奖”,钱学森没有赴美领奖。二十二年后的2001年,Marble教授亲自到北京把奖带给钱老。

Marble教授回忆的很多细节体现了钱学森作为普通人的一面。我很好奇的是,在美国最后五年的软禁究竟给他的思想带来了多大的变化?客观地说麦卡锡主义的迫害和文化革命相比是文明太多了,为什么他在生命的后五十年似乎始终对那段经历耿耿于怀而不愿回美国?是情感的真实流露还是策略的考量?为什么他的美国老友在隔绝几十年重新联系上之后会感到“scared” ["By the 1980s and 1990s his former students and even his closest friends were scared of him because of his loyalty to the Communist Party."--A Dragon in Winter]? 除了作为一个天才、一个杰出的学者和一个爱国者之外,钱学森到底是一个什么样的人?

我想张纯如的传记应该能回答上面这几个问题,以后有机会要读一读。

我大学的宿舍楼,东风五楼,就是以钱学森领导研制的导弹命名的。愿逝者安息。

Tsien Revisited (Caltech News, Vol. 36, No. 1, 2002)

First he was accused, then detained, then deported. Any of this sound familiar?

But there was a twist to this tale. A Caltech professor talks about his long friendship with the Caltech-trained scientist who became the “father of Chinese rocketry."

This past December, Frank Marble, PhD ’48, and his wife, Ora Lee, went to China to visit and help honor their longtime friend Tsien Hsue-Shen, PhD ’39. Many Caltechers, along with Americans who lived through the Red Scare days of the ’50s, have at least a glancing familiarity with Tsien’s story: a brilliant student and later colleague of aerospace pioneer Theodore von Kármán, commended by the U.S. Air Force for his contributions to its technological development after World War II, the Chinese-born scientist was accused of harboring Communist sympathies and stripped of his security clearance in 1950. Tsien and those who knew him best said that the allegations were nonsense, and no evidence ever came to light to substantiate them. Despite that, and over a barrage of protests from colleagues in academia, government, and industry, the INS placed him under a delayed deportation order, and for the next five years he and family lived under U.S. government surveillance and partial house arrest. In September 1955 they were permitted to leave for China.

Received with open arms in his homeland, Tsien resumed his research, founded the Institute of Mechanics, and, as one of the world’s leading authorities in aeronautics, went on to become the “father” of China’s missile program, a trusted member of the government and Party’s inner circle, and the nation’s “most honored scientist.”

Early in the INS saga, Tsien and his wife had planned to visit China so that their parents could meet their American-born grandchildren for the first time. But the INS impounded his luggage and charged him with concealing classified documents—the most “secret” of which, suspected of containing security codes, turned out upon inspection to be a table of logarithms. In the meantime the FBI had decided that Tsien posed a security risk and imprisoned him in San Pedro; he was freed two weeks later after Caltech president Lee DuBridge, among others, flew to Washington to intervene on his behalf. These incidents undoubtedly helped Tsien to conclude, as he confided to friends, that he had become “an unwelcome guest” in the country in which he had spent his whole scientific life. In any case, he was determined to avoid such problems again, and when he sailed to China, he deliberately left all of his research notes and papers behind.

Among the handful of people who saw the Tsien family off in 1955 were Frank and Ora Lee Marble. Marble and Tsien had struck up a warm friendship as aeronautics colleagues, and the Tsien family had stayed at the Marbles’ Pasadena home during their final weeks in the United States. After Tsien’s departure, he and Marble corresponded intermittently; then, with the onset of the Cultural Revolution in China, Marble stopped hearing from him. In 1979 Caltech named Tsien a recipient of the Distinguished Alumni Award in recognition of his pioneering work in rocket science, but Tsien, although he sent a gracious acknowledgment, did not come to campus to collect it.

Time passes. In 1981, Frank and Ora Lee received an invitation from the Chinese Academy of Sciences to come to Beijing and teach combustion technology and English, respectively, at the Academy’s newly established Graduate School of Science and Technology, a small research institute partly modeled on Caltech. Shortly afterward, the Marble and Tsien families were reunited for the first time in 25 years. Marble recalls his feelings before they met. “We had had very different experiences and lived in such different circumstances. Would our old, easygoing friendship and discussions resume? Or was that something that just wasn’t going to happen?” After half an hour, he says, he had his answer. “There was no obstacle.”

The two families kept in touch after that and saw each other again in China in 1991. In the years since Tsien had returned to China, Marble had taken on the project of collecting and organizing the extensive research notes—two large file cabinets worth, it turned out—that Tsien had left at Caltech. Tsien repeatedly said he did not want them back, telling Marble at their 1981 reunion, “Frank, American students need them much more than Chinese students.” A decade or so ago, however, he had a change of heart, and, with the help of Tsien’s colleague Cheng Che-Min, PhD ’52, Marble returned the collection to China. Some papers went to the Institute of Mechanics, founded decades earlier by Tsien, and others now form the core holdings of the Tsien Library, which the Chinese government had established at Xi’an Jiatong University, about 600 miles southwest of Beijing. The Chinese Academy of Sciences subsequently brought out selections from the collection as an elegant, coffee table-type book entitled Manuscripts of H. S. Tsien 1938–1955, whose publication coincided with the December 2001 symposium celebrating Tsien’s 90th birthday.

When Marble went to visit Tsien for that event, he went both as a friend and as the official emissary of Caltech and President Baltimore, bringing with him the Distinguished Alumni Award that the Institute had presented to Tsien in absentia 23 years ago. Tsien is now permanently confined to bed, so Marble made the formal presentation at his bedside in a ceremony that received widespread coverage in China, and at last provided a fitting coda to Tsien’s long, complicated, and never completely sundered association with Caltech.

Marble, who is Caltech’s Hayman Professor of Mechanical Engineering and Professor of Jet Propulsion, Emeritus, spoke with Caltech News editor Heidi Aspaturian about his recent trip and earlier visits with Tsien in China.

Tsien does not speak much English any more, but his family tells me that he still understands it quite well. He was thoroughly aware that I was presenting Caltech’s highest honor to him at the official request of David Baltimore, and I think he was deeply impressed with and appreciative of that.

We weren’t able to talk much during my most recent visit, but when I saw him in 1991 and again in 1996, we had some very interesting conversations. I think in general we both felt less constrained than we had during our reunion in 1981. One comment he made to me in 1991 particularly stands out: “You know, Frank, we’ve done a lot for China. People have enough food. They’re working and progress is being made. But Frank, they’re not happy.” He felt very bad about that—almost, I think, a little bit responsible for it, although it was not an area he was involved in at all. His area of activity was military and civilian rocketry, and this was strictly a personal observation. That was about as far as he ever went in saying that things were not ideal.

He obviously has good memories of Caltech. He speaks of the Institute most fondly, and I think that he feels that his time on campus was one of the most enjoyable of his life. In a letter that his wife, Tsiang Ying [蒋英], wrote us after our recent visit, she said that Tsien still loves to reminisce about Theodore von Kármán and the wonderful times he had at Caltech and to tell the old von Kármán jokes. So I think he stills feels very emotionally tied to the Institute. But it’s important to remember that during the entire five-year episode with the INS, Caltech was very good to him. The Institute continued to honor his professorship and to respect his reputation. My understanding is that Lee DuBridge, who vigorously supported Tsien, had difficulties with the Board of Trustees, some of whose members were embarrassed by Tsien’s situation.

Once Tsien returned to China, I don’t think he ever made another trip West. He did travel once to the Soviet Union. Evidently he did not endear himself to his hosts, and he never went back. Otherwise, so far as I know, he did not leave China. I would guess that this was largely by choice—he never was a great one for traveling. I think that he felt he had so many things to do at home that he had no real desire to go elsewhere.

Tsien never spoke to me about how his life and scientific career in America had ended. He was not a person for looking back or for ruminating about how things might have been. He was very much a realist, and my feeling is that he just tuned those last five years in America out. I do know that he felt, at least when all this started, that he would be able to do better work in the United States than he would initially in China, where research conditions at the time were very primitive. I believe that once he returned to China, what he found there was pretty much what he had expected. But he did have very able people working with him. Many of them had studied in the United States, and they were devoted to him. I met a few of those who had worked with him in the early days, and they had the highest praise for the way he had laid out and directed the program for rocketry development. I think that Tsien also had the great personal advantage of being technically and scientifically on top of things, and he also had the ear of the government. By virtue of his expertise and reputation he could convince officials of what needed to be done and accomplish things that other people couldn’t.

He did not talk about his experiences during that era. We were both very careful to avoid discussion about anything that touched on sensitive issues. We would talk about every other subject—family, music, literature, and some scientific work that was mutually interesting. He was very enthusiastic and intrigued about some of the work I was doing on combustion processes in vortex flows and told me, “Frank, you have been more honest to von Kármán than I have.” What he meant was that I was still involved in the fundamental research areas that von Kármán had worked in, but that he was now in a very different mode of operation.

Tsien, of course, became a high-ranking, trusted Party official, but it was evident that he had had trouble during the Cultural Revolution. I heard from his colleagues, but never directly from him, that like many leading scientists and intellectuals, he wrote one or two letters of “confession.” Ying, his wife, had a very interesting experience. She was head of the Western Vocal Music Department at the Beijing Conservatory, and commuted between work and home on a motorbike. Apparently the Red Guard was after her in some way and so for several months—maybe as long as a year—she just lived at the conservatory until she thought it was safe to go out again. Her students brought her food and other necessities.

I also spoke to one of Tsien’s close colleagues, Ch’ien Wei-Zhang [钱伟长]. He had earned his doctorate in Canada, was a postdoc at Caltech, and had worked with Tsien at JPL. He also went back to China and pursued a very productive career there. During the Cultural Revolution, the Red Guard accused him of all sorts of things, and he wound up spending some time in the countryside, stoking an open-hearth furnace for a time at a steel-manufacturing facility. He had a very difficult time of it. So both Tsien’s family and his research circle were affected, although Tsien himself does not talk about that period beyond referring to it as “the 10 lost years.”

Many people have said that during his last years in Pasadena Tsien was bitter. I never sensed that. He was no doubt hurt, but I never saw him brooding about it. It was something that had happened, and, as he saw it, he had to react in a way that was appropriate. When he felt he was no longer welcome, he resigned from all the technical societies and sometimes his letters were a bit curt. That was about the extent of it. Apart from the first six months between the cancellation of his security clearance and the INS hearing, he and his family more or less went on with their lives as usual. Their circle of acquaintances and friends did narrow, which must have been hard. A lot of his former colleagues had become a bit afraid of associating with him socially.

His children were both born here, and they have spent time in the United States as adults. His son [钱永刚,1948年生] did graduate work at Caltech [1988年获加州理工大学计算机硕士]. His daughter  [钱永真,1949年生] studied medicine on the East Coast [这个有点奇怪,在其他地方看到钱永真“从事音乐教育”,这和医学差了十万八千里,可能是Marble教授记错了?不过钱永真是美籍,要读MD倒确实没有国籍和绿卡的问题] and has had quite a successful practice there, but she recently decided she would return to China this summer. Each of them now has a little boy. One of the tenderest pictures I have of Tsien shows him sitting in the backseat of his chauffeur-driven car with one arm around each little four-year-old grandson.

I do think that after his problems with the INS, Tsien lost faith in the American government, but I believe that he has always had very warm feelings for the American people. That came through again and again in the public statements he made, both here during the INS hearings, and after he returned to China. But once he went back to China, I don’t think he wanted ever to deal with the United States in an official capacity again. When Caltech’s former president Harold Brown visited China as secretary of defense in 1980, Tsien avoided seeing him. When I saw him the next year, I said, “Tsien, you made a big error. Harold Brown is a great admirer of yours and a brilliant guy.” And he said, “I know. It was a mistake on my part.” But that is how he felt about it.

Looking back, I think the most remarkable aspect of the five years he was detained is the resilience with which he returned to his teaching and research, making this period one of his most productive and innovative. He was instrumentally involved in the development of the Daniel and Florence Guggenheim Jet Propulsion Center, Caltech’s academic focus of instruction and research in jet propulsion.

There’s always been a kind of single-mindedness about his work. He decides what is to be done and he organizes it and does it. He does not stop to think halfway through, is this really what I should be working on? And I believe he adopted the same attitude once he returned to China. He did not take time to indulge in speculation or fantasies about “what might have been.” He never indicated to me that he had. He was confronted with a new set of problems, and he devoted himself to working full time to solve them.



A life in interesting times: Tsien with Marble (right) at Los Angeles Harbor in September 1955, preparing to board ship to China.

  

This video shows Frank Marble, Professor Emeritus at Caltech, presenting the Distinguished Alumni Award to Tsien Hsue-Shen, 22 years after it was awarded to him on May 19, 1979. (Beijing, 2001)

一万米

1.

今天终于绕着中央公园跑了一整圈。

中央公园南起59街,北至110街,西邻第八大道,东接第五大道。作为一个十分规整的矩形,它面积3.4平方公里,周长6.1英里(9817米);里面那条弯弯曲曲的跑步/骑车专用道,全长6.03英里(9704米)。

曼哈顿岛一共60平方公里。始于1859年开门迎宾的中央公园,占了这个岛的百分之六。



The icon on the map is the Fordham Lincoln Center Campus.

2.

今天本来打算在家看书的,但一早阳光明媚,难得的秋日。我突然觉得该去中央公园跑步。

在公园边上住了一年,自然是常常去跑的。最常跑的一段路是三千米,也跑过几次半圈,五千米。室友倒是跑过好几次整圈,而且每次都是悄悄地去,回来后在facebook上写几段话。平时非常开朗随性的他,每次跑完万米之后写的话都很深沉。也许因为跑的时候没有别的事情可做,只能思考人生吧:)

有点感激自己下了这个决心。很多事情看起来很难,缺的只是一个决心。当你突然感到一件事非做不可,突然感到time is almost out,便是决心到了。

三点半起跑,华氏58度(摄氏14.4度,感谢CNN的大牌子),原本明媚的太阳早已收起笑脸,风有点凉,路上行人都说要下雨了。但既然已经出来了,便没有再回去的道理。跑完是四点半,仅一个小时,气温降到了华氏55度(摄氏12.8度)。汗衫和外套都湿透了,连棒球帽也湿透了。

如果不是这个突如其来的决心,我可能就真的错过了这个秋天。日子在肮脏破旧吵闹的地铁往返中蹉跎,我甚至一次都没有去过中央公园。

只有在慢跑的时候,心里才是净空的,平安喜乐的。才知道哪里需要去艺术馆──摘掉眼镜,抬眼望处,那层层迭迭的颜色,便是一幅最好的印象派。

3. 

这个周日就是一年一度的纽约马拉松了,有四万人参加。去年拍的马拉松照片还存在旧的“青青子衿”里。《纽约时报》的一篇文章The Human Body is Built for Long Distance说去年全美国共有42.5万人跑过了马拉松的终点。近年来热爱长跑的人越来越多了(受伤的人也越来越多──那篇文章归咎于那些“高科技”的鞋违背了自然规律,进而提倡“赤脚跑步”。)



The running course of the NYC Marathon covers all five boroughs of the City: Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens, Bronx, and Manhattan.

跑之前有点兴奋地给YQ打了个电话,他刚刚参加完芝加哥的马拉松,在摄氏零度的天气中跑得很high。为了这次马拉松他采用科学的方法自我训练了半年多。本来是要参加纽约马拉松的,因为报名者太多而没有抽中。他友情提醒说,一次跑太多容易受伤,中间累了就走走。

晚上回来又给匹兹堡的朋友YF打了个电话。她是我认识的另一个能跑马拉松的人,但也没能抽中纽约的马拉松。很久没联系了,听说我跑了“四分之一个马拉松”,她很是赞叹。说起我在匹兹堡的那年我们那个亲密的小圈子,现在我和MJ都不在了,未免有些唏嘘。

一万米,十公里,标准跑道的二十五圈。还记得高中时候骑车去好朋友家玩,那个村镇是离城最近的一个,12里路,爸爸妈妈都觉得我“出远门”了,要叮嘱半天。现在想来不过是6000米而已──跑跑就到了嘛。大学时锻炼一般跑5圈,当时也未料到五年后已经可以跑25圈。大概二十五岁本来就应该是身体最好的时 候吧。

But time will be out.  Carpe diem.

最后的一程恰好是马拉松最后冲刺的一段(虽然方向相反──我往南,马拉松冲刺是往北)。去年就是在这边看了马拉松的最后冲刺,然后又跟着跑完的运动员们一起从72街出去,他们有的有亲友迎接,有的跑完还是孤单一个人;第八大道封了,一直走到第九大道再向下。

场子已经基本搭好,一百多个国家的旗帜迎风飘展。运动员跑了四十多公里之后到达这里,看到自己的国旗,一定力量倍增吧。去年马拉松前的周五也跑了一次,当 时身边络绎不绝的都是穿着赞助商“ING”的衣服、两天后要参加马拉松的人在热身,让我这个慢跑爱好者无比激动。在那之前,我哪见过这么多能跑马拉松的人 呀──在我的心目中,这些人的体魄和耐力简直是太强了,都是超人。

我想我这辈子应该是不会去跑马拉松的吧。跑过才知道,一万米不过如此,一万米也实在不短。王安石说“世之奇伟、瑰怪、非常之观,常在于险远,而人之所罕至焉;故非有志者不能至也”,中央公园的一万米让我看到了世界和内心的非常之观,我很知足。



航拍中央公园(自北向南):图片上方中间最高的尖顶是帝国大厦(33街和第五大道),世贸双塔已不见,可见是911之后的作品。
2009/10/25

Great American Novel

“伟大的美国小说”──这显然是文学研究者创造出来的一个概念──是指那些最能够反映美国作为一个国家在某一特定历史时期的精神风貌和时代特征的(长篇)小说。出国之前不管是读外国小说还是看外国电影,难免有种隔岸观火的感觉,因为毕竟没有在那些环境里生活的体验。在美国的时间越久,看美国电影,特别是现实主义电影,就越觉得熟悉,越觉得身临其境。到了纽约这座几乎每个角落都被拍过的城市(overexposed but underexplored--according to a recent movie review),这种感觉就更强烈。

经过法学院一年多的学习,特别是1L下学期的宪法课之后,对美国两百多年的历史算是有了一个比较系统的掌握;加上美国比较注意对“古迹”的保存,在各地旅行时也往往能“亲历历史”,了解不少掌故。日复一日的学习和生活中,很多的历史事件变得活灵活现起来,不再是书本上的概念;很多人物也变得有血有肉,不再是冷冰冰的雕刻或画像。

在这个影视称霸媒体的年代,人们通常不太有心境和机会来读大部头小说──特别是那些几十年甚至上百年前的小说。但是,即便有时代的隔膜,那些经过沉淀的感受和细致入微的描摹依然有着让人难以抗拒的魔力。所以有一天,我突然想以自己对美国文学的浅薄了解,评一评哪些小说最称得上“伟大的美国小说”。我比较倾向于下面这十六部:

Harper Lee (1926- )
"To Kill a Mockingbird" (1960)

Joseph Heller (1923-1999)
"Catch-22" (1961)

Jack Kerouac (1922-1969)
"On the Road" (1957)

J.D. Salinger (1919- )
"The Catcher in the Rye" (1951)

John Steinbeck (1902-1968)
"The Grapes of Wrath" (1939)

Margaret Mitchell (1900-1949)
"Gone with the Wind" (1936)

Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961)
"The Sun Also Rises" (1926)

William Faulkner (1897-1962)
"The Sound and the Fury" (1929)

F. Scott Fitzgerald (1896-1940)
"The Great Gatsby" (1925)

Jack London (1876-1916)
"Martin Eden" (1909)

Theodore Dreiser (1871-1945)
"An American Tragedy" (1925)

Edith Wharton (1862-1937)
"The Age of Innocence" (1920)

Mark Twain (1835-1910)
"Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" (1884)

Harriet Beecher Stowe (1811-1896)
"Uncle Tom's Cabin" (1853)

Herman Melville (1819-1891)
"Moby-Dick" (1851)

Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864)
"The Scarlet Letter" (1850)

几点注释:

1. 我从没有系统学过文艺理论,所以这纯粹是一个外行兼读者的自娱自乐;

2. 这十六部小说都出版于1850-1961这111年间,应该说是一个比较短的历史时期。美国建国于1776年,开始的这七八十年其民族精神、特质如同其疆域一般还很不稳定,所以太早的文学作品也难有代表性的价值。而1960年代之后,电影工业蓬勃发展,技术日新月异,盈利前景可观,可能也促使很多最有才华的人弃小说而写剧本。

3. 上一次在北京是2007年的6月,参加本科四位室友的硕士毕业典礼。中间得空去了趟中关村图书大厦就买了本霍桑的《红字》。至今还记得在炎炎夏日躺在晓平好心让给我睡的上铺一边狂吹电风扇一边读《红字》──也恰好是这十六部小说中最早的一本──当然,就像我读过的其他一些长篇小说一样,至今也没有读完。

4. 本来想加上马里奥·普佐(1920-1999)的《教父》──大学时候有一天在清华紫荆公寓某楼里捡到的英文原著,装帧还比较新──装模做样地在床头陈列了若干年,博得宿舍参访者的若干青睐与赞许,其实压根儿没翻过几页──这本小说出版于1965年,如果加上将是我这个单子里最晚出版的一本小说。但它的问题在于,电影的名气大大盖过了小说,这也符合我在前面提出的猜想。我不太清楚原著的文学价值,所以没有列出。

5. 我列了德莱赛的《美国的悲剧》,主要因为这是中国的中学教科书上一般会提到的一本“有代表性”的美国小说。但我在网上搜索得出的印象是这本书在美国并不是特别重要,似乎与《麦田里的守望者》这样的作品完全不在一个重量级上(我很可能是错的,请指正)。所以我有点怀疑这本书在中国教科书上的显著地位是不是部分出于政治需要(“批判美国资本主义的腐朽性和虚伪性”);另一个可能的解释是文化差异和历史偶然:同一部西方作品在中国影响力巨大而在其发源国评价并不突出的经典例子,远有《魂断蓝桥》(Waterloo Bridge, 1940, starring Vivien Leigh),近有(可能是“子虚乌有”的)班得瑞乐团。

6. 这十六部小说中最难懂的可能是“意识流”的代表作、福克纳的《喧哗与骚动》。杜克大学法学院前院长Paul D. Carrington在其回忆性长文"Duke Law in China: A Remembrance"中,提到杜克法学院招收的第一名中国JD学生(因此也很可能是美国法学院在1949年后从中国大陆招收的第一个JD学生),缘起于他1980年12月从中国收到的一封信:

It was perhaps in December that I received a stunning letter from Shi Xi-min, then in China. To get a letter from China was itself an astounding event. No one born after 1960 can today imagine the degree of isolation of China, especially in its disconnection from America. Xi-min wanted to study law in the United States. The quality of his English was such that I was confident some American had written his letter, and he did acknowledge the help of a graduate of Wellesley College. He identified himself as a worker with the Ministry of Foreign Economic Relations and Trade, and a recent graduate of the University of International Business and Economics. But he also described his life as the son of an air force general who had himself served in the military as a helicopter pilot. And he had also been in prison twice during the Cultural Revolution. Once as his father’s son, and once on his own account. He was married to a woman who was on military duty in Tibet. All this was interesting, but what blew my mind was his claim to have translated into Mandarin two novels by William Faulkner, one of which (Absolom, Absolom) I had read and found to be absolutely incomprehensible. I much desired to meet such a person.

把这位Shi Xi-min同学从中国弄到美国在当时很难──Carrington院长甚至请了杜克法学院校友、前总统尼克松出面才打通关节。Carrington院长的这篇长文中蕴含了有关改革开放后中美早期法律交流的非常丰富而珍贵的信息,我自从一年半前读到后一直想专文推荐(可能零星地推荐过几次,记不清了)。这位Shi同学后来如何我不太清楚,不过在他之后的Carrington招的第二位JD学生高西庆,就无需我多介绍了。

7. 非常希望在有生之年把这十六部小说都读一遍──哪怕是囫囵吞枣一遍也好──好对我跟美国这段短则六年长则N年的缘分有个交待。不过根据我的习性,似乎可能性不大。不过谁知道呢,只要活得够长,什么事情都有可能发生(言下之意是,说不定我也能写出点什么来呢…haha, shameless nature at work again.)


Elle souhaitait à la fois mourir et habiter Paris.

"She wished at the same time to die and to live in Paris."

“她既想死,又想去巴黎。 ”

Elle portait une robe de chamber toute ouverte, qui laissait voir, entre les revers à châle du corsage, une chemisette plissée avec trois boutons d'or. Sa ceinture était une cordelière à gros glands, et ses petits pantoufles de couleur grenat avaient une touffe de rubans larges, qui s'étalait sur le cou-du-pied. Elle s'était acheté un buvard, une papeterie, un porte-plume et des envelopes, quoiqu'elle n'eut personne à qui écrire; elle époussetait son étagère, se regardait dans la glace, prenait un livre, puis, rêvant entre les lignes, le laissait tomber sur les genoux. Elle avait envie de faire des voyages ou de retourner vivre a son couvent. Elle souhaitait a la fois mourir et habiter Paris.

--Gustave Flaubert: Madame Bovary (1857), Partie 1, Chapitre 9

Madame was in her room upstairs. She wore an open dressing gown that showed between the shawl facings of her bodice a pleated chamisette with three gold buttons. Her belt was a corded girdle with great tassels, and her small garnet coloured slippers had a large knot of ribbon that fell over her instep. She had bought herself a blotting book, writing case, pen-holder, and envelopes, although she had no one to write to; she dusted her what-not, looked at herself in the glass, picked up a book, and then, dreaming between the lines, let it drop on her knees. She longed to travel or to go back to her convent. She wished at the same time to die and to live in Paris.

艾 瑪穿一件領子敞開的室內長袍,上身帶披肩的翻領之間,露出了打褶的襯衫,上面有三粒金紐扣。她腰間系一條有大流蘇的腰帶,腳上穿一雙石榴紅小拖鞋,還有一 束寬帶子攤開在腳背上。她自己買了吸墨紙、一支筆、信紙信封,雖然沒有通信人;她撣掉架子上的灰塵,照照鏡子,拿起一本書來,然後,心不在焉地讓書掉在膝 蓋上。她想旅行,或者回修道院。她既想死,又想去巴黎。



Contemporary writers were made uneasy by Flaubert. Henry James expressed a recurrent unease which he said was experienced by the 'alien reader' and persisted. 'Our complaint is that Emma Bovary, in spite of the nature of her consciousness and in spite of her reflecting so much that of her creator, is really too small an affair.' D.H. Lawrence, a naturally visionary and prophetic realist himself, was more vehement. Flaubert, he said, 'stood away from life as from a leprosy.' Even Proust, writing his precise and elegant defence of Flaubert, begins with a caveat. 'Ce n'est pas que j'aime entre tous les livres de Flaubert, ni même le style de Flaubert.' All these express an unease which persists in readers faced with this very great novel. But between seeing Emma Bovary as 'really too small an affair', and Flaubert's vision of life as a leprosy, and understanding that Madame Bovary, with all its realistic nineteenth-century apparatus, is the beginning of a new vision, a modern vision, is only a step. The resolution with which Flaubert polished his perfect surface, and kept it almost purely surface, not transparent, not revealing any deeper meaning than its existence, is behind the nausea of Sartre's Roquentin, and the reduced worlds of Beckett's bare survivors. Its beauty is enchanting and terrible. It shows us implacably the limitations of our habitation in our bodies, in space and time. Emma Bovary is indeed 'really too small' but there is a sense in which she is a type of everywoman. Flaubert's relentless and fastidious observation and creation of his small world is itself a form of contemplation. He shows us laughter, irony and fear. And in the end gentleness, for sad, stupid, honest Charles, and silly, greedy, unsatisfied Emma. And grief for an unconsidered accidental daughter, who comes to a sad - and probable - end.

--A.S. Byatt, Scenes from a provincial life, The Guardian, 27 July 2002.


       
2009/10/20

梁文道:我的老校長高錕

前兩篇博客分別是關于香港科技大學和香港大學的,蒙Tinglong和Ricci夫婦的推薦,最近也讀到一篇關于香港中文大學的,所以干脆討個巧,湊個“三”,也貼在這里。梁文道的原文發表在《南方周末》10月14日。

Ricci的導語:

剛讀了這篇文章,很是感動。在中國大陸的校園里呆了這么多年,我從來沒有見過這樣的校長([nickname withheld]旁白:你根本就沒見過校長!),也不知道做學生的可以這么肆無忌憚的對待一位頭頂校長光圈的人。

后來到了中大(The Chinese University of Hong Kong),耳聞目睹了一些不可思議的事情,比如在中大學生在畢業典禮上因為向董建華授予名譽博士學位而公然向劉遵義校長發難--場面也相當有意思:兩個學生,一個學生扮成董建華,另一個扮成劉遵義,后者不停地給前者擦鞋。而劉遵義當選全國政協委員時,校園里更一度掛起內地慣見的標志性紅色條幅,上書簡體中文:“热烈祝贺刘遵义同志当选全国政协”。

面對這些,校長好像還是那么不瘟不火笑呵呵的傻在哪里,任由學生惡搞,任由那紅色條幅橫掛。很長一段時間里,我一直都覺得這幫養尊處優的小孩子實在是既幼稚又無聊,而我們的校長也實在是太不陽剛,一點沒有校長的威嚴。直到有一次,偶然看到了鄧小樺的《中大異議者.無家的鬼魂-中大舊生寫在校方頒授董建華榮譽學位之後》,才知道抗議精神以及與主流不合作素來是中大的核心價值,而歷史上的中大校長都會小心翼翼地捍衛這種傳統。今天,看了梁文道的文章,不由得對高錕校長肅然起敬,更對我親愛的母校生發了一種莫名的類似遺老遺少的情愫。

我的老校長高錕

by 梁文道

我 以前從來都不覺得香港的大學有多好。你看那些學生,畢業典禮總是人人手抱一只毛毛熊,不說還以為是幼稚園結業呢。至於老師,不是不好,只不過研究多用英文 出版,而且以論文為主,書店很難見得著,不像大陸學者,著作等身的人多得是,看他們的作品一字排開擺在書店,威風得不得了。校園氣氛就更不要提了,許多大 牌學人來演講,也都只有小貓幾只去捧場;學術沙龍?那是什麼東西呀?沒聽過!

直到近幾年在大陸跑多了,見過不少名牌學府的另一面,聽過不少著名“大師”的笑話,了解到整個高等教育界的運作方式之後;我才知道,原來香港的大學也不算太差。

你 看,英國《泰晤士報》公布全球大學排行榜,香港有3家進了前50呢。可是這還不是最重要的。而我的母校──香港中文大學的前校長高錕,剛拿了今年的諾貝爾 物理學獎,這難道不是很威風嗎?但坦白講,當年我念書的時候可不以為他有這麼厲害;相反地,我們一幫學生甚至認為他只不過是個糟老頭罷了。我的一個同學是 那時學生報的編輯,趕在高錕退休之前,在報上發了一篇文章,總結他的政績,標題裡有一句“八年校長一事無成”,大家看了都拍手叫好。

不 只如此,當時高錕還接受中央政府的邀請,出任“港事顧問”,替將來的回歸大業出謀獻策。很多同學都被他的舉動激怒了,認為這是學術向政治獻媚的表 現。於是在一次大型集會上面(好像是畢業典禮),學生會發難了,他們在底下站起來,指著台上的校長大叫:“高錕可恥!”而高錕則憨憨地笑,誰也不知道他在 笑什麼。

後來,一幫更激進的同學主張打倒行之有年的“迎新營”,他們覺得那是洗腦工程,拼命向新生灌輸以母校為榮的自豪感,其實是種無 可救藥的集體主義,很要不得。就在高錕對新生發表歡迎演講的那一天,他們衝上去圍住了他,塞給他一個套上了避孕套的中大學生玩偶,意思是學生全給校方蒙成 了呆頭。現場一片嘩然,高錕卻獨自低首,饒有興味地檢視那個玩偶。

後來我們才在報紙上看清楚他的回應。當時有記者跑去追問正要離開的校 長:“校長!你會懲罰這些學生嗎?”高錕馬上停下來,回頭很不解地反問那個記 者:“懲罰?我為什麼要罰我的學生?”畢業之後,我才從當年干過學生會和學生報的老同學那裡得知,原來高錕每年都會親筆寫信給他們,感謝他們的工作。不只 如此,他怕這些熱心搞事的學生,忙得沒機會和大家一樣去打暑期工,所以每年都會自掏腰包,私下捐給這兩個組織各兩萬港幣的補助金,請他們自行分配給家境比 較困難的同學。我那位臭罵他“一事無成”的同門,正是當年的獲益者之一。今天他已經回到母校任教了,在電話裡他笑呵呵地告訴我:“我們就年年拿錢年年罵, 他就年年挨罵年年給。”

上個月,我們中大人戲稱為“殖民地大學”的香港大學也出了條新聞,他們把名譽院士的榮銜頒給了宿舍“大學堂”的 老校工“三嫂”袁蘇妹,因為“她以自 己的生命,影響了大學住宿生的生命”。這位連字都不識的82歲的老太太,不只把學生們的肚皮照顧得無微不至,還不時要充當他們的愛情顧問,在他們人生路上 遇到困難的時候,以自己的歲月澆灌他們茫然的青茅,所以一向有“大學堂三寶”之一的稱號。那一天,“三嫂”戴著神氣的院士圓帽,穿上紅黑相間的學袍,是一 眾重量級學者之間最燦爛的巨星。她一上台,底下的老校友就站起來大聲吶喊,掌聲雷動;不管他們的頭發是黑是白,不管他們現在是高官議員還是富商名流,他們 都是她的孩子。

我和高錕可就從來沒這麼親近過了。八年裡頭,我只當面對他說過一句話。那一天我們幾個同學從圖書館出來,正好見到他走在 前面,馬上揉搓成了一團紙朝 他丟過去。他一回頭,我就指著另一個同學笑著大喊:“校長,你看他居然亂丟垃圾!”總是笑得有點傻的校長一如以往,頓了一頓才反應過來,慢吞吞地說:“這 就不太好了。”我們立即笑作一團,看著他的背影漸漸遠去。

前一陣子,香港政務司司長唐英年跑到中大演講“領導的藝術”,居然大談什麼“包容是領導最重要的美德”,我聽了忍不住搖頭輕嘆:“你來我們這裡講包容?”

去 年開始,高錕得了老年痴呆症,最近記性有點衰退了。這也不是不好的,因為我希望他忘記當年我們的惡作劇,忘記我們侮辱他的種種言行。但我又是多麼多麼地盼 望他,我們的老校長,能夠記住他剛剛得到的是諾貝爾獎,記住他提出光纖構想時的喜悅,記住他和夫人一起拖著手在校園內散步的歲月,記住我們畢業之後,偶爾 在街上碰見他,笑著對他鞠躬請安“校長好”時的衷誠敬意。



香港中文大學歷任校長合影。(左起)劉遵義(現任校長)、李國章、馬臨、高錕,金耀基。

2009/10/18

玻璃之城

用了一年零一個半月的時間,看過了黎明的三部愛情片:甜蜜蜜(1996)、半生緣(1997)、玻璃之城(1998)。三位女主角各具風情:張曼玉、吳倩蓮、舒淇,三位導演也各有特色:陳可辛、許鞍華、張婉婷,不變的是黎明,一片稱職的綠葉。

上次看完《半生緣》後曾感嘆,看一部電影就像遇到一個人一樣,是要靠緣分的。至今我無法理解,為什麼在這十多年的時間裡都沒有看過這三部“著名”的電影,偏偏是來了紐約之後才有這“緣分”。也許因為到了這年紀才開始對這樣的題材感興趣;也許因為《甜蜜蜜》是關於香港和紐約這兩座城市的“雙城記”吧。

好在也不算太晚。這三部電影的確稱得上中文愛情片的翹楚,它們所觸發的感受,未嘗不是對生活中漫長的感情空白的一種填補。

《甜蜜蜜》的最後,有情人在異鄉的街頭重逢,其他的牽掛在此時也恰好了斷,電影在懷舊而甜蜜的歌聲中結束,算是一個比較完滿的結局。《半生緣》乃悲劇之正宗,張愛之絕唱。《玻璃之城》的結局應該說悲中有喜:上一輩在新年鐘聲敲響時的車禍中雙雙殞命,雖然悲慘,但至少可以在生命的最後一刻相擁離開這塵世,且省去許多糾纏不清的紛擾;而下一輩把塵埃射向高空化為煙花的霎那,手可以安心地牽在一起。

《玻璃之城》於我之所以獨特,因為它透過具有滄桑感的歷史鏡頭呈現卑微個體的悲歡離合。原先,我對香港1949-1997這段時間的了解基本局限於書本,在《玻璃之城》中才看到七十年代初期的香港大學生原來也有著那麼高漲的愛國熱情和“革命”精神,會為國家的領土主權不惜上街抗爭、坐牢挨揍。我在美國的第一任室友畢業於香港大學,但我卻是在《玻璃之城》中才第一次看到他的大學的模樣,才第一次知道Ricci Hall、何東堂這些對港大學生來說就像學九之於人大學生、四十三樓之於北大學生那樣承載著太多青春記憶的名字。

港生和韻文的愛情故事在九七年新年鐘聲敲響的倫敦街頭戛然而止,而他們的愛傳遞到兩個康橋的身上時已是九七回歸鐘聲敲響的午夜。港生和韻文重逢在回歸前五年的香港企業高管普通話培訓班上——他們的個體命運的巧合也恰是因為歷史的契機。我看的是國語版本,雖然開始會覺得有些別扭,但後來在YouTube上發現所能找到的片段都是粵語版,我才突然意識到國語版中每一個演員都用了自己的聲音。不管他們的發音還多麼不到位,不管話中還夾雜著多少英文——至少,他們在努力。

寫下這些話的時候,似乎有意無意地回避了這部電影的主題:那些最細膩的感受,最敏感又最張揚的年紀,那令人心碎的美麗,那綿延二十載的愛戀,和那些生生不息的希望。都是要親自看過電影、和主人公們一起經歷過痛苦掙扎之後才能體會的。

今生不再
         

Try to Remember
         

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When you were a tender and callow fellow.
Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow, follow

Try to remember when life was so tender
That no one wept except the willow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
That dreams were kept beside your pillow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
That love was an ember about to billow.
Try to remember, and if you remember,
Then follow, follow



玻璃之城,1998年,張婉婷導演。

2009/10/17

不知東方之既白

六月六日星期六,香港,新界,清水灣。

在香港科技大學與一位睽違已久的好友會面。我被眼前的山水驚呆——這樣的美景,竟把面朝舊金山海灣的伯克萊校園比了下去。午飯時,忘了因為什么由頭,他背起了《前赤壁賦》,從“壬戌之秋”,到“不知東方之既白”,一氣呵成。



想起五年前的炎炎夏日,我們在北京初逢,在古樸險峻的司馬臺長城,他面對來自全國各地的四十多名經濟學學子,一首《蜀道難》,亦信手拈來,毫不費力。





在秋意蕭蕭、烏云蔽日的紐約回憶那些夏天的場景,猶如另一個世界。

我很感念在人生的旅程中總是能遇到讓我眼前一亮的朋友,能產生共鳴的朋友。即便現實并不總盡如人意,想到這些友情,總是心頭一熱,感到人生并沒有白活。

在紐約的這一年多,也有幸認識了一些新的朋友,看到了更大的世界;并且因為我的存在,一些原本沒有交集的人彼此相識而成為好友。人生在世無非要為世界增添一些美好的東西,如此我也非常的心滿意足了。

前赤壁賦

蘇軾(1037-1101)

       壬戌之秋,七月既望,蘇子與客泛舟,游於赤壁之下。清風徐來,水波不興。舉酒屬客,誦明月之詩,歌窈窕之章。少焉,月出於東山之上,徘徊於鬥牛之間。白露橫江,水光接天。縱一葦之所如,凌萬頃之茫然。浩浩乎如馮虛御風,而不知其所止;飄飄乎如遺世獨立,羽化而登仙。

  於是飲酒樂甚,扣舷而歌之。歌曰:“桂棹兮蘭槳,擊空明兮溯流光。渺渺兮予懷,望美人兮天一方。”客有吹洞簫者,倚歌而和之。其聲嗚嗚然,如怨如慕,如泣如訴;余音裊裊,不絕如縷。舞幽壑之潛蛟,泣孤舟之嫠婦。

  蘇子愀然,正襟危坐,而問客曰:“何為其然也?”客曰:“‘月明星稀,烏鵲南飛。’此非曹孟德之詩乎?西望夏口,東望武昌,山川相繆,郁乎蒼蒼,此非孟德之困於周郎者乎?方其破荊州,下江陵,順流而東也,舳艫千裡,旌旗蔽空,釃酒臨江,橫槊賦詩,固一世之雄也;而今安在哉!況吾與子漁樵於江渚之上,侶魚蝦而友麋鹿,駕一葉之扁舟,舉匏樽以相屬。寄蜉蝣於天地,渺滄海之一粟。哀吾生之須臾,羨長江之無窮。挾飛仙以遨游,抱明月而長終。知不可乎驟得,托遺響於悲風。”

  蘇子曰:“客亦知夫水與月乎?逝者如斯,而未嘗往也;盈虛者如彼,而卒莫消長也。蓋將自其變者而觀之,則天地曾不能以一瞬;自其不變者而觀之,則物與我皆無盡也,而又何羨乎?且夫天地之間,物各有主,苟非吾之所有,雖一毫而莫取。惟江上之清風,與山間之明月,耳得之而為聲,目遇之而成色,取之無禁,用之不竭。是造物者之無盡藏也,而吾與子之所共適。”

  客喜而笑,洗盞更酌。肴核既盡,杯盤狼籍。相與枕藉乎舟中,不知東方之既白。