诺贝尔文学经典:《宠儿》第10章Part 4

Was that it? Is that where the manhood lay? In the naming done by a whiteman who was supposedto know? Who gave them the privilege not of working but of deciding how to? No. In theirrelationship with Garner was true metal: they were believed and trusted, but most of all they werelistened to.
He thought what they said had merit, and what they felt was serious. Deferring to his slaves'opinions did not deprive him of authority or power. It was schoolteacher who taught themotherwise. A truth that waved like a scarecrow in rye: they were only Sweet Home men at Sweet Home. One step off that ground and they were trespassers among the human race. Watchdogswithout teeth; steer bulls without horns; gelded workhorses whose neigh and whinny could not betranslated into a language responsible humans spoke.
His strength had lain in knowing that schoolteacher was wrong. Now he wondered. There wasAlfred, Georgia, there was Delaware, there was Sixo and still he wondered. If schoolteacher wasright it explained how he had come to be a rag doll — picked up and put back down anywhere anytime by a girl young enough to be his daughter. Fucking her when he was convinced he didn't wantto. Whenever she turned her behind up, the calves of his youth (was that it?) cracked his resolve.
But it was more than appetite that humiliated him and made him wonder if schoolteacher wasright. It was being moved, placed where she wanted him, and there was nothing he was able to doabout it. For his life he could not walk up the glistening white stairs in the evening; for his life hecould not stay in the kitchen, in the keeping room, in the storeroom at night. And he tried. Held hisbreath the way he had when he ducked into the mud; steeled his heart the way he had when thetrembling began. But it was worse than that, worse than the blood eddy he had controlled with asledge hammer. When he stood up from the supper table at 124 and turned toward the stairs,nausea was first, then repulsion. He, he. He who had eaten raw meat barely dead, who under plumtrees bursting with blossoms had crunched through a dove's breast before its heart stopped beating. Because he was a man and a man could do what he would: be still for six hours in a dry well whilenight dropped; fight raccoon with his hands and win; watch another man, whom he loved betterthan his brothers, roast without a tear just so the roasters would know what a man was like. And itwas he, that man, who had walked from Georgia to Delaware, who could not go or stay put wherehe wanted to in 124 — shame.

就是那么回事么？那就是男子气概么？让一个据说明白的白人命名一下？让那个不是仅仅派给他们活干，而是给了他们决定怎么干活的特权的人给命个名？不。他们和加纳的关系是最铁的：他相信并信任他们，最要紧的是他听他们说话。
他认为他们说的话有价值，他们的感觉也是严肃的。听从他的奴隶的意见并不会剥夺他的威严和权力。"学校老师"教给他们的却恰恰相反。一个像黑麦田里的稻草人一样左右摇摆的真理：他们只在"甜蜜之家"才是"甜蜜之家"的男人。走出那块土地一步，他们就是人种中的渣滓。是没有牙的看门狗；是没有角的公牛；是阉割的辕马，嘶叫声不能翻译成一种重任在肩的人使用的语言。他的力量曾经表现为知道"学校老师"是错的。现在他糊涂了。尽管有过佐治亚的阿尔弗雷德，有过特拉华，有过西克索，可他还是糊涂。如果"学校老师"是对的，那就可以解释他怎么成了一个布娃娃——让一个年轻得可以做他女儿的姑娘随时随地捡起来、丢回去。让他在确信自己根本不情愿的时候操她。无论她什么时候撅起屁股，他年轻时代的小母牛（真是那样么？）就击碎了他的决心。
然而不止是欲望侮辱了他，使他怀疑"学校老师"是否正确。那东西被牵动着，送进她要他放的地方，而他对此却无能为力。他这辈子再不能在晚间走上闪闪发光的白楼梯了；他这辈子再不能在夜里待在厨房、起居室、贮藏室里了。他试过。像从前潜进泥浆时那样屏住呼吸；像从前颤抖开始时那样铁了心肠。可是这比那更糟，比他用一把长柄大铁锤控制住了的血的漩涡还糟。每当他从124号的餐桌旁站起来转向楼梯时，他先是觉得恶心，然后就心生反感。他，他。是他吃了尚未死干净的生肉，是他在鲜花盛开的梅树下咬穿一只鸽子的胸脯，鸽子的心还没有停止跳动。因为他是一个男人，而一个男人想干什么就能干什么：当夜幕降临的时候，在一眼枯井里六小时一动不动；赤手空拳打败浣熊；观看另一个与他情逾手足的男人被烧烤，却不掉一滴眼泪，只是为了让烧烤他的人知道一个男人是什么样子。而且，就是他，那个男人，曾经从佐治亚走到了特拉华，而在124号里面，却不能在他想待的地方自主地去留——耻辱啊。