《斯通纳》 现在开始，你应该认真阅读《斯通纳》 作者 | 史蒂夫·阿尔蒙德 （ The English version follows below ) 15 年前的一天，我参加一个书呆子研究生聚会，跟我一起排在队伍尾巴上的一个朋友把我扯到一边，硬塞给我一本小说，封面上写着“斯通纳”。那个年纪的我正醉心于各路“垮掉”的作家，于是自然认为这本《斯通纳》（原文 STONER ，英语中有“瘾君子”之义）是个讲灵魂堕落的故事。 作为一个不够聪明的读者，如何说明自己喜欢哪一类型的书呢，我决定直接呈上下面这段描写婚外情的简短内容来说明我喜欢的类型。主角斯通纳以这段婚外情来躲避自己乏味的婚姻： “斯通纳还非常年轻的时候，认为爱情就是一种绝对的存在状态，在这种状态下，如果一个人挺幸运的话，可能会找到入口的路径。成熟后，他又认为爱情是一种虚幻宗教的天堂，人们应该怀着有趣的怀疑态度凝视它，带着一种温柔、熟悉的轻蔑，一种难为情的怀旧感。如今，到了中年，他开始知道，爱情既不是一种优美状态，也非虚幻。他把爱情视为转化的人类行为，一种一个瞬间接一个瞬间，一天接一天，被意志、才智和心灵发现、修改的状态。” 我觉得这些文字足够了。 1965 年出版之后，《斯通纳》曾经两次绝版，原因是俗常的日常生活情节和克制的风格令这本书的销售难有起色——同时一件值得玩味的事发生在图书库存变化上。多年以来它逐渐在名人雅士中累积了一批忠实拥趸——其中不乏名作家，它成为了一份“小众阅读”的选择，相比当年第一版在美国只卖了不到 2000 册，如今《斯通纳》已经横扫欧洲的畅销榜单，持续引爆了关于美国文学正典的讨论。 总体上讲，这场文学复活故事印证了我们这样一个判断：细水长流无关乎出版趋势与营销预算。《白鲸记》是赫尔曼·梅维尔的代表作，当这本书开始突然流行时梅维尔感到非常意外，《了不起的盖茨比》有很多年都被认为是不值一提的作品，类似的情况还有很多。奥威尔曾说过，时间才是真正能评价文学的唯一标准。 但与上述几例事例相比，《斯通纳》重生的原因截然不同的颠覆性差异。这么讲可能显得我是个喜欢夸大其词的狂热分子，但这场事件确认让我燃起了一份希望：资本主义能量牢牢控制着我们的注意力，屏蔽了人类对心灵世界痛苦的必要关注，在这样一个时代，《斯通纳》告诉我们最终衡量人类的，是人直面那个隐秘的自我、而非展现在公众前的自我的能力。换句话说，这本书对社会文化提出了一针见血的谴责——而恰巧的是，这本书居然写于五十年前。 最近我正在主持一个不错的读书小组，读的正是《斯通纳》。有一次一个上了年纪的绅士起身发言。他脸色涨得通红，显然有一肚子火：“为什么非要我读个 Loser 的故事？”他继续说，“他不愿意为国效命（斯通纳在战争爆发时没有志愿参军），他的婚姻简直是场噩梦，工作上只有受气的份儿。总的说起来他简直一事无成。” 他说完之后屋子里沉默了，第二个站起来说话打破了沉默，说话轻轻地，几乎不带任何感情，他说自己读这本书时觉得在读自己的生活， William Stoner 可能就是他本人。
我觉得这两个人说的都没错。在很多方面， William Stoner 都是一个犹豫暧昧的主角，保守，被动，甚至无法保护女儿免受妻子心血来潮时种种任性妄为。他生活的主旋律不是进取与成功的整饬有序，而是一种近似于我们自己生活的样子——一种杂糅了欲望、压抑与妥协的混乱状态。
对有些读者来说——比如那个老绅士，这会让他们难以接受，尤其是他读到斯通纳也曾勇敢做过决定。一个充满责任心的、来自穷困农家的孩子，在大学里遇见了文学的力量，选择追寻自己的使命，他献身于教育并倾力而为，也曾放纵自己沉湎于一场明知不可避免沦为一地鸡毛的婚外情。这些片段的发生背景不是历史的宏大舞台，而是斯通纳工作、生活的斗室。《斯通纳》教给我们的最深刻的道理是：生活中唯一的英雄主义，只在于人甘愿投入生活的精神的品质。
今天读这本书让我们认识到我们对英雄主义的认知到底有多浅薄。美国式的崇拜，目标向来是伟大的运动员，巨富商贾，电影明星——他们手中闪耀炫目的成果在我们眼中直接关联着人生价值与快乐。电视荧幕上播放的故事为野心家大唱赞歌——而如果我们唯一愿意欣赏关于一位性情温和的高中老师的电视剧，一定是因为他后来堕落成一个手段很辣的大毒枭。连文学回忆录都得标榜记录了“一场比生活更重大的生命”，来赢取读者注意。
William Stoner 是个什么角色呢？文学史上典型的庸众，一个能力指数排名第十的普通人：一个内向的中世纪研究专家，一辈子与古代文献为伍。他怀着虔诚的坚毅仰望大学，认为依旧相信信念的力量的人能在这里找得到庇护。虽然还没退休，但依旧是校园里的古董。如果放在今天，比较合适的类比对象应该是化石。
今天的世界和斯通纳间的差异，不光是我们手握智能机器能够无所不知，更是我们在智识和情感上的新陈代谢能力快到惊人：我们追逐耸动，又容易自我满足；满足行为，止步于思考。最重要的是，内心塞满希望世界记住自己的野心，却丝毫没有探寻自我、了解自我的欲望。
美国人并非一向如此。据历史学家沃伦·萨斯曼（ Warren Susman ）的观察——苏珊·凯恩（ Susan Cain ,著有《安静：内向性格的竞争力》）在自己论述内向性格的著作《安静》中也有引述—— 20 世纪正经历着社会文化价值观从“品格文化”转变为“个性文化”，前者注重个体私人行为的重要性，后者则强调社会角色就是扮演者的角色。
当窄小荒僻的社区发展到繁华的大城市，人们不得不在竞争激励的职场和社交中争得一席之地，日积月累的修养品德不及第一印象重要，大肆推崇广告式文化的迫切感又增强了美国式舞台存在感，因此需要源源不断地精美服装与道具。如果说古典式的理想生活是过一种被检视的生活，那么现今的目标是过一种被展示的生活。
文化价值观转变带来的效果已经十分显著：想想我们每晚黄金时间播出的选秀，煽动力十足的所谓纪录片，看秀的商人、典当行老板和无所事事的家庭主妇们假装能重设自己的生活。
这就是我们将面临的情况。如果你想成为焦点，不必天生我材，也不必系出名门，你要做的仅仅是造出些动静——随便发点你的笑话、段子、脏话或者恶作剧到网上吧。 作为一个虚构的英雄，斯通纳只能淹没在默默无闻的生活中。但这也是我们共同的命运。我们有过的最善或最恶，英雄主义或卑鄙无耻，也只能被最亲近我们的知晓，终究免不了被遗忘，何况大多数情况下我们最深的感情都封藏于自己的内心。我们憧憬名望的动机多源自缺乏直面以上事实的勇气，我们向很多人忏悔，仿佛通过这些自我曝光人就能避免直面隐秘自我时的恐慌。《斯通纳》之所以能成为一部小说艺术的杰作，因为约翰·威廉斯笔下这场直面隐秘自我的故事没有变成一场悲剧，而为我们的自我救赎提供了必不可少的勇气。 同时，这种救赎并不非以宗教的形式得以实现，反而是以文学为契机。正是因为这个故事向艺术献上了虔诚的诚服，它所展示的典雅是一种艺术式的典雅（这也解释为何作家无法抗拒这本小说）。 这本书开头的部分，斯通纳的启蒙老师朗诵了莎士比亚的一首十四行诗： 目睹这些，你的爱会更加坚定， 因为他转瞬要辞你溘然长往。 他望向斯通纳——一个专业农学只想着在这堂课上修学分的学生——要求阐释这些诗的意思。斯通纳不知道怎么回答，他唯一能感觉到的是这首诗好像开启了内心某些陌生的东西。在这么多年的麻木不仁之后，他仿佛好像突然奇迹般地有了意识，连树木和天空都承受着不能承受之重，他能感觉到血液在无形地穿过纤细的血管和动脉流淌，周围的同学放佛都被照亮了，“他好奇地看着他们，好像以前没见过这些同学，好像自己离他们很远又很近”。这一刻，是斯通纳意识到自己灵魂的一刻。
或者更准确地说，他开始对自己的生命投以精神。 很快，命运开始了对他的戏弄。婚姻变成了一场家庭噩梦，女儿陷入了绝望，一个麻木不仁的宿敌毁灭他的事业。对于在这世上的境况，他已经不抱期待，他意识到在别人眼中自己的怪异，自己投入事业进取的智识与能力也不过尔尔。这种周而复始的境遇中，斯通纳一次次被逼面对自己的软弱，挑战自己身为一个儿子、父亲、丈夫和学者的底线——但他从未逃避面对。 在斯通纳弥留之际，作者这样写道：“一种柔软感缠在他身上，一种倦怠感爬上他的四肢。一种他自己的身份感忽然猛然袭来，他感觉到了这个东西的力量。他就是自己，他知道自己曾经是什么样的人。”
“他就是自己，他知道自己曾经是什么样的人”。试问，我们中有多少人做到了这一点？
You Should Seriously Read ‘Stoner’ Right Now By STEVE ALMOND
Fifteen years ago, a friend of mine pulled me aside at the tail end of some sodden grad-school party and pressed a copy ofthe novel “Stoner” into my hands. I was at the time in the thrall of various junkie authors and thus assumed “Stoner” would be a tale of psychoactive depravity. The book was a different sort of trip altogether. The novel follows the life of an academic named William Stoner, a man forgotten by his students and colleagues, by history itself. The author, the late John Williams, announces all this on Page1. It’s as if he’s daring us to dismiss the book. I devoured it in one sitting. I had never encountered a work so ruthless in its devotion to human truths and so tender in its execution.
I realize this is the kind of thing besotted readers say all the time about their favorite books, so let me offer into evidence this brief passage about an affair Stoner initiates as a refuge from his joyless marriage:
“In his extreme youth Stoner had thought of love as an absolute state of being to which, if one were lucky, one might find access; in his maturity he had decided it was the heaven of a false religion, toward which one ought to gaze with an amused disbelief, a gently familiar contempt, and an embarrassed nostalgia. Now in his middle age he began to know that it was neither a state of grace nor anillusion; he saw it as a human act of becoming, a condition that was invented and modified moment by moment and day by day, by the will and the intelligenceand the heart.” I sort of rest my case.
Since its publication in 1965, “Stoner” has gone out of print twice, doomed by its mundane plot and restrained style. But a funny thing happened on the way to the remainders table. Thanks to a legion of disciples, many of them prominent writers ( along with Tom Hanks, who recommended the book in a Time interview ),“Stoner” became the Little Novel That Could. Despite selling only 2,000 copies in its initial printing, “Stoner” topped best-seller lists allacross Europe last year, and has steadily infiltrated literary discussions about the American canon. One critic actually got so sick of the praise heaped upon the novel that he recently published a rather self-defeating screed condemning its popularity.
For the most part, though, this tale of literary resurrection affirms our sense that posterity shouldn’t be about publishing trends or marketing budgets. Herman Melville figured “Moby-Dick” would be his masterpiece and was bewildered when it bombed. “The Great Gatsby” was dismissed for years as a minor work. The list goes on. Orwell famously argued that the only real critic of literature is time. But there is something distinct and thrillingly subversive in the resurgence of “Stoner.” I am no doubt overstating the case, as fanatics do, but I find ittremendously hopeful that “Stoner” is thriving in a world in which capitalist energies are so hellbent on distracting us from the necessary anguish of our inner lives. “Stoner” argues that we are measured ultimately by our capacity to face the truth of who we are inprivate moments, not by the burnishing of our public selves. It is, in otherwords, a searing condemnation of our current cultural moment — one that happens to have been written nearly 50 years ago.
Recently, I hosted a well-lubricated book group for “Stoner.” At one point an elderly gentleman stood to address the room. He was clearly in a state of high dudgeon; his cheeks were a blazing red. “Why should I read about this loser?” he demanded. “He refuses to fight for his country. His marriage is a nightmare. Hegets bullied around at work. He never does anything.”
An awkward pause descended, broken only by a second man who observed, softly but with no less emotion, that he felt he was reading about his own life, and that William Stoner might as well have been he. I agreed with both of them.
William Stoner is, in many ways, a dubious leading man, introverted and passive. He fails even to protect his daughter from the deranged whims of his troubled wife. The story of his life is not an eat crescendo of industry and triumph, but something more akin to our own lives: a muddle of desires and inhibitions and compromises.
This makes it hard for some readers, like the elderly gentleman, to see that Stoner also makes courageous decisions. The dutiful son of a poor farmer, he discovers the power of literature in college and pursues his calling. He labors to honor the mission of teaching and gives himself over to a passionate affair he knows will end in ruin. These events play out not on the grand stage of history but the small rooms of his workplace and home. The deepest lesson of “Stoner” is this: What makes a life heroic is the quality of attention paid to it. To read the book today is to recognize how shallow our conception of the heroic has become. Americans worship athletes and moguls and movie stars, those who possess the glittering gifts we equate with worth and happiness. The stories that flash across our screens tend to bepaeans to reckless ambition. We might be willing to watch a drama about a meek high-school science teacher, but only if he degenerates into a homicidal methtycoon. Heck, even our literary memoirs have to tell a “larger than life” story to find a wide audience. As for William Stoner, he’s the archetypal literary Every mantaken to the 10th power — a timid medievalist who spends his life amid ancient texts. He looks upon the university with sincere reverence, as a sanctuary for those who still believe in the world of ideas. Long before his retirement, he is regardedas a relic around campus. He would qualify as something closer to a fossil today. It’s not just that we’re all toting around omniscient devices the size of candy bars. It’s the staggering acceleration ofour intellectual and emotional metabolisms: our hunger for sensation and narcissistic reward, our readiness to privilege action over contemplation. And,most of all, our desperate compulsion to be known by the world rather than seeking to know ourselves. Americans were not always this way. As the historian Warren Susman observed — and as Susan Cain reiterates in her recent book about introversion,“Quiet” — the 20th century ushered in a shift from a “culture of character,” which emphasized the importance ofour private behavior, to one of “personality” in which the exalted social role was that of a performer.
As Americans moved from smaller rural communities to the bustling anonymity of cities, as they were forced to compete for regard in ever more frantic workplaces and social settings, first impressions became more important than the subtle virtues one might cultivateover a lifetime. The emergence of a robust advertising culture reinforced the notion that Americans were more or less always on stage and thus in constant need of suitable costumes and props. If the ancient ideal had been to lead an examined life, the modern goal became to lead a life that was displayed. The results of this paradigm shift have never been more evident. Consider our nightly parade of prime-time talent shows and ginned-up documentaries in which chefs and pawn brokers and bored housewives reinvent their private lives as theater. And this is what the rest of us are up to,as well. Consider the growth industries in our tech sector: social-media companies like Facebook and Twitter, look-at-me apps like Instagram and Snapchat, content-sharing websites like YouTube and Pinterest that serve asfounts of personal marketing. If you want to be among those who count, and youdon’t happen tobe endowed with divine talents or a royal lineage, well then, make some noise.Put your wit — or your craft projects or your rants or your pranks — on public display.
Otherwise, you wind up like poor Stoner: a footnote in the great human story.
But aren’t nearly all of us footnotes in the end? Don’t the dreams we harbor eventually give way to the actuality of our lives?
As a fictional hero, William Stoner will have to dwell in obscurity forever. But that, too, is our destiny. Our most profound acts of virtue and vice, of heroism and villainy, will be known by only those closest to us and forgotten soon enough. Even our deepest feelings will, for the most part, lay concealed within the vault of our hearts. Much ofthe reason we construct garish fantasies of fame is to distract ourselves from these painful truths. We confess so much to so many, as if by these disclosures we might escape the terror of confronting our hidden selves. What makes “Stoner” such a radical work of art is that it portrays this confrontation not as a tragedy, but the essential source ofour redemption. And this redemption, by the way, does not come in the form of religious revelation. “Stoner” containsalmost no reference to God at all. Instead, revelation is triggered by literature. The novel is not able as art because it places such profound faithin art. (This is also what makes it so irresistible to writers.) Early in the book, a daunting instructor recites Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73 to his class: “This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong/To love that well which thou must leave ere long.” He trains his gaze upon Stoner — an agricultural student hoping only to fulfill a requirement — and demands to know what these lines mean. Stoner has no idea what to say. He knows only that the poem has triggered some strange upheaval within him. It is as if, after years of slumber, he suddenly awakens to the miracle of consciousness. The sky and treestake on an almost unbearable intensity. He senses his own blood flowing invisibly through his veins. His fellow students appear illuminated from within, and he feels “very distant from them and very close to them.” It is the moment when he become saware of his own soul. Or maybe it would be more precise to say that he simply begins paying attention to his life. Soon enough, fate confounds him. His marriage devolves into a domestic horror. His daughter falls into despair. A senseless feud undermines his career. He suffers no delusions about his place in the world. He recognizes that others find him absurd and that his intellectual contributions to his arcane field are at best minor. Over and over again, Stoner is forced to confront his own weakness, his limitations as a sonand father and husband and scholar. And yet he refuses to turn away.
As Stoner lies dying, his creator observes:“There was a softness around him, and a languor crept upon his limbs. A sense of his own identity came upon him with a sudden force, and he felt the power of it. He was himself, and he knew what he had been.”
How many of us can say the same of ourselves? 《斯通纳》 作者 | 约翰·威廉斯 本文由世纪文景授权发布 编辑｜ideal 单读出品，转载请先至后台询问 无条件欢迎分享转发朋友圈 长按识别图中二维码，或点击【阅读原文】下载单读 App（如果曾经下载过旧版单读 App 的用户，请卸载后重新下载）。 |
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