丽塔.海华丝和肖申克的救赎(节选)

都不禁感叹――原来人的意志力可以这么强大

!

一个无辜的

人能够在

27

,

每天< /p>

晚上都用一把小锤去凿人家认为几百年也不可能凿穿的墙

,

这是怎样一种精神信念在支撑着他

?!

这又给 我们的心灵带来

了怎样一种震撼

?!

这 期奉上原著

Rita Hayworth and

Shawshank Redemption,

让我们一同来重 温这幅用希望绘制的

生命画卷

!

该小说 收录在被

《纽约时报》

誉为

“现代惊悚 小说大师”

的美国作家

Stephen King(1947

―

)

表作

Different Seasons(

《不同的季节》

)

一 书里。

2003

年

,Stephen King

获得了美国国家图书奖的终身成就奖。

――

Lavender

Time continued to pass

―

the oldest trick in the world, and

maybe the only one that really is magic. But Andy Dufresne had

changed. He had grown harder. That’s the only way I can think

of to put it. He went on doing 1)Warden Norton’s dirty work and

he held onto the library, so outwardly things were about the

same. He continued to have his birthday drinks and his year end

holiday drinks; he continued to share out the rest of each bottle.

I got him fresh rock-polishing cloths from time to time, and in

1967 I got him a new rock-

hammer―the one I’d gotten him

nineteen years ago had 2)plumb worn out. Nineteen years!

When you say it sudden like that, those three 3)syllables sound

like the 4)thud and double-locking of a tomb door. The

rock-hammer, which had been a ten-dollar item back then, went

for twenty-

two by ’67. H

e and I had a sad little grin over that.

Andy continued to shape and polish the rocks he found in

the exercise yard, but the yard was smaller by then; half of what

had been there in 1950 had been 5)asphalted over in 1962.

Nonetheless, he found enough to keep him occupied, I guess.

When he had finished with each rock he would put it carefully

on his 6)window ledge, which faced east. He told me he liked to

look at them in the sun, the pieces of the planet he had taken up

from the dirt and shaped.

Norton had told Andy that Andy walked around the

exercise yard as if he were at a cocktail party. That isn

’

t the way

I would have put it, but I know what he meant. It goes back to

what I said about Andy wearing his freedom like an invisible

coat, about how he never really developed a prison mentality.

His eyes never got that dull look. He never developed the walk

that men get when the day is over and they are going back to

their 7)cells for another endless night―that

8)flat-footed,9)hump-shouldered walk. Andy walked with his

shoulders 10)squared and his step was always light, as if he was

heading home to a good home-cooked meal and a good woman

instead of to a tasteless mess of 11)soggy vegetables, 12)lumpy

mashed potato, and a slice or two of that 13)fatty, 14)gristly

stuff most of the 15)cons called mystery meat ... that, and a

picture of 16)Raquel Welch on the wall.

…

I remember one bright-gold fall day in very late October. It

must have been a Sunday, because the exercise yard was full of

men “walking off the week”―tossing a 17)Frisbee or two,

passing around a football, bartering what they had to barter.

Others would be at the long table in the Visitors’ Hall, under the

watchful eyes of the screws, talking with their relatives,

smoking cigarettes, telling sincere lies, receiving their

picked-over 18)care packages.

本文为全文原貌

未安装

PDF

浏览器用户请先下载安装

原

版全文

Andy was squatting against the wall, 19)chunking two

small rocks together in his hands, his face turned up into the

sunlight. It was surprisingly warm, that sun, for a day so late in

the year.

“

Hello, Red,

”

he called.

“

Come on and sit a 20)spell.

”

I did.

“

You want this?

”

he asked, and handed me one of the two

carefully polished

“

millennium sandwi

ches.”

“

I sure do,

”

I said.

“

It

’

s very pretty. Thank you.

”

He shrugged and changed the subject.

“

Big anniversary

coming up for you next year.

”

I nodded. Next year would make me a thirty-year man.

Sixty per cent of my life spent in Shawshank Prison.

“

Think you

’

ll ever get out?

”

“

Sure. When I have a long white beard.

”

He smiled a little and then turned his face up into the sun

again, his eyes closed.

“

Feels good.

”

“

I think it always does when you know the dam

n winter’s

almost right on top of you.”

He nodded, and we were silent for a while.

“

When I get out of here,

”

Andy said finally,

“

I

’

m going

where it

’

s warm all the time.

”

He spoke with such calm

assurance you would have thought he had only a month or so

left to serve. “You know where I’m goin’, Red?”

“

21) Nope.

”

“

22) Zihuatanejo,

”

he said, rolling the word softly from his

tongue like music.

“

Down in Mexico. It

’

s a little place maybe

twenty miles from 23)Playa Azul and Mexico Highw

ay 37. It’s a

hundred miles north-west of 24)Acapulco on the Pacific Ocean.

You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific?”

I told him I didn

’

t.

“

They say it has no memory. And that

’

s where I want to

finish out my life, Red. In a warm pla

ce that has no memory.”

He had picked up a handful of pebbles as he spoke; now he

tossed them, one by one, and watched them bounce and roll

across the baseball 25)diamond’s dirt infield, which would be

under a foot of snow before long.

“

Zihuatanejo

. I’m going to have a little hotel down there.

Six 26)cabanas along the beach, and six more set further back,

for the highway trade. I’ll have a guy who’ll take my guests out

27)charter fishing. There’ll be a 28)trophy for the guy who

catches the biggest 29)marlin of the season, and I’ll put his

picture up in the lobby. It won’t be a family place. It’ll be a

place for people on their honeymoons ... first or second

varieties.”

“

And where are you going to get the money to buy this

fabulous place?

”

I

asked. “Your stock account?”

He looked at me and smiled.

“

That

’

s not so far wrong,

”

he said.

“

Sometimes you startle me, Red.

”

“

What are you talking about?

”

There are really only two types of men in the world when it

comes to bad troub

le,” Andy said, cupping a match between his

hands and lighting a cigarette. “Suppose there was a house full

of rare paintings and sculptures and fine old antiques, Red? And

suppose the guy who owned the house heard that there was a

monster of a hurricane headed right at it. One of those two kinds

of men just hopes for the best. The hurricane will change course,

he says to himself. No 30)right-thinking hurricane would ever

dare wipe out all these 31)Rembrandts, my two 32)Degas horses,

my 33)Grant Woods and my 34)Bentons. Furthermore, God