陳榕

豪爾赫·路易斯·博爾赫斯（Jorge Luis Borges， 1899～1986）是阿根廷最著名的詩人和小說家。他出生于布宜諾斯艾利斯，童年隨父母游歷歐洲，所接受到的是國際化教育，成年后長期在圖書館工作，1955年還曾擔(dān)任過阿根廷國家圖書館館長。因此，他非常博學(xué)，精通多國語言，并且深受歐洲文學(xué)傳統(tǒng)的熏陶。博爾赫斯早年主要從事詩歌創(chuàng)作，中年后開始撰寫短篇小說，是20世紀最偉大的短篇小說家之一。他的主要作品有詩集《布宜諾斯艾利斯的激情》（Fervor of Buenos Aires）、《面前的月亮》（Moon Across the Way），短篇小說集《小徑分岔的花園》（The Garden of Forking Paths）、《阿萊夫》（The Aleph）、《布羅迪醫(yī)生的報告》（Dr. Brodies Report）、《沙之書》（The Book of Sand）等。博爾赫斯的作品意境瑰麗，主要關(guān)注的是死亡與永恒、真實與夢境、存在與虛無等思辨性的主題?！渡持畷肥遣柡账拱l(fā)表于1975年的一篇著名的短篇小說，比較充分地體現(xiàn)了其小說創(chuàng)作的主要特色。

I live alone in a fourth-floor apartment on Belgrano Street， in Buenos Aires. Late one evening， a few months back， I heard a knock at my door. I opened it and a stranger stood there. He was a tall man， with nondescript features—or perhaps it was my myopia2） that made them seem that way. Dressed in gray and carrying a gray suitcase in his hand， he had an unassuming look about him. I saw at once that he was a foreigner. At first， he struck me as old； only later did I realize that I had been misled by his thin blond hair， which was， in a Scandinavian sort of way， almost white. During the course of our conversation， which was not to last an hour， I found out that he came from the Orkneys.

I invited him in， pointing to a chair. He paused awhile before speaking. A kind of gloom emanated3） from him—as it does now from me.

“I sell Bibles，” he said.

Somewhat pedantically4）， I replied， “In this house are several English Bibles. Its not exactly Bibles I stand in need of.”

After a few moments of silence， he said， “I dont only sell Bibles. I can show you a holy book I came across on the outskirts of Bikaner5）. It may interest you.”

He opened the suitcase and laid the book on a table. It was an octavo6） volume， bound in cloth. There was no doubt that it had passed through many hands. Examining it， I was surprised by its unusual weight. On the spine were the words “Holy Writ7）” and， below them， “Bombay8）.”

“Nineteenth century， probably，” I remarked.

“I dont know，” he said. “Ive never found out.”

I opened the book at random. The script9） was strange to me. The pages， which were worn and typographically10） poor， were laid out in double columns， as in a Bible. The text was closely printed， and it was ordered in versicles11）. In the upper corners of the pages were Arabic numbers. I noticed that one left-hand page bore the number （let us say） 40，514 and the facing right-hand page 999. I turned the leaf； it was numbered with eight digits. It also bore a small illustration， like the kind used in dictionaries—an anchor drawn with pen and ink， as if by a schoolboys clumsy hand.

It was at this point that the stranger said， “Look at the illustration closely. Youll never see it again.”

I noted my place and closed the book. At once， I reopened it. Page by page， in vain， I looked for the illustration of the anchor. “It seems to be a version of Scriptures in some Indian language， is it not？” I said to hide my dismay.

“No，” he replied. Then， as if confiding a secret， he lowered his voice. “I acquired the book in a town out on the plain in exchange for a handful of rupees12） and a Bible. Its owner did not know how to read. I suspect that he saw the Book of Books as a talisman13）. He was of the lowest caste14）； nobody but other untouchables15） could tread his shadow without contamination. He told me his book was called the Book of Sand， because neither the book nor the sand has any beginning or end.”

The stranger asked me to find the first page.

I lay my left hand on the cover and， trying to put my thumb on the flyleaf16）. I opened the book. It was useless. Every time I tried， a number of pages came between the cover and my thumb. It was as if they kept growing from the book.

“Now find the last page.”

Again I failed. In a voice that was not mine， I barely managed to stammer， “This cant be.”

Still speaking in a low voice， the stranger said， “It cant be， but it is. The number of pages in this book is no more or less than infinite. None is the first page， none the last. I dont know why theyre numbered in this arbitrary way. Perhaps to suggest that the terms of an infinite series admit any number.”

While we spoke， I kept exploring the infinite book. With feigned indifference， I asked， “Do you intend to offer this curiosity to the British Museum？”

“No. Im offering it to you，” he said， and he stipulated a rather high sum for the book.

I answered， in all truthfulness， that such a sum was out of my reach， and I began thinking. After a minute or two， I came up with a scheme.

“I propose a swap，” I said. “You got this book for a handful of rupees and a copy of the Bible. Ill offer you the amount of my pension check， which Ive just collected， and my black-letter Wiclif Bible17）. I inherited it from my ancestors.”

“A black-letter Wiclif！” he murmured.

I went to my bedroom and brought him the money and the book. He turned the leaves and studied the title page with all the fervor of a true bibliophile18）.

“Its a deal，” he said.

It amazed me that he did not haggle. Only later was I to realize that he had entered my house with his mind made up to sell the book. Without counting the money， he put it away.

We talked about India， about Orkney， and about the Norwegian jarls19） who once ruled it. It was night when the man left. I have not seen him again， nor do I know his name.

I showed no one my treasure. To the luck of owning it was added the fear of having it stolen， and then the misgiving that it might not truly be infinite. These twin preoccupations intensified my old misanthropy20）. I had only a few friends left； I now stopped seeing even them. A prisoner of the book， I almost never went out anymore. After studying its frayed spine and covers with a magnifying glass， I rejected the possibility of a contrivance of any sort. The small illustrations， I verified， came two thousand pages apart. I set about listing them alphabetically in a notebook， which I was not long in filling up. Never once was an illustration repeated. At night， in the meager intervals my insomnia granted， I dreamed of the book.

Summer came and went， and I realized that the book was monstrous. What good did it do me to think that I， who looked upon the volume with my eyes， who held it in my hands， was any less monstrous？ I felt that the book was a nightmarish object， an obscene thing that affronted21） and tainted reality itself.

I thought of fire， but I feared that the burning of an infinite book might likewise prove infinite and suffocate the planet with smoke. Somewhere I recalled reading that the best place to hide a leaf is in a forest. Before retirement， I worked on Mexico Street， at the Argentine National Library， which contains nine hundred thousand volumes. I knew that to the right of the entrance a curved staircase leads down into the basement， where books and maps and periodicals are kept. One day I went there and， slipping past a member of the staff and trying not to notice at what height or distance from the door， I lost the Book of Sand on one of the basements musty shelves.

小時候，我特別愛看閑書。因為當(dāng)你打開書頁時，就可以像《西游記》里的孫悟空一樣一個筋斗翻十萬八千里，也可以隨《格列夫游記》里的主人公到神奇的大人國、小人國游歷，可謂上天入地下海無所不能。每一本書都為我們展示出一個不同的世界。房間是小的，有了書，一下子就變大了，大到可以容納熱帶雨林與冰雪極地，可以容納浩瀚海洋和無邊宇宙。在這里，你既可以見到秦皇漢武，也可以見到灰姑娘與白雪公主。然而，我爸媽的書架上理工科書籍居多，我最愛看的小說卻很少，所以我只能向同學(xué)和朋友借。對于借來讀的書，我恨不得它們都是無限長、無限厚，最好總也讀不完，章章都精彩。我想這應(yīng)該不是我個人的特例，很多愛書之人大概都做過這樣的白日夢吧。而博爾赫斯在短篇小說《沙之書》中就描寫了一本這樣的魔書。

在《沙之書》中，主人公靜坐家中，聽到一陣敲門聲，開門去看，是一位推銷《圣經(jīng)》的書商。主人公告知對方自己家里藏有各種版本的《圣經(jīng)》，并不需要買書。推銷員于是神神秘秘地推銷起另外一本書。這本書看起來很不起眼，“書頁磨損得很舊，印刷粗糙，像《圣經(jīng)》一樣，每頁兩欄。版面分段，排得很擠。每頁上角有阿拉伯?dāng)?shù)字。”可是推銷員卻宣稱這本書是一本有魔力的書，是他某一次機緣巧合從一個印度人手中買來的。這本書的特點是你永遠也不可能讀完它。推銷員說把書賣給他的那個印度人稱此書為“沙之書”，“因為那本書像沙一樣，無始無終”。

主人公隨手翻了翻，果然立即發(fā)現(xiàn)了這本書的神奇之處。書的外觀和一般的書籍沒有不同，拿在手里卻非常重。書的頁碼不是連號：上一頁是40，514頁，下一頁就可能是999頁。而且，每一頁書只能翻閱一次，進入下一頁后，再返回前一頁，就會發(fā)現(xiàn)它的內(nèi)容已經(jīng)發(fā)生了變化。此外，這本書找不到第一頁，“我把左手按在封面上，大拇指幾乎貼著食指去揭書頁。白費勁：封面和手之間總是有好幾頁，仿佛是從書里冒出來的?！蓖瑯拥牡览恚@本書也找不到最后一頁。

主人公立即著了迷，傾囊而出，用剛領(lǐng)到的退休金和稀有的祖?zhèn)鳌妒ソ?jīng)》版本和書商交換，成了這本書的主人。自此，他足不出戶，每天留在家里研讀這本神奇的書，臨摹其中的插圖，用放大鏡檢索書脊和封面，連睡夢里也是如此?？墒牵@本書雖然給主人公帶來了神奇的體驗，卻也使他走火入魔，逐漸侵占了他的人生。主人公本就是個孤僻的人，沒有幾個朋友，自從得到了這本書，因為害怕他人覬覦，他便對書的存在守口如瓶，也和朋友斷絕了來往，本就性格孤僻的他變得更加孤立。他不再出門，天天躲在房間里孜孜不倦地研讀。書籍吸收了他的血肉生命，把他和現(xiàn)實的人生隔斷。終于有一天，他領(lǐng)悟到了這種變化的可怕之處：“我領(lǐng)悟到那本書是個可怕的怪物。我把自己也設(shè)想成一個怪物：睜著銅鈴大眼盯著它，伸出帶爪的十指撥弄它，但是無濟于事。我覺得它是一切煩惱的根源?！?/p>

書是人類文明最具有魔性的發(fā)明之一。打開書頁，里面的文字和圖像就能自動構(gòu)建出有別于現(xiàn)實世界的虛擬空間，令人流連忘返，樂不思蜀。佛教有“須彌藏芥子，芥子納須彌”（編注：芥為蔬菜，子如粟粒，喻極為微小。須彌山指帝釋天、四大天王等的居所，喻極為巨大）的說法。英國浪漫主義詩人威廉·布萊克在長詩《天真的預(yù)兆》（Auguries of Innocence）的開篇也曾寫過“一沙一世界，一花一天堂”的詩句。主人公所擁有的這本神奇的書，每一張書頁都可以看做是隱藏著獨立宇宙的一粒芥子或收納著獨立世界的一顆沙粒。而這本書的書頁偏偏又如恒河里的沙子，怎么數(shù)也數(shù)不盡。從某種意義上說，主人公捧在手里的不是一本書，而是一座無限大的圖書館。主人公曾是一名圖書館館員，不難理解他為何會如此喜歡這本書。值得警惕的是，書中的世界固然美，卻非常容易令人迷失。在小說《沙之書》中，為了得到這本書，推銷商用《圣經(jīng)》去和印度人交換。為了得到這本書，主人公用稀世珍版的《圣經(jīng)》去和推銷商交換。代表西方信仰體系與道德體系的《圣經(jīng)》被置換為這樣一本書，這顯然是一個有關(guān)代價的隱喻：來敲門的應(yīng)該是魔鬼撒旦吧，他召喚主人公交出《圣經(jīng)》，放棄道德，放棄信仰，放棄與人類社會的聯(lián)系，而作為對主人公的報答，他允許主人公進入無窮無盡的書的世界。

晉朝詩人陶淵明曾經(jīng)寫過《讀<山海經(jīng)>十三首》，其中第一首中寫到了讀書的樂趣：“孟夏草木長，繞屋樹扶疏。眾鳥欣有托，吾亦愛吾廬。既耕亦已種，時還讀我書。窮巷隔深轍，頗回故人車。歡言酌春酒，摘我園中蔬。微雨從東來，好風(fēng)與之俱。泛覽《周王傳》，流觀《山海圖》。俯仰終宇宙，不樂復(fù)何如。”可是在博爾赫斯的《沙之書》中，主人公在書中世界里“俯仰終宇宙”后，體會到的卻是悶悶不樂之情?！渡持畷房梢员灰暈樘諟Y明詩的反面。主人公讀書，不曾寄居于天地之間，不曾感受到“孟夏草木長，繞屋樹扶疏”以及“微雨從東來，好風(fēng)與之俱”的自然之美，而是將自己封閉在遠離自然的孤立的房間中。讀書時，他有著苦行僧的執(zhí)著，卻缺少“既耕亦已種，時還讀我書”的愜意，更缺乏“歡言酌春酒，摘我園中蔬”的溫暖友情的照耀。在《沙之書》中，主人公迷失在書的宇宙中，忘記了自己還擁有另外一個宇宙——這個真實的可觸摸的世界。所幸博爾赫斯筆下的主人公是一位明智之人。他及時停步，把“沙之書”送到了圖書館，讓這本魔書和圖書館中的九十萬冊藏書一起待在書架上，緘默地守護著它的扉頁里那個神奇的變動不居的無窮無盡的世界。

書的世界，人的世界——這是兩個平行的宇宙，我們每個讀書人都是在這兩個世界里來回出入的旅人。當(dāng)你在這兩個世界里自由穿行時，請謹記：千萬別迷路，要讓書中的旅行成為平凡的現(xiàn)實生活的補充，實現(xiàn)“俯仰終宇宙，不樂復(fù)何如”。當(dāng)然，這需要你懂得何時該在書中的世界里沉醉，何時該從書中的世界里走出。

1. 節(jié)選為小說全文，略有刪節(jié)。

2. myopia [ma????pi?] n. [醫(yī)]近視

3. emanate [?em?ne?t] vi. 發(fā)出；散發(fā)

4. pedantically [p??d?nt?kli] adv. 賣弄學(xué)問地

5. Bikaner：比卡內(nèi)爾，印度西北部城市

6. octavo [?k?te?v??] n. 八開本

7. Holy Writ：至高無上的權(quán)威著作

8. Bombay：孟買，印度西部港口城市

9. script [skr?pt] n. 筆跡；手寫體

10. typographically [?ta?p??ɡr?f?k（?）li] adv. 印刷地

11. versicle [?v??s?k（?）l] n. 短詩；短句

12. rupee [?ru??pi?] n. 盧比（印度貨幣單位）

13. talisman [?t?l?zm?n] n. 護身符

14. caste [kɑ?st] n. （印度社會中的）種姓

15. untouchable [?n?t?t??b（?）l] n. （印度）被剝奪種姓者

16. flyleaf [?fla??li?f] n. 扉頁

17. Wiclif Bible：威克里夫版《圣經(jīng)》。約翰·威克里夫（John Wiclif， c. 1320～1384），歐洲宗教改革的先驅(qū)。為了人們能讀懂《圣經(jīng)》譯本，他與朋友合譯了英文版《圣經(jīng)》。

18. bibliophile [?b?bli??fa?l] n. 藏書家；愛書的人

19. jarl [jɑ?l] n. （古代斯堪的納維亞地位僅次于國王的）王公

20. misanthropy [m?s??nθr?pi] n. 厭世

21. affront [??fr?nt] vt. 有意冒犯；公開侮辱