——海明威《橋邊的老人》賞析

【标題賞析】

為什麼是“橋邊”？

平時讀小說，标題掃一眼也就過去了，可是讀完全文，這個問題卻冒了出來。

小說第一句就寫到老人是“坐在路旁”，文中其他與老人位置有關的部分如下： “老人還在原處”“老人始終坐在那裡”“他說着撐起來，搖晃了幾步，向後一仰，終于又在路旁的塵土中坐了下去。”

自始至終，老人都一直停留在“路旁”，标題卻舍曰“路旁”而說 “橋邊”，難道是翻譯有誤？OMG這個翻譯也太水了！這個編輯也太粗心了，人教版啊word哥！不要被“人叫闆”啊！全國多少學生在讀老師在教？萬一有同學問起來，這個鍋哥不背哦！

且慢，為了把鍋甩得漂亮，為了實錘翻譯和編輯，讓我們看看原文标題：《Old Man at the Bridge》！ 元芳，此事你怎麼看？

此事背後一定有個天大的秘密（^_^）。

福建師大孫紹振教授指出：“要在學生忽略掉的、以為是不言而喻甚至是平淡無奇的地方，你卻發現了精彩，而且揪住不放，把問題提出來，也就是把矛盾揭示出來。”為什麼是這樣寫而不是那樣寫？為什麼是“橋邊”而不是“路邊”？

俗話說，橋歸橋路歸路，那就讓我們從“橋”與“路”的區别中去尋找答案吧。不用查辭典，百度一下：“橋是一種用來跨越障礙的大型構造物。橋的目的是允許人、車輛、火車或船舶穿過障礙。”“路，基本字義為道，往來通行的地方。”

好了。You get it？聯系文本，老人過橋了嗎？這個問題是大多數人忽略掉的地方。注意原文；“我的任務是過橋去偵察對岸的橋頭堡，查明敵人究竟推進到了什麼地點。完成任務後，我又從橋上回到原處。”“我”與老人總不能隔着橋喊話吧？那不成了劉三姐對歌了？所以老人應該是過了橋。

過了橋，意味着老人已經穿過了障礙，然而，他真的穿過了障礙了嗎？現實的橋，他過了。可是他能去哪兒（“那邊我沒有熟人”）？動物們又怎麼辦（“可是，另外幾隻東西怎麼辦呢？我簡直不敢想。”）？他的确過橋了，但是更大的障礙橫亘在他的面前，他七十六歲了，他已經走了十二公裡，他再也走不動了。過了橋又能怎樣？

無論是自己的前途，還是動物們的前途，都是一片未知甚至是黯然無光的。他過得了現實的橋，過不了心裡的橋。

所以，既不是“路旁”的老人，也不是“橋上”的老人，而是“橋邊”的老人。他被“橋”，完全的排除在外了。

橋，他的确過去了。瞧，他的确過不去了。 于無聲處，聽驚雷。

【正文賞析】

一個戴鋼絲邊眼鏡的老人坐在路旁，衣服上盡是塵土。

“鋼絲邊眼鏡”在全文中出現了兩次。老人長什麼樣？不知道。下文也隻說到“滿是灰塵的黑衣服、盡是塵土的灰色面孔”。模糊的形象，惹眼的眼鏡，這樣的對比意在表達什麼？試作如下猜測：

①“眼鏡”——而且是比較雅緻講究的“鋼絲邊”的眼鏡，說明他受過教育，可能是一個知識分子，與後文在塵土中踯躅的“農夫們”身份并不一樣。希望通過學習改變命運，古今中外皆然。但七十六歲高齡的他本該在自己家裡頤養天年，卻不得不獨身逃難與農夫們一同在塵土中疲于奔命，正表現了戰争的殘酷性。它無論貴賤，不分貧富，哪管老少，抹煞了人與人平時的區别，砍掉了每個人前半生的作為——戰争面前，人人“平等”！

從這個角度，進一步聯系全文來看，老人不僅形象模糊，而且不知姓名。小說裡的每個人，都沒出現姓名。這個老人就是戰争中的“男人、女人和孩子們”以及所有人的一個代表，戰争讓所有的人都沒了姓名。這就跟老人曾經照料的動物都隻是叫着“山羊”“貓”“鴿子”一樣，“人”就是他們的共名。戰争，讓他們所有人都失去了身份。

②眼鏡的外形恰似攝影鏡頭，可以定格老人的神情；“鋼絲”又如一道監獄的欄杆，隔絕了内心世界與外界的聯系。雖然“我”與老人有過不少對話，“我”對老人有着同情和關心，“老人”也把自己的擔心、憂慮說了出來，那又怎樣？“我”對老人“看管動物”的話語并不能完全聽懂，老人最後不再“對着我講”隻能自言自語……“我”能改變老人的命運嗎？“老人”可以依靠“我”嗎？兩個人在橋邊的交流，隻不過是兩條直線的一次交叉，之後橋歸橋路歸路，各自保命、自求多福。

薄薄的眼鏡，深重的苦難。

這句話裡還有一個詞值得我們注意——“塵土”（dust）。後文還有“齊到腳踝的塵土”“滿是灰塵（dusty）的黑衣服、盡是塵土的灰色面孔”“終于又在路旁的塵土中坐了下去”。為什麼多次強調“塵土？”

①從實際意義來看，“塵土”是戰争來臨時民衆大逃亡的必然産物。（不僅民衆逃亡會有塵土，發起戰争也會有，君不聞“耶娘妻子走相送，塵埃不見鹹陽橋”？一顆顆的塵埃，就是一滴滴的眼淚！）逃亡的人多，步履匆匆；逃亡的車多，車輪滾滾，路上堆積的灰塵“齊到腳踝”，衣服上當然“盡是塵土”。為什麼不撣掉？沒力氣，路都走不動了命都不逃了，還操心塵土沾衣？沒必要，人流滾滾灰土漫天，撣幹淨馬上又髒掉。沒心思，不知道自己要去哪裡，不知道動物會怎麼樣。

②從抽象含義來說，“塵土”是戰争背景下人們身份地位的象征。命若微塵，在社會曆史的風雲突變中身不由己。“遺民淚盡胡塵裡”“零落成泥輾作塵”“九州胡馬闇塵埃”……塵埃是極細碎極微小極卑賤的東西，人遇上戰争，就不再有“人”的尊嚴“人”的自主“人”的意志，隻剩下那一顆顆随風飄散的塵埃。文末老人“終于又在路旁的塵土中坐了下去”，他被這塵埃包圍着，他被這塵埃同化了。“塵歸塵，土歸土”，這似乎也預示着老人兇多吉少的未來。

小小的塵土，大大的悲哀。

河上搭着一座浮橋（用船或者浮箱代替橋墩，浮在水面的橋。側面寫出搭建之倉促，撤退之突然，從而寫出戰争威脅之大。當然，也有可能這座橋早已有之，本身就是選用了浮橋的形式，簡單省事），大車、卡車、男人、女人和孩子們在湧過橋去。騾車從橋邊蹒跚地（因為負重，所以遲緩，行進艱難）爬上陡坡，一些士兵（這些士兵是來守土的還是去逃亡的？是向素不相識的人們伸出援手還是為“戰略轉移”的長官盡忠效力？海明威沒有說，他隻是客觀地看着）幫着推動輪輻。卡車嘎嘎地駛上斜坡就開遠了，把一切（包括曾經的生活、戰争的威脅，也包括要留下來面對戰争的士兵們和這些沒有車隻能靠雙腿的人們）抛在後面，而農夫們還在齊到腳踝的塵土中（這裡有點奇怪，塵土為什麼會齊到腳踝？惜字如金的海明威特意寫到這一不合常理之處，在暗示什麼？先賣個關子，後面再說。）踯躅（原文plodded，指沉重緩慢地走）着。但那個老人卻坐在那裡，一動也不動。他太累，走不動了。

這段中還有一句話裡有兩個地方要挑出來說一說，都與海明威的語言運用方式有關。

一處是“大車、卡車、男人、女人和孩子們”。以海明威簡潔凝練不贅餘的叙述風格，為什麼不直接寫“車與人”或者“車流和人潮”，而要不厭其煩地把車和人分開一樣樣寫？因為這樣寫有既視感。分開叙述，讓我們仿佛身臨其境，更能突出從浮橋上争相逃離時混亂擁擠的場面。

一處是“湧”。“湧”的本義是水由下向上冒出來，這裡當然是一種比喻，非常形象生動。你看，水之所以會從地下冒出來，是因為受到了壓力才能克服重力；車流人潮上浮橋前相對分散，過浮橋必定要緊緊擠在一起——加壓了，所以在橋的另一頭壓力突然釋放，就“湧”出來了。這個動詞用的好不好，秒不秒？

若是學生用了這個動詞，我一定會說用得好，用得秒。 放到海明威身上，我覺得就有問題了。

宏觀地看，海明威文筆清新自然不做作，追求文章的自然美，因此在寫作過程中很少用浮華的字眼去點綴描寫。具體到本文，開頭的白描客觀展示了故事背景，沒有任何修飾性詞彙和修辭手法。那這裡突然冒出一個“湧”字，就令人生疑了。這次會不會是翻譯的鍋？看看原文：“carts, trucks, and men, women and children were crossing it.”

An old man with steel rimmed spectacles and very dusty clothes sat by the side of the road. There was a pontoon bridge across the river and carts, trucks, and men, women and children were crossing it. The mule-drawn carts staggered up the steep bank from the bridge with soldiers helping push against the spokes of the wheels. The trucks ground up and away heading out of it all and the peasants plodded along in the ankle deep dust. But the old man sat there without moving. He was too tired to go any farther.
It was my business to cross the bridge, explore the bridgehead beyond and find out to what point the enemy had advanced. I did this and returned over the bridge. There were not so many carts now and very few people on foot, but the old man was still there.

"Where do you come from?" I asked him.
"From San Carlos," he said, and smiled.

That was his native town and so it gave him pleasure to mention it and he smiled.

"I was taking care of animals," he explained.
"Oh," I said, not quite understanding.
"Yes," he said, "I stayed, you see, taking care of animals. I was the last one to leave the town of San Carlos."

He did not look like a shepherd nor a herdsman and I looked at his black dusty clothes and his gray dusty face and his steel rimmed spectacles and said, "What animals were they?"
"Various animals," he said, and shook his head. "I had to leave them."

I was watching the bridge and the African looking country of the Ebro Delta and wondering how long now it would be before we would see the enemy, and listening all the while for the first noises that would signal that ever mysterious event called contact, and the old man still sat there.

"What animals were they?" I asked.
"There were three animals altogether," he explained. "There were two goats and a cat and then there were four pairs of pigeons."
And you had to leave them?" I asked.
"Yes. Because of the artillery. The captain told me to go because of the artillery."
"And you have no family?" I asked, watching the far end of the bridge where a few last carts were hurrying down the slope of the bank.
"No," he said, "only the animals I stated. The cat, of course, will be all right. A cat can look out for itself, but I cannot think what will become of the others."
"What politics have you?" I asked.
"I am without politics," he said. "I am seventy-six years old. I have come twelve kilometers now and I think now I can go no further."
"This is not a good place to stop," I said. "If you can make it, there are trucks up the road where it forks for Tortosa."
"I will wait a while," he said, " and then I will go. Where do the trucks go?"
"Towards Barcelona," I told him.
"I know no one in that direction," he said, "but thank you very much. Thank you again very much."

He looked at me very blankly and tiredly, and then said, having to share his worry with someone, "The cat will be all right, I am sure. There is no need to be unquiet about the cat. But the others. Now what do you think about the others?"
"Why they'll probably come through it all right."
"You think so?"
"Why not," I said, watching the far bank where now there were no carts.
"But what will they do under the artillery when I was told to leave because of the artillery?"
"Did you leave the dove cage unlocked?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Then they'll fly."
"Yes, certainly they'll fly. But the others. It's better not to think about the others," he said.
"If you are rested I would go," I urged. "Get up and try to walk now."
"Thank you," he said and got to his feet, swayed from side to side and then sat down backwards in the dust.
"I was taking care of animals," he said dully, but no longer to me. "I was only taking care of animals."

There was nothing to do about him. It was Easter Sunday and the Fascists were advancing toward the Ebro. It was a gray overcast day with a low ceiling so their planes were not up. That and the fact that cats know how to look after themselves was all the good luck that old man would ever have.