-*-
68
我觉得，在他的工作环境里，彼得罗很显然被人认为是一个很乏味的人。他和他家人完全不同，他家其他人都充满热情地参与时政，他是艾罗塔家的一个失败者。我也认同这种看法，这对于我们的共同生活和我们的私密关系没什么好处。黛黛最后终于平静下来了，她的作息变得规律，彼得罗又回到了我们的婚床上，但他一靠近我，就会让我很厌烦，我担心又一次怀孕，我想安宁地睡觉，我默默推开了他，我转过身去，假如他还坚持，用他的身体顶着我的睡衣，我会用脚后跟，轻轻踢他的腿，想让他明白：我不想要，我很困。彼得罗很不高兴地停了下来，起身去学习了。
It was evident to me now that Pietro, at
the university, was considered a dull man, very remote from the keen activism
of his family, an unsuccessful Airota. And I shared that opinion, something
that did not help our life in common or our intimate relations. When Dede
finally settled down and began to sleep regularly, he returned to our bed,
but as soon as he approached me I felt irritated, I was afraid of getting
pregnant again, I wanted him to let me sleep. So I pushed him away,
wordlessly, or simply turned my back, and if he insisted and pressed his sex
against my nightgown, I hit his leg gently with my heel, a signal: I don’t
want to, I’m sleepy. Pietro retreated unhappily, he got up and went to his
study.
一天晚上，关于克莱利亚的问题，我们又进行了争论——关于这个问题，我们已经争论过无数次了。每次要给她付钱时，气氛就会有些紧张，但那一次很明显，克莱利亚只是一个借口。他小声嘟囔着说：“埃莱娜，我们要谈一谈我们之间的关系，找到一个平衡点。”我马上表示同意，我对他说，我欣赏他的智慧还有教养，黛黛也是一个好宝贝。但我接着说，我不想要其他孩子，我现在的孤立状态让我很难忍受，我渴望回到之前那种活跃的生活里去，我从小都在努力学习，并不是想把自己封闭起来，只是扮演妻子和母亲的角色。我们谈了很久，我很强硬，他彬彬有礼。他不再为保姆的事抗议了，并做出了让步，他决定去买避孕套，开始邀请朋友——他没有朋友，说得准确一点，是他认识的人——来家里吃晚饭。尽管街上的血腥事件越来越多了，他同意我带着黛黛一起去参加会议，还有游行。
One night we argued yet again about
Clelia. There was always some tension when we had to pay her, but on that
occasion it was clear that Clelia was an excuse. He said somberly: Elena, we
have to examine our relationship and take stock. I agreed immediately. I told
him that I adored his intelligence and his civility, that Dede was marvelous,
but I added that I didn’t want more children, I found the isolation I had
ended up in unbearable, I wanted to return to an active life, I hadn’t slaved
since childhood just to be imprisoned in the roles of wife and mother. We
talked, I bitterly, he with courtesy. He stopped protesting about Clelia, he
gave in. He decided to buy condoms, he began to invite friends or, rather,
acquaintances—he didn’t have any friends—to dinner, he resigned himself to my
going sometimes with Dede to meetings and demonstrations, in spite of the
increasingly frequent violence in the streets.
但是，这种新的生活方式并没有让我的生活变得更好，而是让我的生活更加复杂。黛黛和克莱利亚越来越亲了，我带她出去，她会很厌烦，会发脾气，会拽我的耳朵、头发和鼻子，她会一边哭，一边嚷嚷着要克莱利亚。我确信，她更愿意和那个来自马雷玛的姑娘在一起，而不是和我在一起。这让我产生了一种怀疑：因为我没给她喂奶，让她生命的第一年很艰难，在她的眼里，我是一个阴暗的形象，一个自私暴躁的女人，随时都会骂她，我嫉妒她的保姆的开朗性格，我对她的保姆——那个陪她玩儿，给她讲故事的女孩很凶恶。甚至是我在用手帕给她擦鼻涕，或者嘴上食物残渣时，她也会机械地推开我，她会哭，说我弄疼她了。
But that new course, rather than
improving my life, complicated it. Dede became more attached to Clelia and
when I took her out she was bored, she got upset, she pulled my ears, my
hair, my nose, tearfully begging for her. I was convinced that she was happier
with the girl from the Maremma than with me, and the suspicion returned that
because I hadn’t breast-fed her and her first year of life had been hard, I
was now a dark figure in her eyes, the mean woman who was constantly scolding
her, and who, out of jealousy, mistreated her cheerful nanny, a playmate, a
storyteller. She pushed me away even when with a mechanical gesture I wiped
the snot off her nose with a handkerchief or the remains of food off her
mouth. She cried, she said I was hurting her.
至于彼得罗，避孕套让他的感觉更加不敏锐，要达到高潮，用的时间比之前还要长，他觉得痛苦，也让我更难受。有时候，我让他从后面来，我感觉这样疼痛会减少一点。当他猛烈撞击着我的时候，我抓住了他的一只手，把它拉到我的身上，期望他能抚摸我，但他好像不能同时做两样事情，他喜欢前面的部分，马上就忘了后面的事情。他心满意足之后，好像没法觉察到，我渴望他身体的任何一个部位来满足我。他享受完之后，会抚摸着我的头发，低声说：“我去干会儿活。”他离开之后，我觉得，寂寞是一种安慰和奖赏。
As for Pietro, the condoms dulled his
sensitivity even more, and it took him even longer to reach orgasm, which
made him suffer, and made me suffer. Sometimes I made him take me from
behind, I had the impression that it was less painful, and while he dealt
those violent blows I grabbed his hand and brought it to my sex hoping he
would understand that I wanted to be caressed. But he seemed incapable of
doing both things, and since he preferred the first he almost immediately
forgot the second, nor, once satisfied, did he seem to understand that I
wanted some part of his body to consummate, in turn, my desire. After he had
had his pleasure he caressed my hair, and whispered, I’ll work a little. When
he left, the solitude seemed to me a consolation prize.
有时候，在游行的队伍里，我用好奇的眼光看着那些年轻的男人。他们很无畏，能面对任何风险，充满了喜悦的能量，当他们发现自己受到威胁时，会变得咄咄逼人。我能感受到他们的魅力，我感到那种热度在吸引着我。但我觉得，我和那些围绕着他们的女孩子完全不同，我读了太多书，戴着眼镜，已经结婚了，而且也没有时间。这样，我回到家里，感觉更不开心，我对丈夫很冷淡，我感觉自己已经老了。有几次，我睁着眼睛做梦，我想象着这些年轻男人中的一个——在佛罗伦萨很有名、很受崇拜的那个，他会发现我，会把我拉过去，就像我还是小姑娘时，我觉得自己笨手笨脚的，不想跳舞，安东尼奥或者帕斯卡莱拉着我的胳膊强迫我跳舞。自然，我和那些男孩子之间，什么事儿也没发生，但彼得罗带到家里的那些人，给我带来了很多麻烦。我埋头给他们做晚饭，还要扮演一个活跃的女主人形象，找话题和他们聊天，我没有什么好抱怨的，这是我提出的要求，是我让丈夫带人回家吃饭。但我很快意识到，我很不自在地发现，那些聚餐不仅仅是聚餐，我会被任何一个关注我的男人所吸引：高的矮的，胖的瘦的，丑的帅的，老的年轻的，结婚的没结婚的，假如一个男人认同我的观点，假如他记得我的书，还说了赞美的话，假如他为我的智慧感到兴奋，我会用很热切的目光看着他，在很短的时间里，一来二去，他会觉得我对他有意思。这时候，这个男人会从开始的乏味无聊，变得很活泼，最后会彻底忽视彼得罗的存在而对我倍加关注。他说的每句话，每个动作会变得暧昧，和我交谈时会越来越亲密。他会用指尖触碰我的肩膀，或者碰我的一只手，用眼睛注视着我的眼睛，发出一些感叹，他的膝盖会碰到我的膝盖，脚尖碰到我的脚尖。
Sometimes, at the demonstrations, I
observed with curiosity the young men who exposed themselves fearlessly to
every danger, who were charged with a joyful energy even when they felt
threatened and became threatening. I felt their fascination, I was attracted
by that fever heat. But I considered myself remote in every way from the
bright girls who surrounded them, I was too cultured, wore glasses, was
married, my time was always limited. I returned home unhappy, I treated my
husband coldly, I felt I was already old. A few times I daydreamed that one
of those young men—he was well known in Florence, very popular—noticed me and
dragged me away, as when, in adolescence, I felt clumsy and wouldn’t dance,
but Antonio or Pasquale would take me by the arm and force me. Naturally it
never happened. Rather, it was the acquaintances Pietro began to bring home
who created complications. I labored to prepare dinners, I played the wife
who can keep the conversation interesting, and I didn’t complain, I had asked
my husband to invite people. But I soon perceived, uneasily, that that ritual
was not complete in itself: I was attracted by any man who gave me the
slightest encouragement. Tall, short, thin, fat, ugly, handsome, old, married
or a bachelor, if the guest praised an observation of mine, if he had nice
things to say about my book, if he grew excited by my intelligence, I looked
at him cordially and in a brief exchange of phrases and glances my
availability communicated itself. Then the man, bored at the start, became
lively, ignoring Pietro, redoubling his attentions to me. His words grew more
allusive, and his gestures, his attitude in the course of conversation gained
intimacy. With his fingertips he grazed my shoulder, my hand, looked into my
eyes formulating sentimental phrases, touched my knees with his, the tips of
my shoes with his shoes.
在这种时刻，我都会感觉很好，我会忘记彼得罗和黛黛的存在，还有与他们相伴的那些非常乏味的义务。我只是担心客人走了之后，我又会陷入这个灰暗的家里，时间一天天白白流逝，我感到慵懒，还有温柔背后的愤怒。因此我有些夸张，兴奋感让我说话的声音越来越大，我跷起二郎腿，让腿尽可能露出来，我用一个不经意的动作，解开衬衣的一只扣子。是我主动拉近自己和客人的距离，就好像我的一部分确信，通过这种方式贴近那个陌生人，我会感到舒服一点儿。这样，在他离开这所房子时——单独离开，或者和他的妻子或者女伴离开，这种舒服的感觉会在我的身体里保留一阵子，我就不会觉得那么抑郁，我就不会感受到表露了情感和思想之后的虚空，还有对失败的焦虑。
At those moments I felt good, I forgot
the existence of Pietro and Dede, the wake of boring obligations they
trailed. I feared only the moment when the guest would leave and I would fall
back into the dreariness of my house: pointless days, idleness, rage
concealed behind meekness. So I went overboard: excitement goaded me to talk
too much and too loudly, I crossed my legs, hiking up my skirt as far as
possible, with a careless gesture I unfastened a button on my shirt. It was I
who shortened the distances, as if a part of me were convinced that, if in
some way I clung to that stranger, some of the well-being I felt at that
moment would remain in my body, and when he had left the apartment, along
with his wife or companion, I would feel the depression, the emptiness behind
the display of feelings and ideas, the anguish of failure.
实际上，吃完晚饭之后，我一个人躺在床上，这时候彼得罗在学习，我会觉得自己非常愚蠢，我鄙视我自己。尽管我很努力，但我还是没办法改变自己。那些男人确信我爱上了他们，通常会在第二天打电话给我，会找借口跟我见面，我会答应。但当我到达约会的地方，我会感觉很害怕。他们兴奋起来了，这个简单的事实都会让我受不了。比如说，一个比我大三十岁的人，或者是结了婚的人，他们对我动了心思，这个事实就会抹去他们的权威，抹去我赋予他们的拯救者的身份。我在诱惑过程中感受到的快感，最后就成了一种令人羞耻的错误。我很迷惘地问自己：到底发生了什么？我为什么要这么做？结果是，我就会更关注黛黛和彼得罗。
In reality, afterward, alone in bed while
Pietro studied, I felt simply stupid and despised myself. But however I tried
I couldn’t change myself. Especially because those men were convinced they
had made an impression and generally called the next day, invented excuses to
see me again. I accepted. But as soon as I arrived at the appointment I was
frightened. The simple fact that they were excited, although they were, let’s
say, thirty years older or were married, canceled their authority, canceled
the savior role I had assigned them, and the very pleasure I had felt during
the game of seduction was a shameful mistake. I asked myself in bewilderment:
Why did I behave like that, what’s happening to me? I paid more attention to
Dede and Pietro.
但一有机会，我就会重新开始。我不读书，也不写作，我充满想象，我会把音乐声开得很大，听我小时候不知道的音乐。尤其让我越来越懊恼的事情是，之前我在任何事情上都很自律，我享受不到那种放浪形骸的快乐。那些和我年纪相仿的，和我生活环境相似的女人，她们都展示出的很享受当下，也让别人很享受的状态。比如说，有几次马丽娅罗莎出现在佛罗伦萨，她有时候是来做研究，有时候是来参加政治会议的，她会来我们这里住。她每次带的男人都不一样，有时候是带女朋友过来，她会吸毒，也会让她的同伴和我们吸。这时候，彼得罗会黑着脸把自己关在书房里。我却被她迷住了，我当然不会尝试吸烟或者是迷幻剂，我很害怕会不舒服，但我会在客厅里，和她以及她的那些朋友聊到很晚。
But at the first chance it all started
again. I fantasized, I listened at high volume to the music I had been
ignorant of as a girl, I didn’t read, I didn’t write. And I felt increasingly
regretful that, because of my self-discipline in everything, I had missed the
joy of letting go that the women of my age, of the milieu I now lived in,
made a show of having enjoyed and enjoying. Whenever Mariarosa, for example,
appeared in Florence, sometimes for research, sometimes for political
meetings, she came to stay with us, always with different men, sometimes with
girlfriends, and she took drugs, and offered them to her companions and to
us, and if Pietro darkened and shut himself in his study, I was fascinated,
and though hesitant to try smoking or LSD—I was afraid I would feel sick—I
stayed to talk to her and her friends until late into the night.
他们什么话都说，有时候充满暴力。我感觉，我从小努力学到的优美语言，现在已经不合时宜了，太讲究，太干净了。看看马丽娅罗莎现在的语言变成什么样儿了，我想，她突破了自己受的教育，她完全放开了。彼得罗的姐姐在表达自己的时候，要比我和莉拉小时候说的话还要粗鲁。她每说一句话，前面都要加一个“操！”：“操！我把打火机放哪儿了？”“操！我的烟呢。”莉拉一直都是这样说话的，我该怎么办呢？变得和她一样，回到出发点？那么，为什么我当初要费那么大的力气呢？
They talked about everything; often the
exchanges were violent, and I had the impression that the good language I had
struggled to acquire had become inadequate. Too neat, too clean. Look how
Mariarosa’s language has changed, I thought, she’s broken with her
upbringing, she’s got a dirty mouth. Pietro’s sister now expressed herself
more vulgarly than Lila and I had as girls. She didn’t utter a noun that
wasn’t preceded by “fucking.” Where did I put that fucking match, where are
the fucking cigarettes. Lila had never stopped talking like that; so what was
I supposed to do, become like her again, go back to the starting point? Then
why had I worn myself out?
我看着我的大姑子，我喜欢和她之间建立的亲密关系，也喜欢看着她让她弟弟很尴尬的做法，还有她带到家里的那些男人。有一天晚上，她忽然不说话了，她对那个陪她的年轻男人说：“够了，我们去干一X吧。”干。一直以来彼得罗在说这件事情时，用的是一个好人家的孩子隐射的暗语，我马上就采用了他的说法，用来取代我小时候方言里那个龌龊的词汇。但现在，我真的感觉世道变了，要把那些肮脏的词汇说出来，要说我想让你操我，我们这样或那样干？我无法想象我丈夫会说这些话，那些少数和我来往的男人，他们都非常有教养，但他们都很乐意假装成粗人，他们和那些假装自己是妓女的女人玩得兴致勃勃，好像他们很享受把一位太太当婊子对待。刚开始，他们都很正式、克制，但他们迫不及待地开始争论，要把那些不说的话变成可以说的，后来不停地说，这成了一种自由的游戏。女性的矜持被认为是虚伪和愚蠢的标志，要坦白直接，这才是被解放的女性应该表现出来的品质。我要尽量顺应这一点，我越是适应，就越觉得被吸引，有几次，我感觉自己恋爱了。
I observed my sister-*-law. I liked how
she displayed solidarity with me and embarrassed her brother, instead, and
the men she brought home. One night she abruptly interrupted the conversation
to say to the young man with her: enough, let’s go fuck. Fuck. Pietro had
invented a well-*-class, were amused by women who acted like sluts, and
seemed to enjoy treating a woman like a whore. At first these men were very
formal, they controlled themselves. But they couldn’t wait to start a
skirmish that moved from the unsaid to the said, to the more explicitly said,
in a game of freedom where female shyness was considered a sign of
hypocritical foolishness. Candor, rather, immediacy: these were the qualities
of the liberated woman, and I made an effort to live up to them. But the more
I did, the more I felt enthralled by my interlocutor. A couple of times it
seemed to me that I was falling in love.
-*-
69
我先是和一个教古希腊文学的助教暧昧，他和我同龄，是阿斯蒂人，他有一个女朋友在他老家，他说他对这个女朋友很不满意。然后，我和一个研究纸莎草文献的、不在编制之内的女教师的丈夫也发生了一段故事。她在卡塔尼亚，而丈夫在佛罗伦萨，他们有两个小孩子。他叫马里奥，是一个工程师，教机械学，他对政治的了解很全面，很有权威，长头发，空闲时间在一个摇滚乐队做键盘手，他比我大七岁。我和这两个男人的故事，过程是一样的：彼得罗邀请他们来吃晚饭，我对他们卖弄风情，之后是电话联系，一起参加活动，长时间散步，看电影，有时候是和黛黛，有时候我一个人去。那个古希腊文学助教刚把话挑明，我就退缩了。但马里奥却让我无法逃脱，有一天晚上，在他的车子里，他吻了我，吻了很长时间，他抚摸了我内衣下的乳房。我很难推开他，我说，我再也不想见到他了，但他还是给我打电话，不停地打，说他想念我，我做出了让步。他已经吻了我，摸了我，他觉得自己有权继续上次做的事，他一再坚持，充满渴望地提议。我一方面诱惑他，另一方面我笑着抽身而出，他假装生气了，我也生气了。
It happened first with a lecturer in
Greek literature, a man of my age, originally from Asti, who had in his home
town a fiancée with whom he said he was unhappy; then with the husband of a
temporary lecturer in papyrology, a couple with two small children, she from
Catania, he from Florence, an engineer who taught mechanics, named Mario, who
was seven years older than me. He had an extensive political education, a lot
of authority in public, long hair, and in his spare time he played drums in a
rock band. With both, the routine was the same: Pietro invited them to
dinner, I began to flirt. Phone calls, carefree participation in
demonstrations, many walks, sometimes with Dede, sometimes alone, and
occasional movies. With the Greek lecturer I retreated as soon as he became
explicit. But Mario trapped me in a tightening net and one evening, in his
car, he kissed me, he kissed me for a long time and, putting his hands in my
bra, caressed my breasts. I pushed him away with difficulty, I said I didn’t
want to see him anymore. But he called, he called again, I missed him, I gave
in. Since he had kissed me and touched me, he was sure he had some rights and
behaved immediately as if we were starting up again from the point where we
had left off. He insisted, proposed, demanded. When I, on the one hand, led
him on and, on the other, dodged him, laughing, he got offended, he offended
me.
有一天早上，我和他还有黛黛一起散步。我记得，黛黛当时有两岁多一点，她非常专注地玩她的玩偶，她很喜爱那个玩偶，给它起了个名字叫做苔丝。在当时的情况下，我不是很关注她，我沉浸于自己的语言游戏里，时不时会忘记她的存在。至于马里奥，他全然不顾孩子的存在，他一心想跟我说一些肆无忌惮的话。他会在黛黛的耳边，开玩笑小声说出这样的话：“拜托了，能不能告诉你妈妈，要她对我好一些？”时间过得飞快，我们后来分开了，我和黛黛走在回家的路上。没走几步，小姑娘就尖刻地说：“苔丝跟我说，它会告诉爸爸一个秘密。”我的心跳简直要停了。苔丝？是的。它会告诉爸爸什么秘密？苔丝知道。是好事儿还是坏事儿？坏事儿。我威胁她说：“你跟苔丝说，假如它把这事儿告诉爸爸，我会把它锁在黑漆漆的更衣室里。”她哭了起来，我本应该抱着她回家的，但她为了让我高兴，就一直走着，假装一点儿也不累。因此黛黛明白，或者至少能感觉到，我和那个男人之间，有某种她父亲无法容忍的东西。
One morning I was walking with him and
Dede, who, if I remember, was a little over two and was completely absorbed
by a beloved doll, Tes, a name she had invented. In the circumstances, I was
paying scarcely any attention to her, carried away by the verbal game, and
sometimes I forgot about her completely. As for Mario, he gave no importance
to the child’s presence, he was interested only in keeping after me, with his
uninhibited talk, and he turned to Dede to whisper playfully in her ear
things like: Please, will you tell your mamma to be nice to me? The time
flew, we parted, Dede and I headed home. But after a few steps the child said
harshly: Tes told me she has a secret to tell Papa. My heart stopped in my
chest. Tes? And what will she tell Papa? Tes knows. Something good or bad?
Bad. I threatened her: You explain to Tes that if she reports that thing to
Papa you will lock her up in the storeroom, in the dark. She burst into
tears, and I had to carry her home: she who, to please me, would walk and
walk, pretending that she never got tired. Dede understood, therefore, or at
least perceived, that between that man and me there was something that her
father wouldn’t tolerate.
我又一次中断了和马里奥的来往。从根本上来说，他到底什么什么人呢？一个沉迷于色欲的资产阶级。我还是感到不安分，我内心那种出轨的欲望在增长，我想突破我自己，当时整个世界好像都在打破规则。我渴望能从我的婚姻里走出去，至少一次也行。啊！为什么不呢，我要摆脱我生活中的所有事情，摆脱我学到的、写过的、将要写的东西，还有我带到这个世界上的孩子。啊，是的，婚姻是一个牢笼。莉拉是充满勇气的人，她是冒着生命危险挣脱了这个牢笼。我能冒什么风险呢？彼得罗总是不在，总是那么漫不经心。我没有任何风险，能发生什么呢？我给马里奥打了电话，我把黛黛托付给克莱利亚，我去他的工作室找他。我们接吻了，他吻了我的乳头，抚摸了我的双腿之间，就好像很多年前，安东尼奥在池塘边做的。但当他脱下裤子，内裤落到膝盖那里，他抓住我的后脖子，想进一步推进，这时候我挣脱了。我说不！我整理了一下衣服，落荒而逃。
I again broke off the meetings with
Mario. What was he, in the end? A middle-class man who liked pornographic
wordplay. But I couldn’t control my restlessness, an eagerness for violation
was growing in me, I wanted to break the rules, as the entire world seemed to
be breaking the rules. I wanted, even just once, to break out of marriage,
or, why not, everything in my life, what I had learned, what I had written,
what I was trying to write, the child I had brought into the world. Ah yes,
marriage was a prison: Lila, who had courage, had escaped at risk of her very
life: and what risks did I run with Pietro, so distracted, so absent? None.
So? I called Mario. I left Dede to Clelia, I went to his office. We kissed,
he sucked my nipples, he touched me between the legs as Antonio had at the
ponds years before. But when he pulled down his pants and, with his
underpants at his knees, grabbed me by the neck and tried to push me against
his sex I wriggled free, said no, put myself in order, and rushed away.
回到家里，我非常激动，内心满满的负罪感。我和彼得罗做了爱，我充满了激情，从来都没有那么投入过，是我自己不让他戴避孕套。我想，我担心什么呢，我的月经马上要来了，不会发生什么事儿，但不希望发生的事却发生了，几个星期之内，我发现自己又怀孕了。
I returned home in great agitation,
filled with guilt. I made love with Pietro passionately, I had never felt so
rapt, it was I who said no to the condom. What am I worried about, I said to
myself, I’m near my period, nothing will happen. But it did happen. Within a
few weeks I found that I was pregnant again.
-*-
70
关于堕胎，跟彼得罗没什么好商量的：我再生一个孩子给他，他很高兴。但我很害怕再经历一次那个过程，单是听到怀孕这两个字，就让我胃疼。在电话里，阿黛尔提到了堕胎的事，但我马上就岔开话题，说了一些泛泛的话，比如说，黛黛需要一个伴儿，一个人长大是很孤单的事儿，最好给她生一个小弟弟，或者小妹妹。
With Pietro I didn’t even hint at
abortion—he was very happy that I was giving him another child—and, besides,
I myself was afraid of trying that route, the very word made my stomach hurt.
Adele mentioned abortion on the telephone, but I immediately avoided the
subject with stock phrases like: Dede needs company, growing up alone is
hard, it’s better for her to have a little brother or sister.
“那要写的书呢？”
“The book?”
“已经写得差不多了。”我说谎了。
“It’s going well,” I lied.
“你让我看看？”
“Will you let me read it?”
“当然了。”
“Of course.”
“我们大家都等着呢。”
“We’re all waiting.”
“我知道。”
“I know.”
我惊慌失措，在未假思索的情况下，我做出了一个惊人的举动，这让彼得罗，包括我自己都很惊讶。我给我母亲打电话，说我又怀孕了，我问她愿不愿来佛罗伦萨待一阵子。她嘟囔说，她不能来，她要照顾我父亲，还有几个弟弟妹妹。我对她嚷嚷着说：“这就意味着，因为你的缘故，我再也写不出东西了。”她回答说：“这关我屁事儿，你当个阔太太还不满意吗？”我把电话挂上了。但五分钟之后，埃莉莎给我打了电话。她说：“我照顾家里，妈妈明天出发。”
I was panic-stricken, almost without
thinking I made a move that astounded Pietro, maybe even me. I telephoned my
mother, I said I was expecting another child, I asked if she wanted to come
and stay in Florence for a while. She muttered that she couldn’t, she had to
take care of my father, of my siblings. I shouted at her: It’ll be your fault
if I don’t write anymore. Who gives a damn, she answered, isn’t it enough for
you to lead the life of a lady? And she hung up. But five minutes later Elisa
telephoned. I’ll take care of the household, she said, Mamma will leave
tomorrow.
彼得罗开着车去车站接我母亲，这让她觉得很骄傲，让她觉得自己备受爱戴。她一进家门，我就跟她立了一系列规矩：不要碰我的房间，还有彼得罗房间里的东西；不要惯着黛黛；不要介入我和我丈夫之间的事儿；要督促克莱利亚干活，但要和她和谐相处；要当我是一个外人，在任何情况下，都不要打扰我；有客人时，你要么待在厨房里，要么就待在你房间里。我确信，她不会遵守我说的任何一条，但在短短几天时间里，她成了一个非常忠诚的奴仆，就好像离开那不勒斯的家，让她的本性发生了变化。她安排家里的所有事，果断有效地解决各种问题，从来都没有搅扰到我和彼得罗。
Pietro picked up my mother at the station
in the car, which made her proud, made her feel loved. As soon as she set
foot in the house I listed a series of rules: Don’t move anything around in
Pietro’s study or mine; don’t spoil Dede; don’t interfere between me and my
husband; supervise Clelia without fighting with her; stay in the kitchen or
your room if I have guests. I was resigned to the idea that she wouldn’t
respect any of those rules, but instead, as if the fear of being sent away
had modified her nature, she became within a few days a devoted servant who
provided for every necessity of the house and resolved every problem
decisively and efficiently without ever disturbing me or Pietro.
她时不时会回一趟那不勒斯，她不在的时候，我感觉很多事情都难以应对，我担心她再也不回来了，但她还是回来了。她对我讲了城区的新闻（卡门怀孕了，玛丽莎生了一个儿子，吉耀拉给米凯莱·索拉拉生了第二个儿子。为了避免冲突，她绝口不提莉拉的事儿），之后她就成了家里一个幽灵一样的人物，她把所有人的衣服洗得干干净净，熨得平平整整，做好我小时候爱吃的饭菜，整个房子总是干净整齐，一打乱她就会马上收拾好。彼得罗又一次想着解雇克莱利亚，我母亲表示同意。我很生气，但我没和我丈夫吵架，反倒对着我母亲发脾气，她钻到她的房间里，也不回嘴。彼得罗责备了我，他努力让我和我母亲和好，我们俩也顺水推舟。他很欣赏我的母亲，他说我母亲是一个聪明的女人，他经常在厨房里和她做伴，在吃完晚饭之后和她聊天。黛黛叫她外婆，她跟外婆关系那么亲密，以至于克莱利亚出现时，她都会有些不耐烦。好了，我想，一切都安排好了，我没有借口了，我强迫自己专注写书。
From time to time she went to Naples and
her absence immediately made me feel exposed to chance, I was afraid she
would never return. But she always did. She told me the news of the
neighborhood (Carmen was pregnant, Marisa had had a boy, Gigliola was giving
Michele Solara a second child; she said nothing about Lila, to avoid
conflict) and then she became a kind of invisible household spirit who
insured for all of us clean, ironed clothes, meals that tasted of childhood,
an apartment that was always tidy, an orderliness that, as soon as it was
disturbed, was put back in order with a maniacal punctuality. Pietro thought
of trying again to get rid of Clelia and my mother was in agreement. I got
angry, but instead of raging at my husband I lost my temper with her, and she
withdrew into her room without responding. Pietro reproached me and made an
effort to reconcile us quickly. He adored her, he said she was a very
intelligent woman, and he would sit in the kitchen with her after dinner,
chatting. Dede called her Grandma and grew so attached to her that she was
irritated when Clelia appeared. Now, I said to myself, everything is in
order, now you have no excuses. And I forced myself to focus on the book.
我看着自己记的那些笔记，我确信，我应该改变路线。我想把那些被弗朗科定义为“小情小爱”的故事抛之于脑后，我要写一些贴近现实的东西：广场上的示威游行、暴力、死亡、警察的镇压，还有对于军政府的恐惧。我很不情愿地写了十几页，就没有后文了。我到底缺少什么东西？很难说。也许是那不勒斯、我们的城区，或许是一个像《蓝色仙女》那样的意象，或者是激情，一个能够指引我、赋予我权威的声音。我待在写字台前，时间白白过去，我会翻阅一些小说，但我从来都不从房间里出去，我很害怕黛黛会缠住我。我感觉真是很不幸福，我听到孩子在走廊里的叫喊，克莱利亚的声音，还有我母亲一瘸一拐的脚步声。我撩起裙子，看着我已经开始隆起的小腹，全身感觉到一种快意，我第二次觉得充盈，但同时也觉得虚空。
I looked at my notes again. I was
absolutely convinced that I had to change course. I wanted to leave behind me
what Franco had called petty love affairs and write something suited to a
time of demonstrations, violent deaths, police repression, fears of a coup
d’état. I couldn’t get beyond a dozen inert pages. What was missing, then? It
was hard to say. Naples, maybe, the neighborhood. Or an image like the Blue
Fairy. Or a passion. Or an authoritative voice that would direct me. I sat at
the desk for hours, in vain, I leafed through novels, I never went out of the
room for fear of being captured by Dede. How unhappy I was. I heard the voice
of the child in the hall, Clelia’s, my mother’s limping step. I lifted my
skirt, I looked at the belly that was already starting to grow, spreading an
undesired well-being through my whole organism. I was for the second time
pregnant and yet empty.
-*-
71
那段时间，我开始给莉拉打电话，但不像之前那样偶尔给她打一个电话，而是每天都打。我给她打非常昂贵的长途电话，唯一的目的就是想躲在她的影子里，让怀孕的时间过去，我希望她像之前一样能激起我的想象力。当然，我非常小心，从来都不说那些不该说的话，我希望她也一样。我很清楚，事到如今，假如我们的友情要继续下去，那我们都要管住自己的嘴。比如说，我不能告诉她我内心阴暗的一面：我担心即使是远距离，她也能带来灾难，还有我有时候希望她真病了，会死去。比如说，她不能告诉我，她经常那么粗鲁地对待我的真实原因。因此，我们只是谈一谈詹纳罗，他在上小学，已经是学校里学习最好的学生之一；还有黛黛，她已经学会认字了。我们就像两个普通母亲一样，为自己的孩子感到自豪。或者，我跟她聊一聊我在写作上的尝试，但从来都不会夸大其词。我只是说：“我在写呢，这事儿没有那么简单，怀孕了之后，我的精力没那么充沛了。”或者我试着搞清楚，米凯莱是不是还在围着她转，就是让她说一说自己的事儿，跟她多聊一会儿。或者有时候，我会问她喜不喜欢电影或电视里的某些演员，想促使她告诉我，那些和恩佐不同的男人会不会吸引她，我想跟她说，我自己也受到一些和彼得罗不同的男人的吸引。但我觉得，她对最后一个话题不感兴趣。对于我提到的那些演员，她总是会说：“谁啊？我在电视和电影里从来都没有见过。”如果我提到恩佐，她就会开始跟我说起计算机的事情，会冒出来很多我根本不懂的术语，让我一头雾水。
It was then that I began telephoning
Lila, not sporadically, as I had until then, but almost every day. I made the
expensive intercity calls with the sole purpose of crouching in her shadow,
letting my pregnancy run its course, hoping that, in line with an old habit,
she would set my imagination in motion. Naturally I was careful not to say
the wrong things, and I hoped that she wouldn’t, either. I knew clearly, now,
that our friendship was possible only if we controlled our tongues. For
example, I couldn’t confess to her that a dark part of me feared that she was
casting an evil spell on me from afar, that that part still hoped that she
was really sick and would die. For example, she couldn’t tell me the real
reasons that motivated the rough, often offensive, tone in which she treated
me. So we confined ourselves to talking about Gennaro, who was one of the
smartest children in the elementary school, about Dede, who already knew how
to read, and we did it like two mothers doing the normal boasting of mothers.
Or I mentioned my attempt to write, but without making a big deal of it, I
said only: I’m working, it’s not easy, being pregnant makes me tired. Or I
tried to find out if Michele was still hanging around her, to somehow capture
her and keep her. Or, sometimes, I would ask if she liked certain movie or
television actors, and urge her to tell me if men unlike Enzo attracted her,
and perhaps confide to her that it happened to me, too, that I was attracted
to men unlike Pietro. But this last subject didn’t seem to interest her. When
I mentioned an actor she always said: Who’s he, I’ve never seen him in the
movies or on television. And if I merely uttered the name of Enzo she began
updating me on the computer story, bewildering me with an incomprehensible
jargon.
那都是一些充满热情的交谈，有时候我觉得，她说的这些事，可能将来对我有用，在她说话时，我会记笔记。恩佐成功了，他现在在一家距离那不勒斯五十公里远的小工厂工作，那家工厂生产床上用品。那家工厂租赁了一台IBM机器，他在那里做程序员。你知道是什么工作吗？他要把那些工序变成程序。那台机器的主机有三个门的衣柜那么大，内存是8
kb，机子热得不得了。莱农，你简直无法想象：计算机比火炉还热，那都是极端抽象的东西，混合着汗水和臭气。她跟我谈到了铁酸盐内核，还有电缆穿过铁环，电压决定了旋转，0或1，一个环就是一个比特（bit），八个环一组代表了一个字节（byte）。一提到恩佐，莉拉就会说个没完没了。在这个领域，他是神一样的存在，他在一个安装着大空调的房间里，操作着这些语言，他就像一个英雄，他能让机器做所有人能做的事情。你能听懂吗？她时不时会问我。我很心虚地说，我懂，但我真不知道她在说什么。我感觉她也发现我一点儿也不懂，这让我很羞愧。
Her accounts were enthusiastic, and
occasionally, on the hypothesis that they might be useful to me in the
future, I took notes while she spoke. Enzo had made it, now he worked in an
underwear factory fifty kilometers from Naples. The company had rented an IBM
machine and he was the systems engineer. You know what kind of work that is?
He diagrams manual processes by transforming them into flow charts. The
central unit of the machine is as big as a wardrobe with three doors and it
has a memory of 8 kilobytes. You can’t imagine how hot it is, Lenù: the
computer is worse than a stove. Maximum abstraction along with sweat and a
terrible stink. She talked to me about ferrite cores, rings traversed by an
electrical cable whose tension determined the rotation, 0 or 1, and a ring
was a bit, and the total of eight rings could represent a byte, that is a
character. Enzo was the singular protagonist of Lila’s monologues. He
dominated all that material like a god, he manipulated the vocabulary and the
substance inside a large room with big air-conditioners, a hero who could
make the machine do everything that people did. Is that clear? she asked me
every so often. I answered yes, weakly, but I didn’t know what she was
talking about. I perceived only that she noticed that nothing was clear to
me, and I was ashamed of this.
在我打的这些长途电话中，她一次比一次热情高。恩佐现在每个月可以赚到十四万八千里拉，十四万八千！就是那么多，因为他很厉害，他是我遇到的最聪明的男人。他很能干，脑子很好使，很快就成了公司必不可少的人，恩佐让公司也雇用她作为他的助手。这就是最大的新闻：莉拉又开始工作了，这次她很喜欢自己的工作。她说，莱农，恩佐是领导，我是助理。我让我母亲照看詹纳罗。有时候，我甚至让斯特凡诺照看詹纳罗，我每天早上都去工厂。我和恩佐一点一点地研究这个公司，我们和那些职员的工作一样，我们研究要把什么东西输入电脑。我们做了很多突破，做那些财务动态，我们在发票上印标签，验证学徒的记录本、出勤的卡片，然后把所有东西都变成模式和卡片。是的，是的，我也做打孔的，我和其他女人一起做，他们给我八万里拉。十四万八千加上八万，我们俩一共挣二十二万八千里拉，莱农！我和恩佐现在是有钱人了，过几个月会更好，因为老板发现我很能干，想对我进行培训。你看我现在的生活，你高兴吗？
Her enthusiasm grew with every phone
call. Enzo was now earning a hundred and forty-*-eight. Because he was so
smart, the most intelligent man she had ever met. So smart, so clever, that
he had soon become indispensable and had managed to get her hired, as an
assistant. Here, this was the news: Lila was working again, and this time she
liked it. He’s the boss, Lenù, and I’m the deputy. I leave Gennaro with my
mother—sometimes even with Stefano—and I go to the factory every morning.
Enzo and I study the company point by point. We do everything the employees
do so we know what we have to put into the computer. We check off, I don’t
know, the transactions, we attach the stamps to the invoices, we check the
trainees’ cards, the time cards, and then we transform everything into
diagrams and holes in cards. Yes, yes, I’m also a punch-*-eight plus eighty
is two hundred and twenty-eight, Lenù. Enzo and I are rich, and it will be
even better in a few months, because the owner realized that I’m very capable
and wants me to take a course. You see what sort of life I have, are you
pleased?
-*-
72
有一天晚上，是她给我打的电话，她说她听到了一个糟糕的消息：达里奥被打死了，就在学校门口的耶稣广场上。达里奥是工会成员，就是她之前提到过的学生，在索卡沃工厂门前散发传单的那个男孩。
One night she was the one who telephoned,
she said she had just had some bad news: Dario, the student she had told me
about some time earlier, the kid from the committee who handed out leaflets
in front of the Soccavo factory, had been beaten to death, right outside of
school, in Piazza del Gesù.
我能感觉到，她非常担忧，她跟我谈到了笼罩在城区和整个城市的乌云，发生了很多暴力事件。她说这些斗殴事件的背后是法西斯分子吉诺，在吉诺的背后是米凯莱·索拉拉。她在提到这些名字时，充满了新仇旧怨，就好像在这些事背后，还有很多她没有说的事儿。我想：她怎么能那么确信这是他们干的？也许，她还跟法院路上的那些学生保持着联系，也许，她的生活不仅仅是和恩佐研究计算机。我一直在听她说话，没有打断她，她还像往常一样，把任何事情都讲得绘声绘色。她跟我说了很多细节，她说有一批黑衫党出动了，他们从小学对面的新法西斯党的分部出发，在雷蒂费洛区散开，来到了市政府广场，走上了沃美罗，他们用刀子和铁棍袭击了comrades。帕斯卡莱有两次也遭到了袭击，他们把他的门牙打掉了。有一天晚上，在大门口，恩佐和吉诺本人打了起来。
She seemed worried. She spoke of a black
cloud that lay oppressively on the neighborhood and the whole city, attacks
and more attacks. Behind many of these beatings, she said, were Gino’s
fascists, and behind Gino was Michele Solara, names that, in uttering, she
charged with old disgust, new rage, as if beneath what she said there was
much else about which she was silent. I thought: How can she be so sure that
they’re the ones responsible? Maybe she’s stayed in touch with the students
of Via dei Tribunali, maybe Enzo’s computers are not the only thing in her
life. I listened without interrupting while she let the words flow in her
usual gripping way. She told me in great detail about a number of expeditions
by the fascists, who started at the party headquarters opposite the
elementary school, spread up the Rettifilo, through Piazza Municipio, up the
Vomero, and attacked comrades with iron bars and knives. Even Pasquale had
been beaten a couple of times, his front teeth had been broken. And Enzo, one
night, had fought with Gino himself right in front of their house.
她停了下来，换了种语气。她问我，你记不记得，小时候我们城区的氛围？那时候更糟糕，可能同样可怕。她提到了她公公堂·阿奇勒，那个放高利贷的法西斯分子，还有佩卢索，那个木匠，那是发生在我们眼皮底下的事儿。从那时候开始，我们慢慢回到了那个时代，我想起一些细节，她提到另一些。最后，莉拉的句子越来越绘声绘色，她像小时候一样，讲起了堂·阿奇勒被杀的情景，里面有一些事实片段，也有很多是她的想象：阿奇勒的脖子上挨了一刀，血溅得很远，溅到了一面铜锅上面。像之前一样，她还是认为这不是那个木匠干的。她说，按照她的想法，当时的法律就像现在的法律一样，总是停留在表面上，所以判定是那个木匠干的。最后，她感叹说：“谁能保证这是卡门和帕斯卡莱的父亲干的呢？谁能说，那个凶手是一个男人还是女人？”就像我们小时候玩的游戏，我们简直是一唱一和的好搭档，我的声音也越来越兴奋，我感觉我们——以前的两个小姑娘，现在的两个成熟的女人——正在一起揭开二十多年来从未揭开的一个谜底。你想想，她说，那场谋杀，真正获利的人是谁，是谁取代堂·阿奇勒，成为放高利贷的头号人物？是呀，是谁？我们异口同声地得到了答案，唯一获利的是那个拿着红本子的女人——曼努埃拉·索拉拉，马尔切洛和米凯莱的母亲。是她杀死了堂·阿奇勒，我们很大声说，然后嘀咕着说——先是我，然后是她——有些沮丧地说：“我们到底在说什么？别说这些了，我们还是以前那两个小女孩，永远也长不大。”
Then she stopped, she changed her tone.
Do you remember, she asked, the atmosphere of the neighborhood when we were
little? It’s worse, or rather no, it’s the same. And she mentioned her
father-*-law, Don Achille Carracci, the loan shark, the Fascist, and Peluso,
the carpenter, the Communist, and the war taking place right before our eyes.
We slipped slowly back into those times, I remembered one detail, she
another. Until Lila accentuated the visionary quality of her phrases and
began to tell the story of the murder of Don Achille the way she had as a
girl, with many fragments of reality and many of imagination. The knife to
the neck, the spurting blood that had stained a copper pot. She ruled out, as
she had at the time, that it was the carpenter who killed him. She said, with
adult conviction: justice then, and today, for that matter, settled for the
most obvious trail, the one that led to the Communist. Then she exclaimed:
Who says it was really Carmen and Pasquale’s father? And who says it was a man
and not a woman? As in one of our childhood games, when it seemed to us that
we were in all ways complementary, I followed her step by step, adding my
voice excitedly to hers, and I had the impression that together—the girls of
the past and the adults of the present—we were arriving at a truth that for
two decades had been unspeakable. Think about it, she said, who really gained
from that murder, who ended up with the money-lending market that Don Achille
controlled? Yes, who? We found the answer in unison: the person who had
gotten something out of it was the woman with the red book, Manuela Solara,
the mother of Marcello and Michele. She killed Don Achille, we said
excitedly, and then, turning melancholy, said softly, first I, then she: but
what are we talking about, that’s enough, we’re still children, we’ll never
grow up.
-*-
73
最后，我终于感觉好一点儿了，已经有很长时间，我们没法达到默契，只是这次，我们是靠电话线传递的默契，我们已经很长时间没见面了。她没有看到我生完两个孩子之后的样子，我不知道，她是不是还跟以前一样苍白消瘦，或者体形已经发生了变化。这些年，我感觉自己是和一个脑子里的影像说话，她的声音不能完全代表这个影像。也许是因为这个缘故，忽然间，我觉得堂·阿奇勒的谋杀事件是一个精彩的故事，可以成为我新小说的核心。挂上电话之后，我马上就把我们交谈的内容整理在一起。我重新构建了莉拉提醒我的那些事儿，把过去和现在混合起来，从可怜的达里奥的被杀，到那个放高利贷的人的惨死，一直到曼努埃拉·索拉拉。我难以入睡，反复捉摸她说的那些事儿。我越来越清楚地觉得，我可以通过这些材料，讲述一个故事。在接下来的几天里，我一直在反思佛罗伦萨和那不勒斯，把现在动荡的局面和遥远的声音混合在一起。我想到我现在富裕舒适的生活，还有我之前为了摆脱我的出身所做的努力，对于失去眼前的一切的担忧，还有倒退回去的渴望，这些情感都混杂在一起。我翻来覆去想了很久，我越来越确信，我可以把这些事写成一本书。我非常费力地思考，同时勾起了很多痛苦的回忆，我在本上写满了笔记，构建了一个暴力的情节，把近二十年里的事都联系起来。莉拉有时候会打电话给我，她问我：
Finally the moment seemed auspicious, it
was a long time since we’d had our old harmony. Only this time the harmony
really was confined to a tangle of vibrating breaths along the telephone
wires. We hadn’t seen each other for a long time. She didn’t know what I
looked like after two pregnancies, I didn’t know if she was still pale and
very thin, or had changed. For several years I had been speaking to a mental
image that the voice was slowly reviving. Maybe for that reason, the murder
of Don Achille suddenly seemed like an invention, the core of a possible
story. And once I got off the telephone I tried to put order into our
conversation, reconstructing the passages on the basis of which Lila, fusing
past and present, had led me from the murder of poor Dario to that of the
loan shark, up to Manuela Solara. I had trouble sleeping, I pondered for a
long time. I felt with increasing lucidity that that material might be a
shore from which to lean out and grasp a story. In the following days I mixed
Florence with Naples, the tumults of the present with distant voices, the
comfort of now and the struggle I had had to pull myself out of my origins,
the anxiety of losing everything and the fascination of regression. As I
thought about it I became convinced that I could make a book out of it. With
great effort, with constant, painful second thoughts, I filled a graph-paper
notebook, constructing a web of violence that welded together the past twenty
years. Sometimes Lila telephoned, she asked:
“你怎么很长时间没打电话啊，你病了吗？”
“Why don’t you call anymore, aren’t you
well?”
“我很好，我在写东西。”
“I’m very well, I’m writing.”
“你写东西时，我就不存在了？”
“And when you write I no longer exist?”
“你存在啊，但会让我分心。”
“You exist but I’m distracted.”
“假如我病了，假如我需要你呢？”
“If I’m ill, if I need you?”
“你可以打电话给我。”
“Call.”
“假如我不打电话给你，你就一心想着你的小说？”
“And if I don’t telephone you stay inside
your novel?”
“是的。”
“Yes.”
“我嫉妒你，你真有福气。”
“I envy you, lucky you.”
我带着越来越不安的心情在写作，因为我担心孩子出生之前写不完，我担心自己分娩时会死去，留下一本没写完的书。这本书和我的第一本书那种随性而作完全不一样，非常艰难。我一写完草稿，就开始非常精心地修订。我希望用一种全新的、惊心动魄的、精心构造的混乱来写作，为此我义无反顾。在写第二遍时，我用一种细致入微的手法，每一行都改了又改。多亏我有一台奥利维蒂牌“Lettera
32”打字机，那是我在怀黛黛期间买的，亏得有复写纸，我把我的小说变成了三份打出来的稿子，每份几乎有两百页，没一个打印错误。
I worked with growing anxiety that I
wouldn’t be able to get to the end of the story before the baby was born, I
was afraid I might die while I was giving birth, leaving the book unfinished.
It was hard, nothing like the happy unconsciousness in which I had written
the first novel. Once I had sketched out the story, I decided to give the
text a more thoughtful pace. I wanted the writing to be lively, new,
deliberately chaotic, and I didn’t hold back. So I worked on a second,
detailed draft. I went back and rewrote every line even when, thanks to a
Lettera 32 that I had bought when I was expecting Dede, thanks to carbon
paper, I had transformed the notebooks into a solid typescript in triplicate,
almost two hundred pages, with not a single typing mistake.
那时候是夏天，天气很炎热，我的肚子很大，我的臀部又开始疼了，反反复复。我母亲在走廊里来回走动的脚步声让我很心烦。我盯着那些纸张，发现自己很害怕。有好几天时间，我都没办法做决定，我想让彼得罗读一读，但我很犹豫。我想，也许我应该直接寄给阿黛尔，让她看看，彼得罗不太适合看此类故事，再加上，他一直都很较劲儿，这让他在系里的日子很难过，他每次回家都很焦虑，会和我说一些很抽象的话，都是关于法律的价值。我觉得，他的状况不适合阅读一本描写工人、老板、流血斗争、黑社会还有放高利贷的人的故事。还有，他一直都让我远离他内心的纷乱，他从来都没对我过去是什么样子、我后来变成什么样子表示出兴趣，他对我这个人都没有兴趣，把书给他看，有什么意义呢？他只是会谈到词汇、句点的运用，假如我追问他的想法，他也只会泛泛地说几句。我给阿黛尔寄了一份稿子，然后给她打了电话。
It was summer, it was very hot, my belly
was enormous. The pain in my buttock had reappeared, it came and went, and my
mother’s step in the hall got on my nerves. I stared at the pages, I
discovered that I was afraid of them. For days I couldn’t make up my mind, I
worried about giving it to Pietro to read. Maybe, I thought, I should send it
directly to Adele, this isn’t the type of story for him. And besides, with
the persistence that distinguished him, he continued to make life difficult
for himself at the university, coming home in a state of agitation, making
abstract speeches about the value of law—in other words, he wasn’t in the
right state of mind to read a novel about workers, bosses, struggles, blood,
camorrists, loan sharks. What’s more, my novel. He keeps me separate from the
confusion inside him, he’s never been interested in what I was and what I’ve
become, what’s the point of giving him the book? He’ll just discuss this or
that choice of word, and the punctuation, and if I insist on an opinion he’ll
say something vague. I sent Adele a copy of the manuscript, then I called
her.
“我写完了。”
“I’ve finished.”
“我真高兴。你让我看看吧？”
“I’m so pleased. Will you let me read
it?”
“今天早上，我给你寄了一份。”
“I sent it to you this morning.”
“很好，我迫不及待地想看到你的新作。”
“Good, I can’t wait to read it.”
-*-
74
我开始等待，这种等待要比我等待腹中踢腾的孩子出生还要焦急。我一天一天地数着日子，五天过去了，阿黛尔还是没回应。第六天，在吃晚饭时，黛黛为了讨我欢心，她开始自己吃饭，非常费劲，她外婆恨不得亲自喂她吃，但强忍着没帮她。这时候，彼得罗问我：
I settled myself to wait, a wait that
became much more anxious than that for the child who was kicking in my belly.
I counted five days, one after another, no word from Adele. On the sixth day,
at dinner, while Dede was making an effort to eat by herself in order not to
displease me, and her grandmother was desperate to help her but didn’t,
Pietro asked me:
“你的书写完了吗？”
“Did you finish your book?”
“是的。”
“Yes.”
“为什么你让我母亲看，却不让我看。”
“And why did you give it to my mother to
read and not me?”
“你总是很忙，我不想打扰你。假如你想看，我写字台上还有一份。”
“You’re busy, I didn’t want to bother
you. But if you want to read it, there’s a copy on my desk.”
他没有回答。我等了一下，然后问：
He didn’t answer. I waited, I asked:
“阿黛尔跟你说了，我给她发了？”
“Adele told you I sent it to her?”
“那还能有谁呢？”
“Who else would it have been?”
“她看完了吗？”
“Did she finish it?”
“是的。”
“Yes.”
“她怎么看？”
“What does she think?”
“她会告诉你的，那是你们之间的事儿。”
“She’ll tell you, it’s between you two.”
情况不妙。吃完晚饭之后，我把我桌上那份稿子放到了他的书桌上。我把黛黛哄睡着了，我一直在看电视，但什么都没看进去，也没听进去，最后我躺在了床上。我没办法合眼：为什么阿黛尔已经和彼得罗谈了我的书，为什么她还没打电话给我？第二天——一九七三年七月三十号，我去看我丈夫有没有开始看我的小说，但那份稿子已经压在一堆书下面，那是他整夜都在研究的书，很明显，他连我的稿子翻都没翻一下。我觉得很心烦，我对克莱利亚嚷嚷，让她看着黛黛，不要老是把手放在裤兜里，什么也不干，所有活儿都让我母亲干。我对我母亲也很不客气，因为她以为我这么说，是对她示好的表现。她摸着我的肚子，想让我安静下来，她问：
He was offended. After dinner I moved the
manuscript from my desk to his, I put Dede to bed, I watched television
without seeing or hearing anything, and finally I went to bed. I couldn’t
close my eyes: Why had Adele talked to Pietro about the book but hadn’t yet
called me? The next day, July 30, 1973, I went to see if my husband had
started reading: the typescript was under the books he had been working on
for most of the night, it was clear that he hadn’t even looked through it. I
became nervous, I shouted at Clelia to take care of Dede, not to sit around
and let my mother to do everything. I was very harsh with her, and my mother
evidently took it as a sign of affection. She touched my belly as if to calm
me, she asked:
“如果再生一个女儿，你给她起个什么名字？”
“If it’s another girl what will you call
her?”
我脑子里想着其他事情，我的腿很疼，我想都没想，就回答她说：
I had other things on my mind, my leg
hurt, I answered without thinking:
“艾尔莎。”
“Elsa.”
她的脸色阴沉下来了，我后来才意识到，她期待的回答是：我们给黛黛起了彼得罗母亲的名字，假如这次又生个女儿的话，那就用你的名字。我想给自己找理由，但不是很积极。我说：“妈，你想想看，你的名字叫伊马可拉塔，我没办法给我女儿叫这个名字，我不喜欢。”她嘟囔了一句：“为什么，艾尔莎就更好听？”我说：“艾尔莎就像埃莉莎，是我妹妹的名字，你应该感到高兴才对。”她再也没说什么。我当时对一切都感到厌烦，天气越来越热了，我总是汗流浃背，我的肚子很沉重，让我无法忍受，我也无法忍受自己一瘸一拐的，一切都让我无法忍受。
She darkened, I realized too late that
she was expecting me to say: We gave Dede the name of Pietro’s mother, and if
it’s another girl this time we’ll give her your name. I tried to justify it,
but reluctantly. I said: Ma, try to understand, your name is Immacolata, I
can’t give my daughter a name like that, I don’t like it. She grumbled: Why,
is Elsa nicer? I replied: Elsa is like Elisa, if I give her the name of my
sister you should be pleased. She didn’t say another word. Oh, how tired I
was of everything. The heat was getting worse, I was dripping with sweat, I
couldn’t stand my heavy belly, I couldn’t stand my limping, I couldn’t stand
anything, not a thing.
终于，在吃午饭之前，我给阿黛尔打了电话。她声音里没有往常的那种戏谑。她话说得很慢，语气有些沉重，我感觉她说每个字都很吃力，她用一种绕来绕去、模棱两可的话表示：那本书不怎么样。我试着捍卫那本小说时，她不再说客套话来掩饰，而是变得很直接。她说：“里面的女主人公很讨厌；没什么突出的人物，只有一些模糊的影子；书中的情景和对话都是套路；小说想写得时尚一些，但显得很凌乱；故事里的仇恨让人很不舒服；结尾也很粗糙，有点意大利式西部小说的味道，不能体现你的智慧、文化和天分。”最后，我只能闭口不言了，我一直在很仔细听着她的批评。最后她总结说：“上一本小说是活生生的、崭新的，但这本小说内容很陈旧，用那么精心的语言写成，看起来很空洞。”我小声说：“可能出版社的人会宽容一下。”她的语气变得很僵硬，回复说：“假如你想发给他们看，你可以试试，但我确信，他们不会认为，这本书值得出版。”我不知道说什么才好，嘀咕了一句：“好吧，我会考虑一下，再见。”但她还想和我聊，于是换了一种语气，开始充满温情地谈到了黛黛、我母亲、我肚子里的孩子，还有让她非常生气的马丽娅罗莎。最后，她问我：
Finally, a little before lunchtime, Adele
telephoned. Her voice lacked its usual ironic inflection. She spoke slowly
and seriously, I felt that every word was a struggle: she said, with a lot of
euphemistic phrases and many fine distinctions, that the book wasn’t good.
But when I tried to defend it, she stopped looking for formulations that
wouldn’t hurt me and became explicit. The protagonist was unlikable. The
characters were caricatures. Situations and dialogues were mannered. The
writing tried to be modern and was only confused. All that hatred was
unpleasant. The ending was crude, like a spaghetti Western, it was an insult
to my intelligence, my education, my talent. I resigned myself to silence, I
listened to her criticisms to the end. She concluded by saying: The earlier
novel was vivid, innovative, this, however, is old in its contents and so
pretentiously written that the words seem empty. I said quietly: Maybe at the
publisher they’ll be kinder. She stiffened and replied: If you want to send
it, go ahead, but I would assume they’ll judge it unpublishable. I didn’t
know what to say, I said: All right, I’ll think about it, goodbye. She kept
me on the line, however, and, rapidly changing her tone, began to speak
affectionately of Dede, of my mother, my pregnancy, of Mariarosa, who enraged
her. Then she asked:
“你为什么没把小说拿给彼得罗看？”
“Why didn’t you give the novel to
Pietro?”
“我不知道。”
“I don’t know.”
“他会给你提一些意见。”
“He could have advised you.”
“我表示怀疑。”
“I doubt it.”
“你一点也不指望他？”
“You don’t respect him?”
“是的。”
“No.”
在通完电话之后，我把自己关在房间里，感觉非常绝望。这是一件让人备受屈辱的事，我没法忍受。午饭我几乎什么都没吃，尽管天气很热，我还是关着窗户睡觉。下午四点的时候，我感到第一阵阵痛。我没告诉我母亲，我带上自己事先准备好的包，坐到汽车方向盘前，向诊所开去，我希望自己死在路上，我和我的第二个孩子，但一切都很顺利。我感到一阵阵剧痛，在几个小时内，我又生了一个女儿。第二天早上，彼得罗就开始说，要给这个孩子起我母亲的名字，他觉得，我母亲那么辛苦，这是应该的。我当时心情很坏，我一再重申，我对信守这样的传统感到厌烦，我说这孩子的名字已经定下来了，叫艾尔莎。从诊所回到家里，我做的第一件事儿就是给莉拉打电话。我没有跟她说我刚生了孩子，我问她，我能不能把那本小说发给她。有几秒钟，我只听到她轻盈的呼吸，最后她说：
Afterward, shut in my study, I despaired.
It had been humiliating, intolerable. I could hardly eat, I fell asleep with
the window closed despite the heat. At four in the afternoon I had my first
labor pains. I said nothing to my mother, I took the bag I had prepared, I
got in the car, and drove to the clinic, hoping to die on the way, I and my
second child. Instead everything went smoothly. The pain was excruciating,
but in a few hours I had another girl. Pietro insisted the next morning that
our second daughter should be given the name of my mother, it seemed to him a
necessary tribute. I replied bitterly that I was tired of following
tradition, I repeated that she was to be called Elsa. When I came home from
the clinic, the first thing I did was call Lila. I didn’t tell her I had just
given birth, I asked if I could send her the novel.
“等出版之后，我再看吧。”
I heard her breathing lightly for a few
seconds, then she said: “I’ll read it when it comes out.”
“我现在就需要你的看法。”
“I need your opinion right away.”
“我已经有很长时间没看书了，莱农，我已经不知道怎么读书了，我不行。”
“I haven’t opened a book for a long time,
Lenù, I don’t know how to read anymore, I’m not capable.”
“算是我求你了。”
“I’m asking you as a favor.”
“之前那本你直接就出版了，为什么这本不行？”
“The other you just published, period;
why not this one?”
“因为上次我没觉得那是一本书。”
“Because the other one didn’t even seem
like a book to me.”
“我只能告诉你，我喜不喜欢。”
“I can only tell you if I like it.”
“好吧，这已经够了。”
“All right, that’s enough.”
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