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書摘/試閱

一代美國社會縮影,浮華夢醒後的蒼涼

★美國文學經典之作
★二十世紀百大英文小說

一九二二年的春天,尼克來到美國東部學習債券生意,認識了鄰居蓋茨比──一個身世背景成謎的大亨。蓋茨比發家致富的原因眾說紛紜,沒有人真正認識這位大亨。儘管如此,人們依舊在每個週末出席蓋茨比的宴會,紅男綠女們在西卵的豪宅裡恣意狂歡,享受著美酒佳餚、輕歌曼舞,觥籌交錯間只有宴會主人蓋茨比滴酒不沾。蓋茨比如今不缺財富,他唯一的渴望是曾經的戀人黛西,哪怕黛西已嫁給湯姆,蓋茨比仍情深不悔,一心追求年少時的嚮往。他在尼克的幫助下與黛西重逢,然而失去的東西終究不復返,最後蓋茨比仍不敵現實,以淒涼悲劇收場。

史考特.費茲傑羅以敏銳而細膩內斂的筆觸,刻劃戰後失落一代紙醉金迷的生活、並隱隱揭示了逐漸凋零的美國夢,帶領讀者以尼克的眼光,看時代下的世態炎涼,也看蓋茨比真摯純粹、卻也令人悵惘的一生。

本書特色

※中英雙語版。保留英文原始文學美感。
※經典質感裝幀,具傳承典藏價值。

史考特.費茲傑羅 (F. Scott Fitzgerald)
1896年出生於美國明尼蘇達州,在就讀普林斯頓大學便立志投身文學。1917年從軍,1920出版第一本小說《塵世樂園》,初試啼聲便大獲好評,一舉躋身文壇,名利雙收。而後與妻子珊爾妲縱情享樂,曾寄居巴黎。1940年死於心臟病發。費茲傑羅一生為晚報及雜誌創作許多短篇小說與散文,也曾寫過劇本,正式出版的長篇小說卻不多,1925年出版的第三本小說《大亨小傳》,被後世普遍認為是他最傑出的作品,也是美國「爵士年代」的象徵。
費茲傑羅作為一戰過後「失落的一代」,一生在追尋理想和耽於逸樂之間載浮載沉,也正因如此其作品多出於現實經歷見聞,並反映了美國「爵士年代」的浮華表象及其背後的逃避與空虛。費茲傑羅現今已被譽為二十世紀最傑出的美國作家之一。

繪者簡介 
成惠英
韓籍插畫家。


譯者簡介 
邱淑娟
文字工作者。

導4讀  爵士年代的絢爛大夢
——文字工作者 李曉菁

一九二二年的美國長島西卵鎮,已經聞不到第一次世界大戰的煙硝氣息。
勞斯萊斯車駛入仿法國諾曼第市政建築的豪宅,通宵的狂歡派對鼓噪著各式樂器聲,義大利歌劇融合美國百老匯戲劇,爵士樂的慵懶穿插其中,交織出繁星般的燦爛與俗麗。不知道彼此姓名的男女,爭妍鬥豔,只要擁有一輛名牌跑車,彷彿握有一張擠入蓋茨比豪宅的通行證,豪宅裡有穿越國界與時空的幻想—挑高的歌德式藏書室牆壁鑲嵌英國雕花橡木的裝飾;有人性的墮落與欺騙—捧著酒杯入書房的客人,語氣嘲諷地確認著書櫃上陳列的是如假包換的書,而不是充當壁飾的假磚塊書。
夜裡的蓋茨比豪宅是一九二零年代紐約上流階級的縮影。那時世界大戰方休,對大戰採取孤立主義的美國年輕一代,移轉對戰爭的恐懼與無助,沉醉在美女、美酒與舒軟爵士樂生活中,需要更多的金錢作後盾。
費茲傑羅極盡物質奢華的《大亨小傳》於是生成。讀者從小說聞到資本社會的銅臭味。讀者自小說感受爵士年代的恣肆氛圍。讀者也隨小說進入酒品禁制的時空。那時美國禁止販賣私酒的法律行之有年,極端的管制卻導致更大的慾望,私釀酒的販子更形猖獗。《大亨小傳》中無數飲酒作樂的場面,不免讓支持禁酒法律的讀者扼腕搖頭,然而小說主人翁蓋茨比的神祕成功,卻可能肇因於他私酒走私犯的身份,矛盾的是,蓋茨比的豪宅夜夜款待賓客,斗酒十千恣歡謔,他卻滴酒不沾。
不喝酒這點使蓋茨比不同於其他賓客。他總是站在外面,冷眼看狂歡,一副眾人皆醉我獨醒的姿態。那些賓客有相仿的來歷,來自中西部,移民東部追求「美國夢」。所謂美國夢,就是相信不管任何人,無論出生貧富,只要透過努力都可以獲得成功與財富。在淘金這層次上,蓋茨比成功了!可他的美國夢卻不僅只有金錢,他還憧憬愛情,一股年輕時對愛情的憧憬,引導我們進入《大亨小傳》的浪漫動人之處。不同於周旋於酒色的賓客,蓋茨比不談股票、保險與汽車,他要的是一個女人,五年前熱戀的黛西,然而當時的蓋茨比,還是個一文不名的軍官,只能成天穿軍服,掩蓋自己沒有像樣便服的窘困。
費茲傑羅巧妙揣摩蓋茨比陷入情網的矛盾心態,無非也是自身經歷的投射。一八九六年,出生於明尼蘇達州一古老保守家族的費茲傑羅,移民東部,進入普林斯頓大學,學生時代便開始創作,還沒畢業就從軍,參與第一次世界大戰。在軍中,他愛上珊爾妲。珊爾妲出生富有家庭,父親是阿拉巴馬州的法官。兩情相悅而後訂婚,珊爾妲卻在費茲傑羅決定前往紐約接下一份低薪工作後毀婚。為了贏回心愛女人,費茲傑羅重操舊業,書寫普林斯頓大學的學生生活,文中摻入都會男女的速食愛情觀。一九二零年,《塵世樂園》(The Side of Paradise)暢銷,讓他一夕成名,大賺版稅,贏得美人歸。為了享受上流社會生活,他開始在《星期六晚郵報》(The Saturday Evening Post)《時髦人士》(The Smart Set) 大量發表短篇小說,同時搬進長島豪宅,這裡遂成為《大亨小傳》西卵鎮的靈感來源。可惜的是,蓋茨比的故事雖受評論家所青睞,卻不為讀者接受。夫妻生活拮据起來,爭吵不斷,費茲傑羅開始酗酒,珊爾妲更因精神問題,頻頻進出醫療診所。對婚姻絕望的費茲傑羅,在一九三七年搬到好萊塢,從事電影劇本創作,著手關於電影的新作。可惜的是,作品還沒完成,他就在一九四零年死於心臟病。
《大亨小傳》在費茲傑羅生前雖不受青睞,卻在作者死後大受重視。關於小說的研究在一九四零和五零年代達到顛峰,成為大學英美文學的教材,導演傑克•克萊頓在一九七四年更將小說改編成電影,搬上大螢幕。
小說以第一人稱敘述。敘事者尼克是參加過「世界大戰」的耶魯大學生,自中西部移民東部,投入名不見經傳的股票公司工作,意外成為蓋茨比的鄰居和傾聽者,旁觀蓋茨比、表妹黛西和大學同學湯姆的感情糾紛。尼克是說故事高手,當所有角色以自我為中心,只關心自己的感覺和欲望,不負責任地道聽塗說,尼克卻能從各家八卦中,條理分明地爬梳線索,道出蓋茨比的半生。
從尼克眼中,我們看到中西部的樸實、狹隘甚至沉悶,強烈對比東部的眩惑與不協調的拼貼感,難怪尼克「總覺得東部的生活有一點畸形。尤其是西卵鎮,在我許多古怪的夢中總有它。」它,是紐約,夜晚漲滿不安、放縱和冒險的浪漫情調,白天則屬於股票、名車、豪宅與名牌服飾。從尼克眼中,我們更看到蓋茨比讓人無比安心的笑容、紐約客一夕致富的特質:與生俱來的樂觀、羅曼蒂克的希望、無比神祕的力量—可能殺過人?在戰時當過德國間諜?否則「一個年紀輕輕的人,怎麼可能莫名其妙冒出頭,在紐約長島購置一座宮殿式的別墅?」
讀者一直透過尼克的眼睛在偵探蓋茨比,直到第三章,終能一睹蓋茨比的風采。就像《基督山恩仇記》的基督山伯爵一樣,蓋茨比的神祕,在於當時無人知其巨大財富從何而來,然而不同的是基督山伯爵帶來復仇的緊張;蓋茨比帶來愛情的悸動。
從蓋茨比對黛西的執著看來,《大亨小傳》是部浪漫的都會愛情小說。在充滿戀物情結的社交圈談情說愛,讀者不禁要質疑,被物欲綑綁的黛西,到底懂不懂真愛?黛西是不是真如蓋茨比的理解:「她當初嫁給你(湯姆)只不過是因為我很窮,她累了,不想再等我了!」蓋茨比追求的,到頭來是不是只是物化的愛情,冰冷而缺乏溫度?
蓋茨比二度追求黛西,構成《大亨小傳》的主軸。五年前,蓋茨比第一次親吻黛西,兩人發生親密關係,他雖離開,卻將對她的熱望轉化成賺錢的動力。在蓋茨比眼中,黛西是無可取代的珍寶;可從尼克眼中,黛西沒有蓋茨比的夢想美好:黛西善於編織謊言,說話響著金錢碰撞的叮噹聲,散發奇妙吸引力,富有的老公與美麗的小女兒是她炫耀的題材,還會抱著衣料號啕大哭:「從沒見過這麼漂亮的襯衫。」不小心開車撞死梅朵後,卻什麼事也沒發生似的一走了之,甚至在蓋茨比的葬禮上,連一個字、一朵花都沒有。
湯姆,黛西的丈夫,有強健肌肉供炫耀、用珍珠項鍊收買女人心。他不頂聰明,可是對自己的健康、財富與地位極端自信。他性格的矛盾表現在他的大男人主義愛情觀:他對於自己與情婦梅朵的逢場作戲,可以堂而皇之接受、誇耀;蓋茨比與黛西的相愛則罪不容赦。當他發現老婆的背叛,他也展開一連串反擊,加入調查蓋茨比身世的偵探行列。
湯姆與情婦梅朵的戀情乍看沒有重要性,卻為小說埋下伏筆。最後,梅朵的老公威爾森,輕信湯姆的錯誤分析,以為梅朵是蓋茨比撞死的,闖入豪宅用槍殺死蓋茨比。蓋茨比成為無辜犧牲者,而威爾森的愚昧、湯姆的煽動與黛西的無知,都是這場謀殺的共犯。讀者為蓋茨比的死喊冤,又該如何理解費茲傑羅用「偉大」形容蓋茨比?顯然
這是尼克的說法,若是從湯姆口中說出這字眼,必定充滿嘲諷與挑釁;而站在讀者的角度,蓋茨比的偉大在於他的神祕與執著,在賺進大把鈔票後,還信念單純,不遺忘愛情。
故事並不隨蓋茨比的死去而落幕,之後的章節,毋寧說是另一場偵探小說的開始,尼克鍥而不捨地追究蓋茨比身世之謎,揭露的卻是紐約都會人的無情與冷漠,當初夜夜入豪宅狂歡的賓客,竟無一人參加蓋茨比的葬禮。當蓋茨比的老父穿著廉價大衣出現葬禮時,眾人更是一陣錯愕,那偉大的財富或許只是蓋茨比一手策劃的巨大騙局,在無情的紐約社交圈中,踏進圈中的人比圈外人更孤獨。

第一章

在我年紀還輕,涉世不深的時候,我父親曾經訓誡過我一段話,至今我還放在心上反覆思考。
他對我說:「每當你開口批評別人,請記住,世界上不是每個人都像你這樣,從小就占盡各種優勢。」
他沒有繼續多說—我們父子之間雖然話不多,但總有些事情異常相通,所以我當時知道他話中有話。由於這個教誨,我養成了不妄下斷語的習慣。而這種態度吸引了很多性情古怪的人把我當成知己,什麼心事都對我說,甚至有些面目可憎、言語無味的人也來糾纏我。大概那些心理不正常的人見到正常人有這種性情,就會馬上伺機接近。所以,我在大學時代就被視為政客,這很不公正,因為總有冒冒失失的陌生人找我傾吐心事,其實我一點都不想知道,一旦情況不對,發現有人要把我當知己,準備向我坦露心事,我就會裝睡或藉故忙碌,一副事不關己的模樣,說幾句玩笑話;因為年輕人把你當作知己所傾吐的隱私往往千篇一律,而且有所隱瞞。不對人妄下斷語代表一種無窮的希望。我提起父親的話,似乎顯得我們父子都有點瞧不起人,但他其實是要提醒我,待人寬厚是一種天賦,並不是每個人生來都相同,我時時提醒自己記得這個準則:責人過苛,而有所失。
雖然我如此強調對人寬厚,但不得不說寬厚也有限度。人的行為,有基於磐石、有出於泥沼,可是過了某種程度,我也不管它的緣由了。去年秋天剛從東部回來時,心情的確非常沉重,巴不得全世界的人都穿上制服來向道德觀念立正致敬;我再也不想放縱自己涉足他人的內心,讓人家對我推心置腹了。但是只有蓋茨比—本書的主人翁—例外,這位大亨代表了我所鄙夷的一切。假使一個人的個性是一連串不間斷的成功姿態,那麼他一定有其迷人之處;他對於生命具有超高敏感度,像是能夠偵測萬里以外地震的精密儀器。這種能力與一般美其名為「創造型人格」的那種軟弱的多愁善感完全不同,是一種異乎尋常、與生俱來的樂觀,一種浪漫的希望,是我在別人身上從未發現過,以後也不可能再遇見。沒錯,蓋茨比最終也沒有令我失望,使我對人世間虛無的悲歡暫時喪失興趣的,就是蓋茨比內心所受的一切折磨,以及在他的幻夢消逝後隨之而來的污濁灰塵。
我們卡拉威家三代住在中西部這個城市,家境富裕,也算是當地名門望族。據說我們原本是蘇格蘭博克祿地方的公爵世家,而我這個支系的直系先人是我的伯祖父。他在一八五一年移居到這,在南北戰爭期間買了傭兵替他打仗,他自己則創辦了一家商行,專做五金批發買賣,如今我父親還繼續經營這項祖業。
我從未見過這位伯祖父,但我應該長得像他—從父親辦公室牆上那幅稍嫌冷酷的肖像畫就可以看出來。我在一九一五年從紐哈芬市的耶魯大學畢業,剛好比我父親晚了四分之一個世紀。不久後我參加了稱之為世界大戰,但我視之為條頓民族大遷徙的延續。這場反侵略的仗,我打得興致高昂,退伍回家後仍靜不下心來。中西部家鄉不再是我心中溫暖的中心,而是宇宙邊緣的荒漠,因此我決定到東部去學債券生意。我的朋友全進了這一行,所以再多收容我一個也無妨。為了這件事,我的叔伯姑嬸討論了好久,就跟決定送我到哪所私立中學去一樣緊張。最後,個個臉上露出嚴肅而且猶豫的神情說:「那麼,好吧。」父親答應資助我一年。耽擱了一陣子後,我終於在一九二二年的春天來到這裡,當時我還以為這一去就不再回來了。
在大城市生活最現實的問題就是找到棲身處,那時已是溫暖的季節,而我又離開了花木扶疏、綠草如茵的家園,所以當一位年輕同事建議一起去近郊租房子同住時,我馬上答應了。不久就找到了一間飽經風霜的木造平房,月租八十元。但正要搬進去時,公司忽然把他調到華盛頓,我只好一個人搬進郊外這間房子。與我作伴的還有一隻狗—雖然沒幾天牠就跑了—和一部道奇老車,還有一位芬蘭籍的女傭人,她每天來替我整理床舖、準備早餐,每次她站在電爐前,總會自顧自叨唸著芬蘭人為人處世的道理。
頭一兩天我覺得很孤單,直到有一天,我在路上碰到一個比我對這地方還陌生的人。
「請問到西卵鎮該怎麼走?」他一臉無助地問我。
我指點方向後繼續往前,頓時不再感覺孤單。陌生人把我當成嚮導、拓荒者、定居者。他無意間認定我為這地方的一份子。
這個時節陽光普照,綠樹倏然成蔭。就像在縮時電影裡一樣,花草在一夜間繁茂了起來。夏天接著來臨,我也再度有了生命復始的信念。
要做的事不少,有許多書要讀,憑藉著清新的空氣,也有許多有益健康的活動。買了十幾本有關銀行學、信用貸款和證券投資的書籍,一本本燙了紅金的書本擺在書架上,就像造幣廠製的新鈔一樣,等著為我揭露邁達斯國王、金融家摩根和羅馬巨富梅賽納斯等人的致富祕訣。除此之外,我打算要讀更多其他種類的書。我大學時頗有文藝氣息,曾經替《耶魯新聞》寫過一系列內容嚴肅而淺顯的社論。現在我打算重新在這些方面下功夫,使自己成為「通才」,換句話說,就是最膚淺的專家。這並不是什麼俏皮話,畢竟專心致志的人生總是要成功多了。
我租的房子在北美最怪異的一個地方,這純屬巧合。這個小鎮位在紐約東方一個延伸出來的細長怪島上,除了天然奇景外,還有兩處不尋常的地形,像一對碩大的雞蛋,離城裡有二十英里路,一東一西,中間隔著一道小灣,兩邊地角伸向西半球直到長島海灣恬靜無波的鹹水裡。這兩處隆起的地形一點都不圓滾,倒像哥倫布故事裡的雞蛋一樣,在觸地的那一端都有點壓扁了。在天空翱翔的海鷗看見了,一定驚訝不已;而對於插翅也難飛的人類來說,這兩個地方除了形狀大小之外,並無絲毫相似之處。

CHAPTER 1

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.
"Whenever you feel like criticizing any one," he told me, "just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."
He didn't say any more but we've always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence I'm inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought-frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon-for the intimate revelations of young men or at least the terms in which they express them are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.
And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes but after a certain point I don't care what it's founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction-Gatsby who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the "creative temperament"-it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No-Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.
My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this middle-western city for three generations. The Carraways are something of a clan and we have a tradition that we're descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of my line was my grandfather's brother who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War and started the wholesale hardware business that my father carries on today.
I never saw this great-uncle but I'm supposed to look like him-with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in Father's office. I graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after my father, and a little later I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm center of the world the middle-west now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe-so I decided to go east and learn the bond business. Everybody I knew was in the bond business so I supposed it could support one more single man. All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep-school for me and finally said, "Why-ye-es" with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance me for a year and after various delays I came east, permanently, I thought, in the spring of twenty-two.
The practical thing was to find rooms in the city but it was a warm season and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town it sounded like a great idea. He found the house, a weather beaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington and I went out to the country alone. I had a dog, at least I had him for a few days until he ran away, and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman who made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove.
It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road.
"How do you get to West Egg village?" he asked helplessly.
I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on me the freedom of the neighborhood.
And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees-just as things grow in fast movies-I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
There was so much to read for one thing and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. I bought a dozen volumes on banking and credit and investment securities and they stood on my shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew. And I had the high intention of reading many other books besides. I was rather literary in college-one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the "Yale News"-and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the "well-rounded man." This isn't just an epigram-life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all.
It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western Hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. They are not perfect ovals-like the egg in the Columbus story they are both crushed flat at the contact end-but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual confusion to the gulls that fly overhead. To the wingless a more arresting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size.

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