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傍晚时分，杰克·布朗特醒了，感觉睡得很好。他躺着的这个房间小而整洁，有一张书桌、一张饭桌、一张床和几把椅子。书桌上，有一台电扇正摇着头，在两面墙之间慢慢地来回吹着，轻风扫过杰克的脸，让他想到清凉的水。窗前，一个男人坐在桌子前，盯着摆在面前的一盘象棋。日光下，杰克觉得房间很陌生，但他立刻认出了那个男人的脸，好像他们早就认识一样。
读书笔记
是否公开许多记忆同时涌上杰克的心头，搅在了一起。他躺着一动不动，睁着眼睛，手心朝上。他的两只手很大，在白色床单的映衬下显出一种很深的棕色。他把手举到面前，上面布满抓痕和瘀青——血管都突出着，好像他一直抓着什么东西抓了很久。他脸色疲惫，样子邋遢，棕色头发盖在额头上，胡子乱七八糟，眉毛又粗又乱。他躺在那里，嘴唇动了动，胡子也跟着紧张地抖动起来。
读书笔记
是否公开过了一会儿，他坐起来，用一只大拳头猛捶自己的太阳穴，好让自己清醒过来。他一动，下棋的那个男人就立刻抬起头来，冲他微笑。
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是否公开“天哪，我渴死了。”杰克说，“感觉就像有支穿着袜子的俄国军队从我嘴里走过去一样。”
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是否公开那个男人望着他，一直微笑着，然后突然伸手从桌子一侧下方拿出一个装着冰水的磨砂水壶，还有一只玻璃杯。杰克喘着粗气大口大口地喝水——他半裸着站在房间中央，头朝后仰着，一只手紧张地握成拳头。他一连喝了四杯水，这才深吸一口气，感觉放松了一些。
读书笔记
是否公开一瞬间，有些回忆浮上他的心头。他不记得跟这个男人回家了，但之后发生的事情现在越来越清晰。他醒来时，发现自己泡在一盆凉水里。后来，他们一起喝咖啡、聊天。他倾吐了心中很多事情，那个男人一直听着。他说得嗓子都哑了，说的什么他记不太清了，却牢牢记住了那个男人脸上的表情。他们早晨才上床睡觉，百叶窗拉了下来，遮住了光线。起初，他噩梦不断，总是惊醒，必须得开灯才能让自己清醒过来。灯光也惊醒了这个家伙，但他没有一句怨言。
读书笔记
是否公开“你昨晚为什么没把我踢出门啊？”
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是否公开那个男人只是又笑了一下。杰克不知道他为什么会如此安静。他看着四周，找自己的衣服，发现自己的手提箱就放在床边的地上。他不记得自己是怎样把箱子从餐馆里要回来的，他还欠着餐馆的酒钱。他的那些书、一套白色西装、几件衬衫都在里面，原封不动。他开始飞快地穿衣服。
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是否公开等他穿好衣服，桌子上一只电咖啡壶正在滤煮着咖啡。男人伸手去掏挂在椅背上的一件马甲的口袋，拿出一张卡片。杰克疑惑地接了过来。这个男人的名字——约翰·辛格——刻在卡片中央，下面用钢笔写着一条简短的信息，字迹跟刻的名字一样精致。
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是否公开我是聋哑人，但我能读唇语，跟我说话，我听得懂。
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是否公开请不要大喊大叫。
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是否公开震惊之下，杰克觉得有些头重脚轻，大脑一片茫然。他和约翰·辛格就这么对望着。
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是否公开“不知道我自己得花多长时间，才可能发现这一点。”他说。
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是否公开他说话的时候，辛格非常认真地看着他的嘴唇——他以前就注意到了这一点。他真蠢！
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是否公开他们坐在桌旁，用蓝色杯子喝着热咖啡。房间里很凉爽，半开的百叶窗让照进来的刺目光线变得柔和了许多。辛格从壁橱里取出一个铁盒子，里面有一条面包、几个橘子，还有奶酪。辛格吃得不多，一只手插在口袋里，靠在椅背上，杰克则狼吞虎咽。他必须得立马离开这里，好好考虑考虑这些事情。他现在处境不妙，应该赶紧四处转转，找份工作才行。房间里静悄悄的，宁静舒适，没法考虑这些令人焦虑的事情——他得离开这里，自己走一会儿。
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是否公开“这里还有别的聋哑人吗？”他问道，“你朋友多吗？”
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是否公开辛格依旧微笑着。他一开始没明白这些话，杰克不得不又重复一遍。辛格抬了抬尖尖的黑色眉毛，摇了摇头。
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是否公开“孤独吗？”
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是否公开男人摇了摇头，像说是，又像说不是。他们默默地坐了一会儿，然后杰克起身要走。他一连谢了辛格好几次，感谢辛格昨晚收留自己。他慢慢动着嘴唇，确保辛格能听明白。哑巴只是又笑了一下，耸了耸肩。杰克问是否可以把手提箱塞到床底下在这里放几天，哑巴点头应允。
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是否公开然后，辛格把手从口袋里抽出来，拿出一支银色铅笔在便笺本上一笔一画地写起来。他把便笺本推过去，给杰克看。
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是否公开我可以在地上放个垫子，你找到地方住之前，可以先住在这里。白天我基本不在家。你不会给我添麻烦的。
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是否公开杰克觉得自己的嘴唇颤抖了，他突然生出一股感激之情，但他不能接受。“谢谢，”他说，“我已经有地方住了。”
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是否公开他要走的时候，哑巴递给他一条紧紧卷成一团的蓝色工装裤，还给他七毛五分钱。工装裤很脏，等杰克看清楚这件衣服，他才突然回忆起前一周发生的事。辛格跟他比画着，说这些钱原来是装在他口袋里的。
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是否公开“再见。”杰克说，“我会很快找个时间回来的。”
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是否公开他走了，哑巴站在门口，双手依然插在口袋里，脸上留着还未褪去的笑容。他下了几级台阶，又转身挥挥手。哑巴也朝他挥手，然后关上了房门。
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是否公开外面强烈的阳光猛地刺向他的双眼。他站在房子前面的人行道上，一下子被阳光晒得头晕眼花，什么也看不清楚。一个孩子坐在房子前面的栏杆上。他以前在哪里见过她。他想起她穿的那条男式短裤，还有她眯缝眼睛的样子。
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是否公开他举起手里那卷脏兮兮的工装裤，“我想把这个扔掉，知道哪里有垃圾桶吗？”
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是否公开孩子从栏杆上跳下来。“在后院，我带你去。”
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是否公开他跟在她身后，穿过房子旁边那条狭窄潮湿的小巷。到了后院，杰克看到两个黑人正坐在后面的台阶上。他俩都穿着白色西装，白色鞋子，其中一个黑人个子很高，领带和袜子都是鲜艳的绿色。另一个黑人是个混血儿，中等个头，正摩挲着膝盖上的一个铁口琴。他的袜子和领结是火红色的，跟高个儿同伴形成强烈对比。
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是否公开孩子指指后院栅栏旁的垃圾桶，然后转身冲着厨房的窗子大喊：“波西娅！海博埃和威利来了，正等着你呢。”
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是否公开厨房里传出一个柔和的声音回应着孩子的话。“你不用喊那么大声，我知道他们来了。我戴上帽子就来。”扔掉工装裤之前，杰克先把工装裤展开，只见上面沾满了泥巴，都发硬了，一条裤腿也撕破了，前面还沾了几滴血。他把衣服扔进了垃圾桶。一个黑人女孩从屋里出来，走到台阶上两个穿白西装的男孩身边。杰克发现，那个穿短裤的孩子正密切注视着他，她把重心从一只脚挪到另一只脚，看上去很兴奋的样子。
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是否公开“你是辛格先生的亲戚吗？”她问。
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是否公开“不是。”
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是否公开“好朋友？”
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是否公开“嗯，还不错，可以跟他一起过夜。”
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是否公开“我只是想知道——”
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是否公开“主街怎么走？”
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是否公开她指指右边。“这边，走两个街区就到了。”
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是否公开杰克用手指梳理了一下胡子，走了。他在手里晃着那七毛五分钱，咬着下嘴唇，直到把嘴唇咬得红红白白的。那三个黑人在他前面，慢吞吞地一边聊天一边走着。在这个陌生的小镇上，他觉得很孤独，于是便紧跟在他们后面，听他们说话。女孩挽着两个男孩的胳膊。她穿了件绿裙子，戴了一顶红帽子，脚上是一双红鞋。两个男孩紧靠在她身边走着。
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是否公开“我们今晚有什么计划？”她问。
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是否公开“完全听你的，亲爱的。”高个男孩说，“我和威利没什么特别的事。”
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是否公开她看看这个，再看看那个。“得由你俩来决定。”
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是否公开“嗯——”穿红袜子的矮个男孩说，“我和海博埃觉得，咱仨也——也许可以去教堂。”
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是否公开女孩用三种不同的腔调，唱着答道：“好——的——从教堂出来，我有个想法，我得去和爸爸待一会儿——就一小会儿。”他们在第一个拐角转了弯，杰克站在那里，望了他们一会儿，然后继续向前走去。
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是否公开主街上静悄悄的，很热，连个人影都没有。直到现在，他才意识到今天是周日——想到这里，他觉得很沮丧。大门紧闭的商店都撑起了遮雨棚，楼房在明亮的阳光底下显得光秃秃的。他经过纽约咖啡馆，门开着，但店里空荡荡的，很昏暗。那天早晨他没找到袜子穿，炽热的人行道透过薄薄的鞋底烤着他的双脚。太阳像块烧红的烙铁，紧紧压在他的头顶。这个小镇比他见过的任何地方都显得孤独，寂静的大街让他感觉很怪异。他喝醉的时候，这个地方显得那么欢腾喧闹，而现在，一切好像都戛然而止，没了一丝动静。
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是否公开他走进一家水果兼糖果店，买了份报纸。招聘广告栏内容非常少，有几家招聘二十五至四十岁的年轻人，要有车，通过销售各种产品抽取佣金。他快速跳过这些内容。一则招聘卡车司机的广告吸引了他的注意力，但最让他感兴趣的还是最下面的一则启事，上面写道：
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是否公开招聘——有经验的技师。迪克西阳光游乐场。
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是否公开请前往织工巷和第十五大街的路口处应聘。
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是否公开不知不觉地，他又走到那家餐馆门口，过去的两周他正是在这里度过的。除了那家水果店，这片街区只有这里没关门。杰克临时决定进去看看比夫·布兰农。
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是否公开从外面刺眼的阳光中走进来，咖啡馆里显得特别暗。一切都比他记忆中的样子显得更破败，更安静。布兰农像往常一样，站在收银机后面，两只胳膊抱在胸前，他丰满美丽的妻子则坐在柜台的另一头，正在锉着手指甲。杰克注意到，他走进来时夫妻俩对望了一眼。
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是否公开“下午好。”布兰农说。
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是否公开杰克感觉空气有些异样。也许，这个家伙是在笑，因为又想起了他烂醉时发生的那些事情。杰克呆呆地站着，有点愤懑。“请来盒塔吉特烟。”布兰农伸手到柜台下面拿烟时，杰克断定，布兰农不是在嘲笑他。白天，这个家伙的脸看上去不像晚上那么冷硬。他的脸色有点苍白，好像没睡好，眼神看上去像是一只疲惫的秃鹫。
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是否公开“直说吧。”杰克说，“我欠你多少钱？”
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是否公开布兰农打开抽屉，拿出一个学生用的便笺簿，放到柜台上。他慢吞吞地翻动纸页，杰克望着他。这本便笺看上去不像日常的记账本，倒更像一本私密的笔记。上面有长串的数字，加减乘除，还有简单勾勒的画。他在一页纸上停住，杰克看见页角写着自己的姓氏。这一页上面，没有数字——只有小的对号和叉号，上面还随意画了一整页圆滚滚的小猫，小猫是坐着的，尾巴又长又弯。杰克盯住不动。这些小猫的脸是人脸，而且是女人的脸。这些小猫的脸正是布兰农太太。
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是否公开“这里画对号的，代表啤酒。”布兰农说，“画叉号的，是晚饭。直线，是威士忌。我看看——”布兰农用手搓搓鼻子，耷拉着眼皮。然后，他合上便笺簿。“大约二十块钱。”
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是否公开“我得需要很长时间还钱，”杰克说，“到时候也许能还上这笔钱。”
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是否公开“不着急。”
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是否公开杰克靠在柜台上。“呃，这个小镇是个什么样的地方？”
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是否公开“普通地方，”布兰农说，“跟其他和它一样大的地方一样。”
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是否公开“有多少人口？”
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是否公开“大概三万人。”
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是否公开杰克打开那包烟，给自己卷了一支。他的手在哆嗦。“大部分地方都是工厂？”
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是否公开“对。有四个大棉纺厂——这四个是主要的工厂，还有一个针织厂，几个轧棉厂和锯木厂。”
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是否公开“工资怎么样？”
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是否公开“一周差不多平均十到十一块钱——但当然，不时都有人下岗。你为什么问这些？你想到工厂里找份工作？”
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是否公开杰克将拳头按到眼睛上，睡意蒙眬地揉着眼睛。“不知道，也许去，也许不去。”他把报纸铺到柜台上，指指刚才看的那则招聘广告，“我想四处看看，了解下这个。”
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是否公开布兰农看了广告，想了想。“是的，”最后他说，“我见过这个游乐场，不太大——只有几个新奇玩意儿，比如旋转木马和秋千，进去玩的都是些黑人、工人和孩子。他们经常在镇上各个空地搬来搬去。”
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是否公开“告诉我去那里怎么走。”
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是否公开布兰农跟他一起走到门口，给他指了指方向。“今天早晨你跟辛格一起回的家吗？”
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是否公开杰克点点头。
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是否公开“你觉得他人怎么样？”
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是否公开杰克咬着嘴唇。哑巴的面容清晰地浮现在他的脑海里，就像认识很久的朋友一样。自从离开他的房间后，他一直在想着这个男人。“我甚至不知道他是个聋哑人。”最后，他说道。
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是否公开他又走回炎热寂寥的大街。他不像个在陌生小镇上的陌生人，似乎在找人。很快，他走进河边的一片厂区。道路变得很窄，没铺路面，但不再空荡荡的了。一群群脏兮兮的孩子都是一副饥肠辘辘的模样，呼朋唤友，玩着游戏。那些只有两间屋的窝棚，千篇一律，破败不堪，都没有粉刷。食物和下水道的恶臭跟空气中的尘土混合在一起。河里的小瀑布隐隐发出哗哗的水声。人们或站在门口一言不发，或闲坐在台阶上。他们望着杰克，面黄肌瘦，毫无表情。他睁大棕色的眼睛，也盯着他们。他深一脚浅一脚地走着，不时用毛茸茸的手背抹一下嘴巴。
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是否公开织工巷的尽头是一块空旷的场地，以前是个废旧汽车回收站，地上仍然散落着生锈的机器部件，还有破损的内胎。场地一角，停着一辆拖车，附近有个旋转木马，用帆布盖住了一部分。
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是否公开杰克慢慢走过去。两个穿工装裤的小孩站在旋转木马前面。旁边有个黑人坐在箱子上，在夕阳下昏昏欲睡，两个膝盖瘫软地靠在一起，一只手里还拿着一袋融化了的巧克力。杰克望着他把手指头伸进黏糊糊的巧克力，然后慢条斯理地吸吮着手指。
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是否公开“这里的经理是谁？”
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是否公开黑人把沾满巧克力的两根手指塞进嘴里，用舌头上上下下舔着。“是个红头发男人。”他舔完手指后说道，“别的我不清楚，先生。”
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是否公开“他现在在哪儿？”
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是否公开“那边，最大的那架马车后面。”
读书笔记
是否公开杰克一边穿过草地，一边抽下领带塞进口袋里。西边，太阳已经开始落山了。在那条黑色的房顶线之上，天空显出一种温暖的深红色。游乐场老板正一个人站在那里抽烟，红头发向上竖着，像头上顶了块海绵，他用无神的灰色眼睛盯着杰克。
读书笔记
是否公开“你就是经理？”
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是否公开“嗯。我叫帕特森。”
读书笔记
是否公开“我来找工作，从今早的报纸上看到的。”
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是否公开“好。我可不想要新手。我需要的是有经验的机修工。”
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是否公开“我经验丰富。”杰克说。
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是否公开“你干过什么？”
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是否公开“我干过织工，修过织布机，在汽修厂和汽车装配车间也干过，什么活儿都干过。”
读书笔记
是否公开帕特森带他走到盖住了一部分的旋转木马跟前。在夕阳的照射下，这些一动不动的木马非常迷人。它们腾跃的姿势静止了，固定在褪色的镀金杆上。最靠近杰克的那匹马，脏乎乎的木头屁股上有细碎的裂纹，两只眼睛好像是瞎了一样，它神情狂躁，眼窝处的油漆也一片片剥落。在杰克看来，这些一动不动的旋转木马就像他醉酒后梦见的东西。
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是否公开“我需要一个有经验的机修工来修理这个，让这些东西保持良好状态。”帕特森说。
读书笔记
是否公开“我完全可以做到。”
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是否公开“这份工作需要两手兼顾。”帕特森解释道，“你负责整个地方。除了照看机器，你还得负责维持游客秩序。你得确保每个上来玩的人都买了票，还得确保他们的票是有效的，不是什么舞厅的旧票。大家都想坐木马，那些黑人没钱的时候总会想尽办法蒙骗你，你绝对想不到。你得一直瞪大三只眼睛看着。”
读书笔记
是否公开帕特森领他走到木马中间的机器那里，给他指了各种部件。他调整了一下手柄，随后便响起一阵尖细刺耳的机械音乐声。周围这群木马似乎把他们跟外界完全隔绝开来。等木马停下来，杰克问了几个问题，然后开始独自动手操作机器。
读书笔记
是否公开“上个家伙辞职了。”他们走出来又回到空地上时，帕特森说，“我一直讨厌换新人。”
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是否公开“我什么时候上班？”
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是否公开“明天下午。我们每周开放六个白天和晚上——早晨四点开门，晚上十二点关门。你三点左右就得过来，帮着做准备。晚上停业之后，还得花大概一个小时才能收拾停当。”
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是否公开“工资呢？”
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是否公开“十二块。”
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是否公开杰克点点头，帕特森伸出一只苍白、瘦骨嶙峋的手，指甲很脏。
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是否公开杰克离开空地的时候，天色已晚。刺目的蓝天变白了，东方出现了一轮白色的月亮。暮色之中，街道两旁那些房子的轮廓柔和了很多。杰克没有立刻沿着织工巷返回，而是走到附近的街区闲逛。一些味道，还有远处传来的一些声音，让他不时在尘土飞扬的大街旁驻足。他走走停停，会突然从一个方向转向另一个方向，漫无目的。他的头感觉轻飘飘的，好像是用薄薄的玻璃做的。他的身体内正在发生一种化学变化。他不断往身体里储存的那些啤酒和威士忌开始发生反应了，突然让他感觉到一阵醉意。之前看上去死气沉沉的大街，现在有了生机。大街边，有条参差不齐的狭长草坪。杰克走路的时候，感觉地面抬了起来，越来越靠近他的脸。他在草坪边坐下，靠在一根电话线杆上。他舒舒服服地坐在那里，像土耳其人那样盘起腿来，捋着胡须梢。有很多话涌上心头，于是，他神志恍惚地大声自言自语起来。
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是否公开“愤慨是贫穷最宝贵的花朵。是的。”
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是否公开说说话真好。自己的声音让他感到愉悦。声音似乎回荡着，萦绕在空中，每个词都响了两次。他咽口唾沫，润了润嘴唇，接着说。他突然很想回到哑巴安静的房间里，跟哑巴说说心里话。想跟一个聋哑人聊天，真是一件怪事。但是，他很孤独。
读书笔记
是否公开眼前的街道暗淡下来，夜晚就要来临了。偶尔有人从他身边经过，走在这条狭窄的街道上，彼此间沉闷地谈着话，每迈一步都会在脚边搅起一团尘土。也有女孩结伴经过，或者一个妈妈肩头扛着孩子走过去。杰克麻木地坐了一会儿，最后，他站起来，继续向前走。织工巷里黑乎乎的。几户人家的油灯在门口或窗外投下昏黄跳跃的灯光。有些房子里漆黑一片，家里人都坐在门前台阶上，借着邻居家反射出来的光才能看清东西。一个女人从窗户里探出身子，把一桶脏水泼到街上，有几滴溅到了杰克的脸上。有些房子后面传来尖厉愤怒的声音，还有些房子则传来摇椅缓慢摇动的令人感到宁静的声音。
读书笔记
是否公开杰克在一幢房子前停下，门前的台阶上坐着三个男人。房子里面透出的昏黄灯光照在他们身上，有两个人穿着工装裤，但打着赤膊，光着脚。其中一个个子很高，一副松松垮垮的样子；另一个很矮，嘴角生了脓疮。第三个人穿着衬衫和裤子，膝盖上放了顶草帽。
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是否公开“嗨。”杰克说。
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是否公开三个人盯着他，脸色蜡黄，面无表情。他们低声嘟囔着什么，却依旧坐着没动。杰克从口袋里拿出那包塔吉特烟，分了一圈。他在最底下一层台阶上坐下，脱掉鞋子。清凉潮湿的地面让脚感觉特别舒服。
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是否公开“现在有工作吗？”
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是否公开“有。”拿草帽的男人说，“大多数时候有工作。”
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是否公开杰克抠着脚指头。“我这里有福音[7]。”他说，“想找个人说说。”
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是否公开三个男人笑了。狭窄街道的对面，传来一个女人的歌声。他们吐出的烟雾缭绕在凝固的空气中，久久不散。一个小孩从街上跑过来停下，解开裤子前裆开始撒尿。
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是否公开“拐角那边有个帐篷，星期天开放。”小个子男人终于说话了，“你可以到那里去，跟他们尽情讲你的福音。”
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是否公开“不是那种福音，是更好的，是真理。”
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是否公开“哪种真理？”
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是否公开杰克吸吮了一下胡子，没有回答。过了一会儿，他说：“你们这里从来没有罢过工吗？”
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是否公开“有过一次。”高个子男人说，“大概六年前，这里罢过一次工。”
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是否公开“是怎么回事？”
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是否公开嘴角生脓疮的男人挪动两只脚，把烟蒂扔到地上。“嗯——他们就是不干了，因为他们一小时想要两毛钱。罢工的大约有三百人，他们一整天都在街上瞎溜达。后来，工厂派了几辆卡车出去，一个星期以后，镇上到处都是到这儿来找工作的人。”
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是否公开杰克转过身，面对着他们。三个男人坐的地方比他高两个台阶，所以他得抬起头来才能看着他们的眼睛。“这事难道不让你们愤怒吗？”他问。
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是否公开“你说的什么意思——愤怒？”
读书笔记
是否公开杰克额头上的血管突出来，变成深红色。“老天，天哪，我的意思就是愤怒——愤——怒——愤怒。”他对着他们困惑不已的蜡黄面孔怒目而视。在他们身后，他可以从敞开的前门看见房子里面的情景。在前面的房间里，有三张床、一个洗漱台；后面的房间里，一个赤脚女人坐在一张椅子上，睡着了。从附近一个昏暗的门廊里，传来弹奏吉他的声音。
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是否公开“我就是当时坐卡车来镇上的。”高个子男人说。
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是否公开“这没有什么区别。我想要跟你们说的是简单直白的。那些拥有这些工厂的杂种们都是百万富翁，但那些落纱工、梳毛工，还有所有那些在机器后面纺纱织布的工人，他们几乎连肚子都填不饱。明白吗？所以，当你们走在街上思考，看见那些饥肠辘辘、疲惫不堪的人，看见那些佝偻着腿的孩子，你们难道不会愤怒吗？不会吗？”
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是否公开杰克的脸又红又黑，嘴唇哆嗦着。三个男人小心翼翼地望着他，然后，拿草帽的那个男人哈哈大笑起来。
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是否公开“继续，偷着笑吧。你们就坐在这里，笑破肚皮吧。”
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是否公开三个笑一个，这三个男人笑得不急不慢、从容自在。杰克擦擦脚底的土，穿上鞋子。他的两只拳头攥得紧紧的，嘴角抽搐，带着一丝愤怒的嘲讽。“笑吧——你们只能干这个。希望你们就坐在这里，偷着笑吧，‘直到你们烂掉！’”他走在街上，浑身僵硬，身后的笑声和嘘声一直追随着他。
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是否公开主街上灯火通明。杰克在一个拐角处徘徊着，在口袋里摆弄着那几枚硬币。他的头阵阵作痛，尽管夜晚炎热，但他觉得全身发冷。他想到了哑巴，急切地想回去跟他坐一会儿。他走到下午买报纸的那家水果兼糖果店，挑了一篮子水果，上面包着玻璃纸。柜台后面的希腊人说价格是六毛钱，付完钱他就只剩一枚五分硬币了。他走出商店，立刻觉得手中的礼物送给一个健康人未免有些好笑。几颗葡萄从玻璃纸下面垂下来，他贪婪地摘下来吃掉了。
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是否公开杰克到的时候，辛格在家。辛格正坐在窗户前，面前的桌上摆着那盘棋。房间还是杰克离开时的样子，电扇开着，那罐冰水放在桌子旁边，床上有一顶巴拿马帽和一个纸包裹，看上去哑巴似乎刚刚回家。他朝对面的椅子抬抬下巴，然后把棋盘推到了一边。他的双手插进口袋，向后靠，脸上的表情似乎在问杰克走了以后情况怎么样。
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是否公开杰克把水果放在桌上。“今天下午的情况，”他说，“可以用这句格言来概括：出去找条章鱼，给它穿上袜子。”
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是否公开哑巴笑了，但杰克不清楚他是否明白了自己的意思。哑巴看看水果，很吃惊，然后解开玻璃纸包装。他收拾这些水果时，脸上有种特别怪异的表情。杰克努力想搞明白这个表情意味着什么，却还是被难住了。辛格露出灿烂的笑容。
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是否公开“今天下午，我找了份游乐场的工作。我要去开旋转木马了。”
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是否公开哑巴似乎并不吃惊。他走到壁橱前，拿出一瓶酒和两只玻璃杯。他们喝着酒，一言不发。杰克觉得，自己从来没有在如此安静的房间里待过。头顶上的灯光将自己的影子投在面前闪亮的玻璃杯上，很奇怪的影子——以前，他很多次都注意到自己在罐子或锡杯的弯曲表面上投下的影子，跟现在一模一样——脸是鸡蛋形状，矮墩墩的，胡子乱七八糟，都快长到耳朵上了。在他对面，哑巴两只手捧着杯子。酒开始在杰克的血管里活跃起来，他觉得自己又走进了醉酒的万花筒里。由于激动，他的胡子猛烈地抖动起来。他把胳膊肘支在膝盖上，向前倾着身子，睁大眼睛紧紧盯着辛格，似乎在寻找着什么。
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是否公开“我敢打赌，这个镇上只有我一个人觉得愤怒——我说的是真正的愤怒——整整十年，都是这样。不久之前，我差一点跟人动手打起来。有时候，我觉得自己好像是疯了。我不清楚。”辛格把酒推到客人眼前。杰克直接就着瓶子喝起来，然后用手摩挲着头顶。
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是否公开“你瞧，我就像两个人。一个我是受过教育的人，我去过国内最大的几家图书馆。我读书，一直读书，读那些讲纯粹真理的书。在那边我的手提箱里，有卡尔·马克思、索尔斯坦·维布伦，还有像他们一样的作家们写的书。我反复读这些书，读得越多便越生气。我明白每一页纸上的每一个字。一开始，我喜欢那些话。辩证唯物主义——狡黠的搪塞——”杰克嘴里滚动着这些音节，带着一种钟爱的庄严——“目的论倾向。”
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是否公开哑巴用一块折叠整齐的手帕擦了擦额头。
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是否公开“但我想说的是这个：一个人知道，却又无法让别人明白，这时候他该怎么办？”
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是否公开辛格伸手拿过杯子，倒满酒，稳稳放进杰克瘀青的手里。“一醉方休，嗯？”杰克说，胳膊一抖，几滴酒洒在白色裤子上。“但你听着！我们的目光所及之处，都是刻薄和腐败。这个房间，这瓶葡萄酒，篮子里的这些水果，都是利润和亏损的产品。一个人活着，就必须被动接受这种卑鄙。我们吃的每一口饭，穿的每一件衣服，背后都有一个人累得要死——但似乎并没有人知道，大家都瞎了，哑了，呆了——愚蠢，卑鄙。”
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是否公开杰克握紧拳头压在太阳穴上。他的思绪已经横冲直撞，无法控制了。他想发狂，想跑出去，到拥挤的大街上找人好好打一架。
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是否公开哑巴一直耐心而专注地望着他，一边拿出自己的银色铅笔，在一张纸上认真地写下：“你是民主党还是共和党？”写完，他把纸从桌对面递给杰克。杰克一把抓在手里。屋子又开始在他周围旋转起来，他连字都看不清楚了。
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是否公开他盯着哑巴的脸，好让自己镇定下来。屋子里，似乎只有辛格的眼睛静止不动。那双眼睛变换着颜色，夹杂着琥珀色、灰色，还有一丝柔和的褐色。他久久地盯着那双眼睛，几乎快把自己催眠了。他没了狂躁的欲望，觉得重新平静下来。这双眼睛似乎能明白他想说的一切，而且也给他传递了信息。过了一会儿，屋子又不转了。
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是否公开“你懂了。”他的声音含混不清，“你明白我的意思。”
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是否公开远处的教堂传来柔和清脆的钟声。月光洒在隔壁的屋顶上，雪白一片，天空是一种温柔的夏季蓝。无须言语，两人心有灵犀：杰克找到住处之前，会在辛格这里住几天。酒喝完了，哑巴在床边的地上放了个垫子。杰克和衣而卧，立刻进入了梦乡。
读书笔记
是否公开Late in the afternoon Jake Blount awoke with the feeling that he had slept enough. The room in which he lay was small and neat, furnished with a bureau, a table, a bed, and a few chairs.On the bureau an electric fan turned its face slowly from one wall to another, and as the breeze from it passed Jake’s face he thought of cool water.By the window a man sat before the table and stared down at a chess game laid out before him.In the daylight the room was not familiar to Jake, but he recognized the man’s face instantly and it was as though he had known him a very long time.
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是否公开我的读书笔记
仅对会员开放网友的读书笔记
仅对会员开放Many memories were confused in Jake’s mind. He lay motionless with his eyes open and his hands turned palm upward.His hands were huge and very brown against the white sheet.When he held them up to his face he saw that they were scratched and bruised—and the veins were swollen as though he had been grasping hard at something for a long time.His face looked tired and unkempt.His brown hair fell down over his forehead and his mustache was awry.Even his wing-shaped eyebrows were rough and tousled.As he lay there his lips moved once or twice and his mustache jerked with a nervous quiver..
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是否公开我的读书笔记
仅对会员开放网友的读书笔记
仅对会员开放After a while he sat up and gave himself a thump on the side of his head with one of his big fists to straighten himself out. When he moved, the man playing chess looked up quickly and smiled at him.
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是否公开我的读书笔记
仅对会员开放网友的读书笔记
仅对会员开放“God, I’m thirsty，”Jake said.“I feel like the whole Russian army marched through my mouth in its stocking feet.”
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仅对会员开放The man looked at him, still smiling, and then suddenly he reached down on the other side of the table and brought up a frosted pitcher of ice water and a glass. Jake drank in great panting gulps—standing half-naked in the middle of the room, his head thrown back and one of his hands closed in a tense fist.He finished four glasses before he took a deep breath and relaxed a little.
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仅对会员开放Instantly certain recollections came to him. He couldn’t remember coming home with this man, but things that had happened later were clearer now.He had waked up soaking in a tub of cold water, and afterward they drank coffee and talked.He had got a lot of things off his chest and the man had listened.He had talked himself hoarse, but he could remember the expressions on the man’s face better than anything that was said.They had gone to bed in the morning with the shade pulled down so no light could come in.At first he would keep waking up with nightmares and have to turn the light on to get himself clear again.The light would wake this fellow also, but he hadn’t complained at all.
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仅对会员开放“How come you didn’t kick me out last night?”
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仅对会员开放The man only smiled again. Jake wondered why he was so quiet.He looked around for his clothes and saw that his suitcase was on the floor by the bed.He couldn’t remember how he had got it back from the restaurant where he owed for the drinks.His books, a white suit, and some shirts were all there as he had packed them.Quickly he began to dress himself.
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仅对会员开放An electric coffee-pot was perking on the table by the time he had his clothes on. The man reached into the pocket of the vest that hung over the back of a chair.He brought out a card and Jake took it questioningly.The man’s name—John Singer—was engraved in the center, and beneath this, written in ink with the same elaborate precision as the engraving, there was a brief message.
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仅对会员开放I am a deaf-mute, but I read the lips and understand what is said to me.Please do not shout.
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仅对会员开放The shock made Jake feel light and vacant. He and John Singer just looked at each other.
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仅对会员开放“I wonder how long it would have taken me to find that out，”he said.
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仅对会员开放Singer looked very carefully at his lips when he spoke—he had noticed that before. But a dummy！
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仅对会员开放They sat at the table and drank hot coffee out of blue cups. The room was cool and the half-drawn shades softened the hard glare from the windows.Singer brought from his closet a tin box that contained a loaf of bread, some oranges, and cheese.He did not eat much, but sat leaning back in his chair with one hand in his pocket.Jake ate hungrily.He would have to leave the place immediately and think things over.As long as he was stranded he ought to scout around for some sort of job in a hurry.The quiet room was too peaceful and comfortable to worry in—he would get out and walk by himself for a while.
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仅对会员开放“Are there any other deaf-mute people here?”he asked.“You have many friends?”
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仅对会员开放Singer was still smiling. He did not catch on to the words at first, and Jake had to repeat them.Singer raised his sharp, dark eyebrows and shook his head.
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仅对会员开放“Find it lonesome?”
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仅对会员开放The man shook his head in a way that might have meant either yes or no. They sat silently for a little while and then Jake got up to leave.He thanked Singer several times for the night’s lodging, moving his lips carefully so that he was sure to be understood.The mute only smiled again and shrugged his shoulders.When Jake asked if he could leave his suitcase under the bed for a few days the mute nodded that he could.
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仅对会员开放Then Singer took his hands from his pocket and wrote carefully on a pad of paper with a silver pencil. He shoved the pad over toward Jake.
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仅对会员开放I can put a mattress on the floor and you can stay here until you find a place.I am out most of the day.It will not be any trouble.
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仅对会员开放Jake felt his lips tremble with a sudden feeling of gratefulness. But he couldn’t accept.“Thanks，”he said，“I already got a place.”
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仅对会员开放As he was leaving, the mute handed him a pair of blue overalls, rolled into a tight bundle, and seventy-five cents. The overalls were filthy and as Jake recognized them they aroused in him a whirl of sudden memories from the past week.The money, Singer made him understand, had been in his pockets.
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仅对会员开放“Adios，”Jake said.“I’ll be back sometime soon.”
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仅对会员开放He left the mute standing in the doorway with his hands still in his pockets and the half-smile on his face. When he had gone down several steps of the stairs he turned and waved.The mute waved back to him and closed his door.
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仅对会员开放Outside the glare was sudden and sharp against his eyes. He stood on the sidewalk before the house, too dazzled at first by the sunlight to see very clearly.A youngun was sitting on the banisters of the house.He had seen her somewhere before.He remembered the boy’s shorts she was wearing and the way she squinted her eyes.
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仅对会员开放He held up the dirty roll of overalls.“I want to throw these away. Know where I can find a garbage can?”
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仅对会员开放The kid jumped down from the banisters.“It’s in the back yard. I’ll show you.”
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仅对会员开放He followed her through the narrow, dampish alley at the side of the house. When they came to the back yard Jake saw that two Negro men were sitting on the back steps.They were both dressed in white suits and white shoes.One of the Negroes was very tall and his tie and socks were brilliant green.The other was a light mulatto of average height.He rubbed a tin harmonica across his knee.In contrast with his tall companion his socks and tie were a hot red.
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仅对会员开放The kid pointed to the garbage can by the back fence and then turned to the kitchen window.“Portia！”she called.“Highboy and Willie here waiting for you.”
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仅对会员开放A soft voice answered from the kitchen.“You neen holler so loud. I know they is.I putting on my hat right now.”
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仅对会员开放Jake unrolled the overalls before throwing them away. They were stiff with mud.One leg was torn and a few drops of blood stained the front.He dropped them in the can.A Negro girl came out of the house and joined the white-suited boys on the steps.Jake saw that the youngun in shorts was looking at him very closely.She changed her weight from one foot to the other and seemed excited.
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仅对会员开放“Are you kin to Mister Singer?”she asked.
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仅对会员开放“Not a bit.”
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仅对会员开放“Good friend?”
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仅对会员开放“Good enough to spend the night with him.”
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仅对会员开放“I just wondered—”
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仅对会员开放“Which direction is Main Street?”
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仅对会员开放She pointed to the right.“Two blocks down this way.”
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仅对会员开放Jake combed his mustache with his fingers and started off. He jingled the seventy-five cents in his hand and bit his lower lip until it was mottled and scarlet.The three Negroes were walking slowly ahead of him, talking among themselves.Because he felt lonely in the unfamiliar town he kept close behind them and listened.The girl held both of them by the arm.She wore a green dress with a red hat and shoes.The boys walked very close to her.
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仅对会员开放“What we got planned for this evening?”she asked.
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仅对会员开放“It depend entirely upon you, Honey，”the tall boy said.“Willie and me don’t have no special plans.”
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仅对会员开放She looked from one to the other.“You all got to decide.”
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仅对会员开放“Well—”said the shorter boy in the red socks.“Highboy and me thought m-maybe us three go to church.”
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仅对会员开放The girl sang her answer in three different tones.“O-K—And after church I got a notion I ought to go and set with Father for a while—just a short while.”They turned at the first corner, and Jake stood watching them a moment before walking on.
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仅对会员开放The main street was quiet and hot, almost deserted. He had not realized until now that it was Sunday—and the thought of this depressed him.The awnings over the closed stores were raised and the buildings had a bare look in the bright sun.He passed the New York Café.The door was open, but the place looked empty and dark.He had not found any socks to wear that morning, and the hot pavement burned through the thin soles of his shoes.The sun felt like a hot piece of iron pressing down on his head.The town seemed more lonesome than any place he had ever known.The stillness of the street gave him a strange feeling.When he had been drunk the place had seemed violent and riotous.And now it was as though everything had come to a sudden, static halt.
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仅对会员开放He went into a fruit and candy store to buy a paper. The Help-Wanted column was very short.There were several calls for young men between twenty-five and forty with automobiles to sell various products on commission.These he skipped over quickly.An advertisement for a truck-driver held his attention for a few minutes.But the notice at the bottom interested him most It read：
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仅对会员开放Wanted—Experienced Mechanic.Sunny Dixie Show.
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仅对会员开放Apply Corner Weavers Lane&15th Street.
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仅对会员开放Without knowing it he had walked back to the door of the restaurant where he had spent his time during the past two weeks. This was the only place on the block besides the fruit store which was not closed.Jake decided suddenly to drop in and see Biff Brannon.
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仅对会员开放The café was very dark after the brightness outside.Everything looked dingier and quieter than he had remembered it.Brannon stood behind the cash register as usual, his arms folded over his chest.His good-looking plump wife sat filing her fingernails at the other end of the counter.Jake noticed that they glanced at each other as he came in.
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仅对会员开放“Afternoon，”said Brannon.
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仅对会员开放Jake felt something in the air. Maybe the fellow was laughing because he remembered things that had happened when he was drunk.Jake stood wooden and resentful.“Package of Target, please.”As Brannon reached beneath the counter for the tobacco Jake decided that he was not laughing.In the daytime the fellow’s face was not as hard-looking as it was at night.He was pale as though he had not slept, and his eyes had the look of a weary buzzard’s.
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仅对会员开放“Speak up，”Jake said.“How much do I owe you?”
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仅对会员开放Brannon opened a drawer and put on the counter a public-school tablet. Slowly he turned over the pages and Jake watched him.The tablet looked more like a private notebook than the place where he kept his regular accounts.There were long lines of figures, added, divided, and subtracted, and little drawings.He stopped at a certain page and Jake saw his last name written at the corner.On the page there were no figures—only small checks and crosses.At random across the page were drawn little round, seated cats with long curved lines for tails.Jake stared.The faces of the little cats were human and female.The faces of the little cats were Mrs.Brannon.
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仅对会员开放“I have checks here for the beers，”Brannon said.“And crosses for dinners and straight lines for the whiskey. Let me see—”Brannon rubbed his nose and his eyelids drooped down.Then he shut the tablet.“Approximately twenty dollars.”
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仅对会员开放“It’ll take me a long time，”Jake said.“But maybe you’ll get it.”
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仅对会员开放“There’s no big hurry.”
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仅对会员开放Jake leaned against the counter.“Say, what kind of a place is this town?”
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仅对会员开放“Ordinary，”Brannon said.“About like any other place the same size.”
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仅对会员开放“What population?”
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仅对会员开放“Around thirty thousand.”
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仅对会员开放Jake opened the package of tobacco and rolled himself a cigarette. His hands were shaking.“Mostly mills?”
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仅对会员开放“That’s right. Four big cotton mills—those are the main ones.A hosiery factory.Some gins and sawmills.”
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仅对会员开放“What kind of wages?”
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仅对会员开放“I’d say around ten or eleven a week on the average—but then of course they get laid off now and then. What makes you ask all this?You mean to try to get a job in a mill?”
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仅对会员开放Jake dug his fist into his eye and rubbed it sleepily.“Don’t know. I might and I might not.”He laid the newspaper on the counter and pointed out the advertisement he had just read.“I think I’ll go around and look into this.”
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仅对会员开放Brannon read and considered.“Yeah，”he said finally.“I’ve seen that show. It’s not much—just a couple of contraptions such as a flying-jinny and swings.It corrals the colored people and mill hands and kids.They move around to different vacant lots in town.”
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仅对会员开放“Show me how to get there.”
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仅对会员开放Brannon went with him to the door and pointed out the direction.“Did you go on home with Singer this morning?”
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仅对会员开放Jake nodded.
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仅对会员开放“What do you think of him?”
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仅对会员开放Jake bit his lips. The mute’s face was in his mind very clearly.It was like the face of a friend he had known for a long time.He had been thinking of the man ever since he had left his room.“I didn’t even know he was a dummy，”he said finally.
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仅对会员开放He began walking again down the hot, deserted street. He did not walk as a stranger in a strange town.He seemed to be looking for someone.Soon he entered one of the mill districts bordering the river.The streets became narrow and unpaved and they were not empty any longer.Groups of dingy, hungry-looking children called to each other and played games.The two-room shacks, each one like the other, were rotten and unpainted.The stink of food and sewage mingled with the dust in the air.The falls up the river made a faint rushing sound.People stood silently in doorways or lounged on steps.They looked at Jake with yellow, expressionless faces.He stared back at them with wide, brown eyes.He walked jerkily, and now and then he wiped his mouth with the hairy back of his hand.
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仅对会员开放At the end of Weavers Lane there was a vacant block. It had once been used as a junk yard for old automobiles.Rusted pieces of machinery and torn inner tubes still littered the ground.A trailer was parked in one corner of the lot, and nearby was a flying-jinny partly covered with canvas.
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仅对会员开放Jake approached slowly. Two little younguns in overalls stood before the flying-jinny.Near them, seated on a box, a Negro man drowsed in the late sunshine, his knees collapsed against each other.In one hand he held a sack of melted chocolate.Jake watched him stick his fingers in the miry candy and then lick them slowly.
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仅对会员开放“Who’s the manager of this outfit?”
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仅对会员开放The Negro thrust his two sweet fingers between his lips and rolled over them with his tongue.“He a red-headed man，”he said when he had finished.“That all I know, Cap’n.”
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仅对会员开放“Where’s he now?”
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仅对会员开放“He over there behind that largest wagon.”
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仅对会员开放Jake slipped off his tie as he walked across the grass and stuffed it into his pocket. The sun was beginning to set in the west.Above the black line of housetops the sky was warm crimson.The owner of the show stood smoking a cigarette by himself.His red hair sprang up like a sponge on the top of his head and he stared at Jake with gray, flabby eyes.
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仅对会员开放“You the manager?”
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仅对会员开放“Uh-huh. Patterson’s my name.”
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仅对会员开放“I come about the job in this morning’s paper.”
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仅对会员开放“Yeah. I don’t want no greenhorn.I need a experienced mechanic.”
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仅对会员开放“I got plenty of experience，”Jake said.
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仅对会员开放“What you ever done?”
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仅对会员开放“I’ve worked as a weaver and loom-fixer. I’ve worked in garages and an automobile assembly shop.All sorts of different things.”
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仅对会员开放Patterson guided him toward the partly covered flying-jinny. The motionless wooden horses were fantastic in the late afternoon sun.They pranced up statically, pierced by their dull gilt bars.The horse nearest Jake had a splintery wooden crack in its dingy rump and the eyes walled blind and frantic, shreds of paint peeled from the sockets.The motionless merry-go-round seemed to Jake like something in a liquor dream.
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仅对会员开放“I want a experienced mechanic to run this and keep the works in good shape，”Patterson said.
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仅对会员开放“I can do that all right.”
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仅对会员开放“It’s a two-handed job，”Patterson explained.“You’re in charge of the whole attraction. Besides looking after the machinery you got to keep the crowd in order.You got to be sure that everybody gets on has a ticket.You got to be sure that the tickets are O.K.and not some old dance-hall ticket.Everybody wants to ride them horses, and you’d be surprised what niggers will try to put over on you when they don’t have no money.You got to keep three eyes open all the time.”
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仅对会员开放Patterson led him to the machinery inside the circle of horses and pointed out the various parts. He adjusted a lever and the thin jangle of mechanical music began.The wooden cavalcade around them seemed to cut them off from the rest of the world.When the horses stopped, Jake asked a few questions and operated the mechanism himself.
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仅对会员开放“The fellow I had quit on me，”Patterson said when they had come out again into the lot.“I always hate to break in a new man.”
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仅对会员开放“When do I start?”
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仅对会员开放“Tomorrow afternoon. We run six days and nights a week—beginning at four and shutting up at twelve.You’re to come about three and help get things going.And it takes about a hour after the show to fold up for the night.”
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仅对会员开放“What about pay?”
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仅对会员开放“Twelve dollars.”
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仅对会员开放Jake nodded, and Patterson held out a dead-white, boneless hand with dirty fingernails.
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仅对会员开放It was late when he left the vacant lot. The hard, blue sky had blanched and in the east there was a white moon.Dusk softened the outline of the houses along the street.Jake did not return immediately through Weavers Lane, but wandered in the neighborhoods nearby.Certain smells, certain voices heard from a distance, made him stop short now and then by the side of the dusty street.He walked erratically, jerking from one direction to another for no purpose.His head felt very light, as though it were made of thin glass.A chemical change was taking place in him.The beers and whiskey he had stored so continuously in his system set in a reaction.He was sideswiped by drunkenness.The streets which had seemed so dead before were quick with life.There was a ragged strip of grass bordering the street, and as Jake walked along the ground seemed to rise nearer to his face.He sat down on the border of grass and leaned against a telephone pole.He settled himself comfortably, crossing his legs Turkish fashion and smoothing down the ends of his mustache.Words came to him and dreamily he spoke them aloud to himself.
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仅对会员开放“Resentment is the most precious flower of poverty. Yeah.”
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仅对会员开放It was good to talk. The sound of his voice gave him pleasure.The tones seemed to echo and hang on the air so that each word sounded twice.He swallowed and moistened his mouth to speak again.He wanted suddenly to return to the mute’s quiet room and tell him of the thoughts that were in his mind.It was a queer thing to want to talk with a deaf-mute.But he was lonesome.
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仅对会员开放The street before him dimmed with the coming evening. Occasionally men passed along the narrow street very close to him, talking in monotones to each other, a cloud of dust rising around their feet with each step.Or girls passed by together, or a mother with a child across her shoulder.Jake sat numbly for some time, and at last he got to his feet and walked on.
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仅对会员开放Weavers Lane was dark. Oil lamps made yellow, trembling patches of light in the doorways and windows.Some of the houses were entirely dark and the families sat on their front steps with only the reflections from a neighboring house to see by.A woman leaned out of a window and splashed a pail of dirty water into the street.A few drops of it splashed on Jake’s face.High, angry voices could be heard from the backs of some of the houses.From others there was the peaceful sound of a chair slowly rocking.
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仅对会员开放Jake stopped before a house where three men sat together on the front steps. A pale yellow light from inside the house shone on them.Two of the men wore overalls but no shirts and were barefooted.One of these was tall and loose-jointed.The other was small and he had a running sore on the corner of his mouth.The third man was dressed in shirt and trousers.He held a straw hat on his knee.
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仅对会员开放“Hey，”Jake said.
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仅对会员开放The three men stared at him with mill-sallow, dead-pan faces. They murmured but did not change their positions.Jake pulled the package of Target from his pocket and passed it around.He sat down on the bottom step and took off his shoes.The cool, damp ground felt good to his feet.
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仅对会员开放“Working now?”
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仅对会员开放“Yeah，”said the man with the straw hat.“Most of the time.”
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仅对会员开放Jake picked between his toes.“I got the Gospel in me，”he said.“I want to tell it to somebody.”
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仅对会员开放The men smiled. From across the narrow street there was the sound of a woman singing.The smoke from their cigarettes hung close around them in the still air.A little youngun passing along the street stopped and opened his fly to make water.
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仅对会员开放“There’s a tent around the corner and it’s Sunday，”the small man said finally.“You can go there and tell all the Gospel you want.”
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仅对会员开放“It’s not that kind. It’s better.It’s the truth.”
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仅对会员开放“What kind?”
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仅对会员开放Jake sucked his mustache and did not answer. After a while he said，“You ever have any strikes here?”
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仅对会员开放“Once，”said the tall man.“They had one of these here strikes around six years ago.”
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仅对会员开放“What happened?”
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仅对会员开放The man with the sore on his mouth shuffled his feet and dropped the stub of his cigarette to the ground.“Well—they just quit work because they wanted twenty cents a hour. There was about three hundred did it.They just hung around the streets all day.So the mill sent out trucks, and in a week the whole town was swarming with folks come here to get a job.”
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仅对会员开放Jake turned so that he was facing them. The men sat two steps above him so that he had to raise his head to look into their eyes.“Don’t it make you mad?”he asked.
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是否公开我的读书笔记
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仅对会员开放“How do you mean—mad?”
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仅对会员开放The vein in Jake’s forehead was swollen and scarlet.“Christamighty, man！I mean mad—m-a-d—mad.”He scowled up into their puzzled, sallow faces. Behind them, through the open front door he could see the inside of the house.In the front room there were three beds and a wash-stand.In the back room a barefooted woman sat sleeping in a chair.From one of the dark porches nearby there was the sound of a guitar.
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仅对会员开放“I was one of them come in on the trucks，”the tall man said.
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仅对会员开放“That makes no difference. What I’m trying to tell you is plain and simple.The bastards who own these mills are millionaires.While the doffers and carders and all the people behind the machines who spin and weave the cloth can’t hardly make enough to keep their guts quiet.See?So when you walk around the streets and think about it and see hungry, worn-out people and ricket-legged younguns, don’t it make you mad?Don’t it?”
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仅对会员开放Jake’s face was flushed and dark and his lips trembled. The three men looked at him warily.Then the man in the straw hat began to laugh.
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仅对会员开放“Go on and snicker. Sit there and bust your sides open.”
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是否公开我的读书笔记
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仅对会员开放The men laughed in the slow and easy way that three men laugh at one. Jake brushed the dirt from the soles of his feet and put on his shoes.His fists were closed tight and his mouth was contorted with an angry sneer.“Laugh—that’s all you’re good for.I hope you sit there and snicker’til you rot！”As he walked stiffly down the street the sound of their laughter and catcalls still followed him.
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仅对会员开放The main street was brightly lighted. Jake loitered on a corner, fondling the change in his pocket.His head throbbed, and although the night was hot a chill passed through his body.He thought of the mute and he wanted urgently to go back and sit with him awhile.In the fruit and candy store where he had bought the newspaper that afternoon he selected a basket of fruit wrapped in cellophane.The Greek behind the counter said the price was sixty cents, so that when he had paid he was left with only a nickel.As soon as he had come out of the store the present seemed a funny one to take a healthy man.A few grapes hung down below the cellophane, and he picked them off hungrily.
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仅对会员开放Singer was at home when he arrived. He sat by the window with the chess game laid out before him on the table.The room was just as Jake had left it, with the fan turned on and the pitcher of ice water beside the table.There was a panama hat on the bed and a paper parcel, so it seemed that the mute had just come in.He jerked his head toward the chair across from him at the table and pushed the chessboard to one side.He leaned back with his hands in his pockets, and his face seemed to question Jake about what had happened since he had left.
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仅对会员开放Jake put the fruit on the table.“For this afternoon，”he said.“The motto has been：Go out and find an octopus and put socks on it.”
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仅对会员开放The mute smiled, but Jake could not tell if he had caught what he had said. The mute looked at the fruit with surprise and then undid the cellophane wrappings.As he handled the fruits there was something very peculiar in the fellow’s face.Jake tried to understand this look and was stumped.Then Singer smiled brightly.
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仅对会员开放“I got a job this afternoon with a sort of show. I’m to run the flying-jinny.”
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仅对会员开放The mute seemed not at all surprised. He went into the closet and brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses.They drank in silence.Jake felt that he had never been in such a quiet room.The light above his head made a queer reflection of himself in the glowing wineglass he held before him—the same caricature of himself he had noticed many times before on the curved surfaces of pitchers or tin mugs—with his face egg-shaped and dumpy and his mustache straggling almost up to his ears.Across from him the mute held his glass in both hands.The wine began to hum through Jake’s veins and he felt himself entering again the kaleidoscope of drunkenness.Excitement made his mustache tremble jerkily.He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and fastened a wide, searching gaze on Singer.
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是否公开我的读书笔记
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仅对会员开放“I bet I’m the only man in this town that’s been mad—I’m talking about really mean mad—for ten solid long years. I damn near got in a fight just a little while ago.Sometimes it seems to me like I might even be crazy.I just don’t know.”
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仅对会员开放Singer pushed the wine toward his guest. Jake drank from the bottle and rubbed the top of his head.
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仅对会员开放“You see, it’s like I’m two people. One of me is an educated man.I been in some of the biggest libraries in the country.I read.I read all the time.I read books that tell the pure honest truth.Over there in my suitcase I have books by Karl Marx and Thorstein Veblen and such writers as them.I read them over and over, and the more I study the madder I get.I know every word printed on every page.To begin with I like words.Dialectic materialism—Jesuitical prevarication”—Jake rolled the syllables in his mouth with loving solemnity—“teleological propensity.”
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仅对会员开放The mute wiped his forehead with a neatly folded handkerchief.
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仅对会员开放“But what I’m getting at is this. When a person knows and can’t make the others understand, what does he do?”
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仅对会员开放Singer reached for a wineglass, filled it to the brim, and put it firmly into Jake’s bruised hand.“Get drunk, huh?”Jake said with a jerk of his arm that spilled drops of wine on his white trousers.“But listen！Wherever you look there’s meanness and corruption. This room, this bottle of grape wine, these fruits in the basket, are all products of profit and loss.A fellow can’t live without giving his passive acceptance to meanness.Somebody wears his tail to a frazzle for every mouthful we eat and every stitch we wear—and nobody seems to know.Everybody is blind, dumb, and blunt-headed—stupid and mean.”
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仅对会员开放Jake pressed his fists to his temples. His thoughts had careened in several directions and he could not get control of them.He wanted to go berserk.He wanted to get out and fight violently with someone in a crowded street.
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仅对会员开放Still looking at him with patient interest, the mute took out his silver pencil. He wrote very carefully on a slip of paper, Are you Democrat or Republican?and passed the paper across the table.Jake crumpled it in his hand.The room had begun to turn around him again and he could not even read.
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仅对会员开放He kept his eyes on the mute’s face to steady himself. Singer’s eyes were the only things in the room that did not seem to move.They were varied in color, flecked with amber, gray, and a soft brown.He stared at them so long that he almost hypnotized himself.He lost the urge to be riotous and felt calm again.The eyes seemed to understand all that he had meant to say and to hold some message for him.After a while the room was steady again.
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仅对会员开放“You get it，”he said in a blurred voice.“You know what I mean.”
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仅对会员开放From afar off there was the soft, silver ring of church bells. The moonlight was white on the roof next door and the sky was a gentle summer blue.It was agreed without words that Jake would stay with Singer a few days until he found a room.When the wine was finished the mute put a mattress on the floor beside the bed.Without removing any of his clothes Jake lay down and was instantly asleep.
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仅对会员开放
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Jake [dʒeɪk] |
adj.令人满意的;上等的 |
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quiver ['kwɪvə(r)] |
v.颤抖;振动 |
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chess [tʃes] |
n.国际象棋 |
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marches [mɑːtʃ] |
1. n. (尤指英格兰与苏格兰或威尔士的)边界地区, 2.动词march的第三人称单数形式 |
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tense [tens] |
adj.紧张的;绷紧的;拉紧的 |
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hoarse [hɔːs] |
adj.沙哑的;嘶哑的;刺耳的 |
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suitcase ['suːtkeɪs] |
n.手提箱 |
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engraving [ɪn'ɡreɪvɪŋ] |
n.雕刻的画;镌版术;雕版, |
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deaf-mute ['def'mjuːt] |
n.聋哑者 |
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vacant ['veɪkənt] |
adj.空虚的;空的;木然的 |
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dummy ['dʌmi] |
n.傀儡;假人;仿制品;笨蛋;哑巴 |
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scout [skaʊt] |
n.童子军;侦察员;守卫 |
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lonesome ['ləʊnsəm] |
adj.寂寞的;偏僻的;孤单的 |
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mute [mjuːt] |
a. 【语】无音的; |
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mattress ['mætrəs] |
n.床垫 |
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felted ['feltɪd] |
v. 把 ... 制成毡(使 ... 粘结) |
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past [pɑːst] |
a. 过去的; |
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squint [skwɪnt] |
n. 斜视；斜视眼; |
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harmonica [hɑː'mɒnɪkə] |
n.口琴;玻璃琴 |
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holler ['hɒlə(r)] |
v.叫喊;发牢骚 |
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excite [ɪk'saɪt] |
vt.使兴奋;使激动;刺激;激起 |
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Mister ['mɪstə(r)] |
n.先生(=Mr.) |
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unfamiliar [ˌʌnfə'mɪliə(r)] |
adj.不熟悉的 |
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Highboy ['haɪbɔɪ] |
n.有脚的高橱 |
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static ['stætɪk] |
adj.静态的;静止的 |
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advertisement [əd'vɜːtɪsmənt] |
n.广告 |
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weaver ['wiːvə(r)] |
n.织布工;编织者 |
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Biff [bɪf] |
n.击打;棍刺 |
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weary ['wɪəri] |
adj.疲倦的;厌烦的 |
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tablet ['tæblət] |
n.药片 |
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sawmill ['sɔːmɪl] |
n.锯机;锯木厂 |
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jerkily ['dʒɜːkɪli] |
adv.颠簸地 |
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grind [ɡraɪnd] |
v.磨;压迫;碾碎;磨得吱吱响;逐渐停顿 |
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lick [lɪk] |
v.舔;轻拍;击败;掠过 |
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sponge [spʌndʒ] |
n.海绵 |
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greenhorn ['ɡriːnhɔːn] |
n.初学者;新手;没经验的人 |
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motionless ['məʊʃnləs] |
adj.不动的;静止的 |
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pierce [pɪəs] |
v.刺穿;穿透;洞悉 |
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gilt [ɡɪlt] |
n.镀金;表面的装饰;小母猪 |
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socket ['sɒkɪt] |
n.插座;插口 |
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liquor ['lɪkə(r)] |
n.酒 |
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machinery [mə'ʃiːnəri] |
n.机械 |
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lever ['liːvə(r)] |
n.杠杆 |
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boneless ['bəʊnləs] |
adj.无骨的;去骨的 |
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fingernail ['fɪŋɡəneɪl] |
n.手指甲 |
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Dusk [dʌsk] |
n.黄昏;薄暮;幽暗 |
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dusty ['dʌsti] |
adj.满是灰尘的 |
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rag [ræɡ] |
n.破布;碎布;破衣服;(低劣的)报纸 |
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comfortably ['kʌmftəbli] |
adv.舒服地;容易地;充裕地 |
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Turkish ['tɜːkɪʃ] |
n.土耳其语;土耳其人 |
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Resentment [rɪ'zentmənt] |
n.怨恨;愤恨 |
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echo ['ekəʊ] |
①[C][U]回声；反响；共鸣; |
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moisten ['mɔɪsn] |
v.弄湿;使湿润;变湿 |
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queer [kwɪə(r)] |
a. 古怪的，奇怪的; |
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dim [dɪm] |
adj.暗淡的;模糊的;笨的 |
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monotone ['mɒnətəʊn] |
n.(说话或唱歌)单调;(文体的)单调;单调音 |
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pail [peɪl] |
n.桶;一桶之量 |
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loose-jointed ['luːs'dʒɔɪntɪd] |
adj.关节松弛的;自由行动的 |
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murmur ['mɜːmə(r)] |
n. 低沉连续的声音(如风的沙沙声、流水的淙淙声等); |
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Gospel ['ɡɒspl] |
n.新约圣经四福书之一;福音;真理 |
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mustache [mə'stɑːʃ] |
n.髭;小胡子;(动物)触须 |
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shuffle ['ʃʌfl] |
v.拖曳;搅乱;推诿;洗牌;移来移去 |
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stub [stʌb] |
n.烟蒂;残段;票根 |
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cent [sent] |
n.分 |
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swarm [swɔːm] |
n.群;蜂群 |
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vein [veɪn] |
n.静脉;血管 |
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scowl [skaʊl] |
n.愁容;皱眉 |
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bastard ['bɑːstəd] |
adj.私生的;错误的;混蛋的 |
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millionaire [ˌmɪljə'neə(r)] |
n.百万富翁 |
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doffer [dɒfə] |
n.盖板(脱棉器;小滚筒) |
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carder ['kɑːdə] |
n.梳刷的人;起毛工人 |
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flush [flʌʃ] |
v.冲洗;发红;将某人赶出 |
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bust [bʌst] |
n.半身像;胸部;搜查;失败 |
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sneer [snɪə(r)] |
n.冷笑;嘲笑 |
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fondle ['fɒndl] |
v.爱;爱抚;溺爱;抚弄 |
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throb [θrɒb] |
n.跳动，搏动，悸动 |
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nickel ['nɪkl] |
n.镍;镍币;五分镍币 |
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pitcher ['pɪtʃə(r)] |
n.水罐;【棒球】投手;【植】瓶状叶 |
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panama ['pænəmɑː] |
n.巴拿马 |
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parcel ['pɑːsl] |
n.包裹;部分;一块(土地) |
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jerk [dʒɜːk] |
v.急动;猛拉 |
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octopus ['ɒktəpəs] |
n.章鱼 |
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undo [ʌn'duː] |
v.解开;松开;取消 |
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stump [stʌmp] |
n.残株;烟蒂;讲演台 |
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fasten ['fɑːsn] |
vt.拴紧;使固定;系;强加于 |
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handkerchief ['hæŋkətʃɪf] |
n.手帕;方巾;围巾 |
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bruise [bruːz] |
n.瘀青;擦伤;挫伤 |
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passive ['pæsɪv] |
adj.被动的;消极的 |
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mouthful ['maʊθfʊl] |
n.一口;又长又拗口的词 |
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stitch [stɪtʃ] |
n.一针 |
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berserk [bə'zɜːk] |
adj.狂暴的;狂怒的 |
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Democrat ['deməkræt] |
n.民主主义者 |
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fleck [flek] |
n.斑点;微粒 |
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amber ['æmbə(r)] |
n.琥珀;琥珀色 |
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blur [blɜː(r)] |
v.弄脏;使 ... 模糊 |
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afar [ə'fɑː(r)] |
adv.在远处;从远处 |
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Jake [dʒeɪk] |
adj.令人满意的;上等的 |
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mute [mjuːt] |
a. 【语】无音的; |
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