Jacqueline Woodson: What reading slowly taught me about writing | TED

譯者: Clement Fu 審譯者: Carol Wang

很久以前有一位巨人，

A long time ago, there lived a Giant,

a Selfish Giant, whose stunning garden was the most beautiful in all the land.

這位自私的巨人 有美絕各地的迷人花園。

One evening, this Giant came home

一天黃昏，巨人回到家時，

and found all these children playing in his garden,

發現這班小孩 在他的花園裡遊戲，

and he became enraged.

他大為光火。

"My own garden is my own garden!"

「我自己的花園 就是我自己的花園！」

the Giant said.

巨人這麼說。

And he built this high wall around it.

然後，他在花園四周築了道高牆。

The author Oscar Wilde wrote the story of "The Selfish Giant" in 1888.

1888 年，王爾德（Oscar Wilde） 寫了這故事《自私的巨人》，

Almost a hundred years later, that Giant moved into my Brooklyn childhood

及至百年後，那巨人搬進來 我在布魯克林區的童年，

and never left.

就再沒離開。

I was raised in a religious family,

我出生在宗教家庭，

and I grew up reading both the Bible and the Quran.

讀著《聖經》和《古蘭經》長大。

The hours of reading, both religious and recreational,

宗教閱讀加上休閒閱讀的時間，

far outnumbered the hours of television-watching.

遠遠超過看電視的時間。

Now, on any given day, you could find my siblings and I

那時候的任何一天，

都可見到我和兄弟姊妹 蜷在家中一隅閱讀，

curled up in some part of our apartment reading,

sometimes unhappily,

有時讀得並不高興，

because on summer days in New York City, the fire hydrant blasted,

因為在盛夏時節裡， 紐約市街上消防栓射水降溫，

and to our immense jealousy, we could hear our friends down there

便聽見其他小朋友 在樓下的噴水中玩，

playing in the gushing water,

無比歡樂的笑聲 從敞開的窗戶傳到耳邊，

their absolute joy making its way up through our open windows.

好教人羨慕。

But I learned that the deeper I went into my books,

但我體會到，愈潛心於書本裡、

the more time I took with each sentence,

字斟句酌愈久、

the less I heard the noise of the outside world.

外界的噪音聽到得就愈少。

And so, unlike my siblings, who were racing through books,

不同於兄弟姊妹看書一目十行，

I read slowly --

我卻慢慢閱讀——

very, very slowly.

十分、十分地緩慢。

I was that child with her finger running beneath the words,

兒時我是用手指指著字讀書的，

until I was untaught to do this; told big kids don't use their fingers.

直到被告知大孩子不指讀後， 我才改掉這個毛病。

In third grade, we were made to sit with our hands folded on our desk,

小學三年級時， 我們要疊起雙手安放桌上，

unclasping them only to turn the pages, then returning them to that position.

坐好讀書，翻頁時才張開手， 然後又要放好。

Our teacher wasn't being cruel.

並非是老師苛刻，

It was the 1970s,

當時是二十世紀七十年代，

and her goal was to get us reading not just on grade level

老師旨在教曉我們閱讀理解，

but far above it.

力臻更高年級水平，

And we were always being pushed to read faster.

因此常常敦促我們閱讀快一點。

But in the quiet of my apartment, outside of my teacher's gaze,

但在靜謐的家中， 沒有老師的注目下，

I let my finger run beneath those words.

我就讓手指放行於文字之間。

And that Selfish Giant again told me his story,

然後，自私的巨人 又再敘說他的故事，

how he had felt betrayed by the kids sneaking into his garden,

小孩背著他侵越其花園 是如何讓他感到背叛，

how he had built this high wall,

他怎樣築起這道高牆，

and it did keep the children out,

高牆又確實把小孩拒於園外，

but a grey winter fell over his garden

灰色的冬天卻在他的花園降臨，

and just stayed and stayed.

久久不願離去。

With each rereading, I learned something new

每一次反復閱讀，我都有新的察見：

about the hard stones of the roads that the kids were forced to play on

比如小孩被逐出花園後，

被迫在街上玩地上那些堅硬的石子；

when they got expelled from the garden,

about the gentleness of a small boy that appeared one day,

比如某天出現的小孩的彬彬有禮，

and even about the Giant himself.

甚至對巨人本身也刮目相看。

Maybe his words weren't rageful after all.

也許，他說的話不是出於憤怒，

Maybe they were a plea for empathy,

也許話裡是求同情，

for understanding.

求理解。

"My own garden is my own garden."

「我自己的花園 是我自己的花園呀」。

Years later, I would learn of a writer named John Gardner

多年後，適逢作家約翰‧加德納 （John Gardner）的灼見，

who referred to this as the "fictive dream,"

稱之為「虛構之夢」，

or the "dream of fiction,"

或「虛幻之夢」，

and I would realize that this was where I was inside that book,

我發覺「虛構之夢」 即是我置身於書中，

spending time with the characters and the world that the author had created

作者邀我進入其創造的世界，

and invited me into.

與眾人物共渡時光。

As a child, I knew that stories were meant to be savored,

小時候我知道故事應該細細品味，

that stories wanted to be slow,

故事想要緩慢，

and that some author had spent months, maybe years, writing them.

有的作者花了數月甚至數年才寫成。

And my job as the reader --

而我身為讀者——

especially as the reader who wanted to one day become a writer --

特別是想在某天成為作者的讀者——

was to respect that narrative.

要尊重那篇故事。

Long before there was cable or the internet or even the telephone,

早在有線、網路，甚至電話出現前，

there were people sharing ideas and information and memory through story.

人們就通過故事 來分享意念、資訊和記憶，

It's one of our earliest forms of connective technology.

是我們最早的聯繫技術形式之一。

It was the story of something better down the Nile

是尼羅河沿岸的更美好的故事

that sent the Egyptians moving along it,

促使埃及人沿河往下游發展，

the story of a better way to preserve the dead

是講述更好保存軀體方法的故事，

that brought King Tut's remains into the 21st century.

因而讓法老王圖坦卡門的遺骸 得以在二十一世紀重現。

And more than two million years ago,

而在二百多萬年前，

when the first humans began making tools from stone,

當第一代人類開始製造石器時，

someone must have said, "What if?"

一定有人說過： 「若是（記錄下來）呢？」

And someone else remembered the story.

而定有別人記住了這故事。

And whether they told it through words or gestures or drawings,

不論故事是通過口耳或手勢、 還是通過畫相傳，

it was passed down; remembered:

故事流傳下來，被人記住了：

hit a hammer and hear its story.

錘子聲下，聽見故事的鏗鏘。

The world is getting noisier.

世界變得更嘈雜，

We've gone from boomboxes

從便攜播放器、

to Walkmen to portable CD players

隨身聽、便攜鐳射唱盤、

to iPods

再到 iPod ，

to any song we want, whenever we want it.

我們隨時想聽就能聽任意一首歌曲。

We've gone from the four television channels of my childhood

從我兒時只有四個電視頻道的時代，

to the seeming infinity of cable and streaming.

到今天數之不盡的 有線頻道和線上資源。

As technology moves us faster and faster through time and space,

隨著科技挾著我們 在時空越來越快地穿梭，

it seems to feel like story is getting pushed out of the way,

故事似乎日漸讓路，被推到一旁，

I mean, literally pushed out of the narrative.

名副其實地被攆出了敘述之外。

But even as our engagement with stories change,

即使與故事的結緣有變化，

or the trappings around it morph from book to audio to Instagram to Snapchat,

或是羈絆從書本 蛻變成聲音、IG、Snapchat，

we must remember our finger beneath the words.

我們須記住放在字裡行間的手指。

Remember that story, regardless of the format,

記住故事，不論形式，

has always taken us to places we never thought we'd go,

總讓我們走進意想不到的地方，

introduced us to people we never thought we'd meet

牽來意想不到的人，

and shown us worlds that we might have missed.

以及讓我們看清本會擦身而過的世界。

So as technology keeps moving faster and faster,

因此，哪怕科技繼續越發展越快，

I am good with something slower.

我依然悠然自得地慢慢閱讀。

My finger beneath the words has led me to a life of writing books

字裡行間的手指引我踏上寫作生涯，

for people of all ages,

為所有年紀的人而寫，

books meant to be read slowly,

那供人慢慢閱讀、

to be savored.

細心品味的書。

My love for looking deeply and closely at the world,

我愛深入細看世界，

for putting my whole self into it, and by doing so,

全身心投入其中，

這讓我看到一個故事的無盡可能，

seeing the many, many possibilities of a narrative,

turned out to be a gift,

這種愛原來是天賜禮物，

because taking my sweet time

因為慢慢地享受這美好時光，

taught me everything I needed to know about writing.

教會我寫作所需的一切。

And writing taught me everything I needed to know about creating worlds

寫作讓我通曉怎樣創造世界，

where people could be seen and heard,

讓身在其中的人 可以被看見和聽見，

where their experiences could be legitimized,

人人的經歷皆自成方圓、頭頭是道，

and where my story, read or heard by another person,

而當別人讀到、聽到我的故事， 會對他們有所啟發，

inspired something in them that became a connection between us,

變成我們之間的聯繫、

a conversation.

一段對話。

And isn't that what this is all about --

這難道不是這一切終究所願 ——

finding a way, at the end of the day, to not feel alone in this world,

找到一種方式， 當一天將盡時，不覺孤單在世，

and a way to feel like we've changed it before we leave?

找到一種方式， 讓離開時似曾沿途改變過？

Stone to hammer, man to mummy,

從石到錘、血肉之軀到木乃伊、

idea to story -- and all of it, remembered.

從意念到故事 —— 這一切但願為人記住。

Sometimes we read to understand the future.

我們閱讀，有時為了解未來；

Sometimes we read to understand the past.

我們閱讀，有時為了解過去。

We read to get lost, to forget the hard times we're living in,

我們閱讀為了忘卻、忘掉身處時艱，

and we read to remember those who came before us,

我們也閱讀，以記住前人，

who lived through something harder.

那些曾經歷比我們更苦歲月的人。

I write for those same reasons.

我寫作，同樣為這些理由。

Before coming to Brooklyn, my family lived in Greenville, South Carolina,

到布魯克林區前，我們一家 住在南卡羅萊納州格林維爾，

in a segregated neighborhood called Nicholtown.

一個種族隔離的社區， 名叫 Nicholtown。

All of us there were the descendants of a people

那裡，我們都是一群

who had not been allowed to learn to read or write.

讀書寫字不被應許的人們的後裔。

Imagine that:

想像一下：

the danger of understanding how letters form words,

學習認字會招來殺身之禍，

the danger of words themselves,

字句本身帶來的危險，

the danger of a literate people and their stories.

一群知書識字的人 及其故事會來的危險。

But against this backdrop of being threatened with death

儘管當時的時勢下，

for holding onto a narrative,

堅持敘述故事，世道便以死懼之，

our stories didn't die,

我們的故事卻不死，

because there is yet another story beneath that one.

因為故事底下，還疊著另一個故事，

And this is how it has always worked.

古往今來都是這樣走來。

For as long as we've been communicating,

只要我們仍在溝通，

there's been the layering to the narrative,

故事便層層相疊，

the stories beneath the stories and the ones beneath those.

故事疊著故事，環環相扣。

This is how story has and will continue to survive.

故事就這麼一路走來，綿綿不息。

As I began to connect the dots that connected the way I learned to write

當我將連接我學習寫作 和學會閱讀的點

and the way I learned to read

to an almost silenced people,

與一群幾乎噤聲的人民連起來時，

I realized that my story was bigger and older and deeper

我發覺我的故事 實是更大、更古、更深，

than I would ever be.

遠超越我本身，

And because of that, it will continue.

故事因此而源遠流長。

Among these almost-silenced people

在這些幾乎噤聲的人民中，

there were the ones who never learned to read.

有一些人畢生從未學會閱讀。

Their descendants, now generations out of enslavement,

他們的後裔今已脫離了奴隸制數代，

if well-off enough,

若家境許可的話，

had gone on to college, grad school, beyond.

上到大學、研究院 以及更高程度的不乏其人。

Some, like my grandmother and my siblings, seemed to be born reading,

一些人，如我祖母和兄弟姊妹， 像是生而會閱讀，

as though history stepped out of their way.

彷彿歷史為他們讓開了路。

Some, like my mother, hitched onto the Great Migration wagon --

一些人，如家母 便躍上了大遷徙的馬車——

which was not actually a wagon --

那不是真的馬車——

and kissed the South goodbye.

吻別南部往北去。

But here is the story within that story:

但那故事中還孕育這故事：

those who left and those who stayed

離開的人也好，留下的人也好

carried with them the history of a narrative,

身上懷著一個故事的歷史，

knew deeply that writing it down wasn't the only way they could hold on to it,

清楚知道寫下來 不是唯一保存故事的方式，

knew they could sit on their porches or their stoops at the end of a long day

知道在漫長一天結束時， 坐在門廊、門階上，

and spin a slow tale for their children.

向子女慢慢講述 逸文軼事也是保存的方式。

They knew they could sing their stories through the thick heat of picking cotton

他們知道，在撿棉花、 採煙草的炎熱中，

and harvesting tobacco,

也可以把故事唱成歌，

knew they could preach their stories and sew them into quilts,

他們知道其故事也可化成佈道 或縫成拼布被褥，

turn the most painful ones into something laughable,

將至痛化作插科打諢，也未嘗不可，

and through that laughter, exhale the history a country

通過逗人發笑，

揭露歷史怎樣一而再、再而三地

that tried again and again and again

to steal their bodies,

試著偷走他們的身軀、

their spirit

他們的精神

and their story.

和他們的故事。

So as a child, I learned to imagine an invisible finger

小時候，我學會想像一根無形的手指

taking me from word to word,

為我指過一字接一字，

from sentence to sentence,

一句接一句，

from ignorance to understanding.

從無知指向明理。

So as technology continues to speed ahead,

隨著科技不斷邁進，

I continue to read slowly,

我仍然故我，慢慢閱讀，

knowing that I am respecting the author's work

心知道這是我向作者的著作致敬，

and the story's lasting power.

以及向故事歷久不衰的力量致敬。

And I read slowly to drown out the noise

慢慢閱讀使我脫離了噪音，

and remember those who came before me,

讓我記住可能是人類先驅的前人，

who were probably the first people who finally learned to control fire

他們終於學會控制火種，

and circled their new power

他們圍繞在

of flame and light and heat.

火焰、光和熱的新力量周圍。

And I read slowly to remember the Selfish Giant,

慢慢閱讀也讓我記住那自私的巨人，

how he finally tore that wall down

他怎樣終於毀掉那道牆，

and let the children run free through his garden.

讓小孩在他的花園自由奔跑。

慢慢閱讀讓我向祖先們致敬，

And I read slowly to pay homage to my ancestors,

who were not allowed to read at all.

他們完全被禁止讀書識字。

They, too, must have circled fires,

他們定也曾圍著篝火，

speaking softly of their dreams,

輕聲細述他們的夢想、

their hopes, their futures.

他們的希望、他們的未來。

Each time we read, write or tell a story,

每一次我們讀、寫，或說故事，

we step inside their circle,

我們都踏進他們的圈子，

and it remains unbroken.

圈子依舊堅不可摧。

And the power of story lives on.

而故事的力量永垂不朽。

Thank you.

謝謝。

(Applause)

(掌聲)