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莫言演讲稿朗诵(6篇范文)

发布时间:2022-01-08 19:09:16 查看人数:19

莫言演讲稿朗诵(6篇范文)

第1篇 莫言诺贝尔文学奖致辞英文演讲稿

以下这篇演讲稿是中国当代著名作家莫言2019年获得诺贝尔文学奖时在瑞典学院发表的领奖演讲《讲故事的人》(storyteller),莫言在这次演讲中追忆了自己的母亲,回顾了文学创作之路,并与听众分享了三个意味深长的“故事”,讲述了自己如何成为一个用笔来讲故事的人的过程。莫言表示,自己今后还要继续讲自己的故事。

distinguished members of the swedish academy, ladies and gentlemen:through the mediums of television and the internet, i imagine that everyone here has at least a nodding acquaintance with far-off northeast gaomi township. you may have seen my ninety-year-old father, as well as my brothers, my sister, my wife and my daughter, even my granddaughter, now a year and four months old. but the person who is most on my mind at this moment, my mother, is someone you will never see. many people have shared in the honor of winning this prize, everyone but her.

尊敬的瑞典学院各位院士,女士们、先生们:通过电视或网络,我想在座的各位,对遥远的高密东北乡,已经有了或多或少的了解。你们也许看到了我的九十岁的老父亲,看到了我的哥哥姐姐我的妻子女儿和我的一岁零四个月的外孙子,但是有一个此刻我最想念的人,我的母亲,你们永远无法看到了。我获奖后,很多人分享了我的光荣,但我的母亲却无法分享了。

my mother was born in 1922 and died in 1994. we buried her in a peach orchard east of the village. last year we were forced to move her grave farther away from the village in order to make room for a proposed rail line. when we dug up the grave, we saw that the coffin had rotted away and that her body had merged with the damp earth around it. so we dug up some of that soil, a symbolic act, and took it to the new gravesite. that was when i grasped the knowledge that my mother had become part of the earth, and that when i spoke to mother earth, i was really speaking to my mother.

我母亲生于1922年,卒于1994年。她的骨灰,埋葬在村庄东边的桃园里。去年,一条铁路要从那儿穿过,我们不得不将她的坟墓迁移到距离村子更远的地方。掘开坟墓后,我们看到,棺木已经腐朽,母亲的骨殖,已经与泥土混为一体。我们只好象征性地挖起一些泥土,移到新的墓穴里。也就是从那一时刻起,我感到,我的母亲是大地的一部分,我站在大地上的诉说,就是对母亲的诉说。

i was my mother's youngest child. my earliest memory was of taking our only vacuum bottle to the public canteen for drinking water. weakened by hunger, i dropped the bottle and broke it. scared witless, i hid all that day in a haystack. toward evening, i heard my mother calling my childhood name, so i crawled out of my hiding place, prepared to receive a beating or a scolding. but mother didn't hit me, didn't even scold me. she just rubbed my head and heaved a sigh.

我是我母亲最小的孩子。我记忆中最早的一件事,是提着家里唯一的一把热水壶去公共食堂打开水。因为饥饿无力,失手将热水瓶打碎,我吓得要命,钻进草垛,一天没敢出来。傍晚的时候我听到母亲呼唤我的乳名,我从草垛里钻出来,以为会受到打骂,但母亲没有打我也没有骂我,只是抚摸着我的头,口中发出长长的叹息。

my most painful memory involved going out in the collective's field with mother to glean ears of wheat. the gleaners scattered when they spotted the watchman. but mother, who had bound feet, could not run; she was caught and slapped so hard by the watchman, a hulk of a man, that she fell to the ground. the watchman confiscated the wheat we'd gleaned and walked off whistling. as she sat on the ground, her lip bleeding, mother wore a look of hopelessness i'll never forget. years later, when i encountered the watchman, now a gray-haired old man, in the marketplace, mother had to stop me from going up to avenge her. "son," she said evenly, "the man who hit me and this man are not the same person."

我记忆中最痛苦的一件事,就是跟着母亲去集体的地理拣麦穗,看守麦田的人来了,拣麦穗的人纷纷逃跑,我母亲是小脚,跑不快,被捉住,那个身材高大的看守人煽了她一个耳光,她摇晃着身体跌倒在地,看守人没收了我们拣到的麦穗,吹着口哨扬长而去。我母亲嘴角流血,坐在地上,脸上那种绝望的神情深我终生难忘。多年之后,当那个看守麦田的人成为一个白发苍苍的老人,在集市上与我相逢,我冲上去想找他报仇,母亲拉住了我,平静的对我说:“儿子,那个打我的人,与这个老人,并不是一个人。”

my clearest memory is of a moon festival day, at noontime, one of those rare occasions when we ate jiaozi at home, one bowl apiece. an aging beggar came to our door while we were at the table, and when i tried to send him away with half a bowlful of dried sweet potatoes, he reacted angrily: "i'm an old man," he said. "you people are eating jiaozi, but want to feed me sweet potatoes. how heartless can you be?" i reacted just as angrily: "we're lucky if we eat jiaozi a couple of times a year, one small bowlful apiece, barely enough to get a taste! you should be thankful we're giving you sweet potatoes, and if you don't want them, you can get the hell out of here!" after (dressing me down) reprimanding me, mother dumped her half bowlful of jiaozi into the old man's bowl.my most remorseful memory involves helping mother sell cabbages at market, and me overcharging an old villager one jiao – intentionally or not, i can't recall – before heading off to school. when i came home that afternoon, i saw that mother was crying, something she rarely did. instead of scolding me, she merely said softly, "son, you embarrassed your mother today."

我记得最深刻的一件事是一个中秋节的中午,我们家难得的包了一顿饺子,每人只有一碗。正当我们吃饺子时,一个乞讨的老人来到了我们家门口,我端起半碗红薯干打发他,他却愤愤不平地说:“我是一个老人,你们吃饺子,却让我吃红薯干。你们的心是怎么长的?”我气急败坏的说:“我们一年也吃不了几次饺子,一人一小碗,连半饱都吃不了!给你红薯干就不错了,你要就要,不要就滚!”母亲训斥了我,然后端起她那半碗饺子,倒进了老人碗里。我最后悔的一件事,就是跟着母亲去卖白菜,有意无意的多算了一位买白菜的老人一毛钱。算完钱我就去了学校。当我放学回家时,看到很少流泪的母亲泪流满面。母亲并没有骂我,只是轻轻的说:“儿子,你让娘丢了脸。”

mother contracted a serious lung disease when i was still in my teens. hunger, disease, and too much work made things extremely hard on our family. the road ahead looked especially bleak, and i had a bad feeling about the future, worried that mother might take her own life. every day, the first thing i did when i walked in the door after a day of hard labor was call out for mother. hearing her voice was like giving my heart a new lease on life. but not hearing her threw me into a panic. i'd go looking for her in the side building and in the mill. one day, after searching everywhere and not finding her, i sat down in the yard and cried like a baby. that is how she found me when she walked into the yard carrying a bundle of firewood on her back. she was very unhappy with me, but i could not tell her what i was afraid of. she knew anyway. "son," she said, "don't worry, there may be no joy in my life, but i won't leave you till the god of the underworld calls me."

我十几岁时,母亲患了严重的肺病,饥饿,病痛,劳累,使我们这个家庭陷入了困境,看不到光明和希望。我产生了一种强烈的不祥之兆,以为母亲随时都会自己寻短见。每当我劳动归来,一进大门就高喊母亲,听到她的回应,心中才感到一块石头落了地。如果一时听不到她的回应,我就心惊胆战,跑到厨房和磨坊里寻找。有一次找遍了所有的房间也没有见到母亲的身影,我便坐在了院子里大哭。这时母亲背着一捆柴草从外面走进来。她对我的哭很不满,但我又不能对她说出我的担忧。母亲看到我的心思,她说:“孩子你放心,尽管我活着没有一点乐趣,但只要阎王爷不叫我,我是不会去的。”

i was born ugly. villagers often laughed in my face, and school bullies sometimes beat me up because of it. i'd run home crying, where my mother would say, "you're not ugly, son. you've got a nose and two eyes, and there's nothing wrong with your arms and legs, so how could you be ugly? if you have a good heart and always do the right thing, what is considered ugly becomes beautiful." later on, when i moved to the city, there were educated people who laughed at me behind my back, some even to my face; but when i recalled what mother had said, i just calmly offered my apologies.

我生来相貌丑陋,村子里很多人当面嘲笑我,学校里有几个性格霸蛮的同学甚至为此打我。我回家痛苦,母亲对我说:“儿子,你不丑,你不缺鼻子不缺眼,四肢健全,丑在哪里?而且只要你心存善良,多做好事,即便是丑也能变美。”后来我进入城市,有一些很有文化的人依然在背后甚至当面嘲弄我的相貌,我想起了母亲的话,便心平气和地向他们道歉。

my illiterate mother held people who could read in high regard. we were so poor we often did not know where our next meal was coming from, yet she never denied my request to buy a book or something to write with. by nature hard working, she had no use for lazy children, yet i could skip my chores as long as i had my nose in a book.

我母亲不识字,但对识字的人十分敬重。我们家生活困难,经常吃了上顿没下顿。但只要我对她提出买书买文具的要求,她总是会满足我。她是个勤劳的人,讨厌懒惰的孩子,但只要是我因为看书耽误了干活,她从来没批评过我。

a storyteller once came to the marketplace, and i sneaked off to listen to him. she was unhappy with me for forgetting my chores. but that night, while she was stitching padded clothes for us under the weak light of a kerosene lamp, i couldn't keep from retelling stories i'd heard that day. she listened impatiently at first, since in her eyes professional storytellers were smooth-talking men in a dubious profession. nothing good ever came out of their mouths. but slowly she was dragged into my retold stories, and from that day on, she never gave me chores on market day, unspoken permission to go to the marketplace and listen to new stories. as repayment for mother's kindness and a way to demonstrate my memory, i'd retell the stories for her in vivid detail. it did not take long to find retelling someone else's stories unsatisfying, so i began embellishing my narration. i'd say things i knew would please mother, even changed the ending once in a while. and she wasn't the only member of my audience, which later included my older sisters, my aunts, even my maternal grandmother. sometimes, after my mother had listened to one of my stories, she'd ask in a care-laden voice, almost as if to herself: "what will you be like when you grow up, son? might you wind up prattling for a living one day?"

有一段时间,集市上来了一个说书人。我偷偷地跑去听书,忘记了她分配给我的活儿。为此,母亲批评了我,晚上当她就着一盏小油灯为家人赶制棉衣时,我忍不住把白天从说书人听来的故事复述给她听,起初她有些不耐烦,因为在她心目中说书人都是油嘴滑舌,不务正业的人,从他们嘴里冒不出好话来。但我复述的故事渐渐的吸引了她,以后每逢集日她便不再给我排活,默许我去集上听书。为了报答母亲的恩情,也为了向她炫耀我的记忆力,我会把白天听到的故事,绘声绘色地讲给她听。很快的,我就不满足复述说书人讲的故事了,我在复述的过程中不断的添油加醋,我会投我母亲所好,编造一些情节,有时候甚至改变故事的结局。我的听众也不仅仅是我的母亲,连我的姐姐,我的婶婶,我的奶奶都成为我的听众。我母亲在听完我的故事后,有时会忧心忡忡地,像是对我说,又像是自言自语:“儿啊,你长大后会成为一个什么人呢?难道要靠耍贫嘴吃饭吗?”

i knew why she was worried. talkative kids are not well thought of in our village, for they can bring trouble to themselves and to their families. there is a bit of a young me in the talkative boy who falls afoul of villagers in my story "bulls." mother habitually cautioned me not to talk so much, wanting me to be a taciturn, smooth and steady youngster. instead i was possessed of a dangerous combination – remarkable speaking skills and the powerful desire that went with them. my ability to tell stories brought her joy, but that created a dilemma for her.

我理解母亲的担忧,因为在村子里,一个贫嘴的孩子,是招人厌烦的,有时候还会给自己和家庭带来麻烦。我在小说《牛》里所写的那个因为话多被村子里厌恶的孩子,就有我童年时的影子。我母亲经常提醒我少说话,她希望我能做一个沉默寡言、安稳大方的孩子。但在我身上,却显露出极强的说话能力和极大的说话欲望,这无疑是极大的危险,但我说的故事的能力,又带给了她愉悦,这使他陷入深深的矛盾之中。

a popular saying goes "it is easier to change the course of a river than a person's nature." despite my parents' tireless guidance, my natural desire to talk never went away, and that is what makes my name – mo yan, or "don't speak" – an ironic expression of self-mockery. after dropping out of elementary school, i was too small for heavy labor, so i became a cattle- and sheep-herder on a nearby grassy riverbank. the sight of my former schoolmates playing in the schoolyard when i drove my animals past the gate always saddened me and made me aware of how tough it is for anyone – even a child – to leave the group.

俗话说“江山易改、本性难移”,尽管我有父母亲的谆谆教导,但我并没有改掉我喜欢说话的天性,这使得我的名字“莫言”,很像对自己的讽刺。我小学未毕业即辍学,因为年幼体弱,干不了重活,只好到荒草滩上去放牧牛羊。当我牵着牛羊从学校门前路过,看到昔日的同学在校园里打打闹闹,我心中充满悲凉,深深地体会到一个人,哪怕是一个孩子,离开群体后的痛苦。 俗话说“江山易改、本性难移”,尽管我有父母亲的谆谆教导,但我并没有改掉我喜欢说话的天性,这使得我的名字“莫言”,很像对自己的讽刺。

i turned the animals loose on the riverbank to graze beneath a sky as blue as the ocean and grass-carpeted land as far as the eye could see – not another person in sight, no human sounds, nothing but bird calls above me. i was all by myself and terribly lonely; my heart felt empty. sometimes i lay in the grass and watched clouds float lazily by, which gave rise to all sorts of fanciful images. that part of the country is known for its tales of foxes in the form of beautiful young women, and i would fantasize a fox-turned-beautiful girl coming to tend animals with me. she never did come. once, however, a fiery red fox bounded out of the brush in front of me, scaring my legs right out from under me. i was still sitting there trembling long after the fox had vanished. sometimes i'd crouch down beside the cows and gaze into their deep blue eyes, eyes that captured my reflection. at times i'd have a dialogue with birds in the sky, mimicking their cries, while at other times i'd divulge my hopes and desires to a tree. but the birds ignored me, and so did the trees. years later, after i'd become a novelist, i wrote some of those fantasies into my novels and stories. people frequently bombard me with compliments on my vivid imagination, and lovers of literature often ask me to divulge my secret to developing a rich imagination. my only response is a wan smile.

到了荒滩上,我把牛羊放开,让它们自己吃草。蓝天如海,草地一望无际,周围看不到一个人影,没有人的声音,只有鸟儿在天上鸣叫。我感到很孤独,很寂寞,心里空空荡荡。有时候,我躺在草地上,望着天上懒洋洋地飘动着的白云,脑海里便浮现出许多莫名其妙的幻象。我们那地方流传着许多狐狸变成美女的故事,我幻想着能有一个狐狸变成美女与我来作伴放牛,但她始终没有出现。但有一次,一只火红色的狐狸从我面前的草丛中跳出来时,我被吓得一屁股蹲在地上。狐狸跑没了踪影,我还在那里颤抖。有时候我会蹲在牛的身旁,看着湛蓝的牛眼和牛眼中的我的倒影。有时候我会模仿着鸟儿的叫声试图与天上的鸟儿对话,有时候我会对一棵树诉说心声。但鸟儿不理我,树也不理我。许多年后,当我成为一个小说家,当年的许多幻想,都被我写进了小说。很多人夸我想象力丰富,有一些文学爱好者,希望我能告诉他们培养想象力的秘诀,对此,我只能报以苦笑。

our taoist master laozi said it best: "fortune depends on misfortune. misfortune is hidden in fortune." i left school as a child, often went hungry, was constantly lonely, and had no books to read. but for those reasons, like the writer of a previous generation, shen congwen, i had an early start on reading the great book of life. my experience of going to the marketplace to listen to a storyteller was but one page of that book. after leaving school, i was thrown uncomfortably into the world of adults, where i embarked on the long journey of learning through listening. two hundred years ago, one of the great storytellers of all time – pu songling – lived near where i grew up, and where many people, me included, carried on the tradition he had perfected. wherever i happened to be – working the fields with the collective, in production team cowsheds or stables, on my grandparents' heated kang, even on oxcarts bouncing and swaying down the road, my ears filled with tales of the supernatural, historical romances, and strange and captivating stories, all tied to the natural environment and clan histories, and all of which created a powerful reality in my mind.

就像中国的先贤老子所说的那样:“福兮祸之所伏,福祸福所倚”,我童年辍学,饱受饥饿、孤独、无书可读之苦,但我因此也像我们的前辈作家沈从文那样,及早地开始阅读社会人生这本大书。前面所提到的到集市上去听说数人说书,仅仅是这本大书中的一页。辍学之后,我混迹于成人之中,开始了“用耳朵阅读”的漫长生涯。二百多年前,我的故乡曾出了一个讲故事的伟大天才——蒲松龄,我们村里的许多人,包括我,都是他的传人。我在集体劳动的田间地头,在生产队的牛棚马厩,在我爷爷奶奶的热炕头上,甚至在摇摇晃晃地进行着的牛车社,聆听了许许多多神鬼故事,历史传奇,逸闻趣事,这些故事都与当地的自然环境,家庭历史紧密联系在一起,使我产生了强烈的现实感。

even in my wildest dreams, i could not have envisioned a day when all this would be the stuff of my own fiction, for i was just a boy who loved stories, who was infatuated with the tales people around me were telling. back then i was, without a doubt, a theist, believing that all living creatures were endowed with souls. i'd stop and pay my respects to a towering old tree; if i saw a bird, i was sure it could become human any time it wanted; and i suspected every stranger i met of being a transformed beast. at night, terrible fears accompanied me on my way home after my work points were tallied, so i'd sing at the top of my lungs as i ran to build up a bit of courage. my voice, which was changing at the time, produced scratchy, squeaky songs that grated on the ears of any villager who heard me.

我做梦也想不到有朝一日这些东西会成为我的写作素材,我当时只是一个迷恋故事的孩子,醉心地聆听着人们的讲述。那时我是一个绝对的有神论者,我相信万物都有灵性,我见到一棵大树会肃然起敬。我看到一只鸟会感到它随时会变化成人,我遇到一个陌生人,也会怀疑他是一个动物变化而成。每当夜晚我从生产队的记工房回家时,无边的恐惧便包围了我,为了壮胆,我一边奔跑一边大声歌唱。那时我正处在变声期,嗓音嘶哑,声调难听,我的歌唱,是对我的乡亲们的一种折磨。

i spent my first twenty-one years in that village, never traveling farther from home than to qingdao, by train, where i nearly got lost amid the giant stacks of wood in a lumber mill. when my mother asked me what i'd seen in qingdao, i reported sadly that all i'd seen were stacks of lumber. but that trip to qingdao planted in me a powerful desire to leave my village and see the world.

我在故乡生活了二十一年,期间离家最远的是乘火车去了一次青岛,还差点迷失在木材厂的巨大木材之间,以至于我母亲问我去青岛看到了什么风景时,我沮丧地告诉她:什么都没看到,只看到了一堆堆的木头。但也就是这次青岛之行,使我产生了想离开故乡到外边去看世界的强烈愿望。

in february 1976 i was recruited into the army and walked out of the northeast gaomi township village i both loved and hated, entering a critical phase of my life, carrying in my backpack the four-volume brief history of china my mother had bought by selling her wedding jewelry. thus began the most important period of my life. i must admit that were it not for the thirty-odd years of tremendous development and progress in chinese society, and the subsequent national reform and opening of her doors to the outside, i would not be a writer today.

1976 年2 月,我应征入伍,背着我母亲卖掉结婚时的首饰帮我购买的四本《中国通史简编》,走出了高密东北乡这个既让我爱又让我恨的地方,开始了我人生的重要时期。我必须承认,如果没有30 多年来中国社会的巨大发展与进步,如果没有改革开放,也不会有我这样一个作家。

in the midst of mind-numbing military life, i welcomed the ideological emancipation and literary fervor of the nineteen-eighties, and evolved from a boy who listened to stories and passed them on by word of mouth into someone who experimented with writing them down. it was a rocky road at first, a time when i had not yet discovered how rich a source of literary material my two decades of village life could be. i thought that literature was all about good people doing good things, stories of heroic deeds and model citizens, so that the few pieces of mine that were published had little literary value.

在军营的枯燥生活中,我迎来了八十年代的思想解放和文学热潮,我从一个用耳朵聆听故事,用嘴巴讲述故事的孩子,开始尝试用笔来讲述故事。起初的道路并不平坦,我那时并没有意识到我二十多年的农村生活经验是文学的富矿,那时我以为文学就是写好人好事,就是写英雄模范,所以,尽管也发表了几篇作品,但文学价值很低。

in the fall of 1984 i was accepted into the literature department of the pla art academy, where, under the guidance of my revered mentor, the renowned writer xu huaizhong, i wrote a series of stories and novellas, including: "autumn floods," "dry river," "the transparent carrot," and "red sorghum." northeast gaomi township made its first appearance in "autumn floods," and from that moment on, like a wandering peasant who finds his own piece of land, this literary vagabond found a place he could call his own. i must say that in the course of creating my literary domain, northeast gaomi township, i was greatly inspired by the american novelist william faulkner and the columbian gabriel garcía márquez. i had not read either of them extensively, but was encouraged by the bold, unrestrained way they created new territory in writing, and learned from them that a writer must have a place that belongs to him alone. humility and compromise are ideal in one's daily life, but in literary creation, supreme self-confidence and the need to follow one's own instincts are essential. for two years i followed in the footsteps of these two masters before realizing that i had to escape their influence; this is how i characterized that decision in an essay: they were a pair of blazing furnaces, i was a block of ice. if i got too close to them, i would dissolve into a cloud of steam. in my understanding, one writer influences another when they enjoy a profound spiritual kinship, what is often referred to as "hearts beating in unison." that explains why, though i had read little of their work, a few pages were sufficient for me to comprehend what they were doing and how they were doing it, which led to my understanding of what i should do and how i should do it.

1984年秋,我考入解放军艺术学院文学系。在我的恩师著名作家徐怀中的启发指导下,我写出了《秋水》、《枯河》、《透明的红萝卜》、《红高粱》等一批中短篇小说。在《秋水》这篇小说里,第一次出现了“高密东北乡”这个字眼,从此,就如同一个四处游荡的农民有了一片土地,我这样一个文学的流浪汉,终于有了一个可以安身立命的场所。我必须承认,在创建我的文学领地“高密东北乡”的过程中,美国的威*·福克纳和哥伦比亚的加西亚·马尔克斯给了我重要启发。我对他们的阅读并不认真,但他们开天辟地的豪迈精神激励了我,使我明白了一个作家必须要有一块属于自己的地方。一个人在日常生活中应该谦卑退让,但在文学创作中,必须颐指气使,独断专行。我追随在这两位大师身后两年,即意识到,必须尽快地逃离他们,我在文章中写道:他们是两座灼热的火炉,而我是冰块,如果离他们太近,会被他们蒸发掉。根据我的体会,一个作家之所以会受到某一位作家的影响,其根本是因为影响者和被影响者灵魂深处的相似之处。正所谓“心有灵犀一点通”。所以,尽管我没有很好地去读他们的书,但只读过几页,我就明白了他们干了什么,也明白了他们是怎样干的,随即我也就明白了我该干什么和我该怎样干。

what i should do was simplicity itself: write my own stories in my own way. my way was that of the marketplace storyteller, with which i was so familiar, the way my grandfather and my grandmother and other village old-timers told stories. in all candor, i never gave a thought to audience when i was telling my stories; perhaps my audience was made up of people like my mother, and perhaps it was only me. the early stories were narrations of my personal experience: the boy who received a whipping in "dry river," for instance, or the boy who never spoke in "the transparent carrot." i had actually done something bad enough to receive a whipping from my father, and i had actually worked the bellows for a blacksmith on a bridge site. naturally, personal experience cannot be turned into fiction exactly as it happened, no matter how unique that might be. fiction has to be fictional, has to be imaginative. to many of my friends, "the transparent carrot" is my very best story; i have no opinion one way or the other. what i can say is, "the transparent carrot" is more symbolic and more profoundly meaningful than any other story i've written. that dark-skinned boy with the superhuman ability to suffer and a superhuman degree of sensitivity represents the soul of my entire fictional output. not one of all the fictional characters i've created since then is as close to my soul as he is. or put a different way, among all the characters a writer creates, there is always one that stands above all the others. for me, that laconic boy is the one. though he says nothing, he leads the way for all the others, in all their variety, performing freely on the northeast gaomi township stage.

我该干的事情其实很简单,那就是用自己的方式,讲自己的故事。我的方式,就是我所熟知的集市说书人的方式,就是我的爷爷奶奶、村里的老人们讲故事的方式。坦率地说,讲述的时候,我没有想到谁会是我的听众,也许我的听众就是那些如我母亲一样的人,也许我的听众就是我自己,我自己的故事,起初就是我的亲身经历,譬如《枯河》中那个遭受痛打的孩子,譬如《透明的红萝卜》中那个自始至终一言不发的孩子。我的确曾因为干过一件错事而受到过父亲的痛打,我也的确曾在桥梁工地上为铁匠师傅拉过风箱。当然,个人的经历无论多么奇特也不可能原封不动地写进小说,小说必须虚构,必须想象。很多朋友说《透明的红萝卜》是我最好的小说,对此我不反驳,也不认同,但我认为《透明的红萝卜》是我的作品中最有象征性、最意味深长的一部。那个浑身漆黑、具有超人的忍受痛苦的能力和超人的感受能力的孩子,是我全部小说的灵魂,尽管在后来的小说里,我写了很多的人物,但没有一个人物,比他更贴近我的灵魂。或者可以说,一个作家所塑造的若干人物中,总有一个领头的,这个沉默的孩子就是一个领头的,他一言不发,但却有力地领导着形形色色的人物,在高密东北乡这个舞台上,尽情地表演。

a person can experience only so much, and once you have exhausted your own stories, you must tell the stories of others. and so, out of the depths of my memories, like conscripted soldiers, rose stories of family members, of fellow villagers, and of long-dead ancestors i learned of from the mouths of old-timers. they waited expectantly for me to tell their stories. my grandfather and grandmother, my father and mother, my brothers and sisters, my aunts and uncles, my wife and my daughter have all appeared in my stories. even unrelated residents of northeast gaomi township have made cameo appearances. of course they have undergone literary modification to transform them into larger-than-life fictional characters.an aunt of mine is the central character of my latest novel, frogs. the announcement of the nobel prize sent journalists swarming to her home with interview requests. at first, she was patiently accommodating, but she soon had to escape their attentions by fleeing to her son's home in the provincial capital. i don't deny that she was my model in writing frogs, but the differences between her and the fictional aunt are extensive. the fictional aunt is arrogant and domineering, in places virtually thuggish, while my real aunt is kind and gentle, the classic caring wife and loving mother. my real aunt's golden years have been happy and fulfilling; her fictional counterpart suffers insomnia in her late years as a result of spiritual torment, and walks the nights like a specter, wearing a dark robe. i am grateful to my real aunt for not being angry with me for how i changed her in the novel. i also greatly respect her wisdom in comprehending the complex relationship between fictional characters and real people.

自己的故事总是有限的,讲完了自己的故事,就必须讲他人的故事。于是,我的亲人们的故事,我的村人们的故事,以及我从老人们口中听到过的祖先们的故事,就像听到集合令的士兵一样,从我的记忆深处涌出来。他们用期盼的目光看着我,等待着我去写他们。我的爷爷、奶奶、父亲、母亲、哥哥、姐姐、姑姑、叔叔、妻子、女儿,都在我的作品里出现过,还有很多的我们高密东北乡的乡亲,也都在我的小说里露过面。当然,我对他们,都进行了文学化的处理,使他们超越了他们自身,成为文学中的人物。我最新的小说《蛙》中,就出现了我姑姑的形象。因为我获得诺贝尔奖,许多记者到她家采访,起初她还很耐心地回答提问,但很快便不胜其烦,跑到县城里她儿子家躲起来了。姑姑确实是我写《蛙》时的模特,但小说中的姑姑,与现实生活中的姑姑有着天壤之别。小说中的姑姑专横跋扈,有时简直像个女匪,现实中的姑姑和善开朗,是一个标准的贤妻良母。现实中的姑姑晚年生活幸福美满,小说中的姑姑到了晚年却因为心灵的巨大痛苦患上了失眠症,身披黑袍,像个幽灵一样在暗夜中游荡。我感谢姑姑的宽容,她没有因为我在小说中把她写成那样而生气;我也十分敬佩我姑姑的明智,她正确地理解了小说中人物与现实中人物的复杂关系。

after my mother died, in the midst of almost crippling grief, i decided to write a novel for her. big breasts and wide hips is that novel. once my plan took shape, i was burning with such emotion that i completed a draft of half a million words in only eighty-three days. in big breasts and wide hips i shamelessly used material associated with my mother's actual experience, but the fictional mother's emotional state is either a total fabrication or a composite of many of northeast gaomi township's mothers. though i wrote "to the spirit of my mother" on the dedication page, the novel was really written for all mothers everywhere, evidence, perhaps, of my overweening ambition, in much the same way as i hope to make tiny northeast gaomi township a microcosm of china, even of the whole world.

母亲去世后,我悲痛万分,决定写一部书献给她。这就是那本《丰乳肥臀》。因为胸有成竹,因为情感充盈,仅用了83 天,我便写出了这部长达50 万字的小说的初稿。在《丰乳肥臀》这本书里,我肆无忌惮地使用了与我母亲的亲身经历有关的素材,但书中的母亲情感方面的经历,则是虚构或取材于高密东北乡诸多母亲的经历。在这本书的卷前语上,我写下了“献给母亲在天之灵”的话,但这本书,实际上是献给天下母亲的,这是我狂妄的野心,就像我希望把小小的“高密东北乡”写成中国乃至世界的缩影一样。

the process of creation is unique to every writer. each of my novels differs from the others in terms of plot and guiding inspiration. some, such as "the transparent carrot," were born in dreams, while others, like the garlic ballads have their origin in actual events. whether the source of a work is a dream or real life, only if it is integrated with individual experience can it be imbued with individuality, be populated with typical characters molded by lively detail, employ richly evocative language, and boast a well crafted structure. here i must point out that in the garlic ballads i introduced a real-life storyteller and singer in one of the novel's most important roles. i wish i hadn't used his real name, though his words and actions were made up. this is a recurring phenomenon with me. i'll start out using characters' real names in order to achieve a sense of intimacy, and after the work is finished, it will seem too late to change those names. this has led to people who see their names in my novels going to my father to vent their displeasure. he always apologizes in my place, but then urges them not to take such things so seriously. he'll say: "the first sentence in red sorghum, 'my father, a bandit's offspring,' didn't upset me, so why should you be unhappy?" my greatest challenges come with writing novels that deal with social realities, such as the garlic ballads, not because i'm afraid of being openly critical of the darker aspects of society, but because heated emotions and anger allow politics to suppress literature and transform a novel into reportage of a social event. as a member of society, a novelist is entitled to his own stance and viewpoint; but when he is writing he must take a humanistic stance, and write accordingly. only then can literature not just originate in events, but transcend them, not just show concern for politics but be greater than politics.

作家的创作过程各有特色,我每本书的构思与灵感触发也都不尽相同。有的小说起源于梦境,譬如《透明的红萝卜》,有的小说则发端于现实生活中发生的事件——譬如《天堂蒜薹之歌》。但无论是起源于梦境还是发端于现实,最后都必须和个人的经验相结合,才有可能变成一部具有鲜明个性的,用无数生动细节塑造出了典型人物的、语言丰富多彩、结构匠心独运的文学作品。有必要特别提及的是,在《天堂蒜薹之歌》中,我让一个真正的说书人登场,并在书中扮演了十分重要的角色。我十分抱歉地使用了这个说书人真实姓名,当然,他在书中的所有行为都是虚构。在我的写作中,出现过多次这样的现象,写作之初,我使用他们的真实姓名,希望能借此获得一种亲近感,但作品完成之后,我想为他们改换姓名时却感到已经不可能了,因此也发生过与我小说中人物同名者找到我父亲发泄不满的事情,我父亲替我向他们道歉,但同时又开导他们不要当真。我父亲说:“他在《红高粱》中,第一句就说‘我父亲这个土匪种’,我都不在意你们还在意什么?”我在写作《天堂蒜薹之歌》这类逼近社会现实的小说时,面对着的最大问题,其实不是我敢不敢对社会上的黑暗现象进行批评,而是这燃烧的激情和愤怒会让政治压倒文学,使这部小说变成一个社会事件的纪实报告。小说家是社会中人,他自然有自己的立场和观点,但小说家在写作时,必须站在人的立场上,把所有的人都当做人来写。只有这样,文学才能发端事件但超越事件,关心政治但大于政治。

possibly because i've lived so much of my life in difficult circumstances, i think i have a more profound understanding of life. i know what real courage is, and i understand true compassion. i know that nebulous terrain exists in the hearts and minds of every person, terrain that cannot be adequately characterized in simple terms of right and wrong or good and bad, and this vast territory is where a writer gives free rein to his talent. so long as the work correctly and vividly describes this nebulous, massively contradictory terrain, it will inevitably transcend politics and be endowed with literary excellence. prattling on and on about my own work must be annoying, but my life and works are inextricably linked, so if i don't talk about my work, i don't know what else to say. i hope you are in a forgiving mood. i was a modern-day storyteller who hid in the background of his early work; but with the novel sandalwood death i jumped out of the shadows. my early work can be characterized as a series of soliloquies, with no reader in mind; starting with this novel, however, i visualized myself standing in a public square spiritedly telling my story to a crowd of listeners. this tradition is a worldwide phenomenon in fiction, but is especially so in china. at one time, i was a diligent student of western modernist fiction, and i experimented with all sorts of narrative styles. but in the end i came back to my traditions. to be sure, this return was not without its modifications. sandalwood death and the novels that followed are inheritors of the chinese classical novel tradition but enhanced by western literary techniques. what is known as innovative fiction is, for the most part, a result of this mixture, which is not limited to domestic traditions with foreign techniques, but can include mixing fiction with art from other realms. sandalwood death, for instance, mixes fiction with local opera, while some of my early work was partly nurtured by fine art, music, even acrobatics.

可能是因为我经历过长期的艰难生活,使我对人性有较为深刻的了解。我知道真正的勇敢是什么,也明白真正的悲悯是什么。我知道,每个人心中都有一片难用是非善恶准确定性的朦胧地带,而这片地带,正是文学家施展才华的广阔天地。只要是准确地、生动地描写了这个充满矛盾的朦胧地带的作品,也就必然地超越了政治并具备了优秀文学的品质。喋喋不休地讲述自己的作品是令人厌烦的,但我的人生是与我的作品紧密相连的,不讲作品,我感到无从下嘴,所以还得请各位原谅。在我的早期作品中,我作为一个现代的说书人,是隐藏在文本背后的,但从《檀香刑》这部小说开始,我终于从后台跳到了前台。如果说我早期的作品是自言自语,目无读者,从这本书开始,我感觉到自己是站在一个广场上,面对着许多听众,绘声绘色地讲述。这是世界小说的传统,更是中国小说的传统。我也曾积极地向西方的现代派小说学习,也曾经玩弄过形形色色的叙事花样,但我最终回归了传统。当然,这种回归,不是一成不变的回归,《檀香刑》和之后的小说,是继承了中国古典小说传统又借鉴了西方小说技术的混合文本。小说领域的所谓创新,基本上都是这种混合的产物。不仅仅是本国文学传统与外国小说技巧的混合,也是小说与其他的艺术门类的混合,就像《檀香刑》是与民间戏曲的混合,就像我早期的一些小说从美术、音乐、甚至杂技中汲取了营养一样。

finally, i ask your indulgence to talk about my novel life and death are wearing me out. the chinese title comes from buddhist scripture, and i've been told that my translators have had fits trying to render it into their languages. i am not especially well versed in buddhist scripture and have but a superficial understanding of the religion. i chose this title because i believe that the basic tenets of the buddhist faith represent universal knowledge, and that mankind's many disputes are utterly without meaning in the buddhist realm. in that lofty view of the universe, the world of man is to be pitied. my novel is not a religious tract; in it i wrote of man's fate and human emotions, of man's limitations and human generosity, and of people's search for happiness and the lengths to which they will go, the sacrifices they will make, to uphold their beliefs. lan lian, a character who takes a stand against contemporary trends, is, in my view, a true hero. a peasant in a neighboring village was the model for this character. as a youngster i often saw him pass by our door pushing a creaky, wooden-wheeled cart, with a lame donkey up front, led by his bound-foot wife. given the collective nature of society back then, this strange labor group presented a bizarre sight that kept them out of step with the times. in the eyes of us children, they were clowns marching against historical trends, provoking in us such indignation that we threw stones at them as they passed us on the street. years later, after i had begun writing, that peasant and the tableau he presented floated into my mind, and i knew that one day i would write a novel about him, that sooner or later i would tell his story to the world. but it wasn't until the year 2019, when i viewed the buddhist mural "the six stages of samsara" on a temple wall that i knew exactly how to go about telling his story.

最后,请允许我再讲一下我的《生死疲劳》。这个书名来自佛教经典,据我所知,为翻译这个书名,各国的翻译家都很头痛。我对佛教经典并没有深入研究,对佛教的理解自然十分肤浅,之所以以此为题,是因为我觉得佛教的许多基本思想,是真正的宇宙意识,人世中许多纷争,在佛家的眼里,是毫无意义的。这样一种至高眼界下的人世,显得十分可悲。当然,我没有把这本书写成布道词,我写的还是人的命运与人的情感,人的局限与人的宽容,以及人为追求幸福、坚持自己的信念所做出的努力与牺牲。小说中那位以一己之身与时代潮流对抗的蓝脸,在我心目中是一位真正的英雄。这个人物的原型,是我们邻村的一位农民,我童年时,经常看到他推着一辆吱吱作响的木轮车,从我家门前的道路上通过。给他拉车的,是一头瘸腿的毛驴,为他牵驴的,是他小脚的妻子。这个奇怪的劳动组合,在当时的集体化社会里,显得那么古怪和不合时宜,在我们这些孩子的眼里,也把他们看成是逆历史潮流而动的小丑,以至于当他们从街上经过时,我们会充满义愤地朝他们投掷石块。事过多年,当我拿起笔来写作时,这个人物,这个画面,便浮现在我的脑海中。我知道,我总有一天会为他写一本书,我迟早要把他的故事讲给天下人听,但一直到了2019年,当我在一座庙宇里看到“六道轮回”的壁画时,才明白了讲述这个故事的正确方法。

the announcement of my nobel prize has led to controversy. at first i thought i was the target of the disputes, but over time i've come to realize that the real target was a person who had nothing to do with me. like someone watching a play in a theater, i observed the performances around me. i saw the winner of the prize both garlanded with flowers and besieged by stone-throwers and mudslingers. i was afraid he would succumb to the assault, but he emerged from the garlands of flowers and the stones, a smile on his face; he wiped away mud and grime, stood calmly off to the side, and said to the crowd: for a writer, the best way to speak is by writing. you will find everything i need to say in my works. speech is carried off by the wind; the written word can never be obliterated. i would like you to find the patience to read my books. i cannot force you to do that, and even if you do, i do not expect your opinion of me to change. no writer has yet appeared, anywhere in the world, who is liked by all his readers; that is especially true during times like these.

我获得诺贝尔文学奖后,引发了一些争议。起初,我还以为大家争议的对象是我,渐渐的,我感到这个被争议的对象,是一个与我毫不相关的人。我如同一个看戏人,看着众人的表演。我看到那个得奖人身上落满了花朵,也被掷上了石块、泼上了污水。我生怕他被打垮,但他微笑着从花朵和石块中钻出来,擦干净身上的脏水,坦然地站在一边,对着众人说:对一个作家来说,最好的说话方式是写作。我该说的话都写进了我的作品里。用嘴说出的话随风而散,用笔写出的话永不磨灭。我希望你们能耐心地读一下我的书,当然,我没有资格强迫你们读我的书。即便你们读了我的书,我也不期望你们能改变对我的看法,世界上还没有一个作家,能让所有的读者都喜欢他。在当今这样的时代里,更是如此。

even though i would prefer to say nothing, since it is something i must do on this occasion, let me just say this: i am a storyteller, so i am going to tell you some stories. when i was a third-grade student in the 1960s, my school organized a field trip to an exhibit of suffering, where, under the direction of our teacher, we cried bitter tears. i let my tears stay on my cheeks for the benefit of our teacher, and watched as some of my classmates spat in their hands and rubbed it on their faces as pretend tears. i saw one student among all those wailing children – some real, some phony – whose face was dry and who remained silent without covering his face with his hands. he just looked at us, eyes wide open in an expression of surprise or confusion. after the visit i reported him to the teacher, and he was given a disciplinary warning. years later, when i expressed my remorse over informing on the boy, the teacher said that at least ten students had done what i did. the boy himself had died a decade or more earlier, and my conscience was deeply troubled when i thought of him. but i learned something important from this incident, and that is: when everyone around you is crying, you deserve to be allowed not to cry, and when the tears are all for show, your right not to cry is greater still.

尽管我什么都不想说,但在今天这样的场合我必须说话,那我就简单地再说几句。我是一个讲故事的人,我还是要给你们讲故事。上世纪六十年代,我上小学三年级的时候,学校里组织我们去参观一个苦难展览,我们在老师的引领下放声大哭。为了能让老师看到我的表现,我舍不得擦去脸上的泪水。我看到有几位同学悄悄地将唾沫抹到脸上冒充泪水。我还看到在一片真哭假哭的同学之间,有一位同学,脸上没有一滴泪,嘴巴里没有一点声音,也没有用手掩面。他睁着大眼看着我们,眼睛里流露出惊讶或者是困惑的神情。事后,我向老师报告了这位同学的行为。为此,学校给了这位同学一个*告处分。多年之后,当我因自己的告密向老师忏悔时,老师说,那天来找他说这件事的,有十几个同学。这位同学十几年前就已去世,每当想起他,我就深感歉疚。这件事让我悟到一个道理,那就是:当众人都哭时,应该允许有的人不哭。当哭成为一种表演时,更应该允许有的人不哭。

here is another story: more than thirty years ago, when i was in the army, i was in my office reading one evening when an elderly officer opened the door and came in. he glanced down at the seat in front of me and muttered, "hm, where is everyone?" i stood up and said in a loud voice, "are you saying i'm no one?" the old fellow's ears turned red from embarrassment, and he walked out. for a long time after that i was proud about what i consider a gutsy performance. years later, that pride turned to intense qualms of conscience. bear with me, please, for one last story, one my grandfather told me many years ago: a group of eight out-of-town bricklayers took refuge from a storm in a rundown temple. thunder rumbled outside, sending fireballs their way. they even heard what sounded like dragon shrieks. the men were terrified, their faces ashen. "among the eight of us," one of them said, "is someone who must have offended the heavens with a terrible deed. the guilty person ought to volunteer to step outside to accept his punishment and spare the innocent from suffering. naturally, there were no volunteers. so one of the others came up with a proposal: since no one is willing to go outside, let's all fling our straw hats toward the door. whoever's hat flies out through the temple door is the guilty party, and we'll ask him to go out and accept his punishment." so they flung their hats toward the door. seven hats were blown back inside; one went out the door. they pressured the eighth man to go out and accept his punishment, and when he balked, they picked him up and flung him out the door. i'll bet you all know how the story ends: they had no sooner flung him out the door than the temple collapsed around them.

我再讲一个故事:三十多年前,我还在部队工作。有一天晚上,我在办公室看书,有一位老长官推门进来,看了一眼我对面的位置,自言自语道:“噢,没有人?”我随即站起来,高声说:“难道我不是人吗?”那位老长官被我顶得面红耳赤,尴尬而退。为此事,我洋洋得意了许久,以为自己是个英勇的斗士,但事过多年后,我却为此深感内疚。请允许我讲最后一个故事,这是许多年前我爷爷讲给我听过的:有八个外出打工的泥瓦匠,为避一场暴风雨,躲进了一座破庙。外边的雷声一阵紧似一阵,一个个的火球,在庙门外滚来滚去,空中似乎还有吱吱的龙叫声。众人都胆战心惊,面如土色。有一个人说:“我们八个人中,必定一个人干过伤天害理的坏事,谁干过坏事,就自己走出庙接受惩罚吧,免得让好人受到牵连。”自然没有人愿意出去。又有人提议道:“既然大家都不想出去,那我们就将自己的草帽往外抛吧,谁的草帽被刮出庙门,就说明谁干了坏事,那就请他出去接受惩罚。”于是大家就将自己的草帽往庙门外抛,七个人的草帽被刮回了庙内,只有一个人的草帽被卷了出去。大家就催这个人出去受罚,他自然不愿出去,众人便将他抬起来扔出了庙门。故事的结局我估计大家都猜到了——那个人刚被扔出庙门,那座破庙轰然坍塌。

i am a storyteller. telling stories earned me the nobel prize for literature. many interesting things have happened to me in the wake of winning the prize, and they have convinced me that truth and justice are alive and well. so i will continue telling my stories in the days to come.thank you all.

我是一个讲故事的人。因为讲故事我获得了诺贝尔文学奖。我获奖后发生了很多精彩的故事,这些故事,让我坚信真理和正义是存在的。今后的岁月里,我将继续讲我的故事。谢谢大家!

以上内容由站整理提供。

第2篇 莫言在广州歌剧院的励志演讲稿

各位朋友下午好!非常荣幸参加这次活动!过去演讲很少写稿,这次非常认真地准备了半个上午!(观众笑,上午还用“半个”来修饰,果然是文学大师,语言就是丰富)

本来主办方昨天晚上通知我让我上台之前给我化妆,我拒绝了。因为我想,化妆是可以把白的变成黑的,也可以把黑的变成白的。但是,不可能把丑的变成美的,美不需要化妆,你依然很美,丑的无论如何涂脂抹粉都不会变美。(此语一出,活动主持人担心,莫大师这话会把化妆行业毁了,详见后文访谈环节。)

所以我想还是以本来面貌见人为好,尤其在台上演讲的时候更要给大家以真实面貌,一个人只有保持自己的真实面貌,才可能“说真话,办真事,做好人!”(这话说得超赞!)

其实,要保持一个人的本来面貌还是挺不容易。因为我们每一个人都生活在社会当中,除了要跟自己家人打交道之外,还要跟社会上各个阶层的人打交道。

学生在学校跟老师和同学打交道,员工在家里面跟自己的家人打交道,也要跟老板和自己的同行打交道,这样社会的结构就迫使每一个人都有几副面孔。

无论是多么坦诚朴实的人,在舞台上和卧室里不一样,在公共面前和在家人面前,也不一样。我想我们能够做到的也只能尽量以本来面貌见人。

今天演讲题目叫《喧嚣与真实》,这是主办方给我的题目。因为这个题目挺难谈的,涉及到社会生活看起来是两个方面,实际上是很多方面。

社会生活总体上看是喧嚣的,喧嚣是热闹的。热闹是热情、是闹、是热火朝天,也是敲锣打鼓,是载歌载舞。是一呼百应,是正声喧哗,是望风捕影,是添油加醋,是浓妆艳抹,是游行集会。(大师教你学排比句!)

是大吃大喝,是猜拳行令,是制造谣言,是吸引眼球,是人人微博,是个个微信。是真假难辨,是莫衷一是,是鸡一嘴鸭一嘴,是结帮拉伙。也是明星吸毒,也是拍死了苍蝇,也是捉出了老虎。是歌星婚变了,是二奶告状了,是证明了宇宙起源于大爆炸,也证明了宇宙不是起源于大爆炸,确实是众生喧哗!(发现大师好潮,神马都知道!)

我想社会生活本来就是喧嚣的,或者说喧嚣是社会生活的一个方面,或者说是本来面貌,没有任何力量能让一个社会不喧嚣。

当然了,我们冷静想一想,从多个角度来考量一下,喧嚣也不完全是负面。喧嚣也是社会进步的一种表现,因为原始社会里是不喧嚣的。

我们去参观半坡遗址的时候,我们想象当时的人们生活场面肯定是不喧嚣。我们回想中国漫长的封建社会,那个时候也是不喧嚣。(闭上双眼,跟着大师一起穿越~)

但是我们想象我们最近几十年来,我们1958年大炼钢铁很喧嚣,我们60年代文化大革命也是很喧嚣,后来改革开放前几年比较安静,但是最近十几年来越来越喧嚣。

这种喧嚣有的是有声的,是在广场上吵架,或者是拳脚相加;有时候是无声的,是在网络上互相对骂。我想面对这样的社会现象,我们必须客观冷静的对待,既不能说它不好,也不能说它很好,所以这样一种现象。

就像我刚才说的,实际上也有正反两个方面,我们作为一个生活在社会生活中的个体,应该习惯喧嚣。我们要具备习惯喧嚣跟发现正能量的能力,我们也要具备从喧嚣中发现邪恶的清醒,要清醒地认识到,喧嚣就是社会生活的一个方面,而使我们社会真正能够保持稳定进步的是真实。

因为工人不能只喧嚣不做工,农民不能只喧嚣不种地,教师不能只喧嚣不讲课,学生不能只喧嚣不上课。也就是说,我们这个社会生活中的大多数人还是要脚踏实地的实事求是的老老实实做人,踏踏实实的做事,否则只喧嚣没饭吃。(大师的排比句真是信手拈来呀)

关于真实,我想也是社会更加重要的基础。真实不仅仅是一个社会的本来面貌,也是事实的本来面貌,有时候喧嚣掩盖真实,或者说是会掩盖真相,但是大多数的情况下,喧嚣不可能永远掩盖真相,或者说不能永远掩盖真实,这个我可以讲四个故事,来证明我这个论点。(小故事彰显大道理,接地气,赞!)

第一个故事是:几十年前,大概在70年代的时候。我的一个闯关东的邻居回来了,在村子里面扬言他发了大财,说他去深山老林里面挖到了一颗人参,卖了几十万元的人民币,从村子东头搞到西头,又从西头搞到东头,让我们的村民们很多家里面争先恐后的请他吃饭,因为大家对有钱人还是很尊敬,大家还是希望一遍遍听他讲述如何在深山老林里挖到了这一颗人参的经历。

我们家当然也不能免俗,我们把他请来,坐在我家炕头上吃饭,我记得很清楚,他穿了一件在我们当时的农民眼里面看起来是很漂亮的黑色的呢子大衣。他即便坐在热炕头上也不脱下这件大衣,我记得我们家擀面条给他吃,我奶奶就发现他脖子上有一只虱子,于是他的喧嚣就被虱子给击破了。

因为一个真正有钱的人是不会生虱子的,过去人讲说“穷长虱子富生疥”。我们知道他并没有发财,尽管他永远不脱下来那件呢子大衣,但是他的内衣肯定很破烂。又过了不久,这个人的表弟也来我们村子,他穿了一件同样的呢子大衣。我奶奶问他,你这件大衣跟你表哥的很像。他说我表哥就是借我的。事实,又一次击破了前面这个人喧嚣的谎言!(大师的奶奶可谓观察甚微呀)

另外一个故事是:我在北京的检察院工作期间,曾经了解和接触了很多有关贪官的案件。当然我不是检察官,因为我们是新闻单位,要报道,我作为记者,了解了很多这方面的案例。其中在河北某地有个贪官,他平常穿得非常地朴素,上下班骑自行车,给人一种非常*洁的外观形象。每次开会他都要大张旗鼓,义正词严的抨击贪腐。过了不久,检察院从他床下面搜出了几百万人民币。所以真实就把贪官关于*洁,关于反腐的喧嚣给击破了,事实胜于雄辩。

第三个就是我的亲生经历:2019年我在我的故乡写作,有一次到集上去买桃子,一个卖桃子的人看起来很剽悍,他也认识我,或者他认出了我。

他一见面就说,你怎么还要来买桃呢?他点了我们xx**的名字说:“某某某给你送一车不就行了吗?”然后我说:“我又不是当官的,他干吗要给我送?”他马上说:“你是当兵的。”实际上我也不是当兵的,我已经转业了。

然后他说:“你们这些当兵的,我们白养了你们,连钓x岛都看不住,让小日本在那边占领。”我说:“小日本也没有占领。”他说:“反正你们当兵的白养了。”我说:“那怎么办?”他说:“很好办嘛,放一个原子弹就把问题全解决了。”

尽管我心里很不愉快,但我后来还是买了他五斤桃子。我说:“桃子甜吗?”他说:“太甜了,新品种!”我说:“你给我够秤。”他说:“放心!”(赶脚大师要被缺斤少两的节奏,嘻嘻)

结果回家一称桃子只有三斤多一点,他亏了我将近两斤秤,然后一吃又酸又涩,所以真实又一次把卖桃人的喧嚣给击破了。(果然大师被小贩坑了)

第四个故事也是我的亲身经历:就是不久前的中考,我有一个亲戚经常见他。每次见他,他义愤填膺的痛骂当官的,咬牙切齿,怒发冲冠。但是今年他的儿子参加中考,离我们县最好中学的录取分数线差了五分。

他就找到我说:“就差了五分,你找一找人,让他帮助。”我说:“现在谁还敢?现在反腐的呼声如此高,现在为难了。”他说:“我不怕花钱,我有钱。”我说:“你让我去送钱,这不是让我去行x吗?这不是贪腐吗?你不是痛恨贪官污吏吗?现在你这样做不是让我帮着你制造新的贪官污吏吗?”他说:“这是两码事,这是我的孩子要上学了。”这个真实也把亲戚反对贪官污吏的喧嚣给击破了。

我对这四个故事的主人公没有任何讥讽嘲弄的意思,我也理解他们,同情他们。假如我是我的那位亲戚,我的孩子今年中考差了几分,上不了重点中学,也许我也要想办法去找人。(真实的表达,真实的大师)

我也会跟我的亲戚说:“不怕花钱!”为什么会出现这种现象?为什么大家在不涉及到自己切身利益和家庭问题的时候,我们都是一个非常正派的,非常刚强,非常*洁,非常正直的人。为什么一旦我们碰到了这样的事情,尤其是涉及到了孩子的事情,我们的腰为什么立刻又软了,我们的原则为什么立刻不存在了?

所以我想这有人性的弱点,也有社会体制的缺陷,所以我讲这四个故事没有讥讽意义,而是要通过这四个故事来反省,让每个人在看待社会问题的时候,在面对社会喧嚣的时候,能够冷静的来想一想喧嚣背后的另一面。

我是一个写小说的,说得好听点是一个小说家。在小说家的眼里,喧嚣与真实都是文学的内容,我们可以写喧嚣。但是我认为,应该把更多的笔墨用到描写真实上。当然了,小说家笔下的真实,跟我们生活中的真实是有区别的,是不一样的,它也可能是夸张的,也可能是变形的,也可能是魔幻的,但是我想夸张变形和魔幻实际上是为了更加突出真实的存在和真实的力度。

总而言之,面对当今既喧嚣又真实,万象风云的社会,一个作家应该坚持这样几个原则,或者说几个方法来面对社会现实。

首先、我们要冷静的观察,要透过现象看本质。我们过去说,我们要研究一个人,就是要听其言、察其行,我们要察言观色,观察会让你获得外部大量信息。然后我们要运用我们的逻辑来进行分析,我们要考量现实,我们也要回顾历史,我们还要展望未来。通过分析得到判断,最后在这样的观察分析判断的基础上,展开我们的描写,然后给读者一个丰富的文学世界,谢谢大家!

第3篇 莫言在德国的演讲稿开场白

下面小编给大家分享一下莫言在德国演讲时经典开场白,大家敬请阅读。

女士们先生们,下午好:

开了俩天会,终于谈到了文学。(笑声)

上个月,我因为胃出血住进了医院,出院以后身体虚弱,本来想跟有关方面打个招呼,在家养病,不来参加这个会议。我妻子对我说,既然已经答应了别人就应该信守承诺,尽管你一爬楼就冒虚汗,但是,我建议你还是要去。你不去,对会议主办方很不尊重。

听了妻子的话,我来了。我临出门的时候,妻子对我说,听说德国的高压锅特别好,你买一个带回来。(笑声)我这才明白,她让我来真正的目的是让我来买锅。(笑声)

我前天上午已经完成了任务,买了高压锅在床头放着。(笑声)这次来呢,我还知道德国某媒体给我背上了一个黑锅———非常抱歉,可能给同声翻译的女士增加了困难,中国人将强加于自己的不实之词称为“背黑锅”——中国有一些小报经常这样干,经常造我的谣言。我没想到,向德国这样号称严谨的国家的媒体也会这么干。(笑声,掌声)由此我也明白,全世界的新闻媒体都差不多。(笑声,掌声)

这次我来法兰克福,收获很大,买回一个银光闪闪的高压锅,同时卸下一个黑锅。我是山东人,山东人大男子主义,如果一个男人听老婆的话会被人瞧不起的,我这次来才体会到老婆的话一定要听。(笑声,掌声)

我如果不来,第一买不回高压锅,第二我的黑锅就要被到底了。我老婆的话体现了俩个很宝贵的原则,一个是要履行承诺,答应别人的一定要做到;第二个就是别人好的东西我们要拿过来。德国的锅好,我们就买德国的锅。(掌声)

我老婆这两点宝贵的品质,值得很多人学习。前天晚上,我给她发了个信息,把我这次的行动作了汇报。她给我回短信:再买一个高压锅。(笑声)俩个高压锅太沉了,我就给她撒了一个谎:德国海关规定每个人只能买一个高压锅。

假如我的德国朋友不反对不怕中国人把德国的高压锅卖的涨价的话,我回去会利用我在中国的影响,写文章宣传德国锅的好处,让全中国的家庭主妇都让她们的丈夫来买锅。(笑声,掌声)

光说锅也不行,我们还得说说文学。。。。。。

第4篇 莫言在瑞典诺贝尔颁奖典礼上的英语演讲稿

莫言在诺贝尔晚宴上的答谢词(准备稿)

xx年12月10日(当地时间)

mo yan's prepared banquet speech at the nobel banquet

10 december xx

尊敬的国王陛下、王后陛下,女士们,先生们:

your majesties, your royal highnesses, ladies and gentlemen,

我,一个来自遥远的中国山东高密东北乡的农民的儿子,站在这个举世瞩目的殿堂上,领取了诺贝尔文学奖,这很像一个童话,但却是不容置疑的现实。

for me, a farm boy from gaomi's northeast township in far-away china, standing here in this world-famous hall after having received the nobel prize in literature feels like a fairy tale, but of course it is true.

获奖后一个多月的经历,使我认识到了诺贝尔文学奖巨大的影响和不可撼动的尊严。我一直在冷眼旁观着这段时间里发生的一切,这是千载难逢的认识人世的机会,更是一个认清自我的机会。

my experiences during the months since the announcement have made me aware of the enormous impact of the nobel prize and the unquestionable respect it enjoys. i have tried to view what has happened during this period in a cool, detached way. it has been a golden opportunity for me to learn about the world and, even more so, an opportunity for me to learn about myself.

我深知世界上有许多作家有资格甚至比我更有资格获得这个奖项;我相信,只要他们坚持写下去,只要他们相信文学是人的光荣也是上帝赋予人的权利,那么,“他必将华冠加在你头上,把荣冕交给你。”(《圣经·箴言·第四章》)

i am well aware that there are many writers in the world who would be more worthy laureates than i. i am convinced that if they only continue to write, if they only believe that literature is the ornament of humanity and a god-given right, "she will give you a garland to grace your head and present you with a glorious crown." (proverbs 4:9)

我深知,文学对世界上的政治纷争、经济危机影响甚微,但文学对人的影响却是源远流长。有文学时也许我们认识不到它的重要,但如果没有文学,人的生活便会粗鄙野蛮。因此,我为自己的职业感到光荣也感到沉重。

i am also well aware that literature only has a minimal influence on political disputes or economic crises in the world, but its significance to human beings is ancient. when literature exists, perhaps we do not notice how important it is, but when it does not exist, our lives become coarsened and brutal. for this reason, i am proud of my profession, but also aware of its importance.

借此机会,我要向坚定地坚持自己信念的瑞典学院院士们表示崇高的敬意,我相信,除了文学,没有任何能够打动你们的理由。

i want to take this opportunity to express my admiration for the members of the swedish academy, who stick firmly to their own convictions. i am confident that you will not let yourselves be affected by anything other than literature.

我还要向翻译我作品的各国翻译家表示崇高的敬意,没有你们,世界文学这个概念就不能成立。你们的工作,是人类彼此了解、互相尊重的桥梁。当然,在这样的时刻,我不会忘记我的家人、朋友对我的支持和帮助,他们的智慧和友谊在我的作品里闪耀光芒。

i also want to express my respect for the translators from various countries who have translated my work. without you, there would be no world literature. your work is a bridge that helps people to understand and respect each other. nor, at this moment, can i forget my family and friends, who have given me their support and help. their wisdom and friendship shines through my work.

最后,我要特别地感谢我的故乡中国山东高密的父老乡亲,我过去是,现在是,将来也是你们中的一员;我还要特别地感谢那片生我养我的厚重大地,俗话说,“一方水土养一方人”,我便是这片水土养育出来的一个说书人,我的一切工作,都是为了报答你的恩情。

finally, i wish to extend special thanks to my older relatives and compatriots at home in gaomi, shandong, china. i was, am and always will be one of you. i also thank the fertile soil that gave birth to me and nurtured me. it is often said that a person is shaped by the place where he grows up. i am a storyteller, who has found nourishment in your humid soil. everything that i have done, i have done to thank you!

谢谢大家!

my sincere thanks to all of you!

第5篇 莫言瑞典学院演讲稿:讲故事的人

以下这篇演讲稿是中国当代著名作家莫言获得诺贝尔文学奖时在瑞典学院发表的领奖演讲《讲故事的人》,莫言在这次演讲中追忆了自己的母亲,回顾了文学创作之路,并与听众分享了三个意味深长的“故事”,讲述了自己如何成为一个用笔来讲故事的人的过程。

尊敬的瑞典学院各位院士,女士们、先生们:

通过电视或网络,我想在座的各位,对遥远的高密东北乡,已经有了或多或少的了解。你们也许看到了我的九十岁的老父亲,看到了我的哥哥姐姐我的妻子女儿和我的一岁零四个月的外孙子,但是有一个此刻我最想念的人,我的母亲,你们永远无法看到了。我获奖后,很多人分享了我的光荣,但我的母亲却无法分享了。

我母亲生于1922年,卒于1994年。她的骨灰,埋葬在村庄东边的桃园里。去年,一条铁路要从那儿穿过,我们不得不将她的坟墓迁移到距离村子更远的地方。掘开坟墓后,我们看到,棺木已经腐朽,母亲的骨殖,已经与泥土混为一体。我们只好象征性地挖起一些泥土,移到新的墓穴里。也就是从那一时刻起,我感到,我的母亲是大地的一部分,我站在大地上的诉说,就是对母亲的诉说。

我是我母亲最小的孩子。

我记忆中最早的一件事,是提着家里唯一的一把热水壶去公共食堂打开水。因为饥饿无力,失手将热水瓶打碎,我吓得要命,钻进草垛,一天没敢出来。傍晚的时候我听到母亲呼唤我的乳名,我从草垛里钻出来,以为会受到打骂,但母亲没有打我也没有骂我,只是抚摸着我的头,口中发出长长的叹息。

我记忆中最痛苦的一件事,就是跟着母亲去集体的地理拣麦穗,看守麦田的人来了,拣麦穗的人纷纷逃跑,我母亲是小脚,跑不快,被捉住,那个身材高大的看守人煽了她一个耳光,她摇晃着身体跌倒在地,看守人没收了我们拣到的麦穗,吹着口哨扬长而去。我母亲嘴角流血,坐在地上,脸上那种绝望的神情深我终生难忘。多年之后,当那个看守麦田的人成为一个白发苍苍的老人,在集市上与我相逢,我冲上去想找他报仇,母亲拉住了我,平静的对我说:“儿子,那个打我的人,与这个老人,并不是一个人。”

我记得最深刻的一件事是一个中秋节的中午,我们家难得的包了一顿饺子,每人只有一碗。正当我们吃饺子时,一个乞讨的老人来到了我们家门口,我端起半碗红薯干打发他,他却愤愤不平地说:“我是一个老人,你们吃饺子,却让我吃红薯干。你们的心是怎么长的?”我气急败坏的说:“我们一年也吃不了几次饺子,一人一小碗,连半饱都吃不了!给你红薯干就不错了,你要就要,不要就滚!”母亲训斥了我,然后端起她那半碗饺子,倒进了老人碗里。

我最后悔的一件事,就是跟着母亲去卖白菜,有意无意的多算了一位买白菜的老人一毛钱。算完钱我就去了学校。当我放学回家时,看到很少流泪的母亲泪流满面。母亲并没有骂我,只是轻轻的说:“儿子,你让娘丢了脸。”

我十几岁时,母亲患了严重的肺病,饥饿,病痛,劳累,使我们这个家庭陷入了困境,看不到光明和希望。我产生了一种强烈的不祥之兆,以为母亲随时都会自己寻短见。每当我劳动归来,一进大门就高喊母亲,听到她的回应,心中才感到一块石头落了地。如果一时听不到她的回应,我就心惊胆战,跑到厨房和磨坊里寻找。有一次找遍了所有的房间也没有见到母亲的身影,我便坐在了院子里大哭。这时母亲背着一捆柴草从外面走进来。她对我的哭很不满,但我又不能对她说出我的担忧。母亲看到我的心思,她说:“孩子你放心,尽管我活着没有一点乐趣,但只要阎王爷不叫我,我是不会去的。”

我生来相貌丑陋,村子里很多人当面嘲笑我,学校里有几个性格霸蛮的同学甚至为此打我。我回家痛苦,母亲对我说:“儿子,你不丑,你不缺鼻子不缺眼,四肢健全,丑在哪里?而且只要你心存善良,多做好事,即便是丑也能变美。”后来我进入城市,有一些很有文化的人依然在背后甚至当面嘲弄我的相貌,我想起了母亲的话,便心平气和地向他们道歉。

我母亲不识字,但对识字的人十分敬重。我们家生活困难,经常吃了上顿没下顿。但只要我对她提出买书买文具的要求,她总是会满足我。她是个勤劳的人,讨厌懒惰的孩子,但只要是我因为看书耽误了干活,她从来没批评过我。

有一段时间,集市上来了一个说书人。我偷偷地跑去听书,忘记了她分配给我的活儿。为此,母亲批评了我,晚上当她就着一盏小油灯为家人赶制棉衣时,我忍不住把白天从说书人听来的故事复述给她听,起初她有些不耐烦,因为在她心目中说书人都是油嘴滑舌,不务正业的人,从他们嘴里冒不出好话来。但我复述的故事渐渐的吸引了她,以后每逢集日她便不再给我排活,默许我去集上听书。为了报答母亲的恩情,也为了向她炫耀我的记忆力,我会把白天听到的故事,绘声绘色地讲给她听。

很快的,我就不满足复述说书人讲的故事了,我在复述的过程中,不断地添油加醋。我会投我母亲所好,编造一些情节,有时候甚至改变故事的结局。我的听众,也不仅仅是我的母亲,连我的姐姐,我的婶婶,我的奶奶,都成为我的听众。我母亲在听完我的故事后,有时会忧心忡忡地,像是对我说,又像是自言自语:“儿啊,你长大后会成为一个什么人呢?难道要靠耍贫嘴吃饭吗?”

我理解母亲的担忧,因为在村子里,一个贫嘴的孩子,是招人厌烦的,有时候还会给自己和家庭带来麻烦,我在小说《牛》里所写的那个因为话多被村里人厌恶的孩子,就有我童年时的影子。我母亲经常提醒我少说话,她希望我能做一个沉默寡言、安稳大方的孩子。但在我身上,却显露出极强的说话能力和极大的说话欲望,这无疑是极大的危险,但我的说故事的能力,又带给了她愉悦,这使她陷入深深的矛盾之中。

俗话说“江山易改,本性难移”,尽管有我父母亲的谆谆教导,但我并没改掉我喜欢说话的天性,这使得我的名字“莫言”,很像对自己的讽刺。

我小学未毕业即辍学,因为年幼体弱,干不了重活,只好到荒草滩上去放牧牛羊。当我牵着牛羊从学校门前路过,看到昔日的同学在校园里打打闹闹,我心中充满悲凉,深深地体会到一个人哪怕是一个孩子离开群体后的痛苦。

到了荒滩上,我把牛羊放开,让它们自己吃草。蓝天如海,草地一望无际,周围看不到一个人影,没有人的声音,只有鸟儿在天上鸣叫。

我感到很孤独,很寂寞,心里空空荡荡。有时候,我躺在草地上,望着天上懒洋洋地飘动着的白云,脑海里便浮现出许多莫名其妙的幻想。我们那地方流传着许多狐狸变成美女的故事。我幻想着能有一个狐狸变成美女与我来做伴放牛,但她始终没有出现。但有一次,一只火红色的狐狸从我面前的草丛中跳出来时,我被吓得一屁股蹲在地上。狐狸跑没了踪影,我还在那里颤抖。有时候我会蹲在牛的身旁,看着湛蓝的牛眼和牛眼中的我的倒影。有时候我会模仿着鸟儿的叫声试图与天上的鸟儿对话,有时候我会对一棵树诉说心声。但鸟儿不理我,树也不理我。许多年后,当我成为一个小说家,当年的许多幻想,都被我写进了小说。很多人夸我想象力丰富,有一些文学爱好者,希望我能告诉他们培养想象力的秘诀,对此,我只能报以苦笑。

就像中国的先贤老子所说得那样:“福兮祸所伏,祸兮福所倚”,我童年辍学,饱受饥饿、孤独、无书可读之苦,但我因此也像我们的前辈作家沈从文那样,及早地开始阅读社会人生这本大书。前面所提到的到集市上去听说书人说书,仅仅是这本大书中的一页。

辍学之后,我混迹于成人之中,开始了“用耳朵阅读”的漫长生涯。二百多年前,我的故乡曾出了一个讲故事的伟大天才蒲松龄,我们村里的许多人,包括我,都是他的传人。我在集体劳动的田间地头,在生产队牛棚马厩,在我爷爷奶奶的热炕头上,甚至在摇摇晃晃地行进着的牛车上,聆听了许许多多神鬼故事,历史传奇,逸闻趣事,这些故事都与当地的自然环境、家族历史紧密联系在一起,使我产生了强烈的现实感。

我做梦也想不到有朝一日这些东西会成为我的写作素材,我当时只是一个迷恋故事的孩子,醉心地聆听着人们的讲述。那时我是一个绝对的有神论者,我相信万物都有灵性,我见到一棵大树会肃然起敬。我看到一只鸟会感到它随时会变化成人,我遇到一个陌生人,也会怀疑他是一个动物变化而成。每当夜晚我从生产队的记工房回家时,无边的恐惧便包围了我,为了壮胆,我一边奔跑一边大声歌唱。那时我正处在变声期,嗓音嘶哑,声调难听,我的歌唱,是对我的乡亲们的一种折磨。

我在故乡生活了二十一年,期间离家最远的是乘火车去了一次青岛,还差点迷失在木材厂的巨大木材之间,以至于我母亲问我去青岛看到了什么风景时,我沮丧地告诉她:什么都没看到,只看到了一堆堆的木头。但也就是这次青岛之行,使我产生了想离开故乡到外边去看世界的强烈愿望。

1976年2月,我应征入伍,背着我母亲卖掉结婚时的首饰帮我购买的四本《中国通史简编》,走出了高密东北乡这个既让我爱又让我恨的地方,开始了我人生的重要时期。我必须承认,如果没有30多年来中国社会的巨大发展与进步,如果没有改革开放,也不会有我这样一个作家。

在军营的枯燥生活中,我迎来了八十年代的思想解放和文学热潮,我从一个用耳朵聆听故事,用嘴巴讲述故事的孩子,开始尝试用笔来讲述故事。起初的道路并不平坦,我那时并没有意识到我二十多年的农村生活经验是文学的富矿。那时我以为文学就是写好人好事,就是写英雄模范,所以,尽管也发表了几篇作品,但文学价值很低。

1984年秋,我考入解放军艺术学院文学系,在我的恩师著名作家徐怀中的启发指导下,我写出了《秋水》、《枯河》、《透明的红萝卜》、《红高粱》等一批中短篇小说。在《秋水》这篇小说里,第一次出现了“高密东北乡”这个字眼,从此,就如同一个四处游荡的农民有了一片土地,我这样一个文学的流浪汉,终于有了一个可以安身立命的场所。我必须承认,在创建我的文学领地“高密东北乡”的过程中,美国的威*·福克纳和哥伦比亚的加西亚·马尔克斯给了我重要启发。我对他们的阅读并不认真,但他们开天辟地的豪迈精神激励了我,使我明白了一个作家必须要有一块属于自己的地方。一个人在日常生活中应该谦卑退让,但在文学创作中,必须颐指气使,独断专行。我追随在这两位大师身后两年,即意识到,必须尽快地逃离他们,我在文章中写道:他们是两座灼热的火炉,而我是冰块,如果离他们太近,会被他们蒸发掉。根据我的体会,一个作家之所以会受到某一位作家的影响,其根本是因为影响者和被影响者灵魂深处的相似之处。正所谓“心有灵犀一点通”。所以,尽管我没有很好地去读他们的书,但只读过几页,我就明白了他们干了什么,也明白了他们是怎样干的,随即我也就明白了我该干什么和我该怎样干。

我该干的事情其实很简单,那就是用自己的方式,讲自己的故事。我的方式,就是我所熟知的集市说书人的方式,就是我的爷爷奶奶、村里的老人们讲故事的方式。坦率地说,讲述的时候,我没有想到谁会是我的听众,也许我的听众就是那些如我母亲一样的人,也许我的听众就是我自己,我自己的故事,起初就是我的亲身经历,譬如《枯河》中那个遭受痛打的孩子,譬如《透明的红萝卜》中那个自始至终一言不发的孩子,我的确曾因为干过一件错事而受到过父亲的痛打,我也的确曾在桥梁工地上为铁匠师傅拉过风箱。当然,个人的经历无论多么奇特也不可能原封不动地写进小说,小说必须虚构,必须想象,很多朋友说《透明的红萝卜》是我最好的小说,对此我不反驳,也不认同,但我认为《透明的红萝卜》是我的作品中最有象征性、最意味深长的一部。那个浑身漆黑、具有超人的忍受痛苦的能力和超人的感受能力的孩子,是我全部小说的灵魂,尽管在后来的小说里,我写了很多的人物,但没有一个人物,比他更贴近我的灵魂。或者可以说,一个作家所塑造的若干人物中,总有一个领头的,这个沉默的孩子就是一个领头的,他一言不发,但却有力地领导着形形色色的人物,在高密东北乡这个舞台上,尽情地表演。

自己的故事总是有限的,讲完了自己的故事,就必须讲他人的故事。于是,我的亲人们的故事,我的村人们的故事,以及我从老人们口中听到过的祖先们的故事,就像听到集合令的士兵一样,从我的记忆深处涌出来。他们用期盼的目光看着我,等待着我去写他们。我的爷爷、奶奶、父亲、母亲、哥哥、姐姐、姑姑、叔叔、妻子、女儿,都在我的作品里出现过,还有很多的我们高密东北乡的乡亲,也都在我的小说里露过面。当然,我对他们,都进行了文学化的处理,使他们超越了他们自身,成为文学中的人物。

我最新的小说《蛙》中,就出现了我姑姑的形象。因为我获得诺贝尔奖,许多记者到她家采访,起初她还很耐心地回答提问,但很快便不胜其烦,跑到县城里她儿子家躲起来了。姑姑确实是我写《蛙》时的模特,但小说中的姑姑,与现实生活中的姑姑有着天壤之别。小说中的姑姑专横跋扈,有时简直像个女匪,现实中的姑姑和善开朗,是一个标准的贤妻良母,现实中的姑姑晚年生活幸福美满,小说中的姑姑到了晚年却因为心灵的巨大痛苦患上了失眠症,身披黑袍,像个幽灵一样在暗夜中游荡,我感谢姑姑的宽容,她没有因为我在小说中把她写成那样而生气,我也十分敬佩我姑姑的明智,她正确地理解了小说中人物与现实中人物的复杂关系。

母亲去世后,我悲痛万分,决定写一部书献给她,这就是那本《丰乳肥臀》。因为胸有成竹,因为情感充盈,仅用了83天,我便写出了这部长达50万字的小说的初稿。

在《丰乳肥臀》这本书里,我肆无忌惮地使用了与我母亲的亲身经历有关的素材,但书中的母亲情感方面的经历,则是虚构或取材于高密东北乡诸多母亲的经历。在这本书的卷前语上,我写下了“献给母亲在天之灵”的话,但这本书,实际上是献给天下母亲的,这是我狂妄的野心,就像我希望把小小的“高密东北乡”写成中国乃至世界的缩影一样。

作家的创作过程各有特色,我每本书的构思与灵感触发也都不尽相同,有的小说起源于梦境,譬如《透明的红萝卜》,有的小说则发端于现实生活中发生的事件譬如《天堂蒜薹之歌》。但无论是起源于梦境还是发端于现实,最后都必须和个人的经验相结合,才有可能变成一部具有鲜明个性的,用无数生动细节塑造出了典型人物的,语言丰富多彩、结构匠心独运的文学作品,有必要特别提及的是,在《天堂蒜薹之歌》中,我让一个真正的说书人登场,并在书中扮演了十分重要的角色,我十分抱歉地使用了这个说书人真实姓名,当然,他在书中的所有行为都是虚构。在我的写作中,出现过多次这样的现象,写作之初,我使用他们的真实姓名,希望能借此获得一种亲近感,但作品完成之后,我想为他们改换姓名时却感到已经不可能了,因此也发生过与我小说中人物同名者找到我父亲发泄不满的事情,我父亲替我向他们道歉,但同时又开导他们不要当真。我父亲说,“他在《红高粱》中,第一句就说‘我父亲这个土匪种’,我都不在意你们还在意什么?”

可能是因为我经历过长期的艰难生活,使我对人性有较为深刻的了解,我知道真正的勇敢是什么,也明白真正的悲悯是什么。我知道,每个人心中都有一片难用是非善恶准确定性的朦胧地带,而这片地带,正是文学家施展才华的广阔天地,只要是准确地、生动地描写了这个充满矛盾的朦胧地带的作品,也就必然地超越了政治并具备了优秀文学的品质。

在我的早期作品中,我作为一个现代的说书人,是隐藏在文本背后的,但从《檀香刑》这部小说开始,我终于从后台跳到了前台。如果说我早期的作品是自言自语,目无读者,从这本书开始,我感觉到自己是站在一个广场上,面对着许多听众,绘声绘色地讲述,这是世界小说的传统,更是中国小说的传统。我也曾积极地向西方的现代派小说学习,也曾经玩弄过形形色色的叙事花样,但我最终回归了传统,当然,这种回归,不是一成不变的回归。《檀香刑》和之后的小说,是继承了中国古典小说传统又借鉴了西方小说技术的混合文本。小说领域的所谓创新,基本上都是这种混合的产物。

最后,请允许我再讲一下我的《生死疲劳》。这个书名来自佛教经典,据我所知,为翻译这个书名,各国的翻译家都很头痛。我对佛教经典并没有深入研究,对佛教的理解自然十分肤浅,之所以以此为题,是因为我觉得佛教的许多基本思想,是真正的宇宙意识,人世中许多纷争,在佛家的眼里,是毫无意义的,这样一种至高眼界下的人世,显得十分可悲,当然,我没有把这本书写成布道词,我写的还是人的命运与人的情感,人的局限与人的宽容,以及人为追求幸福,坚持自己的信念所做出的努力与牺牲。小说中那位以一己之身与时代潮流对抗的蓝脸,在我心目中是一位真正的英雄。这个人物的原型,是我们邻村的一位农民,我童年时,经常看到他推着一辆吱吱作响的木轮车,从我家门前的道路上通过。给他拉车的,是一头瘸腿的毛驴,为他牵驴的,是他小脚的妻子。这个奇怪的劳动组合,在当时的集体化社会里,显得那么古怪和不合时宜,在我们这些孩子的眼里,也把他们看成是逆历史潮流而动的小丑,以至于当他们从街上经过时,我们会充满义愤地朝他们投掷石块,事过多年,当我拿起笔来写作时,这个人物,这个画面,便浮现在我的脑海中,我知道,我总有一天会为他写一本书,我迟早要把他的故事讲给天下人听,但一直到了xx年,当我在一座庙宇里看到“六道轮回”的壁画时,才明白了讲述这个故事的正确方法。

我获得诺贝尔文学奖后,引发了一些争议。起初,我还以为大家争议的对象是我,渐渐地,我感到这个被争议的对象,是一个与我毫不相关的人。我如同一个看戏人,看着众人的表演。我看到那个得奖人身上落满了花朵,也被掷上了石块,泼上了污水,我生怕他被打垮,但他微笑着从花朵和石块中钻出来,擦干净身上的脏水,坦然地站在一边,对着众人说。

对一个作家来说,最好的说话方式是写作。我该说的话都写进了我的作品里,用嘴说出的话随风而散,用笔写出的话永不磨灭。我希望你们能耐心地读一下我的书。

即便你们读了我的书,我也不期望你们能改变我的看法,世界上还没有一个作家,能让所有的读者都喜欢他。在当今这样的时代里,更是如此。

尽管我什么都不想说,但在今天这样的场合我必须说话,那我就简单地再说几句。

我是一个讲故事的人,我还是要给你们讲故事。

上世纪六十年代,学校里组织我们去参观一个苦难展览,我们在老师的引领下放声大哭,为了能让老师看到我的表现,我舍不得擦去脸上的泪水,我看到有几位同学悄悄地将唾沫抹到脸上冒充泪水,我还看到在一片真哭假哭的同学之间,有一位同学,脸上没有一滴泪,嘴巴里没有一点声音,也没有用手掩面,他睁着眼看着我们,眼睛里流露出惊讶或者是困惑的神情。事后,我向老师报告了这位同学的行为。为此,学校给了这位同学一个*告处分。多年之后,当我因自己的告密向老师忏悔时,老师说,那天来找他说这件事的,有十几个同学。这位同学十几年前就已去世,每当想起他,我就深感歉疚,这件事让我悟到一个道理,那就是:当众人都哭时,应该允许有的人不哭,当哭成为一种表演时,更应该允许有的人不哭。

我再讲一个故事:三十多年前,我还在部队工作,有一天晚上,我在办公室看书,有一位老长官推门进来,看了一眼我对面的位置,自言自语道:“噢,没有人?”我随即站起来,高声说:“难道说我不是人吗?”那位老长官被我顶得面红耳赤,尴尬而退,为此事,我洋洋得意了许久,以为自己是个英勇的斗士,但事过多年后,我却为此深感内疚。

请允许我讲最后一个故事,这是许多年前我爷爷讲给我听过的:有八个外出打工的泥瓦匠,为避一场暴风雨,躲进了一座破庙,外边的雷声一阵紧似一阵,一个个的火球,在庙门外滚来滚去,空中似乎还有吱吱的龙叫声,众人都胆战心惊,面如土色,有一个人说:“我们八个人中,必定一个人干过伤天害理的坏事,谁干过坏事,就自己走出庙接受惩罚吧,免得让好人受到牵连。”自然没有人愿意出去,又有人提议道:“既然大家都不想出去,那我们就将自己的草帽往外抛吧,谁的草帽被刮出庙门,就说明谁干了坏事,那就请他出去接受惩罚。”于是大家就将自己的草帽往庙门外抛,七个人的草帽被刮回了庙内,只有一个人的草帽被卷了出去,大家就催这个人出去受罚,他自然不愿出去,众人便将他抬起来扔出了庙门,故事的结局我估计大家都猜到了那个人刚被扔出庙门,那座破庙轰然坍塌。

我是一个讲故事的人。因为讲故事我获得了诺贝尔文学奖。

我获奖后发生了很多精彩的故事,这些故事,让我坚信真理和正义是存在的。

今后的岁月里,我将继续讲我的故事。

谢谢大家!

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第6篇 杨振宁莫言范曾《科学与文学》励志演讲稿

范曾:杨先生,今天非常高兴,您和莫言兄来到北大,我记得我看过一些很普及的读物,就是科学的。霍金的《宇宙简史》,《时间简史》,《果壳中的宇宙》,我大概能看懂十分之二。凡是公式的部分全看不懂,可是看了这个呢,我觉得他是一个充满幻想的人,您认识他,而且您对他的评价很高,可是他为什么得不到诺贝尔奖。

杨振宁:我不会回答这个问题。讲起这个诺贝尔奖,我要问莫言一个问题。你跟我走了不同的道路,我们的出身也是完全不一样的,你是个农民的儿子,我是个大学教授的儿子。你走了文学的路,我走了科学的路。我们两个人走上了斯德哥尔摩获奖的这个台上。可是我走上奖台的时候,我深深的感受到,我的感受跟一个美国的诺贝尔学奖获得者的感受是不一样的。我要问莫言,你去年在斯德哥尔摩获奖的时候你是不是也有一个感受,你这个得奖跟一个英国人在那得奖或者一个法国人在那得奖是不一样的。

莫言:我觉得跟任何人都不一样,这个诺贝尔文学奖是第一次颁给中国籍的作家,尤其是关于文学奖在中国的几十年来一直是个热点的问题,我是深受其扰,在没得奖之前,每年到了九月份十月份,就会接到很多很多的电话,一会说你今年怎么样,一会又说你认为谁能得谁不得,后来就干脆这段时间不接电话,不回答。所以这个时候,我就感觉这个得奖者已经变成一个被众人所研究的科学对象了。他已经不是个人了。所以领奖的时候,我感觉到我不是一个领奖者,不是一个被观察者,而变成了一个观察者。我站在这个舞台上,我在看国王、看王后,看国王后面那两个漂亮的女儿。当然我也看台下,看我的太太和我的女儿。所以也有人问我,你在领奖的时候,从国王手里面接到这个奖牌的时候,有什么想法没有?没有想到,都是在观察。

范曾:我想问杨教授,你曾经说过,科学家从来都不能发明,他只是在不断发现。我想问莫言兄,您是在发明创造,还是有另一种途径?

莫言:我想文学创作和科学发现有很多共同的地方,也有一些不同。文学家关注的是人,科学家关注的是物;文学家探讨的是人类的情感,科学家关注的可能是物质的原理。所以同样一个事物在文学家和科学家的眼睛里可能就不一样。我记得鲁迅曾经说过,我们一般人看到的鲜花就是美丽的花朵,但是在植物学家眼里就变成了植物的生殖器官。

但在创造的过程当中它们也有很多共同的地方。严格地说作家的创作也不是无中生有,作家在作品里塑造的所有人物也都是现实当中的人物经过想象、加工后的综合,但他确实又不能跟生活中的任何一个人物对上号,他是属于作家的一种文学创造。所以我觉得这是文学比物理学、化学稍微自由一点的地方。

范曾:我觉得自由得多,尤其莫言兄你的笔就像一支魔笔,神奇幻化,而且给人一种更加真实的感觉。这是我的感受。那谈到风格,文学家的风格是没话说的,科学家的风格怎么体现?科学家和文学家的风格有什么区别?

杨振宁:我想是有区别的。这和前几分钟你问的问题也有密切关系,就是发明跟发现的关系。不管在科学、文学、艺术里,发现跟发明的界限都不是完全清楚。可是我想底下这句话是有道理的,科学里发现的成分比文学里少一点。我可以把这句话从另外一个方向再讨论一下,我知道莫言喜欢写幻想文学,有没有幻想科学呢?我想没有,科学是猜想的学问,不是幻想的学问,幻想的科学我觉得是没有出路的,因为科学所要了解的是一些已经有的现象。没有人类的时候就已经有电、有磁了,科学家要想了解宇宙结构,这就需要想象、需要猜,这跟文学的幻想是很不一样的。我不晓得莫言同不同意我的说法。

莫言:我当然同意。文学家确实需要幻想,我们也知道文学当中还有个重要的门类叫科幻文学,拥有大量读者。其实很多作家并不具备物理学、天文学的知识,但他依然可以在他的小说里进行描写。我记得很早之前我看过蒲松龄的小说《雷操》,写了一个书生从天上摘下星星的故事,这种描写在文学中还有很多。其实文学作品的想象建立在生活经验的基础上,科幻作家的则建立在一定的科学知识之上。文学幻想和科学家猜想的区别更大,它是建立在一定的生活经历之上,再去想象、类推的。

范曾:有发现,而非发明。谈到风格,科学家的风格体现在什么地方?

杨振宁:科学家肯定是有风格的,尤其是大科学家,会有非常清楚的风格。因为在科学家成长过程中,需要提炼、渐渐发展出思路。等到变成大科学家,别人看来,风格就会很清楚。我曾经对于这个问题做过一个讨论。20世纪是物理学最辉煌的世纪,有三个大发明,其中一个叫做量子力学,对于基础物理学是一个了不起的革命,参与的人有三五个,其中有两位非常年轻的学者,一位是德国人海森堡,一个是英国人狄拉克,20世纪初出生的,他们都有巨大的贡献,奠定了量子力学基础。你看他们俩的文章,会惊叹于他们的创新,可是风格是完全不一样的。我曾经说狄拉克的文章是“秋水文章不染尘”,清楚得不得了,走了一段后,跟着他的味道一路走下去没有任何问题。海森堡的贡献十分重要,但是文章非常之乱,每文章都有正确的东西,也有错误的东西,很多时候分不清楚。所以我跟学生说你看见了狄拉克的文章之后,就会觉得没有什么可再做了,所有正确的东西都被他说光了。但是你看了海森堡的东西就要注意,有对有错,对的也很模糊,所以要仔细将对的错的分开,就会有很重大的贡献。这就是两种风格,整个物理学前沿的发展就是这两种不同的风格互相影响而发展来的。我不知道文学的发展是不是也有类似的现象?

莫言:作家肯定都有作家的风格,通过语言来体现。要区别鲁迅和沈从文,哪怕把他们名字盖掉,一读文章也能作出准确的判断。整体来说,文学经过了这么长时间的发展和变化,有了各种流派。但是各种各样的流派和风格对作家而言有时候也是一种无可奈何。比如说,一段时间内现实主义的写法,巴尔扎克等大作家已经把这种风格发挥到了一种登峰造极的地步,后来者很难超越。作家只有对前人的作品有所超越或者不同,才能在文坛上站住脚跟。这就逼着作家去想另外的出路,千方百计避开这些已经非常辉煌的写作*格,寻找自己的风格,我想各种流派的产生大部分都基于此。作家个人刚开始肯定会模仿各种各样流派的写法,在广泛的阅读和借鉴的过程当中慢慢强化或者突出个性,形成自己鲜明的风格,才有可能在文坛上占据一席之地。

杨振宁:9年前,范曾先生画了一幅大画送给南开大学数学研究所。画的是我和陈省身先生之间的对话,把我和他的表情都表现得非常好,我尤其欣赏的是范曾题的诗,其中有一句“真情妙悟著文章”。我认为这七个字将科学研究所必需的过程说得非常清楚。先要有真情,就是浓厚的兴趣,然后是妙悟,有了它才能有结果:著文章。三部曲道尽了科学研究必经的过程。我想问莫言先生,这七个字描述文学的形成过程是不是也恰当?

莫言:更加恰当了,因为是“著文章”嘛。

范曾:我过去问过陈省身先生,我说您是伟大数学家,您的学问我一点儿也不懂,为什么别人说你好,好在什么地方?他对我这个“数学无知”无可奈何,却回答得很有意味。他说,我做得简练,很漂亮。我想解答一个数学问题,用很繁琐的方法得到结论肯定不如用简洁的方法得到同样结论。可是谈到小说的话,光简洁也是不行的,要丰富,要绚烂。有不太了解莫言的人说莫言的小说太长,我不觉得长,最长的《丰乳肥臀》也有种不尽之意在。光是简洁漂亮可能不是小说家的使命。莫言您觉得要达到“真情妙悟著文章”应该是怎样的?

莫言:刚才谈到作家的风格,有一类很简洁、干净利索,比如海明威,有的人非常繁复,像福克纳。我们中国作家也可以举出很多的例子。作家的风格应该是很多样的,朦胧、简洁、繁茂都是美,这可能比科学要自由。

杨振宁:如果问一个数学家或者物理学家,说你所做的重要的工作,里面的妙悟能不能讲出来?通常都能讲出来。在对于一个问题思考了很久,突然灵机一动,思想就会非常开朗。但是如果问一个文学家,最重要的工作是不是中间有一个顿悟的时光?我想没有。

莫言:也有。灵感突然到来,创作中的问题也就解决了。有时候也靠做梦。我记得看过门捷列夫发明元素周期表就在做梦时排列出来的,作家也会在梦中构思出很好的情节。《生死疲劳》其实早就想写,但一直也写不下去,就是因为长篇小说的结构没有想好。有一年我去参观一个庙宇,在墙壁上看到一幅壁画,关于佛教的六道轮回。我突然感到顿悟,就用六道轮回做了长篇结构。所以写得特别顺利。

范曾:两位先生讲的对我启发太大了。妙悟在科学和文学中都有,但是表现是不一样的。要到实验中去证明,文学家妙悟后直接写出文章。文学要比科学自由得多。

范曾:谈到年龄,科学家成功的年龄和文学家成功的年龄是很不一样的。莫言这样的小说家,必须要有丰富的生活经历,并且博览群书,十七八岁或者二十几岁就想出一个惊世骇俗的东西,这基本不可能。可科学家是不是取得杰出成就的时间会提前一些?

杨振宁:一般讲起来,尤其是数学和理论物理,这是很清楚的,二三十岁的人势不可挡。爱因斯坦二十六岁的时候一年中写了文章,其中绝对是世界级的。所以有些科学的领域特别适合年轻人走进去。为什么?有一个说法是年轻人知识面不够广,要解决具体问题的时候只专注在这个上面,只对着一点勇往直前。到年纪大了以后,学的东西多,面就广了,有一个很大的坏处,就是顾虑也多了。在数学和理论物理里,十分明显。我想在文学里,年龄很大的能做出非常大的工作,比如杜甫就是晚年成大家的。文学中创意的来源跟科学中的不一样。

范曾:我想请二位诺贝尔奖得主用最简短的语言谈谈你们的中国梦。

杨振宁:我觉得这不能用一两句话讲。中国民族一百多年被欺负得非常悲惨,在座年轻人也许对此不太了解,我父亲和我这一辈子,“被欺负”是灵魂深处的感受。原因大家也知道,是中国没有发展近代科学。对于获得诺贝尔奖,变成了全民族的期待,这是很自然的。我想是最近这几十年中国的发展给了整个中华民族一个新的前途,也就产生了中国梦。我认为中国梦是会实现的。我在国内有十多年了,我知道有数不清有能力、有决心的年轻人。当然也存在问题,这是不可避免的,中国要在几十年内追上西方几百年发展的成果,问题不可避免。但是我们在种种方面都证明,我们可以将很多问题都克服,所以我对于中国梦的实现是充满了乐观的态度。

莫言:最近我在网上看见一条消息,美国的一家公司在征集第一批移民火星的志愿者,中国人报名很多。我想这也表达了中国人的梦想:到天上去。

范曾:要言不烦。因为我们的航天事业正在迅猛发展。

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以下这篇演讲稿是中国当代著名作家莫言2019年获得诺贝尔文学奖时在瑞典学院发表的领奖演讲《讲故事的人》(storyteller),莫言在这次演讲中追忆了自己的母亲,回顾了文学创作之…
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