不知何故，我的 大江健三郎 剩下這篇?
致新人
獻給成長中的新人類 寄望未來的主人翁
諾貝爾文學獎得主大江健三郎的誠摯禮物
大江夫人親手繪制十余幅彩圖
梁文道推薦，台灣中學生閱讀會最受歡迎圖書
諾貝爾文學獎得主大江健三郎以柔和的筆調、真性情的文句向青少年剖析自己的人生想法，與成長中的新人分享歷經世事的成人經驗，像如何鍛煉不說謊的能力、人 生習慣的養成、閱讀的方法和樂趣等等。十五篇散文蘊含深厚的文化與深刻的思想，是能讀到作者誠摯心意且讓讀者動容的大家小書。書中十余幅彩圖由大江夫人親 手繪制。
作者簡介：大江健三郎，日本著名小說家，諾貝爾文學獎獲得者，1935年出生於日本四國地區一個被森林圍擁的小山村，少年時代在母親影響下對魯迅開始了此 後不曾間斷的閱讀，大學時代在渡邊一夫教授的引領下沐浴了歐洲人文主義的光芒，並由此走上了創作道路。1960年對中國進行的第一次訪問，使得「農村包圍 城市」與文化人類學的邊緣和中心之概念結合起來，最終演化為《萬延元年的Footbabll》、《同時代的游戲》等諸多作品中的根據地/烏托邦。1994 年以《個人的體驗》和《萬元延年的Football》獲得諾貝爾文學獎後，大江健三郎更強烈地意識到作家的責任，借助《空翻》、《被偷換的孩子》、《愁容 童子》、《別了，我的書！》等作品在絕望中尋找希望，並於《在自己的樹下》、《兩百年的孩子》等作品里表現了對新人、孩子和童子等未來之象征所寄予的希望 ┅┅
諾貝爾文學獎得主大江健三郎的誠摯禮物
大江夫人親手繪制十余幅彩圖
梁文道推薦，台灣中學生閱讀會最受歡迎圖書
諾貝爾文學獎得主大江健三郎以柔和的筆調、真性情的文句向青少年剖析自己的人生想法，與成長中的新人分享歷經世事的成人經驗，像如何鍛煉不說謊的能力、人 生習慣的養成、閱讀的方法和樂趣等等。十五篇散文蘊含深厚的文化與深刻的思想，是能讀到作者誠摯心意且讓讀者動容的大家小書。書中十余幅彩圖由大江夫人親 手繪制。
作者簡介：大江健三郎，日本著名小說家，諾貝爾文學獎獲得者，1935年出生於日本四國地區一個被森林圍擁的小山村，少年時代在母親影響下對魯迅開始了此 後不曾間斷的閱讀，大學時代在渡邊一夫教授的引領下沐浴了歐洲人文主義的光芒，並由此走上了創作道路。1960年對中國進行的第一次訪問，使得「農村包圍 城市」與文化人類學的邊緣和中心之概念結合起來，最終演化為《萬延元年的Footbabll》、《同時代的游戲》等諸多作品中的根據地/烏托邦。1994 年以《個人的體驗》和《萬元延年的Football》獲得諾貝爾文學獎後，大江健三郎更強烈地意識到作家的責任，借助《空翻》、《被偷換的孩子》、《愁容 童子》、《別了，我的書！》等作品在絕望中尋找希望，並於《在自己的樹下》、《兩百年的孩子》等作品里表現了對新人、孩子和童子等未來之象征所寄予的希望 ┅┅
目錄
黑柳女士的「敲鑼打鼓隊」
撞頭的故事
寫給孩子們的卡拉馬佐夫
成群結隊的雅羅魚
電池風波
沒有獲獎的九十九人
壞心眼兒的能量
不撒謊的力量
夢想當「知識分子」
傳達別人的話
要是年輕人能知道！要是老年人能做到！
忍耐與希望
生存練習
慢讀法
唯有做「新人」
撞頭的故事
寫給孩子們的卡拉馬佐夫
成群結隊的雅羅魚
電池風波
沒有獲獎的九十九人
壞心眼兒的能量
不撒謊的力量
夢想當「知識分子」
傳達別人的話
要是年輕人能知道！要是老年人能做到！
忍耐與希望
生存練習
慢讀法
唯有做「新人」
Japan earthquake and tsunami: 'I miss hearing my children coming home from school'
The siren that blared out from the tower alongside Okawa Elementary School was strident and unmistakable.
Masako Karino sits in front of photos and other memorabilia belonging to her children, Tatsuya and Misaki Photo: ROBERT GILHOOLY
None of the 108 children at the school had experienced an earth tremor of magnitude 9 before but, as all Japanese pupils are trained to do, they responded in accordance with the emergency plan and quickly assembled in the playground. By this time, the massive wave was roaring into the bay at the mouth of the Kitakami River and beginning its sweep inland.
A heated disagreement reportedly delayed their next steps, with a senior teacher insisting that they should make for higher ground close to the bridge over the river, while another teacher argued the children should climb the wooded hill that rises steeply behind the school.
The delay proved fatal. With the tsunami ripping through the 110 homes that lay between the school and the coast and broaching the dyke, the children belatedly made for the bridge but were engulfed.
Seventy pupils were killed and, one year later, another four are still missing. Ten teachers were among the dead and another has still not been found.
On the wall in Masako Karino's room are photographs of her son, Tatsuya – a smiling 11 year-old who was swept away by the tsunami that swallowed the school, and his eight-year-old sister, Misaki.
Tatsuya liked to draw, and framed pictures of fantasy deities and sunflowers are propped against the wall. He had a globe and knew the different television stations in countries around the world. When he grew up, Tatsuya wanted to design computer games.
"Misaki was very cheerful and bubbly," Mrs Karino adds in a quiet, controlled voice. "But she was also competitive and she hated to lose at anything. She had a unicycle, but she would never wear trousers – it was always a skirt or a dress, no matter the weather. I kept telling her that she would fall off and scrape her knees, but she never listened to me, so she kept falling and cutting her knees."
On the afternoon of March 11, Mrs Karino had been frantically trying to get home after the earthquake struck, but the roads were blocked. Her husband attempted to find a way along the high embankment that protected their community from the river, but the tsunami had already overcome it and destroyed dozens of homes.
Soon it was dark and they had no choice but to wait for daybreak. After a sleepless night, Mr Karino climbed through the pine forests that separate their valley from the school. "He saw water all around the school," Mrs Karino says. "He knew straight away there was little chance they could have survived."
Of all the individual tragedies that befell north-east Japan one year ago, few are more poignant than that which occurred here.
The school is the only building that still stands in a scoured landscape. Homes, shops, hospitals, the local community centre have all been eradicated. A year on, trucks are hauling away the last few piles of collected debris.
The salty smell of the sea is mixed with the stench of the black mud that remains coated across the village. In the elementary school not a window remains intact but the concrete shell stands, with blackboards still in place and a mural of children in different national costumes. Two wooden desks salvaged from the debris are stacked on top of one another in an empty classroom. Plastic sheeting flaps in the bitter wind.
The hill that stands behind the school and offered the children sanctuary is unmarked.
As soon as they were able, parents started looking for their children.
One day, after lifting lumps of shattered wood and twisted metal in the remains of village, Mr Karino discovered the security alarm that all Japanese children are issued with that belonged to his son. "He picked it up and it started buzzing," Mrs Karino said. "He couldn't turn it off so he just held it between his hands and brought it all the way home. When he got here, it stopped."
Tatsuya's body was found on March 22. Without warning, his alarm sounded again in the night of April 1. The following day, Misaki's body was discovered. The alarm has not gone off since.
"It has been nearly a year now, but it seems as if it all happened just yesterday," says Mrs Karino. "We have gone through all the rites for when a person dies and I am aware that they are no longer with us, but I still get the feeling that they are here.
"Because we live a long way from the river, we did not lose our home or any of our belongings, so the only thing that is missing is the children and hearing them come home in the afternoon."
Mrs Karino has returned to her job, for a construction company in Ishinomaki, because it helps take her mind off things, she said.
Her husband has arguably taken their loss worse and keeps saying that he wished he had spent more time with the family and not at work.
Mrs Karino said the local authorities had offered counselling – albeit four months after the disaster – but she does not have the strength to be angry about all that happened any more.
Not all the bereaved parents feel the same way, however.
Naomi Hiratsuka was locked in an animated discussion with a town official in a hard hat just yards from the school where her 12-year-old daughter, Koharu, was also among those killed.
For the past 10 days, a one-mile stretch of a tributary of the river had been dammed to enable the first search of the area, but heavy rain and snow had filled a pool above the dam and authorities said they had no choice but to release the water.
"We have pleaded with them not to, to give us a few more days, but they say it's not possible," says Mrs Hiratsuka, 38.
"It's the same old story; they have not done enough for us," she said.
"Everything that they have done is too little, too late."
It took a long time for the searchers to discover Koharu's body and she was only found, on Aug 8, about 3 miles away in the neighbouring Naburi Bay. In the meantime, Mrs Hiratsuka completed a course in operating heavy machinery and used a rented digger to help with the search.
Even after Koharu was found, she continues the search for the other missing children.
"In the morning, I send my other two children to school and then I come here and dig all day," she says. "I'll take a break for lunch and then start again. When it gets dark, I'll go home and make dinner for the family.
"That is my life now," she says with a shrug.
Methodically, Mrs Hiratsuka's digger rakes over a stretch of ground that used to be someone's garden. Nothing remains standing between the river and the base of the pine-clad hill to the south.
One year on, the death toll from the worst natural disaster to befall Japan in living memory stands at 15,846, with a further 3,320 still listed as missing.
In towns such as Ishinomaki, Minami Sanriku and Ofunato, heavy machinery has cleared away most of the debris and left order of a sort. The remnants of these communities are being sorted – with typical Japanese thoroughness – into mounds of plastic, piles of wood that has come from buildings, lengths of lumber and metals.
Other victims of the disaster – such as the cargo ship the Kyoutokumaru, which is propped upright on the foundations of a home in Kessenuma, with a burnt-out car beneath its keel – will take longer to remove. All along the coast, diggers and trucks are in constant motion taking away the physical reminders of a tragedy. Next weekend, on March 11, a priest will come to the Karino family home to perform solemn rites and the relatives will gather to mark an unwanted anniversary.
Mrs Karino says: "I understand what has happened and I know that they are not coming back, so there are times when the lows are very low and I don't think that I am coping very well at all.
"But we have to go on," she added. "That is why my husband and I have decided to have another child."
Tatsuya liked to draw, and framed pictures of fantasy deities and sunflowers are propped against the wall. He had a globe and knew the different television stations in countries around the world. When he grew up, Tatsuya wanted to design computer games.
"Misaki was very cheerful and bubbly," Mrs Karino adds in a quiet, controlled voice. "But she was also competitive and she hated to lose at anything. She had a unicycle, but she would never wear trousers – it was always a skirt or a dress, no matter the weather. I kept telling her that she would fall off and scrape her knees, but she never listened to me, so she kept falling and cutting her knees."
On the afternoon of March 11, Mrs Karino had been frantically trying to get home after the earthquake struck, but the roads were blocked. Her husband attempted to find a way along the high embankment that protected their community from the river, but the tsunami had already overcome it and destroyed dozens of homes.
Soon it was dark and they had no choice but to wait for daybreak. After a sleepless night, Mr Karino climbed through the pine forests that separate their valley from the school. "He saw water all around the school," Mrs Karino says. "He knew straight away there was little chance they could have survived."
Of all the individual tragedies that befell north-east Japan one year ago, few are more poignant than that which occurred here.
The school is the only building that still stands in a scoured landscape. Homes, shops, hospitals, the local community centre have all been eradicated. A year on, trucks are hauling away the last few piles of collected debris.
The salty smell of the sea is mixed with the stench of the black mud that remains coated across the village. In the elementary school not a window remains intact but the concrete shell stands, with blackboards still in place and a mural of children in different national costumes. Two wooden desks salvaged from the debris are stacked on top of one another in an empty classroom. Plastic sheeting flaps in the bitter wind.
The hill that stands behind the school and offered the children sanctuary is unmarked.
As soon as they were able, parents started looking for their children.
One day, after lifting lumps of shattered wood and twisted metal in the remains of village, Mr Karino discovered the security alarm that all Japanese children are issued with that belonged to his son. "He picked it up and it started buzzing," Mrs Karino said. "He couldn't turn it off so he just held it between his hands and brought it all the way home. When he got here, it stopped."
Tatsuya's body was found on March 22. Without warning, his alarm sounded again in the night of April 1. The following day, Misaki's body was discovered. The alarm has not gone off since.
"It has been nearly a year now, but it seems as if it all happened just yesterday," says Mrs Karino. "We have gone through all the rites for when a person dies and I am aware that they are no longer with us, but I still get the feeling that they are here.
"Because we live a long way from the river, we did not lose our home or any of our belongings, so the only thing that is missing is the children and hearing them come home in the afternoon."
Mrs Karino has returned to her job, for a construction company in Ishinomaki, because it helps take her mind off things, she said.
Her husband has arguably taken their loss worse and keeps saying that he wished he had spent more time with the family and not at work.
Mrs Karino said the local authorities had offered counselling – albeit four months after the disaster – but she does not have the strength to be angry about all that happened any more.
Not all the bereaved parents feel the same way, however.
Naomi Hiratsuka was locked in an animated discussion with a town official in a hard hat just yards from the school where her 12-year-old daughter, Koharu, was also among those killed.
For the past 10 days, a one-mile stretch of a tributary of the river had been dammed to enable the first search of the area, but heavy rain and snow had filled a pool above the dam and authorities said they had no choice but to release the water.
"We have pleaded with them not to, to give us a few more days, but they say it's not possible," says Mrs Hiratsuka, 38.
"It's the same old story; they have not done enough for us," she said.
"Everything that they have done is too little, too late."
It took a long time for the searchers to discover Koharu's body and she was only found, on Aug 8, about 3 miles away in the neighbouring Naburi Bay. In the meantime, Mrs Hiratsuka completed a course in operating heavy machinery and used a rented digger to help with the search.
Even after Koharu was found, she continues the search for the other missing children.
"In the morning, I send my other two children to school and then I come here and dig all day," she says. "I'll take a break for lunch and then start again. When it gets dark, I'll go home and make dinner for the family.
"That is my life now," she says with a shrug.
Methodically, Mrs Hiratsuka's digger rakes over a stretch of ground that used to be someone's garden. Nothing remains standing between the river and the base of the pine-clad hill to the south.
One year on, the death toll from the worst natural disaster to befall Japan in living memory stands at 15,846, with a further 3,320 still listed as missing.
In towns such as Ishinomaki, Minami Sanriku and Ofunato, heavy machinery has cleared away most of the debris and left order of a sort. The remnants of these communities are being sorted – with typical Japanese thoroughness – into mounds of plastic, piles of wood that has come from buildings, lengths of lumber and metals.
Other victims of the disaster – such as the cargo ship the Kyoutokumaru, which is propped upright on the foundations of a home in Kessenuma, with a burnt-out car beneath its keel – will take longer to remove. All along the coast, diggers and trucks are in constant motion taking away the physical reminders of a tragedy. Next weekend, on March 11, a priest will come to the Karino family home to perform solemn rites and the relatives will gather to mark an unwanted anniversary.
Mrs Karino says: "I understand what has happened and I know that they are not coming back, so there are times when the lows are very low and I don't think that I am coping very well at all.
"But we have to go on," she added. "That is why my husband and I have decided to have another child."
大江健三郎 新小說《被偷換的孩子》原名Changeling—這是一有風俗的字眼。WordNet Dictionary 發音為: 'cheynjling
Definition: [n] a child secretly exchanged for another in infancy /[n] a person of subnormal intelligence
Synonyms: cretin, half-wit, idiot, imbecile, moron, retard
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Webster's 1913 Dictionary
Definition: \Change"ling\, n. [Change + -ling 表示「幼小者/不重要者」.]
1. One who, or that which, is left or taken in the place of another, as a child exchanged by fairies.
Such, men do changelings call, so changed by fairies' theft. --Spenser.
The changeling [a substituted writing] never known. --Shak.
2. A simpleton; an idiot. --Macaulay.
Changelings and fools of heaven, and thence shut out.
Wildly we roam in discontent about. --Dryden.
3. One apt to change; a waverer. ``Fickle changelings.'' --Shak.
\Change"ling\, a.1. Taken or left in place of another; changed. ``A little
changeling boy.'' --Shak.
2. Given to change; inconstant. [Obs.] Some are so studiously changeling. --Boyle.
「《被 偷換的孩子》講述的是日本戰敗後的故事：就在日本與美國佔領當局簽訂的媾和條約將要生效之際，一夥打著愛國旗號的國家主義分子為了發動象徵性抵抗，以英俊 美少年吾良的肉體為誘餌，將美軍軍官誘至山中殺害，與此同時，英俊少年吾良的善良和純真也一同毀掉了。據日本文學專家加注在原著封面題名旁的片假名表明， 《被偷換的孩子》書名源自於英語辭彙changeling，一個在歐洲各國流傳甚廣的民間故事，說的是每當美麗的嬰兒出生後，侏儒小鬼戈布林便常常會用自 己醜陋的孩子偷偷換走那美麗的嬰兒。這個被留下來的醜孩子，就是changeling了。
而據日本文學翻譯家許金龍介紹，大江先生在這裏引用的 changeling，典出於美國著名兒童文學作家、漫畫家莫里斯•森達克(Maurice Sendak)根據這個民間故事創作的繪本《外面那邊》（Outside Over There (Caldecott Collection) by Maurice Sendak 1981）：為了安撫哭鬧不已的嬰兒，美麗而率真的少女愛達用圓號對窗外吹奏起悅耳的曲子，搖籃中的小妹妹停止哭鬧並聽得入迷，愛達本人也沉醉於吹奏而忘 了照看妹妹。此時，幾個身披斗篷的侏儒小鬼戈布林，偷走了這個嬰兒，留下一具冰雕而成的戈布林嬰孩。
大江健三郎作品的強烈 現實性在這部小說中同樣得到了體現，許金龍說，不妨將作品中的古義人看做作者本人，而那被偷換的孩子看做是他的妻兄、那個因身陷媒體炒作的緋聞而跳樓自殺 的電影導演伊丹十三。伊丹十三曾導演過一部辛辣嘲諷黑社會的電影《民暴之女》並獲得巨大成功，他也曾因這部電影開罪了黑社會，被暴力團的歹徒用利刃兇殘地 刺傷面部和頸部，而最後的決絕則是現實世界裏的戈布林們所製造的災難。
誰是 changeling？誰又是戈布林？大江健三郎在這篇小說中表達了對日本社會的憂慮：越來越多的人內心的公正和良知正在被戈布林們盜走；一些年輕人內心的純真和美好正在被戈布林們盜走；同時，一些政客內心的道德和良知也正在被戈布林們盜走。」
2003 "Nihyakunen no kodomo" in Japan （The title means 200 years child. ）2000/12/5 Oe has published new novel TORIKAEKO(Changeling) in Japan ：This novel's motif is ITAMI Juzo's die. Mr. Oe has described a long relationship since teen age between ITAMI and him . Oe has published "SAKOKUSHITEHA NARANAI" 不可以鎖國and "IIGATAKI NAGEKIMOTE" 難言的嘆息in Japan.
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Changeling is a 2008 American drama film directed by Clint Eastwood and written by J. Michael Straczynski. Based on real-life events in 1928 Los Angeles, the film stars Angelina Jolie as a woman who is reunited with her missing son—only to realize he is an impostor. She confronts the city authorities, who vilify her as an unfit mother and brand her delusional. The dramatized incident was connected to the "Wineville Chicken Coop" kidnapping and murder case. Changeling explores female disempowerment, political corruption, child endangerment, and the repercussions of violence. Ron Howard intended to direct, but scheduling conflicts led to his replacement by Eastwood. Howard and his Imagine Entertainment partner Brian Grazer produced Changeling alongside Malpaso Productions' Robert Lorenz and Eastwood. Universal Pictures financed and distributed the film.
 Theatrical release poster | |
| Directed by | Clint Eastwood |
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