纳博科夫的园地

“快男”虽然容易引起歧异，但节目本身还是很好看的。有出色的创意，有精彩的点评，有幽默的主持，选手自身也各具特色。在“超女”热火朝天的时候，原来男人选秀也可以这样引人入胜。想起两年前，到河源出差，正是“超女”进入最后冲刺的时候，没想到伟大的FT同学的故乡的酒店，居然没有湖南卫视，不得已我和另外一位同事跑了几家网吧企图能看上网上直播，遗憾的是最终没有如愿。至今我还保留着那里几家网吧的上网卡。

星期六晚上，中大在永芳堂前举行第21届维纳斯比赛。老早以前就想办法弄了两张票。因为记忆里这是一个精彩的比赛，曾经在大学低年级（大一还是大二）给我留下了美好的回忆。实际的情况跟回忆有很大的距离，并没有给我带来太大的惊喜，跟前一天的“快男”就有天渊的差距。想想这也难怪，连PH都可以获得冠军的比赛能有怎样的水平，就像小的都可以上“同一首歌”，这样节目还有谁看呢？

Mark Lennihan/Associated Press, 1993
大卫·哈伯斯坦（图片文字全部来自纽约时报，在很久以前的《书城》上看到过这个人的访问）
David Halberstam, a Pulitzer Prize-winning author and former reporter for The New York Times, wrote on topics as varied as the Vietnam War and professional basketball. He was killed in a car crash on April 23, 2007, at age 73.

（CLYDE HABERMAN）David Halberstam, a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and tireless author of books on topics as varied as America’s military failings in Vietnam, the deaths of firefighters at the World Trade Center and the high-pressure world of professional basketball, was killed yesterday in a car crash

Mr. Halberstam was a passenger in a car making a turn in Menlo Park, Calif., when it was hit broadside by another car and knocked into a third vehicle, said the San Mateo County coroner. He was pronounced dead at the scene.

The man who was driving Mr. Halberstam, a journalism student at the University of California at Berkeley, was injured, as were the drivers of the other two vehicles. None of those injuries were called serious.

Mr. Halberstam was killed doing what he had done his entire adult life: reporting. He was on his way to interview Y. A. Tittle, the former New York Giants quarterback, for a book about the 1958 championship game between the Giants and the Baltimore Colts, considered by many to be the greatest football game ever played.

Tall, square-jawed and graced with an imposing voice so deep that it seemed to begin at his ankles, Mr. Halberstam came into his own as a journalist in the early 1960s covering the nascent American war in South Vietnam for The New York Times.

His reporting, along with that of several colleagues, left little doubt that a corrupt South Vietnamese government supported by the United States was no match for Communist guerrillas and their North Vietnamese allies. His dispatches infuriated American military commanders and policy makers in Washington, but they accurately reflected the realities on the ground.

For that work, Mr. Halberstam shared a Pulitzer Prize in 1964. Eight years later, after leaving The Times, he chronicled what went wrong in Vietnam — how able and dedicated men propelled the United States into a war later deemed unwinnable — in a book whose title entered the language: “The Best and the Brightest.”

Mr. Halberstam went on to write more than 20 books, including one on the Korean War scheduled to be published in the fall.

“I think the work he was proudest of was his trilogy on war,” his wife, Jean Halberstam, said last night. Besides “The Best and the Brightest,” she was referring to a study of United States policies in the 1990s called “War in a Time of Peace: Bush, Clinton and the Generals,” and the Korean War book, “The Coldest Winter.”

Mr. Halberstam’s range, however, extended well beyond war. His interests roamed from basketball to the auto industry, from the 1949 American League pennant race to the rise of modern media conglomerates in the 20th century.

“A writer should be like a playwright — putting people on stage, putting ideas on stage, making the reader become the audience,” he recently told an interviewer for NY1 News.

Over the years, he developed a pattern of alternating a book with a weighty theme with one that might seem of slighter import but to which he nonetheless applied his considerable reportorial muscles. “He was a man who didn’t have a lazy bone in his body,” said the writer Gay Talese, a close family friend.

Almost invariably, Mr. Halberstam wrote about sports in those alternate books. “They were his entertainments,” his wife said. “They were his way to take a break.”

As a result, his book on the media, “The Powers That Be,” was followed by a basketball book, “The Breaks of the Game.” A study of the decline of the American automobile industry and the Japanese ascension, “The Reckoning,” was followed before long by “The Summer of ’49,” on an epic pennant battle between the New York Yankees and Boston Red Sox.

Other works included “The Fifties,” a look at a decade that he argued was more monumental than many believed; “The Children,” about the civil-rights movement of the 1960s; and “Firehouse,” a study of the tight-knit world of New York firefighters, focused on 13 men from a firehouse near his Upper West Side home who went to the World Trade Center on 9/11. Only one survived.

David Halberstam was born on April 10, 1934, in New York City, to an Army surgeon, Dr. Charles A. Halberstam, and a schoolteacher, Blanche Levy Halberstam. His older brother, Michael, became a well-known cardiologist in Washington. In 1980, Michael Halberstam was shot in his home and killed by an intruder.

After World War II, the Halberstam family moved to Westchester County. David attended school in Yonkers, and then went to Harvard, where he graduated in 1955. By then, his commitment to journalism had been sealed. He was managing editor of the student newspaper, The Crimson.

After graduation, he went south and wrote about the nascent civil-rights movement, first for The West Point Daily Times Leader in Mississippi, then for The Nashville Tennessean. In 1960 he joined The New York Times, first in the Washington bureau, then as a foreign correspondent based in Congo.

It was when he went to South Vietnam in 1962 that he began to leave an indelible journalistic mark.

He soon saw that the American-backed government in Saigon was corrupt and failing — and he said so. William Prochnau, who wrote a book on the reporting of that period, “Once Upon a Distant War,” said last night that Mr. Halberstam and other American journalists then in Vietnam were incorrectly regarded by many as antiwar.

“He was not antiwar,” Mr. Prochnau said. “They were cold war children, just like me, brought up on hiding under the desk.” It was simply a case, he said, of American commanders lying to the press about what was happening in Vietnam. “They were shut out and they were lied to,” Mr. Prochnau said. And Mr. Halberstam “didn’t say, ‘You’re not telling me the truth.’ He said, ‘You’re lying.’ He didn’t mince words.”

President John F. Kennedy was so incensed by Mr. Halberstam’s war coverage that he strongly suggested to The Times’s publisher, Arthur Ochs Sulzberger, that the reporter be replaced. Mr. Sulzberger replied that Mr. Halberstam would stay where he was. He even had the reporter cancel a scheduled vacation so that no one would get the wrong idea.

After Vietnam and after winning his Pulitzer Prize, Mr. Halberstam was assigned to the Times bureau in Warsaw. There, he met an actress, Elzbieta Czyzewska, whom he married in 1965. That marriage was short-lived. In 1979, he married Jean Sandness, then a writer.

In addition to his wife, he is survived by their daughter, Julia, also of Manhattan.

By the late 1960s, Mr. Halberstam tired of daily journalism and he left The Times, not exactly on mutually amicable terms. After that, he devoted himself to books, magazine articles and even a Vietnam-based novel, “One Very Hot Day.”

有必要对这个日理万机的一周作一个回顾。

星期一晚上听乌丙安讲座。

星期二晚上听陈平原讲座。

星期三下午去学车。

星期四上午去考车，由于临时改变考试地点，认不清地上的标志，没过。离凑齐六艺的日子又远了一点。

星期五边工作边复习星期六的政治考试。

星期六上午考政治，监考老师居然是key姐，激动之余大声叫了一声“师姐”，立刻意识到太张扬了，科场避嫌啊。

星期六下午去越秀山看广州医药队对成都谢菲联的比赛，之前找stand和阿傻，都说没空，刚好有另外的朋友打来电话，于是和他们夫妻同去。比赛差点打架，值得一看，广州球迷很疯狂，有一个扔东西的胖子被警察带走。

星期天晚上去中山纪念堂看省总工会组织的庆五一文艺演出，冒充摄影记者，彩排看一遍，正式演出看一遍，差点进入梦乡。

无意中看到《小说笔记》的装帧涉及是陆智昌，就像我后来上网搜索到的很多人所说的一样，这个名字给人的感觉是古朴典雅，似乎是在京城浸淫多年的文化老人。 而事实上他是一个很年轻的时尚人物。简历如下：香港出生；1988年以甲等成绩毕业于香港理工大学平面设计课程；曾于香港从事书籍装帧设计工作10多年， 其间曾游学巴黎两年，并习版画于巴黎17号版画室；2000年迄今居于北京，从事装帧设计、出版策划等工作；参予设计的书籍曾获奖达40多项；2004年 获第六届全国书籍装帧设计金奖、中国最美的书。

他所设计的书籍装帧大多简洁、精致，富有书卷气息，主要以文化艺术为主。近年三联书店和上 海译文的很多新书的装帧都出自其手。后来我特意翻了一下，不完全发现我竟然有几十种书就是由他设计的。包括有三联的“董桥自选集”、“文化生活丛书”、 “陈寅恪文集”、“钱钟书文集”、《花间十六声》，上海译文的“米兰·昆德拉文集”、“纳博科夫文集”、“杜拉斯文集”等等。

书都是我喜欢的好书。自从我从山鸡变成走地鸡（离凤凰还很远）之后，附庸风雅的恶习越来越严重，有时买书仅仅是为了它的装帧和版式切合我的心意，有些书就算内容喜欢也会因为它恶俗的设计而舍弃掉。套用一句话，看什么书有时也要看缘分和眼缘。

最近学了一点著作权法，知道装帧设计原来也是设计者个人的著作权，并不属于出版社，出版社所拥有的只是书籍的版式设计。

下面贴一些陆智昌设计的部分书籍，看大家是不是也会喜欢。

最后一个西关大少

董桥

暮色晚春的落花凝成一出无声无色的默片，没有剧本，不必排练，只凭一个飞姿，整座抱恙的愁城顿时激起一串凄美的惊梦。高楼上，悠扬的笙歌还在袅袅诉说着殖民时代的离绪，满帘着水映照的却已经是开埠以来最揪心的一场瘟疫。残云过处，那个坠楼人满怀的悲欢都疲累了，轻轻飘散在一块汝窑瓷枕上，像广州南越王墓的那一块，顾不得胭脂的深浅，顾不得别姬的寥落。毕竟是后现代最后一个西关大少，张国荣注定要在薄纱绣帐的一床幽香中永生，留着襟上的酒痕，留着不老的绿鬓，留着一身六朝沧桑的金粉。

依旧江山，无边云树，戏里看不到的是他盘膝坐在厚厚的地毡上，暖暖捧着白雪仙的双手，轻声低唱一阕啼血的粤曲。这一刻，两代人满心是荔枝树上的月色和茉莉花间的倩影，恍恍惚惚一起走回耀华街的花岗石旧路，走进一幢西关大屋的正间，悄悄寻回西壁上居廉画的那对淡彩清供。穿出厅堂穿过天井一地的瓜子皮，清唱辄止，满庭是月季的香气。

不是说他的歌艺曲艺演艺都攀上了传统的颠：比他先走一步的罗文胸襟里肯定涵养着更丰厚的故国烟云。不是说他的旧学旧闻旧情都接得上前辈的香火：一个十里洋场成长的半唐蕃，说甚么也沾不到海棠树下太多的清弦雅韵。不是说他拥的是万贯家业，挥一挥手就可以在荔湾区里堆砌出满园林的旧家风情：旧家里多的是红线女眼梢都懒得扫一扫的俗物。张国荣古典的五官配上玲珑的忧郁，造就的是庸碌红尘中久违的精致：柔美的围巾裹着微烧的娇宠，矜贵的酒杯摇落千载的幽怨。他的举止恒常宣示的更是随着旧时代烟散的纳凉、攀枝、赏荔的闲适，纵然他未必经历过那样的岁月。

荔湾大少茶楼多的是歌坊，二三十年代的富绅巨商和骚人墨客乃至稚嫩的大学生都沉醉在那的粤曲声中：名画家邓芬和名词家谭乔尚用宋词和《西厢》曲句写成《梦觉红楼》给徐柳仙演唱；一代硕儒叶恭绰自撰的粤曲三首莺莺燕燕都传诵。可惜当今的电影里始终看不到前代名士恃才玩世的这一幕，失落的观众只能从张国荣的眼神扑捉几许褪色的孤愤。张爱玲《第一炉香》改编的《浓本多情》之外，幸亏还有李碧华的《胭脂扣香》和《霸王别姬》供养起他的气质和品味。

老广州人爱说‘西关小姐，东山少爷’：西关一带富商巨贾家里多的是粉嫩的小姐，东山仕宦人家少不了的也是倜傥的少爷，标志的尽是清末民初那股流金的贵族文化。文化的贵族最容易滑成斗富的霸族：古今中外精致的贵族文化都靠颓废的元素支撑，华丽于是透沧桑。红遍东西的武打巨星财大气俗，沾的是东山的霸道；漂漂亮亮的贵气明星也不少，少的是那一点颓废的清气。张国荣心存粉黛的灵感、胸怀孽子的孤愤，恰是艺人养命的sensitivity。小思说他捧着白先勇的《树犹如此》躲在角落里一口气读完；董建平说他喜欢水墨画，最后一次在她的画廊买了雕塑家费明杰的《桂花》系列：西关大屋里的桂树还剩几株？

“忙乱”词典里的解释是“事情繁忙而没有秩序”，这是完全从事的角度来说的，从人的角度可以解释成你很忙，以致于头脑很乱，不知从何弄起。

比如我。

为了吃饭，我必须为给我发工资的单位卖力工作。

为了吃到传说中的更好更多的饭，我必须应付“科学社会主义”和“英语”的考试。

为了能更快更方便赶去赴饭局，我必须学会自己开车。

对我而言，前面两项都好办，最后一项比较难。作为一个非典型男人，我从小对机械的东西表现出奇怪的冷漠，除了工作中的电脑和电视。

最近我无意中发现了一个支撑我把这门技术掌握下来的强大理由，那就是当我搞定这门手艺之后，我就可以成为“国子”了，因为按照《周礼》的说法，我“六艺”已齐。

礼：作为一个生活在和谐社会中的人，而且还带了那么多手表，至少我在守时这一点上是符合通常的礼貌的要求的。

乐：毕竟几年来我有一部分钱存入了钱柜，有一些金放在了金矿，歌唱技艺，不说教坊、梨园，再差也达到了勾栏瓦舍的水平。

射：这是无庸置疑的，比如射门，等等。

驭：六缺一，很快就会补上。

书：假假地也写了20多年字了，而且还是语言文学科班出生。

数：无论如何也达到了初一上学期的水平，反正数钱是不会数错的。

想一想在不久的将来我庶几可以逢人就说：LZ六艺已齐，REALLY TOO TMD NB。

一个大四个X！

老六的这篇文章太NB了，不转载过来我觉得于心不忍，如鲠在喉。有心人可细细体察其中的言外之意，欢迎对号入座。

鲜花的命运是相同的，而牛粪的命运却各自不同。

这是列夫·托尔斯泰老师说的。当然，关于这句话，你可能看到更多的是以讹传讹的另一个译本。

最近连续见到一些若干年不见的朋友。其中有两个美女，当年令许多男人垂涎六尺，她们却摆尽冷艳POSE，让对其有想法的男人频频碰壁，让对其没想法却有作媒想法的人也频频碰壁，偏偏她们又有一颗恨嫁的心，于是每次饭局的主题基本都是为她们嫁不出去的命运发愁着急，且徒唤奈何。

这次，时隔几年见到她们——其实是先见到了两个男人，知道我的来历后，提起她们的名字，问你还记得吗？我说记得啊。他们便分别用深藏不露的得意口吻说，她是我太太。

哦天哪。我眼前一黑。

其中一个还已为人母。

哦天哪天哪。瞧瞧眼前这两个男人，那么不闪亮的人格，那么不双馨的德艺……呸！我悲愤难当，责其请喝一顿酒了事。在饭局上，我便提到了托翁的这句话，二人均嘿嘿干笑，表示赞同。

托老师他老人家的意思是说，鲜花的命运只有一种，就是插在牛粪上。而牛粪呢，有的上面插的是鲜花，有的呢，上面只是被摞了另一坨牛粪。

于是有人就产生了终极思考，为什么鲜花总是摆脱不了这种悲惨的宿命呢？

因为所有的男人都是牛粪。道理就这么简单，遗憾的是，越是简单的道理，一些人却要用一辈子来抗拒，试图找到反证，如花美眷似水流年，都被蹉跎到这些寻找非牛粪的无用功上了。

我相信那两个美女就是明白了这个朴素的真理，于是把自己插到牛粪上完事儿。

再过几天，我又要出席一个女孩的婚礼，为其献上一份份子钱，同时鄙视一下那坨牛粪。这两年掏份子钱的频率越来越高，说明那些颗恨嫁的心啊，一粒粒的，逐渐悟透了自己的宿命。但还是有一些老大难女孩，一边抒发着自己那颗恨嫁的心情，一边手捧亦舒的小说，充满消极避男的清高想法，恨不得把自己嫁给自己。这怎么可以？

一个真正的英雌，必须要敢于直面惨淡的人生，敢于正视满眼的牛粪，否则……还是让我搬出前段时间饭桌上的一段话吧。
一个女孩说：“我想出嫁，可是天底下没一个好男人。”

王大娘说：“嗯哼，你要不出嫁，那就出家。”

我说：“讨厌，出家后你会发现，没一个好和尚。”

前天，我终于重启了被我中断一年的伟大的学车计划。万幸的是，我仍然记得离合的位置，不幸的是，虽然在之前我已经想好了油门跟刹车的方位，但最终用到它们的时候，我仍然颠三倒四。

坐公共汽车去教练场的时候，经过197总站，突然感觉很熟悉。脑子里一番搜索之后，我终于弄明白了。大学一年级的时候，我曾经作过这路车准备去五山某个学校找同学，按道理我应该在华工就下车的，那位同学就在那里等我，而我却一直坐到了197的总站。最后的情况是，我在走遍整个华农和半个华工，双脚已经受不了之后选择了打的去这所学校，刚刚好赶得上吃晚饭。

关于搭错车，我还有另一个经历。也是在大一的时候去广外找一位同学。事先这位猪头同学说坐往白云山方向的车就可以，此事离谱的程度可想而知，白云山那么大那么多个门，也只有我这样的猪头才会在当时不继续追问更详细的情况。后来我上了一路标有“白云路”的车，当时我想当然地认为白云路就在白云山边。而最终我连白云路都没有达到，而是去了西村，因为我连方向都坐错了。于是，当天探访朋友的计划只能搁浅。第二次他终于弄清楚了情况，跟我说可以到珠江泳场坐36路。这次是顺利地到达目的地了，可是到珠江泳场我是骑自行车去的，并把自行车停在了那里，晚上回来的时候可想而知，自行车不见了，这也拉开了我在大学时候每年平均丢一部自行车的愚蠢行为的序幕。

而事实上，我是到了大学二年级下学期的时候，才在万福路以又一次坐错方向的代价顿悟到广州公交车的行走路向。

这些事表达的一个中心思想就是，我有时似乎很聪明，有时又似乎很愚蠢。

突然有个宏伟、迷人、疯狂的想法。

如果这个世界不毁灭，互联网不完蛋，我的脑袋不生锈，也不会穷到没电脑交不起上网费，我就在博客上不停地写啊写，每天记点鸡毛蒜皮瞎扯淡，直到终老。但我就要死去的时候，我一页页打开来看：哦，我的人生就是这样过来的。

从理论上讲，我会跟老婆整出一个儿子，或者一个女儿，或者一对儿子，或者一对女儿，又或者同时有一个儿子一个女儿，再或者……总之，他/她（们）都是我的孩子。如果他们都认字，会上网，对他们的父亲又有点感兴趣，他们就会来看我的博客，我也省去了言传身教去教育他们的力气，也可以不用喋喋不休像现在很多父母跟他们儿女所说的那样：想当年，我们如何如何，而现在，你们又如何如何。

以此类推，以后传记作家这个职业会不会消失呢？反正多数人都自己记录了自己活生生雄赳赳的一生。

这是多么美妙又奇怪的一件事啊。

今日大雪