Caitlin's Queen of Hearts

   

久未讀書的我發現我閱讀速度變慢了，竟然500多頁的書需要我花五個小時來看耶~真的有點慢~

今天去書店租了《鱷魚的黃眼睛》

我一直都不喜歡鱷魚，總覺得他們很陰險，雖然不知道從哪邊讀來的，鱷魚其實存在的年代與人類久很多，能夠在地球上生活那麼久一定有些不凡之處吧~但看到書名的時候還是感覺到鱷魚在水塘裡頭用他的眼睛偷偷的在看著他的獵物，毛骨悚然~

作者在序中寫道，書名的靈感來源是他在報紙上面讀到了一則悲慘的新聞，關於一個男人被騙到中國去養鱷魚，還一次買了七萬多隻，結果這些鱷魚全都不孕，還常常傷人，導致他破產，連老婆都離開他了。

只留下他一個人，半夜獨自面對用黃色眼睛覬覦他的一群鱷魚們，還真是恐怖的際遇呀~

沒看到作者序之前覺得喬瑟芬跑到肯亞去養鱷魚卻反被鱷魚吃掉的前夫很蠢，看到作者序後才知道，其實這件事情還真的在地球的另一端發生過呀。有點期待這部小說改編成電影呢(雖然我更想看到一個如此卑微的女王)~應該會很精彩吧~

前去死者的國度，將某個已死之人帶回人世，這是一種人心深處的渴望，但也被視為極大的禁忌。但寫作可以帶來某種生命。霍何‧路易斯‧波赫士在九篇但丁式的文章中提出一個有趣的理論：整部神曲，全書的地獄、煉獄與天堂三篇，但丁創作出這整個龐大又精細的架構，主要是為了想再見死去的碧翠絲，想在自己的詩作中讓她死而復生。因為他在寫她，而且只因為他在寫她，碧翠絲才能再度存在，存在於作者與讀者的腦海中。

波赫士說：我們必須記得一個無可辯駁的事實，單單一個卑微的事實：這情景是但丁想像出來的。對我們而言，他非常真實，對他而言並非如此。對他而言，真實的情況是，碧翠絲先是被人生際遇、而後死亡從他身旁帶走，他永遠無法與碧翠絲相聚，孤獨且可能感到羞辱，於是他想像出這番情景，以便想像自己與他同在。

接著波赫士指出她驚鴻一暼的微笑和永遠轉開的臉。這與奧菲爾斯的故事多麼相似，詩人只有自己的詩作可恃，進入死者的國度，越過地獄，到達天堂，找到自己心愛的人，卻又再度失去她，且這一次是永遠的失去。就像是蒂朵從阿伊尼身旁跑開，像是尤芮蒂絲由奧菲爾斯身旁轉開，碧翠絲也從但丁身旁離去。儘管她轉開的臉是面對上帝，儘管她很快樂 ─ 但對他來說，最重要的一點是，他失去了她。卻又再度得回。卻又再度失去。除非我們對很多東西視而不見，才能把神曲天堂篇結局看成皆大歡喜的結局。

仔細想想，其實所有書的皆大歡喜結局都是這樣，湯瑪斯‧沃夫說，你不能再回家了。但當你書寫到關於家的文字，你就多少算是可以回家。但你會走到最後一頁。一本書是另外一個國家，你進入，但最後必須離開，你不能住在那裡，就像你不能住在冥界。

(節錄至 Negotiating with the dead by Margaret Atwood )

記得老師以前講解神曲的時候，提到但丁花了十年的時間才寫完神曲， 這也讓碧翠絲在他心中多活了長達十年，雖然是沉溺在失去中的十年，但最後換回他不朽的名聲與地位，希望但丁他自己覺得值得，那就夠了，雖然我懷疑他當初在寫作的時候這些東西是否有跑進他的腦袋中。

不過，不管波赫士的理論，有時候看著所愛之人得到快樂，那對活著的人來說就是一種幸福...........不是嗎?

Cats believe that all human beings, animals and plants should congregate in a huge heap in the centre of the universe and promptly fall asleep together. 這是加拿大詩人 Gwendolyn MacEwen的詩句。

 這解釋了我們家貓咪目前的瘋狂昏睡狀態，還有他為何總是用勉強睜開的迷濛雙眼望著我…………..

 女詩人寫了一連串關於貓的爆笑詩句，像是Cats never get baptized. They lose their dry，是沒錯啦。

 The only reason cats do not carry passports is because they have no pockets. 不然勒？？他也沒有皮包啦～

 Magic Cats這首詩讓我愛上Gwendolyn MacEwen。

 雖然說我更喜歡她說的另一句名言

 我們是這個時代的重大宣言，因此可以預期，聽眾的數目大概會很小…………..這是我用來安慰自己的話語～藉口藉口～都是藉口呀～

 總之，願他安息，不管是藉口還是瑣事，那都是活著的人要煩的事情了。死者跟貓不受世俗的牽絆呀。

 
Magic Cats

Most cats, with the exception of Burmese, do not celebrate their birthdays. Rather, they are extremely sentimental about Palm Sunday and Labour Day, at which times they survive solely on white lace and baloney sandwiches.

Cats on the whole are loath to discuss God.

Generally speaking, cats have no money, although some of them secretly collect rare and valuable coins.

Cats believe that all human beings, animals and plants should congregate in a huge heap in the centre of the universe and promptly fall asleep together.

Of all the cats I have known, the ones I remember most are: Bumble Bee, Buttonhole, Chocolate Bar, Molten Lava and Mushroom. I also remember Tabby who was sane as a star and spent all his time lying on his back in the sink, thinking up appropriate names for me.

Cats see their Keepers as massive phantoms, givers of names and the excellent gravy of their days.

Cats who have been robbed of balls and claws do not lament. They become their Keeper's keepers.

When cats are hosts to fleas they assume the fleas are guests.

Most cats would rather be covered with live fleas than dead ones.

Cats hold no grudges and have no future. They invade nets of strangers with their eyes.

The patron saint of cats is called: Beast of the Skies, Warm Presence, Eyes.

Cats do not worry about the gurgling horrors of the disease listed in catbooks, some of which are Hairballs Enteritis and Bronchitis. But they do become very upset about Symptoms, which is the worst disease of all.

When cats grow listless (i.e. lose their list) they cease to entertain fleas. They mumble darkly about radishes and death. They listen to Beethoven and become overly involved in Medieval History.

When cats decide to die   they lie alone   lost among leaves beneath the dark winds and broad thunders of the world and pray to the Beast of the Skies, Warm, Presence, Eyes.

Broadly speaking, cats do not read Gothic novels, although they tend to browse through Mary Shelley on the day before Christmas.

The only reason cats do not carry passports is because they have no pockets.

When a black cat crosses your path it usually means that he is trying to get to the other side of the street.

Cats never get baptized. They lose their dry.

Cats only perspire during Lent.

Cats have no memory and no future. They are highly allergic to Prime Ministers, radishes, monks, poets, and death.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart---
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair on my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

 

他們說，讓鉅作成為垃圾最好的方式就是

 

所有的歲月都已變成

一篇虛幻的神話　任它

綠草如茵　花開似錦

也終於都要紛紛落下

在墜落的昏眩裡

有誰能給我一句滿意的解答