大河

多年后想起这部电影，记忆中还是停在河面上划出的那一道道渔线，阳光下闪着明亮而不刺眼的光，柔和地舞动。

一条穿越家乡的河，就是一条穿越生命的河。生命离开，消逝，传承。唯有河水生生不息。

这大概就是自然的魅力。而一些人就是为了和自然融为一体而生的。他们被动地和社会的条条框框抗衡，步履踉跄，却内心充盈。于是忠于自己地活，随时都可以死去。

都说一个人要为自己四十以后的相貌负责。redford的那张布满皱纹的脸掩藏不住内心的温暖和平和。必须承认，我深深被他的这部电影打动，细细咀嚼了很多年后仍然觉得很有味道。

一些外表朴实的东西实在难掩内在的华丽。

影片中的一句话，这次重看有感触：那些最需要帮助的人往往拒绝别人的帮助。
然而在现实中，有谁可以真正走进另一个人的内心从而真正帮到他呢？答案永远都是否定的。能帮助自己的永远只有自己。很多人不是不想帮自己，而是没有意识到目前的生活状态有什么偏差。无可厚非。如果每个人在自己生活的状态中感到幸福，就该坚持下去。这与其他人无关。也不该被所谓的拯救打扰。

随着年龄的推移，每次重看一些电影都会有很多不同的感受。我习惯了用文字表达自己，却总觉得还有很多感受游走于文字之外。

拍的真稳，整个片子都有一种大气但是不招摇的稳重感。故事不大，却像大河般的沉稳厚重，刻画出了兄弟俩对生活 对生命的态度。喜欢蒙大拿的风光镜头和配乐，自然却有力量，和父亲开篇的那段石头与宗教的叙述特别吻合。飞钓的镜头和收音看的也是舒坦。最后的点题之句，你可以完全的爱一个你不了解的人，应该是对爱的一个美好定义了。称赞一下嫩的出水的皮特，几场戏的小表情眼神，简直不能更棒了。尤其是最后的钓鱼，那个举着大鱼的少年让多少人怀念啊。

Robert Redford的电影《大河恋》跟我猜想的完全不一样。

这个设置在二十年代美国蒙大拿州小镇米苏拉的故事背景十分宏大，有白人对印第安人的种族歧视，有资本家对矿工的欺压剥削，有成长、归去与乡愁，但Redford对这些“大”似乎都不在意，镜头的聚焦处只在生活小节上，比如父亲教兄弟俩诺曼和保罗飞钓（fly fishing），两兄弟长大后怎么借船飞渡激流，怎么一同出行钓鱼，生活在一个夏天里怎么发生着一些难以察觉的细小变化。在这样的设置下，影片几乎是采取了一种“反高潮”的叙事手法，所有的“大事件”，比如诺曼的六年东部大学生活，比如保罗因执意报道而遭遇麻烦，保罗进入龙蛇混杂的小酒馆“露露”后究竟发生了什么等，全被若隐若现地一笔带过；全片着以最多笔墨细节描述的则是牧师父亲与诺曼和保罗一同到河中飞钓鳟鱼的情景，保罗怎么向诺曼借饵，怎么发现了溪流石穴中的大鱼，怎么紧抓钓线任河水冲刷侵袭，怎么才从几乎没顶的溪水中冒出头来，手擎大鱼笑容灿烂。这样的“反高潮”彻底打破了观众的习惯期待，在总觉得该有什么事情发生的时候偏偏一切如常，而真有什么发生了却只是事后的尾巴，不事渲染，嘎然而止。

为什么要这样安排？难道Redford，或者原著作者诺曼∙麦克林（Norman Maclean）想通过父子生活表达的是细节之美，亲情之重？

显然没这么简单。最善于表现情节之外影像细节之美的阿根廷导演卡洛斯曾经说过“要传达信息，该去的是邮局，而非影院”。如果一部充满细节的电影可以归纳总结为一句话，一个道理，那要么是作者的失职，要么便是观众的误解。

既然如此，那就抛开给电影总结陈词的心态，回归《大河恋》中贯穿全片的溪中飞钓，看看牧师父亲是怎么教两兄弟钓鱼技术的吧。一是节奏，每次抬手、甩线都要连贯，四拍收放，有条不紊一气呵成；再是角度，挥、停、投、拉、拽，钓线要舒展、回卷，在水面形成一个完美的环；三是力度，不同的飞蝇不同的铅锤要把握不同的力气，紧中有松，举重若轻；四是距离，线走的远近深浅顺流逆流，是贴水平飞还是高舞回旋，样样都是技术。除了勤于练习，还要一腔对山水河川的热情，将心神融入自然，将情感交付指端。这一切做到完美，那便是艺术。

作为回忆者的诺曼亲眼见证了弟弟保罗的高超飞钓技术，见证了他的成长与叛逆，也见证了他的沉沦与沉迷。是的，俊美的保罗就是人间的金色艺术品，而作为他手足血脉的诺曼，却从未能真正理解那艺术背后的幽然暗影。

直到父亲跟诺曼说：“在我们生命中，有那样一些人，无论我们与他们有多亲近，无论我们对他们有多关切，我们仍旧无能为力。可是后来，我开始明白，无论我们对他们有多么地不了解，我们至少还可以爱他们。”

这爱，是亲情，但又不只是亲情。父亲是米苏拉镇基督教长老宗教会的牧师，他的爱，看得更高、更远。


去年春末我去旧金山湾以北一小时车程的小镇Petaluma参观镇中心那些经历了1906年旧金山大地震依然幸存下来的维多利亚式建筑。Petaluma在十九世纪中叶加州淘金潮时作为农产品和原木的河运枢纽之一得以发展，如今有六万人口，以农副加工和养鸡业著称。行程的第一站是第五街上的公理会教堂。小教堂不大，午后两点正是懒洋洋的好时光，我想进去看看阳光沁透的彩色玻璃窗效果，推了半天侧面的小门，没开。正待转身离开，教堂大门开了，出来位牛仔T恤戴眼镜的瘦高个，看上去三十出头，面容和蔼，像个工作人员。他招招手，把我们让进教堂，略微攀谈几句，发现他就是负责的神父。我们聊小镇的历史，扯扯老房子，钟楼，后来不知怎的讲到了信仰。他说自己常与上帝对话，我不信，揶揄他表演给我看。我是开玩笑的，但他很认真，让我面对站好，手心向下平放在他手掌之上，闭眼，聆听“上帝的信息”。

我期待奇迹出现，但当然，什么也没听到。这不奇怪，奇怪的是神父完全没被我那副“你看吧”的神情击退，从容不减，笑容依旧。“感受迟钝没关系，”他那眼神分明在说，“我换个方法示范。”他问我是否喜欢散步，喜欢旅行，我点头。他说：“那你一定看过清泉流经岩石，有阳光照耀的美丽景色了。那水流，就是上帝的声音。”


我一直没搞明白为什么那位神父口中的水流便是上帝之音。《大河恋》中老迈的牧师父亲最后一次主持弥撒，头顶上方木梁上赫然镌刻的是“神既是爱”（God is Love）。电影的结尾，年老的诺曼独自在宽阔的河水中飞钓，Robert Redford本人的独白缓缓响起：

“如同西蒙大拿的许多钓者一样，当夏天如同极昼一样长时，我常等到傍晚降临才开始飞钓。之后在山谷半明的天光中，我的灵魂与记忆、‘大黑脚’河水的声响、四拍的节奏以及期待有鱼上钩的热望，那所有的一切全都化为一种存在。最终，一切汇聚一体，河水冲刷而过。这河曾被世上最宏大的洪水侵袭，它曾从时间底部的岩上流过。有些岩石上积存着永恒的雨滴，而岩石之下细语微存，有些言语便是它们的。我迷恋这水。”（Like many fly fishermen in western Montana where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise. Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.）

这一段独白，是《大河恋》的作者诺曼∙麦克林自传式的故事收尾发自心声的慨叹。罗杰∙埃伯特（Rodger Ebert）在影评的结尾说麦克林神父有关理解与爱的话语是人生在不可抗命运面前所表现出的果敢、刚强、优雅与坦承，而电影的最佳成就便是充满情感的传达出了这一观念。但我却不这样认为。我不觉得神父的话便是故事或电影的终结，在平实、纯粹、温柔却又刚强这些过去的品质中还蕴含了一些更为隐秘的真理，在河水洗刷出的那些人性最美好的闪光中还透露出另一层迷恋与喜悦的光辉。我想那才是为什么诺曼终生迷恋河川飞钓，为什么河水在他的眼中流过永恒，将历史、亲情、过去、未来、痛、惑、爱全部融为一体，剥离出我们人类唯一可坚守的信仰。

于是，我也终于第一次，终于懂得了时间的水流挟裹的是什么样的真相，为什么上帝存在于水流、清风、云朵、雨滴之中，为什么爱，超越理解之上的信与爱，才是人唯一可选择的向神之路。爱表面金色的艺术之光，也爱背后幽暗的无理、自私和伤口。从时间的起始到宇宙的消亡，如果人类需要神，那神就存在，神即是爱。

God is Love.

整体来说是个不错的文艺片，但是文艺性太浓了，在故事上就略显不足。从影片开始的几个镜头就能看出导演是想走抒情风，湍急的河水、雾绕山林、一双苍老的手在系着渔线，观众随着旁白叙述被带入主人公和保罗童年的回忆。他们的成长伴随着米苏拉和大河，父亲教他们钓鱼，在河流与渔线投掷的律动中，生命，宗教和艺术合并为一。

代表了“很多年之后”的表现手法是一堆泛黄的照片ppt，既巧妙又偷懒。镜头再转时诺曼和保罗已经是少年，冲浪打架展现出了少年意气和两兄弟不同的性格，然后又是时光流逝，诺曼考上达特茅斯，给了几个mv似的笼统镜头然后又跳到六年后——说实话我有点受不了这种风格，时间太跳跃了，剪辑也比较碎，让我这种文艺细胞低下的人抓不住重点。导演大概想表现的是一种情怀，把电影画面换成抒情散文一点也不会违和。

六年后诺曼从大学回来，他与弟弟的人生已经截然不同，诺曼成熟稳重爱学习，有望接父亲的班，保罗已经是个出色的钓手，性子自由不羁，喜欢美酒女人和赌博，对生活有种今朝有酒今朝醉的漫不经心，欠了一屁股债也不在乎。这个角色我倒非常喜欢，皮特年轻时真是又帅又有灵气，完全演出了保罗的飞扬洒脱，少年感十足，眼睛里面有光，最后一幕拿着大鱼冲相机傻笑的时候丝毫没有表演痕迹（但他说话吞字，我看的英文版不知是不是原音）。相比之下诺曼就逊色很多，他的角色定义除了当主人公外是啥我就没搞懂，感觉对事情永远不咸不淡的，要说长兄如父有责任心，为什么不从一开始知道弟弟好赌欠债时就劝他回头？片里诺曼每提起这个话题都是欲言又止，保罗拒绝了也就顺着他不说了，正常人都知道赌博是无底洞，当哥哥的难道不该多花点心思阻止吗？再不成至少得告诉家里人一起想办法啊，可他俩的爹妈好像直到保罗死都不知情，保罗性子固执拦不住是一回事，拦都不试着拦就是家人的失职了，不懂诺曼怎么想的。还有他和父母的相处模式也忒客气，尤其是从学校回来与父亲谈话那段，像是在面试，很奇怪。

诺曼和杰西的感情线也很莫名，既浪费了片长却又没怎么铺开，反而大半浪费在他那个废物大舅哥身上了，是想通过杰西兄妹提前点明“无论家人怎样我都爱”的主题精神？反正直到诺曼求婚我都不敢确定杰西是不是爱诺曼，她之前还差点为了她哥跟诺曼翻脸，那句“诺曼有趣／没趣”我也没听懂。保罗跟印第安女人的感情我倒能get到，性与荷尔蒙加上异域风情的吸引力，虽然低俗但比诺曼杰西那对磨磨叽叽的好多了。

最后父子三人钓鱼的一幕很感动，保罗的死没正面拍出来虽然有点无趣，但是作为表现手法能理解，要拍出来就俗了。只是这家人的喜怒哀乐都好淡定啊，儿子死了——还是这么惨的死法——不说哭天抢地好歹也掉几滴眼泪意思一下，总好过在那干坐着。结尾平淡中带着唏嘘，诺曼带着妻儿聆听父亲的讲座，不久后父亲过世，一语带过，多年后年近古稀的诺曼重归故里，像以前一样在河边放线钓鱼，山还是那山，水还是那水，但身边的故人都已经不在了，物是人非事事休。片子说真的没多精彩，胜在意境和情怀，抛开这些就是一普通的摄影不错的半纪录片，主人公的生平算不上有多跌宕起伏，保罗虽然快意随心，却逃不过烟花易冷。人生多歧路，同来不同归，到最后留下的也只有那一条大河，逝水东流不复回。

影片中出现的：

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home
Nothing can bring back the hour
Norman begins reciting some of the same lines by memory, and he and his father trade lines back and forth...

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
And they complete the last line in unison...
                     


                                --- William Wordsworth
"Ode：Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood".


全篇：

Ode
Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
   
THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
    The earth, and every common sight,
            To me did seem
    Apparell'd in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream. 5
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
        Turn wheresoe'er I may,
            By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
  
        The rainbow comes and goes, 10
        And lovely is the rose;
        The moon doth with delight
    Look round her when the heavens are bare;
        Waters on a starry night
        Are beautiful and fair; 15
    The sunshine is a glorious birth;
    But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth.
  
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
    And while the young lambs bound 20
        As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
        And I again am strong:
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; 25
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng,
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
        And all the earth is gay;
            Land and sea 30
    Give themselves up to jollity,
      And with the heart of May
    Doth every beast keep holiday;—
          Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy 35
    Shepherd-boy!
  
Ye blessèd creatures, I have heard the call
    Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
    My heart is at your festival, 40
      My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all.
        O evil day! if I were sullen
        While Earth herself is adorning,
            This sweet May-morning, 45
        And the children are culling
            On every side,
        In a thousand valleys far and wide,
        Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm:— 50
        I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
        —But there's a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look'd upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
          The pansy at my feet 55
          Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
  
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, 60
        Hath had elsewhere its setting,
          And cometh from afar:
        Not in entire forgetfulness,
        And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come 65
        From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
        Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, 70
        He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
    Must travel, still is Nature's priest,
      And by the vision splendid
      Is on his way attended; 75
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.
  
Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a mother's mind, 80
        And no unworthy aim,
    The homely nurse doth all she can
To make her foster-child, her Inmate Man,
    Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came. 85
  
Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years' darling of a pigmy size!
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses,
With light upon him from his father's eyes! 90
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learnèd art;
    A wedding or a festival,
    A mourning or a funeral; 95
        And this hath now his heart,
    And unto this he frames his song:
        Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
        But it will not be long 100
        Ere this be thrown aside,
        And with new joy and pride
The little actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage'
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, 105
That Life brings with her in her equipage;
        As if his whole vocation
        Were endless imitation.
  
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
        Thy soul's immensity; 110
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,—
        Mighty prophet! Seer blest! 115
        On whom those truths do rest,
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the Day, a master o'er a slave, 120
A presence which is not to be put by;
          To whom the grave
Is but a lonely bed without the sense or sight
        Of day or the warm light,
A place of thought where we in waiting lie; 125
Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? 130
Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight,
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
  
        O joy! that in our embers
        Is something that doth live, 135
        That nature yet remembers
        What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest— 140
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:—
        Not for these I raise
        The song of thanks and praise; 145
    But for those obstinate questionings
    Of sense and outward things,
    Fallings from us, vanishings;
    Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realized, 150
High instincts before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
        But for those first affections,
        Those shadowy recollections,
      Which, be they what they may, 155
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
  Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, 160
            To perish never:
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
            Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy! 165
    Hence in a season of calm weather
        Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
        Which brought us hither,
    Can in a moment travel thither, 170
And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
  
Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
        And let the young lambs bound
        As to the tabor's sound! 175
We in thought will join your throng,
      Ye that pipe and ye that play,
      Ye that through your hearts to-day
      Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright 180
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
    Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
      We will grieve not, rather find
      Strength in what remains behind; 185
      In the primal sympathy
      Which having been must ever be;
      In the soothing thoughts that spring
      Out of human suffering;
      In the faith that looks through death, 190
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
  
And O ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquish'd one delight 195
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
            Is lovely yet; 200
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live, 205
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.


摘自网络。仅作记录。

    这是一部很有些欧洲味道的好莱坞作品，没有出众的情节和大制作，却有着布拉德·皮特的俊朗，罗伯特·雷德福德的演而优则导，优美的背景音乐，以及蒙大拿迷人的风光。
    同样是一个讲述亲情的故事，但不同于皮特主演的另一部同题材也更为著名的《秋日传奇》（Legend of the Fallen）。后者更多地将冲突集中于爱情与亲情矛盾上，前者则主要从性格、人性的分歧中进行对比和剖析。尽管后者更加紧张、激烈、哀婉，更加为人所知，前者却在平淡和沉静中找寻深刻。单以观后的感觉相比，《秋日传奇》让我沉浸于幽怨的苏格兰风笛之中不能自已（至今还在到处找着原声大碟）；《大河恋》则好似在我胸口堵住了一团东西，想说又说不出来。后来我想到了一个字来形容我那种压抑的情绪和感觉，那便是“涩”。

    美丽的蒙大拿，一条大河静静地穿过整个小镇。小镇的牧师有两个孩子，从小在河边长大。哥哥缄默一点，传统而保守；弟弟（皮特饰）更显活泼，自由而叛逆。这种性格差异反映在生活的方方面面上，比如钓鱼，这是他们毕生的共同爱好。哥哥按照父亲所授的一招一式，按部就班，总能钓到不少的鱼；弟弟却总是以自己的想法，另辟蹊径，常常空手而归，直到最后的满载而归。再比如事业上，哥哥读书求学，毕业后被名校聘为教授，所走的每一步都让家中的父母欣慰和放心；弟弟则认为读书无用，很早便进入社会，在当地报社做了一名记者。好在两人都很优秀，而地域的相隔也淡化了这些冲突（哥哥一直在外地上学）。
哥哥大学的毕业让影片的冲突加剧。一方面，哥哥在陷入一场恋爱之后，发现弟弟比自己更能自如地处理生活中的很多事情，类似于感情、游戏、应酬、交往等。另一方面，哥哥对弟弟的一系列有悖于家教和常理的作为忧心忡忡：与有色人种相爱，酗酒，嗜赌……而弟弟最终也果然因赌债被人生生打断了腿，暴尸街头，留给哥哥无限的伤感和怀念。影片便是在哥哥那沧桑的皱纹和沧桑的叙述中开始和结束的，也把一抹淡淡的忧伤留在了我的心头。

    我一直以为，电影作为艺术之所以雅俗共赏、深入人心，就在于人们能够从这些光与影的斑驳、声与像的交错中，找到心灵的契合点，或是一瞬，或是永恒，从而有所感触，乃至震撼。
    而如果本身在成长中就扮演着哥哥或者弟弟的角色——就像我一样，则在观影的同时就更容易深深地陷入那种导演渲染出的哀婉和忧伤之中，难以自拔。

人物很简省，情节很简洁。

美国蒙大拿，一条大河在当地流过，一个虔诚的牧师，他的两个儿子在这里出生、长大、成人。

小时候，河里，父亲教两个儿子钓鱼，大儿子按着程序做，小儿子偷偷地发明了另一套方法。

长大后，大儿子考上了东部一所大学，拿了个博士。小儿子在当地的一所学院上学，然后当了记者，另一方面也成了远近闻名的钓鱼高手。

再后来，大儿子被聘到芝加哥大学教授文学，小儿子滥赌又被人暴打致死。

哥哥对弟弟的评价是弟弟的生活是艺术化的，但现实生活却不能是艺术的。另外，作为文学教授的哥哥也是这个故事的叙述者。

刚巧又看到安德烈·莫罗亚在为《追忆似水年华》写的评论中说到普鲁斯特的“这种隐居有助于把生活转化为艺术。”