---

※ 引述《arsonlolita (小妹)》之銘言：
: 應該是第一手消息
: 無掛等等自刪
: 朱神表示:http://tinyurl.com/c9545pl
: (請不要噓我...我是無辜的)
: 另附臉書...不要噓 小妹不想有XX
: http://www.facebook.com/Geekfirm
不是說要跟雞蛋站同邊？不是很認同村上春樹說的？
怎麼會開始沒在關切呢？
有沒有不當雞蛋，跑去當一堵高牆的八卦？

http://blogs.myoops.org/lucifer.php/2009/02/25/alwaysstandontheeggside

總是和雞蛋站在同一邊：給現在和未來的自己，以及有一天會成為主人的你們。


本人並不是村上春樹迷。

我看村上春樹作品的原因單純只是因為故事好看。


裡面有什麼寓意，他最近有沒有跑步，我都不太在乎。

我上次看他的書好像是羊男，好像超過十年前了。

所以，我當然不知道他今年二月獲得耶路撒冷文學獎。





但我今天才看到他在眾人的反對中親自前往戰火仍酣的加薩演講，那場演講的內容讓
我被感動了。

所以雖然有別人將其翻成了中文，但我還是決定自己來把這篇演講翻成中文。因為這
是我自己真正對一場好演講致敬的方法，那也是別人和別的方法取代不了的。

總是要和弱者站在同一邊，我希望能夠拿這句話勉勵自己，和有一天會成為這世界主
人的你們。

Follow up:

總是和雞蛋站在同一邊

村上春樹於耶路撒冷文學獎





不過，今天，我不準備說謊。我會盡可能的誠實。一年之中只有幾天我不會撒謊，今
天剛好是其中一天。

讓我老實說吧。許多人建議我今天不應該來此接受耶路撒冷文學獎。有些人甚至警告
我，如果我敢來，他們就會杯葛我的作品。







所以我來到此地。我選擇親身參與，而不是退縮逃避。我選擇親眼目睹，而不是蒙蔽
雙眼。我選擇開口說話，而不是沈默不語。

這並不代表我要發表任何政治信息。判斷對錯當然是小說家最重要的責任。

不過，要如何將這樣的判斷傳遞給他人，則是每個作家的選擇。我自己喜歡利用故事
，傾向超現實的故事。因此，我今日才不會在各位面前發表任何直接的政治訊息。






「若要在高聳的堅牆與以卵擊石的雞蛋之間作選擇，我永遠會選擇站在雞蛋那一邊。
」












他說，他在替所有犧牲的人們祈禱，包括戰友，包括敵人。看著他跪在佛壇前的背影
，我似乎可以看見死亡的陰影包圍著他。

我的父親過世時帶走了他的記憶，我永遠沒機會知道一切。但那被死亡包圍的背影留
在我的記憶中。這是我從他身上繼承的少數幾件事物，也是最重要的事物。





這就是我要對各位說的。

我很感謝能夠獲得耶路撒冷文學獎。我很感謝世界各地有那麼多的讀者。我很高興有
機會向各位發表演說。

我很感謝能夠獲得耶路撒冷文學獎。我很感謝世界各地有那麼多的讀者。我很高興有
機會向各位發表演說。

原文在底下（如果有人可以找到這場演講的影片，我會很感謝）

Lucifer

Always on the side of the egg
By Haruki Murakami
Tags: Israel News, Haruki Murakami

I have come to Jerusalem today as a novelist, which is to say as a
professional spinner of lies.

Of course, novelists are not the only ones who tell lies. Politicians do
it, too, as we all know. Diplomats and military men tell their own kinds
of lies on occasion, as do used car salesmen, butchers and builders. The
lies of novelists differ from others, however, in that no one criticizes
the novelist as immoral for telling them. Indeed, the bigger and better
his lies and the more ingeniously he creates them, the more he is likely
to be praised by the public and the critics. Why should that be?

My answer would be this: Namely, that by telling skillful lies - which is
to say, by making up fictions that appear to be true - the novelist can
bring a truth out to a new location and shine a new light on it. In most
cases, it is virtually impossible to grasp a truth in its original form
and depict it accurately. This is why we try to grab its tail by luring
the truth from its hiding place, transferring it to a fictional location,
and replacing it with a fictional form. In order to accomplish this,
however, we first have to clarify where the truth lies within us. This is
an important qualification for making up good lies.

Today, however, I have no intention of lying. I will try to be as honest
as I can. There are a few days in the year when I do not engage in telling
lies, and today happens to be one of them.

So let me tell you the truth. A fair number of people advised me not to
come here to accept the Jerusalem Prize. Some even warned me they would
instigate a boycott of my books if I came.

The reason for this, of course, was the fierce battle that was raging in
Gaza. The UN reported that more than a thousand people had lost their
lives in the blockaded Gaza City, many of them unarmed citizens - children
and old people.

Any number of times after receiving notice of the award, I asked myself
whether traveling to Israel at a time like this and accepting a literary
prize was the proper thing to do, whether this would create the impression
that I supported one side in the conflict, that I endorsed the policies of
a nation that chose to unleash its overwhelming military power. This is an
impression, of course, that I would not wish to give. I do not approve of
any war, and I do not support any nation. Neither, of course, do I wish to
see my books subjected to a boycott.

Finally, however, after careful consideration, I made up my mind to come
here. One reason for my decision was that all too many people advised me
not to do it. Perhaps, like many other novelists, I tend to do the exact
opposite of what I am told. If people are telling me - and especially if
they are warning me - "don't go there," "don't do that," I tend to want to
"go there" and "do that." It's in my nature, you might say, as a novelist.
Novelists are a special breed. They cannot genuinely trust anything they
have not seen with their own eyes or touched with their own hands.

And that is why I am here. I chose to come here rather than stay away. I
chose to see for myself rather than not to see. I chose to speak to you
rather than to say nothing.

This is not to say that I am here to deliver a political message. To make
judgments about right and wrong is one of the novelist's most important
duties, of course.

It is left to each writer, however, to decide upon the form in which he or
she will convey those judgments to others. I myself prefer to transform
them into stories - stories that tend toward the surreal. Which is why I
do not intend to stand before you today delivering a direct political
message.

Please do, however, allow me to deliver one very personal message. It is
something that I always keep in mind while I am writing fiction. I have
never gone so far as to write it on a piece of paper and paste it to the
wall: Rather, it is carved into the wall of my mind, and it goes something
like this:

"Between a high, solid wall and an egg that breaks against it, I will
always stand on the side of the egg."

Yes, no matter how right the wall may be and how wrong the egg, I will
stand with the egg. Someone else will have to decide what is right and
what is wrong; perhaps time or history will decide. If there were a
novelist who, for whatever reason, wrote works standing with the wall, of
what value would such works be?

What is the meaning of this metaphor? In some cases, it is all too simple
and clear. Bombers and tanks and rockets and white phosphorus shells are
that high, solid wall. The eggs are the unarmed civilians who are crushed
and burned and shot by them. This is one meaning of the metaphor.

This is not all, though. It carries a deeper meaning. Think of it this
way. Each of us is, more or less, an egg. Each of us is a unique,
irreplaceable soul enclosed in a fragile shell. This is true of me, and it
is true of each of you. And each of us, to a greater or lesser degree, is
confronting a high, solid wall. The wall has a name: It is The System. The
System is supposed to protect us, but sometimes it takes on a life of its
own, and then it begins to kill us and cause us to kill others - coldly,
efficiently, systematically.

I have only one reason to write novels, and that is to bring the dignity
of the individual soul to the surface and shine a light upon it. The
purpose of a story is to sound an alarm, to keep a light trained on The
System in order to prevent it from tangling our souls in its web and
demeaning them. I fully believe it is the novelist's job to keep trying to
clarify the uniqueness of each individual soul by writing stories -
stories of life and death, stories of love, stories that make people cry
and quake with fear and shake with laughter. This is why we go on, day
after day, concocting fictions with utter seriousness.

My father died last year at the age of 90. He was a retired teacher and a
part-time Buddhist priest. When he was in graduate school, he was drafted
into the army and sent to fight in China. As a child born after the war, I
used to see him every morning before breakfast offering up long,
deeply-felt prayers at the Buddhist altar in our house. One time I asked
him why he did this, and he told me he was praying for the people who had
died in the war.

He was praying for all the people who died, he said, both ally and enemy
alike. Staring at his back as he knelt at the altar, I seemed to feel the
shadow of death hovering around him.

My father died, and with him he took his memories, memories that I can
never know. But the presence of death that lurked about him remains in my
own memory. It is one of the few things I carry on from him, and one of
the most important.

I have only one thing I hope to convey to you today. We are all human
beings, individuals transcending nationality and race and religion,
fragile eggs faced with a solid wall called The System. To all
appearances, we have no hope of winning. The wall is too high, too strong
- and too cold. If we have any hope of victory at all, it will have to
come from our believing in the utter uniqueness and irreplaceability of
our own and others' souls and from the warmth we gain by joining souls
together.

Take a moment to think about this. Each of us possesses a tangible, living
soul. The System has no such thing. We must not allow The System to
exploit us. We must not allow The System to take on a life of its own. The
System did not make us: We made The System.

That is all I have to say to you.

I am grateful to have been awarded the Jerusalem Prize. I am grateful that
my books are being read by people in many parts of the world. And I am
glad to have had the opportunity to speak to you here today.

--
--
※ 發信站: 批踢踢實業坊(ptt.cc)
◆ From: 114.38.115.212
原來鄉民成功霸凌了台灣的電視台
史上首次呀，各位！！Q__Q

※ 編輯: ericbird        來自: 114.38.115.212       (07/31 23:20)

--