【正文】 1 Unit 1 When we are writing we are often told to keep our readers in mind, to shape what we say to fit their tastes and interests. But there is one reader in particular who should not be fotten. Can you guess who? Russell Baker surprised himself and everyone else when he discovered the answer. 我們寫作時常常被告誡，腦子里要有讀者，筆者所云一定要符合讀者的口味和興趣。但有一位讀者特別不該忘記。你能猜出是誰嗎？當拉塞爾貝克找到這個問題的答案時，他自己和別人都感到大為驚訝。 Writing for Myself Russell Baker 1 The idea of being a writer had e to me off and on since my childhood in Belleville, but it wasn39。t until my third year in high school that the possibility took hold. Until then I39。ve been bored by everything associated with English courses. I found English grammar dull and difficult. I hated the assignments to turn out long, lifeless paragraphs that were agony for teachers to read and for me to write. 為自己而寫 拉塞爾貝克 從孩提時代，我還住在貝爾維爾時，我的腦子里就斷斷續(xù)續(xù)地轉著當作家的念頭，但直等到我高中三年級，這一想法才有了實現(xiàn)的可能。在這之前，我對所有跟英文課沾邊的事都感到膩味。我覺得英文語法枯燥難懂。我痛恨那些長而乏味的段落寫作，老師讀著受累，我寫著痛苦。 2 When our class was assigned to Mr. Fleagle for thirdyear English I anticipated another cheerless year in that most tedious of subjects. Mr. Fleagle had a reputation among students for dullness and inability to inspire. He was said to be very formal, rigid and hopelessly out of date. To me he looked to be sixty or seventy and excessively prim. He wore primly severe eyeglasses, his wavy hair was primly cut and primly bed. He wore prim suits with neckties set primly against the collar buttons of his white shirts. He had a primly pointed jaw, a primly straight nose, and a prim manner of speaking that was so correct, so gentlemanly, that he seemed a ic antique. 弗利格爾先生接我們的高三英文課時，我就準備著在這門最最單調乏味的課上再熬上沉悶的一年。弗利格爾先生在學生中以其說話干巴和激勵學生無術而出名。據說他拘謹刻板，完全落后于時代。我看他有六七十歲了，古板之極。他戴著古板的毫無裝飾的眼鏡，微微卷曲的頭發(fā)剪得筆齊，梳得紋絲不亂。他身穿古板的套裝，領帶端端正正地頂著白襯衣的領扣。他長著古板的尖下巴，古板的直鼻梁，說起話來一本正經，字斟句酌，彬彬 有禮，活脫脫一個滑稽的老古董。 3 I prepared for an unfruitful year with Mr. Fleagle and for a long time was not disappointed. Late in the year we tackled the informal essay. Mr. Fleagle distributed a homework sheet offering us a choice of topics. None was quite so simpleminded as What I Did on My Summer Vacation, but most seemed to be almost as dull. I took the list home and did nothing until the night before the essay was due. Lying on the sofa, I finally faced up to the unwele task, took the list out of my notebook, and scanned it. The topic on which my eye stopped was The Art of Eating Spaghetti. 我作好準備，打算在弗利格爾先生的班上一無所獲地混上一年，不少日子過去了，還真不出所料。后半學期我們學寫隨筆小品文。弗利格爾先生發(fā)下一張家庭作業(yè)紙，出了不少題目供我們選擇。像 暑假二三事 那樣傻乎乎的題目倒是一個也沒有，但絕大多數一樣乏味。我把作文題帶回家，一直沒寫，直到要交作業(yè)的前一天晚上。我躺在沙發(fā)上，最終不得不面 2 對這一討厭的功課，便從筆記本里抽出作文題目單粗粗一看。我的目光落在 吃意大利細面條的藝術 這個題目上。 4 This title produced an extraordinary sequence of mental images. Vivid memories came flooding back of a night in Belleville when all of us were seated around the supper table ─ Uncle Allen, my mother, Uncle Charlie, Doris, Uncle Hal ─ and Aunt Pat served spaghetti for supper. Spaghetti was still a little known foreign dish in those days. Neither Doris nor I had ever eaten spaghetti, and none of the adults had enough experience to be good at it. All the good humor of Uncle Allen39。s house reawoke in my mind as I recalled the laughing arguments we had that night about the socially respectable method for moving spaghetti from plate to mouth. 這個題目在我腦海里喚起了一連串不同尋常的圖像。貝爾維爾之夜的清晰的回憶如潮水一般涌來，當時，我們大家一起圍坐在晚餐桌旁 ── 艾倫舅舅、我母親、查理舅舅、多麗絲、哈爾舅舅 ── 帕特舅媽晚飯做的是意大利細面條。那時意大利細面條還是很少聽說的異國食品。多麗絲和我都還從來沒吃過，在座的大人也是經驗不足，沒有一個吃起來得心應手的。艾倫舅舅家詼諧有趣的場景全都重現(xiàn)在我的腦海中，我回想起來，當晚我們笑作一團，爭論著該如何地把面條從盤子上送到嘴里才算合乎禮儀。 5 Suddenly I wanted to write about that, about the warmth and good feeling of it, but I wanted to put it down simply for my own joy, not for Mr. Fleagle. It was a moment I wanted to recapture and hold for myself. I wanted to relive the pleasure of that evening. To write it as I wanted, however, would violate all the rules of formal position I39。d learned in school, and Mr. Fleagle would surely give it a failing grade. Never mind. I would write something else for Mr. Fleagle after I had written this thing for myself. 突然我就想描述那一切，描述當時那種溫馨美好的氣氛，但我把它寫下來僅僅是想自得其樂，而不是為弗利格爾先生而寫。那是我想重新捕捉并珍藏在心中的一個時刻。我想重溫那個夜晚的愉快。然而，照我希望的那樣去寫，就會違反我在學校里學的正式作文的種種法則，弗利格爾先生也肯定會打它一個不及格。沒關系。等我為自己寫好了之后，我可以再為弗利格爾先生寫點什么別的東西。 6 When I finished it the night was half gone and there was no time left to pose a proper, respectable essay for Mr. Fleagle. There was no choice next morning but to turn in my tale of the Belleville supper. Two days passed before Mr. Fleagle returned the graded papers, and he returned everyone39。s but mine. I was preparing myself for a mand to report to Mr. Fleagle immediately after school for discipline when I saw him lift my paper from his desk and knock for the class39。s attention. 等我寫完時已是半夜時分，再沒時間為弗利格爾先生寫一篇循規(guī)蹈矩、像模像樣的文章了。第二天上午，我別無選擇，只好把我為自己而寫的貝爾維爾晚餐的故事交了上去。兩天后弗利格爾先生發(fā)還批改過的作文，他把別人的都發(fā)了，就是沒有我的。我正準備著遵命一放學就去弗利格爾先生那兒挨訓，卻看見他從桌上拿起我的作文，敲了敲桌子讓大家注意聽。 7 Now, boys, he said. I want to read you an essay. This is titled, 39。The Art of Eating Spaghetti.39。 好了，孩子們， 他說。 我要給你們念一篇小品文。文章的題目是：吃意大利細面條的藝術。 3 8 And he started to read. My words! He was reading my words out loud to the entire class. What39。s more, the entire class was listening. Listening attentively. Then somebody laughed, then the entire class was laughing, and not in contempt and ridicule, but with openhearted enjoyment. Even Mr. Fleagle stopped two or three times to hold back a small prim smile. 于是他開始念了。是我寫的！他給全班大聲念我寫的文章。更不可思議的是，全班同學都在聽著他念，而且聽得很專心。有人笑出聲來，接著全班都笑了， 不是輕蔑嘲弄，而是樂乎乎地開懷大笑。就連弗利格爾先生也停頓了兩三次，好抑制他那一絲拘謹的微笑。 9 I did my best to avoid showing pleasure, but what I was feeling was pure delight at this demonstration that my words had the power to make people laugh. In the e