三人游 Talk.03 Trio Journey Talk.03 第 01 篇 Section 01
1、当代文学史课上的“真敢讲” Contemporary Literary History Class: "He Really Dares to Speak Out"
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这学期，我在上中国当代文学史。老师划分文学史阶段的方式相当大胆：他把八十年代文学的结束点定在八九年，又认为进入新世纪以后，文学环境分别在二〇〇八年奥运会和二〇一二年十八大前后出现了新的变化，变得愈发复杂。
This semester, I am taking a course in the history of contemporary Chinese literature. The professor’s periodization of literary history is remarkably audacious: he pegs the conclusion of 1980s literature squarely at 1989, and posits that upon entering the new millennium, the literary climate underwent pivotal mutations around the 2008 Beijing Olympics and the 18th National Congress in 2012, growing increasingly convoluted.
课程安排本身也颇能说明他的态度：一九四九至一九六六年只讲一课，以《青春之歌》为例；一九六七至一九七八年也只讲一课，讲《沙家浜》；一九七九至二〇〇〇年却安排了整整八课。他半开玩笑地说，改革开放以前的文学，自己“不敢多讲”。
The syllabus itself speaks volumes about his stance: 1949 to 1966 is allocated merely a single lecture, taking The Song of Youth as an exemplar; 1967 to 1978 also receives just one session, covering the revolutionary opera Shajiabang; yet from 1979 to 2000, he scheduled eight full lectures. He half-jokingly quipped that regarding literature prior to the Reform and Opening-up, he “dares not say too much.”
真正让我觉得他“真敢讲”的，是他谈及不同代际的政治感受时说：
What truly convinced me that he “really dares to speak out” was his observation on intergenerational political sensibilities:
“我是八九十年代过来的。现在看你们被教化了十几年，感觉你们爱国爱到有点吓人了。”
“现在互联网上到处都是‘战狼’思想，张口闭口就是‘美帝亡我之心不死’。可八九十年代不是这样，那时候大家敞开胸怀，接纳一切外来文化。”
“I lived through the eighties and nineties. Seeing how you’ve been conditioned over the past decade and a half, your brand of patriotism strikes me as frankly terrifying.”
“Today the internet is saturated with ‘Wolf Warrior’ jingoism, chanting slogans like ‘American imperialism will never cease its plotting against us.’ But it wasn’t like that in the eighties and nineties. Back then, people opened their arms wide, embracing foreign cultures without hesitation.”
我一边听，一边忍不住感叹：这个老师确实什么都敢讲。
Listening to him, I couldn’t help but marvel: this professor truly dares to voice anything.
文学进入市场以后 When Literature Entered the Market
那节课上，老师谈到文学与市场化的关系。他认为，文学原本属于精英文化的一部分；然而，市场化带来了后现代社会的文化逻辑，一切文化都逐渐被商品化。面对这种变化，精英文化只有两条路：要么退守象牙塔，要么进入大众文化，在市场中重新寻找自己的位置。他以新写实主义作家方方和新现实主义作家贾平凹为例，讨论文学如何在世俗化、商业化的环境中改变自身。听到这里，我忽然觉得，如今人们评价事物的标准似乎越来越容易被简化为商品价值。K-pop 也是如此。
In that lecture, the professor touched upon the nexus between literature and marketization. He posited that literature originally belonged to elite culture; however, marketization ushered in the cultural logic of postmodernity, steadily commodifying every facet of culture. Confronted with this paradigm shift, elite culture faces only two divergent paths: either retreat into an ivory tower, or plunge into mass culture to reposition itself within the marketplace. Citing neo-realist novelist Fang Fang and neo-realist writer Jia Pingwa, he examined how literature reshapes itself within a secularized, commercialized habitat. Hearing this, it suddenly struck me how modern evaluative criteria have become overwhelmingly reduced to mere commercial utility. The same holds true for K-pop.
人们关心的不再只是歌好不好听，而是销量、排名、代言，以及团体创造商业价值的能力。甚至每月发布的商业价值榜，都可能比作品本身获得更多关注。
People no longer care merely whether a track sounds captivating; their fixations gravitate toward album sales, streaming charts, brand endorsements, and an idol group’s capacity to churn out capital. Even the monthly commercial influence rankings garner vastly more scrutiny than the musical craft itself.
我把课堂上的想法发给红。红看到“方方”两个字，立刻警觉起来。“方方？”她问，“老师还在捧方方吗？”
I texted these in-class reflections to Hong. The moment Hong saw the name “Fang Fang,” her radar flared. “Fang Fang?” she asked. “Is the professor still singing Fang Fang’s praises?”
我说，老师主要谈的是“日记”引发的争议。他不理解，为什么一个作家写日记，会被指责为“给境外势力递刀子”。在老师看来，方方的写作之所以招致如此激烈的反应，是因为它触动了一些人的利益。
I replied that the professor was mainly addressing the controversy sparked by her “diary”. He couldn’t fathom why a writer keeping a diary was castigated for “handing knives to foreign adversaries.” In the professor’s eyes, the ferocious backlash against Fang Fang’s writing arose because it stepped on entrenched toes.
红并不同意。她认为，方方同样可能是在为自己的利益写作；所谓“触动利益”，不能天然证明写作者正确。她还质疑作品在海外迅速出版的动机，认为其中存在迎合境外市场、夸张乃至歪曲事实的可能。这些判断我无法确认。我真正感兴趣的仍是老师提出的商品化问题。
Hong disagreed. She contended that Fang Fang might just as well have been writing out of self-interest; touching upon sensitive nerves does not automatically grant a writer moral righteousness. She further questioned the motives behind the book’s swift overseas publication, suspecting it pandered to foreign markets through exaggeration or even distortion of facts. I had no means of verifying these verdicts. My genuine interest remained anchored in the commodification dilemma raised by the professor.
红则提醒我：文学如果完全脱离商品交换，作家很难维持生计。文学也从来不只属于少数知识精英，它本就同时包含“阳春白雪”和“下里巴人”。如果坚持把文学定义为高高在上的精英文化，反而可能割裂文学与普通人的关系。“我也不觉得一个真正高尚的作家只会追求温饱。”她说，“一个好导演可以拍商业片，但也应当拍包含自己思想的电影，哪怕叫好不叫座。”
Hong countered by reminding me: if literature entirely severed ties with commodity exchange, writers could scarcely put food on the table. Nor has literature ever been the exclusive domain of an intellectual elite; it has always encompassed both “rarefied poetry” and “the folk vernacular.” Insisting on defining literature as lofty, aristocratic culture risks divorcing it from ordinary souls. “Nor do I believe a genuinely noble writer aims merely for subsistence,” she added. “A great director can helm commercial blockbusters, but must also craft films imbued with personal vision—even if they earn critical acclaim without turning a profit.”
文学真的曾经影响整个社会吗 Did Literature Ever Truly Influence Society at Large?
八九十年代，北岛、顾城、余华、刘震云等作家，似乎都曾经对社会价值观产生过很大影响。今天当然仍然有好作品，但好作品已经很难像过去那样形成一种公共潮流。文学似乎越来越像圈内人的自我欣赏。于是我问：如果文学不再是时代的中心，那么今天真正塑造社会潮流的东西究竟是什么？
During the 1980s and 1990s, writers such as Bei Dao, Gu Cheng, Yu Hua, and Liu Zhenyun seemed to exert an immense gravitational pull on societal values. Exceptional works undoubtedly still emerge today, yet they rarely coalesce into pervasive cultural zeitgeists as they once did. Literature increasingly resembles insular self-applause among initiates. Thus I asked: if literature no longer occupies the epochal center stage, what forces truly sculpt social trends today?
红却怀疑，我可能夸大了八九十年代文学的影响力。那时的文盲率仍然不低，大学生人数也远少于今天。文学知识分子之所以觉得文学影响了整个社会，或许只是因为他们身处文学圈，观察到的是自己身边的“统计学”。更重要的是，社会价值观首先来源于社会变革，而不是作家的凭空创造。作家只是捕捉、表现了已经发生的变化。文学起源于生活，但并不意味着文学创造了生活。
Hong, however, suspected that I had romanticized and exaggerated the societal reach of 1980s and 1990s literature. Illiteracy rates back then were still not low, and the college-educated populace was a tiny fraction of what it is today. Intellectuals convinced themselves that literature moved the entire nation perhaps merely because, ensconced in literary circles, they fell prey to the “statistics” of their immediate peer bubble. Crucially, societal values originate primarily from seismic socioeconomic transformations, not from the ex-nihilo inventions of authors. Writers simply capture and articulate mutations already underway. Literature originates from life, but that by no means implies literature creates life.
“有没有可能，”红说，“文学作品的影响力从来没有你想象得那么大？如果从社会上随机挑出一百个人，其中会有几个人对文学有很深的见解？不只是现在如此，八九十年代如此，更早的年代可能也是如此。文学在大部分时候，本来就带有圈子自嗨的性质。”这话很有道理。可如果文学的社会影响本就有限，那么“社会意义”是否应该在文学评价中适当让位？我们是否更应该关注作品本身的文学性？
“Could it be,” Hong remarked, “that the impact of literary works was never as grandiose as you envision? If you plucked a hundred random citizens from the street, how many would possess profound literary insights? That holds true not only today, but also in the eighties, nineties, and eras far earlier. For the most part, literature has inherently functioned as an echo-chamber indulgence.” Her words carried unmistakable weight. Yet if literature’s sociological influence has always been circumscribed, should “social significance” yield its supremacy in literary critique? Ought we not direct our scrutiny toward literariness itself?
样板戏曾经被官方推崇多年，但在失去特定的社会功能以后，许多作品也随之淡出普通人的视野。这是不是说明，依附于现实功用的文学，终究难以只凭“社会意义”获得长久生命？红却说：“文学是为人服务的。没有社会背景的文学是浅薄的。你挑选任何一种艺术形式，它的背后都有社会与文化的背景。你找不到真正与社会无关的文学作品。”
The revolutionary model operas were officially lionized for decades, yet once stripped of their prescribed sociopolitical mandate, many faded entirely from the collective consciousness. Does this not demonstrate that literature tethered purely to utilitarian pragmatism cannot secure enduring vitality on “social relevance” alone? Hong replied: “Literature exists to serve humanity. Literature divorced from social context is shallow. Pick any art form under the sun, and behind it lies a tapestry of social and cultural backdrops. You cannot uncover a single work of literature genuinely divorced from society.”
文学性与社会性 Literariness and Sociality
我们的分歧由此变得清晰。我承认，文学不可能脱离社会；但文学作品总有高下之分。如果评价标准主要是社会意义，文学是否会滑向一种实用主义？一部作品难道必须承担明确的社会功能，才算有价值吗？
Our divergence crystallized here. I concede that literature cannot exist in a vacuum away from society; nonetheless, literary works inevitably exhibit gradations of artistic caliber. If evaluative criteria pivot primarily around social significance, does literature not descend into vulgar utilitarianism? Must a creative work shoulder an unambiguous social function to possess intrinsic value?
红解释说，作家未必是“为了社会意义”而写作，但写作一定以社会经验为起源。社会如同土壤，作家只有先站在这片土壤上，才能开始耕种。我逐渐意识到，我们争论的可能不是“文学要不要社会”，而是社会究竟以何种方式进入文学。
Hong elucidated that while an author may not consciously write “for the sake of social significance,” all writing inevitably germinates from social experience. Society acts as the soil; only by planting their feet in this terrain can a writer begin cultivation. I gradually realized that our debate was not whether “literature needs society,” but rather through what aesthetic avenues society permeates literary craft.
作品说到底仍然是作家的己见。优秀作家之所以能够留下来，或许正是因为他抓住了某个时代的情绪、结构与思想潮流，并把它们转化成具有独特形式的个人表达。社会提供土壤，却不能代替写作本身；社会意义也不能自动生成文学价值。
A literary work remains, fundamentally, an artist’s personal idiom. The reason great authors endure across generations is perhaps that they captured the affective climate, social architecture, and intellectual currents of an epoch, transmuting them into unique, singular forms of subjective expression. Society supplies the soil, but it can never substitute for the act of writing itself; nor can historical relevance spontaneously conjure aesthetic excellence.
与此同时，时代变化得太快，许多老作家仍然受到过去经验的束缚。今天的一些作品反复沿用几十年前的伤痕叙事，张艺谋等创作者也常被批评为二三十年来始终在重复有限的主题。不是那些历史经验已经毫无价值，而是旧有的表达方式未必还能准确触及今天的生活。
Simultaneously, times shift with breakneck velocity, leaving veteran writers shackled by obsolete frames of reference. Some works today repeatedly reuse scar narratives from decades ago; creators such as Zhang Yimou are also often criticized for repeating a limited set of themes for the past twenty or thirty years. It is not that those historical scars have lost all meaning, but rather that tired artistic idioms can no longer touch the live nerve of modern existence.
这也解释了我为什么越来越愿意读西方现代主义文学：其中所描写的某些生活经验，反而让我感到熟悉。作品与读者之间的距离，并不完全取决于国别或年代，而取决于它是否触碰到了读者正在经历的精神现实。
This also clarifies why I find myself increasingly drawn to Western modernist literature: some of the life experiences depicted therein strikes me with an uncanny resonance. The distance separating a book from its reader is not governed by national borders or historical eras, but by whether it pierces the psychological reality the reader is actively inhabiting.
谁能抓住时代的脉搏 Who Can Grasp the Pulse of the Era?
能够在文学史教材中留下名字，已经很了不起。即使一个作家最终只有一两篇作品被记住，那也意味着他曾在某个时刻准确抓住时代思潮，并为它找到了一种足以流传的形式。
To etch one’s name into literary history textbooks is already a monumental feat. Even if an author is remembered for merely one or two pieces, it signifies that at a crucial historical juncture, they faithfully arrested the spirit of the age and forged a form durable enough to outlive their mortal span.
老师在课上讲到，方方的中篇小说《风景》通常被视为新写实主义的重要作品。小说以相对平静的写实方式，呈现底层百姓贫困而琐碎的日常生活，也对过去文学中某些理想化的历史叙述构成了冲击。课程材料还谈到，二十世纪九十年代中后期以后，日常生活审美化推动了文学的世俗化与大众化，却也可能带来新的局限：当写作者过度沉浸于个人琐事和欲望叙事，便可能因为与日常生活贴得太近，而失去观察、反省生活所需要的距离。
In class, the professor noted that Fang Fang’s novella Scenery (Feng Jing) is generally regarded as an important work of Chinese Neo-Realism. Employing a calm, unflinching realism, the narrative portrays the poor and trivial daily lives of people at the bottom of society, challenging the romanticized historical narratives that once held sway. The syllabus also outlined how, from the mid-to-late 1990s onward, the aestheticization of daily life catalyzed literature’s secularization and democratization, while simultaneously erecting new creative traps: when writers become excessively absorbed in petty domestic minutiae and self-indulgent desire, their suffocating proximity to daily trivia strips away the contemplative detachment essential for profound reflection.
这似乎又让问题绕回了原点。文学既不能完全脱离日常生活，也不能只是机械复制日常生活；既不应以精英姿态拒绝大众，也不能让商品价值成为唯一尺度；既产生于社会，又不应仅凭社会功用决定高下。作家必须进入时代，同时又要与时代保持足够的距离，才能看清自己究竟身处何处。
This brings the dilemma full circle. Literature can neither detach itself entirely from mundane life nor merely mimic it with mechanical literalism; it must neither haughtily spurn the public nor submit to market valuation as its supreme metric; it springs from social reality, yet must not be adjudicated solely by utilitarian ends. A writer must immerse themselves into the epoch, while maintaining sufficient aesthetic distance to discern clearly where they truly stand.
争论到最后，红发来一段王小波的话。王小波讽刺中国人文知识分子总想“以天下为己任”，不仅想替普通人设计信仰，还希望自己充当牧师、神学家乃至圣人；然而，老百姓究竟相信什么，并不由知识分子说了算。更要命的是，知识分子自己也同样是普通人。
As our dispute wound down, Hong forwarded a quote from Wang Xiaobo. Wang satirized how Chinese humanities intellectuals perpetually posture with “taking responsibility for the world under heaven,” presuming not only to architect spiritual dogmas for ordinary folk, but casting themselves as pastors, theologians, and moral sages; yet what the common people believe is never dictated by highbrow theorists. Even more fatally, intellectuals themselves are nothing more than mortal beings.
这段话我以前见过，却没有真正留意。此刻重新读到，忽然觉得格外精辟。或许，文学从来没有真正站在社会之外。作家不是俯视众生的圣人，读者也不是等待启蒙的无知群众。文学所能做的，未必是替一个时代规定意义，而是在时代的喧嚣之中，为复杂、矛盾而具体的生活留下证词。
I had encountered this passage before, though without paying it much heed. Re-reading it now, its brilliance hit me afresh. Perhaps literature has never truly hovered detached from society. Writers are not omniscient saints peering down from on high, nor are readers ignorant masses awaiting enlightenment. What literature can achieve is perhaps not prescribing grand meanings for an era, but, amidst the deafening clamor of history, bearing enduring testimony to the complex, contradictory, and textured reality of life.
至于新世纪文学为什么显得式微，现在下结论或许还太早。我们只能从市场化、媒介变迁、文化分层、代际经验和作家自身的局限等角度，逐一接近这个问题。但至少，那堂课和这场争论让我意识到：真正值得讨论的，不是文学究竟应该高居象牙塔，还是彻底投身市场；而是当时代的脉搏不断变化时，文学是否还能听见它，又是否能够创造一种不被时代噪声淹没的声音。
As to why literature in the new century appears to have waned, passing definitive judgment may yet be premature. We can only approach this inquiry from interlocking vantage points: market commercialization, media evolution, cultural stratification, generational divergence, and the intrinsic creative limitations of writers themselves. But at the very least, that lecture and our spirited debate illuminated one truth: the question worth asking is not whether literature should recline within an ivory tower or plunge headlong into the commercial market, but whether, as the pulse of the era shifts, literature can still discern its heartbeat—and craft a timbre that will not be drowned by the ambient noise of the age.