THE LOVER
Part I
ONE DAY, I was already old, in the entrance of a public place a man came up to me. He introduced himlf and said:'I've known you for years. Everyone says you were beautiful when you were young, but I want to tell you I think you're more beautiful now than then. Rather than your face as a young woman, I perfer your face as it is now. Ravaged.'
I often think of the image only I can e now, and of which I've never spoken. It's always there, in the same silence, amazing. It's the only image of mylf I like, the only one in which I recognize mylf, in which I delight.
Very early in my life it was too late. It was already too late when I was eighteen. Between eighteenand twenty-five my face took off in a new direction. I grew old at eighteen. I don't know if it's the same for everyone. I've never asked. But I believe I've heard of the way time can suddenly
accelerate on people when they're going through even the most youthful and highly esteemed stages of life. My ageing was very sudden. I saw it spread overmy features one by one, changing the relationship 神龙政变between them, making the eyes larger, the expression sadder, the mouth more final, leaving great creas in the forehead. But instead of being dismayed I watched this process with the same sort of interest i might have taken in the reading of abook. And I knew I was right, that one day it would slow down and take its normal cour. The people who knew me at venteen, when I went to France, were surprid when they saw me againtwo years later, at nineteen. And I've kept it ever since, the new face I had then. It has been my face. It's got older still, of cour, but less, comparatively, than it would otherwi have done. It's scored with deep, dry wrinkles, the skin is cracked. But my face hasn't collapd, as some with fine features have done. It's kept the same contours, but its substance has been laid waste. I have a face laid waste.
THE LOVER
Part II
So, I'm fifteen and a half. It's on a ferry crossing the Mekong river. The image lasts all the way across. I'm fifteen and a half, there are no asons in that part of the world, we have just one ason, hot, monotonous, we're in the long hot girdle of the earth, with no spring, no renewal.
I'm at a state boarding school in Saigon. I eat and
sleep there, but I go to class at the French high
school. My mother's a teacher and wants her girl
to have a condary education. 'You have to go to
high school.' What was enough for her is not
拖着设计吧enough for her daughter. High school and then a
good degree in mathematics. That was what had
been dinned into me ever since I started school. It
never crosd my mind I might escape the mathe-
matics degree, I was glad to give her that hope.
Every day I saw her planning her own and her
children's future. There came a time when she
平安wificouldn't plan anything very grand for her sons
any more, so she planned other futures, makeshift
ones, but they too rved their purpo, they
blocked in the time that lay ahead. I remember my
younger brother's cours in book-keeping. From
the Universal Correspondence School - every
year, every level. You have to catch up, my mother
ud to say. It would last for three days, never four.
Never. We'd drop the Universal School whenever
my mother was posted to another place. And begin
曲线运动知识点总结again in the next. My mother kept it up for ten
years. It wasn't any good. My younger brother
became an accountant's clerk in Saigon. There was
no technical school in colonies; we owed my
现在科学技术
elder brother's departure for France to that. He
stayed in France for veral years to study at the
风吹雨打的意思
technical school. But he didn't keep it up. My
mother must have known. But she had no choice,
he had to be got away from the other two children.
For veral years he was no longer part of the
family. It was while he was away that my mother
bought the land, the concession. A terrible business,
but for us, the children who were left, not so ter-
rible as the prence of the killer who would have been,
the child-killer of the night, of the night of the
hunter.
The Lover-Duras为你点赞
红色五行属什么The Lover (French title: L'Amant) is an autobiographical novel by Marguerite Duras, published in 1984 by Les Éditions de Minuit. It has been translated to 43 languages. It wa
s awarded the 1984 Prix Goncourt. The Lover is also a 1992 movie bad on this novel, directed by Jean-Jacques Annaud and starring Jane March and Tony Leung Ka Fai. The cast also included Lisa Faulkner. The film was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Cinematography.
Summary of the movie
Set against the backdrop of French colonial Vietnam, The Lover reveals the intimacies and intricacies of a clandestine romance between a pubescent girl (Jane March), from a financially strapped French family and an older, wealthy Chine man (Tony Leung Ka-Fai). The story is narrated by Jeanne Moreau, portraying a writer looking back on her youth. In 1929, a 15 year old nameless girl is traveling by ferry across the Mekong Delta, returning from a holiday at her family home in the village of Sadec, to her boarding school in Saigon. She attracts the attention of a 32 year old son of a Chine business magnate, a young man of wealth and heir to a tidy fortune. He strikes up a conversation with the girl; she accepts a ride back to town in his chauffeured limousine. Compelled by the circu
mstances of her upbringing, this girl, the daughter of a bankrupt, manic-depressive widow, is newly awakened to the impending and all-too-real task of making her way alone in the world. Thus, she becomes his lover, until he bows to the disapproval of his father and breaks off the affair. For her lover, there is no question of the depth and sincerity of his love, but it isn't until much later that the girl acknowledges to herlf her true feelings. Duras' real-life Chine lover was named Lee. The last she heard of him, he became a born again Christian and loved his family very much. He died and was buried in the same city in Vietnam where Duras first met him. Duras was only 15 at the time of her love affair, which is the age of the heroine in the novel.
