I‘m turning 44 next month， and I have the sense that 44 is going to be a very good year， a year of fulfillment， realization。 I have that sense， not because of anything particular in store for me， but because I read it would be a good year in a 1968 book by Norman Mailer。
下個月我就44歲了，並且我覺得44歲將成為美好的一年，充滿著實現和領悟的一年。我有這種感覺，並不是因為什麼特別的事，而是我從諾曼·梅勒在1968年寫的書上看到的。
“He felt his own age， forty-four 。。。” wrote Mailer in “The Armies of the Night，” “。。。 felt as if he were a solid embodiment of bone， muscle， heart， mind， and sentiment to be a man， as if he had arrived。”
“44歲， 他感覺到了歲月無情，” 梅勒在《夜幕下的大軍》中寫到 “感覺到他自己就是骨頭、肌肉、心、意識、情感組成的堅實的化身，就像他已經那個年紀了一樣。”
Yes， I know Mailer wasn’t writing about me。 But I also know that he was； for all of us —— you， me， the subject of his book， age more or less in step， proceed from birth along the same great sequence：through the wonders and confinements of childhood； the emancipations and frustrations of adolescence； the empowerments and millstones of adulthood； the recognitions and resignations of old age。 There are patterns to life， and they are shared。 As Thomas Mann wrote： ”It will happen to me as to them。“
是的，我知道梅勒不是在寫我。但我冥冥中能感受到他其實就在寫我；因為我們所有人：你、我還有他書中的主人公，都在一點點變老，從出生就限定在了恆定的生命規律中了：從孩提時期的好奇和禁錮；到少年時代的不羈和煩惱；再到步入成年的權威和里程碑，最後邁入老年的德高望重。生命有它自己的規律，這是所有人必經的歷程。就如托馬斯·曼所寫：“我將經歷別人所經歷的一切。“
We don‘t simply live these patterns。 We record them， too。 We write them down in books， where they become narratives that we can then read and recognize。 Books tell us who we’ve been， who we are， who we will be， too。 So they have for millennia。 As James Salter wrote， ”Life passes into pages if it passes into anything。“
我們不僅存活在這種規律中，我們還會把它們記錄下來。我們把它寫進書裡，成為了大家都可以讀識的敘事。書籍能幫我們瞭解曾經的我們，當下的我們，和未來的我們。所以書籍已經存在了上千年。正如詹姆斯·索爾特所寫， “如果生命能變成什麼的話，它能變成一本書。”
And so six years ago， a thought leapt to mind： if life passed into pages， there were， somewhere，passages written about every age。 If I could find them， I could assemble them into a narrative。 I could assemble them into a life， a long life， a hundred-year life， the entirety of that same great sequencethrough which the luckiest among us pass。
所以六年之前 一個想法從我腦中閃過： 如果歲月能變成書，那麼在某處，一定有關於每一個年紀的文章存在。如果我能找到它們，我就可以把它們串成一段故事。我可以把它們匯成一輩子，一段長達一百年的生命，這是隻有最幸運的我們才跨越過的生命長度。
I was then 37 years old， ”an age of discretion，“ wrote William Trevor。 I was prone to meditating on time and age。 An illness in the family and later an injury to me had long made clear that growing old could not be assumed。 And besides， growing old only postponed the inevitable， time seeing through what circumstance did not。 It was all a bit disheartening。
當年我37歲，威廉·特雷弗說這是“一個小心翼翼的年紀”。我總是想去沉思歲月和人生。我們家族中的一種遺傳病，後來也對我有所傷害。這件事告訴我不是每個人都能平平安安活到老的。況且，年華老去只不過是推遲了不可避免的死亡的事實，歲月看穿了一切。這有些令人傷感。
A list， though， would last。 To chronicle a life year by vulnerable year would be to clasp and to ground what was fleeting， would be to provide myself and others a glimpse into the future， whether we made it there or not。 And when I then began to compile my list， I was quickly obsessed， searching pages and pages for ages and ages。 Here we were at every annual step through our first hundred years。”Twenty-seven 。。。 a time of sudden revelations，“ ”sixty-two， 。。。 of subtle diminishments。“
然而一張時間表會得以留存。去記錄逐漸衰弱的生命，就是去嘗試挽留流水般逝去的年華，就是讓我們自己和別人可以窺一眼未來，無論我們是否能抵達終點。而當我開始整理我的時間表時，我就已經被迷住了，一頁一頁地尋找歲月的痕跡。在一百年的跋涉中我們回看每年的步伐。 “二十七歲，是一個充滿著豁然開朗的年齡。” “六十二歲，是一個逐漸光華不再的年齡。”
I was mindful， of course， that such insights were relative。 For starters， we now live longer， and so age more slowly。 Christopher Isherwood used the phrase ”the yellow leaf“ to describe a man at 53， only one century after Lord Byron used it to describe himself at 36。
當然我也明白，這種對歲月的見解是相對的。首先，我們的壽命比前人要長，所以我們衰老得慢。克里斯托弗·伊舍伍德用“落葉” 形容53歲的人，而一百年前拜倫伯爵正好用這個詞形容當時36歲的自己。
I was mindful， too， that life can swing wildly and unpredictably from one year to the next， and that people may experience the same age differently。 But even so， as the list coalesced， so， too， on the page， clear as the reflection in the mirror， did the life that I had been living： finding at 20 that ”。。。 one is less and less sure of who one is；“ emerging at 30 from the ”。。。 wasteland of preparation into active life；“ learning at 40 ”。。。 to close softly the doors to rooms ［I would］ not be coming back to。“ There I was。
我也知道，有時命運多舛的人一年之間也會經歷不可預測的大風大浪，每個人在同樣的年齡都有不同的經歷。即使如此，當這張時間表完成的時候，我仍然能在那裡面找到我自己一生的影子：發現“人在20歲的時候總是看不清自己”； 三十出頭“總算從荒蕪闖出精彩紛呈“；40歲學會了“要輕輕地關上我不再進去的房間的門。” 這就是我。
Of course， there we all are。 Milton Glaser， the great graphic designer whose beautiful visualizations you see here， and who today is 85 —— all those years ”。。。 a ripening and an apotheosis，“ wrote Nabokov —— noted to me that， like art and like color， literature helps us to remember what we‘ve experienced。
當然，這也是我們。你所看到的這張美麗的照片正是85歲的米爾頓·格拉塞，一位了不起的平面設計師。86個年頭，“正是成熟和昇華之時” 納博科夫寫到。對於我來說，文學就像藝術和色彩，替我們記住我們記住了曾經的我們。
And indeed， when I shared the list with my grandfather， he nodded in recognition。 He was then 95 and soon to die， which， wrote Roberto Bolaño， ”。。。 is the same as never dying。“ And looking back， he said to me that， yes， Proust was right that at 22， we are sure we will not die， just as a thanatologist named Edwin Shneidman was right that at 90， we are sure we will。 It had happened to him， as to them。
果真，當我把這張時間表 拿給我祖父看時 他贊同地點了點頭。 他當時已經95歲了， 離大去之時不遠了。像羅伯託·博拉諾寫的， “這就如同永垂不朽。” 往回看，我祖父也跟我這樣說過。普魯斯特說所不假， 22歲的我們堅信我們不會死， 而就像死亡學家， 埃德溫父施耐德曼說的，90歲的時候，我們都清楚我們將要離去。就跟他的同輩人一樣他已然經歷了死亡。
Now the list is done： a hundred years。 And looking back over it， I know that I am not done。 I still have my life to live， still have many more pages to pass into。 And mindful of Mailer， I await 44。
