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  1. 2008/12/17 我喜欢的一篇短篇 by yuvia
  2. 2008/12/04 [ 纽约时报 ] 2008年10佳图书 by yuvia
  3. 2008/11/27 英语分级读物 by yuvia
  4. 2008/11/25 少年的河 by yuvia
  5. 2008/11/24 六十亿人一起朝月球喊，火星人会耳聋吗？ by yuvia
  6. 2008/09/01 徐小平回答语言类专业学生的困惑。节选自《骑驴找马》 by yuvia
  7. 2008/08/26 阿波罗情史——玛尔珀萨 by yuvia
  8. 2008/08/26 The answer lies in you《答案在你心中——这辈子该思考的问题》 by yuvia (2)
  9. 2008/08/08 八月书单 by yuvia (1)
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我喜欢的一篇短篇

对大段大段的描写情有独钟，无对白的段落往往暗藏着无限的安静。
James Joyce的经典短篇，EVELINE，首段和尾段都是经典中的精粹。



SHE sat at the window watching the evening invade the avenue. Her head was leaned against the window curtains and in her nostrils was the odour of dusty cretonne. She was tired.

Few people passed. The man out of the last house passed on his way home; she heard his footsteps clacking along the concrete pavement and afterwards crunching on the cinder path before the new red houses. One time there used to be a field there in which they used to play every evening with other people's children. Then a man from Belfast bought the field and built houses in it -- not like their little brown houses but bright brick houses with shining roofs. The children of the avenue used to play together in that field -- the Devines, the Waters, the Dunns, little Keogh the cripple, she and her brothers and sisters. Ernest, however, never played: he was too grown up. Her father used often to hunt them in out of the field with his blackthorn stick; but usually little Keogh used to keep nix and call out when he saw her father coming. Still they seemed to have been rather happy then. Her father was not so bad then; and besides, her mother was alive. That was a long time ago; she and her brothers and sisters were all grown up her mother was dead. Tizzie Dunn was dead, too, and the Waters had gone back to England. Everything changes. Now she was going to go away like the others, to leave her home.

Home! She looked round the room, reviewing all its familiar objects which she had dusted once a week for so many years, wondering where on earth all the dust came from. Perhaps she would never see again those familiar objects from which she had never dreamed of being divided. And yet during all those years she had never found out the name of the priest whose yellowing photograph hung on the wall above the broken harmonium beside the coloured print of the promises made to Blessed Margaret Mary Alacoque. He had been a school friend of her father. Whenever he showed the photograph to a visitor her father used to pass it with a casual word:

"He is in Melbourne now."

She had consented to go away, to leave her home. Was that wise? She tried to weigh each side of the question. In her home anyway she had shelter and food; she had those whom she had known all her life about her. Of course she had to work hard, both in the house and at business. What would they say of her in the Stores when they found out that she had run away with a fellow? Say she was a fool, perhaps; and her place would be filled up by advertisement. Miss Gavan would be glad. She had always had an edge on her, especially whenever there were people listening.

"Miss Hill, don't you see these ladies are waiting?"

"Look lively, Miss Hill, please."

She would not cry many tears at leaving the Stores.

But in her new home, in a distant unknown country, it would not be like that. Then she would be married -- she, Eveline. People would treat her with respect then. She would not be treated as her mother had been. Even now, though she was over nineteen, she sometimes felt herself in danger of her father's violence. She knew it was that that had given her the palpitations. When they were growing up he had never gone for her like he used to go for Harry and Ernest, because she was a girl but latterly he had begun to threaten her and say what he would do to her only for her dead mother's sake. And no she had nobody to protect her. Ernest was dead and Harry, who was in the church decorating business, was nearly always down somewhere in the country. Besides, the invariable squabble for money on Saturday nights had begun to weary her unspeakably. She always gave her entire wages -- seven shillings -- and Harry always sent up what he could but the trouble was to get any money from her father. He said she used to squander the money, that she had no head, that he wasn't going to give her his hard-earned money to throw about the streets, and much more, for he was usually fairly bad on Saturday night. In the end he would give her the money and ask her had she any intention of buying Sunday's dinner. Then she had to rush out as quickly as she could and do her marketing, holding her black leather purse tightly in her hand as she elbowed her way through the crowds and returning home late under her load of provisions. She had hard work to keep the house together and to see that the two young children who had been left to her charge went to school regularly and got their meals regularly. It was hard work -- a hard life -- but now that she was about to leave it she did not find it a wholly undesirable life.

She was about to explore another life with Frank. Frank was very kind, manly, open-hearted. She was to go away with him by the night-boat to be his wife and to live with him in Buenos Ayres where he had a home waiting for her. How well she remembered the first time she had seen him; he was lodging in a house on the main road where she used to visit. It seemed a few weeks ago. He was standing at the gate, his peaked cap pushed back on his head and his hair tumbled forward over a face of bronze. Then they had come to know each other. He used to meet her outside the stores every evening and see her home. He took her to see The Bohemian Girl and she felt elated as she sat in an unaccustomed part of the theatre with him. He was awfully fond of music and sang a little. People knew that they were courting and, when he sang about the lass that loves a sailor, she always felt pleasantly confused. He used to call her Poppens out of fun. First of all it had been an excitement for her to have a fellow and then she had begun to like him. He had tales of distant countries. He had started as a deck boy at a pound a month on a ship of the Allan Line going out to Canada. He told her the names of the ships he had been on and the names of the different services. He had sailed through the Straits of Magellan and he told her stories of the terrible Patagonians. He had fallen on his feet in Buenos Ayres, he said, and had come over to the old country just for a holiday. Of course, her father had found out the affair and had forbidden her to have anything to say to him.

"I know these sailor chaps," he said.

One day he had quarrelled with Frank and after that she had to meet her lover secretly.

The evening deepened in the avenue. The white of two letters in her lap grew indistinct. One was to Harry; the other was to her father. Ernest had been her favourite but she liked Harry too. Her father was becoming old lately, she noticed; he would miss her. Sometimes he could be very nice. Not long before, when she had been laid up for a day, he had read her out a ghost story and made toast for her at the fire. Another day, when their mother was alive, they had all gone for a picnic to the Hill of Howth. She remembered her father putting on her mothers bonnet to make the children laugh.

Her time was running out but she continued to sit by the window, leaning her head against the window curtain, inhaling the odour of dusty cretonne. Down far in the avenue she could hear a street organ playing. She knew the air Strange that it should come that very night to remind her of the promise to her mother, her promise to keep the home together as long as she could. She remembered the last night of her mother's illness; she was again in the close dark room at the other side of the hall and outside she heard a melancholy air of Italy. The organ-player had been ordered to go away and given sixpence. She remembered her father strutting back into the sickroom saying:

"Damned Italians! coming over here!"

As she mused the pitiful vision of her mother's life laid its spell on the very quick of her being -- that life of commonplace sacrifices closing in final craziness. She trembled as she heard again her mother's voice saying constantly with foolish insistence:

"Derevaun Seraun! Derevaun Seraun!"

She stood up in a sudden impulse of terror. Escape! She must escape! Frank would save her. He would give her life, perhaps love, too. But she wanted to live. Why should she be unhappy? She had a right to happiness. Frank would take her in his arms, fold her in his arms. He would save her.

She stood among the swaying crowd in the station at the North Wall. He held her hand and she knew that he was speaking to her, saying something about the passage over and over again. The station was full of soldiers with brown baggages. Through the wide doors of the sheds she caught a glimpse of the black mass of the boat, lying in beside the quay wall, with illumined portholes. She answered nothing. She felt her cheek pale and cold and, out of a maze of distress, she prayed to God to direct her, to show her what was her duty. The boat blew a long mournful whistle into the mist. If she went, tomorrow she would be on the sea with Frank, steaming towards Buenos Ayres. Their passage had been booked. Could she still draw back after all he had done for her? Her distress awoke a nausea in her body and she kept moving her lips in silent fervent prayer.

A bell clanged upon her heart. She felt him seize her hand:

"Come!"

All the seas of the world tumbled about her heart. He was drawing her into them: he would drown her. She gripped with both hands at the iron railing.

"Come!"

No! No! No! It was impossible. Her hands clutched the iron in frenzy. Amid the seas she sent a cry of anguish.

"Eveline! Evvy!"

He rushed beyond the barrier and called to her to follow. He was shouted at to go on but he still called to her. She set her white face to him, passive, like a helpless animal. Her eyes gave him no sign of love or farewell or recognition.

Posted by yuvia

2008/12/17 22:15 2008/12/17 22:15
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[ 纽约时报 ] 2008年10佳图书

The editors of the Book Review have selected these titles from the list of 100 Notable Books of 2008.
FICTION

DANGEROUS LAUGHTER
Thirteen Stories
By Steven Millhauser.
Alfred A. Knopf, $24.

In his first collection in five years, a master fabulist in the tradition of Poe and Nabo­kov invents spookily plausible parallel universes in which the deepest human emotions and yearnings are transformed into their monstrous opposites. Millhauser is especially attuned to the purgatory of adolescence. In the title story, teenagers attend sinister “laugh parties”; in another, a mysteriously afflicted girl hides in the darkness of her attic bedroom. Time and again these parables revive the possibility that “under this world there is another, waiting to be born.” (Excerpt)

A MERCY
By Toni Morrison.
Alfred A. Knopf, $23.95.

The fate of a slave child abandoned by her mother animates this allusive novel — part Faulknerian puzzle, part dream-song — about orphaned women who form an eccentric household in late-17th-century America. Morrison’s farmers and rum traders, masters and slaves, indentured whites and captive Native Americans live side by side, often in violent conflict, in a lawless, ripe American Eden that is both a haven and a prison — an emerging nation whose identity is rooted equally in Old World superstitions and New World appetites and fears. (First Chapter)

NETHERLAND
By Joseph O’Neill.
Pantheon Books, $23.95.

O’Neill’s seductive ode to New York — a city that even in bad times stubbornly clings to its belief “in its salvific worth” — is narrated by a Dutch financier whose privileged Manhattan existence is upended by the events of Sept. 11, 2001. When his wife departs for London with their small son, he stays behind, finding camaraderie in the unexpectedly buoyant world of immigrant cricket players, most of them West Indians and South Asians, including an entrepreneur with Gatsby-size aspirations. (First Chapter)

2666
By Roberto Bolaño. Translated by Natasha Wimmer.
Farrar, Straus & Giroux, cloth and paper, $30.

Bolaño, the prodigious Chilean writer who died at age 50 in 2003, has posthumously risen, like a figure in one of his own splendid creations, to the summit of modern fiction. This latest work, first published in Spanish in 2004, is a mega- and meta-detective novel with strong hints of apocalyptic foreboding. It contains five separate narratives, each pursuing a different story with a cast of beguiling characters — European literary scholars, an African-American journalist and more — whose lives converge in a Mexican border town where hundreds of young women have been brutally murdered. (Excerpt)

UNACCUSTOMED EARTH
By Jhumpa Lahiri.
Alfred A. Knopf, $25.

There is much cultural news in these precisely observed studies of modern-day Bengali-Americans — many of them Ivy-league strivers ensconced in prosperous suburbs who can’t quite overcome the tug of traditions nurtured in Calcutta..With quiet artistry and tender sympathy, Lahiri creates an impressive range of vivid characters — young and old, male and female, self-knowing and self-deluding — in engrossing stories that replenish the classic themes of domestic realism: loneliness, estrangement and family discord. (Excerpt)


NONFICTION

THE DARK SIDE
The Inside Story of How the War on Terror Turned Into a War on American Ideals
By Jane Mayer.
Doubleday, $27.50.

Mayer’s meticulously reported descent into the depths of President Bush’s anti­terrorist policies peels away the layers of legal and bureaucratic maneuvering that gave us Guantánamo Bay, “extraordinary rendition,” “enhanced” interrogation methods, “black sites,” warrantless domestic surveillance and all the rest. But Mayer also describes the efforts ofunsung heroes, tucked deep inside the administration, who risked their careers in the struggle to balance the rule of law against the need to meet a threat unlike any other in the nation’s history.

THE FOREVER WAR
By Dexter Filkins.
Alfred A. Knopf, $25.

The New York Times correspondent, whose tours of duty have taken him from Afghanistan in 1998 to Iraq during the American intervention, captures a decade of armed struggle in harrowingly detailed vignettes. Whether interviewing jihadists in Kabul, accompanying marines on risky patrols in Falluja or visiting grieving families in Baghdad, Filkins makes us see, with almost hallucinogenic immediacy, the true human meaning and consequences of the “war on terror.” (First Chapter)

NOTHING TO BE FRIGHTENED OF
By Julian Barnes.
Alfred A. Knopf, $24.95.

This absorbing memoir traces Barnes’s progress from atheism (at age 20) to agnosticism (at 60) and examines the problem of religion not by rehashing the familiar quarrel between science and mystery, but rather by weighing the timeless questions of mortality and aging. Barnes distills his own experiences — and those of his parents and brother — in polished and wise sentences that recall the writing of Montaigne, Flaubert and the other French masters he includes in his discussion. (First Chapter)

THIS REPUBLIC OF SUFFERING
Death and the American Civil War
By Drew Gilpin Faust.
Alfred A. Knopf, $27.95.

In this powerful book, Faust, the president of Harvard, explores the legacy, or legacies, of the “harvest of death” sown and reaped by the Civil War. In the space of four years, 620,000 Americans died in uniform, roughly the same number as those lost in all the nation’s combined wars from the Revolution through Korea. This doesn’t include the thousands of civilians killed in epidemics, guerrilla raids and draft riots. The collective trauma created “a newly centralized nation-state,” Faust writes, but it also established “sacrifice and its memorialization as the ground on which North and South would ultimately reunite.” (First Chapter)

THE WORLD IS WHAT IT IS
The Authorized Biography of V. S. Naipaul
By Patrick French.
Alfred A. Knopf, $30.

The most surprising word in this biography is “authorized.” Naipaul, the greatest of all postcolonial authors, cooperated fully with French, opening up a huge cache of private letters and diaries and supplementing the revelations they disclosed with remarkably candid interviews. It was a brave, and wise, decision. French, a first-rate biographer, has a novelist’s command of story and character, and he patiently connects his subject’s brilliant oeuvre with the disturbing facts of an unruly life. (First Chapter)

Posted by yuvia

2008/12/04 13:02 2008/12/04 13:02
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英语分级读物

今天看到论坛上有个网友分享自己整理的各套英语分级读物索引，看了痒痒，把地址记录在这里：Graded Reading

Posted by yuvia

2008/11/27 14:43 2008/11/27 14:43
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少年的河

哀而不伤。这就是我读完《少年巴比伦》后最大的感受。本来扯了一些其他的话，后来觉得说出来太做作，不符合我的台风。我开始认同某些同学说的，读这个故事仿佛在读自己。会有一些人会产生这样的共鸣的。这些人的共同点是：他们都曾年轻无力、心怀梦想。

有那么一段人生的时光里，你全身的激素都处于苏醒的状态，你身体健康，思维敏捷，性欲强烈。那是一个最好的时代，又是一个最差的时代。你对世界一知半解。你心里怀着无数个梦想，它们像热气球一样飞向高空，由于飞得太远，已经模糊不清。那个时代里，你有着人类一生最炽热的青春，你却莽撞而无知，一只手被缚在现实的柱上，一只手捏着一只飞不起来的气球。最可怕的日子里，你浑身流淌着热量，却不知道怎样去灌溉你心中的田。

那段时间总会过去。你要么得道升仙，要么精疲力尽，可怕的悖论不会再出现。中年的智慧平息了胸中的火焰，你把生活拿捏得十分驯服，要么放弃梦想，要么把梦想踩在脚下。青年的时候，我们总以为自己是最清醒的，可是当你回头去看的时候，记忆的雾水就会笼罩住那些画面，你看到自己，站在很多故人中间，你读得到那些旁白，却听不到任何声音。直到某一天你找到了一个可以奋斗一生的目标，你的生命开始被一条单纯的线索维系，你的时间才不会再像从前那样混乱。路小路在糖精厂上班的那些年，就是那段纠结成团的日子吧。

我不知道作者写这个故事是要说明什么，也不知道一年前推荐我读这本书的人在这个故事里面看到了什么，我从小就不会概括中心思想。我的感受，大概是我结合自己现状最直观的反馈。我想当我三十岁的时候回首二十出头的这段岁月，我能品到什么样的滋味呢？我没有一个像白蓝那样的情人可以爱得毫无指望，也没有一道杀人犯般的眼神可以掩盖我的简单。路小路的无助都被他偷学来的痞气掩盖进了身体，又顺着烟圈挥发出来。我们都跟路小路很像，在不知道自己想要什么的时候糊里糊涂地接受了很多安排。有些人会继续下去，也有些人会一觉醒来，就去选择终止。

如果只是当一个小说去消遣，我欣赏路内的节奏。文字的节奏，语气的节奏，情节的节奏。它们都很快，很轻，就像你真的在回忆，那些过去其实已经记不太清，但表达出来总会有一定存在感。于是就这样，可能被略过了很多细节，我口述着我的故事，它们就像烟圈，吞进去时我的大脑混沌兴奋，吐出来时，我清醒又愉快。路内把这个叙述的节奏把握得很好，于是你就成了张小尹，坐在马路牙子上听故事。

可你总会被那些小情绪俘虏。于是故事读完，你轻轻地叹了口气。

Posted by yuvia

2008/11/25 22:10 2008/11/25 22:10
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六十亿人一起朝月球喊，火星人会耳聋吗？

我的感冒几乎是一夜就好了。那种骤然间鼻涕眼泪一大把的效果对我来说往往意味着更加骤然的风消云散。然而周围却是一大批一大批的同志们过上了守着卫生纸的日子。大妈大呼不要传染上我！我深感此项任务十分艰巨。没有十来个人积聚已久的感冒细菌，撂倒这位高大威猛食不离口的壮士是不大可能的。

今天买了两本书。我知道淘宝更便宜，但却习惯性的上了卓越。想买那本《一个人的电影》，卓越却很负众望地没货了。我的目标是那本“塑颜按摩法”，在Miss F那里看到的，又看了书评，反响很不错。不知道能不能把近来膨胀的大脸按回去，不过我很相信淋巴按摩对皮肤提拉的效果。买来看看，好了送给老妈一本。我妈比一般老妈们看起来年轻不少，我觉得一是因为她注意保养，二是因为她不爱操心。所以老妈，你要继续少操心！

我快二十三了。有一天我看到某同学眼角的皱纹被深深震惊了一下，下定决心好好对待自己。我不会化妆也赶不上潮流，对好多事我要么不上心要么死追也追不来，我也知道欣赏自然态是一种最恒久的美丽。只是决不能人未老，颜先衰。把自己弄到那份上，自己就是个一事无成的活招牌。

还买了本阿加莎·克里斯蒂的《ABC谋杀案》。想看这种书了，也觉得该看看。于是就看。
昨天买了北京飞回来的机票。回家的还没买到。

topshop的打折外套只要10磅。如果抢得到，加10磅运费送来都是值得的。

 

Posted by yuvia

2008/11/24 22:55 2008/11/24 22:55
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徐小平回答语言类专业学生的困惑。节选自《骑驴找马》

我觉得我不困惑，做自己想做的事情，这很大程度上和你读什么大学没有关系。如果你能在大学攻读自己的梦想，你只是比别人早幸福四年罢了。

对我来说，人生就是用心去作乐的过程。

假如结婚，和谁结——论语言专业的职业归宿

亲爱的徐老师：

我是一名北京外国语大学大三英语系的学生，我叫丁楠。(徐小平注：得到丁楠同学的同意，这里是她的真实姓名。)今年暑假我参加了新东方GRE培训班，本来准备9月份考试的，但是ETS宣布改笔考后，我有了更多时间复习，也有了更多时间好好考虑自己想要的究竟是什么。我原本计划去美国学教育专业，至于学成后回国干什么，一点概念也没有。之所以选教育专业，是因为不少师哥师姐都是走的这条路，他们说英语专业的出去也就是社会学、历史或者就是教育。其他专业很难出去，奖学金就更难了。

但是暑假我听了几场讲座，我觉得您的“出国留学一定要同就业直接挂钩”非常有道理。但真正操作起来，又挺困难，特别是对于我这个专业的学生。您的《图穷对话录》，您在新浪的访谈，以及新东方网站上您的文章，我都细细地“钻研”过。时而信心大增，时而又沮丧气馁。像我这个专业，可以说是什么都能学，也可以说根本就没专业。因为我们所学的专业课基本上一点实用价值都没有(就是一些精读、听力、口语、背景文化之类的)。有限的几门经济类的选修课授课水平又参差不齐，真不知道最后毕了业只有英语一门专长该如何与别人竞争。

说了这么多，您对我大概有了一个了解吧。事实上，我身边的人或多或少都会有我这样的疑惑。我有很多不同高校的英语系的同学，我们也常在一起“迷惘”。我主要的问题是，作为一个英语系的学生，没有其他的专业技能与背景。如果选择出国的话，我们能够读什么专业？回国后的就业前景又如何？

如果选择就业的话，如何才能确保自己能够进入外企？如果不能，还需要再学些什么？在外企工作几年后，能否解决以后上MBA的学费问题？希望我的问题不算太宽泛。感谢您百忙之中抽空看我的信，希望您能对我的问题有所解答。

丁楠

亲爱的丁楠：

你的来信，有巨大的社会共同性，所以，我要好好地回答你。此时此刻，我心里想的是你以及更多和你一样迷茫而又不甘失落的语言专业的朋友们。你为留学问题烦恼，是好事情。如果不为身边发生的潮流和时尚而冲动和兴奋，跃跃欲试，这样的人，一般都是过了更年期的老同志。老同志，只有过去，没有未来，所以他们只有遗憾而没有烦恼；年轻人，只有未来，没有过去，所以你们只有烦恼而没有遗憾。我为你的烦恼感到高兴。

你的关于留学的思路是带有根本性错误的。这个错误是：把留学作为目的，而不是把专业以及专业所向的就业作为目的。你问我：假如出国，学什么专业，以及学的这个专业回国是否好找工作？这个问题的荒谬，如同我问你，假如结婚，和谁结？结婚了会不会有幸福生活？世界上那么多男男女女，结婚前，首先要锁定一个爱的目标，才能谈得上求爱、做爱、求婚、结婚。结婚后活得如何，也要看把你叼进洞房的，是一个什么动物。

去美国留学也是这样。作为一个学英语的大学生出国读研究生，你首先要有一个特定的与就业、职业挂钩的专业目标，才能够考虑是否去美国留学。具体方法是：问问自己将来到底想从事什么职业，然后再确定能够确保从事这项职业的资格的留学攻读专业。你必须首先确定你到底想从事什么职业，然后再决定读什么学位，再决定积累何种经验。而不能像你来信表达出来的那种逆向思维，把学历作为一个目标，而不是把职业作为奋斗取向。

这是典型的中国学生的学历无意识——脱离了职业目标的学历追求，是盲人摸象，是摸石头过河，是青春游击队。职业目标才是人生追求的中心，而不是那个可爱又可恶的学历。学历为职业服务，而不是职业为学历牺牲。这两个关系的倒错，可能是中国教育和美国教育最大的差异之一。是在同样的求学道路上，导致中国学生的痛苦和美国学生的动力的根本原因之一。

你当然要问：基于语言学生专业特点之上的职业目标从何而来？这个来源，只有一个可能，就是从生活实践中来，从人生思考中来，从市场需求中来。其最最重要的来源，是从你的工作经验中来。我有幸认识你们学校一个学英语的女生，她在大学头几年，也是没有专业方向的。但她在大学做暑期工作期间，去了一家金融公司实习，从此就爱上了金融事业，矢志从事金融，考上了中国金融学院的国际金融研究生。毕业后在中国人民银行工作两年之后，看到金融和法律密不可分的关系，又考上了耶鲁法学院，并获得了大部分奖学金，从而搭建了她的人生平台。我采访过这个令人五体投地的女生。对她的采访录，我发表在2000年北京大学出版社出版的《美国留学天问》这本书里面。

这是外语系学生通过暑期实习找到了金融工作、确立了搞金融和法律人生目标的例子。我还有一个朋友，在北京大学英语系期间，积极从事本系黑板报和北大校刊的工作。这个工作，本来是大学生精力过剩和找对象的一个借口，但他做这件事情做出了滋味，从此立志搞新闻写作并且在这方面交了很多朋友。在他还没有毕业的时候，就被美国哥伦比亚大学新闻系录取，成为一个专业新闻工作者。(惟一可惜的是，由于他在国内并没有真正的媒体经验，毕业后就留在了美国工作，想回来而没有机会，至今依然浪迹天涯，找不到自己的根基)。

这是外语系学生通过校园活动进入新闻传播业的故事。

我在北京大学英语系还有一个朋友，毕业后留在北大教公共外语——这份工作，应该是外语系学生最普通、最平淡、最不浪漫的工作了。但这个家伙在教学中看到了社会对于英语学习的需求，就一个猛子扎到了英语教学的急流里——如同他小时候扎到河里捉鱼摸虾那样。最终搏击十年，创造了新东方，成为了俞敏洪。他至今做的工作，还是公共外语——为中国公众与世界的接轨，提供第一流的英语培训。

这是外语系学生通过工作实践找到一生事业的榜样。

上面三个故事，其实说明了一个思想，一个多年来我在新东方做留学咨询时宣扬的最重要的思想：留学的人生设计应该是，为了中国机会而积累中国经验，获得中国经验去捕捉中国机会。留学，只是中国经验和机会之间的一个触媒，一个联接，一个接力。

换言之，对于你们语言类，其实也包括许多社会科学、人文科学和工程类的大学生，如果想留学并且有前途的话，最好要有一定的中国工作经验。工作经验往往会成为你留学的专业，往往就是你留学以后的职业。这样，你围绕留学而产生的烦恼其实就迎刃而解了！

所以，对于你以及所有目前还没有找到自己“留学专业”和留学后“就业目标”的同学们，无论你是一年级新生还是应届毕业生，我的建议是：深入社会实践，不管是暑期工作、校园工作和毕业后工作都可以，去实习和工作自己。在实习和工作的过程中，发现自己的兴趣，发现自己的特长，发现自己的短处，更发现自己的厌恶，最终发现自己——找到你自己一生要从事的职业目标，并在这个职业目标的基础上，再决定自己留学读什么专业。

说一个最不浪漫但却是激动人心的“实践出前途”的故事吧：做家教，是几乎每个大学生都拥有的经验。做家教，有什么可激动的呢？可是，我个人就认识至少两三个朋友，做家教做出了连锁店和大公司，成为了家教领域里的百万富翁(婆)。这几个家伙都没有留学的打算了。但是我告诉他们，国外的家教，其实和中国一样发达。有一家叫“Sylvan Learning”的公司，是华尔街的上市公司，其家教分部遍布全世界(这家公司，据说和ETS还有投资关系呢——待考)。可见即使在家教领域,也有世界杰出的同行可供我们学习！也还是应该不断出国短期留学考察。像唐僧一样去取经，但十万八千里路，却比孙悟空走得还快。可以想像，如果上述这两个做家教的朋友，真的听我的劝告每年出去考察考察，看看国外是如何做课外补习产业的，这些国外学来的思路和方法，对他们业务的发展将会有多么强劲的推动！只是，虽然人的一生需要不断提升，但惟一的遗憾是学业与事业有时候是一对天生的冤家。取了这头，舍了那头。如何平衡我们不断学习和谋生创业的需要，是另外一个重大的话题，这里就不多说了。

这个巨变的时代，有一个焦灼的特征，人人都浮躁。有一次，我把这个“实践出前途、工作是黄金”的观点告诉了来自你的学校的三个美丽的女生，希望她们在国内工作三五年，积累经验，积累金钱，为出国做准备。她们突然说：徐老师，我们都是女生，女生25岁之后再出国，都那么大了，不好找对象啊！言下之意，她们也许愿意听从我的劝告在国内呆上三两年，但徐老师我必须为她们提供爱情三包的担保，否则，她们就会立即出国走人。

于是我说：你们为什么要留学？觉得自己的能力不足以实现自己的梦想啊。实现梦想，就是实现自我。你们现在寻找的，应该是“自我”，而不是“对象”。如果在“自我”实现之前找一个“对象”，而这个对象又不能和你同步在实现自我的道路上突飞猛进，最后的结果，必然是你找到了自我，他失去了自信，最后“对象”掉队——离婚。这就是为什么留学生离婚率那么高的原因。

我希望你不要学你那三个虽然美丽但是焦灼的女学长。为了前途追求留学是好事，但为了留学而忘记了留学的目的“职业”则是最大的蠢事。把一生的追求放在出国这个焦点上，而不是“经验”这个决定前途的平台上，稀里糊涂出国，稀里糊涂学习，稀里糊涂留在国外，这样的人，没有几个幸福和成功的。即使他认为自己幸福而成功，其人生的付出和收获，也肯定不如按照我的设计来得合算。留学也有一个性能价格比的问题。留学的性价比，是青春与生命的性价比。无论如何，也要谨慎投资，严谨估算啊。

我从来不反对人们出国。我是中国的留学鼓吹者。我只是以我的经验和智慧，告诉大家一个更合算的留学规划而已。想起来，也不是什么了不起的创见——这总是令我深感自卑。

我离题了吗？我觉得没有。我的主题是：外语院校“没有专业”的语言学生要出国，最好通过工作实践，发现自己的专业，并积累在这个专业里的经验，然后再决定“出国读什么”。

等一下！谁说外语院校的学生“没有专业”？语言难道不是一个专业吗？

尤其是像你这样的英语系的学生？外语学习在中国，正在成为一个燎原之火。

学英语的你，就是人们争相抢夺的火种。需要乃成功之母。你就是成功的分母。如果一个学英语的学生，在今日之中国居然看不到自己所学专业的巨大前景，简直是一个失去了金钱视力的人。

原来，心灵的盲区和视力的盲区，是同样的可怕、同样的黑暗啊!“假如给你三天光明”，你就把那些货币符号仔细认清。

不要告诉我，你对英语教学不感兴趣。世界上真正“爱”自己专业的人并不多。试看今日之俞敏洪，也不再讲课了！但人人都需要谋生。俞敏洪当初创办新东方，也只是为了一个字：谋生。他和无数无名英雄的英语老师们惟一的不同在于，他把新东方补习班这个生计做得非常好，使得这个为了谋生的“就业”，成为他可以终生从事的“职业”，更成为了体现自己生命价值的“事业”。为谋求生存而就业——为终生发展而职业——为人生价值而事业——这是每一个受过高等教育的人生命发展的基本轨迹，也是我发明的生命价值论。

对不起，我不得不在这里重复一下我的这个理论。

体现我们人生价值的“事业”，英文所谓的cause,valuable cause，实际上首先蕴涵在我们的就业之中。古人云：“三百六十行，行行出状元。”行业，这是经典的谋生的平台。在行业里做成“状元”的人，他的人生能没有价值吗？！今日的青年人，最重要的人生使命，其实不是寻找快乐。这不是生命的本质。生命的本质，是维持和发展生命本身。维持和发展自己的生命，基本的前提，不是兴趣，而是生存。何以解忧？惟有杜康；何以生存？惟有工作。

只有工作，才有钱买杜康以解忧。

顺便说一句，李白一生狂饮，没有工作时也要喝，没有钱怎么办？他就劝人家把家里的东西卖了给他买酒。有诗为证：“主人何为言少钱，径须沽取对君酌。五花马，千金裘，呼儿将出换美酒”……古往今来，鼓励别人卖东西买酒给他喝而不被历史称之为无赖的人，也就只有李白了！

言归正传。从事英语教学，对于英语系学生来说，是最大最好的谋生——职业途径之一。在这个意义上，出国留学读英语教学(美国叫TESOL，加拿大叫ESL，英国叫TEFL，澳大利亚也叫TESOL，都有硕士学位可读)，以及与英语教学相关的你在信中所提到的教育硕士学位，也是英语系学生一种美好的选择。

未来中国，需要多少新东方，需要多少英语教师，需要多少新型学校的教育管理者！瞧，你的就业与职业问题几乎已经解决啦！恭喜恭喜。

一个人确认了自己做的事情，就要认真投入做下去。反复做一件事情的人，就是这个事情的天才。所以，不要说你对英语教学缺少天才。至今还忿忿不平于大学四年没有一个女生追求的俞敏洪都能成为一代英语教学大师，你——我估计你肯定谈过恋爱，只要谈过一次就已经比俞老师多——就更加有前途啦！因为，会谈恋爱的人，肯定知道如何让对方高兴或让对方不高兴。这和教学差不多。教英语，只要拿出谈恋爱三分之一的激情和爱心，passion anddevotion来对待学生，岂有教不好英语之理？

上面说了很多关于英语教学。其实，我只是在拿英语说事儿呢！我还鼓励学语言的同学们去从事任何其他应用型行业。“新华商”的代表人物王辉耀说，MBA是通才教育。其实英语人才，更是一种神通广大的通才。顺便说一句，王辉耀本人，就是西安外语学院英语系毕业——在经贸部工作找到商业管理的职业途径——出国读了MBA，从而实现了人生奋斗的成功。

套用那句古老的至理名言：三百六十行，行行要外语。行行都是外语系同学们做状元的用武之地。乘着中国教育体制还不那么完善，人才培训体系还不那么全面，机会和漏洞并存的春风，充分利用自己学语言的flexibility andversatility，选中一个行业，一个猛子扎下去吧。

只要你在水底憋得时间足够长，等你浮起的时候，手里一定抓满了职业和事业活蹦活跳的生猛海鲜。好了，我已经说得够多。面对就业，具体做什么、学什么，我无法在这里逐一叙述，说了也毫无意义。因为实践出真知，经验出成功。在这个价值观念和人才机会急剧变化的时代，一个青年最重要的是要有捕捉机会的眼光——这就是我在《图穷对话录》里，提出来的人才成功四个ION之首的vision。

追求成功的人，首先需要有眼光(vision)。但是vision从何而来？从市场来，从金钱来，从商业意识来，从社会发展趋势来。大江东去，总有人看不到前景而做出错误的选择而被时代淘汰淹没；总有人看到了机会而纵身跳到海里从而成为乘风破浪的弄潮儿。如何选择行业，如何把握机会，如何追求价值……这里牵涉到的，是决定我们命运的价值观和人生观，这封信里是无法完成这个使命的了。我会在其他地方继续和你探索这个问题。

《图穷对话录》基本上讲清楚了我们应该选择什么，不应该盲从什么。如果你在读了我的这封通信后再回去阅读《图穷对话录》，肯定会有新的感受——利用学生对我的信任，自己推销自己的书，既恬不知耻，也当仁不让——谁让我先于更加优秀的书籍出现之前，写出了这本“我的新东方人生咨询”实用案例呢？为了学生的前途，我只能做此牺牲了……Guilty, and proud of it!

你信中与留学有关的第二个问题，我想我已经不需要回答了。有了经验，有了专业，就有了职业方向，就有了幸福，回国或者留在国外，就有了充分的前途保障，就不再需要向徐老师提问了……等一等！我突然发现，徐老师存在必要性的前提，原来是学生们的不幸福！真可怕呀，救命……今天就写到这里。我会寻找另外的机会，仔细回答你提出的是否有必要以及如何进入外企的问题。

徐老师

亲爱的徐老师：

谢谢您的回信！它对我意义重大！在某种程度上说，它标志着我人生选择上的转折点——没有它，我会选择另外一条道路——虽说我现在无法预知那一条盲目留学路是否会真正有助于我的发展，但我敢肯定的是，您所强调的“中国机会论”这条路决不会是条歧路。

我的问题是“荒谬”的，以至于当我现在重读后几乎失笑。由此可见，我本人，以及我身边一代青年的困惑之深。我们生长于改革开放的年代，却仍受到许多来自父母的传统教育。激烈的竞争以及父辈们殷切的希望往往使我们迷失自己。我们浮躁，不安，烦恼……我们迫切地渴望一条展现自己、实现自我价值的道路！说实话，现在的大学生十有八九对自己的未来没有规划，有的只是些抽象缥缈的目标。从众心理、攀比心理比比皆是……不可讳言，我自己也是如此。当初决定要出国，最大的原因恐怕还是因为以前高中的校友纷纷奔赴美加新澳，令我向往不已。后来上了大学，更是在某种心理的影响下给毕业后的几大归宿划了个等级：出国第一，考研第二，找工作最末。呵呵，现在想起来真可笑，其实这些选择怎能分级呢？海归派也有找不到自己位置的，研究生没有工作的大有人在，而有工作经验者反倒独具优势……所谓的正确与否都是相对而论，必须由市场见证。

然而，当我把以上言论告诉给当时打算一起出国的同学时，他们却摇了摇头——“本科生找工作怎么竞争得过研究生？！”或者“如果去不了美国，我就去加拿大或澳大利亚，反正一定要出去”！“照你这么说，等我再出国时我都二十六七了，我可考不了那些试……”徐老师，我现在深刻地理解到您的焦灼了！我的这些同学都很优秀，但他们把自己牢牢绑在文凭和留学镀金上，拒绝投身于更广阔的工作实践的天地。

因此，这也是我要向您建议的一点：更广泛地宣传您的“中国机会论”！

不要让聪明的中国学生浪掷宝贵的青春！——我想起了《图穷对话录》中的柯莲、乐一吟和施雨，不由得打了个寒噤……一个小小选择上的失误竟可以如此深刻地影响人的一生……由此我想到了您一向提倡的——职业目标论。我觉得这是您除了“中国机会论”外的最一针见血的论述了。它的重要性在于，其涉及范围已不仅仅是出国不出国、留学不留学，而是在整个人生长途上如何有规划地达到终点。在这个意义上，它所带来的社会效益将荫庇何止一代人！——或许我这么说有溜须拍马之嫌，但是有我的上一代为证！承受失业下岗之痛的不正是他们吗？这其中固然有历史、社会因素，然而他们缺少合理的职业规划不能不说是一大原因。正因为我们的父辈已经有了这样的教训，我们这一代才更应该避免重蹈覆辙。

Posted by yuvia

2008/09/01 11:57 2008/09/01 11:57
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阿波罗情史——玛尔珀萨

奥林匹斯山神永远被情欲纠缠，西方神话表达的是人类最原始本真的欲望。

今天做神话的节目，讲阿波罗。看到了下面这个阿波罗情史中的一个小片段，有点意思。“我需要人间的忧伤”。

少女玛尔珀萨，荷马称她为“厄维诺斯的纤踝女儿”。阿波罗爱上了少女，强行夺走。但少女的情人伊达斯也是个大英雄，拿上弓箭乘飞车追赶。一神一人展开了搏斗，宙斯赶来调停，他并不袒护自己的儿子（但伊达斯最终还是被宙斯的雷电击毙），而是十分公正地让少女自己选择。这本来是个没有疑义的单项选择题：阿波罗是绝世帅哥，与他恋爱可以永生。但是，少女偏偏选择了血肉凡胎的伊达斯。她可不是为了维护道德规范，她说：“我是凡人，需要人间的忧伤。”真的，爱情与永生是矛盾的。

Posted by yuvia

2008/08/26 14:31 2008/08/26 14:31
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The answer lies in you《答案在你心中——这辈子该思考的问题》

昨天骆驼推荐我一本书，今天早上读完了。这本书叫《答案在你心中——这辈子该思考的问题》，双语，全是问题，不过不多，只有90个。问题基本上是很刁钻的那种，让你感到如果人生真的陷入了那种困境，还真的不如一死了之。

如果整整一年都过得幸福美满，
此后就彻底失忆，
你愿意吗？
为什么不愿意？

如果有时间，每天问自己一个问题。我笃信潜意识里的东西，是因为我知道我们有时候并不是真的了解自己。有些事情可能一辈子你都不会付诸行动，但是心里却杂草丛生；有的问题你觉得不会那样解决，一旦答案只有两个选项，你会发现自己的天平倾斜得极为明显。你还会发现自己心里许多小小的魔。它们大都披着一层无伤大雅的外衣，被你的微笑和善行所掩盖。但它们却潜伏于你的心里，就等着某一刻破茧而出。我不怕心里的这些邪恶，它们使我变得真实。

如果你愿意，你也可以去和你心里的邪恶见个面：http://lz.book.sohu.com/serialize-id-10504.html

我还挺喜欢搜狐网友的一段评论。有时候提出一个问题并不在乎你的答案，而在乎的是你听到问题时的反应。因为，谎言是可以脱口而出的，说谎时的局促却不可以掩饰。

隐秘的信号: 虽说是“答案在被问者心中”，但当你发问时，就会从对方的回答或者回答方式中获得一些隐秘的信号，从而判断出他们真正的想法。 有次，问了两个朋友同一个问题：如果在火车上和你相谈甚欢的陌生人要和你发生一夜情，这事儿绝对不会有外人知道，对方也保证给你报酬。你会不会答应呢？ 有人直接给了否定答案，这种人往往有强烈的道德感，从不做让自己内心不舒服的事情。有人却并不回答是或否，而是详细分析情况，给出了很多理由。这种人往往 有去一夜情的潜质，但他会很实际地权衡利弊，看事情是不是对自己有利；如果有人反问，怎么可能没人知道呢，这实际上是一种侥幸心理，反问就是他在确定这种 侥幸的可能性，有时候他就会说服自己去认同这种侥幸。 当然，也有人可能撒谎，说自己不会答应，但实际上却十分乐意。不过，这种问题往往会让人措手不及，来不及掩饰真正的想法，或者就要考验你的观察力，发现一 些隐秘信号，也许就能发现被问者的真实想法。 不管是扪心自问，还是去试探别人，这本书都算得上是快刀手。



Posted by yuvia

2008/08/26 11:36 2008/08/26 11:36
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八月书单


左拉的《娜娜》
每个月得读完一本名著吧？哪怕是译本。








《我们始终没有牵手旅行》
仅仅是为了这个题目心动。






《1000英语俏皮话》
英语，提高一下。








卓越正在搞活动，花5块钱买来了一本上月份出的《东方艺术》杂志。40多块钱呢，占一下便宜吧。

嗯，如果我能读完这些书，我每月都给自己50块钱的读书预算。

Posted by yuvia

2008/08/08 17:24 2008/08/08 17:24
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