Chapter 113 vernacular

The word has three meanings; (1) Refers to modern Chinese, a colloquial language as opposed to classical Chinese. (2) Refers to unimportant or even non-real and down-to-earth chats, just for fun.It is even a kind of deception, such as "pinching white".Here, "white" is obviously far away from the references of "plain" and "clear", highlighting the character of ineffectiveness, meaninglessness and immorality. (3) In the Maqiao language, "Bai" is pronounced as Pa, which has the same pronunciation as "Bo", so vernacular is also afraid of words, and in many cases it tells strange stories and crime stories, giving the audience a kind of excitement and enjoyment.

Maqiao people's vernacular is like Sichuan people's arranging dragons.This kind of activity is mostly carried out at night or on rainy days, and it is a way of leisure, which makes me have to suspect that Chinese vernacular Chinese was born under such gloomy eaves from the beginning, rooted in some anecdotal and unusual topics for ordinary entertainment, Even some horror topics.Zhuangzi regards novels as trivial and superficial words, and Ban Gu defines novels as "gossip and hearsay", which is roughly close to this situation.From "Sou Shen Ji" in the Wei and Jin Dynasties to the early Qing Dynasty, as the original line of vernacular, it is indeed full of absurd gods and monsters and special cases, which repeatedly hit the audience's fearful nerves.Here, there is neither the combined economy of Jingbanglunguo, nor the solitary benevolence of pure heart and asceticism.Unlike classical Chinese, vernacular was never considered a noble language, never capable of channeling passions and indicating spiritual ultimates.

Vernacular is almost just a daily consumer product, a kind of market language.After it has been transformed by Western languages ​​in modern times and acquired its own mature and complete form, it has not changed the value discrimination many people have towards it—at least in the dictionary of Maqiao people, at least before the 1990s, vernacular was vernacular However, words that are understood are words that are said in vain, words that are in vain, it still has nothing to do with any serious and grand theme, and it is still just a synonym for "street gossip and gossip".Maqiao people have not yet felt the urgent need to use a new real name to clearly distinguish the above three meanings of "white" and get rid of the confusion of concepts.Perhaps, they think of themselves as some lowly people, some ignorant and uneducated rough people.They can only enter a kind of vulgar and useless "white", and enter into the degeneration of language-it is tantamount to condemning and exiling themselves for language.True knowledge seemed to them to be expressed in another mysterious and unfathomable language, impossible to express by them.

In their speculation, except for the sporadic words left by the ancestors, that language may have disappeared, and the language of the hints may be hidden in the spells of witches, the symptoms of dreamers, and the words hidden in nature. Thunder and rain, and they couldn't possibly understand.They were thin, dark, hard-knuckle but had yellow eyes and hair.They surrendered the supremacy of language to someone they didn't know, and then buried themselves in their own lives.Unfortunately, my attempt at novels, the most important language memory of my youth, was nurtured by their vernacular, from their night or rainy day, when small groups of people huddled up and happily exchanged some nonsense Gossip.Because of this unchangeable background, my novels must be laughed at by them, and they can only be regarded as nonsense that is of no benefit to the world.In a sense, I thank them for their reminders and their contempt.No matter how much I like this form of novels, after all, novels are novels, just novels.Human beings already have countless beautiful novels, but the wars in Bosnia and Herzegovina and the Middle East are still going on.The Nazis who had read Goethe and Antisianevsky still killed people, and the profiteers who had read Cao Xueqin and Lu Xun still cheated.The role of fiction should not be exaggerated.

Furthermore, not only fiction, but all language is just language, just symbols for describing facts, just as clocks are only symbols for describing time.No matter how clocks have shaped our sense of time, the time we know it, clocks are still not time.Even if all the clocks were smashed, even if all the timekeeping instruments were smashed, time would still go on.Therefore, we should say that all languages ​​are also "vernacular" in the strict sense, and their role should not be exaggerated. For more than ten years, I have written some novels not for writers.In essence, I didn't do more than the Maqiao man, and writing novels one by one was actually like reviewing what I was doing at the moment—he measured our progress in digging holes today and heaved a sigh of relief. "You're going to shut your mouth, let's talk some vernacular." He threw away the pole, stretched his arms, and smiled happily.

It was warm in the cave.We didn't need any extra clothes, we lay knees against our knees on the soft loose soil, staring at the flickering dim lights on the wall of the cave. "Will you tell me a paragraph?" "You talk first." "You talk first. After reading those books, you must have read a lot of vernacular." I think there is something wrong with this sentence, but I don't know how to correct it. "Okay, let me tell a joke of the original meaning. Last month, you went to a meeting for the militia training. He rushed to Shauguping and said that my password was weak, and asked me to stand on the sidelines and watch him How did he yell. He yelled 'Turn left', then 'Turn right', 'Turn back', and finally 'Turn forward'. Knowing how to turn forward, Benyi stared wide-eyed, drew a circle towards the ground, and said your car is coming, car is coming—”

Fucha laughed out loud and hit his head on the cave wall. "Okay, let me tell you one too." He moistened his voice excitedly and told a ghost story.He said that there was a man in Shuanglong Town who built a house on the side of the mountain and built a tall building on stilts.He lived upstairs. One night when he woke up, he saw a head looking around from the window. He thought it was a child. Then he thought it was wrong. He was sleeping upstairs, and the window was two meters high from the ground. This thief How do you have such long feet?He found the flashlight and flicked it on, and guess what?

"How?" My hair stood on end. "This thief has no eyes, no nose and mouth, his face is bare... There were footsteps at the entrance of the cave.After listening to it, I knew that Fang Ying had returned from home.She said just now that she would go back and get some papa to eat. Fucha tore the steaming cake in his hand, and said with a smile, "We're talking about ghosts, can you hear me?" She gave an urgent "hmm", and the sound of footsteps went into the darkness. "There are ghosts outside, aren't you afraid?" The footsteps stopped.

Check it out and have fun. "Is it snowing outside?" no answer. "Is it almost dawn?" still none. "Okay, okay, let's not talk about ghosts, you sit in, it's warm here." After a moment of silence, the whirring voice of Xixi came closer.But I still didn't see Fang Ying, only a metal buckle on her shoe emerged from the darkness and flickered.So I knew that one of her feet was not far from me. I don't know when, there was a thud on the top of the forehead, and after a while, there was another heavy thud, shaking the lights, but the sound didn't seem to come from the top of the forehead, but from the front, or the left, the right, or the front. all directions.Fucha looked a little nervous and asked me what was going on.I said I don't know.He said that there are mountains above, and it is night, so there should be no sound.I said there shouldn't be any sound.Did he say we dug into the grave?Are you really going to encounter a ghost?I said I don't believe it.He said that the old team had said that there used to be a hole on Tianziling that could lead to the river, so should we dig it too?Maybe Beijing is outside, or the United States?I said that thanks to you still studying in middle school, you only dug tens of meters?I am afraid that the dung shed next to Bunyan's house has not been dug.

He smiled ashamedly, and said that sometimes he couldn't understand why it was so far away, why is it always so far away?After a long time, why is it always so long?Isn't there a way, for example, to use the method of digging a hole to dig to another world? This was my fantasy when I was a child - I often put my head under the quilt, hoping to see some bright miracle when I got out from the other end of the quilt. We waited for a new voice for a while, but there was nothing. Fucha yawned in disappointment, "Forget it, it's almost time, let's work part-time." I said, "You carry the lamp."

He said, "Put on your clothes, it's cold outside." The lights moved behind me.So, my figure suddenly magnified infinitely in front of me, and swallowed me in one gulp.