Chapter 5 Section 01-10 of the third part

Section 01 I spent the summer after the trial in the reading room of the university library.I come to the reading room as soon as it opens and leave when it closes.I study at home on weekends.I was so absorbed in my books that I kept my ears out of the window that the numbness to my senses and mind from the trial never returned to normal.I avoided human contact, I moved out of the house and rented a room outside.The few acquaintances I have are just acquaintances who meet in the reading room or occasionally in the cinema, and now I don't nod to them. During the winter term, my demeanor changed little.Still, I was asked if I would like to go skiing with some students over Christmas.Oddly enough, I said yes.

I'm not a great skier, but I like to skate, and I like to go fast, and I like to ride with people who are really good skiers.My downhill skills aren't really that great, but I still sometimes risk falling and breaking bones down hills.However, there was another risk I took—a risk that later materialized that I didn’t know about. I never feel cold.I skied with a shirt on while others were skiing in sweaters and jackets, and the others shook their heads and gave me advice.But I ignored their apprehensive advice because I didn't feel cold.When I started coughing, I blamed it on Austrian cigarettes.When I started to have a fever, I actually felt that it was a kind of enjoyment.I feel weak and light at the same time.My senses were dulled, but I felt good: comfortable, fulfilled.I seem to be flying through the clouds.

Then, I was sent to the hospital with a high fever.When I was discharged from the hospital, my numbness was gone.All the questions, the fears, the accusations, the self-blame, all the panic and pain that had been numb during the court proceedings came back and stayed in me.I don't know what kind of diagnosis a doctor makes when a person should feel cold but doesn't feel cold.My self-diagnosis: insensitivity overwhelmed my flesh before it got rid of me, or before I could get rid of it. When I finished my studies over the summer and started working as an alternate officer, the student movement started.I'm interested in history and sociology, and as an alternate I still have enough time to stay in college to experience what's going on.Experience doesn't mean participation, and colleges and college reform boil down to me as indifferent as guerrillas in Vietnam and Americans.As for the third - and indeed the most basic - theme of the student movement, the question of how to deal with Nazi history, I feel so far removed from other students that I don't feel comfortable advocating with them Agitate and march together.

Sometimes I think that debating Nazi history is not the reason for the student movement, but rather an expression of the intergenerational conflict that is clearly the driving force of this student movement.Younger generations were disappointed that their parents did not do what they were supposed to do during the Third Reich, or at least after it ended.Every generation of young people has to be freed from this disappointment with their parents.What are the parents who either committed Nazi crimes, stood by or turned a blind eye to Nazi crimes, or tolerated and accepted criminals after 1945, what to say to their children!But on the other hand, Nazi history is also an issue worth discussing for children who are unable or unwilling to condemn their parents.For them, this debate over Nazi history is not the outward manifestation of a conflict between two generations, but the crux of the matter.

Whatever the moral and legal responsibilities of collective crime, it is a fact of life for my generation of students.Not just the fact that what happened in the Third Reich, but what happened later, such as Jewish tombstones being painted with swastikas; many old Nazis rising up the courts, in the administration or at the universities; the Federal Republic of Germany No recognition of the state of Israel; fewer stories of exile and resistance, more of survival by adapting to changed circumstances... all of this shames us even though we have a right to blame those responsible .While blaming those responsible doesn’t free us from shame, it does remove the pain it creates. It can transform the passive pain caused by shame into acts of strength, positivity, and aggression.Because of this, taking on a guilty parent is so energizing.

I can't point the finger at anyone.I can't blame my parents because I have nothing against them.The enthusiasm to blame my own father for the sake of clarifying the truth that I had when I attended the concentration camp seminar was a thing of the past for me, and it embarrassed me.What the other people around me did, the crimes they committed, were nothing compared to what Hannah had done.Actually, I had to blame Hannah, but to blame Hannah was to shoot myself in the foot.I loved her, I not only loved her, I chose her.I tried to comfort myself by saying that when I chose Hannah, I knew nothing about what she had done in the past.I tried to make myself feel innocent, saying that I was in the same state as a child loves its parents.But who is the love for parents—a love that does not require people to take responsibility.

Perhaps people are even responsible for loving their parents.At the time, I envied those classmates who distanced themselves from their parents and from an entire generation of criminals—bystanders, escapers, sufferers, and recipients—because they could at least relieve, if not relieve, the pain of shame. Words of shame itself, but where does that self-flavorful conceit I so often see in them come from?How is it possible to feel guilty and ashamed and at the same time be proud of his self-promotion?Is it just rhetoric and clamor to set boundaries with your parents?Do you want to declare through this clamor that the movement of obsessing over guilt out of love for parents has begun and cannot be undone?

These were my afterthoughts, and even afterwards it was no consolation to me.How can it be a comfort?I love that Hannah's pain is partly the fate of our generation, the fate of the Germans.It is more difficult for me to escape this fate than for others, and it is more difficult for me to overcome it than others.Still, it would have done me a lot of good at the time if I could have integrated myself with my contemporaries. Section 02 I was married when I was an alternate officer.Gertrude and I met in a ski shed.At the end of the vacation, after everyone else had gone back, she stayed on and stayed until I was discharged from the hospital and sent me back.She also studied law, and we studied together, passed the exams together, and became alternate officials together.We got married when she was pregnant.

I didn't mention Hannah to her.I thought, if it wasn't an obligation, who would listen to me about my previous relationship with another person?Gertrude is intelligent, hardworking, and faithful.Our lives would be full and happy if our lives were running a farm, employing many slave men and women, having many children, having too much work to do, and no time for each other.But this is our life as a family of three, daughter Julia and two alternate officials, Gertrude and I, in a three-bedroom apartment in a newly built building on the outskirts of the city.When I was with Gertrude, I couldn't stop comparing her life with mine to Hannah's.Whenever we hugged, I always had a feeling that something was wrong, that something was wrong with her, that she wasn't touching and touching, that she didn't smell right, that she didn't taste right.I thought, this feeling will go away, I hope this feeling will go away, I want to get rid of Hannah, but this feeling of something wrong never goes away.

We divorced when Julia was five because neither of us could take it anymore.We divorced painlessly and have remained faithfully in touch ever since.It pains me that we can't give Julia the security that she clearly wants.While Gertrude and I were close and in love with each other, Julia felt at home among us.When she noticed the tension between us, she ran from one side of us to the other, assuring us that we were all cute and she loved us.She hopes to have a little brother and is happy to have many siblings.For a long time, she didn't understand what divorce was all about.When I went to see her, she asked me to stay.When she comes to see me, she is to come with Gertrude.Whenever I left her, she leaned over the window and looked out, and when I got into the car with her sad eyes on me, it broke my heart.I have a feeling that what we're not granting her is not just her one wish, but her right to have it.We defrauded her of her rights when we divorced, and we did it together, but our guilt is not halved.

I tried to build a better marriage relationship again.I admit that the woman I'm looking for has to be a little bit like Hannah, to be touched and touched like her, to smell and taste a bit like Hannah's, so that our life together doesn't feel wrong.And, I tell them about me and Hannah.I also told more about myself in front of other women than I did in front of Gertrude.They should interpret in their own way what astonishes them in my manner and speech.However, those women don't want to hear too much.I remember Helen, a scholar of American literature, when I was talking, she stroked my back silently to comfort me; when I stopped talking, she continued to stroke me silently to comfort me.Gesina, who is a psychoanalyst, thought that I had to clean up my relationship with my mother.She asked me if I noticed how little my mother was in my stories?Silke is a dentist, and she kept asking me about my past, but then forgot everything I told her.In this way, I will not say anything, because what people say is only what people themselves do. Since it is a fact, it does not necessarily have to be nothing. Section 03 When I was taking my second state exam, the professor who organized the seminar on the concentration camps died.Gertrude had come across the news by chance in the obituary section of the newspaper.The funeral was held in a mountain cemetery.She asked me if I wanted to go. I do not want to go.The funeral was on Thursday afternoon and I had exams Thursday and Friday morning.Furthermore, the professor and I were not particularly close.I don't like going to funerals.I don't want to remember that trial again. However, it was too late, the memory had already been awakened.When I got home from my exams on Thursday, it was as if I had to make an appointment that I couldn't afford to miss, an appointment with the past. I went there by tram, which I don't usually take.It was already a touch with the past, as if returning to a familiar place, a place that had changed its appearance.When Hannah worked on the tram company, there were two or three-car trams with platforms at the ends of the cars and steps next to the platforms, and people could still jump on the steps if the tram was already in motion, and there was a A rope that loops around the entire carriage, and the conductor pulls this rope to signal the departure.In summer, trams run with open platforms, conductors buy tickets, punch tickets, check tickets, announce stations, send traffic signals, take care of children crowded on the platforms, reprimand those passengers who jump up and down, when the train is full Time to prevent another person.Some conductors are funny, some are serious and sullen, and some are rude.Their personalities and moods often affect the atmosphere in the carriage.How foolish I was to be afraid to wait and experience her as a conductor after my failed wish to surprise Hannah by car to Schweitzingen. I boarded a tram without a conductor to the mountain cemetery.It was a cooler autumn day, the sky was high and the clouds were clear, and the sun was no longer warm enough to look at it without stinging.It took me a while to find the cemetery where the funeral would be held.I walked among the tall leafless trees and the old tombstones, occasionally meeting a cemetery gardener or an elderly woman with a watering pot and repair shears.The cemetery was so quiet that I could hear the hymns sung beside the professor's tombstone from a distance. I stood aside and watched the small funeral crowd carefully.Some of them looked distinctly withdrawn and eccentric.From the eulogies introducing the professor's life story and works, it can be heard that he himself escaped the restraint of society, and thus broke away from the connection with society. He has always maintained his independence and became withdrawn. I recognized a classmate from the seminar who had taken the state exam before me, became a lawyer, and later became the owner of a small hotel.He came in a long red coat.After the funeral, as I was walking back towards the gates of the cemetery, he came up to me and said hello: "We had a seminar together, don't you remember?" "Remember." We shook hands. "I always go to court on Wednesdays, and sometimes I drive you there," he said with a smile. "You're there every day, every day, every week. Now tell me why?" He looked sympathetically, expectantly. I.It reminded me that I had noticed this look in his eyes during the seminar. "I'm particularly interested in the court proceedings." "You're particularly interested in the courtroom?" He laughed again. "Is it the courtroom or the defendant you keep staring at? The one who looks pretty good? We're all wondering , what was your relationship with her, but no one dared to ask you. We were very compassionate and understanding. Do you remember..." He mentioned another classmate in the seminar who stuttered and spoke He bites his tongue, talks a lot and doesn't make much sense, and we still have to listen attentively, as if every word he says is the words of gold and stone.He started talking about the other students in the seminar, how they were then and what they are doing now.He went on and on, but, I knew he would eventually ask me again: "Well, what's your situation with that defendant?" I didn't know how to answer, how to deny, how to admit and how to avoid. At this time we arrived at the gate of the cemetery, and he really asked me this question.There happened to be a tram moving slowly at the station.I said "goodbye" and ran as if I could jump on the running board, I ran beside the car and slammed my hands on the door.What I couldn't believe and didn't hope for at all happened: the car stopped again, the door opened, and I got in. Section 04 After I was an alternate, I had to choose a profession, but I didn't choose right away.Gertrude immediately became a judge.She had a mountain of things to do and I was happy to stay home and take care of Julia.Once Gertrude had overcome her initial difficulties and Julia was in kindergarten again, my decision was imminent. I'm having a hard time making a decision.Of the various legal roles I had seen in Hannah's court trial, none seemed to suit me.To me, the suit and the defense are equally comically simplistic, and the judgment is the funniest of all simplifications.In my opinion, I am also not suitable to be a government official in the management department.Having worked in state government as an alternate officer, I found its offices, corridors, smells and civil servants pale, tasteless and drab. As a result, there are very few legal careers to choose from.I really don't know what I would have done if a professor of legal history hadn't offered me the opportunity to work under him.My choice, Gertrude said, was an escape from the challenges and responsibilities of life.She was right, I was running away, running away made me feel relieved.This choice of mine is not permanent, I say to her, and to myself.I was young, and after a few years of teaching legal history, I could still find a variety of affordable legal careers, but this became my permanent choice.With the first escape came the second escape, that is to say, I moved from the university to a research institution, where I searched and found a safe haven where I could do my favorite research in the history of law.There, I don't need anyone, and I don't bother anyone. As a result, not only did I not escape, but I got closer to the past.As a historian of law, the vividness of the past I have come into contact with is not inferior to real life.Outsiders might think that people can only observe the past and participate in the present, but this is not the case.To do historical research means to bridge the gap between the past and the present, to observe both, and to be active in between.One of the areas I study is Third Reich law, where the inextricability of past and present is especially evident in real life.Here, what people avoid is not the past, but the reality and the future, and people do not focus firmly on the reality and the future.People are ignorant of the historical heritage, that we are deeply imprinted with history, that we live in history. I get a sense of satisfaction when I'm immersed in history.Although it doesn't make much sense in reality, I still don't want to hide it.The first time I had this sense of satisfaction was when I was researching the Head Start Act and the Head Start Law draft.These laws were enacted because of the belief that the world would be a better place henceforth when there was good order.I am happy to see that out of this belief the articles for the maintenance of good order are drawn up, and that these articles become beautiful laws, which in turn will prove their truth by their beauty.It has long been my firm belief that, despite terrible regressions and setbacks, the law is ever more progressive, more beautiful, more true, more sane, more humane.Since I discovered that my beliefs were nothing more than illusions, my law has evolved in a very different way.Although this evolution has a purpose, the destination it reaches after all kinds of shocks, confusion and loss of reason is the starting point for another destination, but before reaching this new destination, it has to start all over again . I re-read the Odyssey at the time.I read this book in middle school, and as far as I can remember, it told the story of a returnee.However, it does not tell the story of a returnee.How could the Greeks, who believed that one cannot cross the same river again, believe in homecoming?Odysseus returns not to stay, but to start again. The Odyssey is the history of a movement that was purposeful and at the same time aimless, successful and futile at the same time.How is the history of law any different from this? Section 05 I started with The Odyssey.I reread it after Gertrude and I broke up.Many nights I could only sleep for a few hours, and I lay there awake.When I turn on the light and pick up a book, I can't keep my eyes open; and when I put the book aside and turn off the light, I can't sleep.This way I read aloud, and when I read aloud, I stop dozing off.When my mind is jumbled with memories and dreams, when pain is swirling in my head, when I am half asleep reflecting on my marriage, my daughter and my life, Han Na was always swaying me, so I just read to Hannah, and read to the tape recorder for Hannah. By the time I mailed the tapes I had recorded, months had passed.At first, I didn't want to send clips, I was waiting to finish recording the whole Odyssey.Afterwards, I wondered if Hannah was interested enough in The Odyssey.So, after recording The Odyssey, I recorded short stories by Schnitzler and Chekhov for her.Then, I bit the bullet and called the court where Hannah was tried, and found out where Hannah was serving her sentence.In the end, I had everything ready: the address of the prison where Hannah was serving her sentence - it was not far from the city where Hannah was tried and sentenced, a tape recorder and in the order Chihetian - Schnitzler - Homer Recorded tapes.In the end, I packed the tape recorder and tape into the mail and sent it to Hannah Recently, I found a notebook of the things I recorded for Hannah over the years.The first twelve entries were apparently recorded at the same time.At first, I probably just read on, and then I noticed that I couldn't remember what I had read without taking notes.In later entries, sometimes dated and sometimes undated, but, even without dates, I know that the first time the tape was sent to Hannah was the eighth year of her sentence, and the last was the eighteenth year .In the eighteenth year, her application for pardon was granted. I continued to read to Hannah, reading the books I was thinking about myself.While recording The Odyssey, I noticed that reading aloud wasn't as easy on my mind as reading it softly myself, and it got better.The disadvantage of reading aloud is that it lasts for a long time, but it is precisely because of this that it makes the reader deeply engrave the content in his mind.Some of the content is still fresh in my memory. I also read aloud works I already know and love.This allowed Hannah to hear a lot of Keller, Fontana, Heine and Merrick.For a long time, I didn't dare to read poetry aloud, but later, I couldn't get tired of it.I can recite a series of poems that I have read aloud and still catch them to this day. The bibliography recorded in that notebook testifies to the primitive confidence of the educated bourgeoisie.I don't remember, either, if it ever occurred to me that I didn't have to limit myself to Kafka, Frisch, Johnson, Bachmann, and Lenz and read some experimental literature, that is, I could neither figure out what the story was about nor Literary work that loves any of the characters in it.I think experimental literature is naturally about experimenting with readers, and neither Hannah nor I need that. When I started writing myself, I also took what I wrote and read it to her.I wait until after my manuscript has been dictated, and the typescript has been revised, and I have a feeling that it is completely done before I read it aloud.When reading aloud, I can find out whether my feelings are right or not.If it's not correct, I can start all over again, put!Remove the purpose and re-record.but.I don't like to do this, I want to finish it off by reading aloud.I put all my strength into it.All creative and critical imaginations were mobilized again for Hannah.After that, I sent the manuscript to the publisher. In the recording, I make no personal comments, I don't ask about Hannah, I don't tell about myself.I only read the title of the book, the name of the author and the content of the book.When the content is over, I will wait for a while, close the book, and press the stop button of the recorder. Section 06 When we were in our fourth year of chattering and saying nothing, she sent a greeting: "Last one was a great story, little one. Thanks, Hannah." The paper was lined, a neatly cut page torn from a notebook.Greetings are written at the top, occupying three lines, written with a blue ballpoint pen.Hannah wrote with such force that it printed on the back of the paper.The address is also written hard.This strip of paper folded from the middle can be seen from the upper and lower sides. At first glance one might think it's a kid's font, but a kid's font, while unskilled and not fluid, is not so hard.In order to turn straight lines into letters, and then letters into words, Hannah had to overcome all kinds of resistance.The child's hand can move around and change with the font.Hannah's hand moved in no direction, but it had to.It takes several strokes to write a letter, one stroke for upstroke, one stroke for downstroke, one stroke for arc, and one stroke for extension line.Each letter requires a new effort, and the result is still in and out, high and low. I read her greeting, and my heart was filled with joy: "She can write! She can write!" In those years, I read all the articles about illiteracy that I could find.I know how much they need help in finding their way, finding an address, or ordering food in a restaurant, how nervous they are when they follow established rules and traditional customs, how much they hide their inability to read and write. Taking great pains, they cannot live a normal life because of it.Illiteracy equals immaturity.Hannah summoned up the courage to learn to read and write, which marked that she had taken a step from adolescence to adulthood, a step out of ignorance. Then, I looked closely at Hannah's handwriting, and I saw how much labor she had put into it, and I was so proud of her.At the same time, I was sad for her, sad for a life that was late and missed, and sad for a life that was late and missed.I was thinking that if one misses the best time, if one rejects something for a long time, if one is rejected for something for too long, even if eventually one starts to put in the effort and enjoy it, then it is too late up.Maybe there is no question of "too late", but only "is it too late"?And, is "late" better than "never" anyway?I can't figure it out. After the first letter of greeting, I kept hearing from her.Always a few lines, or a thank you, or a blessing, or want to hear more of the same author, or don't want to hear it anymore, or to an author, a poem, a story, a novel Characters comment a few words, or see something in prison. "The forsythia is in bloom in the yard", or "I hope there will be more thunderstorms this summer", or "Looking out of the window, I see how the birds flock together and fly south".Often it was Hannah's descriptions that brought my attention to forsythias, summer thunderstorms, or birds congregating.Her reviews of literature are often surprisingly accurate: "Schnitzler is barking, Stefan Zweg is a dead dog", or Keller needs a woman", or "Goethe's poetry is like a mosaic A small painting in a pretty frame", or "Lenz must have written on a typewriter". As she knew nothing about the authors, she Think of them as contemporaries, and her comments are all premised on that. How much early literature actually reads like modern writing? I'm puzzled. People who don't know history are more able Seeing history clearly, the bystanders know clearly. I never wrote back to Hannah, but I read to her all the time.I stayed in the United States for a year, during which time I sent her tapes from the United States.When I'm on vacation or when I'm particularly busy, it can take longer to finish the next tape.I don't have a fixed cycle to send her tapes, maybe once a week, or once every two weeks, sometimes maybe every three or four weeks.Now that Hannah has learned to read and probably won't need my tapes anymore, I'm less anxious.Still, she probably likes me to read to her.Reading aloud is a way for me to talk to her. I have saved all her letters.Her handwriting has also changed. At first, she tried to write the letters neatly, but she was very uncomfortable. Later, she became more relaxed and confident. However, her handwriting never reached the level of proficiency, but reached a certain kind of rigorous beauty. It looks like the handwriting of an elderly person who seldom wrote in his life. Section 07 At the time, I never imagined that Hannah would one day get out of prison.The exchange of greetings and tapes was so normal and intimate, and Hannah was so at ease with me that I felt at once close at hand and at the same time far away, I could have allowed that to last.I know, it's comfortable, it's selfish. However, the female warden sent a letter: For several years, Ms. Smith has been in correspondence with you. This is the only contact between Ms. Smith and the outside world.So I can only turn to you, although I don't know how close you are to her, whether you are her relatives or friends. Next year Ms. Smith will make another application for pardon, and I think the pardon committee will grant her application.After eighteen years in prison, she will soon be released.Of course, we can find a house and a job for her, that is to say, we can try to find a house and a job for her.It will be difficult for her to find a job at her age, although she is still in good health, and although she is doing very well in our sewing factory, if relatives or friends worry about it, it will not be possible until she is released from prison. Then arrange her near them, accompany her, and let her have something to rely on, which is much better than us.You can't imagine how lonely and helpless a person will be after being imprisoned for eighteen years. Ms. Smith is very capable of taking care of herself.If you can find her a place to live and a job, visit her often for the first few weeks or months, invite her, and let her know about the opportunities offered by churches, part-time colleges, and home schooling agencies ,that's enough.In addition, it is not easy to go shopping in the city for the first time after 18 years, interview with the government department, or find a restaurant to eat. It is much easier to have company. I noticed that you have not visited Ms. Genmitz. If you do this, I shall not have to write to you, but shall take advantage of your visit to her to discuss the matter with you.Now there is no other way but to ask you to visit her before she is released from prison.Please take this opportunity to come with me. That letter ended with my heartiest greetings.The greeting did not make me feel that it was a heartfelt greeting to me, but it made me feel that this matter was a concern of the female warden.I've heard of her, her institution is considered highly unusual and her opinion carries weight on issues of prison law reform.I like her letters. However, I don't like what I'm facing.Of course, I had to find her a house, a job, and I did.Some friends were willing to let Hannah cheaply the small dwelling in the house that was neither used nor rented out.Occasionally I had my clothes altered by a Greek tailor who wanted to hire Hannah.Running the tailoring business with him is his sister, who has moved back to Greece.Long before Hannah was released from prison, I became concerned with the social welfare and educational opportunities offered by church and secular institutions.But I kept putting off visiting Hannah. It was precisely because Hannah was so comfortable with me that I felt so close at hand and so far away that I didn't want to visit her.I have a feeling she's going to say that she has the same physical distance from me as in the past.I'm afraid she'll say that the trivial, cryptic greetings and tapes are too contrived and hurtful, and that she must suffer so close to her.How can we ever be in touch again face to face without feeling sick at what happened between us in the interim? So the time passed, and I was almost long enough to not have to go to jail.I haven't heard anything from the warden for a long time.I had written a letter about the problems Hannah was going to face finding a house and a job for her, but I didn't get an answer.She was probably hoping to have a talk with me while I was visiting Hannah.How would she know that I was not only putting off this visit, but trying to avoid it.However, the decision to pardon Hannah has finally been approved, and Hannah is about to be released from prison.The female warden called me and asked if I could go over now.Within a week, she said, Hannah would be out. Section 08 I went to her place the following Sunday, my first prison visit.I was checked at the gate, and many doors were opened and shut as I went inside.However, the building is new and very bright.Inside, the doors were left open, and the female prisoners were free to come and go.At the end of the corridor there was a door that led out - a small lawn full of life, with trees and benches.I looked around for it.The female guard who showed me pointed to a bench in the shade of a nearby chestnut tree. Hannah?Is that woman on the stool Hannah?White hair, deep wrinkles, and a bulky body.She was wearing a light blue dress that was extremely tight at the bust, waist, and thighs, and she was holding a book with her hands on her knees.She wasn't reading the book, but was watching through the edge of her reading glasses another woman feeding sparrows with crumbs.Then, realizing someone was watching her, she turned her face to me. I saw the expectant look on her face when she recognized me, the gleam of joy on her face.When I approached her, she looked me up and down with questioning, unsure, and wronged eyes.我看到，她脸上的光彩逐渐消失了。当我走到她身边时，她对我友好地。疲惫地笑了笑："小家伙，你长大了。"我坐在她身边，她把我的手握在了她的手里。 以前，我特别喜欢她身上的气味。她闻上去总是那么清新，像刚洗过澡或刚洗过的衣服，像刚刚出过汗或刚刚做过爱。有时候，她也用香水，可我不知道是哪一种。就是她的香水闻上去也比所有其他的香水清新。在这种清新的气味下，还有另外一种气味，一种很浓重的说不清楚的酸涩味。我经常就像一只好奇的动物一样在她身上闻来闻去，从脖子和肩膀开始，闻那刚刚洗过的清新味，在她的两个乳房之间闻那清新的汗味，那汗味在腋窝处又和其他气味掺杂在一起，在腰部和腹部那种浓重的，说不上来的味道几乎是纯正的，在大腿之间还有一种令我兴奋的水果香味。我也在她的腿上和脚上闻来嗅去，到了小腿时，那种浓重味道就消失了，膝盖窝又稍微有点新出的汗味，脚上闻上去是香皂味或皮鞋味或身作疲惫不堪后的味道。后背和胳臂没有什么特别的味道，闻不出什么味道来，或者说闻上去还是她本身的味道。手上是白天工作的味道：车票的印刷墨、钳子的铁、洋葱、鱼，或者油腻、肥皂水或熨衣服的蒸气。如果她洗过了，手上起初什么味道也闻不出来。但是，只是香皂把各种味道覆盖住了罢了。过了一会儿，各种不明显的味道就又融会在一起卷土重来了：上班的，下班的，白天的，晚上的，回家的，在家的。 我坐在汉娜的身边，闻到的是一位老年妇女的味道。我不知道这味道是怎么形成的，这种味道我从祖母和老姨妈们那儿闻到过，或在养老院里——在那里，房间和走廊到处都是这种味道。不过，这种味道对汉娜来说未免太早了点。 我又往她身边靠近了些。我注意到，刚才我让她失望了。现在我想补救一下，做得更好些。 "你就要出来了，我很高兴。" "yes?" "是的。你将住在我的附近，我感到高兴。我告诉了她我已给她找到了房子和工作，给她讲了那个城区所具有的文化和社会生活，给她讲市图书馆的情况。"你看书看得多吗？ " "还可以，能听到朗读更好，"她看着我说，"现在结束了，对吧？" "为什么该结束了呢？"但是，我看上去就像既没有给她录过音，又没有与她见过面和为她朗读过似的。"你学会了读书，我的确很高兴，而且很佩服你，你给我写的信多好啊！"事实的确如此。、她学会了读写，她给我写信，我对此非常高兴，也非常佩服她，但是，我也感觉到，与汉娜在读写上所付出的努力相比，我的钦佩和欣慰是多么少，少得多么可怜。她的努力竟然没能促使我哪怕给她回一封信，去探望她一次，与她聊聊。我为汉娜营造了一个小小的生存环境，一个小小的空间，它给予我一些东西，我也可以为它做些事情，但是，它在我的生活中却没有占有哪怕是一席之地。 但是，我为什么要在我的生活中为她留有一席之地呢？为什么让汉娜生活在这个小空间里会让我感到问心有愧？我对自己产生这种自愧心感到气愤。"在法庭审理之前，你难道从未考虑过那些在法庭上讨论的问题吗？我是说，当我们在一起时，当我给你朗读时，你从未想过这些问题吗？" "你对此耿耿于怀？"但是，她并未等我回答就接着说，"我一直有种感觉，感到没有人理解我，没有人知道我是谁，我做过什么。你知道吗，如果没有人理解你，那么也就没有人有权力要求你做出解释说明，即使是法庭也无权要求我做解释说明。但是，那些死去的人却可以这样做，他们理解我，为此他们不必非得在场，但是，如果他们在的话，他们就更能理解我。在这监狱里，他们和我在一起的时候特别多，他们每天夜里都来，不管我是否想让他们来。在法庭审判之前，在他们想要来的时候，我还能把他们赶走。" 她在等着，看我是否想就此说点什么，但是，我却不知说什么为好。起初，我想说，我无法赶走任何东西。然而，那不符合事实，因为当一个人为另一个人营造一个小小生存环境时，他实际上就是赶他走。 "你结婚了吗？" "我结过婚。葛特茹德和我已经离婚多年了。我们的女儿住在寄宿学校，我希望她在最后的这几年不要住在那儿了，最好搬到我这儿来往。"现在轮到我等着了，看她是否想就此说点什么，或问些什么。但是，她沉默不语。"我下周来接你，好吗？" "好。 "是悄悄地，还是热闹一点地？" "悄悄地。" "好吧，我就悄悄地来接你，不放音乐，不喝香槟酒。" 我站了起来，她也站了起来。我们相互凝视着。已经响过两次铃了，其他女囚犯都已经进了屋。她的目光又在上下打量我的脸，我拥抱了她，但她换上去有些不对劲。 "小家伙，好自为之。" "你也应如此。" 就这样，我们在不得不分手之前就告别了。 第09节 接下来的那一周特别忙碌，我已记不得了这是由于我要做一篇报告而时间压力特大．还是由于工作压力，或者成就压力的缘故。 写那份报告的最初想法一点没用上。在开始修改报告时我发现，那些我原以为有普遍意义和从中可能归纳出规律的地方全都一个接一个地变成了偶然的案例。我不甘心接受这样的结果，我忙乱地、顽固地、不安地继续寻找着答案，好像我的现实现本身就荒谬。我已做好把检查结果进行歪曲、夸张或者大事化小、小事化了的准备。我陷入了一种特别的坐卧不安的状态，如果我很晚上床睡觉的话，尽管能入睡，但是过不了多久就又彻底地醒了，我只好再次起来继续阅读或者写作。 我也为汉娜的出狱做了一些准备。我为汉娜的房间里布置了宜家公司的家具，还配备了几件旧家具，把汉娜的情况告诉了那位希腊裁缝，带回了有关社会和教育活动方面的最新信息，买好了储备食品，在书架上摆好了图书，在墙上挂好了画。我还请了一位园艺工，清理了那个围抱客厅平台的小花园。我做这些时，也显得特别地忙乱和固执，这一切令我如负重负。 但是，这足以让我忙得没有时间去回想那次对汉娜的探望。只是有的时候，当我开车时，或疲惫地坐在写字台前时，或躺在床上睡不着时，或者在为汉娜准备的屋里时，记忆才会一泻千里，不可阻挡。我会看到她坐在长椅上，目光注视着我，看见她在游泳池里，脸向我这边张望着。那种背叛了她和愧对她的感觉就会再次涌上心头。但是，我又生气自己有这种感觉，并开始指责她，发现她悄悄地逃避了她应该承担的责任，这未免有点太便宜了。如果只有死人才有权要求她做出解释说明，如果可以把罪责用睡眠不好和做噩梦来搪塞了事的话，那么活人往哪儿摆？但是，我所指的活人不是指活下来的人，而是指我自己。我难道也没有权利要求她做说明解释吗？我算老几？ 下午，在我去接她之前，我给监狱打了电话。我先和女监狱长讲了话。 "我有点紧张。您知道，在通常情况下，一个人经过了这么多年的监禁之后，在没有尝试过在外界先呆上几个小时或几天以前，是不会让他出狱的。史密兰女士拒绝这样做。明天对她来说并非轻松。 我的电话被转到了汉娜那里。 "你考虑一下，我们明天都做什么，是想马上就回你的家，还是我们一起去森林或去河边？" "我会考虑的。你仍旧是个伟大的计划家，对吗广 这令我生气。我感到生气，因为这与其他女友偶尔对我的态度没有两样，这等于说我不够灵活，不能随机应变，大脑起的作用过多，而肚子没派上用场。 她注意到了我沉默不语是生气了，于是笑着说："小家伙，别生气，我没有什么恶意。" 我在长凳上又看到的汉娜已经是位老妇人了，她看上去、闻上去都像一位老妇人了，但是，我完全没有注意她的声音，她的声音听上去仍旧十分年轻。 Section 10 第二天早上，汉娜死了。她在黎明时分自缢了。 当我赶到时，我被带到了女监狱长那儿。我是第一次见到她，她又瘦又小，头发是深黄色的，戴着一副眼镜。在她没有开始说话之前看上去并不引人注目，但是，她说话却铿锵有力，热情洋溢，目光严厉，且精力充沛地挥舞着手臂。她问我昨天晚上的那次电话和一周前的那次会面。问我是否有预感和担忧，我做了否定的回答，我确实没有过预感和担忧，我没有隐瞒。 "你们是在哪认识的？" "我们住得很近。"她审视地看着我，我意识到我必须多说些，"我们住得很近，后来就相互认识并成了朋友，作为一名年轻的学生我旁听了对她的法庭审判。" "您为什么要给史密兰女士寄录音带？" I am silent. "您知道她是文盲，对吗？您是从哪儿知道的？" 我耸耸肩，看不出汉娜和我的故事与她有什么关系。我眼里含着泪水，喉头哽咽着，我害怕自己因此无法说话，我不想在她面前哭泣。 她看出了我所处的状态。"跟我来，我给您看一下史密芝女士的单人间。"她走在前面，不时地转过身来向我报告或解释一些事情。她告诉我哪里曾遭受过恐怖分子的袭击，哪里是汉娜曾工作过的缝纫室，哪里是汉娜曾静坐过的地方——直到削减图书馆资金的决定得到纠正为止，哪里可通向图书馆。在一个单人间的门前，她停了下来说："史密芝女士没有整理她的东西，您所看到的样子就是她在此生活时的样子。" 床、衣柜、桌子和椅子，桌子上面的墙上有一个书架，在门后的角落里是洗漱池和厕所，代替一扇窗户的是玻璃砖。桌子上什么东西都没有，书架上摆著书、一个闹钟、一个布熊、两个杯子、速溶咖啡、茶叶罐，还有录音机，在下面两层架子上摆放着我给她录制的录音带。 "这不是全部，"女监狱长追踪着我的目光说，"史密芝女士总是把一些录音带借给救援机构里的盲人刑事犯。" 我走近书架，普里莫·莱维、埃利·维厄琴尔、塔多西·波洛夫斯基、让·艾默里，除鲁道夫·赫斯的自传札记外，还有受害者文学、汉纳·阿伦特关于艾希曼在耶路撒冷的报道和关于集中营的科学文学。 "汉娜读过这些吗？" "不管怎么样，她是经过深思熟虑之后才订这些书的。好多年以前，我就不得不为她弄一本关于集中营的一般书目，一年或两年以前她又请求我给她提供关于集中营里的女人、女囚犯和女看守这方面书的书名。我给现代史所写过信，并收到了相应的特别书目。自从史密兰女士学会认字之后，她马上就开始读有关集中营的书籍。" 床头挂了许多小图片和纸条。我跪到了床上去读，它们或是一段文章的摘录，或是一首诗，或是一则短讯，或是汉娜抄录的食谱，或者从报纸杂志上剪裁下来的小图片。"春天让它蓝色的飘带在空中再次飘扬"，"云影在田野上掠过"。所有的诗歌都充满了对大自然的喜爱和向往，小图片上展现的是春意盎然的森林、万紫千红的草坪、秋天的落叶、一棵树。溪水旁的草地、一棵坠满了熟透果实的红樱桃树、一棵秋天的浅黄和桔黄的闪闪发光的栗子树。有一张从报纸上剪下来的照片，上面有一位老先生和一位穿着深色西装的年轻人在握手。我认出了那位给老先生鞠躬的年轻人就是我，那时我刚刚中学毕业，那是我在毕业典礼上接受校长授予的一个奖品，那是汉娜离开那座城市很久之后的事情了。她一个目不识丁的人当时就预订了那份登有那张照片的地方报纸了吗？无论如何为了进一步获悉并获得那张照片，她一定费了不少周折。在法庭审理期间，她就有那张照片了吗？她把它带在身边了吗？我的喉咙又哽咽了。 "她是跟您学会了认字。她从图书馆借来您为她在录音带上朗读的书，然后逐字逐句地与她所听到的进行对照。那台录音机因不能长久地承受一会儿往前转，一会儿往后倒带，一会儿暂停，一会儿放音，所以总是坏，总要修理。因为修理需要审批，所以，我最终明白了史密芝所做的事情。她最初不愿意说，但是，当她也开始写并向我申请笔和纸时，她再也不能掩饰了。她学会了读写，她简直为此而自豪，她要与人分享她的喜悦。" 当她讲这些时，我仍旧跪在那儿，目光始终注视着那些图片和小字条，尽力把眼泪咽了下去。当我转过身来坐在床上时，她说："她是多么希望您给她写信。她从您那儿只是收到邮包，每当邮件被分完了的时候，她都问：没有我的信？她是指信而不是指装有录音带的邮包。您为什么从不给她写信呢？" 我又沉默不语了。我已无法说话，只能结结巴巴，只想哭。 她走到书架前，拿下一个茶罐坐在我身边，从她的化妆包里掏出一张叠好的纸说："她给我留下一封信，类似一份遗嘱。我把涉及到您的地方念给您听。"她打开了那张纸读到："在那个紫色的菜罐里还有钱，把它交给米夏尔·白格；他应该把这些钱还有存在银行里的七千马克交给那位在教堂大火中和她母亲一起幸存下来的女儿。她该决定怎样使用这笔钱。还有，请您转告他，我向他问好。" 她没有给我留下任何信息。她想让我伤心吗？他要惩罚我吗？或者她的身心太疲惫不堪了，以至于她只能写下所有有必要做的事情？"她这些年来过得怎么样？"我需要等一会儿，直到我能继续说话，"她最后的日子怎样？" "许多年来，她在这儿的生活与修道院里的生活相差无几，就好像她是心甘情愿地隐退到这里，就好像她是心甘情愿地服从这里的规章制度，就好像这相当单调无聊的工作对她来说是一种反思。她总与其他女囚保持一定距离，她在她们中间享有很高威望。此外，她还是个权威，别人有问题时都要去向她讨主意和办法，争吵的双方都愿意听她的裁决。可是，几年前，她放弃了一切。在这之前，她一直注意保持体型，相对她强壮的身体来说仍旧很苗条，而且她干净得有点过分。后来，她开始暴饮暴食，很少洗澡。她变得臃肿起来，闻上去有种味道，但是，她看上去并非不幸福或者不满足。事实上，好像隐退到修道院的生活对她来说已经不够了，好像修道院本身的生活还太成群结队，还太多嘴多舌，好像她必须进一步隐退到修道院中一间孤独的小房间里去。在那里，没有人再会看到她，在那里，外貌、服装和体味不再具有任何意义了。不，说她自暴自弃是不妥的，她重新确定了她的地位，而且采取的是只作用于自己，不施及他人的方式。" "那么她最后的日子呢？" "她还是老样子。" "我可以看看她吗？" 她点点头，却仍！日坐着，"在经历了多年孤独生活后，世界就变得如此让人难以忍受吗？一个人宁愿自杀也不愿意从修道院，从隐居处再一次回到现实世界中去吗？"她转过脸来对我说："史密芝没有写她为什么要自杀。您又不说你俩之间的往事，不说是什么导致史密芝女士在您要来接她出狱的那天黎明时分自杀了。"她把那张纸叠在一起装好，站了起来，把裙子弄平整。"她的死对我是个打击，您知道，眼下我很生气，生史密芝女士的气，生您的气。但是，我们还是走吧。" 她还是走在前面，这一次，一言不发。汉娜躺在病房里的一间小屋子里。我们刚好能在墙和担架之间站下脚。女监狱长把那块布揭开了。 汉娜的头上绑着一块布，为了使下额在进入僵硬状态后仍能被抬起来。她的面部表情既不特别宁静，也不特别痛苦。它看上去就是僵硬的死人。当我久久地望着她时，那张死亡的面孔变活了，变成了它年轻时的样子。我在想，这种感觉在老夫老妻之间才会产生。对她来说，老头子仍旧保持了年轻时的样子，而对他来说，美丽妩媚的年轻妻子变老了。为什么在一周之前我没有看出这些呢？ 我一定不要哭出来。过了一会儿，当女监狱长审视地望着我时，我点点头，她又把那块布盖在了汉娜的脸上。