Flannelled Fool

出版者:Hogarth

作者:T C Worsley

页数:0

出版时间:1985

价格:0

装帧:Paperback

isbn号码:9780701205904

作者简介

Born in Durham, Britain, his father, F. W. Worsley, was a minor county cricketer and a keen athlete. He became a vicar in a Lincolnshire village until he got the nursery maid pregnant and was forced out of his post. F. W. Worsley then went with his family to Durham and T. C Worsley was born at this time. The family moved on to Cambridge. T. C. Worsley had two older brothers John and James, an older sister Mary, and a younger brother Benjamin (apart from any other children sired outside the marriage).

T. C. Worsley went to the Llandaff Cathedral school and then on to Marlborough. Following this he went to St John's College, Cambridge University where he read classics, but he also continued to do well in sports. He shared a room with a student who had also come up from Marlborough and had been given the nickname Bacchus because of his handsome Greek profile. T. C. Worsley was very devoted to him even when Bacchus was going out with a girl.

In 1929 he became an assistant master at Wellington College where he stayed for five years. He then did some private tutoring and was also briefly at Gordonstoun School until arguments with the head, Kurt Hahn, led to them throwing books at each other. He then worked mostly as a freelance writer and wrote theatrical reviews.

In 1937, his friend Stephen Spender was commissioned by the communist newspaper the Daily Worker to investigate the rumour that the Russian ship the Komsomol had been sunk by the Italians. He took T. C. Worsley with him and they flew to Spain and travelled on the fringes of the Spanish civil war to Barcelona, Alicante, and Catalonia. Their investigations also took them to Gibraltar, Tangier, and Oran. They also visited Marrakesh. When back in Barcelona they soon realised that they wanted to help the war effort as soon as they could. Within a few weeks T. C. Worsley had joined a blood-transfusion unit in which he later looked after the sick and wounded in the retreat from Malaga.

In the Autumn of 1938 the left-wing monthly Fact commissioned an article on education, and T. C. Worsley collaborated with W. H. Auden on it. However, Fact rejected the resulting article, but it was accepted by John Lehmann who had it published by the Hogarth Press in March 1939 as a pamphlet entitled Education Today and Tomorrow. In 1939 he joined the staff of the New Statesman.

In 1940 he responded to the call for men to join the RAF as an intelligence officer but he found that he was rejected because he worked on the New Statesman and had been to Spain. However Harold Nicolson who was an Under-Secretary at the Ministry of War sorted the matter out, although T. C. Worsley was given an unsatisfying job as a education officer with the Initial Training Wing, starting at Torquay Training Command. He was later discharged after suffering psychological stress. He underwent psychiatric analysis and had an unsuccessful attempt at marriage.

In 1946 Worsley rejoined the New Statesman as literary editor and drama critic. He became a close friend of Terence Rattigan and defended his work, at a time when it was unpopular, in a long article in the London Magazine. T. C. Worsley spent winter breaks in Terence Rattigan's house in Bermuda and summer holidays in Ischia.

In June 1948 Christopher Isherwood and Don Bachardy stayed with T. C. Worsley after they had been to the Aldeburgh Festival. In 1956 T. C. Worsley introduced Christopher Isherwood to Terence Rattigan After a breakdown in health T. C. Worsley moved to the Financial Times in 1958, first as a drama critic, but in 1964 emphysema forced him to give up the theatre and from then on he wrote a weekly article on television for the newspaper. He also took part in the BBC radio programme series The Critics.

In 1972 he retired because of his ill health. In the same year he received the IPC award as Critic of the Year. He put most of his capital into a boat which he had visions of living in on the Mediterranean coast, but the boat developed a series of faults and had to be abandoned in Arles until it was sailed back and sold at a loss.

He spent his last years at various places around Sussex with his long-term friend John Luscombe until they moved into a flat overlooking the sea at Brighton, that had been paid for anonymously. He died in Brighton, after taking an overdose when his emphysema meant that simply breathing became too much for him.

用户评价

这本书的开篇就将我带入了一个极其幽闭且压抑的环境，仿佛置身于一个弥漫着陈旧木材和灰尘气味的阁楼里。作者对细节的捕捉近乎偏执，你甚至能感受到光线穿过污浊玻璃窗时那种微弱的、颤动的质感。主人公的内心独白极其复杂，充满了对自身处境的深刻反思，但这种反思并非线性的，而是像破碎的镜片一样散落在不同的时间维度里。我尤其欣赏作者在描绘那种“等待”的心态时所使用的意象，比如一只停滞不动的时钟，或者花园里永远不会盛开的花朵。这种叙事手法使得读者很难明确事件的起因和结果，更多的是沉浸于一种持续的、无名的焦虑之中。那种感觉就像是，你一直在追逐一个看不见的影子，每当你以为要抓住它时，它又倏忽而逝，只留下空气中一丝若有似无的凉意。故事的节奏缓慢得近乎折磨人，但正是这种缓慢，让角色的每一个细微的情绪波动都被无限放大，最终汇集成一股强大的、令人窒息的心理暗流。阅读过程中，我时常需要停下来，不仅仅是为了喘口气，更是为了理清思绪，消化那些潜藏在日常琐碎对话之下的巨大张力。整本书弥漫着一种对“徒劳”的深刻探讨，让人不禁思考，我们生命中那些看似重要的坚持，究竟是为了什么。

这本书的结构简直是一场精妙的迷宫设计。它没有遵循传统小说的线性发展，反而采用了多重叙事视角，而且这些视角之间的切换极其突然，没有任何过渡性的标志。你以为你正在跟随A的脚步，下一秒，视角就跳跃到了一个完全不相关的B的日记碎片中，这种错位感带来的冲击力非常强。我尤其喜欢作者在语言上的那种破碎感和韵律感。有些段落的句子极短，如同心跳的急促停顿，而有些段落则像是巴洛克式的长句，充满了复杂的从句和修饰，像藤蔓一样层层叠叠地缠绕住核心意义。这种语言风格的巨大反差，成功地模拟了角色精神状态的不稳定。更妙的是，作者似乎故意在关键情节处留白，留给读者巨大的想象空间。比如，书中某次重要的“会面”，全文只用了寥寥几句描述，但那几句却比一千字的详尽描写更令人不安。这迫使读者必须从先前散落的线索中自行拼凑出那缺失的图景，这个过程充满了智力上的挑战，但也极大地增强了阅读的参与感。这本书不是被动接受的故事，而是一场需要主动参与构建体验的智力游戏。

从文学技巧上来说，这本书对“场景”的描绘达到了令人发指的精准度。它描绘的不是简单的背景，而是作为角色的延伸和命运的投射。例如，那个贯穿全书的“被雨水浸透的庭院”，它不仅是一个物理空间，更像是角色内心积压已久、无法排解的悲伤的具象化。作者对光影的运用简直是大师级的，很多时候，角色和环境的边界变得模糊不清，你分不清是角色被环境吞噬了，还是环境被角色的情绪所渗透。我特别关注了角色之间的对话部分，那些对话充满了未尽之意和反讽，很多时候，角色说的“是”，实际上表达的是“否”，而这种语言上的悖论，恰恰是人物关系紧张的根源。这种“言不由衷”的交流方式，使得人际关系的描绘显得既真实又疏离。这本书不是关于“发生了什么”，而是关于“感觉如何发生”以及“沉默中蕴含了多少信息”。它是一次对人与环境之间复杂纠葛的深刻、痛苦且美丽的探索。

我必须承认，这本书的阅读门槛非常高，它绝对不是那种可以轻松消遣的作品。它更像是一块未经打磨的矿石，需要读者投入极大的耐心和专注力去发掘其中的价值。故事中充斥着大量隐晦的典故和象征性的物件，它们并非为了炫耀学识，而是作为某种情绪的锚点。比如反复出现的“生锈的钥匙”和“被遗忘的乐谱”，它们各自承载了不同的失落和未竟的使命。作者似乎在刻意挑战读者的耐心，故意拖延关键信息的释放，直到你几乎要放弃寻找答案的时候，才抛出一个模棱两可的提示。这种写作方式，无疑会劝退一部分读者，但对于那些愿意深入挖掘的人来说，每一次“顿悟”都显得尤为珍贵。它提供了一种智力上的满足感，让你觉得自己确实“破解”了某种密码，而不是被动地接收信息。这是一部需要反复重读，并且每次重读都会有新发现的作品，它的深度随着读者的生命体验而不断变化。

这部作品的氛围营造达到了一个令人惊叹的、近乎炼金术般的境界。它不仅仅是“黑暗”或者“忧郁”，而是一种特定类型的“晦暗”。作者大量使用感官剥夺和感官过载的技巧。你几乎闻不到任何气味，听不见任何明确的声音，但你却能清晰地“感觉”到墙壁的冰冷，或者地板在你脚下发出的那种微弱的、令人毛骨悚然的吱呀声。这种对非视觉感官的强调，极大地拓宽了阅读的维度。其中关于“记忆的腐蚀”那几章，写得尤为出色。角色试图回忆某件至关重要的事情，但每次回忆都会出现新的、矛盾的细节，仿佛记忆本身就是一个不断自我修改的、不靠谱的文本。这种对“真相”的相对性和不可靠性的探索，让我联想到了某些后现代主义的哲学探讨，但作者将其完全融入了人物的情感挣扎之中，避免了枯燥的说教。我几乎能感受到角色在试图抓住那些正在从指缝间溜走的过去时的那种绝望的徒劳感，这是一种非常高级的心理恐怖。