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莫里斯·布朗肖（Maurice Blanchot），20世纪法国著名作家、思想家、小说家，1907年生于索恩-卢瓦尔，2003年逝世于巴黎。布朗肖一生行事低调，中年后不接受采访和摄影，但他的作品和思想影响了整个法国当代思想界，对法国许多大知识分子和大作家如乔治‧巴塔耶、列维纳斯、萨特、福柯、罗兰‧巴特、德里达等都影响深远。 1955年，布朗肖出版了文学批评专著《文学空间》。在该专著中，作者通过分析马拉美、卡夫卡的作品，探讨了写作是什么，文学是什么，构成文学的“力量”或者说“文学空间”是什么等理论课题，他认为写作就是寻求作为“作品”的某种东西成为可能的那个时刻或那个点，文学空间就是死亡的空间。在寻求小说和评论的新途径中，作者表达了一种极限体验，即把死亡设想为“终极的绝对考验”的体验，对后来法国的意指学派、日内瓦学派和社会学批评学派等的文学批评均产生了一定的影响。 主要作品：《文学空间》《未来之书》《无限的谈话》《等待，遗忘》《黑暗的托马斯》等 文艺学读书笔记 文学空间 The Space And Literature [法]莫里斯·布朗肖 著 顾嘉琛 译 商务印书馆 2003 Maurice Blanchot Translated, with an Introduction, by Ann Smock University of Nebraska Press Lincoln, London 1989. 第一章 根本的孤独 Chapter1 The Essential Solitude 布朗肖首先指出，作品的孤独使得作品不是完成的或者未完成的。作家写作了一本书，但书本不是作品，作品也不属于作者，作品召唤作者不停地表达。作家好像可以主宰他的笔，但是这种控制仅仅在作家保持与固有的被动性的联系时才是成功的。而在这种被动性中，词语只是它的表象和某个词的影子，因此，词语是无法被控制、也是不可把握的。写作是永无止境、永不停歇的。卡夫卡说，当作家用“他”来代替“我”，就走进了文学。布朗肖同意这个说法，同时他指出改变是更深刻的，作家属于某种谁也不说的语言，这语言没有中心，不针对任何人，也不揭露任何东西。作家可能认为他用这种语言肯定自己，但是他所肯定的东西已完全被剥夺了自身。凡是作家所在的地方，惟有存在在说话。 The solitude of the work 作品的孤独使得作品不是完成的或者未完成的，孤独是无证据的，不可验证的。（The solitude of the work has as its primary framework the absence of any defining criteria. This absence makes it impossible ever to declare the work finished or unfinished. The work is without any proof, just as it is without any use.） 书本（the book）和作品（the work）的关系 ——The writer writes a book, but the book is not yet the work. There is a work only when, through it, and with the violence of a beginning which is proper to it, the word being is pronounced. This event occurs when the work becomes the intimacy between someone who writes it and someone who reads it. The impossibility of reading（writer and work ） ——It is not the force of an interdict, but, through the play and the sense of words, the insistent, the rude and poignant affirmation that what is there, in the global presence of a definitive text, still witholds itself -- the rude and biting void of refusal -- or excludes, with the authority of indifference, him who, having written it, yet wants to grasp it afresh by reading it.（并非是一种禁止的力量，而是，通过词语的手法和意思所体现那种坚持不懈的、生硬的和令人揪心的表示，即那种整体出现在定稿文本中的东西，它却拒绝接受自己，成为那种生硬的、尖锐的拒绝的空无，或是，以毫不在乎的态度排斥那个写成作品后欲想通过阅读再次把它重新更改的人。） The writer's solitude, that condition which is the risk he runs, seems to come from his belonging, in the work, to what always precedes the work. Through him, the work comes into being; it constitutes the resolute solidity of a beginning. But he himself belongs to a time ruled by the indecisiveness inherent in beginning over again. Tyrannical Prehension The writer seems to be the master of his pen; he can become capable of great mastery over words and over what he wants to make them express. But his mastery only succeeds in putting him, keeping him in contact with the fundamental passivity where the word, no longer anything but its appearance -- the shadow of a word -- never can be mastered or even grasped. It remains the ungraspable which is also unreleasable: the indecisive moment of fascination.（但是，这种控制只是成功地使作家同那种固有的被动性建立接触并保持接触，在这种被动性中，由于词语仅只是它的表象和某个词的影子，它是永远无法被控制住的，也无法把握，它始终是不可把握的，无法把握的，是令人迷惑的模糊时光。） The work is never that in anticipation of which one can write (in prospect of which one would relate to the process of writing as to the exercise of some power).【作品从来都不是人们为此可能要写作的那东西（人们所追求的，也许同正在写的东西相关，如同正在行使某种权力那样）。】 The Interminable, the Incessant To write is, moreover, to withdraw language from the world, to detach it from what makes it a power according to which, when I speak, it is the world that declares itself, the clear light of day that develops through tasks undertaken, through action and time.（写作是使语言脱离世界的流程，使语言从把它变成某种权力的东西中摆脱出来，而正是通过这种权力，当我说话时，是世界在自言自语，是每日通过劳作、活动和时间在构建起来。） Writing is the interminable, the incessant. The writer, it is said, gives up saying "I." Kafka remarks, with surprise, with enchantment, that he has entered into literature as soon as he can substitute "He" for "I." This is true, but the transformation is much more profound. The writer belongs to a language which no one speaks, which is addressed to no one, which has no center, and which reveals nothing. He may believe that he affirms himself in this language, but what he affirms is altogether deprived of self. To the extent that, being a writer, he does justice to what requires writing, he can never again express himself, any more than he can appeal to you, or even introduce another's speech. Where he is, only being speaks -- which means that language doesn't speak any more, but is. It devotes itself to the pure passivity of being.（写作就是永无止境，永不停歇。有人说，作家放弃说“我”。卡夫卡曾惊讶地、满怀喜悦地指出，当他能用“他”来替代“我时，就走进了文学。确实如此，不过这个改变要深刻得多。作家属于某种谁也不说的语言，这语言也不针对任何人，它没有中心，它不吐露任何东西。作家可能认为他用这种语言肯定自己，但是他所肯定的东西已完全被剥夺了自身。当作家公正地对待正写着的东西时，他再也无法表达自己，他也无法更多地求助于你，也无法让他人来说话。凡是作家所在的地方，惟有存在在说话，这意味着话语不再说话，而是存在着，把自身献给了存在的纯粹的被动性。） In the effacement toward which he is summoned, the "great writer" still holds back; what speaks is no longer he himself, but neither is it the sheer slipping away of no one's word. For he maintains the authoritative though silent affirmation of the effaced "I." He keeps the cutting edge, the violent swiftness of active time, of the instant.（在他被召唤的消失中，“伟大的作家”仍然退缩；说话的不再是他自己，也不是任何人的话语的完全消失。因为他保持着对被抹去的“我”的权威的，虽然是无声的肯定。他从积极的时间，从瞬间中保留着犀利和迅猛。） 【中文版第九页，感觉翻译有问题】 Then literature has the glorious solitude of reason, that rarefied life at the heart of the whole which would require resolution and courage if this reason were not in fact the stability of an ordered aristocratic society; that is, the noble satisfaction of a part of society which concentrates the whole within itself by isolating itself well above what sustains it.（文学便有了理性的光荣孤独，这是一种在需要决心和勇气的整体之中的罕见生活，倘若这种理性实际上并不是有条不紊的贵族社会的平衡的话，也就是说是社会中一部分人的高贵的自我满足，这部分人在自身集中了整体，又孤傲地凌驾在他赖以生存的东西之上。） What speaks in him is the fact that, in one way or another, he is no longer himself; he isn't anyone any more. The third person substituting for the "I": such is the solitude that comes to the writer on account of the work. It does not denote objective disinterestedness, creative detachment. It does not glorify consciousness in someone other than myself or the evolution of a human vitality（活力） which, in the imaginary space of the work of art, would retain the freedom to say "I." The third person is myself become no one, my interlocutor turned alien; it is my no longer being able, where I am, to address myself and the inability of whoever addresses me to say "I"; it is his not being himself. Recourse to the "Journal" the truth of the journal lies not in the interesting, literary remarks to be found there, but in the insignificant details which attach it to daily reality. The journal represents the series of reference points which a writer establishes in order to keep track of himself when he begins to suspect the dangerous metamorphosis to which he is exposed. （日记的真实性并不在日记中所含的有趣的、文学的看法之中，而是在把日记同日常生活的现实连结起来的无足轻重的小事中。当作家预感他面临的危险的变幻时，日记便体现为一系列作家为认识自我而建立起的标记。） The journal indicates that already the writer is no longer capable of belonging to time through the ordinary certainty of action, through the shared concerns of common tasks, of an occupation, through the simplicity of intimate speech, the force of unreflecting habit. He is no longer truly historical; but he doesn't want to waste time either, and since he doesn't know anymore how to do anything but write, at least he writes in response to his everyday history and in accord with the preoccupations of daily life. It happens that writers who keep a journal are the most literary of all, but perhaps this is precisely because they avoid, thus, the extreme of literature, if literature is ultimately the fascinating realm of time's absence.（日记表明，写日记的人已无法通过一般的行为的坚定性，通过共同的努力，共同的职业，通过内在深处话语的简洁和思索的力量而属于时间。他已不再是真正历史的了，但他又不愿意浪费时光，由于他不会别的只会写作，因此他便在自己每日历史的要求下，同日复一日的操心之事保持协调的情况下写作。有时，写日记的作家是各类作家中最具有文学色彩的，但也许正因为他们这样才避开了文学的极端性——倘若说文学确实就是时间不在场的有诱惑力的领域的话。） The Fascination of Time's Absence The time of time's absence has no present, no presence. This "no present" does not, however, refer back to a past. The time of time's absence is not dialectical.（辩证的、辩证法的） In time's absence what is new renews nothing; what is present is not contemporary; what is present presents nothing, but represents itself and belongs henceforth and always to return. It isn't, but comes back again. It comes already and forever past, so that my relation to it is not one of cognition, but of recognition, and this recognition ruins in me the power of knowing, the right to grasp. It makes what is ungraspable inescapable; it never lets me cease reaching what I cannot attain. And that which I cannot take, I must take up again, never to let go.（在时间的不在场中，新的东西并不能更新任何东西；现时的东西是不适时的；现时的东西并不表达任何东西，它是自身的再出现，它已经并永远地属于回归。这些东西并不存在，但它回来，它如同已经并永远过去的东西那样来临，以致我不认识它，但我认出了它，而这种再认识在我身上毁了认识的能力，把握的权利，它还把不可把握的东西变成不可放弃的东西，变成我无法停止去追求的难以理解的东西，即我无法取得，而仅仅是重新取得——和永远不能放弃的东西。P.13） When I am alone, the light of day is only the loss of a dwelling place. It is intimacy with the outside which has no location and affords no rest. Coming here makes the one who comes belong to dispersal, to the fissure（裂缝n.） where the exterior is the intrusion（闯入、入侵n.） that stifles（扼杀、窒息v.）, but is also nakedness, the chill（寒冷n.） of the enclosure that leaves one utterly exposed. Here the only space is its vertiginous（眩晕的、眼花的） separation. Here fascination reigns（支配、统治v.）.（凡是我独自一人之处，日子仅仅只是逗留的丧失，即同无地点无闲息的外界的亲密相处。来到此处使来者属于分散，属于裂缝，在那里外界是那种令人窒息的潜入者，是人们在其中始终无遮掩的那东西的裸露，寒冷；在那里空间是留出空隙的眩晕。诱惑力便始于此。P.14） The Image If our childhood fascinates us, this happens because childhood is the moment of fascination, is itself fascinated. And this golden age seems bathed in a light which is splendid because unrevealed. But it is only that this light is foreign to revelation, has nothing to reveal, is pure reflection, a ray which is still only the gleam of an image. Perhaps the force of the maternal figure receives its intensity from the very force of fascination, and one might say then, that if the mother exerts this fascinating attraction it is because, appearing when the child lives altogether in fascination's gaze, she concentrates in herself all the powers of enchantment. It is because the child is fascinated that the mother is fascinating, and that is also why all the impressions of early childhood have a kind of fixity which comes from fascination.（我们的童年诱惑着我们，这样的事会发生，因为童年是诱人的岁月，童年自身也被诱惑，这黄金时代似沐浴在灿烂的光辉中，因为这光辉不曾显露过，它同显露无关，也无可显露，这是纯净的反射，只是某形象光彩的光芒。也许，母亲形象的力量是从诱惑人的力量本身汲取光辉，我们也许可以说，如果说母亲发出这诱人的魅力，那因为当孩子始终在令人着迷的目光下长大时，母亲在自身会聚了令人欣喜的全部魅力。正因为孩子着了迷，母亲是诱惑力的，因此，年幼时的各种印象具有某种属于诱惑的固定的东西。P.16） Fascination is fundamentally linked to neutral, impersonal presence, to the indeterminate They, the immense, faceless Someone. Fascination is the relation the gaze entertains -- a relation which is itself neutral and impersonal -- with sightless, shapeless depth, the absence one sees because it is blinding. Writing To write is to enter into the affirmation of the solitude in which fascination threatens. It is to surrender to the risk of time's absence, where eternal starting over reigns. It is to pass from the first to the third person, so that what happens to me happens to no one, is anonymous insofar（在这个范围内、到这个限度adv.） as it concerns me, repeats itself in an infinite dispersal. To write is to let fascination rule language. It is to stay in touch, through language, in language, with the absolute milieu where the thing becomes image again, where the image, instead of alluding（暗指、拐弯抹角提到vi.） to some particular feature, becomes an allusion（暗示、提及n.） to the featureless, and instead of a form drawn upon absence, becomes the formless presence of this absence, the opaque（不透明物；不透明的）, empty opening onto that which is when there is no more world, when there is no world yet.（写作，就是去肯定有着诱惑力威胁的孤独。就是投身于时间不在场的冒险中去，在那里，永无止境的重新开始是主宰。就是从“我”进入“他”，以致我所遭遇的东西，任何人都不会遭遇到，它是隐名的，因为这同我有关，并在无限的分散中重复。写作，就是从魅力的角度来支配言语，并且通过言语，在言语之中同绝对领域保持接触，在这领域里，事物重新成为形象，在那里，形象，从对象的暗示成为对无形的暗示，并且，从对不在场描绘的形式变成这个不在场的不成形的在场，成为当不再有世界，当尚未有世界时对存在着的东西的不透明和空无的敞开。） 分享人｜机械快乐
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