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Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet 是美國作家Jamie Ford（杰米·福特）写的第一本小说，使他一举成名。这本书被翻译成35种语言，在全球各地都受到了好评。Jamie 其他的作品还有Songs of Willow Frost和 Love and Other Consolation Prizes等。
在本书的开头，美籍华裔男孩Henry在Panama Hotel里找到了当年居住在那里的日本人的遗物。为了纪念自己跟Keiko的那段凄美的感情，Henry试图寻找并保留Keiko家的物品。其中最重要的一件物品是Jazz Band的唱片，小学时Henry曾邀请Keiko与他一起听过一场爵士音乐会。他们从黑人萨克斯手Sheldon那里拿到了一张唱片，Henry坚持让Keiko保留这张唱片。后来Henry发现唱片还很新，说明Keiko非常珍惜这件物品。本篇节选中Henry的儿子Marty在知道父亲和Keiko这段情感的来龙去脉后，说服Henry去找Keiko。最后Henry在纽约城找到了Keiko，还意外地在她家里看到了她在Minidoka集中营时画的一张他们两人的肖像画。故事以Henry从好友Sheldon那里学来的一句日语结束：“Oai deki te ureshii desu.”（你今天怎么样？）
Henry walked home. It was probably more than two miles， up South King and around toward Beacon Hill， overlooking the International District. It would have been much easier to drive， even with the traffic， but he just felt like walking. He’d spent his childhood canvassing（仔细查看）this neighborhood， and with each step he tried to recall what used to be. As he walked， he crossed over to South Jackson， looking at the buildings that used to be home to the Ubangi Club， the Rocking Chair， even the Black Elks Club. Holding that broken record at his side， now looking at generic storefronts for Seafirst Bank and All West Travel， he tried to remember the song he’d once played over and over in his head.
It was all but gone. He could remember a bit of the chorus（副歌）， but its melody had escaped. Yet he couldn’t forget her， couldn’t forget Keiko. And how he’d once told her he’d wait for a life time. Every summer he’d thought of her but never spoke of her to anyone， not even Ethel（Henry的妻子）. And of course， telling Marty had been out of the question. So when his impetuous（鲁莽的）son had wanted so badly to go to the Puyallup Fair each year， and Henry had said no， there was a reason. A painful reason. One that Henry shared with almost no one but Sheldon， on the rare occasion when his old friend would bring it up. And now Sheldon would be gone soon too. Another former resident of a small community in Seattle that no one remembered anymore. Like ghosts haunting a vacant lot（空地）because the building had long since vanished.
At home， exhausted from the long walk along the dirty， littered streets， Henry hung up his jacket， went to the kitchen for a glass of iced tea， and drifted to the bedroom he’d once shared with Ethel.
To his surprise， on his bed was his best suit. Set out like it had been all those years ago. His old black leather dress shoes had been polished and placed on the floor next to an old suitcase of his. For a moment， Henry felt fifteen again， in that old Canton Alley apartment he’d shared with his parents. Looking at the tools of a traveler bound for ports unknown. A future far away. Mystified（困惑的）， Henry felt the hair on the back of his neck prick up（竖起）as he turned back the lapel（西服上的翻领）of his suitcoat and saw， like a mirage（幻想）， a ticket jacket（票夹）in his breast pocket. Sitting on the edge of the bed， he pulled it out and opened it up. Inside was a round-trip ticket to New York City. It wasn’t to Canton but to another faraway land. A place he’d never been.
“I guess you found my little present.” Marty stood in the doorway， holding his father’s hat， the one with the threadbare brim（磨破的帽檐）.
“Most children just send their aged parents to a nursing home， you’re sending me to the other side of the country，”Henry said.
“More than that， Pops， I’m sending you back in time.”
Henry looked at the suit， thinking about his own father. He knew only one person who had ever talked about New York， and she’d never come back. She’d left a long time ago. Back in another lifetime.
“You sending me back to the war years？” Henry asked.
“I’m sending you back to find what’s missing. Sending you back to find what you let go. I’m proud of you， Pops， and I’m grateful for everything， especially for the way you cared for Mom. You’ve done everything for me， and now it’s my turn to do something for you.”
Henry looked at the ticket.
“I found her， Pops. I know you were always loyal to Mom， and that you’d never do this for yourself. So I did it for you. Pack your suitcase. I’m taking you to the airport； you’re leaving for New York City…”
“When？” Henry asked.
“Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever. You got someplace else you gotta be？”
Henry drew out a tarnished（生銹的）silver pocket watch. It kept poor time and required frequent winding（上发条）. He flipped（打开）it open， sighed heavily， then snapped it shut.
The last time someone had laid out a suit and a pair of dress shoes with a ticket purchased for a faraway place， Henry had refused to go.
This time， Henry refused to stay.
New York（1986）
Henry had never been to New York City. Oh， sure， maybe once or twice in a dream. But in full， waking reality， it was a place he’d thought of often over the years but never allowed himself to visit. It seemed a world away. Not just across the country or on another coast， but someplace beyond the horizon， lost in another time.
In the forty-dollar cab ride from La Guardia Airport， Henry held the complete Oscar Holden（西雅图爵士乐创始人之一）record on his lap. It had been played at Sheldon’s funeral. The same one he had hand-carried on the plane from Seattle—his one piece of carry-luggage， a conversation piece everywhere he went. When he explained where the record came from， its unique history， and the circumstances of life at the time， people always gushed（夸张地表现）their amazement. Even the young blond woman sitting next to him on the plane， who was flying to New York on business， couldn’t believe he was hand-carrying the only remaining playable copy. She’d forgotten how horribly cruel the Japanese internment（拘留）was. She was in awe of the Panama Hotel’s survival. A place of personal belongings， cherished memories， forgotten treasures.
“First time to the city？” the cabdriver asked. He’d been eyeing Henry in the rearview mirror（后视镜）， but his passenger was lost in thought， staring out the window at the brick-and-mortar（实体的，这里指真实的）landscape that rolled by. A nonstop ebb and flow（起伏）of yellow taxis， sleek limousines（造型优美的豪华轿车）， and pedestrians（行人）who swarmed the sidewalks.
“First time” was all Henry could manage to say. Marty and Samantha had wanted him to call first. To call ahead. But he couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone. He was too nervous. Like now.
“This is it， twelve hundred block of Waverly Place，” the driver called out； his arm， which hung out the open window， pointed to a small apartment building.
“This is Greenwich Village？”
“You’re looking at it， pal.”
Henry paid the driver an additional thirty dollars to take his bags one mile over to the Marriott， where he’d drop them off with the bellman（接待服务员）. A strange thought， trusting someone in the big city， Henry noted to himself. But that was what this trip was really about， wasn’t it？ Blind faith. And besides， he had nothing to lose. What were some luggage and a change of clothes compared with finding and fixing a broken heart？
The apartment building looked old and modest， but a flat there still probably cost a fortune compared with the simple home Henry had occupied in Seattle for the past forty years.
Looking at the address Marty had given to him， Henry went inside and found himself on the eighth floor， a Chinese lucky number. Standing in the hallway， he stared at the door of Kay Hatsune， a widow of three years. Henry didn’t know what had happened to her husband. If Marty knew， he hadn’t said.
Just that Kay was indeed…Keiko.
Henry looked at the record in his hand. When he took it partway out of the sleeve， the vinyl（唱片）looked impossibly new. She must have taken impeccable（無可挑剔的）care of it over the years.
Putting the record away， Henry straightened the line of the old twopiece suit his son had set out for him， checked his hair and the shine of his shoes.
在本书的开头，美籍华裔男孩Henry在Panama Hotel里找到了当年居住在那里的日本人的遗物。为了纪念自己跟Keiko的那段凄美的感情，Henry试图寻找并保留Keiko家的物品。其中最重要的一件物品是Jazz Band的唱片，小学时Henry曾邀请Keiko与他一起听过一场爵士音乐会。他们从黑人萨克斯手Sheldon那里拿到了一张唱片，Henry坚持让Keiko保留这张唱片。后来Henry发现唱片还很新，说明Keiko非常珍惜这件物品。本篇节选中Henry的儿子Marty在知道父亲和Keiko这段情感的来龙去脉后，说服Henry去找Keiko。最后Henry在纽约城找到了Keiko，还意外地在她家里看到了她在Minidoka集中营时画的一张他们两人的肖像画。故事以Henry从好友Sheldon那里学来的一句日语结束：“Oai deki te ureshii desu.”（你今天怎么样？）
Henry walked home. It was probably more than two miles， up South King and around toward Beacon Hill， overlooking the International District. It would have been much easier to drive， even with the traffic， but he just felt like walking. He’d spent his childhood canvassing（仔细查看）this neighborhood， and with each step he tried to recall what used to be. As he walked， he crossed over to South Jackson， looking at the buildings that used to be home to the Ubangi Club， the Rocking Chair， even the Black Elks Club. Holding that broken record at his side， now looking at generic storefronts for Seafirst Bank and All West Travel， he tried to remember the song he’d once played over and over in his head.
It was all but gone. He could remember a bit of the chorus（副歌）， but its melody had escaped. Yet he couldn’t forget her， couldn’t forget Keiko. And how he’d once told her he’d wait for a life time. Every summer he’d thought of her but never spoke of her to anyone， not even Ethel（Henry的妻子）. And of course， telling Marty had been out of the question. So when his impetuous（鲁莽的）son had wanted so badly to go to the Puyallup Fair each year， and Henry had said no， there was a reason. A painful reason. One that Henry shared with almost no one but Sheldon， on the rare occasion when his old friend would bring it up. And now Sheldon would be gone soon too. Another former resident of a small community in Seattle that no one remembered anymore. Like ghosts haunting a vacant lot（空地）because the building had long since vanished.
At home， exhausted from the long walk along the dirty， littered streets， Henry hung up his jacket， went to the kitchen for a glass of iced tea， and drifted to the bedroom he’d once shared with Ethel.
To his surprise， on his bed was his best suit. Set out like it had been all those years ago. His old black leather dress shoes had been polished and placed on the floor next to an old suitcase of his. For a moment， Henry felt fifteen again， in that old Canton Alley apartment he’d shared with his parents. Looking at the tools of a traveler bound for ports unknown. A future far away. Mystified（困惑的）， Henry felt the hair on the back of his neck prick up（竖起）as he turned back the lapel（西服上的翻领）of his suitcoat and saw， like a mirage（幻想）， a ticket jacket（票夹）in his breast pocket. Sitting on the edge of the bed， he pulled it out and opened it up. Inside was a round-trip ticket to New York City. It wasn’t to Canton but to another faraway land. A place he’d never been.
“I guess you found my little present.” Marty stood in the doorway， holding his father’s hat， the one with the threadbare brim（磨破的帽檐）.
“Most children just send their aged parents to a nursing home， you’re sending me to the other side of the country，”Henry said.
“More than that， Pops， I’m sending you back in time.”
Henry looked at the suit， thinking about his own father. He knew only one person who had ever talked about New York， and she’d never come back. She’d left a long time ago. Back in another lifetime.
“You sending me back to the war years？” Henry asked.
“I’m sending you back to find what’s missing. Sending you back to find what you let go. I’m proud of you， Pops， and I’m grateful for everything， especially for the way you cared for Mom. You’ve done everything for me， and now it’s my turn to do something for you.”
Henry looked at the ticket.
“I found her， Pops. I know you were always loyal to Mom， and that you’d never do this for yourself. So I did it for you. Pack your suitcase. I’m taking you to the airport； you’re leaving for New York City…”
“When？” Henry asked.
“Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever. You got someplace else you gotta be？”
Henry drew out a tarnished（生銹的）silver pocket watch. It kept poor time and required frequent winding（上发条）. He flipped（打开）it open， sighed heavily， then snapped it shut.
The last time someone had laid out a suit and a pair of dress shoes with a ticket purchased for a faraway place， Henry had refused to go.
This time， Henry refused to stay.
New York（1986）
Henry had never been to New York City. Oh， sure， maybe once or twice in a dream. But in full， waking reality， it was a place he’d thought of often over the years but never allowed himself to visit. It seemed a world away. Not just across the country or on another coast， but someplace beyond the horizon， lost in another time.
In the forty-dollar cab ride from La Guardia Airport， Henry held the complete Oscar Holden（西雅图爵士乐创始人之一）record on his lap. It had been played at Sheldon’s funeral. The same one he had hand-carried on the plane from Seattle—his one piece of carry-luggage， a conversation piece everywhere he went. When he explained where the record came from， its unique history， and the circumstances of life at the time， people always gushed（夸张地表现）their amazement. Even the young blond woman sitting next to him on the plane， who was flying to New York on business， couldn’t believe he was hand-carrying the only remaining playable copy. She’d forgotten how horribly cruel the Japanese internment（拘留）was. She was in awe of the Panama Hotel’s survival. A place of personal belongings， cherished memories， forgotten treasures.
“First time to the city？” the cabdriver asked. He’d been eyeing Henry in the rearview mirror（后视镜）， but his passenger was lost in thought， staring out the window at the brick-and-mortar（实体的，这里指真实的）landscape that rolled by. A nonstop ebb and flow（起伏）of yellow taxis， sleek limousines（造型优美的豪华轿车）， and pedestrians（行人）who swarmed the sidewalks.
“First time” was all Henry could manage to say. Marty and Samantha had wanted him to call first. To call ahead. But he couldn’t bring himself to pick up the phone. He was too nervous. Like now.
“This is it， twelve hundred block of Waverly Place，” the driver called out； his arm， which hung out the open window， pointed to a small apartment building.
“This is Greenwich Village？”
“You’re looking at it， pal.”
Henry paid the driver an additional thirty dollars to take his bags one mile over to the Marriott， where he’d drop them off with the bellman（接待服务员）. A strange thought， trusting someone in the big city， Henry noted to himself. But that was what this trip was really about， wasn’t it？ Blind faith. And besides， he had nothing to lose. What were some luggage and a change of clothes compared with finding and fixing a broken heart？
The apartment building looked old and modest， but a flat there still probably cost a fortune compared with the simple home Henry had occupied in Seattle for the past forty years.
Looking at the address Marty had given to him， Henry went inside and found himself on the eighth floor， a Chinese lucky number. Standing in the hallway， he stared at the door of Kay Hatsune， a widow of three years. Henry didn’t know what had happened to her husband. If Marty knew， he hadn’t said.
Just that Kay was indeed…Keiko.
Henry looked at the record in his hand. When he took it partway out of the sleeve， the vinyl（唱片）looked impossibly new. She must have taken impeccable（無可挑剔的）care of it over the years.
Putting the record away， Henry straightened the line of the old twopiece suit his son had set out for him， checked his hair and the shine of his shoes.