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1996年8月，27岁的彼得·海斯勒以美中友好志愿者的身份来到长江边上的一个小城——四川涪陵，在涪陵师范专科学校开始了他为期两年的教书生活。他有了一个中国名字，叫何伟。一个外国人和一座中国小城就这样联系在一起，并发生了一系列奇妙的反应。何伟之于涪陵，是一个珍稀动物般的存在；而涪陵之于何伟，则是一本大书，一本他一读再读、极力想参透的大书。
从一个被围观被关注、各种无所适从的外国人，到坐在“学生食家”跟当地人闲聊、去各种朋友家做客的“涪陵人”，何伟将他在涪陵生活的一点一滴娓娓道来。与此同时，他始终以一双敏锐的眼睛打量着涪陵的城景市象和生活在这里的各色人物，无论是那带有历史气息的插旗山、白鹤梁，日夜奔流的乌江、长江，还是城区嘈杂的喇叭声、污浊的空气、到处可见的标语，甚至那挑着扁担的棒棒军、街头拉二胡的盲人、教堂神甫、餐馆老板……他把所见所感都一一记在笔记本上。1998年，他回到美国家中，花四个月时间写成了《江城》。
这是一本平实的书，耐心而细致地记录下了我们熟悉得不能再熟悉的那些场景、人物和事件，但内里却涵盖着很多很多——从中可以读到中西文化的差异，可以感受到那一时期中国正在经历的巨变，更重要的是，通过一个外来者的视角，我们得以重新审视自己，反思我们因熟悉而忽视的一切。就像《纽约时报》所评论的，这是一本“像河流一样的书，既愉悦又桀骜不驯，表面看似平静，内则气势万钧”。
《江城》是何伟所写的“纪实中国三部曲”的第一部，其余两部分别是《甲骨文》和《寻路中国》。《江城》于2001年获得了桐山环太平洋图书奖（The Kiriyama Prize）。本期书屋节选自“长江”一章，描述了作者乘坐“中华号”轮船在长江上所见之景。
Three miles north of Chongqing， the river abruptly turns east， the bend marked by a shrine to Buddha and an old weatherstained 1）pagoda perched high above the water. The hills begin to rise—green rugged hills， falling away to 2）blanched sheets of limestone stained by last year’s high-water marks. Many of these slopes are too steep for factories or apartment buildings， and small farms become more common as the boat cruises east. The peasants’ homes are simple： mud or brick walls topped by a gray tiled roof. Often they are shaded by clusters of banana trees. And all along the river are crop 3）terraces， carved into the sloping hills where factories can find no foothold.
The scenery is quietly beautiful—not breathtaking， but 4）mesmerizing in the gentle roughness of the hills and the broken regularity of the terraced fields. And just as quietly Chongqing has been left behind， and suddenly it is clear that everything in this landscape has been shaped by the steady power of the Yangtze.
For here the river has strength. Sometimes it widens to several hundred feet， and sometimes it is pinched close between steep hills， but always the current is powerful. The Yangtze carries snowmelt from the western mountains， and it has already been joined by most of its seven hundred 5）tributaries， and so it slips quickly through the hills. Of the world’s great rivers， only the Amazon pushes more water to the sea.
The sun is dropping now and a soft cooling breeze sweeps across the river. Most of the travelers stand on the Zhonghua’s deck， watching the hills slip past. A cluster of Guangdong businessmen hold cell phones to their ears， 6）chattering loudly in Cantonese. A young woman stands alone against the rail， her long black hair and short pink skirt flowing in the wind. The air is clean now， with only a few 7）wispy clouds scratched across the fading blue dome of the sky. The small fishing 8）sampans are starting to dock for the evening， and the Zhonghua passes a group of children playing barefoot in the shallows. Corn stands high in the hills. The crop is two months old and it has just begun to ripen； the stalks are a fresh spring green but the tips are starting to fade toward gold.
There is no rice growing on the riverbanks； the hills are too steep for that. Some of the slopes are too rocky for corn， but even in the roughest land there is always some sign of cultivation—at the least， a single patch of corn tucked into a break in the rock. The crop rows are vertical， running down the hillside， and they have been half-terraced and 9）leveled as much as possible.
It is not an easy place to make a living. Even the most successful farms—the ones with twostory houses， large pig huts， big cement threshing platforms， and a dozen corn plots carved into the hillside—even these farms speak of the difficulty of growing crops in such a landscape. Every terrace has been shaped by human effort， by successive generations of the same 10）clan， by decades and perhaps centuries of work. All of it consisted of the simple labor of hands and feet and basic tools， and the terrain has been changed so gradually that the work of the peasants seems as inevitable as a force of nature—something as determined and powerful as the river itself. Human history sits heavily on the land， as it so often does in China.
The sun sets. The sky glows orange， the hills darken， the round ball of the sun sends a bright band of light skipping along the boat’s 11）wake. And then， behind the western hills， the sun sets.
重庆以北五公里（注：三英里约合五公里），长江急转向东，拐弯处有一座佛龛，一座历经风雨的宝塔高高地俯瞰着江面。山峦越来越高——绿色的山峰崎岖不平，往下是一片片灰白的石灰岩层，去年的洪水在上面留下了清晰的水位线。这一带的山坡大多十分陡斜，无法修建工厂或者公寓楼。随着轮船往东驶去，小块农地逐渐多了起来。农民们的住房十分简陋：要么是土墙，要么是砖墙，屋顶全都盖着青瓦。房前屋后，总有几丛芭蕉树。沿江的坡地全被改成台地，种上了庄稼，工厂没有立锥之地。
沿途的风景有一种静谧的美——虽然没有令人惊艳的美景，但略显粗犷的山峦、间或出现的梯状耕地依然魅力十足。同样，重庆城也被静静地抛在了身后，霎时之间便可以清楚地看到，这沿途的景象都是由长江水持久的作用力一点一点造就而成。
这里的长江气势磅礴。江面时而宽达数百米，时而被两岸的陡坡紧紧锁住，但它的水流总是势不可挡。长江裹挟着西部的高山融雪，一路上吸纳了七百多条大小支流，奔腾激荡在崇山峻岭之间。在世界上的大江大河中，经由长江流入大海的水量仅次于南美洲的亚马逊河。
日头西下，江面上凉风习习。乘客大多来到了“中华号”的甲板上，观看着群山慢慢掠过。几个广东生意人把手机紧贴在耳朵上，用广东话大声地聊着天。一个年轻姑娘独倚在栏杆上，黑色长发和粉色短裙随风飘舞。
空气逐渐清新起来，颜色渐淡的蓝色苍穹上，还飘散着几朵絮状白云。一艘艘小舢板纷纷进港准备过夜，几个小孩子在浅水湾里赤脚戏水，“中华号”从他们的身边径直驶过。山坡上，玉米挺直腰杆站立着，这些玉米已经种下两个月了，很快就要成熟。玉米秆依旧像春天那样通体翠绿，但顶穗很快就会褪色变黄。
江岸的山坡太陡，无法种植水稻。有的陡坡上石头太多，玉米也没法种植。不过，即便是在最为嶙峋的土地上，也总能发现耕种的迹象——石缝之间那一点点泥土里起码也种植了一排玉米。农作物都成竖行栽种，顺坡而下。每一块坡地上都有坎子横过，从而尽量减缓坡度。
这真是一个艰难的求生之地。就连种植庄稼最成功的农户——两层的正屋，宽大的猪舍，宽大的水泥街檐坎，屋后的山坡上斜躺着几块玉米地——就连这些也都在昭示着，在这样的地理条件下，种植庄稼是一件多么艰难的事情。每一块台地都靠人力垒成，也许经过了同一个家族世世代代几十年、几百年的艰苦劳动。这一切全都有赖于手工劳作，肩挑背扛，工具简陋，但极其缓慢的地形变化正说明，农民们的劳动跟大自然的力量一样早已注定——一如门前那条大江，毅然决然，力量无限。人类历史深深地植根在了土地之上，中国的东西南北莫不如此。
太阳下山了。天空变成了橘红色，群山变成了藏青色，圆圆的太阳投射出最后一束光芒，在轮船的尾浪里时隐时现。紧接着，太阳落到了西边的群山之后。
从一个被围观被关注、各种无所适从的外国人，到坐在“学生食家”跟当地人闲聊、去各种朋友家做客的“涪陵人”，何伟将他在涪陵生活的一点一滴娓娓道来。与此同时，他始终以一双敏锐的眼睛打量着涪陵的城景市象和生活在这里的各色人物，无论是那带有历史气息的插旗山、白鹤梁，日夜奔流的乌江、长江，还是城区嘈杂的喇叭声、污浊的空气、到处可见的标语，甚至那挑着扁担的棒棒军、街头拉二胡的盲人、教堂神甫、餐馆老板……他把所见所感都一一记在笔记本上。1998年，他回到美国家中，花四个月时间写成了《江城》。
这是一本平实的书，耐心而细致地记录下了我们熟悉得不能再熟悉的那些场景、人物和事件，但内里却涵盖着很多很多——从中可以读到中西文化的差异，可以感受到那一时期中国正在经历的巨变，更重要的是，通过一个外来者的视角，我们得以重新审视自己，反思我们因熟悉而忽视的一切。就像《纽约时报》所评论的，这是一本“像河流一样的书，既愉悦又桀骜不驯，表面看似平静，内则气势万钧”。
《江城》是何伟所写的“纪实中国三部曲”的第一部，其余两部分别是《甲骨文》和《寻路中国》。《江城》于2001年获得了桐山环太平洋图书奖（The Kiriyama Prize）。本期书屋节选自“长江”一章，描述了作者乘坐“中华号”轮船在长江上所见之景。
Three miles north of Chongqing， the river abruptly turns east， the bend marked by a shrine to Buddha and an old weatherstained 1）pagoda perched high above the water. The hills begin to rise—green rugged hills， falling away to 2）blanched sheets of limestone stained by last year’s high-water marks. Many of these slopes are too steep for factories or apartment buildings， and small farms become more common as the boat cruises east. The peasants’ homes are simple： mud or brick walls topped by a gray tiled roof. Often they are shaded by clusters of banana trees. And all along the river are crop 3）terraces， carved into the sloping hills where factories can find no foothold.
The scenery is quietly beautiful—not breathtaking， but 4）mesmerizing in the gentle roughness of the hills and the broken regularity of the terraced fields. And just as quietly Chongqing has been left behind， and suddenly it is clear that everything in this landscape has been shaped by the steady power of the Yangtze.
For here the river has strength. Sometimes it widens to several hundred feet， and sometimes it is pinched close between steep hills， but always the current is powerful. The Yangtze carries snowmelt from the western mountains， and it has already been joined by most of its seven hundred 5）tributaries， and so it slips quickly through the hills. Of the world’s great rivers， only the Amazon pushes more water to the sea.
The sun is dropping now and a soft cooling breeze sweeps across the river. Most of the travelers stand on the Zhonghua’s deck， watching the hills slip past. A cluster of Guangdong businessmen hold cell phones to their ears， 6）chattering loudly in Cantonese. A young woman stands alone against the rail， her long black hair and short pink skirt flowing in the wind. The air is clean now， with only a few 7）wispy clouds scratched across the fading blue dome of the sky. The small fishing 8）sampans are starting to dock for the evening， and the Zhonghua passes a group of children playing barefoot in the shallows. Corn stands high in the hills. The crop is two months old and it has just begun to ripen； the stalks are a fresh spring green but the tips are starting to fade toward gold.
There is no rice growing on the riverbanks； the hills are too steep for that. Some of the slopes are too rocky for corn， but even in the roughest land there is always some sign of cultivation—at the least， a single patch of corn tucked into a break in the rock. The crop rows are vertical， running down the hillside， and they have been half-terraced and 9）leveled as much as possible.
It is not an easy place to make a living. Even the most successful farms—the ones with twostory houses， large pig huts， big cement threshing platforms， and a dozen corn plots carved into the hillside—even these farms speak of the difficulty of growing crops in such a landscape. Every terrace has been shaped by human effort， by successive generations of the same 10）clan， by decades and perhaps centuries of work. All of it consisted of the simple labor of hands and feet and basic tools， and the terrain has been changed so gradually that the work of the peasants seems as inevitable as a force of nature—something as determined and powerful as the river itself. Human history sits heavily on the land， as it so often does in China.
The sun sets. The sky glows orange， the hills darken， the round ball of the sun sends a bright band of light skipping along the boat’s 11）wake. And then， behind the western hills， the sun sets.
重庆以北五公里（注：三英里约合五公里），长江急转向东，拐弯处有一座佛龛，一座历经风雨的宝塔高高地俯瞰着江面。山峦越来越高——绿色的山峰崎岖不平，往下是一片片灰白的石灰岩层，去年的洪水在上面留下了清晰的水位线。这一带的山坡大多十分陡斜，无法修建工厂或者公寓楼。随着轮船往东驶去，小块农地逐渐多了起来。农民们的住房十分简陋：要么是土墙，要么是砖墙，屋顶全都盖着青瓦。房前屋后，总有几丛芭蕉树。沿江的坡地全被改成台地，种上了庄稼，工厂没有立锥之地。
沿途的风景有一种静谧的美——虽然没有令人惊艳的美景，但略显粗犷的山峦、间或出现的梯状耕地依然魅力十足。同样，重庆城也被静静地抛在了身后，霎时之间便可以清楚地看到，这沿途的景象都是由长江水持久的作用力一点一点造就而成。
这里的长江气势磅礴。江面时而宽达数百米，时而被两岸的陡坡紧紧锁住，但它的水流总是势不可挡。长江裹挟着西部的高山融雪，一路上吸纳了七百多条大小支流，奔腾激荡在崇山峻岭之间。在世界上的大江大河中，经由长江流入大海的水量仅次于南美洲的亚马逊河。
日头西下，江面上凉风习习。乘客大多来到了“中华号”的甲板上，观看着群山慢慢掠过。几个广东生意人把手机紧贴在耳朵上，用广东话大声地聊着天。一个年轻姑娘独倚在栏杆上，黑色长发和粉色短裙随风飘舞。
空气逐渐清新起来，颜色渐淡的蓝色苍穹上，还飘散着几朵絮状白云。一艘艘小舢板纷纷进港准备过夜，几个小孩子在浅水湾里赤脚戏水，“中华号”从他们的身边径直驶过。山坡上，玉米挺直腰杆站立着，这些玉米已经种下两个月了，很快就要成熟。玉米秆依旧像春天那样通体翠绿，但顶穗很快就会褪色变黄。
江岸的山坡太陡，无法种植水稻。有的陡坡上石头太多，玉米也没法种植。不过，即便是在最为嶙峋的土地上，也总能发现耕种的迹象——石缝之间那一点点泥土里起码也种植了一排玉米。农作物都成竖行栽种，顺坡而下。每一块坡地上都有坎子横过，从而尽量减缓坡度。
这真是一个艰难的求生之地。就连种植庄稼最成功的农户——两层的正屋，宽大的猪舍，宽大的水泥街檐坎，屋后的山坡上斜躺着几块玉米地——就连这些也都在昭示着，在这样的地理条件下，种植庄稼是一件多么艰难的事情。每一块台地都靠人力垒成，也许经过了同一个家族世世代代几十年、几百年的艰苦劳动。这一切全都有赖于手工劳作，肩挑背扛，工具简陋，但极其缓慢的地形变化正说明，农民们的劳动跟大自然的力量一样早已注定——一如门前那条大江，毅然决然，力量无限。人类历史深深地植根在了土地之上，中国的东西南北莫不如此。
太阳下山了。天空变成了橘红色，群山变成了藏青色，圆圆的太阳投射出最后一束光芒，在轮船的尾浪里时隐时现。紧接着，太阳落到了西边的群山之后。