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One spring day in 2002, a French woman whose name we may never know, stood on a cross-Channel ferry and threw a bundle of clothes into the sea. After it, went some lilies and a bottle in the shape of a teardrop. The clothes had belonged to her son, Maurice, who had died at the age of 13, and the bottle held her letter to the boy “that no wind…no storm…not even death could ever destroy”.
“Forgive me for being so angry at your disappearance,” the letter went. “Forgive me for not having known how to protect you from death. Forgive me for not having been able to find the words at that terrible moment when you slipped through my fingers…” The bottle vanished, the ship docked, the 1)mourner went home to get on with her life. She never dreamed the letter would reach shore, let alone that someone would read it.
Karen Liebreich, a London-based author, did just that a few weeks later. The bottle had washed up on a beach in 2)Kent, where it caught the eye of her friend Sioux Peto, who was walking her dogs. Inside, Peto found a thin 3)scroll tied with a ribbon and enclosing a 4)lock of hair. The handwriting was in French and, as Liebreich is fluent in the language, Peto sent her the letter for translation. This was tougher than it might have been, with the anonymous writer addressing now her son, now an imagined reader, and piling watery 5)image upon watery image. “You can’t just skim it and understand it,” Liebreich says. As far as she could tell, the boy had died early one summer, probably by drowning. “For a long time,” his mother wrote, “he travelled between two waters, between two lights, trying tirelessly to use up the strength in his outstretched arms. He submitted to the silence, the terrors and the cold…” She had, of course, been devastated—“My life started when he was born, and I thought it was over when he left me…life is precious. I promise you to live it to the full, to savour each instant in richness and serenity. I know that we will find one another, when the time comes,” she wrote.
As she translated, Liebreich found herself crying. “I’m not a 6)weepy person,” she says, “but the letter was very beautiful and very moving.” Liebreich couldn’t sleep that night. In the days that followed, she found herself becoming more protective of her own children. “When your children are young, you can get lost in all the7)banality,” she says. “The house is full of toys and laundry and stuff from school, and in the boredom of the domestic routine you forget how precious they are. Something like this reminds you how important they are.”
Still, that could have been the end of the affair. Liebreich might have dried her tears, regained her rhythm and only occasionally thought of the woman whose story had shaken her. Instead, she set out to find her. “I wanted to know how Maurice had died; I wanted to know what his mother was like; I wanted to know whether I could track the origin of an unsigned letter in a bottle. I wanted the writer to know that the bottle had been found on an English shore and that I had read her letter. I wanted to reassure myself that she was all right.” She explains in the book she subsequently wrote about the search.
“Sending a letter in a bottle invites a stranger to pick it up and read it,” Liebreich told herself. “I think the unknown mother wanted the tale of her love for her son, the 8)knowledge of his death and her despair, to be known.” The only things she knew for sure, however, were Maurice’s first name and the age at which he died. And she soon discovered that much of this knowledge was useless, with France recording deaths not in one central register but in 36,000 local ones. Over the next few years, Liebreich consulted newspapers, bottle-makers, sailors, psychologists, private detectives, even 9)clairvoyants and 10)tarot readers. “The letter would not leave me in peace,” Liebreich writes. “But each time I considered giving up I thought I would make one more effort—one more email, one more phone call, one more visit to the library. The answer might be round the next corner.”
It took her six months to realise that perhaps Maurice hadn’t drowned at all, and the letter’s “water”, “harbour”, “vessel” and so on were nothing but metaphors. It never occurred to her that his death “at the dawn of summer” might have referred to his age rather than the calendar. After three years, Liebreich decided enough was enough. If she couldn’t find Maurice’s mother, she could at least write about the search. “If, somewhere, the letter-writer is alive,” her book concludes, “then perhaps this book can serve as a 11)clumsy ‘letter-in-a-bottle’ reply…I wonder if she will receive my message.”
She did. In 2009, three years after The Letter in the Bottle came out in Britain, the nameless “she” got in touch to say she felt violated. As she put it, it was as though her story, her suffering, her very intimate being no longer belonged to her. By then, the book had been published in French, to huge media coverage. “In Britain the story was seen as a failed quest,” Liebreich recalls. “In France it was an unsolvedmystery.” Years before, she had struggled to interest the media; now she was worried that Maurice’s mother would be 12)outed by a friend or neighbour. Instead, the mother contacted Liebreich via the psychologist Olivier Roussela. She might be willing to talk to Liebreich directly, but she needed time.
The two women finally met a month later, in a nameless town in northern France. “She was very pretty, slim and elegant,” Liebreich writes in the new, updated version of her book, “with a delicate face and good cheekbones… Though she later told me she was 60, she looked much younger… After searching for so many years, I could not believe I was there, face to face with the author of the letter. And so we talked.”
Largely, it seems, about the many things Liebreich and her helpers had got wrong. Maurice had not drowned, but been knocked off his bicycle. He had died in 1981, 21 years before the letter was written, not just a few. The “dawn of summer”? “Just a lyrical expression.” And the 13)medium’s claim: “I don’t think you will ever find her…she is no longer alive.” “Well, I am alive and you have found me.”
“It never occurred to me that anyone would find my letter in the bottle,” the woman explains in a14)postscript to the new edition. “I thought it would smash in the waves and the fragments of glass and paper would gently disperse through the oceans. I gave it to the sea, to the universe.”
Maurice’s mother, who Liebreich has promised never to name, seems to have forgiven her for reopening old wounds. “It was a terrible shock that it all came out,” says Liebreich. “But I think she felt it was done 15)sensitively. That was a great relief.” They have met again and may even be on the way to becoming friends. “We have found other things to talk about,” Liebreich says. “We email each other. I think there’s a friendship evolving that’s not linked totally to this book and the death of the child. And I still have the bottle.”
2002年的一个春日，一个我们也许永远不会知道其姓名的法国女人站在一艘横渡海峡的渡轮上，将一捆衣服扔进大海，接着投进一些百合花以及一个泪滴状的瓶子。那些衣服是她儿子莫里斯的，他在13岁时去世了，瓶子里装的是她的一封信，是给那个“无论狂风，还是暴雨……甚至死亡都无法摧毁”的小男孩的。
“请原谅我因你的离去而如此生气，”信中写道，“请原谅我不懂得如何从死神手上挽救你。请原谅我在你从我指缝中溜走的那个恐怖时刻竟无法言语……”瓶子消失了，船只靠岸了，哀悼者回家了，继续着她的生活。她做梦都没有想过这封瓶中信会漂到岸上，更没想过会有人读到这封信。
凯伦·里布瑞奇，一位住在伦敦的作家，在几周之后读到了这封信。瓶子被冲到了英国肯特郡的一个海滩上。里布瑞奇的朋友苏·皮托在那里遛狗时发现了这个瓶子。皮托发现瓶子里有一个用缎带绑着的薄纸卷，里面还有一缕头发。文字是用法语写的，因为里布瑞奇的法语很流利，所以皮托把信拿给她翻译。匿名的作者在信中一会儿用对她儿子讲话的语气写，一会儿以对虚无的第三者讲话的语气说，用了不少与水有关的意象，因而翻译工作比原来想的更困难。“你无法瞄一眼就能看得懂，”里布瑞奇说。她所能读懂的是，这个男孩早逝于某个夏天，很有可能是溺水而亡。“很长一段时间里，”他母亲写道，“他在两片海域间，在两盏灯之间挣扎，不屈不挠地想要用尽他那张开的双臂的力量。最终，他屈服于寂静、恐惧及寒冷……”当然，她因此而心力交瘁——“我的人生随着他的出生才开始，而当他离我而去时，我觉得我的人生也随之结束了……生命是珍贵的。我答应你要尽享生命，充分而平静地品味每一个瞬间。我知道，当最终一刻来临，我们将会重逢。”她写道。
里布瑞奇发现她自己一边翻译，一边哭泣着。“我并不是一个多愁善感的人，”她说，“但是这封信真的写得很美、很感人。”当天晚上，里布瑞奇无法入睡。接下来的那些天里，她发现自己更加注意保护自己的孩子了。“孩子们小的时候，你会迷失在那些繁琐的杂役当中，”她说道，“房子里满是玩具、衣服和学校的东西，在乏善足陈的日常生活中，你忘记了孩子们有多么珍贵。像这样的一封信提醒了你，孩子们是多么的重要。”
本来至此，事情理应划下了一个句号。里布瑞奇本应就此擦干泪水，重新找回生活的节奏，可能只会偶尔想及有那么一个女人的故事曾打动过她。但是，与此相反，她着手去寻找这个女人。“我想知道莫里斯是怎么去世的；我想知道他母亲是一个怎样的人；我想知道我能不能找到这封无署名的瓶中信的来源。我想让这封信的作者知道她的瓶子在英国的一个海滩被发现了，而且我读过她的信。我想确保她一切安好，那样我才能安心。”她在随后一本有关这次寻找之旅的书里如此写道。
“用漂流瓶送出一封信就是有意让陌生人捡起来一读究竟，”里布瑞奇如此跟自己说，“我认为这位不知名的母亲想要别人知道她对儿子的爱、他的离去以及她的绝望。”虽然如此，可她唯一能确定的只有莫里斯这个名字，以及他去世时的年龄。接着，她很快便发现这些信息是无用的，因为法国的人口死亡记录并无中央登记案册，而是分布在36000个当地登记处。接下来的几年里，里布瑞奇遍寻报纸、瓶子制造商、海员、心理学家、私人侦探，甚至请教有“千里眼”特异功能的人士和塔罗牌读牌师。“这封信让我无法平静下来，” 里布瑞奇写道，“每当我想要放弃的时候，我就会想到再做一次努力——再写一封邮件，再打一个电话，再去一次图书馆。答案也许就在下一个拐角处。”
她花了6个月才意识到也许莫里斯根本不是溺水而亡的，而信中所写的“海域”，“海港”，“船只”等只不过是比喻而已。她从来没有想过他死于“夏天的一个黎明”也许指的是他的年龄而不是日历上的日期。三年之后，里布瑞奇觉得够了，需要停下来了。如果她找不到莫里斯的母亲，至少她可以写写寻找的过程。“如果，信件的作者仍然在世，”她在那本书的结语里如此写道，“那么也许这本书可以作为对那封‘瓶中信’的一个冗长的回复……我想知道她是否会收到我的信息。”
她收到了。2009年，《瓶中信》一书在英国出版的三年后，那个无名的“她”联系了里布瑞奇，称其感到隐私受到了侵犯。据她所述，她觉得似乎自己的故事、痛苦挣扎、私人感受不再属于她自己了。那时，书本已经用法语出版，并且有许多媒体报道了此事。“在英国，这个故事被认为是一次失败的寻找，” 里布瑞奇回忆道，“但是在法国，则是一个未解开的谜团。”多年前，她尽力去吸引媒体的注意；而现在，她担心莫里斯的妈妈会被朋友或者邻居搜索出来。相反地，这位母亲通过心理学家奥利维尔·罗塞尔联系上了里布瑞奇。她或许会愿意与里布瑞奇直接对话，但她需要时间。
一个月后，这两个女人终于在法国北部的一个不知名的小镇见面了。“她很美丽、苗条而优雅，”里布瑞奇在她最新一版的书里写道，“有着精致的面孔和好看的颧骨……虽然后来她跟我说她60岁了，但是她看起来比实际年龄年轻很多……寻找了这么多年，我不敢相信我就在那里，与信的作者面对面。之后，我们聊了起来。”
很大程度上，里布瑞奇以及她的协助者们似乎把许多东西都弄错了。事实上，莫里斯不是溺水而亡，而是从自行车上摔下身亡。他于1981年去世，即是在信件写就的21年前，而不是两三年前。“夏日的黎明”？“只是一种抒情的表达方式。”女巫曾宣称：“我觉得你找不到她……她已经不在人世了。”“嗯，我还在世，而你也找到我了。”
“我从来没有想过会有人找到我那封瓶中信，”这位女士在里布瑞奇那新版书的后记中解释道，“我当时以为它会被海浪打碎，玻璃和纸张的碎片会被海洋慢慢地分解掉。我把它交给了大海，交给了宇宙。”
里布瑞奇曾答应过莫里斯的母亲不透露其姓名，看起来莫里斯的母亲已经原谅里布瑞奇重新掀开她的旧伤口这件事了。“事情水落石出的时候让我很震惊，” 里布瑞奇说，“但我认为她感到我处理的方式很小心体贴，这让她大为舒心。”她们已再次会面，甚至慢慢成为朋友。“我们找到了其他可以交谈的话题，” 里布瑞奇说，“我们互相发邮件给对方。我想我们正在发展一段友谊，而这种友谊不完全仅仅与这本书以及这孩子的逝去相关。而且，我仍然保留着那个瓶子。”
“Forgive me for being so angry at your disappearance,” the letter went. “Forgive me for not having known how to protect you from death. Forgive me for not having been able to find the words at that terrible moment when you slipped through my fingers…” The bottle vanished, the ship docked, the 1)mourner went home to get on with her life. She never dreamed the letter would reach shore, let alone that someone would read it.
Karen Liebreich, a London-based author, did just that a few weeks later. The bottle had washed up on a beach in 2)Kent, where it caught the eye of her friend Sioux Peto, who was walking her dogs. Inside, Peto found a thin 3)scroll tied with a ribbon and enclosing a 4)lock of hair. The handwriting was in French and, as Liebreich is fluent in the language, Peto sent her the letter for translation. This was tougher than it might have been, with the anonymous writer addressing now her son, now an imagined reader, and piling watery 5)image upon watery image. “You can’t just skim it and understand it,” Liebreich says. As far as she could tell, the boy had died early one summer, probably by drowning. “For a long time,” his mother wrote, “he travelled between two waters, between two lights, trying tirelessly to use up the strength in his outstretched arms. He submitted to the silence, the terrors and the cold…” She had, of course, been devastated—“My life started when he was born, and I thought it was over when he left me…life is precious. I promise you to live it to the full, to savour each instant in richness and serenity. I know that we will find one another, when the time comes,” she wrote.
As she translated, Liebreich found herself crying. “I’m not a 6)weepy person,” she says, “but the letter was very beautiful and very moving.” Liebreich couldn’t sleep that night. In the days that followed, she found herself becoming more protective of her own children. “When your children are young, you can get lost in all the7)banality,” she says. “The house is full of toys and laundry and stuff from school, and in the boredom of the domestic routine you forget how precious they are. Something like this reminds you how important they are.”
Still, that could have been the end of the affair. Liebreich might have dried her tears, regained her rhythm and only occasionally thought of the woman whose story had shaken her. Instead, she set out to find her. “I wanted to know how Maurice had died; I wanted to know what his mother was like; I wanted to know whether I could track the origin of an unsigned letter in a bottle. I wanted the writer to know that the bottle had been found on an English shore and that I had read her letter. I wanted to reassure myself that she was all right.” She explains in the book she subsequently wrote about the search.
“Sending a letter in a bottle invites a stranger to pick it up and read it,” Liebreich told herself. “I think the unknown mother wanted the tale of her love for her son, the 8)knowledge of his death and her despair, to be known.” The only things she knew for sure, however, were Maurice’s first name and the age at which he died. And she soon discovered that much of this knowledge was useless, with France recording deaths not in one central register but in 36,000 local ones. Over the next few years, Liebreich consulted newspapers, bottle-makers, sailors, psychologists, private detectives, even 9)clairvoyants and 10)tarot readers. “The letter would not leave me in peace,” Liebreich writes. “But each time I considered giving up I thought I would make one more effort—one more email, one more phone call, one more visit to the library. The answer might be round the next corner.”
It took her six months to realise that perhaps Maurice hadn’t drowned at all, and the letter’s “water”, “harbour”, “vessel” and so on were nothing but metaphors. It never occurred to her that his death “at the dawn of summer” might have referred to his age rather than the calendar. After three years, Liebreich decided enough was enough. If she couldn’t find Maurice’s mother, she could at least write about the search. “If, somewhere, the letter-writer is alive,” her book concludes, “then perhaps this book can serve as a 11)clumsy ‘letter-in-a-bottle’ reply…I wonder if she will receive my message.”
She did. In 2009, three years after The Letter in the Bottle came out in Britain, the nameless “she” got in touch to say she felt violated. As she put it, it was as though her story, her suffering, her very intimate being no longer belonged to her. By then, the book had been published in French, to huge media coverage. “In Britain the story was seen as a failed quest,” Liebreich recalls. “In France it was an unsolvedmystery.” Years before, she had struggled to interest the media; now she was worried that Maurice’s mother would be 12)outed by a friend or neighbour. Instead, the mother contacted Liebreich via the psychologist Olivier Roussela. She might be willing to talk to Liebreich directly, but she needed time.
The two women finally met a month later, in a nameless town in northern France. “She was very pretty, slim and elegant,” Liebreich writes in the new, updated version of her book, “with a delicate face and good cheekbones… Though she later told me she was 60, she looked much younger… After searching for so many years, I could not believe I was there, face to face with the author of the letter. And so we talked.”
Largely, it seems, about the many things Liebreich and her helpers had got wrong. Maurice had not drowned, but been knocked off his bicycle. He had died in 1981, 21 years before the letter was written, not just a few. The “dawn of summer”? “Just a lyrical expression.” And the 13)medium’s claim: “I don’t think you will ever find her…she is no longer alive.” “Well, I am alive and you have found me.”
“It never occurred to me that anyone would find my letter in the bottle,” the woman explains in a14)postscript to the new edition. “I thought it would smash in the waves and the fragments of glass and paper would gently disperse through the oceans. I gave it to the sea, to the universe.”
Maurice’s mother, who Liebreich has promised never to name, seems to have forgiven her for reopening old wounds. “It was a terrible shock that it all came out,” says Liebreich. “But I think she felt it was done 15)sensitively. That was a great relief.” They have met again and may even be on the way to becoming friends. “We have found other things to talk about,” Liebreich says. “We email each other. I think there’s a friendship evolving that’s not linked totally to this book and the death of the child. And I still have the bottle.”
2002年的一个春日，一个我们也许永远不会知道其姓名的法国女人站在一艘横渡海峡的渡轮上，将一捆衣服扔进大海，接着投进一些百合花以及一个泪滴状的瓶子。那些衣服是她儿子莫里斯的，他在13岁时去世了，瓶子里装的是她的一封信，是给那个“无论狂风，还是暴雨……甚至死亡都无法摧毁”的小男孩的。
“请原谅我因你的离去而如此生气，”信中写道，“请原谅我不懂得如何从死神手上挽救你。请原谅我在你从我指缝中溜走的那个恐怖时刻竟无法言语……”瓶子消失了，船只靠岸了，哀悼者回家了，继续着她的生活。她做梦都没有想过这封瓶中信会漂到岸上，更没想过会有人读到这封信。
凯伦·里布瑞奇，一位住在伦敦的作家，在几周之后读到了这封信。瓶子被冲到了英国肯特郡的一个海滩上。里布瑞奇的朋友苏·皮托在那里遛狗时发现了这个瓶子。皮托发现瓶子里有一个用缎带绑着的薄纸卷，里面还有一缕头发。文字是用法语写的，因为里布瑞奇的法语很流利，所以皮托把信拿给她翻译。匿名的作者在信中一会儿用对她儿子讲话的语气写，一会儿以对虚无的第三者讲话的语气说，用了不少与水有关的意象，因而翻译工作比原来想的更困难。“你无法瞄一眼就能看得懂，”里布瑞奇说。她所能读懂的是，这个男孩早逝于某个夏天，很有可能是溺水而亡。“很长一段时间里，”他母亲写道，“他在两片海域间，在两盏灯之间挣扎，不屈不挠地想要用尽他那张开的双臂的力量。最终，他屈服于寂静、恐惧及寒冷……”当然，她因此而心力交瘁——“我的人生随着他的出生才开始，而当他离我而去时，我觉得我的人生也随之结束了……生命是珍贵的。我答应你要尽享生命，充分而平静地品味每一个瞬间。我知道，当最终一刻来临，我们将会重逢。”她写道。
里布瑞奇发现她自己一边翻译，一边哭泣着。“我并不是一个多愁善感的人，”她说，“但是这封信真的写得很美、很感人。”当天晚上，里布瑞奇无法入睡。接下来的那些天里，她发现自己更加注意保护自己的孩子了。“孩子们小的时候，你会迷失在那些繁琐的杂役当中，”她说道，“房子里满是玩具、衣服和学校的东西，在乏善足陈的日常生活中，你忘记了孩子们有多么珍贵。像这样的一封信提醒了你，孩子们是多么的重要。”
本来至此，事情理应划下了一个句号。里布瑞奇本应就此擦干泪水，重新找回生活的节奏，可能只会偶尔想及有那么一个女人的故事曾打动过她。但是，与此相反，她着手去寻找这个女人。“我想知道莫里斯是怎么去世的；我想知道他母亲是一个怎样的人；我想知道我能不能找到这封无署名的瓶中信的来源。我想让这封信的作者知道她的瓶子在英国的一个海滩被发现了，而且我读过她的信。我想确保她一切安好，那样我才能安心。”她在随后一本有关这次寻找之旅的书里如此写道。
“用漂流瓶送出一封信就是有意让陌生人捡起来一读究竟，”里布瑞奇如此跟自己说，“我认为这位不知名的母亲想要别人知道她对儿子的爱、他的离去以及她的绝望。”虽然如此，可她唯一能确定的只有莫里斯这个名字，以及他去世时的年龄。接着，她很快便发现这些信息是无用的，因为法国的人口死亡记录并无中央登记案册，而是分布在36000个当地登记处。接下来的几年里，里布瑞奇遍寻报纸、瓶子制造商、海员、心理学家、私人侦探，甚至请教有“千里眼”特异功能的人士和塔罗牌读牌师。“这封信让我无法平静下来，” 里布瑞奇写道，“每当我想要放弃的时候，我就会想到再做一次努力——再写一封邮件，再打一个电话，再去一次图书馆。答案也许就在下一个拐角处。”
她花了6个月才意识到也许莫里斯根本不是溺水而亡的，而信中所写的“海域”，“海港”，“船只”等只不过是比喻而已。她从来没有想过他死于“夏天的一个黎明”也许指的是他的年龄而不是日历上的日期。三年之后，里布瑞奇觉得够了，需要停下来了。如果她找不到莫里斯的母亲，至少她可以写写寻找的过程。“如果，信件的作者仍然在世，”她在那本书的结语里如此写道，“那么也许这本书可以作为对那封‘瓶中信’的一个冗长的回复……我想知道她是否会收到我的信息。”
她收到了。2009年，《瓶中信》一书在英国出版的三年后，那个无名的“她”联系了里布瑞奇，称其感到隐私受到了侵犯。据她所述，她觉得似乎自己的故事、痛苦挣扎、私人感受不再属于她自己了。那时，书本已经用法语出版，并且有许多媒体报道了此事。“在英国，这个故事被认为是一次失败的寻找，” 里布瑞奇回忆道，“但是在法国，则是一个未解开的谜团。”多年前，她尽力去吸引媒体的注意；而现在，她担心莫里斯的妈妈会被朋友或者邻居搜索出来。相反地，这位母亲通过心理学家奥利维尔·罗塞尔联系上了里布瑞奇。她或许会愿意与里布瑞奇直接对话，但她需要时间。
一个月后，这两个女人终于在法国北部的一个不知名的小镇见面了。“她很美丽、苗条而优雅，”里布瑞奇在她最新一版的书里写道，“有着精致的面孔和好看的颧骨……虽然后来她跟我说她60岁了，但是她看起来比实际年龄年轻很多……寻找了这么多年，我不敢相信我就在那里，与信的作者面对面。之后，我们聊了起来。”
很大程度上，里布瑞奇以及她的协助者们似乎把许多东西都弄错了。事实上，莫里斯不是溺水而亡，而是从自行车上摔下身亡。他于1981年去世，即是在信件写就的21年前，而不是两三年前。“夏日的黎明”？“只是一种抒情的表达方式。”女巫曾宣称：“我觉得你找不到她……她已经不在人世了。”“嗯，我还在世，而你也找到我了。”
“我从来没有想过会有人找到我那封瓶中信，”这位女士在里布瑞奇那新版书的后记中解释道，“我当时以为它会被海浪打碎，玻璃和纸张的碎片会被海洋慢慢地分解掉。我把它交给了大海，交给了宇宙。”
里布瑞奇曾答应过莫里斯的母亲不透露其姓名，看起来莫里斯的母亲已经原谅里布瑞奇重新掀开她的旧伤口这件事了。“事情水落石出的时候让我很震惊，” 里布瑞奇说，“但我认为她感到我处理的方式很小心体贴，这让她大为舒心。”她们已再次会面，甚至慢慢成为朋友。“我们找到了其他可以交谈的话题，” 里布瑞奇说，“我们互相发邮件给对方。我想我们正在发展一段友谊，而这种友谊不完全仅仅与这本书以及这孩子的逝去相关。而且，我仍然保留着那个瓶子。”