一口气读完杨红的这两篇小说,闭目微思,好像闻到了从太行山深处吹过来的气息,混沌、沉厚,有着黄土地的泥味儿和高远苍凉的阳光味儿,混杂着泼辣辣俏生生的倔强和坚韧;同时,又因层层山脉的封闭和固守生出一种诚实的纯朴,这纯朴在春天柳枝做成的叫“觅子”的哨声中飞向高远的天空,单纯、轻灵得让人心动。 Yang Hong read one by one these two novels, blind thinking, as if smelled the breath blowing from the depths of the Taihang Mountains, chaos, Shen thick, with the muddy yellow soil and lofty desolate sun taste children, mixed With the stubborn and tenacious, spicy and pretty life; at the same time, because of the closure and obedience of layers of mountains to give birth to an honest simplicity, which in the spring willow branches made of called “son” whistle flew Lofty sky, pure, Brisk was breathtaking.