PBS高端访谈:尝试更为冒险的做法（在线收听）

JUDY WOODRUFF: Picking up new hobbies can be, for many, a lifelong habit. And, as we grow older, many pursue a new language or become proficient at a game we never played before. But what happens when we choose a riskier approach? Tonight, novelist Jane Hamilton brings us her Humble Opinion on just how to weigh that decision.

朱迪·伍德拉夫：对很多人来说，养成新的习惯是一辈子的事儿。随着年龄的增长，很多人都想学习新的语言，或者掌握一个从未玩儿过的游戏。但如果选择更冒险的方式会怎样呢？今晚，小说家简·汉密尔顿将为我们带来她对于权衡这个决定的看法。

JANE HAMILTON, Author, The Excellent Lombards: In my 50s, I fell in love. I couldn't believe it at first, a love without the usual lunacy, no sleepless nights, sudden weight loss, no sending reckless notes. Ah, my beloved, Trek Alpha super light road bike. Like any new love, however, there were soon problems beyond maintenance and repair. There was a standard fundamental question: Is this relationship going to kill me? Every time I get on the Trek, I wonder if I'm going to die at the hands of some idiot on the road, and I include myself in that category. I have made some stupendously unconsidered moves and, more than once, tipped over at a standstill. Question number two, a math problem: How much risk is worth taking for how much joy? For instance, there's my father, who started rock climbing in middle age. He was rapturously obsessed. When he fell to his death at age 59 in a freak accident, we were in shock, not just for a while, but really for years. Everyone said how lucky he was to die doing something he loved. I wasn't so sure. He missed a lot of future rapture, such as knowing his grandchildren. What would he say to me now, I wonder, if he became available for an interview? Was your sport worth dying for, father? Look at your grandsons, spitting images of you, and they have your brains, too. He might say, well, obviously, rock climbing was stupid. What was I thinking? Maybe he would advise me to do good works, instead of chugging around the county, train therapy animals, run for Congress, volunteer at a detention center. Instead, I pump up the Trek tires and, say, it's a spring morning. I head out, the cool air on my bare arms. I swear that sometimes all I wish for, cool air, bare arms and to be free, free from the labor of making sentences, liberated into a pure self and into the fresh, awakening world. What luck, this joy, at my age. Maybe, after all, my father, with a long view, will say, oh, don't be such a worrier and a puritan. Maybe, in the afterlife, he's had time to read George Eliot's Middlemarch. The best piety is to enjoy, she wrote in her novel. If you have joy, she said, you are doing the most then to save the Earth's character as an agreeable planet. We will bat that one around, my father and I. Is George Eliot's claim simple-minded? Is joy an old-fashioned luxury? Is it selfish? Or is it, my father will offer, the reason for being?

简·汉密尔顿，《杰出的伦巴底人》作者：我50多岁的时候陷入了爱和。我一开始不相信这件事，发了疯的爱着一个人，经历了许多无眠的夜晚，突然暴瘦，写了许多疯人语，却永远不会寄出。啊，我的爱人，就像骑着不经折腾的自行车在颠簸的路上行驶。不过，就像任何刚开始的恋情一样，很快就会出现许多问题，需要维护感情并修复问题。有一个标准化的根本问题：这段感情是否让我不堪忍受？每次我开始一段恋情，我就会问自己在感情中是否会被某个傻瓜折磨得不行。我自己也算是一个傻瓜。有一些举动是我自己都未曾料到的，让一切停滞不前。第二个问题是一个数学问题：要冒多大的风险，取得多大的快乐？比如，我父亲是中年开始攀岩的。他对攀岩极为着迷。他59岁的时候，在一场离奇车祸中死亡，我们很震惊，在随后的这些年里依然没有缓过神来。大家都说他很幸运，能死于自己所爱的事情中。但我对这一点不是很确定。因为他也错过了未来的许多开心事儿，比如见见自己的孙子辈。我常想，如果他现在能接受采访的话，会跟我说些什么呢。攀岩值得您牺牲生命去做吗，父亲？看看您的孙子孙女吧，他们跟您长的很像，跟您一样聪明。父亲可能会说：怎么说呢，显然，攀岩是很愚蠢的一件事。我在想什么呢？或许他会建议我做点大事儿，而非周游全国，训练兵治疗动物，竞选国会议员，在拘留所做志愿者。但我不会听他的建议，我会把轮胎装好，然后感叹这美好的春日早晨。伸出头区，呼吸凉爽的空气，张开双臂，拥抱世界。我发誓有时候我只愿拥有凉爽的空气和张开双臂拥抱世界的自由，只要不必遭受造句之苦就好，只要我能获得真我，得到自由，贴近这个新鲜又让人清醒的世界。我这样的年纪就能享有这样的乐趣，是多么幸运的一件事啊。或许，父亲在走过一声后，会回头对我说：哦，别这么忧虑，做个清教徒就好。或许，来世的时候，父亲会有时间读读乔治·爱略特的米德尔马契。她在自己的小说中曾写道，最好的虔诚就是享受现在。她还说，如果你拥有快乐，那么你就已经竭尽全力让这个星球变得更加美好了。我和父亲会品读践行这句话。乔治·爱略特的说法是否太过简单了呢？快乐是否是一种过时的奢侈呢？快乐是自私吗？又或者像父亲提出的那样：快乐是存在的意义吗？

JUDY WOODRUFF: Novelist Jane Hamilton.

朱迪·伍德拉夫：让我们感谢小说家简·汉密尔顿。