具体描述
"[W]hat is true of Rwanda is true in each of us; we all share in Africa." —L'Harmattan
"[This novel] comes closer than have many political scientists or historians to trying to understand why this small country . . . sank in such appalling violence." —Radio France International
In April of 1994, nearly a million Rwandans were killed in what would prove to be one of the swiftest, most terrifying killing sprees of the 20th century. In Murambi, The Book of Bones, Boubacar Boris Diop comes face to face with the chilling horror and overwhelming sadness of the tragedy. Now, the power of Diop's acclaimed novel is available to English-speaking readers through Fiona Mc Laughlin's crisp translation. The novel recounts the story of a Rwandan history teacher, Cornelius Uvimana, who was living and working in Djibouti at the time of the massacre. He returns to Rwanda to try to comprehend the death of his family and to write a play about the events that took place there. As the novel unfolds, Cornelius begins to understand that it is only our humanity that will save us, and that as a writer, he must bear witness to the atrocities of the genocide.
From the novel: "If only by the way people are walking, you can see that tension is mounting by the minute. I can feel it almost physically. Everyone is running or at least hurrying about. I meet more and more passersby who seem to be walking around in circles. There seems to be another light in their eyes. I think of the fathers who have to face the anguished eyes of their children and who can't tell them anything. For them, the country has become an immense trap in the space of just a few hours. Death is on the prowl. They can't even dream of defending themselves. Everything has been meticulously prepared for a long time: the administration, the army, and the [militia] are going to combine forces to kill, if possible, every last one of them."
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我得说，这本书的语言风格简直是一场华丽的冒险。它没有选择平铺直叙，而是大量运用了象征和隐喻，让读者在解读的过程中不断地进行自我构建。你可以把它看作是一部晦涩的诗集，每一章都是一幅意境深远的画作，等待你去破译其中隐藏的密码。我个人非常欣赏这种文学上的‘挑战性’，它拒绝被轻易消化，迫使读者走出舒适区，去探索语言的边界。叙事线索是破碎的，如同打碎的镜子，你需要将这些碎片拼凑起来，才能看到全貌，而这个拼凑的过程本身就是阅读乐趣的重要组成部分。有那么几段，我简直怀疑作者是不是在对某一种古老的语言进行现代转译，那种结构上的疏离感，反而营造出一种超越时空的疏离美感。它不是那种读完就可以束之高阁的书，它会像一颗种子一样，在你脑海中发芽、生长，在你日常思考的间隙中时不时冒出新的理解。
评分从结构上看，这本书的宏大叙事令人印象深刻，但其魅力更在于那些微观层面的精准刻画。作者对于空间和地点的描绘，达到了近乎地理学般的严谨，你仿佛能闻到空气中的尘土味，感受到风穿过特定植被时的那种摩擦声。这种对‘场域’的执着，使得故事中的地点本身成为了一个活生生的角色，承载着厚重的历史信息。我特别留意到作者处理时间的方式，它不是线性的推进，而是像一个漩涡，过去、现在和潜在的未来不断地在同一平面上交错，这让阅读体验充满了悬念和宿命感。不同代际之间的对话和冲突，是通过物件、遗迹和口述历史来传达的，这种间接的叙事策略，非但没有削弱情感冲击力，反而通过留白，让读者主动参与到情感的填补中。这是一次对传统历史叙事模式的优雅颠覆。
评分这本书的叙事节奏如同缓慢而坚定的河流，带着一种古老的重量感。作者似乎不急于将所有线索抛出，而是精心编织了一个由记忆、土地和失落交织而成的网。你可以在字里行间感受到一种深沉的敬畏，那是对历史的敬畏，也是对那些被时间洪流冲刷却依然存在的事物的尊重。阅读的过程更像是一次潜入，你需要屏住呼吸，适应那种幽暗而潮湿的氛围。人物的动机往往不是一蹴而就的简单善恶，而是被环境、命运和代代相传的创伤所塑造的复杂人性。尤其值得称赞的是，作者对细节的捕捉极其敏锐，无论是环境的描写，还是人物细微的表情变化，都处理得极其到位，使得整个故事世界具有惊人的立体感和真实感。我常常停下来，反复咀嚼某一个句子，因为它蕴含的信息量和情感深度远超表面文字。这本书要求读者付出耐心，但它回报给你的，是远超预期的精神体验，一种近乎宗教仪式般的沉浸感。
评分这本书最让我震撼的是它的哲学深度，它超越了特定事件的范畴，触及了关于存在的本质。作者似乎在探问：当一个地方、一个群体被剥夺了其叙事权后，他们如何通过非语言的方式，将自己的存在感投射到世界之上？它不是一本提供答案的书，而是一系列极其复杂而优美的问题的集合。文本的张力在于它如何在绝望的境地中，依然能发现一丝微弱但坚韧的美感，这种美感不是来自逃避现实，而是来自直面现实的残酷之后，依然选择去记录、去铭记的意志。阅读过程中，我不断地被一种庄严感所笼罩，这让我意识到，有些故事，必须用最谨慎、最充满敬意的笔触去对待。它需要的不是一次匆忙的翻阅，而是一次虔诚的朝圣。
评分读完后，我产生了一种强烈的共鸣，这种共鸣来自于对人类集体记忆脆弱性的深刻洞察。这本书像是在探讨，当物质证据和官方记录都可能消逝或扭曲时，我们依靠什么来维系一个族群的身份？作者选择了一种近乎民族志研究的深度去挖掘那些“非正式”的历史渠道——民间传说、私人笔记，甚至是建筑的残迹。人物之间的关系处理得极其细腻，没有那些好莱坞式的夸张冲突，更多的是一种潜藏在日常互动下的紧张和妥协，这种真实感是极其震撼的。我感觉自己不是在读一个虚构的故事，而是在阅读一份被精心保存下来的、极具争议性的民族档案。它迫使你去质疑你所接受的关于“真相”的定义，这对于任何一个对社会学和历史学抱有兴趣的读者来说，都是一次不容错过的精神洗礼。
评分"I suffered from these things without really feeling involved. I didn’t realize that if the victims shouted loud enough, it was so I would hear the, myself and thousands of other people on earth, and so we would try to do everything we could so that their suffering might end. It always happened so far away..."
评分"I suffered from these things without really feeling involved. I didn’t realize that if the victims shouted loud enough, it was so I would hear the, myself and thousands of other people on earth, and so we would try to do everything we could so that their suffering might end. It always happened so far away..."
评分阿多诺说，奥斯维辛之后，写诗是野蛮的。Diop借叙述者之口说，He would tirelessly recount the horror. With machete words, club words, words studded with nails, naked words and words covered with blood and shit. Every chronicler could at least learn—something essential to his art—to call a monster by its name. 看得太难受了，呼唤这本书的中译本！！
评分"I suffered from these things without really feeling involved. I didn’t realize that if the victims shouted loud enough, it was so I would hear the, myself and thousands of other people on earth, and so we would try to do everything we could so that their suffering might end. It always happened so far away..."
评分"I suffered from these things without really feeling involved. I didn’t realize that if the victims shouted loud enough, it was so I would hear the, myself and thousands of other people on earth, and so we would try to do everything we could so that their suffering might end. It always happened so far away..."
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