其实我对这位作者并不熟悉，但是去年读理查德·福特主编的一部短篇小说集（Blue Collar, White Collar, No Collar）时读到他的一篇《取证》，太喜欢了。刚好巧的是，有出版社买了几本他的书后约我译，听说是他的，我一口答应下来，结果就分这本书给我译。一读之下，非常喜欢，每篇都那么好，描写得那么精准。因为是作者的第一个短篇集，1981年出版（BTW，我喜欢翻译老的，经过时间检验的），质量之好自不待言，我现在只庆幸有机会译这本书。

感兴趣的读者可以搜索一下作者（Tobias Wolff，威基百科：http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tobias_Wolff）。他获得过普利策奖，被认为和雷蒙德·卡佛及理查德·福特等作家一样，是肮脏现实主义（dirty realism）的代表作家之一（他本人倒是挺烦这种说法）。

好久没写“书评”，都不知道该怎么写了，到此为止吧。请等我的译本出版后一起阅读他，相约2014。等不及的可以去卓越亚马逊上买本原版，不到100元，跟你说，值得的。

下面是我阅读时摘抄的一些句子，后来索性先译了两段。

Seeing the children andtheir father together, like a row of burning candles, always made Brooke feel more kindly toward Riley.

You can't sell yourself cheap. You'v got to hold out for Miss Right. Or Mr. Right. As the case may be.

He died downstairs in a shaft of late afternoon sunlight on New Year’s Day, while I was reading to him. I was alone in the house and didn’t know what to do. His body did not frighten me but immediately and sharply I missed my father.

My father died well. His irritability gave way to something else, something like serenity. In the last days he became tender. It was as though he had been rehearsing the scene, that the anger of his life had been a kind of stage fright.

She looked at me and I shrank; I knew exactly what she was going to say. "Son," she said, "do you know how much I love you?"

She pulled me against her and kissed me, then held me an extra second to show that her embrace was sincere, not just like everyone else's, never having realized that everyone else does the same thing.

The fresh snow on the road and the trees sparkled under the beam of the headlight. Squares of light from farmhouse windows

后来读到泪奔，难以自控，于是先译了两段：

快到最后时，我爸爸大多数时候都在睡觉，我看着他，有时隐约能听到我妈妈在楼下弹钢琴。我读东西给我爸爸听时，偶尔他会坐在椅子上点着头；他的浴袍会敞开来，我能看到他肚子上那道长长的新疤痕，在白色皮肤的衬托下红得像血。他的肋骨一根根凸现出来，腿就像缆索。
我曾在一本伟人传记中读到传主“死得不错”，我想作者是想说他忍着疼痛不说，不曾让别人虚惊一场，也没有给仍将在世的人带来很多麻烦。我爸爸死得不错。他易怒的性格有所改变，有点安详。最后的日子里，他变得温和，似乎他这辈子发脾气都是怯台的表现。他像个历史悠久的剧团一样面对观众（即我们），懂得何时扮小丑，何时表现得庄重。如他所期，我们都被感动了，佩服他的勇气。元旦那天在楼下，在傍晚的一束阳光中，他去世了，当时我正在读东西给他听。我并没有害怕他的尸体，而是立刻强烈地想念他。似乎不应该让他还坐在那儿，我想把他抱到楼上他的卧室里，但是太不容易了，就打电话给街对面的朋友拉尔菲。他来看到我想让他干什么时哭了起来，但我还是要他帮忙。一两个钟头后，我妈妈回来了，我跟她说爸爸死了，她喊着我爸爸的名字就跑上楼。“感谢上帝，”她说，“至少他死在床上。”在她看来这似乎挺重要，我没有告诉她并非如此。但是那天晚上，拉尔菲的父母打电话来，说他们对我所做的事感到震惊，我妈听了后也是，震惊而且愤怒。为什么？因为我没告诉她真相吗？要么因为她得知真相后，就不能继续相信我爸爸死在床上了？我真的不知道。（孙仲旭 译）