现代大学英语精读5lesson2课文TwoKinds.docx

现代大学英语精读5lesson2课文TwoKinds.docx

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现代大学英语精读5lesson2课文TwoKinds

TwoKinds

AmyTan

MymotherbelievedyoucouldbeanythingyouwantedtobeinAmerica.Youcouldopenarestaurant.Youcouldworkforthegovernmentandgetgoodretirement.Youcouldbuyahousewithalmostnomoneydown.Youcouldbecomerich.Youcouldbecomeinstantlyfamous.

“Ofcourse,youcanbeaprodigy1,too,”mymothertoldmewhenIwasnine.“Youcanbebestanything.WhatdoesAuntieLindoknow?

Herdaughter,sheisonlybesttricky.”

Americawaswhereallmymother’shopeslay.ShehadcometoSanFranciscoin1949afterlosingeverythinginChina:

hermotherandfather,herhome,herfirsthusband,andtwodaughters,twinbabygirls.Butsheneverlookedbackwithregret.Thingscouldgetbetterinsomanyways.

Wedidn’timmediatelypicktherightkindofprodigy.AtfirstmymotherthoughtIcouldbeaChineseShirleyTemple2.We’dwatchShirley’soldmoviesonTVasthoughtheyweretrainingfilms.Mymotherwouldpokemyarmandsay,“Nikan.Youwatch.”AndIwouldseeShirleytappingherfeet,orsingingasailorsong,orpursingherlipsintoaveryroundOwhilesaying“Oh,mygoodness.”

“Nikan,”mymothersaid,asShirley’seyesfloodedwithtears.“Youalreadyknowhow.Don’tneedtalentforcrying!

”

SoonaftermymothergotthisideaaboutShirleyTemple,shetookmetothebeautytrainingschoolintheMissionDistrictandputmeinthehandsofastudentwhocouldbarelyholdthescissorswithoutshaking.Insteadofgettingbigfatcurls,Iemergedwithanunevenmassofcrinklyblackfuzz3.Mymotherdraggedmeofftothebathroomandtriedtowetdownmyhair.

“YoulooklikeaNegroChinese,”shelamented,asifIhaddonethisonpurpose.

Theinstructorofthebeautytrainingschoolhadtolopoff4thesesoggyclumpstomakemyhairevenagain.“PeterPan5isverypopularthesedays”theinstructorassuredmymother.Inowhadbadhairthelengthofaboy’s,withcurlybangsthathungataslanttwoinchesabovemyeyebrows.Ilikedthehaircut,anditmademeactuallylookforwardtomyfuturefame.

Infact,inthebeginningIwasjustasexcitedasmymother,maybeevenmoreso.Ipicturedthisprodigypartofmeasmanydifferentimages,andItriedeachoneonforsize.Iwasadaintyballerinagirlstandingbythecurtain,waitingtohearthemusicthatwouldsendmefloatingonmytiptoes.IwasliketheChristchildliftedoutofthestrawmanger,cryingwithholyindignity.IwasCinderella6steppingfromherpumpkincarriagewithsparklycartoonmusicfillingtheair.

InallofmyimaginingsIwasfilledwithasensethatIwouldsoonbecomeperfect:

Mymotherandfatherwouldadoreme.Iwouldbebeyondreproach.Iwouldneverfeeltheneedtosulk,ortoclamorforanything.Butsometimestheprodigyinmebecameimpatient.“Ifyoudon’thurryupandgetmeoutofhere,I’mdisappearingforgood,”itwarned.“Andthenyou’llalwaysbenothing.”

EverynightafterdinnermymotherandIwouldsitattheFormica7toppedkitchentable.Shewouldpresentnewtests,takingherexamplesfromstoriesofamazingchildrenthatshereadinRipley’sBelieveItorNotorGoodHousekeeping,Reader’sdigest,oranyofadozenothermagazinesshekeptinapileinourbathroom.Mymothergotthesemagazinesfrompeoplewhosehousesshecleaned.Andsinceshecleanedmanyhouseseachweek,wehadagreatassortment.Shewouldlookthroughthemall,searchingforstoriesaboutremarkablechildren.

Thefirstnightshebroughtoutastoryaboutathree-year-oldboywhoknewthecapitalsofallthestatesandeventhemostoftheEuropeancountries.Ateacherwasquotedassayingthatthelittleboycouldalsopronouncethenamesoftheforeigncitiescorrectly.“What’sthecapitalofFinland?

”mymotheraskedme,lookingatthestory.

AllIknewwasthecapitalofCalifornia,becauseSacramento8wasthenameofthestreetwelivedoninChinatown9.“Nairobi10!

”Iquessed,sayingthemostforeignwordIcouldthinkof.Shecheckedtoseeifthatmightbeonewaytopronounce“Helsinki11”beforeshowingmetheanswer.

Thetestsgotharder-multiplyingnumbersinmyhead,findingthequeenofheartsinadeckofcards,tryingtostandonmyheadwithoutusingmyhands,predictingthedailytemperaturesinLosangeles,NewYork,andLondon.

OnenightIhadtolookatapagefromtheBibleforthreeminutesandthenreporteverythingIcouldremember.“NowJehoshaphathadriches12andhonorinabundanceandthat’sallIremember,Ma,”Isaid.

Andafterseeing,onceagain,mymother’sdisappointedface,somethinginsidemebegantodie.Ihatedthetests,theraisedhopesandfailedexpectations.BeforegoingtobedthatnightIlookedinthemirrorabovethebathroomsink,andIsawonlymyfacestaringback---andunderstoodthatitwouldalwaysbethisordinaryface---Ibegantocry.Suchasad,uglygirl!

Imadehigh-pitchednoiseslikeacrazedanimal,tryingtoscratchoutthefaceinthemirror.

AndthenIsawwhatseemedtobetheprodigysideofme---afaceIhadneverseenbefore.Ilookedatmyreflection,blinkingsothatIcouldseemoreclearly.Thegirlstaringbackatmewasangry,powerful.SheandIwerethesame.Ihadnewthoughts,willfulthoughtsorrather,thoughtsfilledwithlotsofwon’ts.Iwon’tletherchangeme,Ipromisedmyself.Iwon’tbewhatI’mnot.

Sonowwhenmymotherpresentedhertests,Iperformedlistlessly,myheadproppedononearm.Ipretendedtobebored.AndIwas.IgotsoboredthatIstartedcountingthebellowsofthefoghornsoutonthebaywhilemymotherdrilledmeinotherareas.Thesoundwascomfortingandremindedmeofthecowjumpingoverthemoon.AndthenextdayIplayedagamewithmyself,seeingifmymotherwouldgiveuponmebeforeeightbellows.AfterawhileIusuallycountedonyonebellow,maybetwoatmost.Atlastshewasbeginningtogiveuphope.

Twoorthreemonthswentbywithoutanymentionofmybeingaprodigy.AndthenonedaymymotherwaswatchingtheEdSullivanShow13onTV.TheTVwasoldandthesoundkeptshortingout.Everytimemymothergothalfwayupfromthesofatoadjusttheset,thesoundwouldcomebackonandSullivanwouldbetalking.Assoonasshesatdown,Sullivanwouldgosilentagain.Shegotup,theTVbrokeintoloudpianomusic.Shesatdown,silence.Upanddown,backandforth,quietandloud.Itwaslikeastiff,embracelessdancebetweenherandtheTVset.Finally,shestoodbythesetwithherhandonthesounddial.

Sheseemedentrancedbythemusic,afrenziedlittlepianopiecewithamesmerizingquality,whichalternatedbetweenquick,playfulpassagesandteasing,liltingones.

“Nikan,”mymothersaid,callingmeoverwithhurriedhandgestures.“Lookhere.”

Icouldseewhymymotherwasfascinatedbythemusic.ItwasbeingpoundedoutbyalittleChinesegirl,aboutnineyearsold,withaPeterPanhaircut.ThegirlhadthesaucinessofaShirleyTemple.Shewasproudlymodest,likeaproperChineseChild.Andshealsodidafancysweepofacurtsy,sothatthefluffyskirtofherwhitedresscascadedtothefloorlikepetalsofalargecarnation.

Inspiteofthesewarningsigns,Iwasn’tworried.Ourfamilyhadnopianoandwecouldn’taffordtobuyone,letalonereamsofsheetmusicandpianolessons.SoIcouldbegenerousinmycommentswhenmymotherbadmouthed14thelittlegirlonTV.

“Playnoteright,butdoesn’tsoundgood!

”mymothercomplained“Nosingingsound.”

“Whatareyoupickingonherfor?

”Isaidcarelessly.“She’sprettygood.Maybeshe’snotthebest,butshe’stryinghard.”IknewalmostimmediatelythatIwouldbesorryIhadsaidthat.

“Justlikeyou,”shesaid.“Notthebest.Becauseyounottrying.”Shegavealittlehuffassheletgoofthesounddialandsatdownonthesofa.

ThelittleChinesegirlsatdownalso,toplayanencoreof“Anitra’sTanz,”byGrieg15.Irememberthesong,becauselateronIhadtolearnhowtoplayit.

ThreedaysafterwatchingtheEdSullivanShowmymothertoldmewhatmyschedulewouldbeforpianolessonsandpianopractice.ShehadtalkedtoMr.Chong,wholivedonthefirstfloorofourapartmentbuilding.Mr.Chongwasaretiredpianoteacher,andmymotherhadtradedhousecleaningservicesforweeklylessonsandapianoformetopracticeoneveryday,twohoursaday,fromfouruntilsix.

Whenmymothertoldmethis,IfeltasthoughIhadbeensenttohell.IwishedandthenkickedmyfootalittlewhenIcouldn”tstanditanymore.

“Whydon’tyoulikemethewayIam?

I’mnotagenius!

Ican’tplaythepiano.AndevenifIcould,Iwouldn’tgoonTVifyoupaidmeamilliondollars!

”Icried.

Mymotherslappedme.“Whoaskyoubegenius.”sheshouted.“Onlyaskyoubeyourbest.Foryousake.YouthinkIwantyoubegenius?

Hnnh!

Whatfor!

Whoaskyou!

”

“Soungrateful,”Iheardhermutterinchinese.“Ifshehadasmuchtalentasshehadtemper,shewouldbefamousnow.”

Mr.Chong,whomIsecretlynicknamedOldChong,wasverystrange,alwaystappinghisfingerstothesilentmusicofaninvisibleorchestra.Helookedancientinmyeyes.Hehadlostmostofthehairontopofhisheadandheworethickglassesandhadeyesthatalwaysthought,sincehelivedwithhismotherandwasnotyetmarried.

ImetOldLadyChongonce,andthatwasenough.Shehadapeculiarsmell,likeababythathaddonesomethinginitspants,andherfingersfeltlikeadeadperson’s,likeanoldpeachIoncefoundinthebackoftherefrigerator:

itsskinjustslidoffthefleshwhenIpickeditup.

IsoonfoundoutwhyOldChonghadretiredfromteachingpiano.Hewasdeaf.“LikeBeethoven!

”heshoutedtome“We’rebothlisteningonlyinourhead!

”Andhewouldstarttoconducthisfranticsilentsonatas16.

Ourlessonswentlikethis.Hewou