《Less》書評:不如他人

62386248_441367870010315_144654923731042304_n我最近在看一本名為《Less》的同志小說。主角Less是一位年近五十的同志小說家,他在二十幾歳的時候曾經跟一位比他大二十歳的大師級詩人在一起,但他四十幾歳的時候則是跟一位比他小二十歳的青年交往。然而,正當Less要邁入生命的後半段時,那位現在已經三十幾歳的情人找到了跟他年紀相近的伙伴,所以與Less分手。

小說中提到Less那一代人和他這兩位情人分屬的兩代,三代之間在意識形態上的矛盾和對立。詩人的那一代同志甚至不認為自己是同志,也沒有什麼同志歸屬感。詩人本身是雙性戀,沒有公開出櫃,也沒有被文學圈歸類為一名「同志」詩人;比他年輕的那位青年Freddy屬於年輕一代,他們公開承認他們同志的身份,他也善於跟「同志」作家圈社交。

Less的小說在這些年輕世代的圈內作家眼裡,是對同志身份太悲觀的風格。Less本身也有點自卑:他知道他不是天才(不過他跟詩人交往的期間身邊都是天才);跟Freddy交往時,則被視為不夠gay,不如年輕一代以同志身份為傲,也不是對同志圈有責任感的同志作家。他的姓也暗示他不如別人(less than)的身份。

他為了婉拒Freddy的婚禮邀請函,決定去國外旅遊。在出發之前他與經紀人見面,才得知他最近寫完的小說剛被出版社退稿,因為跟以往一樣,主角又是一個自覺委屈的中產階級白人同志。有趣的是,故事中Less的小說其實跟這本小說Less有許多相似之處,比方說,主角都是年紀比較大、充滿疑惑的白人同志,他們懷念過去的身世。不過,在現代社會,一個白種同志一般來說並不是很大的問題,多得是更受壓迫的社群。然而,在他出發之前,他沒辦法看到自己世界之外的一切,只是一再重複一樣的故事。

讓我比較產生共鳴的部分,是他在講那些經歷過第一代愛滋病危機的同志,他們活到晚年的感受。在缺乏模範的情況下,那一代的同志不是很清楚要有尊嚴地活到老。更進一步來說,對同志而言,什麼是「有意義」的存在?身為同志,是要效仿異性戀社會的典範,結婚、生下(或領養)小孩嗎?這些問題也牽涉到我上述的「矛盾和對立」。早期的同志運動其實意圖為顛覆以異性戀為正統的關係典範。最近台灣才剛通過婚姻平權法案,但反對這個法案的萌萌竟然無意識地呼應早期的同志運動,也就是性解放的觀點:同性戀者不應該(或不適合)受「正統」異性戀關係的壓迫影響;萌萌口中的「不反同,反同婚」也是套用這個道理。在婚姻平權法案之前,台灣曾有「多元成家」法案,更符合性解放運動的觀點,不過沒有通過。在某方面來說,現有法案比較傳統,同性戀關係也受限於傳統典範;不過,這同時也是一個比較踏實的觀點,同性戀者不因為性取向並而比異性戀者更有智慧,也是繼續複製異性戀社會中的階級與種族不平等。

總之,還沒看完,不過我還是很推薦這本小說。

‘The Pretty Boy from Hanoi’ by Roan Ching-yue 阮慶岳的〈河內美麗男〉

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Translated from the Chinese by Conor Stuart. This is a short story taken from City of Tears (哭泣哭泣城 kuqi kuqi cheng, 2002) by Roan Ching-yue (阮慶岳) , an architect and professor based in Taipei.

Can I still be heart-broken

He arrived in Hanoi in the afternoon. He didn’t know what to do, so he just wandered around the busy districts and the little alleys near Hoan Kiem Lake, buying a few things for the sake of it, then an old opera house building towering at the end of the street drew him over; there were people queuing up to buy tickets at the booth, he approached and asked a woman what was going on, she said it was an event celebrating the fortieth anniversary of something, and that there was an opera performance from Paris, she said it would be really good and that he shouldn’t miss it.

There was still some time remaining after he’d bought the ticket, and after turning a few corners he came across a beer garden where he sat down to order a drink; there were a few western patrons scattered throughout the bar, mostly in couples or in groups, he was sitting alone, feeling a strange unsettling feeling of not knowing where to direct his gaze. He was still unable to convince himself that he was already here in Hanoi, or indeed of the reasons why he had come, it didn’t seem that this was the course his life should be running, but he really sitting here now, it was strange but inescapable.

The sky darkened suddenly, he paid the bill and then made his way gradually back to the opera house. Along the road there were young pedlars, one of them wouldn’t go away and followed him through a few alleys, a beggar woman urged her daughter, who couldn’t have been older than three or four years old, to hold on tight to his trouser leg; this all made him rather uncomfortable, he had a french opera to enjoy, if only these people, the onslaught of which he was helpless against, would stop appearing in front of him, in the square in front of the opera house he could still see the young policeman standing at attention, indifferently looking on without seeing, he even began to feel resentment against the Vietnamese government for allowing these two completely different worlds to coexist, such inappropriate neighbours with no way to avoid clashing. Continue reading