Vocabulary

ramble v.漫谈；漫笔；

I was rambling and I knew it. But it was better than crying, which I was probably going to do anyway.

(在乡间的)漫游，闲逛；

...freedom to ramble across the moors.

rambling adj.讲话或写作冗长含糊的，杂乱无章的；

chuff n.噗噗地前进；带着喘息声或爆炸的声音生产或移动；

He let out a chuff of laughter, revealed missing lower incisors. It was the most tired laughter I'd ever heard. (incisor门牙)

chuffed adj.非常满意的;很高兴的；

She had just moved into a new house and was pretty chuffed about that.

melancholic adj.忧郁的;忧伤的；

We're a melancholic people, we Afghans, aren't we? Often, we wallow too much in ghamkhori and self-pity. We give in to loss, to suffering, accept it as a fact of life, even see it as necessary.

Expression

I tuned him out, switched to a polite nodding mode.

我不搭腔，带着礼貌点头称是（换成了点头模式）。

Then, a thing made of skin and bones pretending to be Rahim Khan opened the door.

然后，一个像是Rahim Khan的皮包骨打开了门（骨瘦嶙峋）。

“Collateral damage,”

城门失火，殃及池鱼。

The truth was no. The lie was yes. I settled for something in between. “I don't know.”

真相是“不”，谎言是“是”，我含糊其辞道：“我不知道”。

Excerpt

The bustle of the city blurring past me reminded me of a busier, more crowded version of the Kabul I knew, particularly of the Kocheh Morgha, or Chicken Bazaar, where Hassan and I used to buy chutney-dipped potatoes and cherry water. The streets were clogged with bicycle riders, milling pedestrians, and rickshaws popping blue smoke, all weaving through a maze of narrow lanes and alleys. Bearded vendors draped in thin blankets sold animal skin lampshades, carpets, embroidered shawls, and copper goods from rows of small, tightly jammed stalls. The city was bursting with sounds; the shouts of vendors rang in my ears mingled with the blare of Hindi music, the sputtering of rickshaws, and the jingling bells of horse-drawn carts. Rich scents, both pleasant and not so pleasant, drifted to me through the passenger window, the spicy aroma of pakora and the nihari Baba had loved so much blended with the sting of diesel fumes, the stench of rot, garbage, and feces.

细腻入微的场景描写，画面感十足，视觉，听觉，嗅觉都描述得很到位

We sat on a wispy mattress set along the wall, across the window overlooking the noisy street below. Sunlight slanted in and cast a triangular wedge of light onto the Afghan rug on the floor. Two folding chairs rested against one wall and a small copper samovar sat in the opposite corner. I poured us tea from it.

Sunlight slanted in and cast a triangular wedge of light onto the Afghan rug on the floor. 可以模仿的风景描写。

“Yes, hope is a strange thing. Peace at last. But at what price?”A violent coughing fit gripped Rahim Khan and rocked his gaunt body back and forth. When he spat into his handkerchief, it immediately stained red. I thought that was as good a time as any to address the elephant sweating with us in the tiny room.

俗语的使用。

“Hassan,”I said. When was the last time I had spoken his name? Those thorny old barbs of guilt bore into me once more, as if speaking his name had broken a spell, set them free to torment me anew. Suddenly the air in Rahim Khan’s little flat was too thick, too hot, too rich with the smell of the street.

Thought

ACREATIVE WRITING TEACHER at San Jose State used to say about clichés: “Avoid them like the plague.” Then he’d laugh at his own joke. The class laughed along with him, but I always thought clichés got a bum rap. Because, often, they’re dead-on. But the aptness of the clichéd saying is overshadowed by the nature of the saying as a cliché. For example, the “elephant in the room” saying. Nothing could more correctly describe the initial moments of my reunion with Rahim Khan.

写作时老师会指导学生放弃陈词滥调，但陈词滥调之所以“陈”、“烂”，大多是因为经典、恰当。作者这里使用得真是新颖，在使用之前，为了避开自己无词可用只能用陈词滥调的嫌疑，他先插入了一段写作老师的理论，然后大大方方使用起了陈芝麻烂谷子，有趣。

I told him I had written short stories in the leather-bound notebook he’d given me, but he didn’t remember the notebook.

无意中的礼物可能会让人铭记一辈子，甚至改变他人的一生，行善也是如此。

“Kabul was my home. It still is.”He snickered. “Remember the street that went from your house to the Qishla, the military bar racks next to Istiqial School?”

家与根，无论漂泊多远，我们都会回归故里，不管是尸骨还是梦里。

Summary

Rahim Khan, Amir's old friend, whose leather-bound notebook was the only thing Amir can't live without, has become a 'thing' made merely of skin and bones. And Kabul, Amir's past hometown, has been no more than a place full of slaughter and desperation. Everything has changed. From Rahim's accounts, Amir begins to learn what happened after his escape.