their plots from some pop anthropology book on male bonding. Movies portrayed the idea that only men, those direct descendants of hunters and Hemingways, inherited a primal capacity for friendship. In contrast, they portrayed women picking on each other, the way they once picked berries.
×ݹÛÊý°ÙÍòÓ¢ÀﳤµÄµçÓ°½ºÆ¬£¬ÓÑÒêµÄÀíÏëÖ÷½Ç×ÜÊÇÄÐÐÔ¡ª¡ªÂúÊÀ½ç¶¼ÊÇÀàËÆ²¼Ææ¡¤¿¨Î÷µÏ˹¼°ÆäÌú¸çÃÇɽµ¤Ë¼¡¤»ùµÂ˹ÕâÑùµÄÃÜÓÑ¡¢Í¬°éµÄ¹ÊÊ¡£ÕâЩÐÎÓ°²»ÀëµÄÒøÄ»ÐÎÏóËÆºõÊÇÀ´×ÔÔ¶¹ÅÉç»á¡ª¡ª¹ÊÊÂÇé½ÚºÃÏñÊÇÖÆÆ¬ÈË´ÓÚ¹ÊÍÄÐÐÔ¼äÃÜÇйØÏµµÄÈËÀàѧͨË×¶ÁÎïÀïѡȡ³öÀ´ËƵġ£Ó°Æ¬Ú¹ÊÍÁËÒ»¸ö¹Ûµã£¬¼´Ö»ÓÐÄÐÐÔ¡ª¡ªÄÇЩÁÔÈ˺ͺ£Ã÷ÍþʽӲººµÄ´«ÈË¡ª¡ª²Å¼Ì³ÐÁ˶ÔÓÚÓÑÒêµÄÔʼµÄÄÜÁ¦¡£Ïà·´£¬Å®ÈËÃÇ×ÜÊDZ»Ãè»æ³É»¥ÏàÌô´Ì£¬¾ÍºÃÏñËýÃÇ´ÓǰÌôÑ¡½¬¹ûÄÇÑù¡£
6 Well, that duality must have been mortally wounded in some shootout at the You¡¯re OK, I¡¯m OK Corral. Now, on the screen, they were at least aware of the subtle distinction between men and women as buddies and friends.
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7 About 150 years ago, Coleridge had written, ¨DA woman¡®s friendship borders more closely on love than man¡®s. Men affect each other in the reflection of noble or friendly acts, whilst women ask fewer proofs and more signs and expressions of attachment.¡¬
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8 Well, she thought, on the whole, men had buddies, while women had friends. Buddies bonded, but friends loved. Buddies faced adversity together, but friends faced each other. There was something palpably different in the way they spent their time. Buddies seemed to ¨Ddo¡¬ things together; friends simply ¨Dwere¡¬ together.
ºÃ°É£¬ËýÏ룬×ÜÌåÀ´Ëµ£¬ÄÐÈËÓиçÃÇ£¬Å®ÈËÓйëÃÛ¡£¸çÃÇÏ໥¹ØÁª£¬¹ëÃÛ»¥Ïàϲ°®¡£¸çÃǹ²Í¬Ãæ¶ÔÄæ¾³£¬µ«¹ëÃÛÖ±Ãæ±Ë´Ë¡£ÏÔÈ»£¬Á½Õß¹²¶Èʱ¹âµÄ·½Ê½»¥²»Ïàͬ¡£¸çÃÇËÆºõÒ»Æð¨D×ö¡¬Ê£¬¹ëÃÛÖ»²»¹ý¨DÔÚ¡¬Ò»Æð¡£
9 Buddies came linked, like accessories, to one activity or another. People have golf buddies and business buddies, college buddies and club buddies. Men often keep their buddies in these categories, while women keep a special category for friends.
¸çÃÇÏñͬ»ïÒ»Ñù¿¿¸÷ÖֻÁªÏµÔÚÒ»Æð¡£ÈËÃÇÓÐÒ»Æð´ò¸ß¶û·òµÄ¸çÃÇ£¬ÓÐÉ̳¡ÉϵĸçÃÇ£¬´óѧʱµÄ¸çÃǺ;ãÀÖ²¿µÄ¸çÃÇ¡£ÄÐÈ˾³£°´ÕâЩÀà±ð¸ø¸çÃǹéÀ࣬¶øÅ®ÈËÃǰѹëÃÛרÃŹéÀà¡£ 10 A man once told her that men weren¡®t real buddies until they had been ¨Dthrough the wars¡¬ together ¨C corporate or athletic or military. They had to soldier together, he
said. Women, on the other hand, didn¡®t count themselves as friends until they had shared three loathsome confidences. Ò»¸öÄÐÈËÔø¾¸æËßËýÄÐÈ˲»»á³ÉÎªÕæÕýµÄ¸çÃÇ£¬³ý·ÇËûÃÇÔø¾¨D²¢¼ç×÷Õ½¡¬¡ª¡ªÔÚÉ̳¡ÉÏ£¬Ô˶¯³¡ÉÏ£¬»òÊÇÕ½³¡ÉÏ¡£Ëû˵£¬ËûÃǵÃÔÚÒ»Æðµ±±ø´òÕ̲ųɡ£ÁíÒ»·½Ã棬ŮÈËÃdzý·Ç¹²ÏíÁË3¸öÌÖÈËÏÓµÄÃØÃÜÖ®ºó²ÅÊӱ˴ËΪ¹ëÃÛ¡£
11 Buddies hang tough together; friends hang onto each other.¸çÃÇÔÚÒ»Æð¹²¶ÉÄѹأ¬¹ëÃÛÔòÏ໥ÒÀÀµ¡£
12 It probably had something to do with pride. You don¡®t show off to a friend; you show need. Buddies try to keep the worst from each other; friends confess it.
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13 A friend of hers once telephoned her lover, just to find out if he was home. She hung up without a hello when he picked up the phone. Later, wretched with embarrassment, the friend moaned, ¨DCan you believe me? A thirty-five-year-old lawyer, making a chicken call?¡¬ Together they laughed and made it better.ËýÒ»¸ö¹ëÃÛÓÐÒ»´Î¸øÇéÈË´òµç»°£¬¾ÍÊÇÏëÈ·ÈÏËûÊÇ·ñÔÚ¼Ò¡£Ëû¸Õ°Ñµç»°½ÓÆðÀ´Ëý¾Í¹ÒÁË¡£Êºó£¬Õâ¸öÅóÓѾõµÃºÜÞÏÞΣ¬°§Ì¾µÀ£º¨DÄãÐÅÂð£¿Ò»¸ö35ËêµÄÂÉʦ£¬´òÕâÖÖ͵͵ÃþÃþµÄµç»°£¿¡¬ËýÃÇÒ»Æð¹þ¹þ´óЦ£¬ÕâÑù¸Ð¾õºÃһЩÁË¡£ 14 Buddies seek approval. But friends seek acceptance.¸çÃÇ×·ÇóÏ໥ÈÏͬ£¬¶ø¹ëÃÛ×·Çó»¥Ïà½ÓÊÜ¡£
15 She knew so many men who had been trained in restraint, afraid of each other¡®s judgment or awkward with each other¡®s affection. She wasn¡®t sure which. Like buddies in the movies, they would die for each other, but never hug each other.ËýÈÏʶÐí¶àÄÐÈË£¬ÕâЩÈËÔÚ×ÔÎÒ¿ËÖÆ·½ÃæÑµÁ·ÓÐËØ¡£ËûÃǺ¦ÅÂÀ´×Ա˴˵ÄÒâ¼û£¬Èô±Ë´Ëϲ°®Ò²ºÜ²»×ÔÔÚ¡£Ëý²»Çå³þÊÇÄÄÖÖÇé¿ö¡£¾ÍÏñµçÓ°ÖеĸçÃÇ£¬ËûÃÇÔ¸ÒâΪ¶Ô·½Ï׳öÉúÃü£¬È´´ÓÀ´²»±Ë´ËÓµ±§¡£ 16 She had reread Babbitt recently, that extraordinary catalogue of male grievances. The only relationship that gave meaning to the claustrophobic life of George Babbitt had been with Paul Riesling. But not once in the tragedy of their lives had one been able to say to the other: You make a difference.14 15 16 ×î½üËýÖØ¶ÁÁË¡¶°Í±ÈÌØ¡·£¬ÕâÊǹØÓÚÄÐÈËÄÑ´¦µÄ·Ç·²×÷Æ·¡£ÇÇÖΡ¤°Í±ÈÌØ¹ý×ÅÓıտ־åÖ¢µÄÉú»î£¬Î¨Ò»ÁîËûÕâÖÖÉú»îÓÐÒâÒåµÄÈ˼ʹØÏµÀ´×Ô±£ÂÞ¡¤Àï˹ÁȻ¶øÔÚËûÃDZ¯¾çÐÔµÄÉú»îÖÐûÓÐÈκÎÒ»¸öÈ˶ԶԷ½Ëµ¹ýÒ»´ÎÕâÑùµÄ»°£ºÓÐÁËÄ㣬ÎÒµÄÉú»îÓë¹ýÈ¥²»Ò»Ñù¡£
17 Even now men shocked her at times with their description of friendship. Does this one have a best friend? ¨DWhy, of course, we see each other every February.¡¬ Does that one call his most intimate pal long distance? ¨DWhy, certainly, whenever there¡®s a real reason.¡¬ Do those two old chums ever have dinner together? ¨DYou mean alone? Without our wives?¡¬¼´±ãÏÖÔÚËýÓÐʱ»¹ÊÇ»á¶ÔÄÐÈ˹ØÓÚÓÑÒêµÄÃèÊö¸Ðµ½Õ𾪡£Õâ¸öÈËÓÐ×îÒªºÃµÄÅóÓÑ
Â𣿨DÔõôÀ²£¬µ±È»À²£¬ÎÒÃÇÿÄê2Ô¶¼»á¼ûÃæ¡£¡¬ÄǸöÈË»á¸øËû×îºÃµÄÅóÓÑ´ò³¤Í¾µç»°Â𣿨DÔõôÀ²£¬µ±È»À²£¬Ã¿´ÎÕæµÄÓÐÊµĻ°¾Í»á´ò°¡¡£¡¬ÕâÁ½¸öÀÏÅóÓÑÕæµÄÔÚÒ»Æð³Ô¹ý·¹Â𣿨DÄãÒâ˼¾ÍÁ½¸öÈË£¿²»´øÉϸ÷×ÔµÄÀÏÆÅ£¿¡¬
19 Yet, things were changing. The ideal of intimacy wasn¡®t this parallel playmate, this teammate, this trenchmate. Not even in Hollywood. In the double standard of friendship, for once the female version was becoming accepted as the general ideal.È»¶ø£¬Çé¿öÕý·¢Éú×ű仯¡£Ç×ÃܵÄÀíÏë״̬²»ÊÇÕâÖÖÆ½ÐÐʽµÄÍæ°é¡¢¶ÓÓÑ¡¢Õ½ÓѹØÏµ¡£¼´±ãÊǺÃÀ³ÎëӰƬҲ²»ÊÇ¡£ÔÚÓÑÒêµÄË«ÖØ±ê׼ϣ¬¾ÍÕâÒ»´ÎÕâÖÖÅ®ÐÔ°æ±¾µÄÓÑÒê×÷ΪÆÕ±éÀíÏëÕýÔÚ±»ÈËÃǽÓÊÜ¡£ 20 After all, a buddy is a fine life-companion. But one¡®s friends, as Santayana once wrote, ¨Dare that part of the race with which one can be human.¡¬
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Unit 6 A French Fourth
Along about this time every year, as Independence Day approaches, I pull an old American flag out of a bottom drawer where it is folded away £ folded in a square, I admit, not the regulation triangle. I¡¯ve had it a long time and have always flown it outside on July 4. Here in Paris it hangs from a fourth-floor balcony visible from the street. I¡¯ve never seen anyone look up, but in my mind¡¯s eye an American tourist may notice it and smile, and a French passerby may be reminded of the date and the occasion that prompt its appearance. I hope so.
ÿÄê²î²»¶àµ½Á˶ÀÁ¢ÈÕÈÕÒæÁÙ½üµÄʱºò£¬ÎÒ¶¼»á°ÑÒ»ÃæÕÛµþºÃµÄ¾ÉµÄÃÀ¹ú¹úÆì´Óµ×²ã³éÌëÀïÈ¡³ö¡ª¡ªÎÒ³ÐÈÏÎÒÕÛµþ¹úÆì²»Êǹٷ½¹æ¶¨µÄÈý½ÇÐΣ¬¶øÊÇÕý·½ÐΡ£ÎÒÓµÓÐÕâÃæ¹úÆìºÜ³¤Ê±¼äÁË£¬Ã¿Äêµ½ÁË7ÔÂ4ÈÕÎÒ×ÜÊǰÑËü¹Ò³öÀ´¡£Éí´¦°ÍÀèµÄÎÒ°ÑËü¹ÒÔÚËÄÂ¥µÄÑǫ̂ÉÏ£¬ÔÚÂí·É϶¼¿´µÃµ½¡£ËäÈ»ÎÒû¼û¹ýÓÐÈȨ̈ͷ¿´ËüÒ»ÑÛ£¬µ«ÔÚÎÒÄÔº£ÖУ¬ÎÒÏëÏó×ÅÃÀ¹úÓοͻòÐí»á×¢Òâµ½Ëü²¢Ý¸¶ûһЦ£¬¶ø·¨¹ú·ÈË»á´ÓÖÐÏëÆð´ÙʹÕâÃæ¹úÆì³öÏÖµÄÏà¹ØÈÕÆÚºÍÔÒò¡£³ÏÔ¸Èç´Ë¡£ For my expatriated family, too, the flag is meaningful, in part because we don¡¯t do anything else to celebrate the Fourth. People don¡¯t have barbecues in Paris apartments, and most other Americans I know who have settled here suppress such outward signs of their heritage £ or they go back home for the summer to refuel.
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Our children think the flag-hanging is a cool thing, and I like it because it gives us a few moments of family Q&A about our citizenship. My wife and I have been away from the
United States for nine years, and our children are eleven and nine, so American history is mostly something they have learned £ or haven¡¯t learned £ from their parents. July 4 is one of the times when the American in me feels a twinge of unease about the great lacunae in our children¡¯s understanding of who they are and is prompted to try to fill the gaps. It¡¯s also a time, one among many, when my thoughts turn more generally to the costs and benefits of raising children in a foreign culture.
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Louise and Henry speak French fluently; they are taught in French at school, and most of their friends are French. They move from language to language, seldom mixing them up, without effort or even awareness. This is a wonderful thing, of course. And our physical separation from our native land is not much of an issue. My wife and I are grateful every day for all that our children are not exposed to. American school shootings are a good object lesson for our children in the follies of the society we hold at a distance.
·Ò×Ë¿ºÍºàÀû·¨Óﶼ˵µÃºÜÁ÷Àû¡£Ñ§Ð£ÀïʹÓ÷¨Óï½Ìѧ£¬ËûÃǵÄÅóÓÑ´ó¶àÊýÊÇ·¨¹úÈË¡£ËûÃÇÔÚ·¨ÓïºÍÓ¢ÓïÖ®¼äÇл»×ÔÈ磬²»·Ñ´µ»ÒÖ®Á¦£¬¼«ÉÙ°ÑÁ½ÖÖÓïÑÔ¸ã»ì¡£Õ⵱ȻºÜ°ô¡£ÎÒÃÇÔ¶Àë¹Ê¹ú£¬Ïà¸ôǧɽÍòË®£¬Ò²²»ÊÇʲôÎÊÌ⡣ÿÌìÎÒÃÇ·òÆÞÁ©¶¼Îª¶ùÅ®²»ÓÃÃæ¶ÔµÄÒ»ÇлµÊ¶øÐÄ»³¸Ð¼¤¡£ÃÀ¹úУ԰ǹս¶ÔÎÒÃǺ¢×ÓÀ´ËµÊDZÜÖ®²»¼°µÄÉç»áÓÞ´ÀÐÐΪµÄ¼«ºÃ·´Ãæ½Ì²Ä¡£ Naturally, we also want to remind them of reasons to take pride in being American and to try to convey to them what that means. It is a difficult thing to do from afar, and the distance seems more than just a matter of miles. I sometimes think that the stories we tell them must seem like Aesop¡¯s (or La Fontaine¡¯s) fables, myths with no fixed place in space or time. Still, connections can be made, lessons learned.
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Last summer we spent a week with my brother and his family, who live in Concord, Massachusetts, and we took the children to the North Bridge to give them a glimpse of the American Revolution. We happened to run across a reenactment of the skirmish that launched the war, with everyone dressed up in three-cornered hats and cotton bonnets.