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关键词：Christmas
Eve/圣诞节前夜，Chinese
food/中国菜 |
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话题：文化碰撞，民族自尊 |
体裁：小说 |
类型：记叙文 |
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难度级别：初级 |
词汇要求：1000 |
文章词数：500 |
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[生词可拖选或双击] |
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And even though I
didn't agree with her then,
I knew that she
understood how much I had suffered during the
evening's dinner.
餐桌上的中美文化碰撞：中国人和美国人一起吃年夜饭 |
Fish Cheeks
鱼颊
作者：Amy
Tan/谭恩美 [旅美华裔]
来源：www.readingmatrix.com
日期：2008-2-26
(旅美作家谭恩美)
I fell in love
with the minister's son the winter I turned fourteen. He was not
Chinese, but as white as Mary in the manger. For Christmas I prayed
for this blond-haired boy, Robert, and a slim new American nose.
When I found out that my parents had invited the minister's family
over for Christmas Eve dinner, I cried. What would Robert think of
our shabby Chinese Christmas? What would he think of our noisy
Chinese relatives who lacked proper American manners? What terrible
disappointment would he feel upon seeing not a roasted turkey and
sweet potatoes but Chinese food?
On Christmas Eve I saw
that my mother had outdone herself in creating a strange menu. She
was pulling black veins out of the backs of fleshy prawns. The
kitchen was littered with appalling mounds of raw food: A slimy rock
cod with bulging eyes that pleaded not to be thrown into a pan of
hot oil. Tofu, which looked like stacked wedges of rubbery white
sponges. A bowl soaking dried fungus back to life. A plate of squid,
their back crisscrossed with knife markings so they resembled
bicycle tires.
And then they arrived
--- the minister's family and all my relatives in a clamor of
doorbells and rumpled Christmas packages. Robert grunted hello, and
I pretended he was not worthy of existence.
Dinner threw me deeper
into despair. My relatives licked the ends of their chopsticks and
reached across the table, dipping them into the dozen or so plates
of food. Robert and his family waited patiently for platters to be
passed to them. My relatives murmured with pleasure when my mother
brought out the whole steam fish. Robert grimaced.
Then my father poked his
chopsticks just below the fish eye and plucked out the soft meat.
"Amy, your favorite," he said, offering me the tender fish cheek. I
wanted to disappear. At the end of the meal my father leaned back to
and belched loudly, thanking my mother for her fine cooking. "It's a
polite Chinese custom to show you are satisfied," explained my
father to our astonished guests. Robert was looking down at his
plate with a reddened face. The minister managed to muster up a
quiet burp. I was stunned into silence for the rest of the night.
After everyone had gone,
my mother told me, "You want to be the same as American girls on the
outside." She handed me an early gift. It was a miniskirt in beige
tweed. "But inside you must always be Chinese. You must be proud you
are different. Your only shame is to have shame."
And even though I didn't
agree with her then, I knew that she understood how much I had
suffered during the evening's dinner. It wasn't until many years
later --- long after I had gotten over my crush on Robert --- that I
was able to fully appreciate her lesson and the true purpose behind
out particular menu. For Christmas Eve that year, she had chosen all
my favorite foods.
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