我最新的小說《蛙》中，就出現(xiàn)了我姑姑的形象。因為我獲得諾貝爾獎，許多記者到她家采訪，起初她還很耐心地回答提問，但很快便不勝其煩，跑到縣城里她兒子家躲起來了。姑姑確實是我寫《蛙》時的模特，但小說中的姑姑，與現(xiàn)實生活中的姑姑有著天壤之別。小說中的姑姑專橫跋扈，有時簡直像個女匪，現(xiàn)實中的姑姑和善開朗，是一個標(biāo)準(zhǔn)的賢妻良母。現(xiàn)實中的姑姑晚年生活幸福美滿，小說中的姑姑到了晚年卻因為心靈的巨大痛苦患上了失眠癥，身披黑袍，像個幽靈一樣在暗夜中游蕩。我感謝姑姑的寬容，她沒有因為我在小說中把她寫成那樣而生氣；我也十分敬佩我姑姑的明智，她正確地理解了小說中人物與現(xiàn)實中人物的復(fù)雜關(guān)系。

An aunt of mine is the central character of my latest novel, Frogs. The announcement of the Nobel Prize sent journalists swarming to her home with interview requests. At first, she was patiently accommodating, but she soon had to escape their attentions by fleeing to her son’s home in the provincial capital. I don’t deny that she was my model in writing Frogs, but the differences between her and the fictional aunt are extensive. The fictional aunt is arrogant and domineering, in places virtually thuggish, while my real aunt is kind and gentle, the classic caring wife and loving mother. My real aunt’s golden years have been happy and fulfilling; her fictional counterpart suffers insomnia in her late years as a result of spiritual torment, and walks the nights like a specter, wearing a dark robe. I am grateful to my real aunt for not being angry with me for how I changed her in the novel. I also greatly respect her wisdom in comprehending the complex relationship between fictional characters and real people.

母親去世后，我悲痛萬分，決定寫一部書獻給她。這就是那本《豐乳肥臀》。因為胸有成竹，因為情感充盈，僅用了83天，我便寫出了這部長達50 萬字的小說的初稿。

After my mother died, in the midst of almost crippling grief, I decided to write a novel for her. Big Breasts and Wide Hips is that novel. Once my plan took shape, I was burning with such emotion that I completed a draft of half a million words in only eighty-three days.

在《豐乳肥臀》這本書里，我肆無忌憚地使用了與我母親的親身經(jīng)歷有關(guān)的素材，但書中的母親情感方面的經(jīng)歷，則是虛構(gòu)或取材于高密東北鄉(xiāng)諸多母親的經(jīng)歷。在這本書的卷前語上，我寫下了“獻給母親在天之靈”的話，但這本書，實際上是獻給天下母親的，這是我狂妄的野心，就像我希望把小小的“高密東北鄉(xiāng)”寫成中國乃至世界的縮影一樣。

In Big Breasts and Wide Hips I shamelessly used material associated with my mother’s actual experience, but the fictional mother’s emotional state is either a total fabrication or a composite of many of Northeast Gaomi Township’s mothers. Though I wrote “To the spirit of my mother” on the dedication page, the novel was really written for all mothers everywhere, evidence, perhaps, of my overweening ambition, in much the same way as I hope to make tiny Northeast Gaomi Township a microcosm of China, even of the whole world.

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