华裔作家崔维获授加拿大勋章

燕鸥and小蟹UID: 199804

来源：http://www.booktide.com/news/20050920/200509200016.html


加拿大总督伍冰枝公布82名获颁加拿大勋章(Order of Canada)人士名单，当中包括4名华人移民。华裔作家崔维新(Wayson Choy)获得一级勋章。

据报道，华裔作家崔维新在今年4月底才击败另外6位著名作家，夺得安大略省延龄草图书大奖英文书类别的桂冠。这次获奖的小说《All That Matters》，是他第一本小说《玉牡丹》(The Jade Peony)的延续，反映无数中国家庭如何在一块陌生的土地上挣扎求存，既要适应新的社会文化，又念念不忘保存华夏千年的传统。“加拿大勋章”源于1967年，是加国给予具有终身成就人士的最高荣誉。是次颁章仪式定于10月在渥太华举行。

燕鸥and小蟹UID: 199804

http://www.thebukowskiagency.com/All%20That%20Matters.htm

PRAISE FOR THE WORK OF
WAYSON CHOY:

“This is a haunted memoir, full of phantoms and secrets, but it is also full of rich historical detail and sharp, clear descriptions of daily life...  The unknown is always an alluring prospect, but this book suggests that what counts in the end is a more ordinary reality, the patience and forgiveness and sense of responsibility that make daily family life possible...  In the era of the talk-show memoir, in which telling it all passes for telling it well, Paper Shadows stands out as a thoughtful, luminous and finely crafted work.”                                – THE GLOBE AND MAIL



“In Paper Shadows, Wayson Choy has created a memoir so much more complex and faceted than the usual my-life-in-shorts saga... Just as surely as [Choy’s] mother was haunted by the ghosts of dead ancestors, Paper Shadows is haunted by unfinished business. But that may simply guarantee a sequel to this lovely, agile dance of memory.”                                                                                – NATIONAL POST


“[E]xquisitely written... Much of Choy’s artistry lies in his sense of what to avoid. He has polished the shards of his boyhood memory into gleaming jewels, but he never invests them with adult portentousness.”                         —MACLEAN’S



“Choy makes Vancouver’s Chinatown seem a microcosm of the world, and his exploration of his own particular family history allows us to reflect on large themes like home, place and our own intergenerational secrets. Paper Shadows is a healing book about life, death and coming to terms with our pasts, real or imagined.It’s haunting.”                                                                                                  – NOW

燕鸥and小蟹UID: 199804

AN EXCERPT

WHEN I HEAR the sea wind blowing through the streets of the city in the morning, I can still feel my father and the Old One – together – lifting me up to stand on the railing of a swaying deck; still feel the steady weight of one of Father’s arms around my chest and of Poh-Poh’s thickly jacketed arm locked safely around my legs.  I was three then, in 1926, but I can still hear their shouting, “Kiam-Kim, hai-laa Gim San!”, their thin voices full of relief and excitement, “Kiam-Kim, look at Gold Mountain!”.
   I remember the taste of salt air, seeing the rising line of the mountain peaks, of feeling my senses awakened by the ship’s roll and pitch; and my sudden, panicked pressing of a palm over each small ear to dim the assault of squawking gulls, the fragments of living sky that swirled and plunged into the waste being discharged from the ship’s belly.
   The world grew more immense and even stranger than I could have ever imagined; I fell back and curled deep into Poh-Poh’s jacket to hide my head.  Father swiftly reached out and put me down to stand up by myself.  Poh-Poh did not stop him.
   “We are near Gold Mountain,” Father said, his Toishan words shouting above other excited voices.  He bent forward, his two hands clutched the top rail, holding his place against a crowd of others, and he looked ready for anything.  I put my two small hands on the bottom rail, and threw my three-year-old head back, and tried to look as bold and as unafraid as Father.  Poh-Poh looked behind her, through her nearly seven decades of life, as if she knew then what would be true:  she would journey only one way, and never return.  Shakily, she put one wrinkled hand on my shoulder and with the other hand she gripped the rail.  The Old One looked ahead, as Father and I did, and when I turned to her to point out the swooping gulls, her eyes were filled with tears.
   The ship pushed ahead, blowing its horn.  My own eyes were stinging, too, from the blasts of sea wind as the prow rose and fell, and heaved into a narrow inlet.  Now I could make out ahead of us the shadow of landing docks and the skyline of Vancouver.
   Along that curving shoreline, a long train pulled countless freight cars and snaked its way into the city, as if it were racing us to the docks.  Its engine discharged white clouds that rose and disappeared against the snow-topped mountain peaks.
   “See?”  Father said, kneeling down to shout above the squawking gulls and chaotic machinery cranking away in the ship’s belly.  “I told you there would be trains.”
   I laughed and jumped about until Poh-Poh firmly gripped my shoulder to stand still.  The wind was chilly.  The Old One bent down to lift my coat collar around my ears.
   “Listen, Kiam-Kim,” Father said.  “Can you make out the train whistle?”
   I listened.
   The pitched sound reached my ears.  Then, as if in its turn, the ship gave a resounding blast.  The gulls rose in a cloud. In the distance, the whistle began again, as if the ship and train were talking to each other, each racing toward the same point of land.  People behind us applauded.  Father raised his hand to shield his eyes against a surge of mountain wind.
   “We’re here, Mother,” Father said to Poh-Poh.
   “We’re here,” I said to them both.
   Poh-Poh gripped me tighter.
   The train, whistling, disappeared behind a shoreline of low buildings, but I could still see the great puffs of smoke.    Caught between the walls of warehouse buildings, the train’s whistling echoed even louder.
   “The cries of a dragon,” Poh-Poh said to me.

秋天的童话UID: 189247

华人在国外生活都很辛苦
能获得这样的荣誉很不容易啊

燕鸥and小蟹UID: 199804

是啊
这些荣誉都是用曾经的辛苦积累起来的