In the third paragraph, the author slows down every time he passes here, in order to think about life and life, because city life starts here. At the same time, this sentence also plays a transitional role in the context
The last paragraph expresses that in the city, I still miss my childhood country and yearn for that beautiful place physically and mentally.
Comments:
First, the author is good at creating atmosphere and pictures: the author began to understand the life situation from an accidental experience of meeting with the spring rain. I want to start with the story of buying books by chance and the scenery that caused discussion and lyricism. Maybe not. If not, it is the author's talent for creating plots, so it is easier for readers to get into the topic. The film-like narrative at the beginning of the article gradually unfolded a picture of a riverside city for us (in fact, it is Hefei, because I have been there at the beginning of this century, so I know a little about this city). Then, an old man who has passed the age of knowing his destiny (hereinafter referred to as the author) went to the bookstore to buy books, and then when he was ready to go home, it happened to rain. This is the spring rain. Think about it, the willows just sprouted in spring, and the first rain that happened by chance changed the face of the city. What a pleasant thing it is, even ordinary writing will add color in this way. ). When we walked to our alma mater, the author used the scenery beside the school "Purple plum, several magnolia trees ……" to create a picture "just like the painting scene written by Monet, the impressionist master of the 9th century/kloc-"(this way not only makes the image vivid, but also reduces a lot of ordinary descriptions and excessive pen and ink rendering). In addition, the words "purple plum, magnolia" used here are also empathetic props in the text, which are arranged for the needs of the plot. The ability to create a picture depends on the author's thinking structure, or the pre-existing knowledge in the brain. For example: choose two painters to paint the same picture, and then look at it after painting, and the scenery is completely different. What I want to say here is that the author's own aesthetic views and personal preferences are fully revealed here. What belongs to the individual brain is a person's talent, that is, the talent of artistic feeling. Facing the picture, everyone has this or that feeling about things, but whoever can attract people to be moved will feel good and have a high artistic talent. From this perspective, since everyone can identify beauty and ugliness, why can't they be drawn? It's like watching Liu Xiang win the world championship. This topic ends here and does not belong to the topic discussed in this article.
Secondly, the author created the internal tension of the article: the author's memories of the past were triggered by his alma mater, and the sadness brought by the memories opened a beautiful rural picture for us in the hazy spring rain. The author first described the beauty of the countryside for us with profound knowledge of ancient poetry and concise and exquisite sentences. Then, with a change of pen, he elaborated on the city in detail. Argumentation needs the help of strong knowledge, and this kind of argument is not easy for ordinary scholars to intervene, which may destroy the elegance of the article structure. However, the author's skill is really sophisticated. He launched an all-round siege of the city very professionally, saying that the city was full of nonsense (if I were the mayor, I would definitely send the police to send him back to his hometown for labor reform), which was in strong contradiction with his vacant position in the city. The stronger this contradiction is, the greater the internal tension of the article, which also makes the extremely sad scene described at the end of the article more authentic. A good-looking martial arts film relies on the tension full of suspense. In the early martial arts films, everyone should remember that ninjas are always bullied by others first, and the stronger the bullying and insult, the better, which will arouse the strong indignation of the audience, and then ninjas will fight back with all their strength, and the tension between the audience and ninjas will form an isomorphism, which will push the film to a climax.
Thirdly, the author's beautiful language and rhetoric methods: language is a person's innate talent, and each author has different ways to describe the same meaning. I remember that the language of Sun Li, the Lotus School, was highly praised by many scholars: "The moon rises, and the yard is cool and clean. Broken reed eyebrows moisten during the day, just to make a mat. The woman sat in the middle of the yard, her fingers twisted with silky and slender reed eyebrows. Lu Mei is sparse and jumps in her arms. " Let's read this language. It is as mellow as listening to birds singing. If a big boy makes love in this language, he won't charm girls!
Although the author doesn't use this language, it is extremely fluent and natural to read, and the words are in twos and threes, and the pronunciation is harmonious, which requires the author to have a profound knowledge of ancient literature and a talent for language (the language is related to people, the style of writing is as chic as people, and people with taste can speak well! )。 Then there is the rhetorical method of empathy: "Everything is blurred. The street trees that were pleasing to the eye just now have gradually withered. It seems that purple leaf plum is lingering, and magnolia is sad. They know that all the flowers in bloom are lonely. Will they be ashamed of the spring rain? " In this passage, "Purple plum, several magnolia plants ..." became the lyrical prop of the author, and Monet's oil painting, which was just wonderful, became a sad Lin Daiyu (it can also be turned into Dou E if necessary, according to the emotional truth). Wang Zengqi said: "Words are like dough in the hands of a pastry chef. You can pinch it if you want." Looking back on the whole story, the author's sigh over the life situation shrouded in the hazy spring rain is melancholy and desolate, which constructs a desolate aesthetic feeling. He touched me, and I wonder if he will touch other readers. Prose should go straight to the heart and need to be created with emotion.
spring rain
The city where I live lies between the Yangtze River and Huaihe River. Every year in early spring and February, there will be one or several spring rains, every year.
In the morning, I went to Aichi Bookstore in Sanxiaokou, bought new editions of Hetong Miscellaneous Notes and Vientiane of the Month, paid for the books, and walked back along Changjiang Road. Just arrived at the west gate, there was a gust of wind, and the rain followed. Thanks to my wife's advice, I prepared an umbrella before I left. I quickly opened it, and there was music on the umbrella, and the sound of rain drowned out the sound of chaos in the city. I'm really happy. I think it's the God of Spring dancing on my umbrella. Not far to the west, I have to pass a campus, which is my alma mater. There are a row of purple plums and several magnolia trees along the street. Purple plums are in bud and magnolia is in full bloom. At first glance, it looks very much like the painting scene written by Monet, the impressionist master of the 9th century.
Every time I pass by here, I will subconsciously slow down or pause. It is this school that brings me together with this city. Otherwise, I may have a different living environment and circumstances. Standing under the umbrella, the sound of rain all over the sky seems to have sent me into a time-space framework, making me ripple back and forth in the span of 47 years.
Before I entered this campus, my world was the countryside. This village is located at the northern foot of Dabie Mountain. Although the mountain is not high, the water is not long, the cold and summer alternate, the sun and the moon rise and fall, the leaves spit and swallow, and the flowers are full of fruits. The rural world, like the scenery in the rain, vaguely exudes melancholy beauty and carries hazy dreams. In a word, everything in the countryside is lonely and beautiful.
Although he is a descendant of a countryman, he is a scholar after all. From an early age, he learned that people have always had different understandings and wishes about "city": in the eyes of historians, the city is a history book that records the course of human civilization; In the minds of literati, the city is a stage for the interpretation of sad and happy stories; In the fate of skilled craftsmen, the city is a place to show off its hands and feet; In the days of ordinary people, the city is a place to settle down. This book also tells me that in China, the relationship between cities and people is long and complicated. Officials love the city rather than the city, for the people, and love the city rather than the city.
After graduation, after many twists and turns, I finally settled in the provincial capital and became a city dweller. But what has the city brought me? For nearly half a century, chaotic city life has been like a dream. Fate sometimes makes me fall into helpless despair, and sometimes rekindles seemingly hopeless hope. For decades, walking in this maze of streets and alleys always has a sense of unease, because you never know what will happen and what you will miss. All kinds of fate and pursuit, all kinds of coincidences and mistakes are hidden between buildings and trees, which seems so melancholy and strange.
In the past, when I lived in the countryside, I always followed the rhythm of the 24 solar terms to keep pace with nature. In a city full of arrogance and prejudice, it is either indifferent to the season or anti-season. Even if the sun is shining brightly and there are no clouds in Wan Li, the media and businesses are planning one hurricane after another and "zero-profit storms". In the country, spring rain is as expensive as oil, but in the city, unless gold coins fall from the sky, the rest is none of your business.
It is true that cities are becoming more and more prosperous, and this prosperity is, in the final analysis, closely related to the hard work of countless small people, but the more cities develop, the more ordinary people appear small and helpless. The city lights up tall buildings and elites, but it doesn't take care of all the corners. What all sentient beings can feel is that a large piece has been torn down today and a large pile will be piled up tomorrow. At the same time, it is changing with each passing day, beyond recognition. It's not just an unrecognizable city, constantly creating rich people and fashion. The original colors, such as "eight-foot flute in the Spring Rain Tower" and "the rain has gone deep into the dragon lake and willow", have long been swept away by "storm" and "hurricane" with different names.
Out of the school gate, continue to the west along the overpass. After a few steps, I suddenly remembered a book I read last night. The book says: In a city that I have never been to, there lived a young painter. His city is full of rain and lush flowers and trees. He actually said that his life was "pretending": pretending to be a bird and flying; Pretend to be a fish and dive; Pretend to be a dog, you can chase rabbits; Pretending to be a cat can be called running wild in spring; Pretending to be an angel can be pure and sacred His whimsy is slightly sour: I planted myself in a flowerpot and pretended to be a flower. ..... Before you learn to bloom, you are used to withering. Reading these words, I was so surprised that I couldn't sleep all night. Why do we who live in cities pretend to be capable? But now, in the spring rain, I have realized one thing: for a city, if it is bent on getting rich, it must ignore some people and things that should be ignored; Individuals have lost a strong sense of identity with the city where they have lived for a long time, and it is inevitable that they are in Cao Cao and their hearts are in the Han Dynasty. A person, in the city, with his heart in the country, is born in reality and lives in imagination. Instead of wandering in the street, wandering in the street, it is better to play "pretend" After all, pretending is also an imagination, a game, or a strategy.
After walking through Wulidun, the rain beads jumped more happily on the umbrella and everything became blurred. The street trees, which were pleasing to the eye just now, gradually faded away from their spiritual color. It seems that purple plum is a little lingering and magnolia is a little sad. Do they know that all the flowers in bloom are lonely performances, and they are ashamed of the spring rain? I said to them: it doesn't matter, spring is always good-I understand that this may be empty talk, but if we don't have any imagination of a city, a season or a spring rain, we will really become people with nothing.
Qilitang is in sight, not far from home. Looking back on the road, it was raining in Mao Mao, and it was half windy. There is no figure, and there is no sound of a car. I seem to have returned to my childhood village, a small river in the south of the village, where a Mulan boat is moored, which can hold my body and my heart. I paddle gently and slowly-to the endless emptiness, shaking unspeakable sadness.