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马丁•泰特尔,一个迷恋打字机的人

<< 返回名人风采 2012-12-12来源:口译
Martin Tytell, a man who loved typewriters, died on September 11th, aged 94 马丁泰特尔,一位与打字机相爱的人,逝于9月11日,享年94岁 ANYONE who had dealings with manual typewriters-the past tense, sadly, is necessary

 

Martin Tytell, a man who loved typewriters, died on September 11th, aged 94

马丁•泰特尔,一位与打字机相爱的人,逝于9月11日,享年94岁

ANYONE who had dealings with manual typewriters-the past tense, sadly, is necessary-knew that they were not mere machines. Eased heavily from the box, they would sit on the desk with an air of expectancy, like a concert grand once the lid is raised. On older models the keys, metal-rimmed with white inlay, invited the user to play forceful concertos on them, while the silvery type-bars rose and fell chittering and whispering from their beds. Such sounds once filled the offices of the world, and Martin Tytell’s life.

任何曾与手动打字机打过交道的人(很遗憾用了”曾”字,但这是必要的)都知道打字机不只是机器,他们悄然离开箱子,带着期待着神气坐在桌子上,就像一架架刚打开盖子的平台大钢琴。白体镶黑边的老款打字机的键盘向使用者发出邀请,请他们演奏强有力的协奏曲,同时银色的打印杆一升一降,嗒嗒作响。这种声音曾在世界各地的办公室里回荡,也贯穿了泰特尔的一生。

Everything about a manual was sensual and tactile, from the careful placing of paper round the platen (which might be plump and soft or hard and dry, and was, Mr Tytell said, a typewriter’s heart) to the clicking whirr of the winding knob, the slight high conferred by a new, wet, Mylar ribbon and the feeding of it, with inkier and inkier fingers, through the twin black guides by the spool. Typewriters asked for effort and energy. They repaid it, on a good day, with the triumphant repeated ping! of the carriage return and the blithe sweep of the lever that inched the paper upwards.

手动的装置意味着感官上的喜悦,有细心地把纸装进压纸卷筒(有的又松又软,有的又硬又干,用泰特尔的话说,压纸卷筒是打字机的心脏),有紧手轮的嗡嗡声,有新装的美拉色带及其油墨通过色带卷轴的两个黑色指示标记进行略带高亢的交谈。打字机要你精力十足。心情好时他们会报偿你,用连贯的回车声进行回报,用轻快的转杆进行回报,转杆会把纸寸寸推进。

Typewriters knew things. Long before the word-processor actually stored information, many writers felt that their Remingtons, or Smith-Coronas, or Adlers contained the sum of their knowledge of eastern Europe, or the plot of their novel. A typewriter was a friend and collaborator whose sickness was catastrophe. To Mr Tytell, their last and most famous doctor and psychiatrist, typewriters also confessed their own histories. A notice on his door offered “Psychoanalysis for your typewriter, whether it’s frustrated, inhibited, schizoid, or what have you,” and he was as good as his word. He could draw from them, after a brief while of blue-eyed peering with screwdriver in hand, when they had left the factory, how they had been treated and with exactly what pressure their owner had hit the keys. He talked to them; and as, in his white coat, he visited the patients that lay in various states of dismemberment on the benches of his chock-full upstairs shop on Fulton Street, in Lower Manhattan, he was sure they chattered back.

打字机洞悉事态。早在文字处理器能存储信息之前,许多作家都感觉到他们的Remingtons、Smith-Coronas或Adlers打字机内存有他们关于东欧的知识,存有他们小说的情节。打字机是朋友,又是伙伴,他要是生病了将是一场巨大的灾难。泰特尔是打字机最后一个也是最富盛名的内外科及精神病医生,他们向泰特尔何倾述各自的人生。泰特尔的门上贴有一则通知”为阁下的打字机进行心理分析,分析他是否沮丧、抑郁亦或精神分裂”。这可不是吹牛。泰特尔只要拿着螺丝刀用他的蓝眼睛对一台打字机看上一小会儿,他就能知道这台机器的出厂时间,随后的境遇,以及他的主人敲打键盘力度的大小。当泰特尔身着白大褂,在其满满当当的楼上店铺里(位于曼哈顿福通大街)探访那些被不同程度肢解的”病人”时,他与打字机聊着天,并确信这些打字机也在同他交谈。



(责任编辑:allen)