The Thief Who Couldn't Sleep (Evan Tanner Mystery)《窘迫环境下的空

所谓类型读物，一开始都是为了满足劳苦大众的低俗文化需求迎刃而生的。所以怎么荒掉走板怎么来。可惜人总是要面子滴，一开始总是犹抱琵琶半遮面地以什么风俗读物，刑案纪实的名目出现。等到Ian Fleming 伊恩·弗莱明 出道，就明目张胆地在成人童话里满足雄性金主“香车美人”的童年幻梦。也由此造福了无数后人。而Block的睡不着觉的君子系列，算是在这类文体之中比较别致的一道风景线了。虽然说其是跟风之作有点不厚道，但美女多多，男猪超人的模式也还是万变不离其宗的。

先来看故事开篇

Chapter 1

The Turks have dreary jails. Or is that conjecture? The plural might be inaccurate for all I truly knew there might be but one jail in all of Turkey. Or there could be others but they need not be dreary places at all. I sketched them mentally a bevy of Turkish Delights bedecked with minarets their floors and walls sparkling with embedded rubies their dazzling halls patrolled by undraped Turkish maidens and even the bars on the windows lovingly polished to a glowing sheen.

土耳其的监狱全都无聊透顶。这只是我的主观臆测？说“都”毕竟不确，据我所知，指不定全土耳其也就只有这一座监狱。或许还是有其它一些的，但总不至于每所都那么沉闷吧。我憧憬中的土耳其监狱——该是尖塔林立的盘丝洞府，无论地板还是墙壁都镶嵌着闪闪发光的红宝石；在令人眼花缭乱的厅堂间穿梭巡视的是不着片褛的土耳其妙龄少女；就连装在窗户上的铁条都精心打磨得光可鉴人……。

But whatever the case there was at least one dreary jail in Turkey. It was in Istanbul it was dank and dirty and desolate and I was in it. The floor of my cell could have been covered by a nine-by-twelve rug but that would have hidden the decades of filth that had left their stamp upon the wooden floor. There was one small barred window too small to let very much air in or out too high to afford more than a glimpse of the sky. When the window turned dark it was presumably night; when it grew blue again I guessed that morning had come. But of course I could not be certain that the window even opened to the outside. For all I knew some idiot Turk alternately lit and extinguished a lamp outside that window to provide me with this illusion.

但是，不管怎么说，土耳其至少还是有一幢监狱是让人无比郁闷的。即我所身处的位于伊斯坦布尔的这间，监狱里阴冷潮湿、污浊不堪，还荒芜孤凄。我容身的牢房地板上本可以铺上九乘十一针的土耳其地毯的，但这样一来也就把他们数十年来所沉积在木地板上的脚底板的污秽陈迹给掩盖住咯。装有铁条的小窗户倒是有一扇，但小得空气都几乎无法进出，还高到让人只得瞥见一抹天光。而窗口暗下来的时候，就该是晚上了。等窗边再度泛蓝，我估摸着就又过了一天。不过话又说回来，我毕竟不知道窗是否是朝着户外开的。鬼知道是不是有个土耳其白痴在那时不时的把窗外对着的灯开开关关的给我错觉。

A single twenty-five-watt bulb hung from the ceiling and kept my cell the same shade of gray day and night. I’d been provided with a sagging army cot and a folding cardtable chair. There was a chamber pot in one corner of my chamber. The cell door was a simple affair of vertical bars through which I could see a bank of empty cells opposite. I never saw another prisoner never heard a human sound except for the Turkish guard who seemed to be assigned to me. He came morning noon and night with food. Breakfast was always a slab of cold black toast and a cup of thick black coffee. Lunch and dinner were always the same—a tin plate piled with a suspicious pilaff mostly rice with occasional bits of lamb and shreds of vegetable matter of indeterminate origin. Incredibly enough the pilaff was delicious. I lived in constant fear that misguided humanitarian impulses might lead my captors to vary my monotonous diet substituting something inedible for the blessed pilaff. But twice a day my guard brought pilaff and twice a day I wolfed it down.

天花板上倒是有一个二十五瓦的灯泡，把我的牢房日日夜夜笼罩在一成不变的昏暗光晕下。我有凹陷的行军床和折叠椅各一张，角落里还有尿壶一个。牢门是一条条的铁栏栅，透过栅栏可以看到对面一排排的牢房都空着。我就没见有其他犯人过，除了那个貌似专门指派给我的土耳其狱卒外，也从来没听到过其它人类的声息。他也就每天早、中、晚派食的时候冒一下头。早餐从来都是一片又冷又硬的黑面包和晏晏的无糖咖啡。午餐晚餐则是一样的——某种堆在生锈起毛的铁盘上的肉质可疑的盖浇饭。大都是米，偶尔零星点缀着些许羊肉末和无法辨明正身的蔬菜屑。不可思议的是，这种盖浇饭还***好吃。我每天惶惶不可终日地深怕关我的家伙基于某种人道主义观念的误导可能会一时冲动改变我单调的伙食，拿其它难以下咽的玩意取代这天幸的盖浇饭。好在狱卒每天两次送的还是盖浇饭，而我每次都吃得狼吞虎咽。

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我就很能体会这种拘束环境下的空虚是怎么折磨人的，每次都想要是能有书看就好了……所以庞德不但可以看书，还可以胡言乱语绝对是他能得诺奖的原因之一。要是我学某人一样把他抓起来后不但不给书看，还每天让他抄十万遍“我错了，我下次再也不敢了。”外加每天三万字的检讨，还不许重样的；但凡有错漏或者看不顺眼就不让睡觉，长期不让见光……我估计不用一个月人就废了！！

所以老萝卜的书挠人之处就在这里，短短不到2000字就牢牢吸引了你，你总是想着看看接下来怎样了？虽然大多时候都略嫌烂尾，老是让人忍不住想向他献上神兽“草泥马”。我总想能抓着他问“前面普铺成渲染了那么多笔墨就这样完了？主角不至于超人成这样吧，按理说……这里有破绽……”。类型小说家里没几个能让我这样的。所以每弄到一本他的书，虽然知道难免失望，但还是会拿起来翻翻……