Prose is a narrative literary genre that expresses the author’s true feelings and has a flexible writing style. The word "prose" probably appeared during the period of Taiping and Xingguo in the Northern Song Dynasty (December 976-November 984). Next, I will bring the following content, I hope it will be helpful to you! Appreciation of Zhang Xiaofeng's Classic Prose Chapter 1
Once, when I was walking through a lotus pond in the rain, I saw a pond of green clouds stretching out, with a single half-opened red lotus standing among them.
I was stunned by it for a moment. It looked like a red lotus that had not yet bloomed and was speechless. It was a red lotus that was not yet red and had no fragrance!
The rain is falling all over the sky but indifferently, there is such a red lotus in the vast and unreachable gray! Like a fire about to light up, like a can of color about to be poured out! I stood by the pool. Although I didn't want to catch the moon, I almost lost my footing.
Isn’t life just like a rain? You once jumped for joy in it ignorantly, you once meditated in it obsessively - but more often than not, you had to endure the cold and damp, the helplessness and loneliness, and live with the fantasy of a sunny day.
However, look at that lotus, how solitary and selfless it is in the rain. When there is no sunshine, it itself is the sunshine. When there is no joy, it is joy itself! There is such a perfect and self-sufficient world in a lotus!
A pool of green, a pool of silent songs, on an unobtrusive roadside in the countryside - is the truth only found in philosophy books? Doesn’t the answer only exist in the academy? How much beauty beyond the image can be drawn by a simple stroke of raindrops, and how much pride of the world can be supported by a green leaf!
If there is a lotus in the pond, if there is a lotus in the heart, then why bother with the long rainy season?
Those who have read Baiyun by Emperor Gaozu of the Han Dynasty, Peony by Emperor Xuanzong of the Tang Dynasty, Dasanguan by Lu Fangweng, that wind, today also read your black hair, and you are wearing a windbreaker, Walking in the wind of the ages. Appreciation of Zhang Xiaofeng's classic prose 2
I also want to make a fake old-fashioned stove under the gas stove. When I was a child, I read Liu Dabai's poems and wrote about the touching scene of the village woman's face being reflected by the stove fire. I couldn't refuse. The temptation of the old stove, I raced all over Taipei to find a stove door made of pig iron...
The incident seems to have started in that corridor.
The corridor is quite wide, almost six feet wide and eighteen feet long. In Taipei, where land is at a premium, it seems that it has long been qualified to be turned into a house.
However, I like an empty corridor.
However, it is also a luxury to be "empty". The front porch finally turned into a stack, and the things piled up were all the big things that I couldn't bear to throw away after the performances in those years. For example, a piece of A large fishing net made of hemp rope as thick as a thumb once symbolized a struggling and frustrated life in the opening scene of "Wuling Man".
Two poufs made of twisted wood, and several tin sheets that the director admired were used to create the effect of twisting spasms when Bian and his wife gave birth in "He's Wall"...those The things on the stage, in the vicissitudes of sound, light and electricity, are certainly moving, but piled on the front porch of an apartment on the fourth floor, they are so wretched and dirty that it makes people short of breath as soon as they enter.
Another reason for the incident was that a disaster occurred at home, which was what Mr. Yu Guangzhong called a "book disaster". Both of them love books, but what they study is different, so they each buy their own books. The original bookcase couldn't fit in, and it was full of holes, making it difficult to move around. What's deplorable is that the next time I went out on the street, I bought piles of them in my arms and shoulders in excitement and forgetfulness.
Of course, there is another benefit to reading books. I was newly married at the time and rented an old-style tatami house. There was a short banyan tree in the front yard, and a coral vine blooming behind the house, between the trees and vines. We don't feel that the ten square meters of space is small. If we weren't stumbling around due to the stack of books, we wouldn't think of buying a house in such a hurry.
Unexpectedly, after buying a house, I found out within a few years that I had become "worth a million". Qiu Yonghan said that "the poor become rich because of books", which is true in my family. This is just a more correct statement, it should be "the poor become rich because they want to buy a house to use as a bookcase."
After a few years, we gradually added some bookshelves.
A few years later, I moved my books to the research room of the school and told everyone I met that I had arranged a "little mansion for books." After this great migration, the books got along with each other for a while.
But after a few years, the "book edge was still swollen". After much deliberation, I planned to completely turn a nine-foot-high and twenty-foot-long wall into a book wall.
It was the summer vacation at that time, and I planned to have a good time. I had never learned interior acting in my life, but I had a vague feeling that I would like it. The original plan was just to tidy up the front porch and build a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, but unexpectedly the plan got bigger and bigger. "If one room cannot be cured, how can the world be cured?" Finally decided to renovate the whole house.
The weather was extremely hot, so I sat quietly late at night, like an old monk in meditation, thinking about the whole house. Suddenly, the past and present lives of the house and the next life all came to my eyes, so I couldn’t help but think about it. I figured out the steps as a teacher. First, I had to go to Taipei City in person to find materials. Over the years, I have become more and more admiring of "pure ideas". If there is no certain material on the market, the idea of ????the design drawing will be Not established.
I looked for tiles first. The color of the floor can better determine the tone of the room. Tiles are really beautiful things - although there are some that make people feel sick. I chose small brick red kiln-made square tiles to pave the front porch. The kiln-made tiles look like baked pancakes, and every stripe looks like a pattern of fire. The kitchen is paved with earthy yellow, and the bathroom is paved with dark blue Roman porcelain. Bricks, in order to save money, I calculated the exact number and only bought twenty-seven bricks.
In two weeks, I saw all the tiles in Taipei and made some new friends who sell tiles. I feel extremely proud.
The estimate for the kitchen sink came out. The stainless steel kitchenware alone cost 70,000 to 80,000 yuan. I was shocked. I didn’t want to buy that thing. I had my own way to solve it.
Go to the used wood store on Jianguo South Road. It was my usual place. I didn’t buy anything, just to walk around and look at the old wood, cypress, fir, and cedar. ...lying quietly in the sun and among the vines. That afternoon I easily bought an eight-foot-long old fir tree for only thirty yuan. I wanted to take a taxi home, but unexpectedly the wood was too long and couldn't fit in, so I carried it and walked to Xinyi at sunset. On the way to catch the bus, his posture was quite like a soldier carrying a gun.
When I got home and painted the wood with clear paint, the texture and spots were all revealed like a sculpture. It was really beautiful. I asked workers to nail the wood to the wall, and then nailed some thick iron nails to the wood (the kind of nails are as thick as a finger and have a 90-degree hook. I bought them on Chongqing North Road. It is said that they were originally used to nail rails. Used) kettles, jugs, and pans are hung on it, which is quite reminiscent of the American colonial period.
In fact, the bright white kettles and the big-bellied water jugs sold on the boats in Kaohsiung are very beautiful things. It would be a pity to spend 70,000 to 80,000 yuan to buy stainless steel kitchenware to hide them. I even think that a pan and a flower pot are as eye-catching objects, so there is no need to hide their clumsiness.
I decided to make a fake old-fashioned torch under the gas stove. I couldn’t resist the temptation of an old stove. When I was a child, I read Liu Dabai's poem, which described the touching scene of a village woman's face being illuminated by the stove fire. I don't know if it was because of that poem that I actually went all over Taipei looking for a stove door made of pig iron. Some people said there was one in a certain iron factory, some said there was one in Yingge, some said there was one in Houzhan Station, some said there was one in Wanhua... I didn't care whether the source of the information was reliable or not, but I seriously went to ask each house.
I walked to Shuanglian, where I lived when I was a child. As I walked, the Taipei of the 20s and 30s surged like waves under my feet. I used to love eating those little round sesame pancakes with a small hole in the middle. (Eh! You might as well buy another one to eat now.) I once watched the clam shells in a wild stage opera in a crowded crowd. How the spirit floats and sinks in the churning waves. It turned out that there was a big quagmire next to the railway. I can’t remember whether those large green leaves were taro leaves or lotus leaves. I only remember that once when I went to pick leaves, I almost sank in. The more anxious I became, the harder I could get out. ...
Thirty years have passed since a little girl turned into a woman, and the twins are still bustling twins. But now as I walked, like magic, I turned a woman back into a little girl.
It was so hot that as I walked along, I forgot that I was going out to buy a stove door. I was suddenly startled and left quickly. I had to buy a stove door, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to make a stove.
"What is a kitchen door?" A young man asked his old man loudly after hearing my words.
I continued walking forward, that guy was probably too young.
"Follow me to the warehouse behind to have a look.
"Finally, an old man agreed to let me go through the inventory of used goods.
"Oh," he asked naggingly, "no one in Taipei uses a stove door. How did you think of using a stove? From the door? "Oh my God, he really found it! He couldn't remember the price, so he went to look for an old account book in the dust.
I happily handed over the stove door to the plasterer to install it. They still don't believe that this thing is not extinct.
Of course there is no burning firewood in the stove door, but I also put some bottles and cans in my stomach.
p>
I don’t know if any of the thousands of apartments in Taipei City have a “fake stove” in the kitchen. I feel like I have suffered so much in the kitchen with a fake stove made of brown and red tiles. It is a reasonable thing to comfort yourself. Ever since I got this stove, my husband has always used the kitchen as a viewing place to show his friends. Some people actually think that I really have a stove, and I will not tell it. .
The doctor who delivered the children retired, and he held the closing ceremony. Not long after, the original Japanese-style house of the hospital was demolished. One day, I had a whim and wanted to see it. Look at the old site of that house. It was also summer in that house, and the doctor once told me about my first pregnancy. My husband and I walked out of that alley and went home, with thousands of words in our hearts... The birth of the child. , the child got bigger and bigger on the little baby scale, and finally he was almost as tall as his parents...
And the hospital was in ruins at the moment, and I thought of the distant life, old age, illness and death...
p>
Suddenly, I lowered my head, and surprisingly, I found some wood carvings that had been torn apart by workers. I lay on the ground and took a closer look. I couldn't help but feel excited. It was such a beautiful painting of squirrel grapes. I hugged it quickly! I picked up a bunch of them and went home. When it got dusk, I brought my husband, who was not yet well-trained and shameless. The content of the second operation was to pull out some golden kudzu and carry some of the kind of things that country people sit on. The stool came back in a big way
The old-style continuous wood sculpture was a little cracked, so we glued it together with strong glue and hung it on the front porch. We also spent another 40 yuan to buy it and put it on the old material. A brown corner tile that was turned inside out was also hung on the wall. His interest suddenly became higher and higher, and he proudly pushed away some very beautiful decoration reference books given by others. It was designed by someone for a house covering an area of ??two acres, and it had nothing to do with us. I became more and more confident in myself.
I took a fancy to a pottery urn in a neighboring lane and wanted to "cheat it." "Come.
I walked to the door of the house and bought a pot of plants that cost 100 yuan from the old woman. She was an "amateur gardener" and often planted random things in broken barrels and jars. Occasionally, someone would buy flowers and plants from her. Her asking price was not cheap, but I paid the money without hesitation, then pretended to be casual and pointed at the pottery urn and said:
"Can you give me the enclosed one?" good? "
"Oh, I used to make wine, but I haven't done it for many years. If you want it, just take it! "
I was so happy that I almost laughed out loud. It was a small test and it turned out that I am also so deceitful. She thought I thought the potted plant was too small and wanted to transplant it into a pottery urn. That old woman has always been very careless. If I let her know that I fell in love with that pottery urn, she would have to knock it hard.
Although the pottery urn is only about a foot high, its capacity is amazing. During the Chinese New Year, I bought it from a countryman on a cart. The Chinese cabbage and radishes that came were stuffed in, and it felt vaguely like a happy new year in the cellar of a northern farmhouse.
During the Chinese New Year, the Yangmingshan oranges were stored in a small mouthful of water. The jar, that jar was also picked up. The original owner didn't want it when the illegal buildings were being demolished in the alley. The jar usually contains newspapers that I want to read but don't have time to read.
We bought it at the bucket store. There are two wooden barrels with bamboo hoops on them. The big one holds rice and the small one holds sugar. I used dark brown cedar wood to paint the barrels and put them in the kitchen. < /p>
My mother-in-law had an old and stupid black box with iron corners on all sides. My mother-in-law said she wanted to throw it away, but I liked the stupid look of it, so I bought it and used it as a coffee table for the whole room.
p>Inside the box is a small box for a family. I have always been superstitious that "every child grows up with a small box", a cicada shell, a butterfly note, a cocoon, and a piece of paper. Stone, such a trivial concern of a small box.
Then, when people grow up, the box also gets bigger, with a pot, a needle, a desk, and a mirror that can accommodate two, three, and four people... One day I find that the box has grown into a house, and the boys and girls have grown into men and women. , that box is home.
I once bought five chimes in Changhua, arranged them from big to small, and now put them on the bookshelf. Every time I get tired, I knock them one by one, and for a moment it feels a bit " The illusion that there are no people walking on ancient trees, and there is no clock in the mountains."
I have never found that playing with houses is so fun. I wonder if it looks like a "family wine" to others? It turns out that interior design can be done without wallpaper or carpets.
When I went to Penghu alone for the first time, I stood in front of a small shop in surprise.
"What is that?"
"The spine of a whale, and the other thing that looks like a long knife is the ribs of a whale."
"How can there be a whale? Bones? "
"There was a whale that washed up on the shore and died for some unknown reason. Then the sea washed away the bones for who knows how many years, and only the bones were left. Someone found it, picked it up, and put it here. Sell ??it. If it's a newly dead whale, the bones are full of oil. How much does a spine cost?
I bought the biggest one, with such huge spinal segments radiating in three directions. Some creatures are still very dignified even if they die with only bones left.
When I went to Penghu for the second time, I walked around in the market and saw an ox yoke with dense bamboo roots. I liked it so much. I always thought that only wood can be used to make yokes. , I didn’t expect the oxen from Penghu to pull the bamboo yoke.
"Why did you buy this?"
Although I paid the same 180 yuan as others, the boss was very disapproving. I want to tell him that there is a book called "The Bible", in which there is a passage in the Gospel of Matthew that says this:
"Take my yoke upon you and learn from me."
I want to say again:
"It is not just the oxen that bear the yoke to plow the fields. We also have to pick up the yoke, lower our heads, and walk slowly for a long and arduous journey. "
But I didn't say anything, I just accepted some harmless smiles along the way, and carried the yoke and my husband back to Taipei.
As for the ornaments, I like the method of "no word has no origin" in the poem. In other words, I like things with stories and origins.
Now, the fish bone is on the coffee table in the living room, like an incense burner with religious meaning. The yoke hangs on the high wall like a "totem of the sufferer."
Hung above the bed is a sieve. Because of its many holes, Taiwanese people use it to foretell hundreds of descendants when they get married. Of course we don’t want hundreds of children and thousands of grandchildren, but only two children and four grandchildren, so we found a “symbolic meaning” for the sieve. The sieve can also mean “spiritual continuity.” However, these are irrelevant. Basically, I come from the perspective of ordinary art. Be amazed at the beauty of the sieve. There were two dried red corns and fish corns bought in New Mexico in the sieve. How could the two corns grown by Indians end up in the sieve made by the Chinese?
It can only be said to be fate! Apart from fate, how can you explain the gathering and separation of people and things, or the gathering and separation of things?
In addition to these, there is another thing that I have been thinking about but can't get my hands on. That is the stone mill. It is too heavy and has no chance, so I have to forget it.
The husband bought two straw brooms through the central countryside, which was his only contribution to the earth-shaking incident in the whole house (the work was indeed done from the ceiling to the floor). I nailed them to the wall separately and regarded them as paintings. A broom plus a woman is a "woman". Thinking that I have been a broomsticker for half my life, a passage gradually came to my mind. I asked someone to ask Mr. Tai Jinnong if he could write it, and Mr. Tai agreed. The passage goes like this. ：
"Dukang used straw to make wine, and the rest was used to make brooms. (Referring to the straw broom as the residue after taking straw to make wine) The wine makes the world unique, and the broom makes the ancient Qing Dynasty. I want to wash the world with the East China Sea. "
Sometimes I stare at the wall in a daze. I don't know why. Sometimes I feel that Mr. Tai's calligraphy is already hanging there. Even the one I always wanted to hang at the door of my bedroom." "There is a nest" and "Suiren" hanging in the kitchen are written together and hung there in a daze - although I have not yet visited the calligrapher.
When school started in September, my enthusiasm for interior design slowly cooled down, but I always remember that I had a great time playing with houses that summer. Appreciation of Zhang Xiaofeng's classic prose Part 3
I like Zhang Xiaofeng and her prose - it brings me into a beautiful world. "I like the sunshine in winter, unfolding in the confused morning mist. I like the tranquility and distance, I like the light and heat without noisy, and at noon, the playground is full of people sitting in the sun, that kind of primitive And the simple imagery always touches my heart deeply. ""I Like", reading such words is indeed a pleasure, feeling the dance of the pen tip at the end of the article and the delicate charm of the voice. "I like the long days in summer, and I like to sit alone on the balcony near the mountain in the windy evening.
The rice waves in the small valley are surging, and the beautiful rice fragrance is rolling. Slowly. On the ground, the gorgeous clouds were purified, and the soft evening stars were in place one by one. "In this artistic conception, my heart seemed to melt into it. At this moment, the sound of color is also sweet and fragrant.
Most of Zhang Xiaofeng's proses start with telling a story, sometimes even several stories, which are all so lively and interesting - first making people laugh, and then making people think deeply. Just like what the child said when comparing electric toys to the author, "I tell you, I don't have any electric toys at all! Not one, not big ones, not small ones - you don't have to compare with me, I don't have any at all." Electric toys, let me tell you, I don’t like electric toys at all!”
Fascinating stories always touch my heart. It’s ridiculous to measure life by electric toys! Naturally, at the end of "Life, Measured in What Units" she told me, "I am me, not in kilograms, not in centimeters, not in terms of IQ, not in degrees, not in terms of the number of best-selling "books." I am not included in the measurement. Unit." The sentence "I am me" clarifies the theme. Zhang Xiaofeng's prose is always eloquent and elusive, and finally the truth is vaguely and mysteriously stated.
What impressed me most was "What's Up There" - the candidates for tribal chieftains faced the problem of climbing to the top of the mountain, and one only walked to the foot of the mountain, where there were flowers lined the road, flowing water, and birdsong. Ying Ying; Another person climbed to the mountainside and saw tall and solemn pine forests and buzzards circling, but unfortunately it was not the top of the mountain; only the last person persisted to the top of the mountain, "There is nothing at the top. All you can see is yourself, only yourself." The insignificance of an "individual" being placed between heaven and earth can only remind me of the sadness of heroes throughout the ages."
What is left to me is endless thinking and reverie, and I can continue to write this story endlessly. Gently close the "Collected Prose of Zhang Xiaofeng", slowly close your eyes, recall each beautiful prose, each vivid story, and feel it with your heart. Like, I like Zhang Xiaofeng and her prose... Appreciation of Zhang Xiaofeng's classic prose 4
The students who came to interview sat in a row on the sofa in the living room, and one of them asked:
"Read In your work, I found that your emotions are very delicate, and you are said to be caring, but caring is easy to get hurt, right? What should I do?"
I glanced at her, how young she is, What a young cheek. If you want to ask some questions, you should ask the years. Ask me, what can I answer? But her bright eyes were fixed on me, and I suddenly laughed, almost in a narrow tone. < /p>
She looked at me in surprise and couldn’t answer for a while.
In this life, a heart may be bruised, burned, frostbitten, bruised, crushed, sprained, or even internally injured. How can it not be hurt at all? If care and love must include injury, then there will be no need to be complete, only torn. What makes Christ different from the world is not the wounded palms with nail marks still visible?
Little girl, just because you are young, and just because your shiny skin is so complete, you are afraid of getting hurt because you are reluctant to bump into it! Appreciation of Zhang Xiaofeng's classic prose Chapter 5
If the author were a flower
Flowers are similar every year, but people are different every year.
In the poetry selection class, I wrote the sentences on the blackboard and asked the students:
“Is this sentence good?”
“Okay! "
Their voices sound sincere. Perhaps at the age when they are forced to talk about sorrow, they are easily moved by such neat, playful and melancholy sentences, right?
"This is a poem, written more elegantly. In fact, there is a Xinjiang folk song, which has a similar meaning, but is more popular. Do you know what the lyrics say?"
They responded quickly and immediately rushed to shout out:
The sun will set and it will still come up tomorrow morning.
The flowers will wither and bloom the same next year.
The beautiful bird flies away and never looks back.
The bird of my youth will never come back.
The bird of my youth will never come back.
The lively character just started singing.
"Both of these sentences are good sentences from a perceptual point of view, but from a logical point of view, they are unreasonable - of course, literary expression does not have to be logical, but I still hope that Can you see where the problem is?"
They looked at each other and recited the sentence carefully, but no one could answer it. I waited for them, waiting for the room full of rosy and smart faces, but finally gave up, just because I was too young, and some sadness is not easy to detect.
“Do you know why we say ‘flowers are similar’? It’s because they are unfamiliar, because we don’t understand flowers. Just like a hundred years ago, we in China rarely saw foreigners, so in our eyes , they all look the same, but now that we have seen more, we realize that there is a big difference between foreigners and foreigners. Even if they are all Americans, some people have the ability to see the difference between living in New York, San Francisco and a small southern city.
We see last year’s flowers as the same as this year’s flowers because we are not flowers and have never known or experienced flowers. If we were not human beings but flowers, we would say: ‘Look, everyone on campus There are new and fresh faces every year, but our flowers seem to grow older every year. '
Similarly, although the birds in Xinjiang songs never come back, so do the sun and flowers. What is gone will never come back. The sun knows it, and the sun also has to say: 'When we rose this morning, we were already weaker and older than yesterday. It is strange that human beings always have young faces from generation to generation...'
< p> We are human beings, so we feel the vicissitudes of human affairs. In fact, there is nothing in the world without birth, old age, illness, and death. Just because we are human beings, we can only see human pain when we speak. Guess, the author of that poem If it were a flower, how would you write it? ""Every year the people are the same, but the flowers are different every year." They answered in unison.
In fact, they are not stupid, no, they can even be said to be smart, but why didn’t they understand it at all just now?
Just because you are young, just because you don’t know the sadness of the failure of life in the universe!