08/19/2026
读完了华裔作家李翊云的"Things in Nature Merely Grow" 后，一人在近黄昏的 trail 下走了很久；这本书于 2025 年出版，并于今年荣获普利策文学大奖。我本来只是因为它获奖，抱着 想看看究竟为什么会得奖 的心情开始读，却没想到，它带给我的震撼远远超出了文学本身;李翊云在书里讲得是在她的两个儿子 Vincent 和 James 不幸离世后，所经历的悲痛、接纳，以及日复一日继续生活的过程。这是一本关于失去的书，却又不仅仅是在写“失去”。她没有试图把悲伤写成一个完整的故事，而是写悲痛如何进入生活的每一个缝隙：时间、记忆、日常琐事，以及那些看似已经恢复正常的日子。有时候我觉得，我们对“走出悲伤”这件事情有一种误解，好像时间应该把一切带走，好像借助神的怜悯人最终应该学会let it go然后重新开始。可是这本书让我感受到，也许真正的接纳，并不是忘记，更不是告别。而是承认：有些失去，从来不会真正结束。
Vincent 永远是 Vincent， James 永远是 James。作为他们的父母，他们将永远是他们的父母，过去、现在和未来，并不是彼此分离的时间，而是同时存在于一个人的生命里。
正如书的背后页有这样一段话：
Vincent was and is and will always be Vincent.
James was and is and will always be James. We were and are and will always be their parents.
There is no now and then, now and later; only now and now and now and now.
读到这里，我想也许生命真正残酷的地方，就在于我们无法把“曾经”与“现在”彻底分开。那些我们爱过的人，并不会因为时间过去，就只剩下过去式。他们仍然存在于我们的记忆里，存在于我们的语言里，存在于某一个黄昏的风里，存在于我们突然想起他们的那一刻。昨晚走在 trail 上，天一点一点暗下来。树影、风、脚下的路，还有周围渐渐安静下来的世界，让我忽然觉得，“现在”也许就是生命唯一真正拥有的东西。
不是 now and then，也不是 now and later。
只是 now and now and now and now。
我们活着的时候，就好好地活在此刻。爱着的时候，就好好地爱。
After finishing Chinese-American writer Yiyun Li’s Things in Nature Merely Grow yesterday, I spent a long time walking alone on a trail at dusk. Published in 2025 and awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction this year, I initially picked up the book simply because it had won the prize, curious to understand why. I never expected it to move me so deeply,far beyond literature itself.
In the book, Li reflects on the grief, acceptance, and day-to-day living that followed the devastating loss of her two sons, Vincent and James. It is a book about loss, but it is also about so much more. She does not try to turn grief into a complete story or a journey with an ending. Instead, she writes about how grief enters every corner of life—time, memory, ordinary routines, and the days that appear, on the surface, to have returned to normal.
Sometimes I think we misunderstand what it means to “move on” from grief. We imagine that time should take everything away, and that, with God’s mercy, we should eventually learn to let it go and begin again. But this book made me feel that perhaps true acceptance is not about forgetting, and certainly not about saying goodbye. It is about acknowledging that some losses never truly end. Vincent will always be Vincent. James will always be James. And as their parents, they will always be their parents. Past, present, and future are not separate from one another; they can all exist within a single life.
On the back of the book is this passage:
“Vincent was and is and will always be Vincent.
James was and is and will always be James. We were and are and will always be their parents.
There is no now and then, now and later; only now and now and now and now.”
Reading these words, I thought perhaps the cruelest thing about life is that we can never completely separate “what was” from “what is.” The people we have loved deeply do not become merely part of the past simply because time has passed.
They remain in our memories, in our words, in the wind on a certain evening, and in those unexpected moments when we suddenly think of them.
Last night, as I walked along the trail and watched the sky slowly darken the trees, the wind, the path beneath my feet, and the world growing quieter around me—I suddenly felt that perhaps “now” is the only thing we truly have.
Not now and then.
Not now and later.
Only now and now and now and now. While we are alive, let us truly live in this moment. And while we love, let us truly love.
in Nature Merely Grow
#李翊云
#普利策
#华裔作家
