《父亲的手提箱》是帕慕克获得诺贝尔文学奖时的演讲词，被收录在《别样的色彩》一书中。他追溯了自己以及父亲那代人对文学的热爱和追求，父亲临终两年前交给儿子的手提箱中装载的不仅仅是他生前的手稿和笔记本，更是一位想成为诗人的年轻人的梦。

父亲的一生给了帕慕克很大的影响。帕慕克认为正是父亲给了他最大的自由，让他来追求文学。有限的文字和时间要怎样表达出最真实质朴的父子之情？可我明明从他的文字里感受到了。这就是我认为帕慕克作品的魅力所在。

“父亲到我办公室留下那个手提箱的一周后，他又来看我。和往常一样，他给我带来一块巧克力（他都忘记我已经四十八岁了）。”

“我二十二岁的时候，我放弃了其他一切，把自己关在一个房间里，完成了第一部小说，那就是《杰夫代特先生》。我用颤抖的双手把这部我用打字机敲出的，尚未出版的小说递给父亲，请他阅读后告诉我他的想法。这不仅是因为我对他的品味和才智怀有信心，还因为他的意见对我很重要。”

“我跑去给他开门，他什么都没有说，但立刻伸开双臂拥抱了我。他用这种方式使我明白，他非常喜欢我的小说......父亲用极富感情、充满夸张的语言，表达了他对我的第一部小说的信心：他说，总有一天，我会像此刻一样，站在这里，满怀巨大的欣喜，赢得这一奖项。”

在演讲词的最后他这样讲道：“今天，当我站在瑞典文学院，面对授予我这项伟大奖项、伟大荣誉的尊敬的院士们，面对尊敬的客人们，我深深地渴望，父亲能在我们中间。”

这是怎么样的一种失落和遗憾，但是我想，他的'父亲一直都在，不仅在他的身体里，在他的记忆里，在他的作品里，有时甚至一直就在他的身边，父亲根本就不曾离开过他。我能这么理解吗？不管怎么样，我愿意这样去理解，尊敬的帕慕克先生。

然而在我的世界里，我的父亲，我叫他爸爸，其实我更愿意称呼他叫老徐。在他眼里我永远是一个比他小很多的小孩。我愿意和他探讨工作上的、学习上的、生活上的事情，我总能从他那里得到我想要的答案，他的话语也总能在关键时刻点醒我，带给我灵感......有时我觉得这个世界上最懂我的人莫过于他了，可有时候，我又会难过的发现，其实他根本就不懂我。我知道，这并不是他的错！

今天又是父亲节了：老徐同志，祝你节日快乐！天天快乐！爱你！

two years before his death, my father gave me a small suitcase filled with his writings, manuscripts1 and notebooks. assuming his usual joking, mocking2 air, he told me he wanted me to read them after he was gone, by which he meant after he died.

a week after he came to my office and left me his suitcase, my father came to pay me another visit; as always, he brought me a bar of chocolate (he had forgotten i was 48 years old). as always, we chatted and laughed about life, politics and family gossip三、 a moment arrived when my father’s eyes went to the corner where he had left his suitcase and saw that i had moved it. we looked each other in the eye. there followed a pressing silence. i did not tell him that i had opened the suitcase and tried to read its contents, instead i looked away. but he understood. just as i understood that he had understood. just as he understood that i had understood that he had understood. but all this understanding only went so far as it can go in a few seconds. because my father was a happy, easygoing4 man who had faith in himself: he smiled at me the way he always did. and as he left the house, he repeated all the lovely and encouraging things that he always said to me, like a father.

as always, i watched him leave, envying5 his happiness, his carefree and unflappable6 temperament. but i remember that on that day there was also a flash of joy inside me that made me ashamed. it was prompted by the thought that maybe i wasn’t as comfortable in life as he was, maybe i had not led as happy or footloose7 a life as he had, but that i had devoted it to writing —you’ve understood... i was ashamed to be thinking such things at my father’s expense. of all people, my father, who had never been the source of my pain — who had left me free. all this should remind us that writing and literature are intimately linked to a lack at the centre of our lives, and to our feelings of happiness and guilt.

but my story has a symmetry8 that immediately reminded me of something else that day, and that brought me an even deeper sense of guilt. twenty-three years before my father left me his suitcase, and four years after i had decided, aged 22, to become a novelist, and, abandoning all else, shut myself up in a room, i finished my first novel, cevdet bey and sons;

with trembling hands i had given my father a typescript of the still unpublished novel, so that he could read it and tell me what he thought. this was not simply because i had confidence in his taste and his intellect: his opinion was very important to me, because he, unlike my mother, had not opposed my wish to become a writer. at that point, my father was not with us, but far away. i waited impatiently for his return. when he arrived two weeks later, i ran to open the door. my father said nothing, but he at once threw his arms around me in a way that told me he had liked it very much. for a while, we were plunged9 into the sort of awkward silence that so often accompanies moments of great emotion. then, when we had calmed down and begun to talk, my father resorted to highly charged and exaggerated language to express his confidence in me or my first novel: he told me that one day i would win the prize that i am here to receive with such great happiness.

he said this not because he was trying to convince me of his good opinion, or to set this prize as a goal; he said it like a turkish father, giving support to his son, encouraging him by saying, ‘one day you’ll become a pasha10!’ for years, whenever he saw me, he would encourage me with the same words.

my father died in december of xx.

today, as i stand before the swedish academy and the distinguished11 members who have awarded me this great prize — this great honour — and their distinguished guests, i dearly wish he could be amongst us.

在父亲去世的两年前，他给了我一个小小的手提箱，里面装满了他的作品、手稿和笔记本。他用平常那种搞笑调侃的口吻要我在他走后再看，这个“走”当然说的是他永远走了以后。

在父亲把箱子留到我办公室一个星期后，他又来看我了；和以往一样，他给我买了巧克力（他忘了我都48岁了）。亦如以往，我们笑谈生活、政治和家庭琐事。后来他的目光落到了他曾放箱子的那个角落，发现箱子被我移动过了。我们四目相对，陷入了令人压抑的沉默。我并没有告诉他我打开了箱子，去看里面的内容，而只是把视线移开了。然而他明白了一切。就像我明白他明白了一样。就像他明白我明白他明白了一样。但所有的明白就在几秒钟之内明白了。因为父亲是一个快乐、随和、心怀信念的人——他只是照例冲我笑了笑。当他离开时，没忘记把他作为父亲该说的那一席亲切的鼓励之词又重复了一遍。

我也同往日一样，注视着他的离开，无比羡慕他的快乐，他的无忧无虑和他处世不惊的脾气。然而，那天曾闪现在我心头，令我自愧无比的片刻的窃喜依旧记忆犹新。那是由我的这种感觉引起的——可能我没有过父亲那样舒适惬意的生活，也没有他那如此快乐、无拘无束的生活，但我献身于写作了——你明白……想到父亲为这一切所付出的代价，我惭愧极了。在所有的人中，父亲从来不曾给我带来痛苦——他完全让我自由发展。所有这些都应该让我们记住写作和文字都与我们生活中心所缺失的东西紧密相联，与我们的幸福感与负疚感息息相关。

我的故事同时也相应地提醒我那天还有让我更加内疚的一件事。在父亲留给我他的手提箱的二十三年前，在我从22岁开始决心成为一名小说家而放弃其它一切，把自己关在房间里写作之后的第四年，我完成了第一部小说《杰夫德贝伊与其子》。我用颤抖的手将未出版书的打印稿拿给父亲看，想听取一点他的

他说这话并不是为了试图要我相信他对我的好评，或是把这个奖项作为我的目标；他说这翻话就像一位土耳其父亲那样给予儿子支持，并鼓励我说：“总有一天，你会成为帕夏的！”许多年来，无论何时，他看到我都以同样的话语鼓励我。

xx年12月，父亲永远的走了。

今天，我站在瑞士文学院，站在给予我这无尚光荣奖项的各位尊敬的院士面前，我衷心地希望此刻我的父亲就在我们中间。

词汇表：

一、 manuscript n. 手稿

二、 mocking a. 取笑的，嘲弄的

三、 gossip n. 闲言碎语

四、 easygoing a. 易相处的，随和的

五、 envy v. 羡慕，嫉妒

六、 unflappable a. 临危不乱的，镇定的

七、 footloose a. 自由自在的，无拘无束的

八、 symmetry n. 对称，匀称

九、 plunge v. 使事物突然陷入

十、 pasha a. 帕夏（旧时奥斯曼帝国和北非高级文武官的称号）高级文武官

十一、 distinguished a. 著名的，高贵的

父亲的教导是我一生的指南。有时对父亲的教诲毫不在意，却尝了不在意的苦头；有时不服气，可事实总是叫我五体投地，；有时常因自己的聪明才智去轻视，没想到中了自己的诡计。也许人就这样，可怜的鼻子碰不了壁就领悟不出一定的道理。...

沙沙的春雨渐渐地停了，它洒在校园里，也洒在我的心里。我推开教室的窗户，一股馨香的空气扑了进来。梧桐树叶上还挂着的水珠，闪闪烁烁。那条通往校门的大路被春雨浸润后，再经行人一踏，留下了一行行清晰的`脚印。

窗外，鸦雀无声，树木们无精打采地蹲着。一片闷气笼罩着整个宿舍，大家都光着膀子，不敢轻举妄动。这鬼天气，只要稍微动一下就会一身大汗。但我却一点都不觉得闷，得意得傻笑着。

那天，无意中翻到一张老照片，泛黄的画面上，父亲抱着年幼的我，脸上的笑容是那么的灿烂！犹记得那时的父亲，是那么年轻，高大挺拔，充满了活力。为人和善又很有风趣，他幽默的话语，常常逗得我们哈哈大笑。

小时候老师总爱出的

亲爱的老爸：这几天工作还顺利吗？天气越来越热了，您也别贪凉，晚上开空调睡觉记得盖好被子。这些话您一定很熟悉吧，因为这些都是您平时在电话里叮嘱我的，尽管您几乎每个周末都会回家，但你一天至少要打两个电话给我，说的内容无非就是...

今天是父亲节了，晚上一定要打个电话回家问候一下老爸。不知道他现在还好吗？退休后的生活是否还习惯，离开了三十年的工作岗位肯定也会舍不得的，如同即将要离开华工的我们，一种别样的情思在心头。

初中学英语family这个单词时老师跟我说：爸father和and妈mother我i爱love你you爸妈我爱你=家庭爸爸是排第一位的把一个单词拆开来讲，解释的有板有眼，家--包含了我爸爸妈妈．家是休息的港湾。而爸爸是我的导航。

我的爸爸脑袋方方的，像个大箱子。里面东西可多了，装着许多有趣的游戏、奇怪的表情动作、大堆大堆的总结和做得不太好的饭。

爸爸的“箱子”里有无数的节目，他可以和我没大没小地玩耍、说怪话，而且每次都玩得不亦乐乎。就说那次“超级晃台搞笑剧”吧！那是我们送给妈妈独特的母亲节礼物。随着一声“大家好，欢迎大家来到‘超级晃台搞笑剧’”，我和爸爸学着小鸡走路的样子上台了。小鸡舞、螃蟹舞、机器人舞、太空走步……妈妈听了这些名字，看着这些节目，乐翻了天。你的爸爸与你这样疯玩儿过吗？

我爸爸的“箱子”里还装着一大堆总结，估计天底下再没有这么爱总结的人了。上次，我跟爸爸妈妈说：“Miss刘给我们讲，美国儿童平均每天劳动时间为1～2小时，日本儿童平均每天劳动70分钟，英国儿童平均每天劳动30分钟，中国儿童平均每天只劳动10～20分钟。”爸爸一听就嚷嚷起来：“看，看看看，人家美国的孩子每天劳动两小时哩！唉，中国的`孩子现在都变成啥样了，只知道学习，都不劳动了。看人家英国……”我和妈妈虽然知道他说的都是对的，但也有不耐烦的时候，让他停止的方法只有一个——就是说：“总结太多也无效。”

爸爸挺爱做饭，爸爸的“箱子”里还装着些绝招，虽然比不上我家两位大厨——妈妈和外公，但他做的臊子面可是他的“镇店之宝”。

爸爸的“箱子”里装着许多好东西。有多少东西呢？告诉你，东西多得这个大方箱子都快变成圆形的了！东西有多好呢？好得我爱他爱得不能再爱了！