这是一九四七年一个光明灿烂的夏日。我父亲,一个幽默的胖男人,长着一对漂亮的眼睛,挺会说些暗里带刺的俏皮话,这时正欲决定八个孩子中究竟带谁跟他一起去县里赶集。当然,我母亲是不会去的。她光为我们大多数人做准备工作就已经累得筋疲力尽了:我支着脖子,承受着她指关节的压力,她匆忙地为我 This is a bright summer day in 1947. My father, a humorous fat man, with a pair of beautiful eyes, would have said some secretly barbarian witticisms when he was trying to decide who would go with him to the county to catch the fair. Of course, my mother will not go. She was exhausted and tired of preparing for most of us: I supported my neck and under the pressure of her knuckles, and she was in a hurry for me