Crisis in Identity. Arthur G. Kimball
79-80)
The style is that of the journalist, making the most of his dramatic material. The quick, restless pace keeps the reader on the proverbial chair's edge. The abrupt transitions continually jolt him. Repeatedly, Hersey ends the brief sections within his chapters on a dramatic, almost melodramatic pitch:
But then the doctor took her temperature, and what he saw on the thermometer made him decide to let her stay.
The priests concluded that Mr. Fukai had run back to immolate himself in the flames. They never saw him again.
He went to bed and slept for seventeen hours.
When he realized what had happened, he laughed confusedly and went back to bed. He stayed there all day. (pp. 72-73)
Thus end consecutive passages. Like a boxer's series of left jabs, they keep the reader unsteady and reeling. When he is properly "set up," the moral blow is landed. "The crux of the matter," Hersey states plainly at the end of his book, "is whether total war in its present form is justifiable, even when it serves a just purpose" (p. 115). Just to be sure, Hersey throws one last punch. A primary school child's report of the bomb furnishes the book's final words. "They were looking for their mothers," the child concludes, "but Kikuki's mother was wounded and Murakami's mother, alas, was dead" (p. 116).
Hiroshima was a timely book.3 It furnished the English-reading West with a dramatic and exciting—but not too grisly-account of the event that terminated the war. It sold, and continues to sell, innumerable copies. Ibuse's work is of a different design, however, as the following quotation suggests:
A young woman who came along almost naked, with a naked baby, its face almost entirely covered with blood, strapped to her back facing to the rear instead of the normal way.
A man whose legs were moving busily as though he were running, but who was so wedged in the wave of humanity that he achieved little more than a rapid mark-time....
Shigematsu had reached this point in his copying when Shigeko called from the kitchen: "Shigematsu! Whatever time do you think it is? I'd be grateful if you'd call it a day and come and have your dinner."
"Right! Just coming." Getting up, he went to the kitchen. He had been putting off dinner until now, staving off hunger while he copied out his journal of the bombing by munching home-made salted beans. Shigeko and his niece Yasuko had had their dinner long ago, and Yasuko, who was catching the first bus to Shinichimachi in the morning to go to the beauty parlor, had already gone to bed in the box room. (pp. 58-59)
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.