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I had a hard time getting into it. The narrator was an old man, but he sounded more like what a young woman thought an old man might sound like.
我花了很长时间才读进去。叙述者是个老人，但他听起来更像一个年轻女人认为的老人。
Whenever I was tempted to give up on it, I thought of David. He had just started reading Infinite Jest.
每当我想放弃的时候，我就会想到大卫。他刚刚开始读《无尽的玩笑》。
I pushed through the first two chapters and discovered a new narrator in the third.
我匆匆读完了前两章，在第三章发现了一个新的叙述者。
I loved the alternating points of view. I carried the book to work.
我喜欢这种交替的观点。我带着这本书去上班。
I read at lunch and on my walk home, occasionally lifting my eyes to avoid strangers and uneven concrete.
我在午餐时间和回家的路上都在看它，偶尔抬起眼睛避开陌生人和不平整的混凝土。
“How’s your day?” David texted. “Good. A little tired,” I replied.
“你的一天怎么样？”大卫发短信问我。“很好。有点累。”我回答。
“I stayed up late and finished my book.” I tried to slip it in casually, but I was proud of myself.
我熬到很晚，看完了我的书。我曾想过随便看看它，但我是很有自尊心的一个人。
The last time I’d pulled an all-nighter to read, I was 12 and the book was Little Women.
我上次熬夜读书是在12岁的时候，那本书是《小妇人》。
It was not a competition, but there was a tug. I felt him pushing me to be more of the person I used to be and more of who I wanted to be.
这不是一场比赛，但有一个推力。我感到他在推动着我，让我更像过去的自己，更像我想成为的人。
Whenever he turned to discussing his current nonfiction book about the rise of Silicon Valley or environmental philosophers,
每当他谈到他正在出版的关于硅谷崛起或环境哲学家的非小说类书籍时，
I would tell him of fiction, of men who left their countries by hiding in boxes only to climb out and turn into birds.
我给他讲小说，讲那些离开祖国躲在箱子里，最后爬出来变成鸟的人。
I would remind him that sometimes the only way to explain the world we live in is to make it all up.
我会提醒他，有时候解释我们生活的这个世界的唯一方法就是编造。
I asked David once what he liked about me. He paused, then said, “You make me less cynical.
有一次我问大卫他喜欢我什么。他停顿了一下，然后说：“你让我不再那么愤世嫉俗了。
I see the world as a more wonder-filled place with you.” David suggested we visit the library again.
有了你，世界变得更加美好。大卫建议我们再去一次图书馆。
He asked if I remembered the game we played on our first visit. “I remember,” I said.
他问我是否记得我们第一次来的时候玩的游戏。“我记得，”我说。
He pulled a book from the shelf, dropped to one knee, and opened it.
他从书架上抽出一本书，单膝跪下，把它打开。
Inside, his Post-it read: “Karla, it has always been you. Will you marry me?”
里面，他的即时贴上写着：“卡拉，一直都是你。你愿意嫁给我吗？”
His proposal had rested between the pages of The Rebel Princess for over a year. “Yes,” I said. “I’ll marry you.”
他的求婚在《叛逆的公主》书中搁置了一年多。“愿意，”我说。“我要嫁给你。”
We embraced in the middle of the fiction aisle, surrounded by other people’s stories, about to begin our own.
我们在小说区中间拥抱在一起，被其他人的故事包围着，即将开始我们自己的故事。
