Wolf,Hall——狼性与人性
希拉里·曼特尔（Hilary Mantel）于1952年出生在英国的德比郡，大学时主修法律，毕业后曾经做过社工等工作。从20世纪70年代末期到80年代中期，她跟随从事地质研究的丈夫先后在非洲的博茨瓦纳、沙特阿拉伯的吉达定居，之后返回英国。曼特尔自1985年发表处女作《每天都是母亲节》（Every Day Is Mother’s Day）开始，迄今已发表十多部长篇小说。她于1992年出版的反映法国大革命的历史小说《一个更安全的地方》（A Place of Greater Safety）获得了《星期日快报》的年度图书奖。她于2009年和2012年分别出版了以历史人物托马斯·克伦威尔（Thomas Cromwell）为主角的历史小说《狼厅》（Wolf Hall）与《提堂》（Bring Up the Bodies），两部小说均获得布克奖。本文我们为读者介绍的是《狼厅》。这部小说透过克伦威尔的眼睛，引人入胜地讲述了亨利八世统治下的都铎王朝的故事。
Excerpts1）
“So now get up.”
Felled， dazed， silent， he2） has fallen， knocked full length on the cobbles of the yard. His head turns sideways， his eyes are turned towards the gate， as if someone might arrive to help him out. One blow， properly placed， could kill him now.
Blood from the gash3） on his head—which was his father’s first effort—is trickling4） across his face. Add to this， his left eye is blinded； but if he squints5） sideways with his right eye he can see that the stitching6） of his father’s boot is uavelling7）. The twine8） has sprung clear of the leather， and a hard knot in it has caught his eyebrow and opened another cut.
“So now get up！” Walter9） is roaring down at him， working out where to kick him next. He lifts his head an inch or two and moves forward， on his belly， trying to do it without exposing his hands， on which Walter enjoys stamping. “What are you， an eel10）？” his parent asks. He trots backwards， gathers pace， and aims another kick.
It knocks the last breath out of him； he thinks it may be his last. His forehead returns to the ground； he lies waiting for Walter to jump on him. The dog， Bella， is barking， shut away in an outhouse. I’ll miss my dog， he thinks. The yard smells of beer and blood. Someone is shouting， down on the river bank. Nothing hurts， or perhaps it’s that everything hurts， because there is no separate pain that he can pick out. But the cold strikes him， just in one place： just through his cheekbone as it rests on the cobbles.
“Look now， look now，” Walter bellows11）. He hops on one foot， as if he’s dancing. “Look what I’ve done. Burst my boot， kicking your head.”
Inch by inch. Inch by inch forward. Never mind if he calls you an eel or a worm or a snake. Head down， don’t provoke him. His nose is clotted12） with blood and he has to open his mouth to breathe. His father’s momentary distraction at the loss of his good boot allows him the leisure to vomit. “That’s right，” Walter yells. “Spew everywhere.” Spew everywhere， on my good cobbles. “Come on， boy， get up. Let’s see you get up. By the blood of creeping Christ， stand on your feet.”