短篇小说《一个干净明亮的地方》是海明威的早期作品，是一部典型的虚无主义小说，具有典型的海明威风格：文章以虚无思想为主题并大量使用简洁句。
一个干净明亮的地方
A Clean, Well-Lighted Place
【导读】
短篇小说《一个干净明亮的地方》是海明威的早期作品，是一部典型的虚无主义小说，具有典型的海明威风格：文章以虚无思想为主题并大量使用简洁句。这篇小说所描述的是一位老人和两位侍者的故事，其中老人这一人物形象看似微不足道，但从他自杀和饮酒的两个选择行为来分析，他是个展现了重压之下的优雅风度和精神不败的尊严感的海明威式主人公。两位侍者之间的对话引出了“虚无”这一主题，表明“虚无是对存在的体验，人类只有在内心保持一片干净明亮的地方才能抵御虚无。”
【作者简介】
欧内斯特·米勒尔·海明威 （Ernest Miller Hemingway，1899.7.21－1961.7.2），美国小说家。海明威出生于美国伊利诺伊州芝加哥市郊区的奥克帕克，晚年在爱达荷州凯彻姆的家中自杀身亡。海明威代表作有《老人与海》、《太阳照样升起》、《永别了，武器》、《丧钟为谁而鸣》等，凭借《老人与海》获得1953年普利策奖及1954年诺贝尔文学奖。海明威被誉为美利坚民族的精神丰碑，并且是“新闻体”小说的创始人，他的笔锋一向以“文坛硬汉”著称。海明威的写作风格以简洁著称，对美国文学及20世纪文学的发展有极深远的影响。
【选段】
此处选取的是这一短篇的开头部分，小说中的三个人物悉数登场，两位侍者的对话会让读者对三个人物各自的性格有一个直观的了解。
It was very late and everyone had left the cafe except an old man who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against the electric light. In the day time the street was dusty, but at night the dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he felt the difference. The two waiters inside the cafe knew that the old man was a little drunk, and while he was a good client they knew that if he became too drunk he would leave without paying, so they kept watch on him.
“Last week he tried to commit suicide,” one waiter said.
“Why?”
“He was in despair.”
“What about?”
“Nothing.”
“How do you know it was nothing?”
“He has plenty of money.”
They sat together at a table that was close against the wall near the door of the cafe and looked at the terrace where the tables were all empty except where the old man sat in the shadow of the leaves of the tree that moved slightly in the wind. A girl and a soldier went by in the street. The street light shone on the brass number on his collar. The girl wore no head covering and hurried beside him.
“The guard will pick him up,” one waiter said.
“What does it matter if he gets what he’s after?”
“He had better get off the street now. The guard will get him. They went by five minutes ago.”
The old man sitting in the shadow rapped on his saucer with his glass. The younger waiter went over to him.
“What do you want?”
The old man looked at him. “Another brandy,” he said.
“You’ll be drunk,” the waiter said. The old man looked at him. The waiter went away.
“He’ll stay all night,” he said to his colleague. “I’m sleepy now. I never get into bed before three o’clock. He should have killed himself last week.”
The waiter took the brandy bottle and another saucer from the counter inside the cafe and marched out to the old man’s table. He put down the saucer and poured the glass full of brandy.
“You should have killed yourself last week,” he said to the deaf man. The old man motioned with his finger. “A little more,” he said. The waiter poured on into the glass so that the brandy slopped over and ran down the stem into the top saucer of the pile. “Thank you,” the old man said. The waiter took the bottle back inside the cafe. He sat down at the table with his colleague again.
“He’s drunk now,” he said.
“He’s drunk every night.”
“What did he want to kill himself for?”
“How should I know.”
“How did he do it?”
“He hung himself with a rope.”
“Who cut him down?”
“His niece.”
“Why did they do it?”
“Fear for his soul.”
“How much money has he got?” “He’s got plenty.”
“He must be eighty years old.”
“Anyway I should say he was eighty.”
“I wish he would go home. I never get to bed before three o’clock. What kind of hour is that to go to bed?”
“He stays up because he likes it.”
“He’s lonely. I’m not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me.”
“He had a wife once too.”
“A wife would be no good to him now.”
“You can’t tell. He might be better with a wife.”
“His niece looks after him. You said she cut him down.”
“I know.”
“I wouldn’t want to be that old. An old man is a nasty thing.”
“Not always. This old man is clean. He drinks without spilling. Even now, drunk. Look at him.”
“I don’t want to look at him. I wish he would go home. He has no regard for those who must work.”
The old man looked from his glass across the square, then over at the waiters.
“Another brandy,” he said, pointing to his glass. The waiter who was in a hurry came over.
“Finished,” he said, speaking with that omission of syntax stupid people employ when talking to drunken people or foreigners. “No more tonight. Close now.”
“Another,” said the old man.
“No. Finished.” The waiter wiped the edge of the table with a towel and shook his head.
The old man stood up, slowly counted the saucers, took a leather coin purse from his pocket and paid for the drinks, leaving half a peseta tip. The waiter watched him go down the street, a very old man walking unsteadily but with dignity.
