Encik Palomar Di Zoo

Lukisan Dorthy Whisenhunt

Saya tertanya hari ini adakah sebuah novel mesti mempunyai cerita? Kalau tidak ada - saya membayangkan jawapan serta-merta - kenapa patut sebuah novel ditulis? Menghubungkan cerita dengan fiksyen ternyata lebih sinonim berbanding menghubungkan fiksyen dengan hiburan. Kata hiburan - aneh sekali - itu sering dijauhi seolah-olah apabila ia disebut ada orang telah melemparkan telur ke muka kita (oh, dan siapakah "kita" ini?). Namun kalau bukan kerana hiburan, kenapa agaknya kita membaca? Hiburan saya mungkin berbeza dengan hiburan orang yang membaca ruangan komik di akhbar; atau jenaka "Twitten;" atau ucapan doa di ruangan obituari. Yalah, ada orang selesa sekadar bermain catur di meja kopi sebagai hiburan, sementara saya, akan lebih teruja kalau emosi saya bergoncang dan terpelanting di dalam gerabak sebuah roller coaster.

Jadi, patutkah sebuah novel yang tidak mempunyai cerita - atau novel yang tidak ingin menjadi novel - ditolak ke tepi kerana ia tidak menghiburkan kita? Patutkah ada perbezaan kasta antara catur dan roller coaster? Atau antara Italo Calvino dan Georges Simenon?     

Saya berikan contoh ini salah satu anekdot - ah, bukankah anekdot sebuah cerita? terserah, terserah - daripada kehidupan Encik Palomar, watak ciptaan Italo Calvino. Judulnya ialah The Giraffe Race:

"Visiting the Vincennes zoo, Mr Palomar stops at the giraffes' yard. Every now and then the adult giraffes' yard. Every now and then the adult giraffes start running, followed by the baby giraffes; they charge almost to the fence, wheel around, repeat the dash two or three times, then stop. Mr never tires of watching the giraffes' race, fascinated by their unharmonious movements. He cannot decide whether they are galloping or trotting, because the stride of their hind legs has nothing in common with that of their forelegs. The forelegs arch loosely to the breast, then unfold to the ground, as if  unsure which of numerous articulations they should employ at that given moment. The hind legs, much shorter and stiff, follow in leaps and bounds, somewhat along, but also as if playing, aware of being comical. Meanwhile the outstretched neck sways up and down, like the arm of a crane, with no possible relationship between the movement of the legs and the movement of the neck. The withers also give a jolt, but this is simply the movement of the neck that jerks the rest of the spinal column. 

The giraffe seems a mechanism constructed by putting together pieces from heterogeneous machines, though it functions perfectly all the same. Mr Palomar, as he continues observing the racing giraffes, becomes aware of a complicated harmony that commands that unharmonious trampling, an inner proportion that links the most glaring anatomical disproportions, a natural grace that emerges from those ungraceful movements. The unifying element comes from the spots on the hide, arranged in irregular but homogeneous patterns: they agree, like a precise graphic equivalent, with the animal's segmented movements. The hide should not be considered spotted, but rather a black coat whose uniformity is broken by pale veins that open in a lozenge design: an unevenness of pigmentation that preannounces the unevenness of the movements.

At this point Mr Palomar's little girl, who has longs since tired of watching the giraffes, pulls him towards the penguins' cave. Mr. Palomar, in whom penguins inspire anguish, follows her reluctantly and asks himself why is he so interested om giraffes. Perhaps because the world around him moves in unharmonious way, and he hopes always to find some pattern in it, a constant. Perhaps because he himself feels that his own advance is impelled by uncoordinated movements of the mind, which seem to have nothing to do with one another and are increasingly difficult to fit into any pattern of inner harmony."

Nama Calvino seperti jarang disebut sekarang oleh penulis-penulis kontemporari melainkan untuk mengingatkan kita dia ialah pencipta kepada Invisible Cities dan If on a winter's night a traveler (antara tajuk novel paling unik). Kedua-duanya adalah novel - sekali lagi, label ini kelihatan rapuh untuk dipakai - yang menakjubkan dan sudah cukup mengukuhkan reputasi Calvino sebagai penulis yang genius. Tetapi di manakah pengikut Calvino? Ada tentu ada. Tetapi, kita tahu, ia tidak sebesar Borges. Era sekarang lebih sesuai dipanggil era Borges berbanding era Calvino. Saya ingat Sufian Abas pernah kata kepada saya bahawa Borges ialah penulis yang lebih lucu berbanding Calvino. Mungkin betul juga; walaupun saya jarang ketawa membaca Borges berbanding Kafka dan Roth. Nak minta Calvino memberikan komedi kepada saya mungkin terlalu kejam kerana pena Calvino tidak melompat dan menari-nari di atas tali bagai seorang badut. Saya datang kepada Calvino kerana  saya ingin melihat dan berfikir dengan cara berbeza. Kerana saya inginkan sebuah novel yang tidak berfikir dan bermain seperti sebuah novel. Kerana saya inginkan hiburan: hiburan yang selalunya bukan mudah.