四篇论文读后感
《关于中国现代文学的开端——兼及“近代文学”问题》本文主要论述了中国现代文学的上限问题，认为现代文学始于20世纪初。第一部分讲了划分现代文学起始时间的四个依据。第二部分考察了新文学（尤其是前20年的新文学）的本质特征，作者概括为三点。第三部分讲了20世纪初到文学革命前的文学与新文学之间有三点相通之处，它们与第三部分作者概括的新文学三点本质特征是一致的。第四部分讲了把20世纪初至文学革命前的文学列入现代文学而不列入“近代文学”的两点原因。
读过章先生的几篇文章了，他的文章给人的总体感觉就是条理清晰。一般说来，章先生的论文都很长，材料也较多，但是无论哪篇文章读起来都不给人以繁杂感。所有的材料都恰到好处地安排在适当的位置，这一点是我们写作论文的初学者需要认真学习的。有时我写论文会把材料进行堆叠，造成材料与文章的游离，如何能充分证明自己的论点，对材料剪裁得当，我想，从章先生的文章中可以获得一些启示。再有，章先生论文的明晰特点还在于他在行文中运用了很多标志性的诸如“其一”、“其二”、“第一”、“第二”、“首先”、“其次”这样的词，让人一目了然，一下子就知道作者的论点，知道他主要论说的对象是什么。这和当下一些论文中洋洋洒洒几千字却没个中心，没个提示，让人一头雾水的文章形成鲜明对比。我想，写文章就是要让别人明白的，而不是相反。用这些看似模式化的提示性词语看似迂腐，实则最为明智。既让自己明白，又让别人明白，何乐而不为？
章先生的观点其实我们已经了解很多了，他关于近代文学、现代文学这些话题的意见也多次见到。我这里就不再重复了，仅就我感兴趣，章先生也总是提到的一个观点谈谈吧。关于人性解放的观点，似乎确是现代文学的一个显著特征。它本是针对清末对人性极端压制而提出的一个文学精神，对于纠正以往扭曲人性的社会精神有积极意义。尤其发展到今天，那些个性化写作，可以说是当年论调矫枉过正、人性解放到另一个极端的表现。这也正从反面证明了“人性解放”是现代文学特征无疑，且证明了现当代文学的连贯性、一致性——章先生在这一点上事实清晰、材料充分、论证有力。但是我想说的是“人性”这个话题本身追求的属于“真”的范畴，而文学讲的内容属于“美”的范畴。“真”和“美”有交叉，但不完全重合，因此，是否该以“人性”范畴去判断“文学”似乎有待商榷。当然这个问题不在本文论点讨论之列，我只是由此联想而已。
《尚未完成的“现代”——也谈中国现当代文学的分期》这篇文章主要讲了现代文学分期的上限问题，以及现当代文学关系问题。第一部分讲了讨论“现当代”分期和相关问题中存在的疑问，及讨论的必要性。第二部分讲了关于现代文学的上限问题，否定了现今以“五四”新文化运动为开端的观点。第三部分讲了关于现代文学的下限问题。第四部分讲了“要将晚清至今的文学全部囊入‘现代’，在取消‘当代文学’概念曾经拥有的客观、普适的文学史意义之外，还需要解决三个问题”。第五部分讲了将八、九十年代中国文学纳入现代文学范畴的理由。第六部分讲了我们对待现当代文学分期的正确态度。
这是我在这几篇论文中最喜欢的一篇文章，因为它的风格，也因为它是在用作者自己的头脑思考，还因为它的观点与我平日所持论调有很多契合，正应了“当其欣于所遇，暂得于己”，便“快然自足”，不知“错”之将至了。以下是让我感受较深的几点：
1、??但文学史正是由这样不断涌出又不断取消其名号的无数转瞬即逝的“当代文学”汇合而成，??
以前就对当代文学的提法产生过疑问，当时我想，“当代文学”，顾名思义，就是指当 1
前、当下、近一段时期的文学，那么当“当代”成为“过去”，甚至成为“古代”时，这个时期的名字该叫做什么呢？可能这不是我们这一代人可以决定的，但是总要对此有个说法才是。现在看到终于有人提起这个事了，觉得很受鼓舞，也觉得当年自己的怀疑很有道理，倒并没有误入魔道。还有，我向来对文学与政治挂钩这件事不以为意，再加上家人进行的“权威教育”的失败，从小也没养成坚定的信仰习惯，所以总认为新文学运动由一两个偶然事件来推动这事事出蹊跷。看来还真不能盲从于固定的论断，总该用自己的脑子思考思考才是。
2、他们的机智诡秘花样百出的叙述追求，牺牲的是汉语也是一切语言应该始终视为生命的及物性，在他们手里汉语越来越成为无所凭依的言辞的漫流，他们的搁浅是必然的，??
最不喜当代文学的最重要的理由就是其语言实在让人受不了，不是直白得让人困倦，就是晦涩得让人头疼。一篇文章中所有的东西都有了，独独缺了“美”，这不是很奇怪么？作者在这里可谓一语中的。文学给人的享受除了语言享受之外，再不剩什么，如果把语言损毁、抛弃之后，也就无所谓文学了。这一点又和前面提到的“个性解放”相关联。每个人要张扬个性，可以理解，但是不管怎么张扬，总归还是人类，总还要做出人类的姿态，超出这个界限怕就令人费解了。
3、文学史始终是心灵史，??
思考的心灵，艺术化思考的心灵真是世上最美的事物。政治、压迫、恐吓都不能妨碍心灵的自由。文字是最能表达人类思考的东西，文学的历史也是思考的历史。思考时，人人自由而平等。
《在19世纪20世纪之交，建立中国现代文学的界碑》这篇文章主要讲了中国现代文学的限定问题。第一部分讨论了现代文学分期的提出，判定依据，并以为“小说界革命”推动了文学现代化，现代文学界碑应在世纪之交。第二部分以文学革新中，小说、散文、戏曲各个领域的发展为例论证了文学现代化起始于世纪之交。第三部分从通俗文学角度，分析了文学如何同市场结合，认为这也是标志现代文学形成的一个界碑。
文章前两部分的内容使用的是大家常用的材料，并不稀奇，尤为特别的是文章的第三部分。通俗文学的兴起并受到关注，作为现代文学的一个重要特征似乎不如“革命”之类的词语更响亮、显眼，但它却是现代文学一个不可忽视的力量。以往的文学史对此不够重视，大家的目光似乎都集中到了对政治联系密切的文学改革上，只把此类通俗文学看作现代文学的边缘化产物加以研究。这是一种传统偏见，也是我们当下的研究者应予以纠正的。
《新、旧文学的内在联系及中国文学研究的全球性视野》这是一篇从宏观视角探讨中国古今文学内在关联的文章。层次分明，一目了然。作者的观点很有新意，对于两种文化的内在联系很有洞见。尤其是提出中国文学研究的全球性视野，这是以往学者所不曾有过的，对于今天的研究很有启发性。不过，作者对传统文学与现当代文学内在联系的归纳略嫌单薄，而且第一、二、三点值得进一步探讨。
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第二篇：类似读后感的文章是小学生
这次英语专修的考察是看《Words from a father》，然后写读后感，其实翻译出来就是“爱在无声时”，记得在大三的时候，在某个专栏里，我已经看过中文版的了，在第一次看的时候，内心就有了一定的触动！然而，当再次看到英文版的时候，内心又一次澎湃了。。。
其实写读后感可以说是我们这些大学生寒暑假的专利了，因为每次放假，学校一定会布置类似读后感的作业！有时想不出题材的时候就凑上几篇读后感，大多是革命色彩的文章，例如方志敏怎样坚持敌后抗战。
然而这次，又看到这篇文章《Words from a father》，很感动，或许感动于这种生活态度，对生命，对自己的宽容——我有这种感觉也许是因为以前我的生活受到好多压迫。
文章主要是说一位二十三岁的儿子刚从大学毕业，与我们不同的是他要从美国家乡前往法国，学法语，还有感受另外一个国家的生活。
文章的作者，也就是爸爸在儿子远行前对儿子（Daniel）说的话是：
One day I told Daniel that the great failing in my life had been that I didn‘t take a year or two off to travel when I finished college. This is the best way, to my way of thinking, to broaden oneself and develop a larger perspective on life. Once I had married and begun working, I found that the dream of living in another culture had vanished.
翻译：有一天我告诉丹尼尔，至今我最大的遗憾就是我没有在大学毕业后的一两年里尽情地旅行。在我看来，这是开阔眼界、积累和观察生活的最好方式，但是当我一旦结婚和工作以后我发现生活在其他世界的梦想就破灭了。 丹尼尔在临行前有很多担忧，他的朋友们认为他疯了。在朋友看来他的行为是很不寻常，因为他居然在毕业后在大学的饭馆里当服务生，快递员，刷墙漆的工人，然后用自己赚到的这些钱准备去法国，我想如果在中国的话绝大部分家长无法接受辛辛苦苦培养出来的大学生儿子居然这样去“糟蹋”自己的职业开端。 然而这位爸爸却那么宽容，放手让儿子按照自己的方式去闯荡，对儿子有足够的信任，并且在他没有足够把握，在彷徨的时候居然还以常人不同的思维方式去支持他。
就像我的一个朋友在自己的第一份工作中他放弃了，并不是遇到什么困难，而是他想再次进入校园读书，他毅然决定放弃这份有成就的工作。开始我很难以理解，因为他的工作是可以的，待遇也不错，至少，他在工作上是付出很多的，而现在我却支持他的举动：做一些自己想做的事吧，哪怕很苦，哪怕赚的钱不到原来的三分之一，哪怕还要赔钱，那么只为最原先的梦。因为我们无法用钱去衡量一种经历的价值！
就在这次国庆回家，当我在思索自己的能力，想着毕业后自己的出路的时候，这时最受鼓励的是我的爸爸告诉我：“人生本来就是要走走停停，从小学到大学我们一路都没有停过，现在可以停一停啊。”我就是从那个时候开始备受启发的，多少有点像爸爸说的那样，其实完全可以不像传统的方式那样生活，为什么要像老一辈人那样毕业后就进一个“稳”到一眼望到五十岁退休的工作？为什么总想一次到位，安排好以后的一切？为什么毕业后理所当然地要把找对象，结婚提上日程？为什么??我知道身边有一大部分人因为这些“为什么”而困扰，并不知道答案只知道不由自主地会这样去遵循。
我们是不是太服从了？这半年，我渐渐学着给自己自由：尽管脸上有难看的痘痘，但还是要去森林公园烧烤；虽然花了好多血汗钱，还是要拍写真；周末去海底世界看看，去动物园走走，和朋友买衣服，品尝一些很贵但很特别的食物，明白了幸福是什么——自由，虽然这不是幸福的全部，但是没有自由绝不幸福。
原文：
Words From a Father
In the doorway of my home, I looked closely at the face of my 23-year-old son, Daniel, his backpack by his side. We were saying good-bye. In a few hours he would be flying to France. He would be staying there for at least a year to learn another language and experience life in a different country.
It was a transitional time in Daniel‘s life, a passage, a step from college into the adult world. I wanted to leave him some words that would have some meaning, some significance beyond the moment.
But nothing came from my lips. No sound broke the stillness of my beachside home. Outside, I could hear the shrill cries of sea gulls as they circled the ever changing surf on Long Island. Inside, I stood frozen and quiet, looking into the searching eyes of my son.
What made it more difficult was that I knew this was not the first time I had let such a moment pass. When Daniel was five, I took him to the
school-bus stop on his first day of kindergarten. I felt the tension in his hand holding mine as the bus turned the corner. I saw colour flush his cheeks as the bus pulled up. He looked at me-as he did now.
What is it going to be like, Dad? Can I do it? Will I be okay? And then he walked up the steps of the bus and disappeared inside. And the bus drove away. And I had said nothing.
A decade or so later, a similar scene played itself out. With his mother, I drove him to William and Mary College in Virginia. His first night, he went out with his new schoolmates, and when he met us the next morning, he was sick. He was coming down with mononucleosis, but we could not know that then. We thought he had a hangover.
In his room, Dan lay stretched out on his bed as I started to leave for the trip home. I tried to think of something to say to give him courage and confidence as he started this new phase of life.
Again, words failed me. I mumbled something like, "Hope you feel better Dan." And I left.
Now, as I stood before him, I thought of those lost opportunities. How many times have we all let such moments pass? A boy graduates from school, a daughter gets married. We go through the motions of the ceremony, but we don‘t seek out our children and find a quiet moment to tell them what they have meant to us. Or what they might expect to face in the years ahead.
How fast the years had passed. Daniel was born in New Orleans, LA., in 1962, slow to walk and talk, and small of stature. He was the tiniest in his class, but he developed a warm, outgoing nature and was popular with his peers. He was coordinated and 6)agile, and he became adept in sports.
Baseball gave him his earliest challenge. He was an outstanding pitcher in Little League, and eventually, as a senior in high school, made the varsity, winning half the team‘s games with a record of five wins and two losses. At graduation, the coach named Daniel the team‘s most valuable player.
His finest hour, though, came at a school science fair. He entered an exhibit showing how the circulatory system works. It was primitive and crude, especially compared to the fancy, computerized, blinking-light models entered by other students. My wife, Sara, felt embarrassed for him.
It turned out that the other kids had not done their own work-their parents had made their exhibits. As the judges went on their rounds, they found that these other kids couldn‘t answer their questions. Daniel answered every one. When the judges awarded the Albert Einstein Plaque for the best exhibit, they gave it to him.
By the time Daniel left for college he stood six feet tall and weighed 170 pounds. He was muscular and in superb condition, but he never pitched another inning, having given up baseball for English literature. I was sorry that he would not develop his athletic talent, but proud that he had made such a mature decision.
One day I told Daniel that the great failing in my life had been that I didn‘t take a year or two off to travel when I finished college. This is the best way, to my way of thinking, to broaden oneself and develop a larger perspective on life. Once I had married and begun working, I found that the dream of living in another culture had vanished.
Daniel thought about this. His friends said that he would be insane to put his career on hold. But he decided it wasn‘t so crazy. After
graduation, he worked as a waiter at college, a bike messenger and a house painter. With the money he earned, he had enough to go to Paris.
The night before he was to leave, I tossed in bed. I was trying to figure out something to say. Nothing came to mind. Maybe, I thought, it wasn‘t necessary to say anything.
What does it matter in the course of a life-time if a father never tells a son what he really thinks of him? But as I stood before Daniel, I knew that it does matter. My father and I loved each other. Yet, I always regretted never hearing him put his feelings into words and never having the memory of that moment. Now, I could feel my palms sweat and my throat tighten. Why is it so hard to tell a son something from the heart? My mouth turned dry, and I knew I would be able to get out only a few words clearly.
“Daniel," I said, "if I could have picked, I would have picked you."
That‘s all I could say. I wasn‘t sure he understood what I meant. Then he came toward me and threw his arms around me. For a moment, the world and all its people vanished, and there was just Daniel and me in our home by the sea.
He was saying something, but my eyes misted over, and I couldn‘t
understand what he was saying. All I was aware of was the stubble on his chin as his face pressed against mine. And then, the moment ended. I went to work, and Daniel left a few hours later with his girlfriend.
That was seven weeks ago, and I think about him when I walk along the beach on weekends. Thousands of miles away, somewhere out past the ocean waves breaking on the deserted shore, he might be scurrying across Boulevard Saint Germain, strolling through a musty hallway of the Louvre, bending an elbow in a Left Bank café.
What I had said to Daniel was clumsy and trite. It was nothing. And yet, it was everything.