墨友书屋 今日: 0|主题: 2112|排名: 34 

最后发表： 尹恩惠
回复内容：
http://www.tudou.com/playlist/id/2111978/

蒙老师讲课很干脆，速度快，喜欢。

最后发表： skytill
回复内容：
《恶魔狂想曲之明日骄阳》  

    话说本人看过原创小说无数，若说有哪本书拥有最经典的语录，非《恶魔狂想曲之明日骄阳》不可。
    虽然因为前面剧情铺的太过，作者无以为继，越写越慢，下一集遥遥无期。不过在我看来写没写完都不重要了，我已经不关心结局了。
    就是很多经典语录让我惊艳，不想忘记，仅以此帖纪念。
    哲人曾经说过，无迹可寻的命运轨迹，只有死亡才是最后的终点。
    想到这句话，阿伦在心底冷然一笑，命运反覆无常，屡占上风，但他深信总有一天，他将推开命运之神的手，画出属于自己的命运轨迹。
    世界其实是由无数偶然构成，人们常常说，‘当时如果不是……，就不会……’，然而，就像我们此刻俯视着整个天空之城，如果长久观察，我们将会发现，所谓的凑巧是愚人安慰自己的谎言，无数偶然的沙土堆积在一起，必然的大厦就建立了 -------东帝天
    世人都喜欢用谎言推动生活------娜娜小姐（迪·阿伦）
    美丽的谎言之所以美丽，那是因为它有无比精美的外壳，令人一看就为之心动。搭档，不必忧虑明天，到了最生死存亡之际，我将天降奇兵于尔等面前，到了那个时候，我的辉煌将会来到你需要仰视的位置，哈！允许你提前崇拜我----怒浪
    命运女神或许只是让我明白， 正是因为这个世界不停地玩我， 我才会觉得这个世界非常的好玩。”  --------迪·阿伦
    所谓命运，不是无法抗拒，而是可以抗拒，但却必须接受，这样的未来，大概，才是命运真真实实的本来面目吧  
人不能背弃自己所拥有过的感情，不然就失去了自我，成为命运的奴仆，人更不能背弃过去，不然就无法面对未来  
哲人曾说，日子就是在懵懂、朦胧、重复中度过的...
   老子就爱在阳光下避暑! -----祖宾大人（迪·阿伦）
   下面是必须看过书才能体会的经典语录：身旁的怒浪忽然停止了原本的话题，正容的插了一句，说：“狂风，总有一天，我要在一个万众嘱目的环境下，一圈一圈的脱下我头上的绷带，露出那对生来就与我共存在一起的英俊耳朵，让所有的世人看清我真面目后，仍对我报以最热烈的掌声和欢呼声！”
　　阿伦的心剧烈的颤动了一下，假如真有这么一天，该是多么的耀眼夺目啊……
　　怒浪注视着阿伦，沉声说：“狂风，相信我，你也可以的！你可以选择属于自己的方式，譬如说，你可以光着膀子，大步大步的走在繁华拥挤的长街上，然后，你拿着牛角刀，一刀一刀的割在自己身上，那见鬼的银灰色血液汹涌而出的时侯，世人就向你疯狂鼓掌，以表达他们对你狂热的爱戴，还对你投来鲜花和崇慕的眼光，老人们还赶紧把你流出来的血用瓶子收藏起来，以后拿回家祭拜……”前任监狱长那张“我代表法律”的字条已被他撕毁，他在内部会议里公开表示，这句话太霸道了，做人应该宽容一点，所以，现在办公室门口换成了“本人可随意秒杀任何绝世强者，欢迎同僚囚徒上门挑战”。缪诺琳淡淡一笑，说：“好？大概不能拿来形容他吧！他应该和我一样，同是一个满身罪孽的罪人，到将来某一天，神官大人你已经回归到神的怀抱中时，我和他铁定是要进入到地狱中的最深层的，哈哈……”
他淡淡一笑，平静的回答：“洛塞夫大主教，假如这就是我的命运，我会对自己说，在这个世界上的某个地方有个女人，因为没有做我的妻子而获得了幸福。”
    以後有这样的机会，再和大伙好好切磋。” -------蓝雪云（迪·阿伦）
    在我回顾人类历史长河时... -------东帝天
    请允许我亲切地问候阁下的母亲！-------娜娜小姐（迪·阿伦）
    战友，我想我又坠入爱河了 -------波特
恶魔狂想曲之明日骄阳下载地址：恶魔狂想曲之明日骄阳 电子书下载

最后发表： 傻狼
回复内容：

最后发表： hohoho
回复内容：
sorry我没注意到～～～

最后发表： 还是巴豆
回复内容：
纯粹是搞笑啊。

最后发表： 小葵
回复内容：


正准备从头再读一遍呢. 小时候读的一点印象都没有了, 就记得说的挺好玩的. 喜欢王小波

最后发表： springoz
回复内容：
看了,继续.......

最后发表： singingbird
回复内容：
喜欢就好！为这些书找到家的感觉更好！谢谢你！

最后发表： 衣冠禽兽
回复内容：
驴子们是悲哀的

当他们从城市的喧嚣中走到那些被彼此们认可的圣景

会突然发现

自己此时即不属于原来的那座城市

更无法去融入这片理想的圣地

悬架于空

也便只好成了驴
驴子们是悲哀的

当他们从城市的喧嚣中走到那些被彼此们认可的圣景

会突然发现

自己此时即不属于原来的那座城市

更无法去融入这片理想的圣地

悬架于空

也便只好成了驴

最后发表： sparklingcuo
回复内容：
池莉大姐也是另一种文人，只看婚姻结构，不谈爱情。
爱情在结了婚后还是有的，只是改名成了亲情，亲情好比是糊墙的水泥，把这个结构牢牢地给糊住。
没有这个亲情，这结构怎么稳得住，当然震震就垮了。
没有这个改了名的爱情在里面，谁愿意为谁磨掉自己的棱角，这榫卯怎样才能给磨得契合，这结构怎样才能牢牢地稳固住呢？
撇开爱情不谈，这婚姻还有啥过头？

最后发表： singingbird
回复内容：
年底才出中文版。先看英文的吧。

最后发表： cello
回复内容：

毛姆的？

最后发表： paopaotoo
回复内容：


他出过书,说得更加系统和详细,但是不知道在OZ有没有买的.

还有你觉的混沌,估计是怪我上传得比较乱吧

最后发表： paopaotoo
回复内容：
(二)

　　无论正式规定是怎么样的，掌握了合法伤害权的人就是牛气得要命。在他们的眼睛里，老百姓形同鱼肉。我们的祖先也就以"鱼肉百姓"一词来形容这些人和老百姓的关系。
　　据《竹叶亭杂记》记载，清代的四川有一种流行甚广的陋规，名叫"贼开花"。每当民间发生盗窃案件，州县地方官接到报案后，官吏衙役不作任何调查，先把被盗人家周围的富户指为窝赃户。既然认定嫌疑犯是官吏们的合法权力，关押嫌疑犯也是他们的合法权力，他们这么做当然没什么风险。那些被指为窝赃户的人家也有一个共同的特点，就是家里无人做官，没有后台。于是官府放心大胆地把他们拘押起来敲诈勒索，每报一案，往往牵连数家，"贼开花"由此得名。那些被指为窝赃的富户，特别害怕坐牢，只能自认倒霉，拿出大把的钱来贿赂官吏，打点差役。官吏捞足了钱，才把这些富户放出来，并宣布他们没有窝赃。在术语里这叫"洗贼名"。
　　最初看到这些历史记载的时候，我曾经设身处地替那些被敲诈者想过，结论是；如果换了我，就要读书科举，混个功名在身，让他们不敢敲诈。不过这是很有个人特色的对策，只能自保却不能普渡众生，并且远水解不了近渴，显然不是正经办法。后来我找到了正经办法。在清朝人段光清写的一本书里，我看到了安徽宿松县民间用来对付这种敲诈的高招，不禁被人民群众的创造力所折服。
　　据《镜湖自撰年谱》道光十七年（1837年）记载，这年九月，小地主段光清（当时已经中了举人，即有了国家干部的身份）的佃户及其家境稍好的几户邻居，忽然被差役传唤，诬陷他们接了贼赃。段光清说，这是失主与捕役串通好了，嘱咐盗贼咬他们一口，借此敲一笔钱。佃户找到段光清的哥哥哭诉，段光清的哥哥就找他商量对策。
　　段光清首先回顾历史，从前人的智慧和经验里寻求启发。他说，父亲曾经说过，嘉庆初年（1797年前后）乡里有一种恶习，乞丐生病倒毙了，地方无赖就要借机生出波澜，说必须要经过地方官验尸才能掩埋。而地方官每次下乡验尸，必定要带一大群人。仵作和刑书自是必需的，还要包括县衙门里院的门印、签押、押班、小使，外院的六房、三班，再加上地方官的仪卫、皂隶、马仆、轿夫，浩浩荡荡多至百余人。于是，只听得地方官验尸的锣声一响，乡下有数百亩家产的人家，就要倾家荡产，连灰也剩不下了。
　　段光清说，父亲当时的办法是：召集同乡的绅衿到县里向领导请示，如果乞丐确实是自己死了，经检验没有伤痕，可以由地保掩埋，无须报官府验尸。领导同意了，还把这条规定刻在石碑上，立在路旁。段光清没有说他父亲拜见县领导的时候带没带银子，从情理推测，应该不至于空手去求人。从下文推测，前辈很可能以某种方式孝敬了父母官。
　　段光清联系现实，说如今嘱托盗贼栽赃，这又是一种恶习。兄长最好召集同乡开一个会，大家凑一笔经费，每年给负责本片的捕役数千，作为他们辛辛苦苦为我们抓盗贼的奖励，同时要求他们别再嘱托盗贼诬栽良民。段光清的哥哥接受建议，召集同乡开了会，果然大家踊跃掏钱，贼开花的问题就这样得到了双方满意的解决。至于和吏胥谈判的具体过程，段光清没有记载，但有三个意思恐怕兜多大圈子也要表达出来："我们承认你们能害我们，我们掏钱，你们别再用这种手段害我们了。"这看上去很像是和黑手党打交道，我也承认，在辨别专制政府与黑手党的实质性区别时，我经常感到自己愚钝无能。
　　总之，合法伤害权是很值钱的。有了这种权力，没有钱可以有钱，没有敛钱的规矩可以创造出规矩。用古汉语一个简洁贴切的词来表达，这叫"势所必至"。势之所至，潜规则生焉。即使这规则不合法，也可以转弯抹角将它装扮起来--广大群众爱护人民警察，凑点钱表达他们的感激之情，这难道有什么不对吗？

最后发表： Microhard
回复内容：
they are all welcome!  i think

最后发表： 七月背影
回复内容：
AS竟然同是AMY TAN的知音啊，真是难得，你看过的是THE KITCHEN GOD'S WIFE的英文原版么？另外喜福会我也很想重温，电影和书。

最后发表： 花花
回复内容：
的确是经典

最后发表： lampoo
回复内容：
有断链接啊

最后发表： vag16
回复内容：
汉语、英语和法语界2003年十大好书 <br><br>
出处： 《书城》杂志 <br><br><br>
　　去年，《书城》请11位作者撰写“我的2002书单”，广受欢迎。今年，我们再次推出“年度图书”，只不过这次换了一种形式。原因有二：一是有的媒体已经推出了他们的“我的2003书单”，二是为了突出杂志立场，本次年度图书的遴选，由编辑部完成。但在确定10本好书之前，我们征询了很多人的意见，他们是：鲍昆、杜丽、韩博、洪子诚、雷颐、刘东、刘立杆、罗岗、毛尖、孟晖、倪文尖、王晓明、叶辉、张桃洲、周立民、朱其、楚尘、舒炜……在此谨致衷心的感谢。 <br>
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　　我们还组织编译了“英美媒体年度好书精选”和“法国《读书》杂志年度最佳图书”，希望能为大家提供一次“跨语际”阅读。同时也期待能为内地的出版业提供一种参照。 <br>
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　　《过于喧嚣的孤独》 <br>
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　　[捷]博•赫拉巴尔 著 杨乐云等译 <br>
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　　中国青年出版社，2003年1月版 <br>
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　　比起米兰•昆德拉，人们对同为捷克著名作家的赫拉巴尔的认识有待发掘。在获得法学博士后，他离开了我们想象中的生活轨道，住进大杂院，当过钢铁厂工人、废品回收站打包工、舞台布景工……直到49岁才正式出版第一部书，但他创造了捷克式的“Pabitel”形象。1997年2月3日，84岁的赫拉巴尔从即将出院的医院五楼窗口坠下。他说：“我已经做了我该做的一切……那么，我还呆在这里干吗呢……”他用生命承受了一切。 <br>
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　　辽阔是他对现实世界的内心感受，虽然在喧嚣的尘世中他扮演的是一个废品收购站的老打包工。35年的漫长岁月里，他在压力机旁消耗人生，把尼采、高更压成碎片，换取当天的面包。但“读着《天国论》，每次只读一句，含咳嗽糖似的含在嘴里，这样我工作的时候心里就注满了一种辽阔感”。他没有哀叹命运的不济、社会的不公。《过于喧嚣的孤独》是赫拉巴尔的代表作之一。如他大多数小说中的主人公一样，在现实生活中汉嘉们的处境往往很凄惨，可是透过“灵感的钻石孔眼”看到的美景却使他们沉迷得如痴似醉，旁若无人。 <br>
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　　《我们仨》 <br>
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　　杨绛 著 北京三联书店，2003年月 <br>
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　　杨绛先生行文的淡泊在《我们仨》中益发突出，92岁高龄的她，用心记述了钱锺书、她和女儿钱瑗这个特殊家庭63年风风雨雨、点点滴滴。说起“我们仨”，杨先生像在拉家常，但又是自足的况味。漫漫人生，种种沉浮荣辱都已淡去。曾经单纯温馨的三口之家，如今只有她一人存留世上了。短短两年间，女儿钱瑗和丈夫钱锺书先后病逝。往事不胜唏嘘，难以想象年近九旬的写作者的内心起伏，只有追随笔墨，沉潜自问了。 <br>
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　　《日本现代文学的起源》 <br>
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　　[日]炳谷行人 北京三联书店 2003年1月 <br>
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　　柄谷行人在某方面令我觉得他是另一位川端康成，日本评论界的川端康成，这个意思是指他深刻地学习、领悟和甄别了西方的认知，而在他的笔下完成的东西，使得西方人感到有自愧不如之处。弗雷德里克•詹姆逊在为这本书所作的英文版序言里显得诚实、但不至于完全放下架子地说道：“在此我们可以用新颖的慢镜头方式，看清我们自己的现代化特点。”精到地运用了“颠倒”这个概念，深切而微妙地揭示出日本现代文学的来龙去脉，每每令人惊讶于他能够将我们偶尔起过的疑虑和闪念抓住、组织起来，以坚实的抽屉放置，层层相加，形成一座微型档案馆，足以令那些汗毛充栋的研究所、纪念馆、学术中心摇摇欲坠，对于我们的学者们、对于我们被误读得近于无以复加的现代文学而言，但愿是一个启示。 <br>
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　　《政治的概念》 <br>
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　　[德]卡尔•施米特著，刘小枫编，刘宗坤等译，上海人民出版社，2003年9月 <br>
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　　施米特在西方思想脉络中的地位如何，固然言人人殊，但关键在于，对施米特的强调，隐含的是对中国问题，特别是宪政问题的一种主张。 <br>
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　　刘小枫先生《施米特论政治的正当性》一文，在中国的革命与宪政建设的语境中详尽地阐述了施米特，这一指向明确的阐释尚未引起足够的讨论。当年施米特与凯尔特之间的辩难，在当下中国知识界的中有耐人寻味的衍变。宪政建设并不止自由主义的方案；在施米特和他的中国阐释者看来，尽管自由主义并非施米特的“敌人”，但它的内在缺陷（比如，看不到民主宪政在政治上的国家敌人，等等）却必须诊治。 <br>
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　　或许未来时局的发展将使这种思考在中国知识界产生更强烈的冲击力。例如，台海问题的凸现，将推动人们在切身痛感之前重新思考主权与人权的自由主义论述，主权问题相对于人权问题的重要性将被强调，政治哲学的思考因此可能变化。在此类背景下，施米特提供的思想资源将更多地被运用，因此值得重视。 <br>
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　　《自然权利与历史》 <br>
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　　[美]列奥•施特劳斯著，彭刚译 <br>
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　　北京三联书店，2003年1月 <br>
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　　一个时代的重要政治思考或多或少地塑造着那个时代的历史与政治经验，同时，这些政治思考也为此时的历史与经验所塑造。对那些推动当地思想变迁的“旅行”中的思想，也可如是观。 <br>
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　　为什么要说施特劳斯？这个问题可以部分地从施特劳斯说了什么中寻找。他认为，“普世一体化国家”是不可能的，任何政治社会都必然是特殊的而且是特殊主义的社会，都是“封闭的社会”。这无疑世对终止“战争”、走向“永久和平”，最后达到“普世国家”的现代政治哲学的反动。 <br>
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　　这种“转向成熟地关心政治和道德事务、关心人事和人”的“成熟的哲学”，在尚未从加入“全球化”进程的兴奋中走出的中国知识人而言，是一个挑战，也容易被否弃。不过，不理施特劳斯易，忽略全球语境下中国问题的重要方面，却既不可能，也有危险。况且，如果说布什政府的政略与施氏学派颇有契合，也不妨转益多师。说施特劳斯的落脚点更在于对自身问题的把握。保守主义在中国有多深厚的土壤？能掀起多大的浪潮？ <br>
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　　《文化与帝国主义》 <br>
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　　[美]爱德华•W•萨伊德著，李琨译，三联书店，2003年10月 <br>
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　　萨伊德的逝世让知识界更深切地感受到他的工作所有的启发力量，这种力量是《文化与帝国主义》在中国同样引人注目的最主要原因。 <br>
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　　萨氏讨论“小说与帝国”的关系，揭示帝国主义世界观的构造形态，用“专家之学”的文学批评来发挥一个思想家的厚度。离开政治的“纯文学”，离开帝国主义与民族主义纠缠的“共同价值”，或许都是自我满足的幻觉。在实存的世界中，帝国主义的文化企图“必然失败”，尽管这种企图一直保持（幻觉），尽管帝国主义已经成为全球共同的历史经验。 <br>
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　　这种思考只是一个开始。萨伊德的反思批判，并不能取代历史，却可能成为西方与非西方文化与历史创造的一个重要资源。每个民族都会有或者将有自己的现代故事，这些故事也并不一定是由西方来塑造的。如何建立自己的未来图景，以及与之勾连的历史图景，是每个民族面临的根本问题。在这个方向上，萨伊德提供了一些基石。 <br>
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　　《毛泽东•斯大林与朝鲜战争》 <br>
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　　沈志华著，广东人民出版社，2003年11月 <br>
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　　2003年是毛泽东诞辰110周年。对于这个改变了中国命运的人，如何衡量？很难说这位共和国缔造者今天得到了恰当的理解，正如很难说人们已把握了现时代的要害问题。面对毛泽东，在某种意义上就是面对当代。 <br>
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　　只以抽象价值的维度来理解毛泽东，已经远远不够。需要从革命与国家建设、从大国战略家的角度来理解毛泽东及其重要决断。毛在冷战时代的国家斗争格局中现实地划分敌友，确定国家战略，果断决定战与和，乃是一个政治家的作为，需要到全球政治斗争的情境中去把握。因此，《毛泽东•斯大林与朝鲜战争》值得推荐。沈志华对中苏制定对朝战略的脉络的梳理值得注意，新中国初入全球外交之时在战略上的得失也颇可探究。 <br>
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　　《大分流：欧洲、中国及现代世界经济的发展》 <br>
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　　[美]彭慕兰 著，史建云 译 <br>
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　　江苏人民出版社2003年11月 <br>
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　　作者通过详尽的“交互比较”指出，19世纪中期以前欧洲在生产力方面不存在内生优势，至少“迟至18世纪中叶，西欧的生产力或经济并没有独一无二的高效率”；而且两者进一步发展所受的制约也是同样的。甚至，如果没有以矿物燃料（煤）和新大陆资源的利用为基础这两个偶然因素的共同作用，欧洲也可能走上一条与中国同样的“内卷化”的道路…… <br>
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　　毫无疑问，对于习惯了“中国停滞说”，习惯追问为什么中国没有在内部产生资本主义等问题的人而言，该书具有重要的“祛魅”作用。 <br>
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　　但问题是，中西何曾同流（不同流又何谈分流）？中国在2000多年前就完成了帝国的统一，而今天的欧洲还在为“欧盟”而不懈努力。差异是自始至终的。谁的历史更具普遍性？历史不可逆转，是因为选择不可逆转。 <br>
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　　《朱熹的历史世界：宋代士大夫政治文化的研究》 <br>
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　　余英时 著，台湾允晨文化出版公司 <br>
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　　朱熹向以思想家著称于世。而后世学者也一贯重视其“思想世界”。但余英时把朱熹放回整个宋代的历史场景中，试图寻出“遗失的环节”。因为“失去了这一环节”，“朱熹暮年为什么会遭党禁之厄便无从索解，而所谓庆元党禁也就变成一幕无意识的历史闹剧了。” <br>
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　　贯穿该书的主要线索有三条：两宋士大夫与皇权的关系，士大夫政治理想的演变，有宋一朝“国是”的更迭。这三条线索构成了两宋士大夫政治文化的总体变迁。他将朱熹及其理学置于整个宋代特别是王安石变法后的士大夫政治文化演进背景中，为道学家朱熹乃至整个的宋代理学家群体找到了一个新的历史坐标——这确实是余先生的绝大洞见。 <br>
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　　余著出版以来，在两岸三地引起广泛讨论。在学术社群越来越缺少共同话题的今天，能成为汉语知识界共同关注的焦点，已经证明了该书的价值。而各家的迥然不同的评论回应，也颇值得珍视玩味。 <br>
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　　《语文教育门外谈》 <br>
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　　钱理群 著 <br>
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　　广西师范大学出版社，2003年7月 <br>
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　　本书是钱理群个人思索语文问题的全记录，是那套著名的《新语文读本》迟到的思想企划书，而且事实上，已经在语文课程与教学的世纪转型中发挥了重要的推动作用。 <br>
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　　考虑到母语学习对每个人成长发展的奠基性作用，也考虑到中国语文教育以及研究的水准依然差强人意，我们选择推荐这本“雪中送炭”的书。如果说书中的语文以“立人”为中心、“打精神的底子”等理念越来越成了共识、成了主流，那么，钱理群有关中国教育“改革要早，步子要慢”、“态度要积极，行动要谨慎”、“不要老是从一个极端跳到另一个极端”、“不能走向儿童中心主义的极端”等先见之明，在今天，就特别有其针对性，值得许多门内门外谈教育谈语文者认真回应。 <br>
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　　英美媒体“年度好书”精选 <br>
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　　邓宇歌 <br>
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　　小说类： <br>
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　　《砖石小径》（Brick Lane） <br>
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　　作者：莫妮卡•阿里（Monica Ali） <br>
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　　莫妮卡•阿里的成功处女作《砖石小径》可谓得尽人心，在英美文坛广受欢迎。小说背景取于多元文化的伦敦，以一位移民英国的孟加拉女性Nazneen为主角，描述了底层的少数移民族群在伦敦的生活故事。Nazneen，这位起初只懂用英文说“sorry”和“Thank you”的新娘，在包办婚姻下来到英国，嫁给了一事无成，毫无希望，却自命不凡的丈夫Chanu。接下来是囚笼似的婚姻生活，幽闭症般的精神状态，一贫如洗的家境，导致女主人公后来爱上了常来取送缝纫活计的青年小伙。 <br>
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　　小说的结尾是丈夫承认了失败，回了老家，而她留在伦敦，跟女儿们学起了英语，生命之舟仿佛驶向了自己的那片蓝天。而《大西洋月刊》在肯定了小说的成功后却认为，这种自我实现式的煽情结尾与全文极不调和，反而破坏了作品的特色。《乡村之声》杂志大为赞赏的是该书轻而易举地跨越了社会政治小说和家庭小说之间的天然鸿沟。 <br>
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　　《人心》（Any Human Heart） <br>
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　　作者：威廉•博伊德（William Boyd） <br>
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　　这是一部以日记形式展开的记述20世纪社会历史生活的小说，小说主人公洛根•蒙斯图尔特是一位英国作家兼作品经销商。他的漫长生命开始于1906年，他是一个贪图生活享乐的人，吃吃喝喝，四处旅行。然而他的生活却和一些历史性的画面联系在了一起：1926年的英国总罢工，1937年的西班牙内战。他成为了20世纪的遍历者，他遇见了几乎所有的名人（毕加索、海明威、温莎公爵、维吉尼亚•伍尔芙……），游历了几乎所有的地方。他一生中许多次面临成功，每次却都被突如其来的灾难打断…… <br>
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　　《华盛顿邮报》认为小说主人公的人生荒缪却令人心动，作者也显然钟意于这传奇般的人生与世纪历史文化缠绕在一起。《大西洋月刊》评价是：这部小说比起一部世纪旅行见闻录可要丰富得多。它反射出个人人生的轮廓：主旋律，反复，真诚与虚伪的友谊；没有能力完成自己人生设想的哀叹；几乎毫无意义的某些人生经历。小说名为《人心》，然而，蒙斯图尔特不代表每一个人。他甚至比我们中大多数人更加慷慨，宽容，更能取乐于自己的人生。作者是如今引人注目的优秀作家，不但充满活力，人文主义风格也日渐成熟。此外，《卫报》、《乡村之声》、《旧金山记事》等都将其作为年度好书推荐。 <br>
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　　《暗夜离奇狗事》（The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night－time） <br>
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　　作者：马克•哈顿（Mark Haddon） <br>
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　　小说的主人公和叙述者，15岁的克里斯托弗是一位有着出色逻辑思维和数学天分的聪慧少年，而他却难以理解周遭世界里复杂的人情世故——简而言之，一位不折不扣孤独症患者。邻家的狗威灵顿在一天深夜里惨死，男孩被人们指责为凶手，从此他开始小心翼翼地收集线索，查找真凶，踏上了前所未有的人生道路。不能承受人类情感的男孩遭遇到了人生最跌宕起伏的经历——它是一部喜剧，却让人心酸；故事充满神秘色彩，结局又让人释然。 <br>
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　　《乡村之声》评论道：犬死因调查过程滤出了孤独症男孩眼中的青春期困惑和家庭情变危机。而滤过而出的是案件本身。作品小心翼翼，淋漓尽致地刻画着孤独症患者受挫的内心世界，这个世界不断被填塞着外界的感官刺激，却无力去消化它们。英国《卫报》则认为：这部12岁孩子也可以欣赏的原创短篇杰作，丝毫没有影响他在成人图书界的成就。小说红透英美两地，不但在畅销书榜大放异彩，年终几乎各大媒体的推荐书榜上更是榜上有名，在此难以一一列举。 <br>
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　　《已知世界》(The Known World） <br>
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　　爱德华•琼斯（Edward P. Jones）著 <br>
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　　《已知世界》以美国十九世纪末一段几乎教人难以置信的史实为基础，讲述了一个黑人奴隶主的一生。美国历史上确有黑人奴隶主的存在，而且在内战爆发之前，黑人奴隶主还为数不少，足见当时奴隶制问题的复杂。主人公亨利•汤生(Henry Townsend)生为黑奴，用钱赎得自由身后，经营有方，终于在弗吉尼亚买下了自己的种植园，蓄养起自家的33名黑奴。汤生喜读弥尔顿的《失乐园》，却像他从前的白人主子一样，经常让他的奴隶吃鞭子。汤生死后，他性格柔弱的寡妻难以为继，种植园终于在内战的前夜陷于大乱。《纽约时报书评》和《芝加哥太阳时报》均大赞其史诗之气魄。《波士顿环球报》评论：作者将每个人的命运交叠成了历史，并以完美的语言再创造了一个无望时代罪恶习俗的顽固与终结。小说同时也被《华盛顿邮报》及《洛杉矶时报》 列为年度好书。 <br>
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　　《大火》（The Great Fire） <br>
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　　雪莉•赫扎德（Shirley Hazzard）著 <br>
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　　该书曾获2003年美国国家图书奖的小说奖。书中的故事发生在1947年的二战的日本，述说在那满目疮痍的世界里一对战火鸳鸯的爱情故事，细腻呈现烽火中的真挚情感。书中男主角之一奥尔德雷德•雷斯战后被派往日本广岛，调查原子弹爆炸的后果。他在那里结识了来自澳大利亚的一对兄妹班迪克特和海伦，并与海伦陷入热恋，但别离却是命中注定…… <br>
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　　这是一部关于友谊、爱情、生死别离、人性省悟和升华的力作。面世不久便赞誉一片。《大西洋月刊》评论：《大火》犹如滑过读者视野的彗星，在消失前迅速地牢牢捉攫住所有的注意力和情感，拖出的彗尾是人们对主人公幸福的期盼，同样在将信将疑中，读者期待彗星的再次回归。 <br>
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　　同时收录其为年度好书的还有：《洛杉矶时报》，《华盛顿邮报》《经济学人》等等。 <br>
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　　非小说类： <br>
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　　《沧桑阅尽话人生》(Living to Tell the Tale） <br>
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　　作者：加西亚•马尔克斯（Gabriel García Márquez） <br>
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　　哥伦比亚大作家、诺贝尔文学奖得主加西亚•马尔克斯计划中三卷本自传的首卷，去年出版后即成为整个西班牙语世界的最畅销书。英文版由伊迪丝•格罗斯曼(Edith Grossman)英译。在各媒体非小说类年度好书榜上，此书的推荐出奇一致。 <br>
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　　《纽约时报书评》称，作者在书中忆及的种种古怪之人与事，诸如家宴上的鬼魂，在全国到处撒种、弄出成群私生子的男人，还有一个掘出先人尸骸，随家人不断迁居的家族，凡此种种，无不可据以写出伟大的小说，也令人觉得，他小说中代表性的“魔幻现实主义”也不那么魔幻了。《圣安东尼奥快报》上一位书评者说“这是个极好的迹象：当你阅读前30页时，甚至还没意识到该找个位子坐下来时，你已会惊讶于这本绝顶好书。”《乡村之声》认为：表面上是一本自传，而实为一个政治成熟的故事，一本编入Gabo-land风土人情的旅行指南，一门精湛写作技巧的授课，同样也是作家谋生艺术的展现。作者让读者只在在帘后隐约窥探其作品的魔力，也为表现其作品魔幻主义中的魔幻实际微不足道。 <br>
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　　《无章之家：布朗克斯之爱、毒品、纠纷与长大成人》(Random Family：Love，Drugs，Trouble，and Coming of Age in the Bronx) <br>
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　　艾德里安•尼科尔•勒布兰克(Adrian Nicole LeBlanc) 著 <br>
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　　《经济学人》，《纽约时报书评》以及同时推荐了此书，女记者勒布兰克毕10年光阴，追踪报道纽约布朗克斯区的两名波多黎哥裔女孩。她们的生活就在公共房屋，急诊室，监狱，法庭的进进出出中度过。她们很早就成了少女妈妈，她们找到了爱情，也都有了儿女，却要独自面对男人下狱的日子，以及病痛，社会问题和为母之道的挑战。 <br>
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　　在叙述中，勒布兰克很少做出这些行为对或错的判断，她们自已判断自己的言行。《乡村之声》评价作者真实且深刻地描绘了处于贫困都市底层，几代人的生存状态。 <br>
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　　《叶芝：人生（第二卷，爱尔兰诗人，1915-1939）》W.B.Yeats: A Life (Volume II, The Arch-Poet). <br>
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　　罗•福斯特(Roy. F. Forst) 著 <br>
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　　此书深受英国文坛推崇，《卫报》的书评作者认为它将是我们这个时代最经典的一部文学传记之一，既是学术作品，又有充满想象力的创造，精妙的组织使其可读性很强。《独立报》评论此书：轻而易举保持了一流传记的极高水准。叶芝“爱尔兰诗人”的身份几乎贯穿了半个世纪，他写下了大量杰出的诗篇，此时的内战与动乱也使其心绪不佳，将自己束缚于性和超自然体验的双股绳索下——其中包括与可爱的，“精神却不大稳定”的Margot Ruddock 夫人存在的非正常关系。此外，本书也是《经济学人》中年度推荐好书中的一本。 <br>
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　　法国《读书》年度最佳图书 <br>
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　　刘 焰 译 <br>
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　　1．《灰灵魂》 <br>
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　　菲力普•克罗代尔 著，司多克出版社(Stock) <br>
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　　战争期间的一场谋杀案，在1917年灰暗潮湿的冬季。布拉什是法国北部小镇上一个小酒馆的老板。小镇离前线只有几公里，随风传来阵阵炮声。人们最终会知道是谁掐死了他的小女儿贝尔•德•茹尔吗？可这又有什么要紧呢？灰蓝色世界，因雨水和无人提起的过去而变得更加沉重，从某种意义上来说，所有的人都是凶手。 <br>
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　　没有人是无辜的，甚至叙述者本人：一个借酒消愁的警察，他的妻子克莱芒斯死于难产。她和丽兹雅，是这低沉的天空下唯一一线光明，而后者，一名年轻的小学教师，最终也将无法承受她的未婚夫在战争中失踪的打击。叙述者首先只是一名普通证人，渐渐被卷入一场悲剧，他的叙述被菲力普•克罗代尔巧妙地打断，在小说最后，与另一场悲剧，他自身的悲剧融合。在这部文笔优美的小说中，所有讲述这个事件的人都以一种近乎胆怯的节制压抑着情绪。因为灰色笼罩着他们。这是被恶折磨的“灵魂”的灰色，比占据灵魂的罪行更非物质性、更深层的恶。所有的灵魂都不同的程度地参与了这种恶。本书有一种灰色的迷人的美，它在描绘1917年军队充满叛乱和临阵脱逃的历史背景的同时，刻画了这一群人被自身混乱的欲望牵引时的内心。 <br>
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　　2．《天使的乡愁》 <br>
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　　艾丽斯•瑟波德 著（英国） <br>
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　　艾迪特•索坎德 译，尼尔出版社（Nil） <br>
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　　叙述者叫苏西•萨尔梦，14岁。一天，在放学回家的路上，她被邻居的男孩叫住了。她毫无戒心地跟着他走了。他强奸了她，杀害了她，把尸体肢解成几块后四处掩埋在田野中。只有当受害者上天后远远地道来时，这些让人无法忍受的事实才变得可以被接受。在天上，她同情家庭和朋友们的悲伤，了解到没有了她，父母的生活是如何地难以为继。艾丽斯•瑟波德的第一部小说取材于自己的经历，她在二十岁时被强奸过。许多年来，她不能忘怀这段经历，却无法将之写出。现在，故事写出来了，写得非常成功，因为她的书已经感动了世界上数十万的读者。 <br>
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　　3．《屠刀》 <br>
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　　让•阿兹菲尔德 著，瑟伊出版社（Seuil） <br>
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　　作者第一本关于卢旺达种族大屠杀的书——《生命的真实》已经让我们震惊。记者让•阿兹菲尔德在书中收录了少数几名因数星期藏身在沼泽地中而幸免于难者提供的证词，他们见证了大部分亲人被屠杀，变得迟钝呆。那些谦卑的叙述记录下恐惧，语言细腻饱满，文字的诗意似乎缓和了痛苦。在《屠刀》一书中，阿兹菲尔德给我们提供了另一部分证词，那些刽子手的证词。依旧是迷人的卢旺达法语，它似乎有使那群乌合的刽子手灵魂出壳的魔力，他们被嫉妒和酒精刺激，在漫漫白日的工作时间里，不顾一切地把屠刀挥向他们的邻居，老师同僚甚至同一个唱诗班的成员！让•阿兹菲尔德所完成的工作是对他的职业的献礼，他揭示什么样的机制，会导致人类否定人类。 <br>
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　　4．《宇宙，宇宙》 <br>
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　　雷吉•热弗亥 著，维尔提卡出版社(Verticales) <br>
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　　一个女性人物，正在一套带阳台的房子里做一块羊后腿。烤羊肉时，无穷的面容和无尽的岁月在烤箱的玻璃门上闪过。这让人晕眩。我们打开这本书就如同打开一个缺口，那是一种“无穷的空间里永恒的沉默”的帕斯卡式的焦虑。她是谁，她会是谁？一位等待丈夫的主妇。一位不等待任何人的单身女性。一个既没有父亲也没有母亲的疯子。虚拟或平行的身份漩涡在存在的涡流里翻涌。在热弗亥那里，仍旧回荡着面对灾难的笑声，这笑声，如一个黑洞卷走我们的生命中的渺小。 <br>
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　　5．《我所爱的一切》 <br>
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　　西里•休斯特维特 著 <br>
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　　（美国）克里斯狄娜•勒•博夫 译 <br>
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　　阿可特•苏德出版社（Actes Sud） <br>
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　　很少有一本书可以聚集以下所有优点：文笔优美，故事浪漫，背景迷人。西里•休斯特维特避免了所有可能的失误，也不投机取巧，成功地写出了一部不同凡响的作品：以一部关于爱情和友情的小说探索疯狂不同的形态，同时，我们得以进入作者熟悉纽约的艺术氛围——她定期为不同的杂志撰写画评。一天，在苏荷区的一个画廊里，艺术评论家雷奥被一幅比尔的自画像所吸引。他买下了画像，见到了艺术家本人，他们长期的共谋关系由此开始。接下来的许多年里，雷奥和比尔，他们各自的妻子和两个孩子生活在一起，建立了一种亲密的知性的关系。尽管灾难毁了他们的生活，两个男人仍旧保持兄弟般的友谊。西里•休斯特维特给我们讲述了一个血泪交织的悲剧故事，掩卷之后仍久久盘旋在我们的脑际。 <br>
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　　6．《世界上的犹太区》 <br>
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　　弗列德里克•布雷奈尔 著 <br>
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　　拉•马尔第尼艾尔出版社(La Martinière) <br>
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　　弗列德里克•布雷奈尔的工作从好几个方面来说都是惊人的：计划宏大，实践严谨，成果精美。两卷书收藏在一个硬盒中，第一卷收录黑白照片，第二卷是文字，灰色印刷。有必要指出的是，其中一卷并非另一卷的解释说明。两卷结合起来，讲述了在这个他们险些灭亡的世纪之末，在世界各地不同国家生活着的犹太人。联系两卷书的，除去一个摄影家的目光外，便是一个温和的爱好者对记忆的感动。两卷书是对中欧和对以前的世界的乡思。 <br>
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　　7．《派尔松纳》 <br>
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　　林妲•蕾 著 <br>
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　　克里斯蒂安•布尔若出版社(Christian Bourgeois） <br>
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　　林妲•蕾这部小说中叙述声音是多重的，有派尔松纳，这是一个人的名字，与“作者/讲述者”拉开距离。派尔松纳，结束他守夜人的工作后，在退信部门工作，争取把寄丢的信件返还发信人。他只在脑中进行这项工作。还有蒂玛，派尔松纳发现了一台被淘汰的计算机，她是计算机的记事本中逃出来的女人。她存在过吗？她只是派尔松纳的虚构或臆想？她是一名博物馆的管理员，墓碑死者卧像厅的展出让她觉得不安。在日记中，她提到遇见过一名神秘的男子，还有布拉格，在她眼中，这个城市知道怎样对世界再次施以魔法。最后，还有作者“我”在旁白（这是一篇关于文学的微型论文）中抱怨小说人物的自主性，“我小说中的人物根本不愿接受我给他们安排的未来。他们总是逃跑，而我在后面追赶。” <br>
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　　在这部断断续续的作品中，林妲•蕾植入了一种既忧郁又诙谐的笑容。 <br>
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　　8．《克拉拉与明暗交叠》 <br>
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　　约瑟•卡罗斯•索莫扎著（古巴），玛利亚娜•米雍 译，阿可特•苏德出版社(Actes Sud） <br>
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　　你觉得目瞪口呆，匪夷所思，一切都被这支生花妙笔调动着。我们无法确定古巴作家约瑟•卡罗斯•索莫扎这部小说的类型。2006年，“极端戏剧艺术”取代了所有其他形式的绘画，与之相比，身体艺术都显得虚伪做作。“画布”就是身体，一般来说，是美丽的少女的身体，绘画前，要经过长时间甚至是侮辱性的紧张训练使身体准备就绪，然后，展出作品，然后……出售作品。当克拉拉知道大师布努诺•凡•笛奇有意以她的身体做画时，这个年轻的西班牙女孩愤怒了……从这个令人心跳加速的故事出发，小说向读者指出了思考之路：什么是一部伟大小说最杰出之处，什么是索莫扎小说最杰出之处。我们希望，如同在此之前的许多伟大的作品，这部作品不会成为一个预言！ <br>
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　　9．《塔列朗传》 <br>
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　　艾玛纽爱尔•德•瓦亥吉耶 著 <br>
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　　菲亚出版社（Fayard） <br>
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　　对于塔列朗，我们不知道他哪一个特点更吸引人：一个以其天才影响他的客人的优秀的谈话者；一个吸引所有女性也随时背叛所有人的男人；一个卓越的外交家，在维也纳大会上，他成功地为战败的法国争取到和欧洲其他强国一样平等的条件；他是处决路易十六的继承人——昂显公爵的幕后指使者，但也为波旁王朝的复辟贡献了力量，一个天才的两面派？艾玛纽爱尔•德•瓦亥吉耶为我们描绘的形象达到了与其本人同样的高度，一名王室成员，更确切地说，一名帝国的成员，毕竟，他主要是为拿破仑效力。重要的是，塔列朗表现出他的历史真实性：一个躲过十八世纪革命风暴的贵族，在那个自以为已经获得解放的社会中，他身上仍残留着旧王朝的行为方式与思维。 <br>
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　　10．《让•科克多》 <br>
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　　克罗德•阿尔诺 著 <br>
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　　伽利马出版社（Gallimard） <br>
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　　今年正好是科克多逝世四十周年。近十年来，没有出版过关于他的大型传记。也许是因为，作为诗人，剧作家，小说家，电影艺术家，文体家，雕塑家，画家，这位出人意料、难以捉摸而又千变万化艺术家，在不间断的漩涡中不停地变换自己的方向和身份，因此难以被讲述。要有克罗德•阿尔诺的天才，才能跟随艺术家其人进入他的变形记，进入他存在的艰难，创作的热情和他“以半虚构形式面对一切”的方式。这部860页的作品排版紧凑，资料精确，文笔优美。传记家本人也是小说家，善于传达当时艺术界的复杂和创造者与其同时代人的关系，最主要的是，他成功地一一摘下了科克多的各种面具，使这位幻觉大师涉及众多领域、数量繁多的作品得以被理解。 <br>
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　　11．《石处女》 <br>
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　　伊冯娜•维拉著（津巴布韦） <br>
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　　热内维芙•多兹译, 菲亚出版社（Fayard） <br>
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　　绝无仅有，我们合上伊冯娜•维拉的小说时，脑海中就是这个词。不仅因为津巴布韦的小说本来就少见，更重要的是女作家显示了她在文体上的天赋和再现场景时非同寻常的能力。 <br>
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　　罗德西亚南部，70年代末期：唐吉芙和塞法斯•杜波度过了一段短暂的田园生活，然后两次战争先后爆发，国家陷于火海血海。第二次战争期间，年轻的姑娘在她妹妹侬塞琶面前被凌辱后杀害。面对媒体提供的不计其数的报道，小说还有它的力量吗？当然！维拉的小说就是证明。现实主义与隐喻相交织，女作家谱写了一曲杰出的乐章，这是一曲人道主义的颂歌，然而残酷。 <br>
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　　12．《夏多布里昂：诗与恐惧》 <br>
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　　马克•傅玛霍里 著 <br>
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　　法卢瓦出版社（Fallois） <br>
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　　“本书不是一部传记”，马克•傅玛霍里明确指出。自然，写一个只对他个人负责的人的一生有什么意义呢？这部作品同时是一本文学随笔，历史研究和文本批评：它将《墓外回忆录》放到了恰如其分的位置，也就是说最高处，为作家画了一幅最能体现从旧制度到现代世界转变过程的站姿肖像。这段经历空前的暴力。历史上第一个集权制，雅各宾人的专制在这个“生活温和”的国度中制造了恐怖。夏多布里昂的一家在瓦米尔政变和热月政变之间被杀害，他的身份首先是一个死里逃生的人。“人们将丝毫不能了解他的作品，他的行为，他的基督教，他的空虚，如果人们忘了他是燔祭中的幸存者的话。”作为普鲁塔克的信徒，傅玛霍里谈到了许多与夏多布里昂同时代的人：圣•西蒙，塔列朗，托克维尔，拿破仑，卢梭。他提醒我们夏多布里昂子爵早已经创造出了普鲁斯特的玛德莱娜的小甜饼和重拾的时间。 <br>
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　　13．《为了面对日出》 <br>
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　　约翰•迈甘荷 著（爱尔兰） <br>
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　　弗朗索瓦兹•卡尔达诺 译 <br>
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　　阿尔班•米歇尔出版社（Albin Michel） <br>
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　　一日阴雨一日晴。牧草要收回。马上，或明天。连续不断的晚会。总是差不多的，没什么区别。凯特和茹特雷吉住到一个离小镇几公里的小区中，在湖边。得让这儿的人们接受他们。这两个刚从伦敦来的人结识了他们有点多疑的邻居们。他们最初小心谨慎，后来完全放心了。从此，小区中的居民推开他们的房门，不再犹豫。谈话围绕着一杯热威士忌，或一杯热茶展开。人们什么都说也什么都不说。有时，会讲些知心话。随着断断续续的谈话，人物性格渐渐浮现，变得清晰。这是如此的爱尔兰，又如此的世界性。作者没有打算画讽刺画，他爱他的人物。他为他们倾注心血付出时间，描绘出每个人最好的一面。我们喜爱这本书就如同喜爱一个老朋友之间的平静的晚会，交谈轻松而实在。 <br>
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　　14．《幻想的死亡》 <br>
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　　米歇尔•施耐德 著,格拉塞出版社(Grasset） <br>
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　　米歇尔•施耐德为我们描述了36位作家最后的一刻，由此证明死亡是生命的一部分，是对生命的总结，是最终的启示。纳博科夫归还他的灵魂时，想到了蝴蝶。契诃夫死在德国一个温泉城市，他说，“我走了”这份简洁的笔录，让我们感受到他是一名医生，一个语言洗练的散文体大师，一个不用他东道主的语言的谦逊的人。维克多•雨果，仍在不可救药地推敲他最后一首亚历山大体诗。阿那多尔•法朗士，像许多英雄的士兵一样，轻声低语，“妈妈，妈妈。” <br>
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　　15．《噩梦》 <br>
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　　纽阿拉•奥法兰 著（爱尔兰） <br>
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　　史蒂芬•卡米尔 译 <br>
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　　沙宾娜•维斯比塞出版社（Sabine Weispieser） <br>
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　　一年半以前，我们发现了两个女人：一个写作，另一个出版。出版人沙宾娜•维斯比塞在自己的出版社成立之初推出了《我们曾经相识》，这本陌生的爱尔兰女作家纽阿拉•奥法兰的自传令我们震惊。沙宾娜•维斯比塞再次出版她的作品，也是作者的第一本小说。《噩梦》让我们再度领略了作者讲述在一个禁止堕胎的国家中一个女人可能遭遇的生活时的才华。纽阿拉•奥法兰现年六十多岁，长时间担任《爱尔兰时报》的专栏撰稿人，晚年才成为作家。她计划再完成一到两本书后，就隐居到小屋中，与爱犬做伴。因为回忆过去让她太过痛苦。在她作品的每一页中，我们都可以感受到她极度的敏感，以及生之痛苦。 <br>
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　　16．《唯一的爱》 <br>
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　　多米尼克•波娜 著 <br>
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　　格拉塞出版社（Grasset） <br>
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　　多米尼克•波娜是好几部传记的作者（罗曼•加里，贝尔特•莫里索），但在这部安德列•莫洛亚的传记中，她放弃了简单的编年记录形式，与事件拉开距离，写出了一部优秀的、引人入胜的作品。她选择了通过作家爱过的三个女人来描述他，她们分别代表了他性格中不同的方面。首先是与雅林娜•德•赞吉耶维克的激情之爱，然后是与西蒙娜•德•卡瓦耶的理智之爱，最后是与玛利亚•里维拉的欲望之爱。从《气候》到《九月的玫瑰》，到最后的《迦南地》，多米尼克•波娜告诉我们这些小说是怎样地完全取材于作者的生活。为了写这部作品，在安德列•莫洛亚的外甥罗贝尔•那盖的帮助，她得以查阅了家庭档案。我们可以想象她沉浸在那些日记、照片和书信时的快乐。她把这个快乐带给了我们，同时带给我们重新阅读这个不应该被遗忘的作家的愿望。 <br>
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　　17．《旅伴》 <br>
<br>
　　罗贝尔•里戴尔 著 <br>
<br>
　　比谢-夏斯戴尔出版社（Buchet-Chastel） <br>
<br>
　　罗贝尔•里戴尔原为著名记者，东方及中东问题专家，近三十年来，他成为伟大的间谍小说作家。《旅伴》是他至今为止最好的作品，足以让约翰•勒•卡雷嫉妒得眼红。这本关于美国中央情报局的鸿篇巨著从1950年代一直讲叙到1991年，莫斯科军事政变失败宣告了苏联共产主义的结束。小说有两个主人公，哈维•托里提，又名巫师，他的徒弟杰克•迈克•奥里弗，他们穿行于黑暗的世界，周旋于双重或三重间谍之间，在多方面执行幕后操纵。跟随他们，我们经历了多灾多难的猪湾事件，去到腐败的越南。其间，我们遇见肯尼迪，布里兹涅夫，艾尔特辛那或里根。所有的都是真实的，所有的都是幻想的，在这段清醒而有趣的历险中，秘密任务的双重性达到了艺术的顶峰。里戴尔在完全掌握了他研究的材料后，便将其束之一角，给我们讲述了这个令我们爱不释手的故事。 <br>
<br>
　　18．《应该拯救萨伊德》 <br>
<br>
　　布里吉特•司玛迪雅 著 <br>
<br>
　　艾高尔•德•鲁瓦其尔出版社(L’Ecole des loisirs) <br>
<br>
　　这篇小说简短犀利，毫不隐晦地道出了一个小男孩被无情地禁闭的命运：他生活在阿拉伯区，觉得自己是个法国人。应该拯救这个热爱法语想学习法语单词并写作的萨伊德。由于他的堂哥达亥克和他的哥哥亚伯代尔克里姆的小团伙的阻碍，他没有去做他想做的事情的权利。没有人斗得过这两个孩子王。在学校里，他们进行可疑的交易，掀起事端，制定法律。在家里，所有人都害怕他们，沉默不语。应该拯救萨伊德，因为尽管他的好朋友安托尼聪明慷慨，也束手无策：要理解家庭对他的影响和他所受到的要挟实在太难了。谁将拯救萨伊德和那些情况跟他一样的孩子们？情况紧急。在讨论学校和教育今天，应该把这本小书给十岁以上的孩子们读，我们自己也来读它。这是一个现实问题，一个人道主义的问题。 <br>
<br>
　　19《无知》 <br>
<br>
　　米兰•昆德拉 著 <br>
<br>
　　伽利马出版社（Gallimard） <br>
<br>
　　在寻根的路上，米兰•昆德拉遇见了两个朝圣者，一个男人和一个女人。二十年前，他们离开了这个现在叫捷克的家乡。女人在巴黎住下了，另一个在丹麦。他们原来彼此认识吗？女人觉得是，男人不确定。现在，他们过各自的生活，结婚，失去配偶，工作，他们对这次恢复联系都没有什么可以担心的。他们相信昔日的朋友会帮助他们回归曾经放弃的轨道。那是昨天。也许，但昨天已不存在。在金属卷帘门后，每个人都跟随发生的事件处理各自的事务。语言本身演变了。怀着晦暗不明的遗憾、内疚和欲望，他们自我放逐了三天。彼此间的失望会因他们的结合而终止吗？女人这样希望。她自由了。男人知道他无法摆脱“生命不能承受之轻”。读者也不能。米兰•昆德拉把我们带到他想去的地方，带到这个同样也是我们自己的过去，让我们相信我们都是流放者。 <br>
<br>
　　20．《哺乳动物》 <br>
<br>
　　皮埃尔•梅罗 著 <br>
<br>
　　弗拉玛里雍出版社（Flammarion） <br>
<br>
　　这并不是一本真正的小说，也不完全是一本自传。它更像一个一事无成的、与叙述者如同兄弟般相像的人的故事，尽管他的外号是“叔叔”。《哺乳动物》是一首赞歌，献给深夜的酒吧，献给为日常生活带来光明的酒精，献给那些坐在丝绒高脚凳上的微笑着的、持相同看法的姑娘们。皮埃尔•梅罗的文笔有乌艾尔贝克之风，当他亲切地谈起那些夜间不断被斟满的酒杯时，又是布隆丹的语气。我们就这样任自己被诱惑，被那些带着些许毁灭性的散步，被那些冷嘲热讽，那些辛辣的言辞。微不足道的职业，放纵的聚会，瞬间的情爱，无尽的孤独。皮埃尔•梅罗描绘了一种永远不会成为典范的生活模式。皮埃尔•梅罗不失时机地批判一切改变，出版社，教育，不忠的女人，本分的男人。书中焦虑灼人，语句尖刻，时有意外发生。最后，他面对生活甚至奢侈地笑了，惨淡的笑容里，将杯底在唇边饮穿。 <br><br><br>

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Part VI<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
And after a year was over the Soul came down to the shore of the sea and called to the young Fisherman, and he rose out of the deep, and said, ‘Why dost thou call to me?’<br>
<br>
And the Soul answered, ‘Come nearer, that I may speak with thee, for I have seen marvellous things.’<br>
<br>
So he came nearer, and couched in the shallow water, and leaned his head upon his hand and listened.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
And the Soul said to him, ‘When I left thee I turned my face to the East and journeyed. From the East cometh everything that is wise. Six days I journeyed, and on the morning of the seventh day I came to a hill that is in the country of the Tartars. I sat down under the shade of a tamarisk tree to shelter myself from the sun. The land was dry and burnt up with the heat. The people went to and fro over the plain like flies crawling upon a disk of polished copper.<br>
<br>
‘When it was noon a cloud of red dust rose up from the flat rim of the land. When the Tartars saw it, they strung their painted bows, and having leapt upon their little horses they galloped to meet it. The women fled screaming to the waggons, and hid themselves behind the felt curtains.<br>
<br>
‘At twilight the Tartars returned, but five of them were missing, and of those that came back not a few had been wounded. They harnessed their horses to the waggons and drove hastily away. Three jackals came out of a cave and peered after them. Then they sniffed up the air with their nostrils, and trotted off in the opposite direction.<br>
<br>
‘When the moon rose I saw a camp-fire burning on the plain, and went towards it. A company of merchants were seated round it on carpets. Their camels were picketed behind them, and the negroes who were their servants were pitching tents of tanned skin upon the sand, and making a high wall of the prickly pear.<br>
<br>
‘As I came near them, the chief of the merchants rose up and drew his sword, and asked me my business.<br>
<br>
‘I answered that I was a Prince in my own land, and that I had escaped from the Tartars, who had sought to make me their slave. The chief smiled, and showed me five heads fixed upon long reeds of bamboo.<br>
<br>
‘Then he asked me who was the prophet of God, and I answered him Mohammed.<br>
<br>
‘When he heard the name of the false prophet, he bowed and took me by the hand, and placed me by his side. A negro brought me some mare’s milk in a wooden dish, and a piece of lamb’s flesh roasted.<br>
<br>
‘At daybreak we started on our journey. I rode on a red-haired camel by the side of the chief, and a runner ran before us carrying a spear. The men of war were on either hand, and the mules followed with the merchandise. There were forty camels in the caravan, and the mules were twice forty in number.<br>
<br>
‘We went from the country of the Tartars into the country of those who curse the Moon. We saw the Gryphons guarding their gold on the white rocks, and the scaled Dragons sleeping in their caves. As we passed over the mountains we held our breath lest the snows might fall on us, and each man tied a veil of gauze before his eyes. As we passed through the valleys the Pygmies shot arrows at us from the hollows of the trees, and at night-time we heard the wild men beating on their drums. When we came to the Tower of Apes we set fruits before them, and they did not harm us. When we came to the Tower of Serpents we gave them warm milk in howls of brass, and they let us go by. Three times in our journey we came to the banks of the Oxus. We crossed it on rafts of wood with great bladders of blown hide. The river-horses raged against us and sought to slay us. When the camels saw them they trembled.<br>
<br>
‘The kings of each city levied tolls on us, but would not suffer us to enter their gates. They threw us bread over the walls, little maize-cakes baked in honey and cakes of fine flour filled with dates. For every hundred baskets we gave them a bead of amber.<br>
<br>
‘When the dwellers in the villages saw us coming, they poisoned the wells and fled to the hill-summits. We fought with the Magadae who are born old, and grow younger and younger every year, and die when they are little children; and with the Laktroi who say that they are the sons of tigers, and paint themselves yellow and black; and with the Aurantes who bury their dead on the tops of trees, and themselves live in dark caverns lest the Sun, who is their god, should slay them; and with the Krimnians who worship a crocodile, and give it earrings of green glass, and feed it with butter and fresh fowls; and with the Agazonbae, who are dog-faced; and with the Sibans, who have horses’ feet, and run more swiftly than horses. A third of our company died in battle, and a third died of want. The rest murmured against me, and said that I had brought them an evil fortune. I took a horned adder from beneath a stone and let it sting me. When they saw that I did not sicken they grew afraid.<br>
<br>
‘In the fourth month we reached the city of Illel. It was night-time when we came to the grove that is outside the walls, and the air was sultry, for the Moon was travelling in Scorpion. We took the ripe pomegranates from the trees, and brake them, and drank their sweet juices. Then we lay down on our carpets, and waited for the dawn.<br>
<br>
‘And at dawn we rose and knocked at the gate of the city. It was wrought out of red bronze, and carved with sea-dragons and dragons that have wings. The guards looked down from the battlements and asked us our business. The interpreter of the caravan answered that we had come from the island of Syria with much merchandise. They took hostages, and told us that they would open the gate to us at noon, and bade us tarry till then.<br>
<br>
‘When it was noon they opened the gate, and as we entered in the people came crowding out of the houses to look at us, and a crier went round the city crying through a shell. We stood in the market-place, and the negroes uncorded the bales of figured cloths and opened the carved chests of sycamore. And when they had ended their task, the merchants set forth their strange wares, the waxed linen from Egypt and the painted linen from the country of the Ethiops, the purple sponges from Tyre and the blue hangings from Sidon, the cups of cold amber and the fine vessels of glass and the curious vessels of burnt clay. From the roof of a house a company of women watched us. One of them wore a mask of gilded leather.<br>
<br>
‘And on the first day the priests came and bartered with us, and on the second day came the nobles, and on the third day came the craftsmen and the slaves. And this is their custom with all merchants as long as they tarry in the city.<br>
<br>
‘And we tarried for a moon, and when the moon was waning, I wearied and wandered away through the streets of the city and came to the garden of its god. The priests in their yellow robes moved silently through the green trees, and on a pavement of black marble stood the rose-red house in which the god had his dwelling. Its doors were of powdered lacquer, and bulls and peacocks were wrought on them in raised and polished gold. The tilted roof was of sea-green porcelain, and the jutting eaves were festooned with little bells. When the white doves flew past, they struck the bells with their wings and made them tinkle.<br>
<br>
‘In front of the temple was a pool of clear water paved with veined onyx. I lay down beside it, and with my pale fingers I touched the broad leaves. One of the priests came towards me and stood behind me. He had sandals on his feet, one of soft serpent-skin and the other of birds’ plumage. On his head was a mitre of black felt decorated with silver crescents. Seven yellows were woven into his robe, and his frizzed hair was stained with antimony.<br>
<br>
‘After a little while he spake to me, and asked me my desire.<br>
<br>
‘I told him that my desire was to see the god.<br>
<br>
‘“The god is hunting,” said the priest, looking strangely at me with his small slanting eyes.<br>
<br>
‘“Tell me in what forest, and I will ride with him,” I answered.<br>
<br>
‘He combed out the soft fringes of his tunic with his long pointed nails. “The god is asleep,” he murmured.<br>
<br>
‘“Tell me on what couch, and I will watch by him,” I answered.<br>
<br>
‘“The god is at the feast,” he cried.<br>
<br>
‘“If the wine be sweet I will drink it with him, and if it be bitter I will drink it with him also,” was my answer.<br>
<br>
‘He bowed his head in wonder, and, taking me by the hand, he raised me up, and led me into the temple.<br>
<br>
‘And in the first chamber I saw an idol seated on a throne of jasper bordered with great orient pearls. It was carved out of ebony, and in stature was of the stature of a man. On its forehead was a ruby, and thick oil dripped from its hair on to its thighs. Its feet were red with the blood of a newly-slain kid, and its loins girt with a copper belt that was studded with seven beryls.<br>
<br>
‘And I said to the priest, “Is this the god?” And he answered me, “This is the god.”<br>
<br>
‘“Show me the god,” I cried, “or I will surely slay thee.” And I touched his hand, and it became withered.<br>
<br>
‘And the priest besought me, saying, “Let my lord heal his servant, and I will show him the god.”<br>
<br>
‘So I breathed with my breath upon his hand, and it became whole again, and he trembled and led me into the second chamber, and I saw an idol standing on a lotus of jade hung with great emeralds. It was carved out of ivory, and in stature was twice the stature of a man. On its forehead was a chrysolite, and its breasts were smeared with myrrh and cinnamon. In one hand it held a crooked sceptre of jade, and in the other a round crystal. It ware buskins of brass, and its thick neck was circled with a circle of selenites.<br>
<br>
‘And I said to the priest, “Is this the god?”<br>
<br>
‘And he answered me, “This is the god.”<br>
<br>
‘“Show me the god,” I cried, “or I will surely slay thee.” And I touched his eyes, and they became blind.<br>
<br>
‘And the priest besought me, saying, “Let my lord heal his servant, and I will show him the god.”<br>
<br>
‘So I breathed with my breath upon his eyes, and the sight came back to them, and he trembled again, and led me into the third chamber, and lo! there was no idol in it, nor image of any kind, but only a mirror of round metal set on an altar of stone.<br>
<br>
‘And I said to the priest, “Where is the god?”<br>
<br>
‘And he answered me: “There is no god but this mirror that thou seest, for this is the Mirror of Wisdom. And it reflecteth all things that are in heaven and on earth, save only the face of him who looketh into it. This it reflecteth not, so that he who looketh into it may be wise. Many other mirrors are there, but they are mirrors of Opinion. This only is the Mirror of Wisdom. And they who possess this mirror know everything, nor is there anything hidden from them. And they who possess it not have not Wisdom. Therefore is it the god, and we worship it.” And I looked into the mirror, and it was even as he had said to me.<br>
<br>
‘And I did a strange thing, but what I did matters not, for in a valley that is but a day’s journey from this place have I hidden the Mirror of Wisdom. Do but suffer me to enter into thee again and be thy servant, and thou shalt be wiser than all the wise men, and Wisdom shall be thine. Suffer me to enter into thee, and none will be as wise as thou.’<br>
<br>
But the young Fisherman laughed. ‘Love is better than Wisdom,’ he cried, ‘and the little Mermaid loves me.’<br>
<br>
‘Nay, but there is nothing better than Wisdom,’ said the Soul.<br>
<br>
‘Love is better,’ answered the young Fisherman, and he plunged into the deep, and the Soul went weeping away over the marshes.<br>
<br>
<br>

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“丝管醉春风”，呵呵，原来也是一个微酸的才俊，现在这个名字可能更好，云淡风清地写意！

最后发表： 闲过信陵饮
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Part IV<br>
<br>
<br>
But the little Dwarf knew nothing of all this. He liked the birds and the lizards immensely, and thought that the flowers were the most marvellous things in the whole world, except of course the Infanta, but then she had given him the beautiful white rose, and she loved him, and that made a great difference. How he wished that he had gone back with her! She would have put him on her right hand, and smiled at him, and he would have never left her side, but would have made her his playmate, and taught her all kinds of delightful tricks. For though he had never been in a palace before, he knew a great many wonderful things. He could make little cages out of rushes for the grasshoppers to sing in, and fashion the long jointed bamboo into the pipe that Pan loves to hear. He knew the cry of every bird, and could call the starlings from the tree-top, or the heron from the mere. He knew the trail of every animal, and could track the hare by its delicate footprints, and the boar by the trampled leaves. All the wild-dances he knew, the mad dance in red raiment with the autumn, the light dance in blue sandals over the corn, the dance with white snow-wreaths in winter, and the blossom-dance through the orchards in spring. He knew where the wood-pigeons built their nests, and once when a fowler had snared the parent birds, he had brought up the young ones himself, and had built a little dovecot for them in the cleft of a pollard elm. They were quite tame, and used to feed out of his hands every morning. She would like them, and the rabbits that scurried about in the long fern, and the jays with their steely feathers and black bills, and the hedgehogs that could curl themselves up into prickly balls, and the great wise tortoises that crawled slowly about, shaking their heads and nibbling at the young leaves. Yes, she must certainly come to the forest and play with him. He would give her his own little bed, and would watch outside the window till dawn, to see that the wild horned cattle did not harm her, nor the gaunt wolves creep too near the hut. And at dawn he would tap at the shutters and wake her, and they would go out and dance together all the day long. It was really not a bit lonely in the forest. Sometimes a Bishop rode through on his white mule, reading out of a painted book. Sometimes in their green velvet caps, and their jerkins of tanned deerskin, the falconers passed by, with hooded hawks on their wrists. At vintage-time came the grape-treaders, with purple hands and feet, wreathed with glossy ivy and carrying dripping skins of wine; and the charcoal-burners sat round their huge braziers at night, watching the dry logs charring slowly in the fire, and roasting chestnuts in the ashes, and the robbers came out of their caves and made merry with them. Once, too, he had seen a beautiful procession winding up the long dusty road to Toledo. The monks went in front singing sweetly, and carrying bright banners and crosses of gold, and then, in silver armour, with matchlocks and pikes, came the soldiers, and in their midst walked three barefooted men, in strange yellow dresses painted all over with wonderful figures, and carrying lighted candles in their hands. Certainly there was a great deal to look at in the forest, and when she was tired he would find a soft bank of moss for her, or carry her in his arms, for he was very strong, though he knew that he was not tall. He would make her a necklace of red bryony berries, that would be quite as pretty as the white berries that she wore on her dress, and when she was tired of them, she could throw them away, and he would find her others. He would bring her acorn-cups and dew-drenched anemones, and tiny glow-worms to be stars in the pale gold of her hair.<br>
<br>
But where was she? He asked the white rose, and it made him no answer. The whole palace seemed asleep, and even where the shutters had not been closed, heavy curtains had been drawn across the windows to keep out the glare. He wandered all round looking for some place through which he might gain an entrance, and at last he caught sight of a little private door that was lying open. He slipped through, and found himself in a splendid hall, far more splendid, he feared, than the forest, there was so much more gilding everywhere, and even the floor was made of great coloured stones, fitted together into a sort of geometrical pattern. But the little Infanta was not there, only some wonderful white statues that looked down on him from their jasper pedestals, with sad blank eyes and strangely smiling lips.<br>
<br>
At the end of the hall hung a richly embroidered curtain of black velvet, powdered with suns and stars, the King’s favourite devices, and broidered on the colour he loved best. Perhaps she was hiding behind that? He would try at any rate.<br>
<br>
So he stole quietly across, and drew it aside. No; there was only another room, though a prettier room, he thought, than the one he had just left. The walls were hung with a many-figured green arras of needle-wrought tapestry representing a hunt, the work of some Flemish artists who had spent more than seven years in its composition. It had once been the chamber of Jean le Fou, as he was called, that mad King who was so enamoured of the chase, that he had often tried in his delirium to mount the huge rearing horses, and to drag down the stag on which the great hounds were leaping, sounding his hunting horn, and stabbing with his dagger at the pale flying deer. It was now used as the council-room, and on the centre table were lying the red portfolios of the ministers, stamped with the gold tulips of Spain, and with the arms and emblems of the house of Hapsburg.<br>
<br>
The little Dwarf looked in wonder all round him, and was half-afraid to go on. The strange silent horsemen that galloped so swiftly through the long glades without making any noise, seemed to him like those terrible phantoms of whom he had heard the charcoal-burners speaking - the Comprachos, who hunt only at night, and if they meet a man, turn him into a hind, and chase him. But he thought of the pretty Infanta, and took courage. He wanted to find her alone, and to tell her that he too loved her. Perhaps she was in the room beyond.<br>
<br>
He ran across the soft Moorish carpets, and opened the door. No! She was not here either. The room was quite empty.<br>
<br>
It was a throne-room, used for the reception of foreign ambassadors, when the King, which of late had not been often, consented to give them a personal audience; the same room in which, many years before, envoys had appeared from England to make arrangements for the marriage of their Queen, then one of the Catholic sovereigns of Europe, with the Emperor’s eldest son. The hangings were of gilt Cordovan leather, and a heavy gilt chandelier with branches for three hundred wax lights hung down from the black and white ceiling. Underneath a great canopy of gold cloth, on which the lions and towers of Castile were broidered in seed pearls, stood the throne itself, covered with a rich pall of black velvet studded with silver tulips and elaborately fringed with silver and pearls. On the second step of the throne was placed the kneeling-stool of the Infanta, with its cushion of cloth of silver tissue, and below that again, and beyond the limit of the canopy, stood the chair for the Papal Nuncio, who alone had the right to be seated in the King’s presence on the occasion of any public ceremonial, and whose Cardinal’s hat, with its tangled scarlet tassels, lay on a purple tabouret in front. On the wall, facing the throne, hung a life-sized portrait of Charles V. in hunting dress, with a great mastiff by his side, and a picture of Philip II. receiving the homage of the Netherlands occupied the centre of the other wall. Between the windows stood a black ebony cabinet, inlaid with plates of ivory, on which the figures from Holbein’s Dance of Death had been graved - by the hand, some said, of that famous master himself.<br>
<br>
But the little Dwarf cared nothing for all this magnificence. He would not have given his rose for all the pearls on the canopy, nor one white petal of his rose for the throne itself. What he wanted was to see the Infanta before she went down to the pavilion, and to ask her to come away with him when he had finished his dance. Here, in the Palace, the air was close and heavy, but in the forest the wind blew free, and the sunlight with wandering hands of gold moved the tremulous leaves aside. There were flowers, too, in the forest, not so splendid, perhaps, as the flowers in the garden, but more sweetly scented for all that; hyacinths in early spring that flooded with waving purple the cool glens, and grassy knolls; yellow primroses that nestled in little clumps round the gnarled roots of the oak-trees; bright celandine, and blue speedwell, and irises lilac and gold. There were grey catkins on the hazels, and the foxgloves drooped with the weight of their dappled bee-haunted cells. The chestnut had its spires of white stars, and the hawthorn its pallid moons of beauty. Yes: surely she would come if he could only find her! She would come with him to the fair forest, and all day long he would dance for her delight. A smile lit up his eyes at the thought, and he passed into the next room.<br>
<br>
<br>

最后发表： 闲过信陵饮
回复内容：
终于贴完了,帖子长度有限制真是麻烦啊。<br>
<br>
想当年（上初中的时候吧）俺就是看了这篇童话的英文简写本后痛哭流涕，从此迷上了王尔德<img src="../leadbbsfile/UBBicon/em03.GIF" width=46 height=46 align=absmiddle border=0>。<br>
<br>
明后两天我再来贴两篇更经典的，虽然有耐心看完这么长一大篇的东西的人可能不多，但如此灿烂凄美的文笔，只要细细品味，就一定会喜欢上的！<img src="../leadbbsfile/UBBicon/em28.GIF" width=46 height=46 align=absmiddle border=0><br>
<br>

最后发表： 闲过信陵饮
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The Selfish Giant<br>By Oscar Wilde<br>
<br>
<br>
Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant’s garden.<br>
<br>
It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. “How happy we are here!” they cried to each other.<br>
<br>
One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.<br>
<br>
“What are you doing here?” he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.<br>
<br>
“My own garden is my own garden,” said the Giant; “any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.” So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
TRESPASSERS<br>
WILL BE<br>
PROSECUTED<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
He was a very selfish Giant.<br>
<br>
The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside. “How happy we were there,” they said to each other.<br>
<br>
Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. “Spring has forgotten this garden,” they cried, “so we will live here all the year round.” The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. “This is a delightful spot,” he said, “we must ask the Hail on a visit.” So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.<br>
<br>
“I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,” said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; “I hope there will be a change in the weather.”<br>
<br>
But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant’s garden she gave none. “He is too selfish,” she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.<br>
<br>
One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King’s musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. “I believe the Spring has come at last,” said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.<br>
<br>
What did he see?<br>
<br>
He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children’s heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. “Climb up! little boy,” said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.<br>
<br>
And the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out. “How selfish I have been!” he said; “now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children’s playground for ever and ever.” He was really very sorry for what he had done.<br>
<br>
So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant’s neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring. “It is your garden now, little children,” said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were going to market at twelve o’clock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.<br>
<br>
All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.<br>
<br>
“But where is your little companion?” he said: “the boy I put into the tree.” The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.<br>
<br>
“We don’t know,” answered the children; “he has gone away.”<br>
<br>
“You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,” said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.<br>
<br>
Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. “How I would like to see him!” he used to say.<br>
<br>
Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. “I have many beautiful flowers,” he said; “but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.”<br>
<br>
One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting.<br>
<br>
Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.<br>
<br>
Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, “Who hath dared to wound thee?” For on the palms of the child’s hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.<br>
<br>
“Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant; “tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.”<br>
<br>
“Nay!” answered the child; “but these are the wounds of Love.”<br>
<br>
“Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.<br>
<br>
And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, “You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.”<br>
<br>
And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.<br>
<br>
<br>

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i like this piece very much!

最后发表： 闲过信陵饮
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The Happy Prince<br>By Oscar Wilde<br>
<br>
Part II<br>
<br>
When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. “What a remarkable phenomenon,” said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. “A swallow in winter!” And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.<br>
<br>
“To-night I go to Egypt,” said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, “What a distinguished stranger!” so he enjoyed himself very much.<br>
<br>
When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. “Have you any commissions for Egypt?” he cried; “I am just starting.”<br>
<br>
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”<br>
<br>
“I am waited for in Egypt,” answered the Swallow. “To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water’s edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.<br>
<br>
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.”<br>
<br>
“I will wait with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. “Shall I take him another ruby?”<br>
<br>
“Alas! I have no ruby now,” said the Prince; “my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.”<br>
<br>
“Dear Prince,” said the Swallow, “I cannot do that”; and he began to weep.<br>
<br>
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”<br>
<br>
So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the student’s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.<br>
<br>
“I am beginning to be appreciated,” he cried; “this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,” and he looked quite happy.<br>
<br>
The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. “Heave a-hoy!” they shouted as each chest came up. “I am going to Egypt”! cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.<br>
<br>
“I am come to bid you good-bye,” he cried.<br>
<br>
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”<br>
<br>
“It is winter,” answered the Swallow, “and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.”<br>
<br>
“In the square below,” said the Happy Prince, “there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.”<br>
<br>
“I will stay with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, “but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.”<br>
<br>
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”<br>
<br>
So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. “What a lovely bit of glass,” cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.<br>
<br>
Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. “You are blind now,” he said, “so I will stay with you always.”<br>
<br>
“No, little Swallow,” said the poor Prince, “you must go away to Egypt.”<br>
<br>
“I will stay with you always,” said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince’s feet.<br>
<br>
All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.<br>
<br>
“Dear little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.”<br>
<br>
So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep themselves warm. “How hungry we are!” they said. “You must not lie here,” shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.<br>
<br>
Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.<br>
<br>
“I am covered with fine gold,” said the Prince, “you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.”<br>
<br>
Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. “We have bread now!” they cried.<br>
<br>
Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.<br>
<br>
The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker’s door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.<br>
<br>
But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more. “Good-bye, dear Prince!” he murmured, “will you let me kiss your hand?”<br>
<br>
“I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.”<br>
<br>
“It is not to Egypt that I am going,” said the Swallow. “I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?”<br>
<br>
And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.<br>
<br>
At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.<br>
<br>
Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: “Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!” he said.<br>
<br>
“How shabby indeed!” cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.<br>
<br>
“The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,” said the Mayor in fact, “he is litttle beter than a beggar!”<br>
<br>
“Little better than a beggar,” said the Town Councillors.<br>
<br>
“And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!” continued the Mayor. “We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.” And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.<br>
<br>
So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. “As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,” said the Art Professor at the University.<br>
<br>
Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. “We must have another statue, of course,” he said, “and it shall be a statue of myself.”<br>
<br>
“Of myself,” said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.<br>
<br>
“What a strange thing!” said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. “This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.” So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.<br>
<br>
“Bring me the two most precious things in the city,” said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.<br>
<br>
“You have rightly chosen,” said God, “for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.”<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>

最后发表： artemis
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信陵君多日不见，一来就诗兴大发啊！顶！

最后发表： 闲过信陵饮
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The House of Judgment<br>By Oscar Wilde<br>
<br>
<br>
And there was silence in the House of Judgment, and the Man came<br>
naked before God.<br>
<br>
And God opened the Book of the Life of the Man.<br>
<br>
And God said to the Man, 'Thy life hath been evil, and thou hast<br>
shown cruelty to those who were in need of succour, and to those who<br>
lacked help thou hast been bitter and hard of heart. The poor<br>
called to thee and thou didst not hearken, and thine ears were<br>
closed to the cry of My afflicted. The inheritance of the<br>
fatherless thou didst take unto thyself, and thou didst send the<br>
foxes into the vineyard of thy neighbour's field. Thou didst take<br>
the bread of the children and give it to the dogs to eat, and My<br>
lepers who lived in the marshes, and were at peace and praised Me,<br>
thou didst drive forth on to the highways, and on Mine earth out of<br>
which I made thee thou didst spill innocent blood.'<br>
<br>
And the Man made answer and said, 'Even so did I.'<br>
<br>
And again God opened the Book of the Life of the Man.<br>
<br>
And God said to the Man, 'Thy life hath been evil, and the Beauty I<br>
have shown thou hast sought for, and the Good I have hidden thou<br>
didst pass by. The walls of thy chamber were painted with images,<br>
and from the bed of thine abominations thou didst rise up to the<br>
sound of flutes. Thou didst build seven altars to the sins I have<br>
suffered, and didst eat of the thing that may not be eaten, and the<br>
purple of thy raiment was broidered with the three signs of shame.<br>
Thine idols were neither of gold nor of silver that endure, but of<br>
flesh that dieth. Thou didst stain their hair with perfumes and put<br>
pomegranates in their hands. Thou didst stain their feet with<br>
saffron and spread carpets before them. With antimony thou didst<br>
stain their eyelids and their bodies thou didst smear with myrrh.<br>
Thou didst bow thyself to the ground before them, and the thrones of<br>
thine idols were set in the sun. Thou didst show to the sun thy<br>
shame and to the moon thy madness.'<br>
<br>
And the Man made answer and said, 'Even so did I.'<br>
<br>
And a third time God opened the Book of the Life of the Man.<br>
<br>
And God said to the Man, 'Evil hath been thy life, and with evil<br>
didst thou requite good, and with wrongdoing kindness. The hands<br>
that fed thee thou didst wound, and the breasts that gave thee suck<br>
thou didst despise. He who came to thee with water went away<br>
thirsting, and the outlawed men who hid thee in their tents at night<br>
thou didst betray before dawn. Thine enemy who spared thee thou<br>
didst snare in an ambush, and the friend who walked with thee thou<br>
didst sell for a price, and to those who brought thee Love thou<br>
didst ever give Lust in thy turn.'<br>
<br>
And the Man made answer and said, 'Even so did I.'<br>
<br>
And God closed the Book of the Life of the Man, and said, 'Surely I<br>
will send thee into Hell. Even into Hell will I send thee.'<br>
<br>
And the Man cried out, 'Thou canst not.'<br>
<br>
And God said to the Man, 'Wherefore can I not send thee to Hell, and<br>
for what reason?'<br>
<br>
'Because in Hell have I always lived,' answered the Man.<br>
<br>
And there was silence in the House of Judgment.<br>
<br>
And after a space God spake, and said to the Man, 'Seeing that I may<br>
not send thee into Hell, surely I will send thee unto Heaven. Even<br>
unto Heaven will I send thee.'<br>
<br>
And the Man cried out, 'Thou canst not.'<br>
<br>
And God said to the Man, 'Wherefore can I not send thee unto Heaven,<br>
and for what reason?'<br>
<br>
'Because never, and in no place, have I been able to imagine it,'<br>
answered the Man.<br>
<br>
And there was silence in the House of Judgment.<br>
<br>
<br>

最后发表： 闲过信陵饮
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The Master<br>By Oscar Wilde<br>
<br>
<br>
Now when the darkness came over the earth Joseph of Arimathea,<br>
having lighted a torch of pinewood, passed down from the hill into<br>
the valley. For he had business in his own home.<br>
<br>
And kneeling on the flint stones of the Valley of Desolation he saw<br>
a young man who was naked and weeping. His hair was the colour of<br>
honey, and his body was as a white flower, but he had wounded his<br>
body with thorns and on his hair had he set ashes as a crown.<br>
<br>
And he who had great possessions said to the young man who was naked<br>
and weeping, 'I do not wonder that your sorrow is so great, for<br>
surely He was a just man.'<br>
<br>
And the young man answered, 'It is not for Him that I am weeping,<br>
but for myself. I too have changed water into wine, and I have<br>
healed the leper and given sight to the blind. I have walked upon<br>
the waters, and from the dwellers in the tombs I have cast out<br>
devils. I have fed the hungry in the desert where there was no<br>
food, and I have raised the dead from their narrow houses, and at my<br>
bidding, and before a great multitude, of people, a barren fig-tree<br>
withered away. All things that this man has done I have done also.<br>
And yet they have not crucified me.'<br>
<br>
<br>

最后发表： 闲过信陵饮
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The Disciple <br>By Oscar Wilde<br>
　　<br>
When Narcissus died the pool of his pleasure changed from a cup of sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, and the Oreads came weeping through the woodland that they might sing to the pool and give it comfort.<br>
　　<br>
And when they saw that the pool had changed from a cup of sweet waters into a cup of salt tears, they loosened the green tresses of their hair and cried to the pool and said, 'We do not wonder that you should mourn in this manner for Narcissus, so beautiful was he.'<br>
　　<br>
'But was Narcissus beautiful?' said the pool.<br>
　　<br>
'Who should know that better than you?' answered the Oreads. 'Us did he ever pass by, but you he sought for, and would lie on your banks and look down at you, and in the mirror of your waters he would mirror his own beauty.'<br>
　　<br>
And the pool answered, 'But I loved Narcissus because, as he lay on my banks and looked down at me, in the mirror of his eyes I saw ever my own beauty mirrored.'<br>
<br>

最后发表： 闲过信陵饮
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不好意思，好久没来这里交作业了，今天开始连载王尔德的散文诗和童话，大家不要和我抢哦～～<br>
<img src="../leadbbsfile/UBBicon/em36.GIF" width=46 height=46 align=absmiddle border=0><br>
<br>
<br>
The Artist<br>By Oscar Wilde<br>
<br>
One evening there came into his soul the desire to fashion an image<br>
of The Pleasure that abideth for a Moment. And he went forth into<br>
the world to look for bronze. For he could think only in bronze.<br>
<br>
But all the bronze of the whole world had disappeared, nor anywhere<br>
in the whole world was there any bronze to be found, save only the<br>
bronze of the image of The Sorrow that endureth for Ever.<br>
<br>
Now this image he had himself, and with his own hands, fashioned,<br>
and had set it on the tomb of the one thing he had loved in life.<br>
On the tomb of the dead thing he had most loved had he set this<br>
image of his own fashioning, that it might serve as a sign of the<br>
love of man that dieth not, and a symbol of the sorrow of man that<br>
endureth for ever. And in the whole world there was no other bronze<br>
save the bronze of this image.<br>
<br>
And he took the image he had fashioned, and set it in a great<br>
furnace, and gave it to the fire.<br>
<br>
And out of the bronze of the image of The Sorrow that endureth for<br>
Ever he fashioned an image of The Pleasure that abideth for a<br>
Moment.<br>
<br>

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i like this piece very much.<br>
<br>
thanks for sharing with us.