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呼嘯山莊(英文版) 版權信息
- ISBN：9787559421654
- 條形碼：9787559421654 ; 978-7-5594-2165-4
- 裝幀：一般純質紙
- 冊數：暫無
- 重量：暫無
- 所屬分類：>>
呼嘯山莊(英文版) 本書特色
讀過猶如擁有一種財富。 ——諾貝爾文學獎獲得者 莫言 《呼嘯山莊》的丑惡與美并存，而且它所表達的力量也是一般小說家難以企及的……我不知道還有哪一部小說曾經如此令人吃驚地描述出愛情的痛苦、迷戀、殘酷和執(zhí)著。 ——英國作家 毛姆 她朝著一個四分五裂的世界望去，而感到她本身有力量在一本書中把它拼湊起來。那種雄心壯志可以在全部小說中感覺得到——一種部分雖受到挫折，但卻具有宏偉信念的掙扎，通過她的人物的口中說出的不僅僅是“我愛”或“我恨”，卻是“我們，全人類”和“你們，永存的勢力……” ——英國作家 弗吉尼亞·伍爾夫 《呼嘯山莊》以藝術的想象形式表達了十九世紀資本主義社會中人們精神上的壓力、緊張與矛盾沖突。……《呼嘯山莊》中的男男女女不是大自然的囚徒，他們生活在這個世界里，而且努力去改變它，有時順利，卻總是痛苦的，幾乎不斷遇到困難，不斷犯錯誤。 ——英國評論家 阿諾德·凱特爾 《呼嘯山莊》所寫的愛情，不是那種客廳里的愛情，不是梳妝臺前的愛情，也不是我們女人針線簍子里的愛情，總之它不是掌握在我們手里的愛情，它是一種力量。 ——中國當代作家、茅盾文學獎獲得者 王安憶 ◎世界十大文學名著之一，被譽為“英國文學史上震撼人心的奇特小說”《紐約時報》“世界十大名著”列第四，是英國文學史上ZUI奇特的一本書。所謂奇者：一是文學史上少見，二是作品表現的內容和藝術形式極為獨特。它體現了一種凄厲、恐怖、殘酷、神秘的不尋常的美學風格，被認為是在維多利亞時代小說中“唯一一部沒有被時間的塵土遮沒了光輝”的作品，是19世紀英國文學的代表作之一。 ◎“人間情愛的宏偉史詩”一部關于愛和恨、關于背叛和復仇的史詩級著作。作品中的愛情絕美，它的愛情故事時而纏綿、時而恐怖、時而絕望、時而炙熱，有時像一首浪漫的序曲，有時又像一首疾風驟雨般的贊歌。 ◎小說充滿了反抗精神及對靈魂自由的追求“我愛希斯克利夫，因為他比我更像我自己。他作為另一個我自己，永存于我的心中。”這不只是愛的獨白，這是靈魂的認同。 ◎精裝雙封面，精心排版，值得收藏中文譯文以直譯為主，以方便中英文對照學習，譯文經反復推敲，對忠實理解原著極有助益；在涉及到重要文化習俗之處，添加了精當的注釋，以解疑惑。 ◎同名電影至今仍經久不衰，深受廣大影迷喜愛 故事的背景是一片狂風呼嘯的荒原，故事中的人物保留著大自然的風貌和原始的本性：質樸、粗獷、率真、剛強，感情奔放不羈，舉止瘋狂無度，愛起來不顧一切，恨起來不計后果。全篇充滿了強烈的反壓迫、求自由的斗爭精神，又始終籠罩著離奇、緊張、浪漫的藝術氣氛。由于《呼嘯山莊》的復雜性和多義性，一百多年來，對它的評述和研究卷帙浩繁，歧見紛呈。正如人們評價的那樣，《呼嘯山莊》是一部震撼人心的奇書。 Not?a?soul?knew?to?whom?it?belonged. (隨書附贈“英英中”單詞小冊子，孩子閱讀更順暢；《紐約時報》“世界十大名著”列第四——“人間情愛的宏偉史詩”；文學史上震撼人心的“奇特小說”，“文學中的斯芬克斯”；愛恨·背叛·復仇·毀滅·絕望·重生。)
呼嘯山莊(英文版) 內容簡介
小說敘述了恩蕭和林頓兩家兩代人的感情糾葛這樣一個錯綜復雜、驚心動魄的故事。呼嘯山莊的主人恩蕭先生帶回來一個身份不明的吉卜賽棄兒，取名希斯克利夫，極為寵愛。恩蕭死后，希斯克利夫被恩蕭的兒子辛德雷貶為奴仆，并百般迫害，而原本與他親密無間的凱瑟琳也受外界影響改而愛上畫眉田莊的埃德加，因此憤而出走。三年后，希斯克利夫致富回鄉(xiāng)，而此時凱瑟琳已嫁給埃德加，為此，他進行了瘋狂的報復，奪取辛德雷的家財，故意娶埃德加的妹妹伊莎貝拉進行迫害……內心痛苦不堪的凱瑟琳在分娩中死去。多年后，希斯克利夫又施計使埃德加的女兒小凱瑟琳嫁給了自己即將死去的兒子小林頓。埃德加和小林頓都死了，希斯克利夫很終把埃德加家的財產也據為己有。復仇得逞了，但是他無法從對死去的凱瑟琳的戀情中解脫出來，當他看到被復仇計劃弄得遍體鱗傷的兩個相愛的孩子哈里頓和凱茜時，便想起自己與凱瑟琳的愛情。他放棄了復仇，絕食而死……
呼嘯山莊(英文版) 目錄
Chapter 01 DOWN THE RABBIT-HOLE
Chapter 02 THE POOL OF TEARS
Chapter 03 A CAUCUS-RACE AND A LONG TALE
Chapter 04 THE RABBIT SENDS IN A LITTLE BILL
Chapter 05 ADVICE FROM A CATERPILLAR
Chapter 06 PIG AND PEPPER
Chapter 07 A MAD TEA-PARTY
Chapter 08 THE QUEEN’S CROQUET-GROUND
Chapter 09 THE MOCK TURTLE’S STORY
Chapter 10 THE LOBSTER QUADRILLE
Chapter 11 WHO STOLE THE TARTS?
Chapter 12 ALICE’S EVIDENCE
展開全部
呼嘯山莊(英文版) 節(jié)選
CHAPTER 1 1801.―I have just returned from a visit to my landlord―the solitary neighbour that I shall be troubled with. This is certainly a beautiful country! In all England, I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society. A perfect misanthropist’s heaven: and Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair to divide the desolation between us. A capital fellow! He little imagined how my heart warmed towards him when I beheld his black eyes withdraw so suspiciously under their brows, as I rode up, and when his fingers sheltered themselves, with a jealous resolution, still further in his waistcoat, as I announced my name. “Mr. Heathcliff?” I said. A nod was the answer. “Mr. Lockwood, your new tenant, sir. I do myself the honour of calling as soon as possible after my arrival, to express the hope that I have not inconvenienced you by my perseverance in soliciting the occupation of Thrushcross Grange: I heard yesterday you had had some thoughts―” “Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir,” he interrupted, wincing. “I should not allow any one to inconvenience me, if I could hinder it―walk in!” The “walk in” was uttered with closed teeth, and expressed the sentiment, “Go to the Deuce.” even the gate over which he leant manifested no sympathising movement to the words; and I think that circumstance determined me to accept the invitation: I felt interested in a man who seemed more exaggeratedly reserved than myself. When he saw my horse’s breast fairly pushing the barrier, he did put out his hand to unchain it, and then sullenly preceded me up the causeway, calling, as we entered the court,―“Joseph, take Mr. Lockwood’s horse; and bring up some wine.” “Here we have the whole establishment of domestics, I suppose,” was the reflection suggested by this compound order. “No wonder the grass grows up between the flags, and cattle are the only hedge-cutters.” Joseph was an elderly, nay, an old man: very old, perhaps, though hale and sinewy. “The Lord help us!” he soliloquised in an undertone of peevish displeasure, while relieving me of my horse: looking, meantime, in my face so sourly that I charitably conjectured he must have need of divine aid to digest his dinner, and his pious ejaculation had no reference to my unexpected advent. Wuthering Heights is the name of Mr. Heathcliff’s dwelling. “Wuthering” being a significant provincial adjective, descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy weather. Pure, bracing ventilation they must have up there at all times, indeed: one may guess the power of the north wind blowing over the edge, by the excessive slant of a few stunted firs at the end of the house; and by a range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limbs one way, as if craving alms of the sun. Happily, the architect had foresight to build it strong: the narrow windows are deeply set in the wall, and the corners defended with large jutting stones. Before passing the threshold, I paused to admire a quantity of grotesque carving lavished over the front, and especially about the principal door; above which, among a wilderness of crumbling griffins and shameless little boys, I detected the date “1500,” and the name “Hareton Earnshaw.” I would have made a few comments, and requested a short history of the place from the surly owner; but his attitude at the door appeared to demand my speedy entrance, or complete departure, and I had no desire to aggravate his impatience previous to inspecting the penetralium. One stop brought us into the family sitting-room, without any introductory lobby or passage: they call it here “the house” pre-eminently. It includes kitchen and parlour, generally; but I believe at Wuthering Heights the kitchen is forced to retreat altogether into another quarter: at least I distinguished a chatter of tongues, and a clatter of culinary utensils, deep within; and I observed no signs of roasting, boiling, or baking, about the huge fireplace; nor any glitter of copper saucepans and tin cullenders on the walls. One end, indeed, reflected splendidly both light and heat from ranks of immense pewter dishes, interspersed with silver jugs and tankards, towering row after row, on a vast oak dresser, to the very roof. The latter had never been under-drawn: its entire anatomy lay bare to an inquiring eye, except where a frame of wood laden with oatcakes and clusters of legs of beef, mutton, and ham, concealed it. Above the chimney were sundry villainous old guns, and a couple of horse-pistols: and, by way of ornament, three gaudily-painted canisters disposed along its ledge. The floor was of smooth, white stone; the chairs, high-backed, primitive structures, painted green: one or two heavy black ones lurking in the shade. In an arch under the dresser reposed a huge, liver-coloured bitch pointer, surrounded by a swarm of squealing puppies; and other dogs haunted other recesses. The apartment and furniture would have been nothing extraordinary as belonging to a homely, northern farmer, with a stubborn countenance, and stalwart limbs set out to advantage in knee-breeches and gaiters. Such an individual seated in his armchair, his mug of ale frothing on the round table before him, is to be seen in any circuit of five or six miles among these hills, if you go at the right time after dinner. But Mr. Heathcliff forms a singular contrast to his abode and style of living. He is a dark-skinned gipsy in aspect, in dress and manners a gentleman: that is, as much a gentleman as many a country squire: rather slovenly, perhaps, yet not looking amiss with his negligence, because he has an erect and handsome figure; and rather morose. Possibly, some people might suspect him of a degree of under-bred pride; I have a sympathetic chord within that tells me it is nothing of the sort: I know, by instinct, his reserve springs from an aversion to showy displays of feeling―to manifestations of mutual kindliness. He’ll love and hate equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to be loved or hated again. No, I’m running on too fast: I bestow my own attributes over-liberally on him. Mr. Heathcliff may have entirely dissimilar reasons for keeping his hand out of the way when he meets a would-be acquaintance, to those which actuate me. Let me hope my constitution is almost peculiar: my dear mother used to say I should never have a comfortable home; and only last summer I proved myself perfectly unworthy of one. While enjoying a month of fine weather at the sea-coast, I was thrown into the company of a most fascinating creature: a real goddess in my eyes, as long as she took no notice of me. I “never told my love” vocally; still, if looks have language, the merest idiot might have guessed I was over head and ears: she understood me at last, and looked a return―the sweetest of all imaginable looks. And what did I do? I confess it with shame―shrunk icily into myself, like a snail; at every glance retired colder and farther; till finally the poor innocent was led to doubt her own senses, and, overwhelmed with confusion at her supposed mistake, persuaded her mamma to decamp. By this curious turn of disposition I have gained the reputation of deliberate heartlessness; how undeserved, I alone can appreciate. I took a seat at the end of the hearthstone opposite that towards which my landlord advanced, and filled up an interval of silence by attempting to caress the canine mother, who had left her nursery, and was sneaking wolfishly to the back of my legs, her lip curled up, and her white teeth watering for a snatch. My caress provoked a long, guttural gnarl. “You’d better let the dog alone,” growled Mr. Heathcliff in unison, checking fiercer demonstrations with a punch of his foot. “she’s not accustomed to be spoiled―not kept for a pet.” Then, striding to a side door, he shouted again, “Joseph!”
呼嘯山莊(英文版) 作者簡介
艾米莉?勃朗特（1818—1848），19世紀英國小說家、詩人，英國文學史上著名的“勃朗特三姐妹”之一。她生于貧苦但溢滿書香的牧師之家，生性獨立、剛毅，熱情而又內向，《呼嘯山莊》是她一生中weiyi的一部小說，奠定了她在英國文學史以及世界文學史上的地位。此外，她還創(chuàng)作了193首詩，被認為是英國一位天才型的女作家。 Emily Jane Bronte （1818—1848）, was an English novelist and poet who is best known for her only novel, Wuthering Heights, now considered a classic of English literature. Emily was the third-eldest of the four surviving Bronte siblings, between the youngest Anne and her brother Branwell. She published under the pen name Ellis Bell.
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