Madame Bovary 包法利夫人 [平裝] 下載 mobi epub pdf 電子書 2025

簡體網頁||繁體網頁

☆☆☆☆☆

Gustave Flaubert（古斯塔夫·福樓拜） 著，Leo Bersani（利奧·貝爾薩尼） 繪，Lowell Bair 譯

圖書標籤:

• 經典文學
• 法國文學
• 現實主義
• 愛情
• 婚姻
• 悲劇
• 社會批判
• 女性
• 19世紀文學
• 小說

齣版社： Random House

ISBN：9780553213416

版次：1

商品編碼：19017103

包裝：平裝

齣版時間：1982-06-01

頁數：512

正文語種：英文

商品尺寸：17.27x10.67x2.03cm;0.11kg

內容簡介

This exquisite novel tells the story of one of the most compelling heroines in modern literature--Emma Bovary. Unhappily married to a devoted, clumsy provincial doctor, Emma revolts against the ordinariness of her life by pursuing voluptuous dreams of ecstasy and love. But her sensuous and sentimental desires lead her only to suffering corruption and downfall. A brilliant psychological portrait, Madame Bovary searingly depicts the human mind in search of transcendence. Who is Madame Bovary? Flaubert's answer to this question was superb: "Madame Bovary, c'est moi." Acclaimed as a masterpiece upon its publication in 1857, the work catapulted Flaubert to the ranks of the world's greatest novelists. This volume, with its fine translation by Lowell Bair, a perceptive introduction by Leo Bersani, and a complete supplement of essays and critical comments, is the indispensable Madame Bovary.

作者簡介

The great French novelist was born in Rouen in 1821, son of a distinguished surgeon. He studied law briefly, but in 1844 he was struck with epilepsy–it was the first of a series of violent fits that filled Flaubert's life with apprehension and drove him to lead a hermit's life. Having been attracted to literature at an early age, he soon turned his entire attention to writing. His first novel, Madame Bovary, won instant fame upon his publication in 1857: Flaubert was sued for "immorality," but was later acquitted.

An avid traveler, his fundamentally romantic nature reveling in the exotic, Flaubert went to Tunisia to research his second novel, Salammbo (1862). Both Salammbo and The Sentimental Education (1869) were poorly received, and Flaubert's genius was not publicly recognized until his masterful Three Tales (1877). Among his literary peers, his reputation was extraordinary, and he formed lasting friendships with Turgenev, George Sand, and the Goncourt brothers.

Despite his reputation as a master of realists, he was not fundamentally a realistic novelist. Flaubert's aim was to achieve a rigidly objective form of art, presented in the most perfect form. His obsession with his craft is legendary: he could work seven hours a day, many days on end, on a single page, trying to attune his style to his ideal of balanced harmony, seeking always le mot juste.

In 1875 Flaubert sacrificed his modest fortune to help his niece, Caroline, and as a result his last years were marked by financial worry and bitter isolation. He died suddenly in May, 1880, leaving his last work, Bouvard and Pécuchet unfinished.

精彩書評

"Madame Bovary is like the railroad stations erected in its epoch: graceful, even floral, but cast of iron."
——John Updike

精彩書摘

Part One

We were in study hall when the headmaster walked in, followed by a new boy not wearing a school uniform, and by a janitor carrying a large desk. Those who were sleeping awoke, and we all stood up as though interrupting our work.

The headmaster motioned us to sit down, then turned to the teacher and said softly, "Monsieur Roger, I'm placing this pupil in your care. He'll begin in the eighth grade, but if his work and conduct are good enough, he'll be promoted to where he ought to be at his age."

The newcomer hung back in the corner behind the door, so that we could hardly see him. He was a country boy of about fifteen, taller than any of us. He wore his hair cut straight across the forehead, like a cantor in a village church, and he had a gentle, bewildered look. Although his shoulders were not broad, his green jacket with black buttons was apparently too tight under the arms, and the slits of its cuffs revealed red wrists accustomed to being bare. His legs, sheathed in blue stockings, protruded from his yellowish trousers, which were pulled up tight by a pair of suspenders. He wore heavy, unpolished, hobnailed shoes.

We began to recite our lessons. He concentrated all his attention on them, as though listening to a sermon, not daring even to cross his legs or lean on his elbow, and when the bell rang at two o'clock the teacher had to tell him to line up with the rest of us.

When we entered a classroom we always tossed our caps on the floor, to free our hands; as soon as we crossed the threshold we would throw them under the bench so hard that they struck the wall and raised a cloud of dust; this was "the way it should be done."

But the new boy either failed to notice this maneuver or was too shy to perform it himself, for he was still holding his cap on his lap at the end of the prayer. It was a head-gear of composite nature, combining elements of the busby, the lancer cap, the round hat, the otter-skin cap and the cotton nightcap--one of those wretched things whose mute ugliness has great depths of expression, like an idiot's face. Egg-shaped and stiffened by whalebone, it began with three rounded bands, followed by alternating diamond-shaped patches of velvet and rabbit fur separated by a red stripe, and finally there was a kind of bag terminating in a cardboard-lined polygon covered with complicated braid. A network of gold wire was attached to the top of this polygon by a long, extremely thin cord, forming a kind of tassel. The cap was new; its visor was shiny.

"Stand up," said the teacher.

He stood up; his cap fell. The whole class began to laugh.

He bent down and picked it up. A boy beside him knocked it down again with his elbow; he picked it up once again.

"Will you please put your helmet away?" said the teacher, a witty man.

A loud burst of laughter from the other pupils threw the poor boy into such a state of confusion that he did not know whether to hold his cap in his hand, leave it on the floor or put it on his head. He sat down again and put it back on his lap.

"Stand up," said the teacher, "and tell me your name."

The new boy mumbled something unintelligible.

"Say it again!"

The same mumbled syllables came from his lips again, drowned out by the jeers of the class.

"Louder!" cried the teacher. "Louder!"

With desperate determination the new boy opened his enormous mouth and, as though calling someone, shouted this word at the top of his lungs: "Charbovari!"

This instantly touched off an uproar which rose in a crescendo of shrill exclamations, shrieks, barks, stamping of feet and repeated shouts of "Charbovari! Charbovari!" Then it subsided into isolated notes, but it was a long time before it died down completely; it kept coming back to life in fits and starts along a row of desks where a stifled laugh would occasionally explode like a half-spent firecracker.

A shower of penalties gradually restored order in the classroom, however, and the teacher, having managed to understand Charles Bovary's name after making him repeat it, spell it out and read it to him, immediately ordered the poor devil to sit on the dunce's seat at the foot of the rostrum. He began to walk over to it, then stopped short.

"What are you looking for?" asked the teacher.

"My ca--" the new boy said timidly, glancing around uneasily."

The whole class will copy five hundred lines!" Like Neptune's "Quos ego" in the Aeneid, this furious exclamation checked the outbreak of a new storm. "Keep quiet!" continued the teacher indignantly, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief he had taken from his toque. "As for you," he said to the new boy, "you will write out 'Ridiculus sum' twenty times in all tenses." He added, in a gentler tone, "Don't worry, you'll find your cap: it hasn't been stolen."

Everything became calm again. Heads bent over notebooks, and for the next two hours the new boy's conduct was exemplary, despite the spitballs, shot from the nib of a pen, that occasionally splattered against his face. He merely wiped himself with his hand each time this happened, then continued to sit motionless, with his eyes lowered.

That evening, in study hall, he took sleeveguards from his desk, put his things in order and carefully ruled his paper. We saw him working conscientiously, looking up all the words in the dictionary and taking great pains with everything he did. It was no doubt because of this display of effort that he was not placed in a lower grade, for, while he had a passable knowledge of grammatical rules, his style was without elegance. He had begun to study Latin with his village priest, since his parents, to save money, had postponed sending him off to school as long as possible.

His father, Monsieur Charles-Denis-Bartholomé Bovary, had once been an assistant surgeon in the army. Forced to leave the service in 1812 for corrupt practices with regard to conscription, he had taken advantage of his masculine charms to pick up a dowry of sixty thousand francs being offered to him in the person of a hosier's daughter who had fallen in love with his appearance. He was a handsome, boastful man who liked to rattle his spurs; his side whiskers joined his mustache, his fingers were always adorned with rings and he wore bright-colored clothes. He had the look of a pimp and the affable exuberance of a traveling salesman. He lived on his wife's money for the first two or three years of their marriage, eating well, getting up late, smoking big porcelain pipes, staying out every night to see a show and spending a great deal of time in cafés. His father-in-law died and left very little; indignant at this, he "went into the textile business" and lost some money, then he moved to the country, where he intended to "build up a going concern." But since he knew little more about farming than he did about calico, since he rode his horses instead of sending them off to work in the fields, drank his bottled cider instead of selling it, ate the finest poultry in his barnyard and greased his hunting shoes with the fat of his pigs, he soon realized that he would do well to give up all thought of business endeavor.

So for two hundred francs a year he rented a residence that was half farm and half gentleman's estate, on the border between Picardy and the Caux region of Normandy. Melancholy, consumed with regrets, cursing heaven, envious of everyone, he withdrew into seclusion at the age of forty-five, disgusted with mankind, he said, and resolved to live in peace.

His wife had been mad about him in the beginning; she had loved him with a boundless servility that made him even more indifferent to her. She had been vivacious, expansive and brimming over with affection in her youth, but as she grew older she became peevish, nagging and nervous, like sour wine turning to vinegar. She had suffered so much at first without complaining, watching him run after every village strumpet in sight and having him come home to her every night, satiated and stinking of alcohol, after carousing in a score of ill-famed establishments! Then her pride rebelled; she withdrew into herself, swallowing her rage with a mute stoicism which she maintained until her death. She was always busy with domestic and financial matters. She was constantly going to see lawyers or the judge, remembering when notes were due and obtaining renewals; and at home she spent all her time ironing, sewing, washing, supervising the workmen and settling the itemized bills they presented to her, while Monsieur, totally unconcerned with everything and continually sinking into a sullen drowsiness from which he roused himself only to make disagreeable remarks to her, sat smoking beside the fire and spitting into the ashes.

When she had a child it had to be placed in the care of a wet-nurse. The boy was pampered like a prince when he came back to live with them. His mother fed him on jam and candied fruit; his father let him run barefoot and even carried his philosophical pretensions to the point of saying that he might as well go naked, like a young animal. In opposition to his wife's maternal tendencies, he had a certain virile ideal of childhood, and he tried to form his son in accordance with it. He wanted him to be raised harshly, Spartan-style, in order to give him a sturdy constitution. He sent him to bed without a fire, taught him to take hearty swigs of rum and to jeer at religious processions. But, placid by nature, the child showed little response to his father's efforts. His mother kept him tied to her apron-strings; she cut out cardboard figures for him, told him stories and talked to him in endless monologues full of melancholy gaiety and wheedling chatter. In the isolation of her life she transferred all her shattered, abandoned ambitions to her child. She dreamed of high positions, she saw him already grown...

《簡·愛》 作者：夏洛蒂·勃朗特 (Charlotte Brontë) 譯者： （根據不同版本，此處可填入具體譯者姓名，例如：張友鶴、王際真等） 齣版社： （根據不同版本，此處可填入具體齣版社，例如：人民文學齣版社、上海譯文齣版社等） 裝幀： 精裝/平裝（根據實際情況填寫） --- 捲首語：關於心靈的疆域與自由的渴望 在文學的廣袤原野上，總有一些作品以其穿透人心的力量，超越時代的界限，成為我們審視自我、理解人性的永恒鏡鑒。《簡·愛》便是這樣一部不朽的傑作。它不僅僅是一個維多利亞時代女性的成長故事，更是一麯對獨立、尊嚴、以及對真摯情感不懈追求的激昂贊歌。夏洛蒂·勃朗特以其敏銳的洞察力和熾熱的情感，塑造瞭一個看似平凡卻蘊含著非凡精神力量的女性形象——簡·愛。她的故事，是對所有渴望掙脫束縛、定義自身價值的靈魂的深刻呼喚。 第一部分：荊棘中的萌芽——童年的陰影與精神的覺醒 故事的開端，我們將跟隨簡·愛，走進英國十九世紀上半葉那個等級森嚴、僞善盛行的社會。簡·愛，一個孤苦無依的孤兒，寄居在裏德舅媽傢。在那個充滿冷眼、刻薄與壓迫的環境中，她早早地品嘗瞭寄人籬下的辛酸與不公。裏德夫人對她的偏愛自己的親生子女，以及錶兄約翰·裏德對她的霸淩，構成瞭她童年世界裏的第一道陰影。 年幼的簡·愛，雖然身形瘦弱，卻擁有著一顆燃燒的、追求平等的靈魂。她不甘心被視為“沒有靈魂的玩偶”，勇敢地反抗約翰的暴行，即便因此遭受嚴厲的懲罰，被禁閉在“紅屋”——那個充滿幽靈傳說與死亡氣息的房間裏——她也從未屈服。在紅屋的恐懼中，她迎來瞭人生的第一個轉摺點：對逝去舅父的懷念與對逝者靈魂的呼喚，使她第一次意識到，即使在最絕望的處境中，精神的力量也能超越物質的禁錮。 這一階段的描寫，細膩入微地展現瞭簡·愛早慧、敏感且堅韌的性格底色。她對公平的渴望，對愛與歸屬感的渴求，如同荒原上的嫩芽，在逆境中頑強地嚮上生長。 第二部分：教育的熔爐——洛伍德學校的洗禮 為瞭擺脫裏德傢的桎梏，簡·愛被送往瞭教會創辦的洛伍德慈善學校。這所學校，對外宣稱是培養虔誠的教士，實則是一個管理鬆散、物資匱乏、充滿宗教狂熱與體罰的悲慘之地。在那裏，簡·愛結識瞭第一位真正的朋友——海倫·彭斯。 海倫·彭斯是一個具有早期基督教美德的典範，她寬容、順從、將一切苦難視為通往天堂的試煉。她與簡·愛形成瞭鮮明的對比：簡·愛是反抗者，是要求現實公平的鬥士；海倫是忍耐者，是追求精神解脫的信徒。海倫的哲學，雖然在某種程度上安撫瞭簡·愛躁動不安的心靈，但她最終因肺病早逝，則標誌著簡·愛開始意識到，僅僅依靠信仰的慰藉是遠遠不夠的，人必須在現世中為自己爭取尊嚴。 洛伍德的校長布洛赫赫斯特先生的虛僞，以及對學生們的苛刻，進一步激發瞭簡·愛對虛僞和暴政的厭惡。在洛伍德度過瞭八年的時光——六年學生，兩年助教——簡·愛完成瞭基礎的知識積纍，更重要的是，她錘煉瞭獨立思考的能力，為她未來的人生挑戰做好瞭精神上的準備。 第三部分：心靈的碰撞——荊棘坡莊園的邂逅 十八歲時，渴望改變命運的簡·愛，離開瞭洛伍德，來到瞭一座宏偉而又充滿神秘色彩的莊園——荊棘坡（Thornfield Hall）。她受聘成為愛德華·費爾法剋斯·羅切斯特先生（Mr. Edward Fairfax Rochester）的傢庭教師，負責教導他那活潑卻缺乏管教的法裔養女阿黛爾·瓦朗斯。 荊棘坡，這個名字本身就預示著這座莊園中隱藏的痛苦與激情。羅切斯特先生，一個風度翩翩，卻又帶著幾分粗獷、憤世嫉俗、飽經風霜的貴族，成為瞭簡·愛生命中最重要的謎團與引力中心。 兩人的相遇充滿瞭戲劇性。簡愛以其樸實無華卻又充滿智慧的對話，打破瞭羅切斯特先生慣常的傲慢與審視，使他第一次看到瞭一個真正平等的心靈。羅切斯特被簡·愛的真誠、敏銳的觀察力和她那顆“小小的、堅硬的靈魂”深深吸引。而簡·愛，也無可救藥地陷入瞭對這位復雜、富有魅力的男人的愛戀之中。她愛他那不羈的靈魂，愛他將她視為一個完整的人，而非僅僅是一個僕人或傢庭教師。 在荊棘坡的日子裏，簡·愛體驗到瞭真正的歸屬感和被珍視的感覺。然而，這座莊園裏彌漫著一種揮之不去的陰影：夜晚的怪笑聲、不明原因的火災，以及羅切斯特先生刻意隱瞞的秘密，都像一根根刺，預示著這段關係背後潛藏的巨大危機。 第四部分：愛情的考驗——真相的揭露與精神的流亡 在簡愛與羅切斯特的感情日益深厚，甚至到瞭談婚論嫁的地步時，那個一直被壓抑的秘密終於如同火山爆發般噴湧而齣。在婚禮之上，一位名叫布朗頓·梅森的律師揭露瞭一個驚人的事實：羅切斯特先生早已有一位閤法的妻子——伯莎·梅森（Bertha Mason），一個被瘋癲摺磨的加勒比海富商的女兒，她被囚禁在荊棘坡頂樓的密室中。 這一刻，簡·愛的世界徹底崩塌。她對愛情的信仰，對婚姻的承諾，以及她對羅切斯特全部的信任，在赤裸的現實麵前化為烏有。她深愛的男人，竟是她人生的一個巨大的謊言。 麵對痛苦的選擇，簡·愛展現瞭她性格中最光輝的一麵。她深愛羅切斯特，願意忍受屈辱，甚至願意做他的情婦，隻為留在他的身邊。然而，她內心深處對道德、自尊和獨立人格的堅守，讓她選擇瞭更艱難的道路：離開。她拒絕以犧牲尊嚴為代價來換取物質的保障和暫時的陪伴。她寜願選擇貧窮、孤獨和飢餓，也不願成為一個被道德譴責的“墮落女人”。 簡·愛毅然決然地逃離瞭荊棘坡，帶著幾乎被榨乾的體力與精神，流落到廣袤的荒野。 第五部分：自我救贖與真正的平等——聖約翰的考驗與歸宿 逃亡中的簡·愛經曆瞭人生的最低榖：飢餓、寒冷、被世人拒絕。她差點被街邊的乞丐和冷漠的世人吞噬。最終，她被善良的聖約翰·裏弗斯（St. John Rivers）一傢所救助。 聖約翰，一位年輕有為、外錶英俊卻內心冰冷、充滿宗教狂熱的傳教士，是簡·愛遇到的另一種極端人格。他欣賞簡·愛的智慧和能力，但卻試圖將她塑造成實現自己“神聖使命”的工具。他嚮簡·愛求婚，不是基於愛情，而是基於“實用性”和“使命感”。 麵對聖約翰近乎無情的“安排”，簡·愛再次陷入掙紮。聖約翰的提議，是對她精神自由的另一種形式的囚禁——是精神上的“紅屋”。她意識到，嫁給聖約翰，意味著將自己的心與靈魂徹底冰封，終生為他人的理想而活。 就在簡·愛幾乎要屈服於聖約翰安排的命運時，她聽到瞭羅切斯特發自靈魂深處的呼喚——“簡！我的愛人！”。這超越瞭時空的召喚，堅定瞭她迴歸的決心。她發現，自己與羅切斯特在命運的巨變中，反而達到瞭真正的平等。 簡·愛繼承瞭她從未謀麵的親戚留下的豐厚遺産，獲得瞭經濟獨立。她重返荊棘坡，卻發現莊園已毀於大火，羅切斯特也因此雙目失明，並失去瞭一隻手。 尾聲：殘缺中的圓滿 當簡愛再次見到羅切斯特時，他已不再是那個傲慢、神秘的貴族，而是一個遭受重創、謙卑且依賴她的受難者。兩人的地位終於在命運的安排下實現瞭真正的對等：簡愛在經濟上獨立，在精神上成熟；羅切斯特在身體上殘缺，在靈魂上懺悔。 他們最終結閤，共同麵對未來。他們的結閤，建立在相互理解、無條件的愛與接受的基礎之上。夏洛蒂·勃朗特通過簡愛，宣告瞭一種全新的女性價值：獨立自主的人格，纔是獲得真愛的先決條件。 簡愛的故事，是關於一個“微不足道”的女性，如何用她的正直、她的勇氣和她那顆不屈的靈魂，最終掌控瞭自己的命運，並找到瞭那份“靈魂的安寜”的史詩。 --- 核心主題與文學價值 《簡·愛》以第一人稱敘事手法，構建瞭一個極具心理深度的內心世界。小說大膽地探討瞭以下主題： 1. 女性的獨立與自尊： 小說對維多利亞時代女性的從屬地位提齣瞭尖銳的挑戰，強調女性不僅需要愛情，更需要工作、教育和經濟上的獨立。 2. 階級與偏見： 簡愛作為“無産者”和“醜小鴨”，始終與當時的社會等級製度進行抗爭。 3. 激情與理性的平衡： 簡愛在羅切斯特的熱烈與聖約翰的冷酷之間尋找平衡，最終找到瞭將激情與道德融為一體的“適中之道”。 4. 精神的自由： 無論身處紅屋、洛伍德還是被幽禁的頂樓，簡愛都將維護內心的自由和完整性置於首位。 這部作品，以其強烈的浪漫主義色彩和深刻的現實主義批判，成為英格蘭文學史上不朽的豐碑。它給予一代又一代的讀者，在麵對生活的不公與苦難時，堅守自我、勇敢去愛的力量。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

我必須承認，這本書的某些部分讀起來是相當壓抑的，它毫不留情地撕開瞭“美好生活”的遮羞布，展現瞭幻想與現實之間那道無法逾越的鴻溝。作者在塑造人物群像方麵也做得非常齣色，即便是那些配角，也個個栩栩如生，各有各的鮮明特點，絕非工具人般的存在。比如那個鄉紳，他身上那種小市民的精明和固執，簡直是活靈活現；再比如那個老教士，他的迂腐和善良交織齣的復雜性，也令人印象深刻。這種全景式的描繪，讓整個故事發生的環境充滿瞭真實感和曆史厚重感。它不像許多浪漫主義作品那樣提供心靈的慰藉，反而更像一把手術刀，冷靜地剖開人物的靈魂，讓你直麵人性的弱點和時代的局限。因此，這本書更適閤在心境相對平和、願意深入思考時去閱讀，否則很容易被其中滲透齣的悲涼氣氛所裹挾。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

說實話，這本書的閱讀體驗是充滿矛盾的，它既有古典小說的宏大敘事結構，又時不時地流露齣一種現代主義先聲的敏銳和焦慮。初讀時，我曾因為節奏的緩慢而略感不耐煩，尤其是那些關於日常生活瑣事的詳盡記錄，簡直讓人懷疑作者是不是有意在拖遝情節。然而，隨著故事的深入，我逐漸意識到，正是這些看似瑣碎的日常，構建瞭人物命運的基石，為後來的爆發積蓄瞭足夠的力量。作者極其擅長使用象徵和暗示，很多景物描寫或偶然的對話，都在不經意間預示著未來的轉摺點，這讓重讀時有一種“一切早有注定”的宿命感。更值得稱道的是其對社會階層的觀察，那種冷峻而又精準的描摹，揭示瞭上流社會的虛僞與庸俗，以及底層掙紮的無望，體現齣一種超越時代的批判精神。這種復雜的層次感，使得每一次閱讀都會有新的發現，絕對不是一次性消費品。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

從文學形式的角度來看，這部作品的結構安排堪稱精妙。它摒棄瞭傳統敘事中那種清晰明確的道德說教，轉而采用一種更加開放、更具張力的敘事模式。全書的節奏變化非常微妙，有時是急促的、充滿激情的爆發，有時又是綿長得近乎催眠的平靜，這種張弛有度的處理，完美地契閤瞭主角內心世界的起伏不定。尤其贊賞作者對感官細節的捕捉，無論是色彩的運用，還是對聲音、氣味的描繪，都極為考究，極大地增強瞭文本的畫麵感和感染力。我常常在閱讀時，會不自覺地停下來，想象作者是如何在那個年代，用有限的工具和語言，構建齣如此宏大而又私密的心靈景觀的。這種藝術手法上的成熟度，即便是放在今天的文學標準來看，也依然是鳳毛麟角，值得反復推敲和學習。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這本書之所以能經久不衰，我認為關鍵在於它對“渴望”這一主題的探討達到瞭極高的深度。它講述的遠不止是一個女人的故事，而是關於所有試圖超越自身局限、追逐虛幻美好的靈魂的寓言。主角的悲劇不在於她做瞭什麼錯事，而在於她從一開始就將幸福寄托在瞭錯誤的對象和錯誤的環境之上，她對“他者”的想象，永遠比現實要光鮮亮麗得多。作者沒有給予任何廉價的救贖或圓滿的結局，而是讓角色沉淪在自己編織的幻夢破滅的痛苦之中，這使得結局的力量顯得格外沉重和真實。每次閤上書頁，腦海中都會留下一個揮之不去的念頭：我們是否也活在自己構建的某種“波伏娃式”的幻象之中？這種強烈的反思性，纔是這部經典文學作品真正的魅力所在。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這部作品的文字功底實在令人驚嘆，作者的敘事技巧高超得如同一個經驗豐富的魔術師，將讀者牢牢地吸引進故事的每一個細枝末節之中。光是開篇對那個小鎮環境的描繪，就足夠讓人身臨其境，仿佛能聞到空氣中彌漫的塵土和濕氣，感受到那種沉悶而又帶著一絲田園牧歌式的虛假平靜。我尤其欣賞他對人物內心世界的剖析，那種細緻入微的心理描寫，簡直是教科書級彆的範本。主角的行為動機，即便是那些看似荒謬或不閤邏輯的決定，在作者的筆下也變得閤情閤理，讓人在譴責之餘，又不得不對其境遇産生深深的共鳴。這種對人性的深刻洞察力，使得整本書不僅僅是一部簡單的愛情悲劇，更像是一麵映照社會、時代乃至人類永恒睏境的鏡子。閱讀的過程更像是一場漫長而又引人入勝的對話，讀者需要不斷地跟隨作者的思路進行思考和判斷，絕不是可以囫圇吞棗一目十行讀完的作品。那些看似冗長卻蘊含深意的段落，需要反復咀嚼纔能體會到其中蘊含的巨大信息量和藝術張力。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

英文就算瞭，關鍵是紙張不是一般的惡心

評分☆☆☆☆☆

英文就算瞭，關鍵是紙張不是一般的惡心

評分☆☆☆☆☆

名著英文版

評分☆☆☆☆☆

書還行，看看英譯本，有收獲吧

評分☆☆☆☆☆

英譯版本，買來看看，品相好

評分☆☆☆☆☆

英文就算瞭，關鍵是紙張不是一般的惡心

評分☆☆☆☆☆

英譯版本，買來看看，品相好

評分☆☆☆☆☆

剛買，隻看瞭幾頁，沒有那種紙質泛黃的感覺

評分☆☆☆☆☆

雖然美國小說都是迴收紙 但看著還是很舒服 很喜歡