英文原版 Dubliners 都柏林人 Signet Classics 英文版 进口英语原版书籍
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库存45件
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作者Joyce, James
出版社Signet Classics (MM)
ISBN9780451530417
出版时间2007-02
装帧其他
定价32元
货号YB-265
上书时间2024-03-08
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书名：Dubliners都柏林人 难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数910 作者：James Joyce詹姆斯·乔伊斯 出版社名称：Signet Classics 出版时间：2007 语种：英文 ISBN：9780451530417 商品尺寸：10.7 x1.7 x 17.2 cm 包装：简装 页数：258 （以实物为准） Dubliners《都柏林人》是意识流文学作品的开山鼻祖、爱尔兰作家、诗人詹姆斯·乔伊斯的短篇小说集，1914年出版，置景于二三十年代的都柏林，截取中下层人民生活的横断面，一个片刻一群人，十五个故事汇集起来，宛若一幅印象主义的绘画，笔触简练，错落成篇，浮现出苍凉世态，遥远、清冷，然而精致，是上上之品。 本版本是Signet Classics推出的简装便携纯英文版，收录15篇短篇小说。另附名家序言和后记，有助于理解作品及作者创作背景。 James Joyce’s groundbreaking collection of short stories about the beloved city of his birth. Perhaps the greatest short story collection in the English language, James Joyce’s Dubliners is both a vivid and unflinching portrait of “dear dirty Dublin” at the turn of the twentieth century and a moral history of a nation and a people whose “golden age” has passed. His richly drawn characters—at once intensely Irish and utterly universal—may forever haunt the reader. In mesmerizing writing that evokes rich imagery, Joyce delves into the heart of the city of his birth, capturing the cadences of Dubliners’ speech in remarkably realistic portrayals of their inner lives. This magnificent collection of fifteen stories reveals Joyce at his most accessible and perhaps most profound. With an Introduction by Edna O’Brien and an Afterword by Malachy McCourt Review: “A genuine storyteller with a unique personal vision.” —Frank O Connor “Joyce’s work is not about the thing it is the thing itself.” —Samuel Beckett Dubliners was completed in 1905, but a series of British and Irish publishers and printers found it offensive and immoral, and it was suppressed. The book finally came out in London in 1914, just as Joyce’sPortrait of the Artist as a Young Man began to appear in the journal Egoist under the auspices of Ezra Pound. The first three stories in Dubliners might be incidents from a draft ofPortrait of the Artist, and many of the characters who figure inUlysses have their first appearance here, but this is not a book of interest only because of its relationship to Joyce’s life and mature work. It is one of the greatest story collections in the English language--an unflinching, brilliant, often tragic portrait of early twentieth-century Dublin. The book, which begins and ends with a death, moves from “stories of my childhood” through tales of public life. Its larger purpose, Joyce said, was as a moral history of Ireland. 詹姆斯·乔伊斯（1882—1941），爱尔兰小说家，生于都柏林。父亲是税吏。乔伊斯从小受天主教教育，曾在都柏林大学学习哲学和语言，也曾在巴黎学医。他除短暂时间住在爱尔兰外，大部分时间在瑞士、意大利和法国度过。1920年定居巴黎，专门从事小说创作。詹姆斯·乔伊斯是二十世纪最伟大的作家之一，他的作品及“意识流”思想对全世界产生了巨大的影响。除《青年艺术家的画像》《尤利西斯》和《芬尼根守夜人》三部长篇外，还有短篇小说集《都柏林人》及大量诗作、随笔和剧本。 Born in Dublin, Ireland, James Joyce (1882–1941) studied philosophy and languages at the Dublin College of the Royal University. He left Ireland in 1902 and went to Paris, but upon learning that his mother was dying, he returned to Dublin in 1903. After his mother’s death, Joyce taught school in Dublin and met Nora Barnacle, the woman who would be his lifelong companion. Joyce and Nora left Ireland in 1904 and traveled to Trieste, where Joyce taught languages at the Berlitz School. An attack of rheumatic fever in 1907 caused his vision to worsen throughout his life. Apart from one trip back to Dublin in 1912, Joyce spent the rest of his life on the Continent. Wealthy patrons subsidized his writing, and Joyce became the most influential novelist of the twentieth century. His writings include Chamber Music (1907), Dubliners (1914), A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916), Exiles (1918), Ulysses (1922), Pomes Penyeach (1927), andFinnegans Wake (1939). Edna O’Brien is the author of The Love Object, A Scandalous Woman, A Rose in the Heart, A Fanatic Heart, The Country Girls Trilogy, The High Road, and Lantern Slides. Irish born, she lives in London. Malachy McCourt was born in Brooklyn and from the age of three was raised in Limerick, Ireland. He left school at the age of thirteen to begin work in Ireland and England as a laborer. He returned to the U.S. at twenty and worked as a longshoreman and dishwasher until he became an actor, appearing in numerous Broadway and off-Broadway plays, soap operas, films, and TV shows, including the HBO prison series, Oz, as well as hosting a radio talk show and writing a newspaper column. Among his numerous books are Singing My Him Song, Danny Boy, Voices of Ireland, Malachy McCourt’s History of Ireland, and the New York Times bestselling memoir A Monk Swimming. Introduction序 The Sisters 姊妹们 An Encounter 一次遭遇 Araby 阿拉比 Eveline 伊芙琳 After The Race 赛车以后 Two Gallants 两个流浪汉 The Boarding House 公寓 A Little Cloud 一小片阴云 Counterparts 何其相似 Clay 泥土 A Painful Case 痛苦的事件 Ivy Day In The Committee Room 委员会办公室里的常青节 A Mother 母亲 Grace 圣恩 The Dead死者 Afterword后记 Selected Bibliography精选参考书目 A Note on the Text文本注释 THE SISTERS There was no hope for him this time: it was the third stroke. Night after night I had passed the house (it was vacation time) and studied the lighted square of window: and night after night I had found it lighted in the same way, faintly and evenly. If he was dead, I thought, I would see the reflection of candles on the darkened blind for I knew that two candles must be set at the head of a corpse. He had often said to me: “I am not long for this world,” and I had thought his words idle. Now I knew they were true. Every night as I gazed up at the window I said softly to myself the word paralysis. It had always sounded strangely in my ears, like the word gnomon in the Euclid and the word simony in the Catechism. But now it sounded to me like the name of some maleficent and sinful being. It filled me with fear, and yet I longed to be nearer to it and to look upon its deadly work. Old Cotter was sitting at the fire, smoking, when I came downstairs to supper. While my aunt was ladling out my stirabout he said, as if returning to some former remark of his: “No, I wouldn’t say he was exactly… but there was something queer . . . there was something uncanny about him. I’ll tell you my opinion…” He began to puff at his pipe, no doubt arranging his opinion in his mind. Tiresome old fool! When we knew him first he used to be rather interesting, talking of faints and worms; but I soon grew tired of him and his endless stories about the distillery. “I have my own theory about it,” he said. “I think it was one of those . . . peculiar cases. . . . But it’s hard to say. . . .” He began to puff again at his pipe without giving us his theory. My uncle saw me staring and said to me: “Well, so your old friend is gone, you’ll be sorry to hear.” “Who?” said I. “Father Flynn.” “Is he dead?” “Mr. Cotter here has just told us. He was passing by the house.” I knew that I was under observation so I continued eating as if the news had not interested me. My uncle explained to old Cotter. “The youngster and he were great friends. The old chap taught him a great deal, mind you; and they say he had a great wish for him.” “God have mercy on his soul,” said my aunt piously. Old Cotter looked at me for a while. I felt that his little beady black eyes were examining me but I would not satisfy him by looking up from my plate. He returned to his pipe and finally spat rudely into the grate. “I wouldn’t like children of mine,” he said, “to have too much to say to a man like that.” “How do you mean, Mr. Cotter?” asked my aunt. “What I mean is,” said old Cotter, “it’s bad for children. My idea is: let a young lad run about and play with young lads of his own age and not be… Am I right, Jack?” “That’s my principle, too,” said my uncle. “Let him learn to box his corner. That’s what I’m always saying to that Rosicrucian there: take exercise. Why, when I was a nipper every morning of my life I had a cold bath, winter and summer. And that’s what stands to me now. Education is all very fine and large… Mr. Cotter might take a pick of that leg of mutton,” he added to my aunt. “No, no, not for me,” said old Cotter. My aunt brought the dish from the safe and put it on the table. “But why do you think it’s not good for children, Mr. Cotter?” she asked. “It’s bad for children,” said old Cotter, “because their minds are so impressionable. When children see things like that, you know, it has an effect...” I crammed my mouth with stirabout for fear I might give utterance to my anger. Tiresome old red-nosed imbecile! It was late when I fell asleep. Though I was angry with old Cotter for alluding to me as a child, I puzzled my head to extract meaning from his unfinished sentences. In the dark of my room I imagined that I saw again the heavy grey face of the paralytic. I drew the blankets over my head and tried to think of Christmas. But the grey face still followed me. It murmured; and I understood that it desired to confess something. I felt my soul receding into some pleasant and vicious region; and there again I found it waiting for me. It began to confess to me in a murmuring voice and I wondered why it smiled continually and why the lips were so moist with spittle. But then I remembered that it had died of paralysis and I felt that I too was smiling feebly as if to absolve the simoniac of his sin. 1234567
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