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欧文随笔(中文导读英文版)pdf/doc/txt格式电子书下载

书名:欧文随笔(中文导读英文版)pdf/doc/txt格式电子书下载

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作者:(美)欧文(Irving,W.),王勋,纪飞、等译

出版社:清华大学出版社

出版时间:2012-05-01

书籍编号:30143322

ISBN:9787302282624

正文语种:中英对照

字数:678509

版次:1

所属分类:外语学习-英语读物

全书内容:

欧文随笔(中文导读英文版)


(美)欧文(Irving,W.) 著


王勋 纪飞 等 编译


清华大学出版社

前言


华盛顿·欧文(Washington Irving,1783—1859),19世纪美国著名的散文家、小说家,被誉为“美国文学之父”。


1783年4月3日,欧文出生在纽约的一个富商家庭。他自小就喜欢阅读、写作与旅游,曾在律师事务所、贸易公司和大使馆工作过,但他最喜欢的还是文学创作。欧文从少年时代起就喜爱阅读英国作家司各特、拜仑和彭斯等人的作品,也喜欢看像《鲁滨逊漂流记》、《格列佛游记》这种历险故事。一生曾三度旅居欧洲,在英国、法国、德国、意大利、西班牙等国家度过了17年,这些经历为他日后的创作积累了丰富的素材。


1802年,欧文在《早晨纪事报》上发表了几篇书信体散文,崭露头角。1809年,欧文出版了自己的第一部小说《纽约外史》,该作品使他成为纽约文坛风靡一时的人物。1819年,欧文在旅欧期间陆续发表许多散文、随笔和故事,并于1820年结集为《欧文随笔》出版,该作品在欧洲和美国文学界引起了轰动,使他成为第一个获得国际声誉的美国作家,同时也奠定了欧文在美国文学史上的地位。之后,欧文陆续出版了《旅客谈》、《阿尔罕伯拉》、《华盛顿传》、《哥伦布传》、《攻克格拉纳达》、《庄园见闻录》、《草原游记》和《哥尔德斯密斯传》等作品。1859年11月28日,欧文与世长辞,美国人民为了纪念这位在文学方面做出突出贡献的作家,在纽约下半旗致哀,而欧文的许多优秀作品则被人们传诵至今,成为珍贵的文学遗产。


在欧文的众多作品中,《欧文随笔》是他的代表作。该书被称为“美国富有想象力的第一部真正杰作”,“开创了它所属的那个民族文学的新时代”,是19世纪美国文学著作中最受读者欢迎的书籍。在当代美国及世界上其他国家和地区,该书是拥有最多读者的文学经典。迄今为止,该书已被译成许多国家的文字,其版本不计其数,拥有世界各地无数的忠实读者。


在中国,《欧文随笔》同样是广大读者喜爱的世界经典文学作品之一,该作品的版本数量也有数十个。基于这个原因,我们决定编译该作品,并采用中文导读英文版的形式出版。在中文导读中,我们尽力使其贴近原作的精髓,也尽可能保留原作的叙述主线。我们希望能够编出为当代中国读者所喜爱的经典读本。读者在阅读英文文本之前,可以先阅读中文导读内容,这样有利于了解故事背景,从而加快阅读速度。我们相信,该经典著作的引进对加强当代中国读者,特别是青少年读者的科学素养和人文修养是非常有帮助的。


本书主要内容由王勋、纪飞编译。参加本书故事素材搜集整理及编译工作的还有郑佳、刘乃亚、赵雪、熊金玉、李丽秀、熊红华、王婷婷、孟宪行、胡国平、李晓红、贡东兴、陈楠、邵舒丽、冯洁、王业伟、徐鑫、王晓旭、周丽萍、熊建国、徐平国、肖洁、王小红等。限于我们的科学、人文素养和英语水平,书中难免会有不当之处,衷心希望读者朋友批评指正。

第一章 作者自述 Chapter 1 The Author\'s Account of Himself
导读
正如荷马所言,周游世界的旅行者必须入乡随俗,改变在故乡养成的习惯,好比蜗牛离壳之后,要像蛤蟆一样为自己另造巢穴。
——约翰·里里《尤菲思》
我从幼年开始就喜爱探索新鲜的美景与风俗,少年时在故乡一带的旅行常常使父母为我担心,但这些经历令我见识大增。随着年龄的增长,我更加向往远方的海阔天空。后来的我,读书更多。思想越广,旅行的爱好也越加理性。我并不是单纯地欣赏自然风光,如果这样的话,美国的天赋美景已足够我享受了;对我来说,欧洲悠久的历史和古老的习俗有着更大的吸引力,我也希望了解欧洲伟大人物的故事,那里是美国文化的渊源所在。
对于那些幽静村舍、壮丽山川或无名遗迹来说,我是个真诚爱慕着它们的悠闲过客,遇见吸引我的地方,随手涂写两笔,但挂一漏万,也是难免的。
“I am of this mind with Homer, that as the snaile that crept out of her shel was turned eftsoons into a toad, and thereby was forced to make a stoole to sit on; so the traveller that stragleth from his owne country is in a short time transformed into so monstrous a shape, that he is faine to alter his mansion with his manners, and to live where he can, not where he would.”— LYLY\'S EUPHUES.
I WAS always fond of visiting new scenes, and observing strange characters and manners. Even when a mere child I began my travels, and made many tours of discovery into foreign parts and unknown regions of my native city, to the frequent alarm of my parents, and the emolument of the town-crier. As I grew into boyhood, I extended the range of my observations. My holiday afternoons were spent in rambles about the surrounding country. I made myself familiar with all its places famous in history or fable. I knew every spot where a murder or robbery had been committed, or a ghost seen. I visited the neighboring villages, and added greatly to my stock of knowledge, by noting their habits and customs, and conversing with their sages and great men. I even journeyed one long summer\'s day to the summit of the most distant hill, whence I stretched my eye over many a mile of terra incognita, and was astonished to find how vast a globe I inhabited.
This rambling propensity strengthened with my years. Books of voyages and travels became my passion, and in devouring their contents, I neglected the regular exercises of the school. How wistfully would I wander about the pier-heads in fine weather, and watch the parting ships, bound to distant climes — with what longing eyes would I gaze after their lessening sails, and waft myself in imagination to the ends of the earth!
Further reading and thinking, though they brought this vague inclination into more reasonable bounds, only served to make it more decided. I visited various parts of my own country; and had I been merely a lover of fine scenery, I should have felt little desire to seek elsewhere its gratification, for on no country have the charms of nature been more prodigally lavished. Her mighty lakes, like oceans of liquid silver; her mountains, with their bright aerial tints; her valleys, teeming with wild fertility; her tremendous cataracts, thundering in their solitudes; her boundless plains, waving with spontaneous verdure; her broad deep rivers, rolling in solemn silence to the ocean; her trackless forests, where vegetation puts forth all its magnificence; her skies, kindling with the magic of summer clouds and glorious sunshine;— no, never need an American look beyond his own country for the sublime and beautiful of natural scenery.
But Europe held forth the charms of storied and poetical association. There were to be seen the masterpieces of art, the refinements of highly-cultivated society, the quaint peculiarities of ancient and local custom. My native country was full of youthful promise: Europe was rich in the accumulated treasures of age. Her very ruins told the history of times gone by, and every mouldering stone was a chronicle. I longed to wander over the scenes of renowned achievement — to tread, as it were, in the footsteps of antiquity — to loiter about the ruined castle — to meditate on the falling tower — to escape, in short, from the commonplace realities of the present, and lose myself am

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