描述
开 本: 32开纸 张: 轻型纸包 装: 精装是否套装: 否国际标准书号ISBN: 9787222175884
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《瓦尔登湖》
★与《圣经》一同被美国国会评为”塑造人类文明25部作品”之一。
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★为生活做减法;为思想做加法。这本书清新、健康、引人向上,语言生动,意境深邃,闪现智慧的光辉,它会让你感到心灵的纯净,精神的升华。
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Walden,中文译名为《瓦尔登湖》,是美国作家梭罗独居瓦尔登湖畔的记录,描绘了他两年多时间里的所见、所闻和所思。
1845年3月,梭罗来到瓦尔登湖,动手搭建一座十英尺宽、十五英尺长的小木屋;7月4日,也就是美国的独立纪念日,终于如愿以偿地开始了那段在后世成为传奇的独居生活。两年后,他带着在湖边生活时完成的书稿,永远地离开了那座亲手所建的木屋。之后七年间七易其稿,直到1854年8月9日才正式出版。
这部著作区别于先前文学作品的特征,是其对自然巨细靡遗的描摹和引申。大至四季交替造成的景色变化,小到两只蚂蚁的争斗,无不栩栩如生地再现于梭罗的生花妙笔之下,并且描写也不流于表浅,而是有着博物学家的精确。
作者无微不至地描述两年多的湖畔独居生活,目的在于通过这次亲力亲为的实验向读者证明:其实不需要很多钱,也能够好好地活着,而且能够快快乐乐地活着。
在今天的中国,有太多的人,为了一日三餐或者三房两厅,过着奔波劳碌、忧心如焚的日子;也许还有同样多的人,他们去澳洲旅游,去西藏朝圣,去欧洲购物,花三千块钱吃一顿饭或者做一次头发,却依然感到空虚和痛苦。但生活其实不必如此。这本《瓦尔登湖》能够让你明白这个道理。
正如梭罗在书中所说:”让我们如大自然般悠然自在地生活一天吧,别因为有坚果外壳或者蚊子翅膀落在铁轨上而翻了车。让我们该起床时就赶紧起床,该休息时就安心休息,保持安宁而没有烦扰的心态;身边的人要来就让他来,要去就让他去,让钟声回荡,让孩子哭喊下定决心好好地过一天。”
Chapter 1 Economy
Chapter 2 Where I Lived, and What I Lived For
Chapter 3 Reading
Chapter 4 Sounds
Chapter 5 Solitude
Chapter 6 Visitors
Chapter 7 The Bean-Field
Chapter 8 The Village
Chapter 9 The Ponds
Chapter 10 Baker Farm
Chapter 11 Higher Laws
Chapter 12 Brute Neighbors
Chapter 13 House-Warming
Chapter 14 Former Inhabitants and Winter Visitors
Chapter 15 Winter Animals
Chapter 16 The Pond in Winter
Chapter 17 Spring
Chapter 18 Conclusion
我们都记得亨利梭罗是位天才,性格突出,是我们农夫眼中zui有技艺的测量师,而且确实比他们更熟悉森林、草地和树木,但更为熟悉的是本国一位为数不多的优秀作家,而且我深信,他的声誉还没有达到他应该达到的一半。没有哪个美国人比梭罗活得更真实。
–拉夫尔沃尔多爱默生(美国著名作家)
美国文学中zui无可争议的传世作品,百年来长销不衰的心灵圣经,超凡入圣的好书。
–乔治艾略特(英国著名作家)
在过去的一百年里,《瓦尔登湖》已经成为美国文化中纯洁天堂的同义词。
–伊拉布鲁克(美国著名评论家)
《瓦尔登湖》的五种读法:1.作为一部自然与人的心灵探索之书;2.作为一部自力更生过简单生活的指南;3.作为批评现代生活的一部讽刺作品;4.作为一部纯文学的名著;5.作为一本神圣的书。
–梭罗研究专家哈丁
梭罗这人有脑子,像鱼有水、鸟有翅、云彩有天空。
–海子诗歌摘录
《瓦尔登湖》语语惊人,字字闪光,沁人心肺,动我衷肠。
–徐迟(作家、翻译家)
《瓦尔登湖》的伟大之处就在于梭罗能够通过艺术来实现自己决意要做的事业。通过创造一个有机的形式,他使自己的决定获得了新生:通过有意识的努力,他重新获得了一种成熟的恬静,如果说那不是黄金年龄的清纯狂喜的话。整个《瓦尔登湖》记录着自我在微观宇宙历程中的经历。
–谢尔曼保罗(美国著名评论家)
如果梭罗仅仅给我们留下一部一个男人在森林中生活的记载,或者说他仅仅退隐到森林之中,在那儿记载着他对社会的抱怨。甚至说,如果他想把这两者都合到一本书里,那么《瓦尔登湖》就不会有这一百年的生命。正像一切所进展一样,梭罗记下了人跟自然的关系,人在社会中的困境和人希望提高自我精神的习性,连他自己恐怕也没有意识到自己在做什么;他一会儿为自我辩护,一会儿充满了喜悦、自由、奔放,创造出了一个独特的煎蛋卷,让人们在饥饿的一天中不断从中汲取营养。《瓦尔登湖》是zui早一盘充满维生素的菜肴之一。
–E.B.怀特(美国著名作家)
When I wrote the following pages, or rather the bulk of them, I lived alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house which I had built myself, on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts, and earned my living by the labor of my hands only. I lived there two years and two months. At present I am a sojourner in civilized life again.
I should not obtrude my affairs so much on the notice of my readers if very particular inquiries had not been made by my townsmen concerning my mode of life, which some would call impertinent, though they do not appear to me at all impertinent, but, considering the circumstances, very natural and pertinent. Some have asked what I got to eat; if I did not feel lonesome; if I was not afraid; and the like. Others have been curious to learn what portion of my income I devoted to charitable purposes; and some, who have large families, how many poor children I maintained. I will therefore ask those of my readers who feel no particular interest in me to pardon me if I undertake to answer some of these questions in this book. In most books, the I, or first person, is omitted; in this it will be retained; that, in respect to egotism, is the main difference. We commonly do not remember that it is, after all, always the first person that is speaking. I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as well. Unfortunately, I am confined to this theme by the narrowness of my experience. Moreover, I, on my side, require of every writer, first or last, a simple and sincere account of his own life, and not merely what he has heard of other men’s lives; some such account as he would send to his kindred from a distant land; for if he has lived sincerely, it must have been in a distant land to me. Perhaps these pages are more particularly addressed to poor students. As for the rest of my readers, they will accept such portions as apply to them. I trust that none will stretch the seams in putting on the coat, for it may do good service to him whom it fits.
I would fain say something, not so much concerning the Chinese and Sandwich Islanders as you who read these pages, who are said to live in New England; something about your condition, especially your outward condition or circumstances in this world, in this town, what it is, whether it is necessary that it be as bad as it is, whether it cannot be improved as well as not. I have travelled a good deal in Concord; and everywhere, in shops, and offices, and fields, the inhabitants have appeared to me to be doing penance in a thousand remarkable ways. What I have heard of Bramins sitting exposed to four fires and looking in the face of the sun; or hanging suspended, with their heads downward, over flames; or looking at the heavens over their shoulders “until it becomes impossible for them to resume their natural position, while from the twist of the neck nothing but liquids can pass into the stomach”; or dwelling, chained for life, at the foot of a tree; or measuring with their bodies, like caterpillars, the breadth of vast empires; or standing on one leg on the tops of pillars,-even these forms of conscious penance are hardly more incredible and astonishing than the scenes which I daily witness. The twelve labors of Hercules were trifling in comparison with those which my neighbors have undertaken; for they were only twelve, and had an end; but I could never see that these men slew or captured any monster or finished any labor. They have no friend Iolaus to burn with a hot iron the root of the hydra’s head, but as soon as one head is crushed, two spring up.
I see young men, my townsmen, whose misfortune it is to have inherited farms, houses, barns, cattle, and farming tools; for these are more easily acquired than got rid of. Better if they had been born in the open pasture and suckled by a wolf, that they might have seen with clearer eyes what field they were called to labor in. Who made them serfs of the soil? Why should they eat their sixty acres, when man is condemned to eat only his peck of dirt? Why should they begin digging their graves as soon as they are born? They have got to live a man’s life, pushing all these things before them, and get on as well as they can. How many a poor immortal soul have I met well-nigh crushed and smothered under its load, creeping down the road of life, pushing before it a barn seventy-five feet by forty, its Augean stables never cleansed, and one hundred acres of land, tillage, mowing, pasture, and wood-lot! The portionless, who struggle with no such unnecessary inherited encumbrances, find it labor enough to subdue and cultivate a few cubic feet of flesh.
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