描述
开 本: 16开纸 张: 轻型纸包 装: 平装是否套装: 否国际标准书号ISBN: 9787544734387丛书名: 英文经典
文学经典读物 语言学习读本
《了不起的盖茨比》 村上春树*喜爱的作家 二十世纪百部英语小说第二名 莱昂纳多·迪卡普里奥主演 同名电影
《了不起的盖茨比》是美国作家F.S.菲茨杰拉德1925年所写的一部以20世纪20年代的纽约市及长岛为背景的短篇小说，小说的背景被设定在现代化的美国社会中上阶层的白人圈内，通过卡洛维的叙述展开。表现了“美国梦”的幻灭。这部小说谴责以汤姆为代表的美国特权阶级自私专横，为所欲为，以同情的态度描写了盖茨比的悲剧，并指出他的悲剧来自他对生活和爱情的幻想，对上层社会人物缺乏认识。
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me someadvice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.
‘Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,’ he told me, ‘justremember that all the people in this world haven’t had theadvantages that you’ve had.’
He didn’t say any more but we’ve always been unusuallycommunicative n a reserved way, and I understood that he meant agreat deal more than that. In consequence I’m inclined to reserveall judgments,a habit that has opened up many curious natures to meand also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. Theabnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this qualitywhen it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that incollege I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I wasprivy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of theconfidences were unsought–frequently I have feigned sleep,preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by someunmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on thehorizon–for the intimate revelations of young men or at least theterms in which they express them are usually plagiaristic andmarred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter ofinfinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if Iforget that, as my father snobbishly suggested,and I snobbishlyrepeat a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled outunequally at birth.
And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to theadmission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hardrock or the wet marshes but after a certain point I don’t care whatit’s founded on.When I came back from the East last autumn I feltthat I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moralattention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions withprivileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man whogives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction–Gatsbywho represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. Ifpersonality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, thenthere was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivityto the promises of life, as if he were related to one of thoseintricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand milesaway. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabbyimpressionability which is dignified under the name of the‘creativetemperament’—it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romanticreadiness such as I have never found in any other person and whichit is not likely I shall ever find again. No—Gatsby turned out allright t the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dustfloated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out myinterest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations ofmen
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