书名：Rabbit Run兔子跑吧 

难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数900L 

作者：John Updike 

出版社名称：Penguin Classics 

出版时间：2006 

语种：英文 

ISBN：9780141187839 

商品尺寸：13 x 1.7 x 19.9 cm 

包装：平装 

页数：288

Rabbit, Run《兔子，跑吧》是厄普代克的代表作“兔子四部曲”系列的第1部，也是奠定厄普代克文学成就的重要作品。“兔子四部曲”历时三十年创作完成，全套书紧密贯通，似一气呵成，每一部又可单独成篇，共塑造了约一百五十个大小不等的鲜活人物，因此成为全面展示美国中产阶级生活图景、深刻探索美国中产阶级灵魂现状和救赎的史诗性巨著。 媒体评论： “光彩夺目又深刻动人，厄普代克以其广大的悲悯、透彻的洞察以及水晶般明亮剔透的文化体，使我们跟兔子一起经历他的所思所想、忧伤悲痛，感同身受。”——《华盛顿邮报》 “精准，优雅，震撼，厄普代克真是位语言和形象的大师，同时又是思想和情感完美的洞悉者。”——《乡村之声》 The first book in his award-winning 'Rabbit' series, John Updike's Rabbit, Run contains an afterword by the author in Penguin Modern Classics. It's 1959 and Harry 'Rabbit' Angstrom, one time high school sports superstar, is going nowhere. At twenty-six he is trapped in a second-rate existence - stuck with a fragile, alcoholic wife, a house full of overflowing ashtrays and discarded glasses, a young son and a futile job. With no way to fix things, he resolves to flee from his family and his home in Pennsylvania, beginning a thousand-mile journey that he hopes will free him from his mediocre life. Because, as he knows only too well, 'after you've been first-rate at something, no matter what, it kind of takes the kick out of being second-rate'. Review 'It is sexy, in bad taste, violent and basically cynical. And good luck to it' --Angus Wilson, Observer 'That special polish, that brilliance; Updike is among the best'--Malcolm Bradbury 'Brilliant and poignant ... By his compassion, clarity of insight, and crystal-bright rose, [Updike] makes Rabbit's sorrow his and our own'--Washington Post 主人公哈罗德绰号“兔子”，曾是大学时代的篮球明星。离校后结婚，当了个推销员，到处推销菜刀，生活枯燥乏味。为逃避这种生活，他投入妓女露丝的怀抱。妻子分娩时，他回到妻子身边，两人和好，但在妻子拒绝了他的性要求后，他再次溜走。但露丝也怀孕了，他不愿承担责任，心不在焉地逃入茫茫黑夜…… 约翰•厄普代克（John Updike，1932.3.18—2009.1.27），集小说家、诗人、剧作家、散文家和评论家于一身的美国当代文学大师，作品两获普利策奖、两获国家图书奖以及欧•亨利奖等众多奖项多达十数次。“性爱、宗教和艺术”是厄普代克毕生追求的创作标的，“美国人、基督徒、小城镇和中产阶级”则是厄普代克独擅胜场的创作主题，他由此成为当之无愧的美国当代中产阶级的灵魂画师。 John Updike was born in 1932 in Shillington, Pennsylvania. He is the author of over fifty books, including The Poorhouse Fair; the Rabbit series (Rabbit, Run; Rabbit Redux; Rabbit Is Rich; Rabbit At Rest); Marry Me; The Witches of Eastwick, which was made into a major feature film; Memories of the Ford Administration; Brazil; In the Beauty of the Lilies; Toward the End of Time; Gertrude and Claudius; and Seek My Face. Updike graduated from Harvard College in 1954, and spent a year at Oxford's Ruskin School of Drawing and Fine Art. From 1955 to 1957 he was a member of staff at the New Yorker, and he lived in Massachusetts from 1957 until his death in January 2009. BOYS are playing basketball around a telephone pole with a backboard bolted to it. Legs, shouts. The scrape and snap of Keds on loose alley pebbles seems to catapult their voices high into the moist March air blue above the wires. Rabbit Angstrom, coming up the alley in a business suit, stops and watches, though he’s twenty-six and six three. So tall, he seems an unlikely rabbit, but the breadth of white face, the pallor of his blue irises, and a nervous flutter under his blue nose as he stabs a cigarette into his mouth partially explain the nickname, which was given to him when he too was a boy. He stands there thinking, the kids keep coming, they keep crowding you up. His standing there makes the real boys feel strange. Eyeballs slide. They’re doing this for themselves, not as a show for some adult walking around town in a double-breasted cocoa suit. It seems funny to them, an adult walking up the alley at all. Where’s his car? The cigarette makes it more sinister still. Is this one of those going to offer them cigarettes or money to go out in back of the ice plant with him? They’ve heard of such things but are not too frightened; there are six of them and one of him. The ball, rocketing off the crotch of the rim, leaps over the heads of the six and lands at the feet of the one. He catches it on the short bounce with a quickness that startles them. As they stare hushed he sights squinting through blue clouds of weed smoke, a suddenly dark silhouette like a smokestack against the afternoon spring sky, setting his feet with care, wiggling the ball with nervousness in front of his chest, one widespread white hand on top of the ball and the other underneath, jiggling it patiently to get some adjustment in air itself The cuticle moons on his fingernails are big. Then the ball seems to ride up the night lapel of his coat and comes off his shoulder as his knees dip down, and it appears the ball will miss because though he shot from an angle the ball is not going toward the backboard. It was not aimed there. It drops into the circle of the rim, whipping the net with a Ladylike whisper. “Hey!” he shouts in pride.