书名：We 我们 

作者：Yevgeny Zamyatin 

出版社名称：Alma Classics 

出版时间：2019 

语种：英文 

ISBN：9781847496768 

商品尺寸：14.8 x 1.9 x 19.9 cm 

包装：平装 

页数：320（以实物为准）★反乌托邦三部曲的源头之作，反极权政治的经典之作。 ★《我们》1994年获普罗米修斯奖的“名人堂”奖，希区柯克的悬疑故事《谋杀1990》就换骨于《我们》。 ★作者与高尔基同为20世纪20年代前苏联的文学导师，高超的文学表现手法对后世的影响很大。 ★焚书年代的文学珍品！可观照现实、启迪思想，值得反复品读，时隔半个多世纪依然具有强大的现实影射力！ We《我们》以笔记的形式，描绘了二十六世纪的一个集权主义国度“众一国”的生活场景：每个人都只有号码，没有姓名，住在完全透明的玻璃房子里，身穿同样的制服，吃的是化学食品，享受配给的生活，由一位永不更替的全权“恩主”统治。 本书是扎米亚京的传世之作，开创了反乌托邦小说这一崭新的文学类型，与奥尔德斯·赫胥黎的《美丽新世界》和乔治·奥威尔的《一九八四》并称为世界文坛著名的“反乌托邦三部曲”。 媒体评论： “就是这种对极权主义的非理性一面——把人当作祭祀的牺牲，把残忍作为目的本身，对一个赋有神的属性的领袖的崇拜的直觉掌握，使得扎米亚金的书优于其他人的书。”——《一九八四》作者，乔治·奥威尔 “《我们》哲学性可比柏拉图之《理想国》，趣味性可比H.G.威尔斯之幻想作品，冷峻得像一把上膛左轮手枪，讽刺性直追《格列佛游记》。”——哈佛大学教授、社会学家，皮特里姆·索罗金 We takes place in a distant future, where humans are forced to submit their wills to the requirements of the state, under the rule of the all-powerful Benefactor, and dreams are regarded as a sign of mental illness. In a city of straight lines, protected by green walls and a glass dome, a spaceship is being built in order to spearhead the conquest of new planets. Its chief engineer, a man called D-503, keeps a journal of his life and activities: to his mathematical mind everything seems to make sense and proceed as it should, until a chance encounter with a woman threatens to shatter the very foundations of the world he lives in. Written in a highly charged, direct and concise style, Zamyatin's 1921 seminal novel – here presented in Hugh Aplin's crisp translation – is not only an indictment of the Soviet Russia of his time and a precursor of the works of Orwell and the dystopian genre, but also a prefiguration of much of twentieth-century history and a harbinger of the ominous future that may still lay ahead of us. We《我们》被称为焚书年代里的文学珍品。作品描写了一个发生在一千年后的幻想故事：在一体国，公民没有姓名，只有号码。这里的人被包围在“绿墙”中，墙内的建筑包括寓所都是由玻璃或是其他透明材料制作或建造的，每个人都被暴露在“光天化日”下毫无保留。公民的生活遵循着统一的作息时刻，所有人在同样的时间从事同样的事情，任何敢于反对这种“幸福”的人都将会受到惩处。在这个透明的世界里，男性公民机械工程师D-503，爱上了美丽、具有反叛精神的女性公民I-330。一体国的好公民与一体国的反抗者的爱情在真与假的恍惚、对与错的犹疑中展开。故事的结尾：男主人公做了想象力切除手术，看着曾经为之神魂颠倒的爱人被送上死刑台而无动于衷…… 扎米亚金（1884-1937），俄罗斯白银时代的重要作家，以风格独具的民间口语叙述文体和幽默讽刺的笔墨驰誉文坛，被称为“语言大师”、“新现实主义小说的一代宗师”。中学时以语文成绩突出获得奖章。1902年进入彼得堡工学院攻读造船工程学，其间积极参加革命活动，两次被流放。十月革命前被派往英国参与建造后来命名为“列宁号”的破冰船；十月革命后回到苏联，在彼得堡工学院任教，同时参与文学活动。1931年写信给斯大林请求出国，获准出国。此后流亡欧洲，定居巴黎。1937年3月，因心绞痛病逝。主要作品有《外省小城》、《遥远的地方》、《岛民》、《我们》等。 Yevgeny Zamyatin (1884–1937) was a Russian novelist and journalist who worked as an engineer in England before becoming a writer in his homeland. His satirical and critical works earned him the displeasure of the Soviet regime and he spent the last few years of his life in exile in Paris. IT’S SPRING. From beyond the Green Wall, from the savage, invisible plains, the wind carries the yellow, honeyed dust of some kind of flowers. This sweet dust makes your lips go dry — you’re continually passing your tongue over them — and all the women you encounter must have sweet lips (and the men too, of course). This is something of a hindrance to logical thinking. But then the sky! Blue, not spoilt by a single cloud (how savage were the tastes of the ancients if their poets could be inspired by those absurd, sloppy, stupidly jostling heaps of vapour). I like — I’m sure I won’t be mistaken if I say: we like only such a sterile, irreproachable sky as this. On days like this the whole world is cast of that same unshakable, eternal glass as the Green Wall, as all of our constructions. On days like this you can see the very bluest depth of things, their various hitherto unknown, astounding equations — you can see them in something of the most customary, everyday kind. Well, this, for example. In the morning today I was at the dock where the Integral is being constructed — and suddenly I saw the machine tools: with eyes closed, selflessly, the spheres of the regulators were spinning; the cranks, gleaming, were bending to the right and to the left; the balance beam rocked its shoulders proudly; in time with inaudible music the chisel of the grooving machine was curtseying. I suddenly saw all the beauty of this grandiose ballet of machinery, flooded with gentle pale—blue sunshine. And then — talking to myself: why is it beautiful? Why is the dance beautiful? The answer: because it is unfree movement, because the entire profound meaning of the dance lies precisely in absolute, aesthetic subordination, ideal unfreedom. And if it’s true that our ancestors gave themselves up to dance at the most inspired moments of their lives (religious mysteries, military parades), then that means only one thing: the instinct of unfreedom has been organically inherent in man from ancient times, and we, in our present life, are only consciously... I shall have to finish later: the annunciator has given a click. I raise my eyes: 0-90, of course. And in half a minute she herself will he here: to fetch me for a walk.