书名：My Side of the Mountain 山居岁月
难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数810L
作者：Jean Craighead George
出版社名称：2004
出版时间：Puffin Books
语种：英文
ISBN：9780142401118
商品尺寸：12.7 x 1.2 x 17.8 cm
包装：平装
页数：192

我相信许多小孩都有过离家出走的念头，但仅仅是念头。也许有的孩子真的独自离开过家门，不过，他们只是离家一两个小时，或去网吧、车站、公园、街道等地方。实际的问题是：离家后如何生活？找什么工作？住在哪儿？一般来说，离家的孩子都是跑了再说，不会考虑太多。但无论如何，大多数梦想出走的孩子选择的地方都是到一个大城市生活吧。

而本书的小主人公纽约男孩山姆偏偏逆向思考，在获得父母的同意下，山姆在五月的一天离开了家，他要到克斯奇山寻找曾祖父遗留下来的葛博礼农场。一把小刀、一捆绳索、一把斧头、一些打火石和钢片是他为这次出走准备的所有东西。对山姆而言，这不是一次短暂的旅行或露营，他是要像树一样在森林中长久地、独立地生存。
跟随着山姆深入森林的脚步，“野外生存”这四个字渐渐地不再是一种抽象的符号和虚幻的想象，它的真实、艰辛和迷人如同磁石一般吸引着所有没有勇气和机会进入的我们。

那么，山姆是否能适应野人般的探险生活呢？在这段山居岁月里，他养一只聪明的猎鹰，名叫惊风，有男爵黄鼠狼为伴。当然，他又有了哪些危险经历，又积累了哪些野外求生经验呢？让读者感到意外的，还是本书的精彩结局！

本书荣获1960年纽伯瑞儿童文学奖银奖。
Sam Gribley is terribly unhappy living in his family’s crowed New York City apartment. So, armed with just the bare necessities—a penknife, a ball of cord, some flint and steel, and the clothes on his back—he runs away to the mountains. There, Sam must rely on his own ingenuity and the resources of the great outdoors to survive—and he discovers a side of himself he never knew existed.
An extraordinary book... it will be read year after year. ("The Horn Book")

珍•克雷赫德•乔治是一位热爱自然、以写作自然故事为主的美国著名儿童文学作家，作品多达一百部以上，而且得过许多奖项，深受文坛和大众的推崇。

她的写作风格受家庭影响很大。全家每到周末就出外露营、爬树、采集野生植物做菜、用树枝自制钓鱼钩等等。《山居岁月》的故事就是她童年的梦想，而故事中山姆的野外求生技能，主要来自于她童年的生活经验。

写作和自然是她的生活重心。从事写作初期，珍与丈夫约翰合作撰写传记式动物故事，然而她真正获得好评的作品却是独自完成的自然故事：获1960年纽伯瑞银奖的《山居岁月》，获1973年纽伯瑞金奖的《狼女茱莉》。后来，她又为这两部作品各写了两本续集，发展成为三部曲。

Jean Craighead George (1919–2012) was the author of more than 100 beloved books for young people, including the Newbery Medal–winning Julie of the Wolves and the Newbery Honor–winning My Side of the Mountain. She was a lifetime naturalist and was beloved by generations of nature-loving children. Two of her children, Craig and Twig, helped complete her last novel.

I am on my mountain in a tree home that people have passed without ever knowing that I am here. The house is a hemlock tree six feet in diameter, and must be as old as the mountain itself. I came upon it last summer and dug and burned it ou until I made a snug cave in the tree that I now call home.
“My bed is on the right as you enter, and is made of ash slats and covered with deerskin. On the left is a small fireplace about knee high. It is of clay and stones. It has a chimney that leads the smoke out through a knothole. I chipped out three other knotholes to let fresh air in. The air coming in is bitter cold. It must be below zero outside, and yet I can sit here inside my tree and write with bare hands. The fire is small, too. It doesn’t take much fire to warm this tree room. “It is the fourth of December, I think. It may be the fifth. I am not sure because I have not recently counted the notches in the aspen pole that is my calendar. I have been just too busy gathering nuts and berries, smoking venison, fish, and small game to keep up with the exact date. “The lamp I am writing by is deer fat poured into a turtle shell with a strip of my old city trousers for a wick.
“It snowed all day yesterday and today. I have not been outside since the storm began, and I am bored for the first time since I ran away from home eight months ago to live on the land.
“I am well and healthy. The food is good. Sometimes I eat turtle soup, and I know how to make acorn pancakes. I keep my supplies in the wall of the tree in wooden pockets that I chopped myself.
 “Every time I have looked at those pockets during the last two days, I have felt just like a squirrel, which reminds me: I didn’t see a squirrel one whole day before that storm began. I guess they are holed up and eating their stored nuts, too.
“I wonder if The Baron, that?s the wild weasel who lives behind the big boulder to the north of my tree, is also denned up. Well, anyway, I think the storm is dying down because the tree is not crying so much. When the wind really blows, the whole tree moans right down to the roots, which is where I am.
“Tomorrow I hope The Baron and I can tunnel out into the sunlight. I wonder if I should dig the snow. But that would mean I would have to put it somewhere, and the only place to put it is in my nice snug tree. Maybe I can pack it with my hands as I go. I’ve always dug into the snow from the top, never up from under.
“The Baron must dig up from under the snow. I wonder where he puts what he digs? Well, I guess I?ll know in the morning.”