书名：The Bluest Eye最蓝的眼睛
难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数920L
作者：Toni Morrison
出版社名称：Vintage
出版时间：1999
语种：英文
ISBN：9780099759911
商品尺寸：12.9 x 1.5 x 19.8 cm
包装：平装
页数：172（以实物为准）

★诺贝尔文学奖得主托妮·莫里森处女作
★耶鲁大学文学公开课指定阅读书
★邪恶的人以邪恶的方式去爱，残暴的人以残暴的方式去爱，软弱的人以软弱的方式去爱，愚蠢的人以愚蠢的方式去爱。

The Bluest Eye《最蓝的眼睛》是美国作家托妮·莫里森创作的长篇小说，讲述的是发生在1941年俄亥俄州洛林市某个黑人社区一个11岁的黑人小姑娘皮科拉的悲剧生活。

媒体评论：
“莫里森在小说中以丰富的想象力和富有诗意的表达方式使美国现实的一个极其重要的方面充满活力。”——诺贝尔文学奖颁奖辞

“《最蓝的眼睛》如此精准地描绘了人物，如此忠实地还原了话语，充满了如此疼痛和令人震惊的事实，于是它成为了一首诗。”——《纽约时报》

“极为成功的小说……紧凑而朴实，因冷静观察而犀利，因触及真实而悲悯……阅读《最蓝的眼睛》是一次动人的体验。”——《底特律自由报》

“这个故事要你陷入其中，因为它囊括了一个女孩的整个宇宙。”——《新闻周刊》

“《最蓝的眼睛》是为世上一切饥饿与孱弱的孩子谱写的一曲挽歌。”——《每日电讯》

“莫里森的风格让读者入迷……她的行文调动了多重感官，常常富有韵律，甚至如同咏唱，让人想起福克纳和艾米丽·迪金森。”——《泰晤士报文学增刊》

Nobel prize-winning author of Beloved, Toni Morrison’s debut novel immerses us in the tragic, torn lives of a poor black family – Pauline, Cholly, Sam and Pecola – in post-Depression 1940s Ohio.
Unlovely and unloved, Pecola prays each night for blue eyes like those of her privileged white schoolfellows. At once intimate and expansive, unsparing in its truth-telling, The Bluest Eye shows how the past savagely defines the present.

Review
"Not only a story but an awe-inspiring poem that confronts beauty itself."(Guardian)

"So charged with pain and wonder that the novel becomes poetry"(New York Times)

"I imagine if our greatest American novelist, William Faulkner, were alive today he would herald Toni Morrison's emergence as a kindred spirit... Discovering a writer like Toni Morrison is the rarest of pleasures"(Washington Post)

"The Bluest Eye is a fine book, a lament for all starved and stunted children everywhere"(Daily Telegraph)

"Morrison's style rivets the reader...her synaesthetic, often rhythmic, even chanting prose recalls both Faulkner and Emily Dickinson"(The Times Literary Supplement)

黑人小姑娘佩科拉渴望拥有一双白人小女孩那样的蓝眼睛。如果她的眼睛是蓝色的，也许，她就会变漂亮，学校里的同学就不会再欺负她了。如果她有一双蓝色的眼睛，也许父亲就不再酗酒，母亲不再躲避自己的家人，哥哥也不会再离家出走。为此，她整夜祈求，可等待她的，却是一桩无人能够料想的悲剧……

到头来，我们所有的希望、恐惧、爱和悲伤，都和那一年镇上的金盏花一样，颗粒无收。

托妮·莫里森（Toni Morrison），美国著名女作家。1931年生于俄亥俄州，曾在兰登书屋担任编辑，后赴普林斯顿大学等校任教。代表作有《最蓝的眼睛》《所罗门之歌》《宠儿》《爵士乐》《爱》《恩惠》等，曾获普利策小说奖、美国书评家协会奖、美国国家图书奖等多项大奖。1993年，荣获诺贝尔文学奖。

Toni Morrisonhas been the recipient of the Nobel Prize in Literature, the Pulitzer Prize, and the National Book Critics Circle Award. She is the Robert F. Goheen Professor of Humanities Emeritus at Princeton University. She lives in Rockland County, New York, and Princeton, New Jersey.

Here is the house. It is green and white. It has a red door. It is very pretty. Here is the family. Mother, Father, Dick, and Jane live in the green-and-white house. They are very happy. See Jane. She has a red dress. She wants to play. Who will play with Jane? See the cat. It goes meow-meow. Come and play. Come play with Jane. The kitten will not play. See Mother. Mother is very nice. Mother, will you play with Jane? Mother laughs. Laugh, Mother, laugh. See Father. He is big and strong. Father, will you play with Jane? Father is smiling. Smile, Father, smile. See the dog. Bowwow goes the dog. Do you want to play with Jane? See the dog run. Run, dog, run. Look, look. Here comes a friend. The friend will play with Jane. They will play a good game. Play, Jane, play.
Quiet as it’s kept, there were no marigolds in the fall of 1941. We thought, at the time, that it was because Pecola was having her father’s baby that the marigolds did not grow. A little examination and much less melancholy would have proved to us that our seeds were not the only ones that did not sprout; nobody’s did. Not even the gardens fronting the lake showed marigolds that year. But so deeply concerned were we with the health and safe delivery of Pocola’s baby we could think of nothing but our own magic: if we planted the seeds, and said the right words over them, they would blossom, and everything would be all right.
It was a long time before my sister and I admitted to ourselves that no green was going to spring from our seeds. Once we knew, our guilt was relieved only by fights and mutual accusations about who was to blame. For years I thought my sister was right: it was my fault. I had planted them too far down in the earth. It never occurred to either of us that the earth itself might have been unyielding. We had dropped our seeds in our own little plot of black dirt just as Pecola’s father had dropped his seeds in his own plot of black dirt. Our innocence and faith were no more productive than his lust or despair. What is clear now is that of all of that hope, fear, lust, love, and grief, nothing remains but Pecola and the unyielding earth. Cholly Breedlove is dead; our innocence too. The seeds shriveled and died; her baby too.
There is really nothing more to say—except why. But since why is difficult to handle, one must take refuge in how.