喜福会 英文原版 The Joy Luck Club 全英文版女性小说 Amy tan 美国华裔女作家谭恩美 进口英语书籍
运费: | ¥ 0.00-999.00 |
库存: | 88 件 |
商品详情
书名:The Joy Luck Club喜福会
难度:Lexile蓝思阅读指数930L
作者:Amy Tan
出版社名称:Penguin Books
出版时间:2006
语种:英文
ISBN:9780143038092
商品尺寸:13.5 x 1.5 x 20.2 cm
包装:平装
页数:288(以实物为准)
The Joy Luck Club《喜福会》是美国著名华裔女作家谭恩美的首部长篇小说,也是她的成名作,甫一出版即大获成功,当年曾经连续八个月荣登《纽约时报》畅销书排行榜,旋即改编为同名影片,影响深远。
小说描写了四位性格、命运各异的中国女性抛却国难家仇,移居美国,以及她们各自在美国出生、成长的女儿的生活经历。作为第1代移民的母亲们虽已身在异国,却仍是彻头彻尾的中国女性,国难家仇可以抛在身后,却无法抛却与祖国的血脉亲情。而在美国出生的女儿们,虽外表看来与母亲非常相像,却是迥异于中华入国的价值观与环境下成长起来的,并不得不亲身承受两种文化与价值观的冲撞。母女之间既有深沉执著的骨肉亲情,又有着无可奈何的隔膜怨恨,既相到关心又相到伤害……不过,越过了一切的仍是共同的中华母亲,是血浓于水的母女深情。
推荐理由:
1.美国著名华裔女作家谭恩美成名作,《纽约时报》年度畅销书;
2.华裔美国文学代表作品,获奖无数的经典之作;
3.电影《喜福会》原著小说,内容完整无删减。
媒体评论:
“拥有神话般的魔力。”——《华盛顿邮报》
“美妙的描写,出类拔萃之作!”——《纽约书评》
“充满魔力,令人忍不住一口气读完。”——《洛杉矶时报》
“这是一本罕有的,令人着迷的小说,是我们一直在寻找却很少能找到的,那种纯粹的阅读乐趣。”——《芝加哥论坛报》
“小说该如何讲述记忆与传承?本书为我们上了精彩而令人印象深刻的一课。”——《旧金山书评》
For readers of Amy Tan’s bestselling novel, The Valley of Amazement, and her new memoir, Where the Past Begins, revisit her classic tale of mothers and daughters
Four mothers, four daughters, four families whose histories shift with the four winds depending on who’s “saying” the stories. In 1949 four Chinese women, recent immigrants to San Francisco, begin meeting to eat dim sum, play mahjong, and talk. United in shared unspeakable loss and hope, they call themselves the Joy Luck Club. Rather than sink into tragedy, they choose to gather to raise their spirits and money. “To despair was to wish back for something already lost. Or to prolong what was already unbearable.” Forty years later the stories and history continue.
With wit and sensitivity, Amy Tan examines the sometimes painful, often tender, and always deep connection between mothers and daughters. As each woman reveals her secrets, trying to unravel the truth about her life, the strings become more tangled, more entwined. Mothers boast or despair over daughters, and daughters roll their eyes even as they feel the inextricable tightening of their matriarchal ties. Tan is an astute storyteller, enticing readers to immerse themselves into these lives of complexity and mystery.
Review
“Powerful as myth.” —The Washington Post Book World
“Beautifully written... a jewel of a book.”—The New York Times Book Review
“Powerful... full of magic... you won’t be doing anything of importance until you have finished this book.” —Los Angeles Times
“Wonderful... a significant lesson in what storytelling has to do with memory and inheritance.”—San Francisco Chronicle
“Reading it really changed the way I thought about Asian-American history. Our heritage has a lot of difficult stuff in it — a lot of misogyny, a lot of fear and rage and death. It showed me a past that reached beyond borders and languages and cultures to bring together these disparate elements of who we are. I hadn’t seen our history like that before. At that time, we hadn’t seen a lot of Asian-American representations anywhere, so it was a big deal that it even existed. It made me feel validated and seen. That’s what’s so important about books like that. You feel like, Oh my god, I exist here. I exist in this landscape of literature and memoir. I’m here, and I have a story to tell, and it’s among the canon of Asian-American stories that are feminist and that are true to our being. It’s a book that has stayed with me and lived in me.”—Margaret Cho
The Joy Luck Club《喜福会》是谭恩美的处女作,也是一部自传式小说,取材于她的母亲和外婆的经历。“喜福会”指的是每周举行一次的四家好友聚会。四个来自天南海北的中国女人带着各自多舛的命运,辗转来到美国,扎根生子。一方面努力适应着异域的生活,为如何处理与女儿的关系而困惑、操心;一方面仍然割不断与故国的血脉联系。她们的童年际遇各异,年轻时代经历了战乱导致的颠沛流离,遭到命运种种有意或无意的嘲弄,虽然怀着母爱,但在面对与自己成长环境和思维方式都迥异的下一代时,不可避免地要面对各种各样的隔阂。
主人公吴菁妹原来跟母亲有很深的误会,当她代替已去世的母亲回到中国探望两个当年在战乱中失散的姐姐时,深深感受到上一代的苦难和割舍不了的亲情。
In 1949 four Chinese women, recent immigrants to San Francisco, begin meeting to eat dim sum, play mahjong, and talk. United in shared loss and hope, they call themselves the Joy Luck Club. With wit and sensitivity, Amy Tan examines the sometimes painful, often tender, and always deep connection between these four women and their American-born daughters. As each reveals her secrets, trying to unravel the truth about her life, the strings become more tangled, more entwined…
谭恩美(Amy Tan),知名美籍华裔女作家,1952年出生于美国加州奥克兰。三十三岁开始写小说,后出版首部长篇小说《喜福会》,自此奠定了她在文学界的声誉。《喜福会》生动地描写了母女之间的微妙的感情,这本小说不仅获得该年度国家书卷奖,还被改编成了电影,创下了极高的票房佳绩。其他作品有《灶神之妻》《灵感女孩》《接骨师之女》《沉没之鱼》和为儿童创作的《月亮夫人》《中国暹罗猫》等。
Amy Tan is the author of The Joy Luck Club, The Kitchen God’s Wife, The Hundred Secret Senses, The Bonesetter’s Daughter,The Opposite of Fate, Saving Fish from Drowning, and two children’s books, The Moon Lady and The Chinese Siamese Cat, which has been adapted as Sagwa, a PBS series for children. Tan was also the co-producer and co-screenwriter of the film version ofThe Joy Luck Club, and her essays and stories have appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies. Her work has been translated into more than twenty-five languages. Tan, who has a master’s degree in linguistics from San Jose University, has worked as a language specialist to programs serving children with developmental disabilities. She lives with her husband in San Francisco and New York.
My father has asked me to be the fourth corner at the Joy Luck Club. I am to replace my mother, whose seat at the mah jong table has been empty since she died two months ago. My father thinks she was killed by her own thoughts.
“She had a new idea inside her head,” said my father. “But before it could come out of her mouth, the thought grew too big and burst. It must have been a very bad idea.”
The doctor said she died of a cerebral aneurysm. And her friends at the Joy Luck Club said she died just like a rabbit: quickly and with unfinished business left behind. My mother was supposed to host the next meeting of the Joy Luck Club.
The week before she died, she called me, full of pride, full of life: “Auntie Lin cooked red bean soup for Joy Luck. I’m going to cook black sesame -seed soup.”
“Don’t show off,” I said.
“It’s not showoff.” She said the two soups were almost the same, chabudwo. Or maybe she said butong, not the same thing at all. It was one of those Chinese expressions that means the better half of mixed intentions. I can never remember things I didn’t understand in the first place.
My mother started the San Francisco version of the Joy Luck Club in 1949, two years before I was born. This was the year my mother and father left China with one stiff leather trunk filled only with fancy silk dresses. There was no time to pack anything else, my mother had explained to my father after they boarded the boat. Still his hands swam frantically between the slippery silks, looking for his cotton shirts and wool pants.
When they arrived in San Francisco, my father made her hide those shiny clothes. She wore the same brown-checked Chinese dress until the Refugee Welcome Society gave her two hand-me-down dresses, all too large in sizes for American women. The society was composed of a group of white-haired American missionary ladies from the First Chinese Baptist Church. And because of their gifts, my parents could not refuse their invitation to join the church. Nor could they ignore the old ladies’ practical advice to improve their English through Bible study class on Wednesday nights and, later, through choir practice on Saturday mornings. This was how my parents met the Hsus, the Jongs, and the St. Clairs. My mother could sense that the women of these families also had unspeakable tragedies they had left behind in China and hopes they couldn’t begin to express in their fragile English. Or at least, my mother recognized the numbness in these women’s faces. And she saw how quickly their eyes moved when she told them her idea for the Joy Luck Club.
Joy Luck was an idea my mother remembered from the days of her first marriage in Kweilin, before the Japanese came. That’s why I think of Joy Luck as her Kweilin story. It was the story she would always tell me when she was bored, when there was nothing to do, when every bowl had been washed and the Formica table had been wiped down twice, when my father sat reading the newspaper and smoking one Pall Mall cigarette after another, a warning not to disturb him. This is when my mother would take out a box of old ski sweaters sent to us by unseen relatives from Vancouver. She would snip the bottom of a sweater and pull out a kinky thread of yarn, anchoring it to a piece of cardboard. And as she began to roll with one sweeping rhythm, she would start her story. Over the years, she told me the same story, except for the ending, which grew darker, casting long shadows into her life, and eventually into mine.
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