书名：The Road From Home离家的路
难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数990L
作者：David Kherdian大卫·赫尔典
出版社名称：William Morrow
出版时间：1995
语种：英文
ISBN：9780688144258
商品尺寸：10.5 x 1.3 x 17.5 cm
包装：简装
页数：242
美国作家大卫·赫尔典所著的The Road From Home《离家的路》，从一个小女孩的视角讲述了大屠杀给人民生活带来的巨大不幸，她用爱和善的力量在磨难中保持着心灵的纯净，在不幸中成长，从破败的历史中开辟出新的未来。透过本书独特的编排手法与情节铺陈，读者不难感受历经生死劫难、看尽人间冷暖的坚强。

David Kherdian re-creates his mother’s voice in telling the true story of a childhood interrupted by one of the most devastating holocausts of our century. Vernon Dumehjian Kherdian was born into a loving and prosperous family. Then, in the year 1915, the Turkish government began the systematic destruction of its Armenian population.
我开始听见窃窃私语——不管是在我家，还是在奶奶家……我开始听见诸如“驱逐出境”“大屠杀”“灭绝”之类的词，我不喜欢这些词的发音，但我不喜欢的还是他们说出这些词时的面部表情。
大卫·赫尔典以他母亲的声音，讲述了母亲孩提时的故事。小女孩塞隆的幸福童年不幸上世纪惨无人道的民族大屠杀打断。她出生在一个充满爱的幸福家庭，但1915年，土耳其政府对亚美尼亚人展开了彻底的摧毁行动。八岁的塞隆在长达八年的辗转流离中，居无定所，目睹残暴，痛失亲人，但她仍然坚忍地带着悲伤、充满希望地成长和生活。
大卫·赫尔典（David Kherdian），美国著名作家。1931年出生于美国威斯康星州拉辛，曾在威斯康星大学学习哲学。已经出版作品六十多本，包括小说、回忆录、传记、诗文集、儿童图书等。小说家威廉·萨洛扬称他是一位有真正声音和风格的诗人，具有世界魅力。《离家的路》是大卫根据自己母亲童年的经历写成的。
David Kherdianre-creates his mother’s voice in telling the true story of a childhood interrupted by one of the most devastating holocausts of our century. Vernon Dumehjian Kherdian was born into a loving and prosperous family. Then, in the year 1915, the Turkish government began the systematic destruction of its Armenian population.
For as long as I knew the sky and the clouds, we lived in our white stucco house in the Armenian quarter of Azizya, in Turkey, but when the great dome of Heaven cracked and shattered over our lives, and we were abandoned by the sun and blown like scattered seed across the Arabian desert, none returned but me, and my Azizya, my precious home, was made to crumble and fall and forever disappear from my life.
My father had gone to Afyon Karahissar to get his bride, and my grandmother used to say, “When he brought our harss [bride] from Afyon, we had music and dancing for one week, and I made thirty-five trays of pahklava [pastry] and thirty trays of khourabia [sugar cookies] for the wedding.”
My grandmother’s friends—Turkish, Greek and Armenian—all said, “Where did you find this girl? She looks like a country girl, tall and strong, and with such red cheeks.”
My mother was gifted with her fingers, and she was strong and healthy. She was an expert weaver in addition to tending to her housework and her garden of vegetables and flowers.
I remember how she used to make khashkash from the poppy seeds. She would first brown the seeds in a frying pan and then grind them on a special stone. It made a kind of poppy-seed butter, and it was one of our staples. Every time she made a fresh batch she would invite her lady friends over for lunch. My mother was very gay and friendly, and she was always having her friends over because Father was away so much of the time on business.
Everyone in the family was especially fond of my mother, because my aunt, the other bride in my grandmother’s home, was delicate and frail and unable to do hard work. She was sick most of the time, and they used to say, “Vakh, vakh, our boy’s life has been burnt; this bride has come to nothing.”
At that time, and in that region, a sick bride was considered the worst thing of all. We all lived under one roof then, with my grandparents and aunts and uncles, but when I was five, we moved, with my sick aunt and uncle and cousin, to the new Armenian quarter. There we had the acreage we needed for growing poppies, because my father’s business was harvesting and selling the gum that was used in making opium.