书名：Labyrinths迷宫
作者：Jorge Luis Borges
出版社名称：Penguin Classics
出版时间：2000
语种：英文
ISBN：9780141184845
商品尺寸：12.9 x 1.7 x 19.8 cm
包装：平装
页数：288
豪尔赫·路易斯·博尔赫斯，阿根廷诗人、小说家、散文家兼翻译家，其引导了二十世纪六十年代拉丁美洲文学热潮，是西班牙语、拉丁美洲文学脉络中里程碑式的人物，其影响力更超出拉丁美洲、欧洲，成为二十世纪享有世界声誉的文学大师。

诗歌、散文和短篇小说是博尔赫斯三大创作成果，而且各有千秋，相互辉映。有一种很生动的说法是：“他的散文读起来像小说；他的小说是诗；他的诗歌又往往使人觉得像散文。沟通三者的桥梁是他的思想。”他是与帕斯、聂鲁达齐名的拉美三大诗人之一，他的诗歌语言质朴，风格纯净，意境悠远。他的散文大多非常短小，但构思新颖，结构巧妙，安德烈·莫洛亚：“博尔赫斯是一位只写小文章的大作家。小文章而成大气候，在于其智慧的光芒、设想的丰富和文笔的简洁——像数学一样简洁的文笔。”

这本Labyrinths《迷宫》收录了博尔赫斯很受欢迎的短篇小说、散文以及寓言故事，其中包括《巴别图书馆》、《特隆、乌克巴尔、奥比斯·特蒂乌斯》、《博闻强记的富内斯》、《小径分岔的花园》、《吉诃德的作者皮埃尔·梅纳德》、《乌龟的变形》等作品，用散文和简短的寓言来探究深奥的哲理，便于读者更好地阅读和理解。

Jorge Luis Borges's Labyrinths is a collection of short stories and essays showcasing one of Latin America's most influential and imaginative writers. This Penguin Modern Classics edition is edited by Donald A. Yates and James E. Irby, with an introduction by James E. Irby and a preface by André Maurois.
Jorge Luis Borges was a literary spellbinder whose tales of magic, mystery and murder are shot through with deep philosophical paradoxes. This collection brings together many of his stories, including the celebrated 'Library of Babel', whose infinite shelves contain every book that could ever exist, 'Funes the Memorious' the tale of a man fated never to forget a single detail of his life, and 'Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote', in which a French poet makes it his life's work to create an identical copy of Don Quixote. In later life, dogged by increasing blindness, Borges used essays and brief tantalising parables to explore the enigma of time, identity and imagination. Playful and disturbing, scholarly and seductive, his is a haunting and utterly distinctive voice.
豪尔赫·路易斯·博尔赫斯,阿根廷诗人、小说家、评论家、翻译家，西班牙语文学大师。
一八九九年八月二十四日出生于布宜诺斯艾利斯，少年时随家人旅居欧洲。
一九二三年出版首部诗集《布宜诺斯艾利斯激情》，一九二五年出版首部随笔集《探讨集》，一九三五年出版首部短篇小说集《恶棍列传》，逐步奠定在阿根廷文坛的地位。代表诗集《圣马丁札记》、《老虎的金黄》，小说集《小径分岔的花园》、《阿莱夫》，随笔集《永恒史》、《探讨别集》等更为其赢得国际声誉。
博尔赫斯曾任阿根廷国家图书馆馆长、布宜诺斯艾利斯大学文学教授，获得阿根廷国家文学奖、福门托国际出版奖、耶路撒冷奖、巴尔赞奖、奇诺德尔杜卡奖、塞万提斯奖等多个文学大奖。
一九八六年六月十四日病逝于瑞士日内瓦。
Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986) was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina. A poet, critic and short story writer, he received numerous awards for his work including the 1961 International Publisher's Prize (shared with Samuel Beckett). He has a reasonable claim, along with Kafka and Joyce, to be one of the most influential writers of the 20th century.

I owe the discovery of Uqbar to the conjunction of a mirror and an encyclopedia. The mirror troubled the far end of a hallway in a large country house on Calle Gaona, in Ramos MejIa; the encyclopedia is misleadingly titled The Anglo-American Cyclopaedia (New York, 1917), and is a literal (though also laggardly) reprint of the 1902 Encycloprdia Britannica. The event took place about five years ago.
Bioy Casares had come to dinner at my house that evening, and we had lost all track of time in a vast debate over the way one might go about composing a first-person novel whose narrator would omit or distort things and engage in all sorts of contradictions, so that a few of the book’s readers—a very few— might divine the horrifying or banal truth. Down at that far end of the hallway, the mirror hovered, shadowing us. We discovered (very late at night such a discovery is inevitable) that there is something monstrous about mirrors. That was when Bioy remembered a saying by one of the heresiarchs of Uqbar: Mirrors and copulation are abominable, for they multiply the number of mankind. I asked him where he’d come across that memorable epigram, and he told me it was recorded in The Anglo-American Cyclopaedia., in its article on Uqbar.
The big old house (we had taken it furnished) possessed a copy of that work. On the last pages of Volume XLVI we found an article on Uppsala; on the first of Volume XLVII, “Ural-Altaic Languages”—not a word on Uqbar. Bioy, somewhat bewildered, consulted the volumes of the Index. He tried every possible spelling: Ukbar, Ucbar, Ookbar, Oukbahr... all in vain. Before he left, he told me it was a region in Iraq or Asia Minor. I confess 1 nodded a bit uncomfortably; I surmised that that undocumented country and its anonymous heresiarch were a fiction that Bioy had invented on the spur of the moment, out of modesty, in order to justif1 a fine-sounding epigram. A sterile search through one of the atlases of Justus Perthes reinforced my doubt.