书名：Purity 纯度

作者：Jonathan Franzen乔纳森·弗兰岑

出版社名称：Fourth Estate

出版时间：2016

语种：英文

ISBN：9780007532780

商品尺寸：19.8 x3.8 x 12.8 cm

包装：平装

页数：564 （以实物为准）

Purity《纯度》（又译作普里蒂）是美国当代知名小说家、随笔作家乔纳森·弗兰岑（Jonathan Franzen）的第五部小说，根据其改编的电视剧《普里蒂》将于2018年播出，主演为007丹尼尔·克雷格。 推荐理由： 1. 美国文学大师乔纳森·弗兰岑小说集，均为新时代经典之作； 2. 故事引人入胜，描写细腻深刻，笔法幽默诙谐，文字充满思考和力量； 3. 美国当代文学，极具当代气息和思想深度，读起来并不艰涩难懂； 4. 英文原版，采用轻型环保纸印刷，纸质护眼，阅读舒适。 “Superbly readable, it is the work of a novelist at the height of his powers… This new work by an American master of realism has novelistic pleasures in abundance.” —Sunday Times“Purity makes the most compelling reading, and Franzen reveals himself here to be even more a master than ever.” —Evening Standard“Franzen’s most fleet-footed, least self-conscious and most intimate novel yet… Franzen has added a new octave to his voice.” —New York Times

Purity《纯度》（普里蒂）讲述一个名叫Pip Tyler的女孩和单亲妈妈生活在美国北加州，她知道自己的真名叫“普里蒂”（Purity），但不知道自己的亲生父亲是谁，也弄不清楚为何妈妈过着隐居生活。为尽快还清13万的大学助学贷款，Pip在南美洲找到一份非政府组织的实习工作，和该组织的领导Andreas Wolf关系不同寻常。Pip Tyler doesn’t know who she is. She knows that her real name is Purity, that she’s saddled with student debt and a reclusive mother, but there few clues as to who her father is or how she’ll ever have a normal life. Then she meets Andreas Wolf—internet outlaw, charismatic provocateur, a man who deals in secrets and might just be able to help her solve mystery of her origins.

乔纳森·弗兰岑（Jonathan Franzen），美国知名小说家、随笔作家。以抨击现代传媒、书写普通民众著称，作品具有强烈的时代性。曾获美国国家图书奖。 1959年生于伊利诺伊州，1981年毕业于斯沃思莫学院德文专业。1996年在《哈泼氏》杂志上发表了长篇随笔《偶尔做梦》，从此受到广泛关注。迄今为止，出版有小说《第二十七座城市》（1988）、《强震》（1992）、《纠正》（2001）、《自由》（2010），随笔集《如何独处》（2002），以及回忆录《不舒适地带：个人史》（2006）。 Jonathan Franzenis the author of five novels —Purity,Freedom,The Corrections,The Twenty-Seventh City, andStrong Motion —and five works of nonfiction and translation, includingFarther Away,How to Be Alone, andThe Discomfort Zone, all published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux. He is a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, the German Akademie der Kunste, and the French Ordre des Arts et des Lettres.

Purity in OaklandMonday“Oh pussycat, I’m so glad to hear your voice,” the girl’s mother said on the telephone. “My body is betraying me again. Sometimes I think my life is nothing but one long process of bodily betrayal.”  “Isn’t that everybody’s life?” the girl, Pip, said. She’d taken to calling her mother midway through her lunch break at Renewable Solutions. It brought her some relief from the feeling that she wasn’t suited for her job, that she had a job that nobody could be suited for, or that she was a person unsuited for any kind of job; and then, after twenty minutes, she could honestly say that she needed to get back to work.  “My left eyelid is drooping,” her mother explained. “It’s like there’s a weight on it that’s pulling it down, like a tiny fisherman’s sinker or something.”  “Right now?”  “Off and on. I’m wondering if it might be Bell’s palsy.”  “Whatever Bell’s palsy is, I’m sure you don’t have it.”  “If you don’t even know what it is, pussycat, how can you be so sure?”  “I don’t know -- because you didn’t have Graves’ disease? Hyperthyroidism? Melanoma?”  It wasn’t as if Pip felt good about making fun of her mother. But their dealings were all tainted by moral hazard, a useful phrase she’d learned in college economics. She was like a bank too big in her mother’s economy to fail, an employee too indispensable to be fired for bad attitude. Some of her friends in Oakland also had problematic parents, but they still managed to speak to them daily without undue weirdnesses transpiring, because even the most problematic of them had resources that consisted of more than just their single offspring. Pip was it, as far as her own mother was concerned.  “Well, I don’t think I can go to work today,” her mother said. “My Endeavor is the only thing that makes that job survivable, and I can’t connect with the Endeavor when there’s an invisible fisherman’s sinker pulling on my eyelid.”  “Mom, you can’t call in sick again. It’s not even July. What if you get the actual flu or something?”  “And meanwhile everybody’s wondering what this old woman with half her face drooping onto her shoulder is doing bagging their groceries. You have no idea how I envy you your cubicle. The invisibility of it.”  “Let’s not romanticize the cubicle,” Pip said.  “This is the terrible thing about bodies. They’re so visible, so visible.”