书名：Out of the Dust 风儿不要来
读者对象：8-12岁
作者：Karen Hesse凯伦·海瑟
出版社名称：Scholastic
出版时间：1999
语种：英文
ISBN：9780590371254
商品尺寸：13.5 x 1.5 x 19.3 cm
包装：平装
页数：228

Out of the Dust《风儿不要来》是美国知名儿童文学家凯伦·海瑟的代表作，也是一部描写生活艰辛，找回亲情温暖的杰作。该书畅销近二十年，感动了世界亿万读者。故事发生在美国经济大萧条时期的中部尘暴地区。全书采用了诗与散文相结合的优美文体，语言清润细腻，极富特色。
在这部不论时间上还是空间上都散发出人性光泽的作品中，作者融入的是她对生命和亲情的体悟。作品不仅探讨了美国干旱尘暴区的生态环境，也剖析了那个时期人们的心灵。在展示人与自然间激烈矛盾的同时，更塑造了许多个性鲜明的人物，带给读者无尽的感动与启迪。
推荐理由：
1.纽伯瑞文学奖金奖作品，美国图书馆协会推荐青少年读物；
2.一部穿越苦难，闪耀着勇气与力量的不朽经典；
3.亲近母语2017年小学生分级阅读书目图书（五年级）。

★1998年美国纽伯瑞文学奖金奖获奖作品
★奥台尔文学奖获奖作品
★美国图书馆协会推荐童书、年度青少年读物
★《学校图书馆杂志》年度图书
★《书单》年度影响力图书
★《出版社周刊》年度图书
★纽约公共图书馆推荐阅读与分享的百佳图书之一
This gripping story, written in sparse first-person, free-verse poems, is the compelling tale of Billie Jo’s struggle to survive during the dust bowl years of the Depression. With stoic courage, she learns to cope with the loss of her mother and her grieving father’s slow deterioration. There is hope at the end when Billie Jo’s badly burned hands are healed, and she is able to play her beloved piano again. The 1998 Newbery Medal winner.
★Winner of the Newbery Medal
★Winner of the Scott O’Dell Award
★An ALA Notable Children’s Book
★An ALA Best Book for Young Adults
★A School Library Journal Best Book of the Year
★A Booklist Editors’ Choice
★A Book Links “Lasting Connection”
★A Publishers Weekly Best Book of the Year
★A New York Public Library 100 Titles for Reading and Sharing selections

我叫比莉乔，出生在20世纪初美国一个尘埃漫天的沙州小镇。
这里曾是一望无垠的美丽草原，可后来，一片片金黄的麦田取代了草原的色彩。我们所有人的生命也变了色调——因为那逐渐肆孽的黄色尘暴。
十四岁那年，红色的火球吞噬了我挚爱的妈妈。我不知道那是爸爸的错还是我的错。如果妈妈的手还能再环住我的肩，或是拨拨我的头发，或是用轻柔的声音在我床边唱歌给我听，我想不管生活是多么艰苦，我都能用我受伤的手，继续快乐地弹着钢琴。
我每日都在渴望，渴望走出漫天尘沙的日子。然而当那一夜，我跳上一列朝西的火车想寻找远方的新希望，我才发现，我已经拥有了世界上很好的东西——家。
“DUST PILES UP LIKE SNOW ACROSS THE PRAIRIE..”.
A terrible accident has transformed Billie Jo’s life, scarring her inside and out. Her mother is gone. Her father can’t talk about it. And the one thing that might make her feel better — playing the piano — is impossible with her wounded hands.
To make matters worse, dust storms are devastating the family farm and all the farms nearby. While others flee from the dust bowl, Billie Jo is left to find peace in the bleak landscape of Oklahoma — and in the surprising landscape of her own heart.

凯伦·海瑟（Karen Hesse），美国知名儿童文学家，居住在美国佛蒙特州。代表作《风儿不要来》荣获1998年纽伯瑞儿童文学奖金奖。其他作品还有《丽芙卡的信》《妮尔的天空》等，多以真实历史为背景，均广受赞誉。
KAREN HESSEwon the Newbery Medal for Out of the Dust, and was recently named a MacArthur Fellow. Ms. Hesse and Ms. Watson previously collaborated on the picture book, The Cats in Krasinski Square, which received three starred reviews as well as numerous awards and Honours. She lives in Vermont with her husband.

“Nightmare”
I am awake now,
still shaking from my dream:
I was coming home
through a howling dust storm,
my lowered face was scrubbed raw by dirt and wind.
Grit scratched my eyes,
it crunched between my teeth.
Sand chafed inside my clothes,
against my skin.
Dust crept inside my ears, up my nose,
down my throat.
I shuddered, nasty with dust.
In the house,
dust blew through the cracks in the walls,
it covered the floorboards and
heaped against the doors.
If floated in the air, everywhere.
I didn’t care about anyone, anything, only the piano. I
searched for it,
found it under a mound of dust.
I was angry at Ma for letting in the dust.
I cleaned off the keys
but when I played,
a tortured sound came from the piano,
like someone shrieking.
I hit the keys with my fist, and the piano broke into
a hundred pieces.
Daddy called to me. He asked me to bring water,
Ma was thirsty.
I brought up a pail and Ma drank it.
I ran away. To the Eatons’ farm.
The house had been tractored out,
tipped off its foundation.
No one could live there.
Everywhere I looked were dunes of ripped dust.
The wind roared like fire.
The door to the house hung open and there was
dust inside
several feet deep.
And there was a piano.
The bench was gone, right through the floor.
The piano leaned toward me.
I stood and played.
The relief I felt to hear the sound of music after the
sound
of the piano at home….
I dragged the Eatons’ piano through the dust
to our house,
but when I got it there I couldn’t play. I had swollen
lumps for hands,
they dripped a sickly pus,
they swing stupidly from my wrists.
they stung with pain.
When I woke up, the part
about my hands
was real.
July 1934