书名：Sounder大嗓门传奇
难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数900L
作者：William H. Armstrong
出版社名称：HarperCollins
出版时间：1995
语种：英文
ISBN：9780064400206
商品尺寸：10.8 x 0.6 x 19 cm
包装：平装
页数：116
★美国纽伯瑞儿童文学金奖
★美国刘易斯·卡罗尔书架奖
★美国图书馆协会杰出儿童图书奖
★美国国会图书馆推荐童书
★《纽约时报》杰出儿童图书
★《出版人周刊》精选童书

有的作品嬉笑热闹，但看过就被忘却；有的作品沉静忧伤，却长久盘踞读者心头。后者，经过时间的沉淀和一代代读者的考验，成为经典。Sounder《大嗓门传奇》就是一部有“美国儿童文学里程碑”之誉的经典。除了得到纽伯瑞奖和刘易斯·卡罗尔书架奖的认可，本书还被美国国会图书馆、美国图书馆协会、“号角图书奖”、《纽约时报》和《出版人周刊》等机构与媒体评为年度杰作，根据本书改编的同名电影更获得1973年奥斯卡金像奖影片提名。

本书中的大嗓门是一条勇猛、忠诚的猎犬，在男主人因偷火腿被捕时为救主而中枪，独自在野外养伤后拖着残躯回家，等到老主人去世才默默死去。与大嗓门形影不离的是故事主人公，一个承受孤独、扛起责任的无名黑人男孩。面对困苦的生活、不公正的歧视甚至是暴力，男孩选择了隐忍与宽恕。尽管生活给了他那么多风霜，但在母亲和老师的影响下，他却学会了从容。母亲给他讲《圣经》故事，老师教会他识字读书。

尽管故事的时代离我们很远，但本书却是一部不受时间影响的经典。它的魅力首先来自于故事本身。主人公一家在悲剧面前顽强地生活，执着地坚守内心的信念、希望与爱，这份隐忍、坚韧、乐观的精神为读者带来了无比的力量。本书的魅力还来自于它的文学之美。这是一部杰出的中篇小说，它的结构具有古典的平衡感，紧张的冲突与舒缓的日常相得益彰；作者的文笔凝练、生动，善于通过细节来描摹场景、刻画形象，令人一读难忘。无论青少年还是成年读者，阅读《大嗓门传奇》都会被深深触动。

媒体评论：
“作家细腻的文字无论何时都闪耀着光芒。”——美国《纽约时报书评》

“一部杰出的小说，具有悲天悯人的情怀和强大的感染力，展现了人与动物的尊严与顽强意志。”——美国《华尔街日报》

“这本小说讲述的是19世纪美国南方一个黑人雇农家庭的故事，本书十分难得地既优美又朴实。书中人物都没有名字，因而突出了他们身上被压迫人民的普遍性，而作者令人信服、巨细靡遗的描写又让人物具有了各自的个性。这是一本情感相当丰富的小说。”——美国《学校图书馆期刊》

Set in the Deep South, this Newbery Medal-winning novel tells the story of the great coon dog, Sounder, and the poor sharecroppers who own him. Celebrating 30 years!
During the difficult years of the nineteenth century South, an African American boy and his poor family rarely have enough to eat. Each night, the boy’s father takes their dog, Sounder, out to look for food and the man grows more desperate by the day.
When food suddenly appears on the table one morning, it seems like a blessing. But the sheriff and his deputies are not far behind. The ever-loyal Sounder remains determined to help the family he loves as hard times bear down on them.
This classic novel shows the courage, love, and faith that bind an African American family together despite the racism and inhumanity they face. Readers who enjoy timeless dog stories such as Old YellerandWhere the Red Fern Grows will find much to love in Sounder.

Review
“A rarely beautiful, understated novel about a black share-cropper and his family in the 19th-century American South. An extraordinarily sensitive book.”  — School Library Journal

“The power of the writing lies in its combination of subtlety and strength.”  — H.

“The writing is simple, timeless and extraordinarily moving. An outstanding book.”  — Commonweal
Sounder《大嗓门传奇》的故事主人公是一个无名的黑人男孩，他与家人一起生活在美国南方一个偏僻山村，家里有一条嗓音洪亮的猎犬——“大嗓门”。年成不好，寒冬将近，父亲为了让全家饱餐，竟成了盗窃犯，被捕入狱；大嗓门为了救主，被枪击中，身负重伤，失去踪影。

就在男孩久寻不获、几近绝望的时候，大嗓门拖着残废的身躯回家了。之后，男孩承担起养家的担子，空闲时候则四处寻找父亲。日子一年一年过去，父亲也终于归来，然而此时他却已是个年迈、残废的老人。对男孩而言，这似乎是个悲伤的结局，但这么多年的经历让他懂得了一件事：花只要开过一次，就永远在看过花开的人心中开着。
The Powerful Newbery Award-Winning Classic
A landmark in children’s literature, winner of the 1970 Newbery Medal, and the basis of an acclaimed film, Sounder traces the keen sorrow and the abiding faith of a poor African-American boy in the 19th-century South. The boy’s father isa sharecropper, struggling to feed his family in hard times. Night after night, he and his great coon dog, Sounder, return to the cabin empty-handed. Then, one morning, almost like a miracle, a sweet-smelling ham is cooking in the family’s kitchen. At last the family will have a good meal. But that night, an angry sheriff and his deputies come, and the boy’s life will never be the same.

威廉·阿姆斯特朗，美国作家、教育工作者。他出生于1914年，在一所中学教授“古代历史”和“学习方法”长达五十二年，一生创作了近二十本书，包括文学、学习指南、自我帮助等方面的作品。除了在教职岗位上的贡献，小说《大嗓门传奇》更为他赢得了包括纽伯瑞儿童文学金奖在内的一系列荣誉。阿姆斯特朗于1999年逝世。
William H. Armstrong grew up in Lexington, Virginia.He was graduated from Hampden-Sydney College and did graduate work at the University of Virginia.He taught ancient history and study techniques at the Kent School for fifty-two years. He also had a small sheep farm and lived in a house he built with his own hands. Author of more than a dozen books for adults and children, he won the John Newberry Medal for Sounder in 1970 and was awarded an honorary Doctor of Letters degree from Hampden-Sydney College in 1986.
THE TALL MAN stood at the edge of the porch. The roof sagged from the two rough posts which held it, almost dosing the gap between his head and the rafters. The dim light from the cabin window cast long equal shadows from man and posts. A boy stood nearby shivering in the cold October wind. He ran his fingers back and forth over the broad crown of the head of a coon dog named Sounder.
“Where did you first get Sounder?” the boy asked.
“I never got him. He came to me along the road when he wasn’t more’n a pup.”
The father turned to the cabin door. It was ajar. Three small children, none as high as the level of the latch, were peering out into the clark. “We just want to pet Sounder,” the three all said at once.
“It’s too cold. Shut the door.”
“Sounder and me must be about the same age,” the boy said, tugging gently at one of the coon dog’s ears, and then the other. He felt the importance of the years—as a child measures age which separated him from the younger children. He was old enough to stand out in the cold and run his fingers over Sounder’s head.
No dim lights from other cabins punctuated the night. The white man who owned the vast endless fields had scattered the cabins of his Negro sharecroppers far apart, like flyspecks on a whitewashed ceiling. Sometimes on Sundays the boy walked with his parents to set awhile at one of the distant cabins. Sometimes they went to the meetin’ house. And there was school too. But it was far away at the edge of town. Its term began after harvest and ended before planting time.
Two successive Octobers the boy had started, walking the eight miles morning and evening. But after a few weeks when cold winds and winter sickness came, his mother had said, “Give it up, child. It’s too long and too cold.” And the boy, remembering how he was always laughed at for getting to school so late, had agreed. Besides, he thought, next year he would be bigger and could walk faster and get to school before it started and wouldn’t be laughed at. And when he wasn’t dead-tired from walking home from school, his father would let him hunt with Sounder. Having both school and Sounder would be mighty good, but if he couldn’t have school, he could always have Sounder.
“There ain’t no dog like Sounder,” the boy said. But his father did not take up the conversation. The boy wished he would. His father stood silent and motionless. He was looking past the rim of half-light that came from the cabin window and pushed back the darkness in a circle that lost itself around the ends of the cabin. The man seemed to be listening. But no sounds came to the boy.