书名：Villette 维莱特
难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数1130L
作者：Charlotte Brontë夏洛蒂·勃朗特
出版社名称：Signet Classics
出版时间：2014
语种：英文
ISBN：9780451465443
商品尺寸：10.6x 3.6x 17.3cm
包装：简装
页数：608 （以实物为准）

Villette《维莱特》是夏洛蒂·勃朗特以笔名柯勒·贝尔（Currer Bell）出版一部半自传体小说。故事是以作者本人在布鲁塞尔的经历为基础，讲述了贫穷的年轻女孩露西·斯诺在比利时一个女子寄宿学校工作和生活的经历。这本小说被认为是夏洛蒂生平的现实主义写照。相比她的前几部作品，在这部作品中夏洛蒂表达了对生活、爱情、婚姻的更为成熟的看法，以及对于女性问题更为深切的关注和思考。
本书为Signet Classics推出的英文原版，由Adriana Trigiani作序，Helen Benedict后记。内容完整无删减，书本轻巧便携。

“Brontë’s finest novel.”—Virginia Woolf
“A still more wonderful book thanJane Eyre.”—George Eliot

Fleeing an unhappy past in England, penniless Lucy Snowe starts life anew at a boarding school in cosmopolitan Villette, a stand-in for Brussels. The mystery, jealousy, and love that she finds there give Charlotte Brontë’s final novel much of the Gothic tone and psychological incisiveness that prompted George Eliot, Virginia Woolf, and others to callVilletteher finest work. Based on Brontë’s own experiences in Brussels and her attachment to a brilliant teacher with a strong and eccentric personality, this superb romantic novel is an exceptional example of how a great writer transforms the ordinary events of her life into vivid and exciting art.Villetterepresents the inimitable Brontë genius by giving us a masterful portrait of Lucy Snowe, who belongs beside the great nineteenth-century literary heroines—and who will strongly appeal to modern readers.

With a New Introduction by Adriana Trigiani and an Afterword by Helen Benedict

With neither friends nor family, Lucy Snowe sets sail from England to find employment in a girls’ boarding school in the small town of Villette. There she struggles to retain her self-possession in the face of unruly pupils, an initially suspicious headmaster, and her own complex feelings, first for the school’s English doctor and then for the dictatorial professor, Paul Emmanuel. Charlotte Brontë’s last and most autobiographical novel is a powerfully moving study of isolation and the pain of unrequited love, narrated by a heroine determined to preserve an independent spirit in the face of adverse circumstances.

夏洛蒂·勃朗特（Charlotte Brontë，1816-1855），英国小说家、诗人，“勃朗特三姐妹”之一。生于贫苦的牧师家庭，曾在寄宿学校学习，后任教师和家庭教师。1847年，夏洛蒂•勃朗特以Currer Bell为笔名出版长篇小说Jane Eyre《简爱》，轰动文坛。其他作品有：Shirley《谢利》、Villette《维莱特》和The Professor《教师》等。

Charlotte Brontë(1816–55) was the third of the three famous Brontë sisters. Along with their brother, they grew up in the isolated Yorkshire village of Haworth with no real schooling and little care. The Brontë sisters tried for ten years to make their living as governesses. Finding the occupation hateful, they decided to set up their own school. To prepare themselves, Charlotte and Emily set off for Brussels to learn French and German. Back in Haworth, Charlotte and her sisters published a volume of poems; though only two copies were sold, the Brontës were stimulated to attempt novels. Emily’sWuthering Heightsand Anne’sAgnes Greyfound publishers, but Charlotte’s offering was returned with the suggestion she try again. The manuscript of her next novel,Jane Eyre, was accepted overnight and became an immediate success.Shirley,Villette, andThe Professorcomplete the tally of her novels.

Adriana Trigianiis an award-winning playwright, television writer, and documentary filmmaker. Her books include theNew York TimesbestsellerThe Shoemaker’s Wife;the Big Stone Gap series;Very Valentine; Brava, Valentine; Lucia, Lucia;and the best-selling memoirDon’t Sing at the Table, as well as the young adult novelsViola in Reel LifeandViola in the Spotlight. She has written the screenplay forBig Stone Gap,which she will also direct. She lives in New York City with her husband and daughter.

Helen Benedictis the author of such novels asSand Queen,A World Like This,Bad Angel, andThe Sailor’s Wife. She is a professor at Columbia University, where she teaches writing and literature in the Graduate School of Journalism.

My godmother lived in a handsome house in the clean and ancient town of Bretton. Her husband’s family had been residents there for generations, and bore, indeed, the name of their birthplace—Bretton of Bretton: whether by coincidence, or because some remote ancestor had been a personage of sufficient importance to leave his name to his neighbourhood, I know not.
When I was a girl I went to Bretton about twice a year, and well I liked the visit. The house and its inmates specially suited me. The large peaceful rooms, the well-arranged furniture, the clear wide windows, the balcony outside, looking down on a fine antique street, where Sundays and holidays seemed always to abide—so quiet was its atmosphere, so clean its pavement—these things pleased me well.
One child in a household of grown people is usually made very much of, and in a quiet way I was a good deal taken notice of by Mrs. Bretton, who had been left a widow, with one son, before I knew her; her husband, a physician, having died while she was yet a young and handsome woman.
She was not young, as I remember her, but she was still handsome, tall, well-made, and though dark for an English-woman, yet wearing always the clearness of health in her brunette cheek, and its vivacity in a pair of fine, cheerful black eyes. People esteemed it a grievous pity that she had not conferred her complexion on her son, whose eyes were blue—though, even in boyhood, very piercing—and the colour of his long hair such as friends did not venture to specify, except as the sun shone on it, when they called it golden. He inherited the lines of his mother’s features, however; also her good teeth, her stature (or the promise of her stature, for he was not yet full-grown), and, what was better, her health without flaw, and her spirits of that tone and equality which are better than a fortune to the possessor.
In the autumn of the year——I was staying at Bretton, my godmother having come in person to claim me of the kinsfolk with whom was at that time fixed my permanent residence. I believe she then plainly saw events coming, whose very shadow I scarce guessed; yet of which the faint suspicion sufficed to impart unsettled sadness, and made me glad to change scene and society.
Time always flowed smoothly for me at my godmother’s side; not with tumultuous swiftness, but blandly, like the gliding of a full river through a plain. My visits to her resembled the sojourn of Christian and Hopeful beside a certain pleasant stream, with “green trees on each bank, and meadows beautified with lilies all the year round.” The charm of variety there was not, nor the excitement of incident; but I liked peace so well, and sought stimulus so little, that when the latter came I almost felt it a disturbance, and wished rather it had still held aloof.
One day a letter was received of which the contents evidently caused Mrs. Bretton surprise and some concern. I thought at first it was from home, and trembled, expecting I know not what disastrous communication: to me, however, no reference was made, and the cloud seemed to pass.
The next day, on my return from a long walk, I found, as I entered my bedroom, an unexpected change. In addition to my own French bed in its shady recess, appeared in a corner a small crib, draped with white; and in addition to my mahogany chest of drawers, I saw a tiny rosewood chest. I stood still, gazed, and considered.