學(xué)了多年的英語，仍然沒有辦法閱讀英文原著，不逼自己一把，永遠(yuǎn)都不會進(jìn)步。從今天開啟我的英文原著閱讀打卡活動。不刻意追求單詞和語法，只仔細(xì)品讀大師作品的深層次內(nèi)涵，在享受經(jīng)典的同時提高自己的英語閱讀能力。
開啟的第一篇英文閱讀計(jì)劃的書目是《我的叔叔于勒》，來自法國短篇小說巨匠莫泊桑，相信不用介紹，他的大名早已如雷貫耳。他擅長從日常瑣碎的生活中提取片段，配合他細(xì)致的刻畫和樸實(shí)的筆觸，從而諷刺和抨擊了社會現(xiàn)象，引人深思。
《我的叔叔于勒》便是莫泊桑先生的代表作之一，通過從“我”的角度出發(fā)，在緩緩的故事講述中，揭露人與人之間的變態(tài)關(guān)系。
《My Uncle Jules》
A white-haired old man begged us for alms. My companion, Joseph Davranche, gave him five francs. Noticing my surprised look, he said:
"That poor unfortunate reminds me of a story which I shall tell you, the memory of which continually pursues me. Here it is:
"My family, which came originally from Havre, was not rich. We just managed to make both ends meet. My father worked hard, came home late from the office, and earned very little. I had two sisters.
"My mother suffered a good deal from our reduced circumstances, and she often had harsh words for her husband, veiled and sly reproaches. The poor man then made a gesture which used to distress me.
He would pass his open hand over his forehead, as if to wipe away perspiration which did not exist, and he would answer nothing. I felt his helpless suffering. We economized on everything, and never would accept an invitation to dinner, so as not to have to return the courtesy. All our provisions were bought at bargain sales. My sisters made their own gowns, and long discussions would arise on the price of a piece of braid worth fifteen centimes a yard. Our meals usually consisted cf soup and beef, prepared with every kind of sauce.
They say it is wholesome and nourishing, but I should have preferred a change.
"I used to go through terrible scenes on account of lost buttons and torn trousers.
"Every Sunday, dressed in our best, we would take our walk along the breakwater. My father, in a frock coat, high hat and kid gloves, would offer his arm to my mother, decked out and beribboned like a ship on a holiday. My sisters, who were always ready first, would await the signal for leaving; but at the last minute some one always found a spot on my father's frock coat, and it had to be wiped away quickly with a rag moistened with benzine.
"My father, in his shirt sleeves, his silk hat on his head, would await the completion of the operation, while my mother, putting on her spectacles, and taking off her gloves in order not to spoil them, would make haste.
"Then we set out ceremoniously. My sisters marched on ahead, arm in arm. They were of marriageable age and had to be displayed. I walked on the left of my mother and my father on her right. I remember the pompous air of my poor parents in these Sunday walks, their stern expression, their stiff walk. They moved slowly, with a serious expression, their bodies straight, their legs stiff, as if something of extreme importance depended upon their appearance.
"Every Sunday, when the big steamers were returning from unknown and distant countries, my father would invariably utter the same words:
"'What a surprise it would be if Jules were on that one! Eh?'
