Truman Capote’s first novel is a story of almost supernatural intensity and inventiveness, an audacious foray into the mind of a sensitive boy as he seeks out the grown-up enigmas of love and death in the ghostly landscape of the deep South.
At the age of twelve, Joel Knox is summoned to meet the father who abandoned him at birth. But when Joel arrives at the decaying mansion i...
Truman Capote’s first novel is a story of almost supernatural intensity and inventiveness, an audacious foray into the mind of a sensitive boy as he seeks out the grown-up enigmas of love and death in the ghostly landscape of the deep South.
At the age of twelve, Joel Knox is summoned to meet the father who abandoned him at birth. But when Joel arrives at the decaying mansion in Skully’s Landing, his father is nowhere in sight. What he finds instead is a sullen stepmother who delights in killing birds; an uncle with the face—and heart—of a debauched child; and a fearsome little girl named Idabel who may offer him the closest thing he has ever known to love.
作者简介
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TRUMAN CAPOTE was born September 30, 1924, in New Orleans. After his parents’ divorce, he was sent to live with relatives in Monroeville, Alabama. It was here he would meet his lifelong friend, the author Harper Lee. With the 1948 publication of Other Voices, Other Rooms, Capote was catapulted onto the international literary scene and for nearly four decades was a fixture in Ne...
TRUMAN CAPOTE was born September 30, 1924, in New Orleans. After his parents’ divorce, he was sent to live with relatives in Monroeville, Alabama. It was here he would meet his lifelong friend, the author Harper Lee. With the 1948 publication of Other Voices, Other Rooms, Capote was catapulted onto the international literary scene and for nearly four decades was a fixture in New York literati and high society circles. Twice awarded the O. Henry Short Story Prize, Capote was also the recipient of a National Institute of Arts and Letters Creative Writing Award and an Edgar Award. Among his many celebrated works are the short-story collection The Grass Harp, the novella Breakfast at Tiffany’s, the memoirs A Christmas Memory and The Thanksgiving Visitor, and the true-crime masterpiece In Cold Blood. Capote died in 1984, just weeks shy of his sixtieth birthday.
"Darling, " he read, "I love you as no woman ever loved, but Lance, my dearest, leave me now while our love is still a shining thing." “亲爱的，我对你的爱是任何女人都比不上的，但是，请离开我，趁现在我们的爱仍然熠熠生辉的时候离开我。” (查看原文)
很喜欢Randolf这个角色 ; "what are most lives but a series of incomplete episodes? 'we work in the dark, we do what we can, we give what we have. Out doubt is our passion, our passion is our task...'"
很喜欢Randolf这个角色 ; "what are most lives but a series of incomplete episodes? 'we work in the dark, we do what we can, we give what we have. Out doubt is our passion, our passion is our task...'"
The trio on the porch were figures in a woodcut engraving: the Ancient on his throne of splendid pillows, a yellow pet relaxed in his lap gazing gravely in the drowning light at the small servant bowed at its master's feet, and the arms of the black arrow-like daughter lifted above them all, as if in benediction. But there was no prayer in Joel's mind; rather, nothing a net of words could captu...
2014-10-22 23:15
The trio on the porch were figures in a woodcut engraving: the Ancient on his throne of splendid pillows, a yellow pet relaxed in his lap gazing gravely in the drowning light at the small servant bowed at its master's feet, and the arms of the black arrow-like daughter lifted above them all, as if in benediction.
But there was no prayer in Joel's mind; rather, nothing a net of words could capture, for, with one exception, all his prayers of the past had been simple concrete requests: God, give me a bicycle, a knife with seven blades, a box of oil paints. Only how, how, could you say something so indefinite, so meaningless as this: God, let me be loved.
"Amen," whispered Zoo. And in this moment, like a swift intake of breath, the rain came.
The trio on the porch were figures in a woodcut engraving: the Ancient on his throne of splendid pillows, a yellow pet relaxed in his lap gazing gravely in the drowning light at the small servant bowed at its master's feet, and the arms of the black arrow-like daughter lifted above them all, as if in benediction. But there was no prayer in Joel's mind; rather, nothing a net of words could captu...
2014-10-22 23:15
The trio on the porch were figures in a woodcut engraving: the Ancient on his throne of splendid pillows, a yellow pet relaxed in his lap gazing gravely in the drowning light at the small servant bowed at its master's feet, and the arms of the black arrow-like daughter lifted above them all, as if in benediction.
But there was no prayer in Joel's mind; rather, nothing a net of words could capture, for, with one exception, all his prayers of the past had been simple concrete requests: God, give me a bicycle, a knife with seven blades, a box of oil paints. Only how, how, could you say something so indefinite, so meaningless as this: God, let me be loved.
"Amen," whispered Zoo. And in this moment, like a swift intake of breath, the rain came.
The trio on the porch were figures in a woodcut engraving: the Ancient on his throne of splendid pillows, a yellow pet relaxed in his lap gazing gravely in the drowning light at the small servant bowed at its master's feet, and the arms of the black arrow-like daughter lifted above them all, as if in benediction. But there was no prayer in Joel's mind; rather, nothing a net of words could captu...
2014-10-22 23:15
The trio on the porch were figures in a woodcut engraving: the Ancient on his throne of splendid pillows, a yellow pet relaxed in his lap gazing gravely in the drowning light at the small servant bowed at its master's feet, and the arms of the black arrow-like daughter lifted above them all, as if in benediction.
But there was no prayer in Joel's mind; rather, nothing a net of words could capture, for, with one exception, all his prayers of the past had been simple concrete requests: God, give me a bicycle, a knife with seven blades, a box of oil paints. Only how, how, could you say something so indefinite, so meaningless as this: God, let me be loved.
"Amen," whispered Zoo. And in this moment, like a swift intake of breath, the rain came.
彼岸
南京大学出版社2011版
思郁
南京大学出版社2011版
青果
南京大学出版社2011版
原醉
南京大学出版社2011版
玛荔呀
南京大学出版社2011版
范典
南京大学出版社2011版
The trio on the porch were figures in a woodcut engraving: the Ancient on his throne of splendid pillows, a yellow pet relaxed in his lap gazing gravely in the drowning light at the small servant bowed at its master's feet, and the arms of the black arrow-like daughter lifted above them all, as if in benediction. But there was no prayer in Joel's mind; rather, nothing a net of words could captu...
0 有用 ellajma 2007-08-16
didn't finish. A bit too narcissism for me.
0 有用 青枳 2013-03-07
有好多诗意又美妙的语句，但没有像书面简介中说的什么intense好不好！！！还有书中一个角色的原型是To Kill a Mockingbird的作者
0 有用 怪起司 2016-09-12
很喜欢Randolf这个角色 ; "what are most lives but a series of incomplete episodes? 'we work in the dark, we do what we can, we give what we have. Out doubt is our passion, our passion is our task...'"
0 有用 怪起司 2016-09-12
很喜欢Randolf这个角色 ; "what are most lives but a series of incomplete episodes? 'we work in the dark, we do what we can, we give what we have. Out doubt is our passion, our passion is our task...'"
0 有用 青枳 2013-03-07
有好多诗意又美妙的语句，但没有像书面简介中说的什么intense好不好！！！还有书中一个角色的原型是To Kill a Mockingbird的作者
0 有用 ellajma 2007-08-16
didn't finish. A bit too narcissism for me.