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英语原版有声读物:《了不起的盖茨比》Chapter5

2015-11-11    来源:普特英语听力    【      美国外教 在线口语培训

《The Great GATSBY》

《了不起的盖茨比》

简介:

《了不起的盖茨比》是美国作家弗·司各特·菲茨杰拉德1925年所写的一部以20世纪20年 代的纽约市及长岛为背景的中篇小说,小说的背景被设定在现代化的美国社会中上阶层的白人圈内,通过卡拉韦的叙述展开。《了不起的盖茨比》问世,奠定了弗· 司各特·菲茨杰拉德在现代美国文学史上的地位,成了20年代“爵士时代”的发言人和“迷惘的一代”的代表作家之一。20世纪末,美国学术界权威在百年英语 文学长河中选出一百部最优秀的小说,《了不起的盖茨比》高居第二位,傲然跻身当代经典行列。

作者简介:

F.S.菲茨杰拉德(Francis Scott Fitzgerald 1896~1940),美国小说家。1896年9月24日生于明尼苏达州圣保罗市。父亲是家具商。他年轻时试写过剧本。读完高中后考入普林斯顿大学。在校 时曾自组剧团,并为校内文学刊物写稿。后因身体欠佳,中途辍学。1917年入伍,终日忙于军训,未曾出国打仗。退伍后坚持业余写作。1920年出版了长篇 小说《人间天堂》,从此出了名,小说出版后他与吉姗尔达结婚。婚后携妻寄居巴黎,结识了安德逊、海明威等多位美国作家。1925年《了不起的盖茨比》问 世,奠定了他在现代美国文学史上的地位,成了20年代“爵士时代”的发言人和“迷惘的一代”的代表作家之一。菲兹杰拉德成名后继续勤奋笔耕,但婚后妻子讲 究排场,后来又精神失常,挥霍无度,给他带来极大痛苦。他经济上入不敷出,一度去好莱坞写剧本挣钱维持生计。1936年不幸染上肺病,妻子又一病不起,使 他几乎无法创作,精神濒于崩溃,终日酗酒。1940年12月21日迸发心脏病,死于洛杉矶,年仅44岁。菲兹杰拉德不仅写长篇小说,矩篇小说也频有特色。 除上述两部作品外,主要作品还有《夜色温柔》(1934)和《末代大亨的情缘》(1941)。他的小说生动地反映了20年代“美国梦”的破灭,展示了大萧 条时朗美国上层社会“荒原时代”的精神面貌。

Chapter 5:

hen I came home to West Egg that night I was afraid for a moment that my house was on fire. Two o’clock and the whole corner of the peninsula was blazing with light, which fell unreal on the shrubbery and made thin elongating glints upon the roadside wires. Turning a corner, I saw that it was Gatsby’s house, lit from tower to cellar.

At first I thought it was another party, a wild rout that had resolved itself into “hide-and-go-seek” or “sardines-in-the-box” with all the house thrown open to the game. But there wasn’t a sound. Only wind in the trees, which blew the wires and made the lights go off and on again as if the house had winked into the darkness. As my taxi groaned away I saw Gatsby walking toward me across his lawn.

“Your place looks like the World’s Fair,” I said.

“Does it?” He turned his eyes toward it absently. “I have been glancing into some of the rooms. Let’s go to Coney Island, old sport. In my car.”

“It’s too late.”

“Well, suppose we take a plunge in the swimming-pool? I haven’t made use of it all summer.”

“I’ve got to go to bed.”

“All right.”

He waited, looking at me with suppressed eagerness.

“I talked with Miss Baker,” I said after a moment. “I’m going to call up Daisy to-morrow and invite her over here to tea.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” he said carelessly. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“What day would suit you?”

“What day would suit you?” he corrected me quickly. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble, you see.”

“How about the day after to-morrow?” He considered for a moment. Then, with reluctance:

“I want to get the grass cut,” he said.

We both looked at the grass — there was a sharp line where my ragged lawn ended and the darker, well-kept expanse of his began. I suspected that he meant my grass.

“There’s another little thing,” he said uncertainly, and hesitated.

“Would you rather put it off for a few days?” I asked.

“Oh, it isn’t about that. At least ——” He fumbled with a series of beginnings. “Why, I thought — why, look here, old sport, you don’t make much money, do you?”

“Not very much.”

This seemed to reassure him and he continued more confidently.

“I thought you didn’t, if you’ll pardon my — You see, I carry on a little business on the side, a sort of side line, you understand. And I thought that if you don’t make very much — You’re selling bonds, aren’t you, old sport?”

“Trying to.”

“Well, this would interest you. It wouldn’t take up much of your time and you might pick up a nice bit of money. It happens to be a rather confidential sort of thing.”

I realize now that under different circumstances that conversation might have been one of the crises of my life. But, because the offer was obviously and tactlessly for a service to be rendered, I had no choice except to cut him off there.

“I’ve got my hands full,” I said. “I’m much obliged but I couldn’t take on any more work.”

“You wouldn’t have to do any business with Wolfsheim.” Evidently he thought that I was shying away from the “gonnegtion” mentioned at lunch, but I assured him he was wrong. He waited a moment longer, hoping I’d begin a conversation, but I was too absorbed to be responsive, so he went unwillingly home.

The evening had made me light-headed and happy; I think I walked into a deep sleep as I entered my front door. So I didn’t know whether or not Gatsby went to Coney Island, or for how many hours he “glanced into rooms” while his house blazed gaudily on. I called up Daisy from the office next morning, and invited her to come to tea.

“Don’t bring Tom,” I warned her.

“What?”

“Don’t bring Tom.”

“Who is ‘Tom’?” she asked innocently.

The day agreed upon was pouring rain. At eleven o’clock a man in a raincoat, dragging a lawn-mower, tapped at my front door and said that Mr. Gatsby had sent him over to cut my grass. This reminded me that I had forgotten to tell my Finn to come back, so I drove into West Egg Village to search for her among soggy, whitewashed alleys and to buy some cups and lemons and flowers.

The flowers were unnecessary, for at two o’clock a greenhouse arrived from Gatsby’s, with innumerable receptacles to contain it. An hour later the front door opened nervously, and Gatsby, in a white flannel suit, silver shirt, and gold-colored tie, hurried in. He was pale, and there were dark signs of sleeplessness beneath his eyes.

“Is everything all right?” he asked immediately.

“The grass looks fine, if that’s what you mean.”

“What grass?” he inquired blankly. “Oh, the grass in the yard.” He looked out the window at it, but, judging from his expression, I don’t believe he saw a thing.

“Looks very good,” he remarked vaguely. “One of the papers said they thought the rain would stop about four. I think it was the Journal. Have you got everything you need in the shape of — of tea?”

I took him into the pantry, where he looked a little reproachfully at the Finn. Together we scrutinized the twelve lemon cakes from the delicatessen shop.

“Will they do?” I asked.

“Of course, of course! They’re fine!” and he added hollowly, “ . . . old sport.”

The rain cooled about half-past three to a damp mist, through which occasional thin drops swam like dew. Gatsby looked with vacant eyes through a copy of Clay’s Economics, starting at the Finnish tread that shook the kitchen floor, and peering toward the bleared windows from time to time as if a series of invisible but alarming happenings were taking place outside. Finally he got up and informed me, in an uncertain voice, that he was going home.

“Why’s that?”

“Nobody’s coming to tea. It’s too late!” He looked at his watch as if there was some pressing demand on his time elsewhere. “I can’t wait all day.”

“Don’t be silly; it’s just two minutes to four.”

He sat down miserably, as if I had pushed him, and simultaneously there was the sound of a motor turning into my lane. We both jumped up, and, a little harrowed myself, I went out into the yard.

Under the dripping bare lilac-trees a large open car was coming up the drive. It stopped. Daisy’s face, tipped sideways beneath a three-cornered lavender hat, looked out at me with a bright ecstatic smile.
 



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