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商品名称：英文经典－查泰莱夫人的情人（英文版）

商品编号：41024102442

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重量：0.000千克

上架时间：2020-09-20 10:37:21

ISBN编号：9787544748599

书名：查泰莱夫人的情人,查泰莱夫人的情人

作者：（英）劳伦斯　著

出版社名称：江苏译林出版社

定价：25.80元

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　　劳伦斯**大众口碑的长篇小说　　西方*惊世的情爱经典　　饱受争议，被禁长达32 年t 基本信息商品名称：英文经典－查泰莱夫人的情人（英文版）开本： 16开作者：（英）劳伦斯　著定价： 25.80 ISBN号： 9787544748599 出版时间： 2014-08-01 出版社：译林出版社印刷时间： 2014-08-01 版次： 1 印次： 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19t　　Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are a ...

基本信息

商品名称：	英文经典－查泰莱夫人的情人（英文版）	开本：	16开
作者：	（英）劳伦斯　著	定价：	25.80
ISBN号：	9787544748599	出版时间：	2014-08-01
出版社：	译林出版社	印刷时间：	2014-08-01
版次：	1	印次：	1

t　　Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.
　　This was more or less Constance Chatterley’s position. The war had brought the roof down over her head. And she had realised that one must live and learn.
　　She married Clifford Chatterley in 1917, when he was home for a month on leave. They had a month’s honeymoon. Then he went back to Flanders: to be shipped over to England again six months later, more or less in bits. Constance, his wife, was then twenty-three years old, and he was twenty-nine.
　　His hold on life was marvellous. He didn’t die, and the bits seemed to grow together again. For two years he remained in the doctor’s hands. Then he was pronounced a cure, and could return to life again, with the lower half of his body, from the hips down, paralysed for ever.
　　This was in 1920. They returned, Clifford and Constance, to his home, Wragby Hall, the family “seat”. His father had died, Clifford was now a baronet, Sir Clifford, and Constance was Lady Chatterley. They came to start housekeeping and married life in the rather forlorn home of the Chatterleys on a rather inadequate income. Clifford had a sister, but she had departed. Otherwise there were no near relatives. The elder brother was dead in the war. Crippled for ever, knowing he could never have any children, Clifford came home to the smoky Midlands to keep the Chatterley name alive while he could.
　　He was not really downcast. He could wheel himself about in a wheeled chair, and he had a bath-chair with a small motor attachment, so he could drive himself slowly round the garden and into the line melancholy park, of which he was really so proud, though he pretended to be flippant about it.
　　Having suffered so much, the capacity for suffering had to some extent left him. He remained strange and bright and cheerful, almost, one might say, chirpy, with his ruddy, healthy-looking face, and his paleblue, challenging bright eyes. His shoulders were broad and strong, his hands were very strong. He was expensively dressed, and wore handsome neckties from Bond Street. Yet still in his face one saw the watchful look, the slight vacancy of a cripple.
　　He had so very nearly lost his life, that what remained was wonderfully precious to him. It was obvious in the anxious brightness of his eyes, how proud he was, after the great shock, of being alive. But he had been so much hurt that something inside him had perished, some of his feelings had gone. There was a blank of insentience.
　　Constance, his wife, was a ruddy, country-looking girl with soft brown hair and sturdy body, and slow movements, full of unusual energy. She had big, wondering eyes, and a soft mild voice, and seemed just to have come from her native village. It was not so at all. Her father was the once well-known R. A., old Sir Malcolm Reid. Her mother had been one of the cultivated Fabians in the palmy, rather pre-Raphaelite days. Between artists and cultured socialists, Constance and her sister Hilda had what might be called an aesthetically unconventional upbringing. They had been taken to Paris and Florence and Rome to breathe in art, and they had been taken also in the other direction, to the Hague and Berlin, to great Socialist conventions, where the speakers spoke in every civilised tongue, and no one was abashed.
　　……

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