名著阅读

Paul D looked at the girl and then at Sethe who smiled saying, "Here she is my Denver. This isPaul D, honey, from Sweet Home.""Good morning, Mr. D.""Garner, baby. Paul D Garner.""Yes sir.""Glad to get a look at you. Last time I saw your mama, you were pushing out the front of herdress.""Still is," Sethe smiled, "provided she can get in it."
Denver stood on the bottom step and was suddenly hot and shy. It had been a long time sinceanybody (good-willed whitewoman, preacher, speaker or newspaperman) sat at their table, theirsympathetic voices called liar by the revulsion in their eyes. For twelve years, long beforeGrandma Baby died, there had been visitors of any sort and certainly no friends.

Nocoloredpeople.Certainlynohazelnutman(no) with too long hair and no notebook, no charcoal, nooranges, no questions. Someone her mother wanted to talk to and would even consider talking towhile barefoot. Looking, in fact acting, like a girl instead of the quiet, queenly woman Denver hadknown all her life. The one who never looked away, who when a man got stomped to death by amare right in front of Sawyer's restaurant did not look away; and when a sow began eating her ownlitter did not look away then either. And when the baby's spirit picked up Here Boy and slammedhim into the wall hard enough to break two of his legs and dislocate his eye, so hard he went intoconvulsions and chewed up his tongue, still her mother had not looked away. She had taken ahammer, knocked the dog unconscious, wiped away the blood and saliva, pushed his eye back inhis head and set his leg bones. He recovered, mute and off-balance, more because of hisuntrustworthy eye than his bent legs, and winter, summer, drizzle or dry, nothing could persuadehim to enter the house again.
Now here was this woman with the presence of mind to repair a dog gone savage with painrocking her crossed ankles and looking away from her own daughter's body. As though the size ofit was more than vision could bear. And neither she nor he had on shoes. Hot, shy, now Denverwas lonely. All that leaving: first her brothers, then her grandmother — serious losses since therewere no children willing to circle her in a game or hang by their knees from her porch railing.
None of that had mattered as long as her mother did not look away as she was doing now, makingDenver long, downright long, for a sign of spite from the baby ghost.
保罗·D看看女孩，又看看塞丝。塞丝笑吟吟地说："瞧，这就是我的丹芙。这是-甜蜜之家-的保罗·D，亲爱的。" "早安，D先生。" "加纳，宝贝儿。保罗·D.加纳。" "是，先生。" "很高兴见到你。我上次见你妈妈的时候，你正从她裙子里面往外拱呢。" "如今也一样，"塞丝笑道，"要是她还能钻回去的话。"
丹芙站在最低一磴楼梯上，突然间又烫又羞。好久没有什么人（好心的白女人、牧师、演说家或是报社记者——他们眼中的反感证明他们同情的声音不过是谎言）来坐在她们家的桌子旁边了。远在贝比奶奶去世以前，整整十二年时间里，从没有过任何一种来访者，当然也就没有朋友。

没有黑人。当然更没有头发这么长的榛色男人，更没有笔记本，没有炭煤，没有橙子，没有一大堆问题。没有妈妈愿意与之交谈的人，甚至光着脚也居然情愿与之交谈的人。妈妈看起来好像——实际上装成——个小姑娘，而不是丹芙一直熟识的那个安静的、王后般的女人。那个从不旁视的女人，看到一个人就在索亚餐馆门前被母马踢死也不把脸扭开的女人；看到一只母猪开始吃自己的幼崽时也不把脸扭开的女人。就是那一次，"来，小鬼"被婴儿的鬼魂提起来狠狠地扔到墙上，摔得它断了两条腿，眼睛错位，浑身抽搐，嚼碎了自己的舌头，她的妈妈也仍然没有把脸扭开。她抄起一把榔头把狗打昏，擦去血迹和唾沫，把眼睛按回脑袋，接好腿骨。后来它痊愈了，成了哑巴，走路摇摇摆摆的，不仅因为弯曲的腿，更因为不中用的眼睛。无论冬夏，不分晴雨，什么也不能说服它再走进这房子一次。
就是这个女人，当年有本事去修理一只疼得撒野的狗，现在正架起腿晃悠着，将视线从她自己女儿的身体上移开，好像视野里根本容不下她的身量似的。而且她和他谁都没有穿鞋。又发烫，又害羞，现在丹芙是孤独的。所有那些离去的——先是哥哥们，然后是奶奶——都是惨重的损失，因为再没有小孩愿意围着她做游戏，或者弯着腿倒挂在她家门廊的栏杆上悠来荡去了。
那些都没有关系，只要她妈妈别再像现在这样把脸扭开，搞得丹芙渴望，由衷地渴望一个来自那个婴儿鬼魂的怨恨的表示。
背景阅读

本书简介：

《宠儿》是托妮·莫里森最震撼人心、最成熟的代表作，现已经成为当代文学史上不朽的经典，也是美国文学史上最畅销的作品之一。小说完成于1987年，1988年即获得美国普利策小说奖。2006年《纽约时报》召集125位知名作家、评论家、编辑及文坛泰斗等选出自己心目中“25年来最佳美国小说”，《宠儿》得票最高，名列第一。

“你的爱太浓了！”——一个不可能重复的故事！！！
女黑奴塞丝怀着身孕只身从肯塔基的奴隶庄园逃到俄亥俄，奴隶主循踪追至；为了使儿女不再重复自己做奴隶的悲惨命运，她毅然杀死了自己刚刚会爬的幼女宠儿……十八年后宠儿还魂重返人间，和塞丝、塞丝的女儿丹芙以及塞丝的情人保罗•D生活在同一幢房子里。她不但加倍地向母亲索取着爱，甚至纠缠和引诱保罗•D，不择手段地扰乱和摧毁母亲刚刚回暖的生活……全书充满苦涩的诗意和紧张的悬念。

作者简介：

托妮·莫里森，美国当代最重要的女作家之一。1931年生于美国俄亥俄州，曾担任兰登书屋编辑、资深编辑，1989年起任普林斯顿大学教授。主要代表作有《最蓝的眼睛》、《秀拉》、《所罗门之歌》、《宠儿》、《爵士乐》、《天堂》等，曾获美国普利策小说奖、美国图书评论协会奖等多项大奖。1993年获诺贝尔文学奖，是历史上得此殊荣的唯一黑人女作家。