名著阅读

"And they took my milk!"The fat white circles of dough lined the pan in rows. Once more Sethe touched a wet forefinger tothe stove. She opened the oven door and slid the pan of biscuits in. As she raised up from the heatshe felt Paul D behind her and his hands under her breasts. She straightened up and knew, butcould not feel, that his cheek was pressing into the branches of her chokecherry tree.
Not even trying, he had become the kind of man who could walk into a house and make thewomen cry. Because with him, in his presence, they could. There was something blessed in hismanner. Women saw him and wanted to weep — to tell him that their chest hurt and their kneesdid too. Strong women and wise saw him and told him things they only told each other: that waypast the Change of Life, desire in them had suddenly become enormous, greedy, more savage thanwhen they were fifteen, and that it embarrassed them and made them sad; that secretly they longedto die — to be quit of it — that sleep was more precious to them than any waking day. Young girls sidled up to him to confess or describe how well-dressed the visitations were that had followedthem straight from their dreams. Therefore, although he did not understand why this was so, hewas not surprised when Denver dripped tears into the stovefire.

Nor, fifteen minutes later, aftertelling him about her stolen milk, her mother wept as well. Behind her, bending down, his body anarc of kindness, he held her breasts in the palms of his hands. He rubbed his cheek on her back andlearned that way her sorrow, the roots of it; its wide trunk and intricate branches. Raising hisfingers to the hooks of her dress, he knew without seeing them or hearing any sigh that the tearswere coming fast. And when the top of her dress was around her hips and he saw the sculpture herback had become, like the decorative work of an ironsmith too passionate for display, he couldthink but not say, "Aw, Lord, girl." And he would tolerate no peace until he had touched everyridge and leaf of it with his mouth, none of which Sethe could feel because her back skin had beendead for years. What she knew was that the responsibility for her breasts, at last, was in somebodyelse's hands.
"还抢走了我的奶水!"白胖的面圈在平底锅上排列成行。塞丝又一次用沾湿的食指碰了碰炉子。她打开烤箱门，把一锅面饼插进去。她刚刚起身离开烤箱的热气，就感觉到背后的保罗·D和托在她乳房下的双手。她站直身子，知道——却感觉不到——他正把脸埋进苦樱桃树的枝杈里。
几乎在不知不觉之间，他已经成为那种一进屋就能使女人哭泣的男人。有他相陪伴，当着他的面，她们就哭得出来。他的举止中有某种神圣的东西。女人们见了他就想流泪——向他诉说胸口和膝头的创伤。坚强的和智慧的女人见了他，将只有她们彼此间才说的事讲给他听：更年期早过了，她们内心的欲望却忽然间变得旺盛、贪婪起来，比十五岁的时候更狂野，让她们羞愧，也让她们悲哀；她们偷偷地渴望死去——以求得解脱——对她们来说睡去比任何醒着的日子都珍贵。年轻姑娘则羞怯地凑近他坦白心事，或者向他描述在梦中尾随她们的不速之客穿着多么漂亮的衣裳。所以，虽然他不明白究竟是怎么一回事，但当丹芙独对炉火垂泪时，他并不感到惊讶。

一刻钟之后，她的妈妈向他说完被掠走的奶水后同样啜泣的时候，他也不感到惊讶。他在她背后俯下身去，身体形成一道爱怜的弧线，手掌托起她的乳房。他用脸颊揉擦着她的后背，用这种方式感受她的悲伤，它的根，它巨大的主干和繁茂的枝杈。他把手指挪到裙子的挂钩上，不用看到眼泪，也不用听到一声叹息，便知道它们已汹涌而至。当裙子的上身褪下来围住她的臀部时，他看到她后背变成的雕塑，简直就像一个铁匠心爱得不愿示人的工艺品。他百感交集，一时说不出话来："噢，主啊，姑娘。"直到每一道隆起、每一片树叶都被他的嘴唇犁遍，他才平静下来，而这一切塞丝丝毫感觉不到，因为她背上的皮肤已死去多年了。她只知道，她双乳的负担终于落在了另一个人的手中。
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。