名著阅读

Would there be a little space, she wondered, a little time, some way to hold off eventfulness, topush busyness into the corners of the room and just stand there a minute or two, naked fromshoulder blade to waist, relieved of the weight of her breasts, smelling the stolen milk again andthe pleasure of baking bread? Maybe this one time she could stop dead still in the middle of acooking meal — not even leave the stove — and feel the hurt her back ought to. Trust things andremember things because the last of the Sweet Home men was there to catch her if she sank?
The stove didn't shudder as it adjusted to its heat. Denver wasn't stirring in the next room. Thepulse of red light hadn't come back and Paul D had not trembled since 1856 and then for eighty-three days in a row. Locked up and chained down, his hands shook so bad he couldn't smoke oreven scratch properly. Now he was trembling again but in the legs this time. It took him a while torealize that his legs were not shaking because of worry, but because the floorboards were and thegrinding, shoving floor was only part of it. The house itself was pitching. Sethe slid to the floorand struggled to get back into her dress. While down on all fours, as though she were holding herhouse down on the ground, Denver burst from the keeping room, terror in her eyes, a vague smileon her lips.
"God damn it! Hush up!" Paul D was shouting, falling, reaching for anchor. "Leave the placealone! Get the hell out!" A table rushed toward him and he grabbed its leg. Somehow he managedto stand at an angle and, holding the table by two legs, he bashed it about, wrecking everything,screaming back at the screaming house. "Youwant to fight, come on! God damn it! She got enough without you. She got enough!"The quaking slowed to an occasional lurch, but Paul D did not stop whipping the table around untileverything was rock quiet. Sweating and breathing hard, he leaned against the wall in the space thesideboard left. Sethe was still crouched next to the stove, clutching her salvaged shoes to her chest.
是否有一小块空间，一小段时光，她纳闷，有可能远离坎坷，把劳碌抛向屋角，只是赤裸上身站上片刻，卸下乳房的重荷，重新闻到被掠走的奶水，感受烤面包的乐趣？也许就是这回，在做饭的时候，她能够僵止不动——甚至不离开炉子——感受她的后背本该感受到的疼痛。难道在她沉沦的时候，有最后一个"甜蜜之家"的男人来拉她一把，她就该信任，就该重新记起吗？
炉子在适应自己的高温时没有抖动。隔壁的丹芙没有动静。红光的搏动没有回来。而自打1856年起，一连串抖了整整八十三天以后，保罗·D就一直没再哆嗦过。那时，手铐和脚镣加身，他的手抖得那么厉害，以至于不能抽烟，甚至不能正常地抓痒。此刻，他又一次哆嗦起来，不过这次是腿上。他过了一会儿才搞明白，他的双腿不是因为焦虑在颤抖，而是随着地板在抖动，并且转动和滑移的地板又仅仅是其中的一部分。是这栋房子整个在颠簸。塞丝滑倒在地，挣扎着穿衣服。她四肢匍匐着地，像要把她的房子按在地上。这时，丹芙从起居室里冲出来，满眼恐惧，嘴唇上却挂着一丝隐约的微笑。
"该死的!停下来!"保罗·D一面吼着，一面跌跌撞撞地去抓扶手。"别在这儿捣蛋!滚出去!"一张桌子向他扑来，他抓住了桌腿。他勉强站成了一个角度，举起桌子四处乱砸一气，毁坏每一样东西，冲着尖叫的房子尖叫。"想打架吗？来吧!妈的!没有你她已经够受的了。她受够了!"地震减弱为余震，但保罗·D并未停止四处乱舞桌子，直到一切都死一般寂静。他靠在墙上碗柜腾出的地方，大汗淋漓，喘着粗气。塞丝仍旧蜷缩在炉子旁，将抢救出来的两只鞋子抱在胸前。
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。