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| 編輯推薦： |
19 世纪英国最伟大的作家之一狄更斯巅峰之作
最伟大的批判现实主义杰作之一
冤狱、复仇、爱情的完美融合
再现法国大革命风暴中的巴黎与伦敦
一个惊心动魄的时代 一段荡气回肠的历史
最佳的文学经典读物 最好的语言学习读本
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| 內容簡介： |
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《双城记》是狄更斯最著名的作品之一，是19世纪现实主义文学的杰出代表作品，对英国乃至世界文学都具有深远影响，书名中的“双城”指的是巴黎与伦敦。小说分3部，共45章，以法国大革命为背景，再现了那时的巴黎和伦敦以及整个法兰西和英格兰的历史面貌，并以虚构人物曼内特医生的经历为主线索，围绕着曼内特医生一家和以德伐日夫妇为首的圣安托万区，把冤狱、爱情与复仇三个互相独立而又互相关联的故事交织在一起。小说的意义在于借古讽今，以法国大革命的历史经验为启发，试图用文学为当时矛盾日益加深的英国社会寻找一条出路。
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| 關於作者： |
查尔斯·狄更斯（Charles
Dickens，1812—1870），英国维多利亚时期的著名小说家，19世纪英国现实主义文学的主要代表。他一生共创作了14部长篇小说，许多中短篇小说和杂文、游记、戏剧、小品。其作品广泛而深刻地描写社会生活的各个方面，鲜明而生动地刻画各阶层的代表人物形象，对各种丑恶的社会现象进行揭露批判。他既对劳动人民的苦难及反抗斗争表达同情，又反对暴力革命。他的小说风格肃穆沉郁，结构完整严密，情节曲折紧张而富有戏剧性，表现了卓越的艺术技巧。
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| 目錄：
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Prelhce
Book the First Recalled to Life
I The Period
II The Mail
III TheNight Shadows
IV The Preparation
V The Wine—Shop
VI The Shoemaker
Book the Second The Golden Thread
I FiveYears Later
II ASight
III ADisappointment
IV Congratulatory
V The Jackal
VI Hundreds ofPeople
VII MonseigneurinTown
VIII MonseigneurintheCountry
IX The Gorgon’S Head
X Two Promises
XI A CompanionPicture
XII The Fellow ofDelicacy
XIII The Fellow OfNo Delicacy
XIV The HonestTradesman
XV Knifing
XVI Still Knifing
XVII OneNight
XVIII Nine Days
XIX An Opinion
XX APlea
XXI Echoing Footsteps
XXII The Sea Still Rises
XXIII Fire Rises
XXIV DrawntotheLoadstoneRock
Book the Third The Track of a Storm
I In Secret
II The Grindstone
III The Shadow
IV Calm in Storm
V The W00d—Sawyer
VI Triumph
VIl AKnock attheDoor
VIII AHand atCards
IX The Game Made
X The Substance ofthe Shadow
XI Dusk
XII Darkness
XIII Fifty—TW0
XIV The Knifing Done
XV The Footsteps Die 0ut For Ever
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| 內容試閱：
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It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was
the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch
of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of
Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it
was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had
nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all
going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the
present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on
its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree
of comparison only.
There were a king with a large jaw and a queen with a plain face,
on the throne of England; there were a king with a large jaw and a
queen with a fair face, on the throne of France. In both countries
it was clearer than crystal to the lords of the State preserves of
loaves and fishes, that things in general were settled for
ever.
It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and
seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at
that favoured period, as at this. Mrs.
Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth blessed
birthday, of whom a prophetic private in the Life Guards had
heralded the sublime appearance by announcing that arrangements
were made for the swallowing up of London and Westminster. Even the
Cocklane ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after
rapping out its messages, as the spirits of this very year last
past supernaturally deficient in originality rapped out theirs.
Mere messages in the earthly order of events had lately come to the
English Crown and People, from a congress of British subjects in
America: which, strange to relate, have proved more important to
the human race than any communications yet received through any of
the chickens of the Cock-lane brood.
France, less favoured on the whole as to matters spiritual than
her sister of the shield and trident, rolled with exceeding
smoothness down hill, making paper money and spending it. Under the
guidance of her Christian pastors, she entertained herself,
besides, with such humane achievements as sentencing a youth to
have his hands cut off, his tongue torn out with pincers, and his
body burned alive, because he had not kneeled down in the rain to
do honour to a dirty procession of monks which passed within his
view, at a distance of some fifty or sixty yards. It is likely
enough that, rooted in the woods of France and Norway, there were
growing trees, when that sufferer was put to death, already marked
by the Woodman, Fate, to come down and be sawn into boards, to make
a certain movable framework with a sack and a knife in it, terrible
in history. It is likely enough that in the rough outhouses of some
tillers of the heavy lands adjacent to Paris, there were sheltered
from the weather that very day, rude carts, bespattered with rustic
mire, snuffed about by pigs, and roosted in by poultry, which the
Farmer, Death, had already set apart to be his tumbrils of the
Revolution. But that Woodman and that Farmer, though they work
unceasingly, work silently, and no one heard them as they went
about with muffled tread: the rather, forasmuch as to entertain any
suspicion that they were awake, was to be atheistical and
traitorous.
……
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