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內容簡介

"When I look back on my childhood, I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood. People everywhere brag or whimper about the woes of their early years, but nothing can compare with the Irish version: the poverty; the shiftless loquacious father; the pious defeated mother moaning by the fire; pompous priests; bullying shcoolmasters; the English and the terrible things they did to us for eight hundred long years. Above all we were wet!" So begins Frank McCourt's stunning memoir of his childhood in Ireland and America, a recollection of unvarnished truth and no self pity, of grinding poverty and indomitable spirit that will live in the memory long after the tape has ended. Now a major film directed by Alan Parker and starring Robert Carlyle and Emily Watson.

作者簡介

Frank McCourt (1930-2009) was born in in Brooklyn, New York, to Irish immigrant parents, grew up in Limerick, Ireland, and returned to America in 1949. For thirty years he taught in New York City high schools. His first book, Angela's Ashes, won the Pulitzer Prize, the National Book Critics Circle Award and the L.A. Times Book Award. In 2006, he won the prestigious Ellis Island Family Heritage Award for Exemplary Service in the Field of the Arts and the United Federation of Teachers John Dewey Award for Excellence in Education.

精彩書評

"Frank McCourt's gentle, understated voice throws into relief the admirable humour, spirit and humanity of the people who made the degradation of his childhood bearable."
--Gramophone

精彩書摘

Chapter IV
First Communion day is the happiest day of your life because of The Collectionand James Cagney at the Lyric Cinema. The night before I was so excited Icouldn't sleep till dawn. I'd still be sleeping if my grandmother hadn't come banging at the door.
Get up! Get up! Get that child outa the bed. Happiest day of his life an' him snorin' above in the bed.
I ran to the kitchen. Take off that shirt, she said. I took off the shirt and she pushed me into a tin tub of icy cold water. My mother scrubbed me, my grandmother scrubbed me. I was raw, I was red.
They dried me. They dressed me in my black velvet First Communion suit with the white frilly shirt, the short pants, the white stockings, the black patent leather shoes. Around my arm they tied a white satin bow and on my lapel theypinned the Sacred Heart of Jesus, a picture with blood dripping from it, flames erupting all around it and on top a nasty-looking crown of thorns.
Come here till I comb your hair, said Grandma. Look at that mop, it won't lie down. You didn't get that hair from my side of the family. That's that North of Ireland hair you got from your father. That's the kind of hair you see on Presbyterians. If your mother had married a proper decent Limerickman you wouldn't have this standing up, North of Ireland, Presbyterian hair.
She spat twice on my head.
Grandma, will you please stop spitting on my head.
If you have anything to say, shut up. A little spit won't kill you. Come on, we'll be late for the Mass.
We ran to the church. My mother panted along behind with Michael in her arms. We arrived at the church just in time to see the last of the boys leaving the altar rail where the priest stood with the chalice and the host, glaring at me. Then he placed on my tongue the wafer, the body and blood of Jesus. At last, at last.
It's on my tongue. I draw it back.
It stuck.
I had God glued to the roof of my mouth. I could hear the master's voice, Don't let that host touch your teeth for if you bite God in two you'll roast in hell for eternity. I tried to get God down with my tongue but the priest hissed at me, Stop that clucking and get back to your seat. God was good. He melted and I swallowed Him and now, at last, I was a member of the True Church, an official sinner.
When the Mass ended there they were at the door of the church, my mother with Michael in her arms, my grandmother. They each hugged me to their bosoms. They each told me it was the happiest day of my life. They each cried all over my head and after my grandmother's contribution that morning my head was a swamp.
Mam, can I go now and make The Collection?
She said, After you have a little breakfast.
No, said Grandma.You're not making no collection till you have a proper FirstCommunion breakfast at my house. Come on.
We followed her. She banged pots and rattled pans and complained that the whole world expected her to be at their beck and call. I ate the egg, I ate the sausage, and when I reached for more sugar for my tea she slapped my hand away.
Go aisy with that sugar. Is it a millionaire you think I am? An American? Is it bedecked in glitterin' jewelry you think I am? Smothered in fancyfurs?
The food churned in my stomach. I gagged. I ran to her backyard and threw it all up. Out she came.
Look at what he did. Thrun up his First Communion breakfast. Thrun up the bodyand blood of Jesus. I have God in me backyard. What am I goin' to do? I'll takehim to the Jesuits for they know the sins of the Pope himself.
She dragged me through the streets of Limerick. She told the neighbors andpassing strangers about God in her backyard. She pushed me into the confessionbox.
In the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Ghost. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's a day since my last confession.
A day? And what sins have you committed in a day, my child?
I overslept. I nearly missed my First Communion. My grandmother said I have standing up, North of Ireland, Presbyterian hair. I threw up my First Communion breakfast. Now Grandma says she has God in her backyard and what should she do.
The priest is like the First Confession priest. He has the heavy breathing andthe choking sounds.
Ah...ah...tell your grandmother to wash God away with a little water and for your penance say one Hail Mary and one Our Father. Say a prayer for me and God bless you, my child.
Grandma and Mam were waiting close to the confession box. Grandma said, Were you telling jokes to that priest in the confession box? If 'tis a thing I everfind out you were telling jokes to Jesuits I'll tear the bloody kidneys outayou. Now what did he say about God in my backyard?
He said wash Him away with a little water, Grandma.
Holy water or ordinary water?
He didn't say, Grandma.
Well, go back and ask him.
But, Grandma...
She pushed me back into the confessional.
Bless me, Father, for I have sinned, it's a minute since my last confession.
A minute! Are you the boy that was just here?
I am, Father.
What is it now?
My grandma says, Holy water or ordinary water?
Ordinary water, and tell your grandmother not to be bothering me again.
I told her, Ordinary water, Grandma, and he said don't be bothering him again.
Don't be bothering him again. That bloody ignorant bogtrotter.
I asked Mam, Can I go now and make The Collection? I want to see James Cagney.
Grandma said, You can forget about The Collection and James Cagney becauseyou're not a proper Catholic the way you left God on the ground. Come on, go home.
Mam said, wait a minute. That's my son. That's my son on his First Communion day. He's going to see James Cagney.
No he's not.
Yes he is.
Grandma said, Take him then to James Cagney and see if that will save hisPresbyterian North of Ireland American soul. Go ahead.
She pulled her shawl around her and walked away.
Mam said, God, it's getting very late for The Collection and you'll neversee James Cagney. We'll go to the Lyric Cinema and see if they'll let you in anyway in your First Communion suit. We met Mikey Molloy on Barrington Street. He asked if I was going to the Lyric and I said I was trying. Trying? he said. You don't have money? I was ashamed to say no but I had to and he said, That's all right. I'll get you in. I'll create a diversion.
What's a diversion?
I have the money to go and when I get in I'll pretend to have the fit andthe ticket man will be out of his mind and you can slip in when I let out the big scream. I'll be watching the door and when I see you in I'll have a miraculous recovery. That's a diversion. That's what I do to get my brothers in all the time.
Mam said, Oh, I don't know about that, Mikey. Wouldn't that be a sin and surelyyou wouldn't want Frank to commit a sin on his Communion day.
Mikey said if there was a sin it would be on his soul and he wasn't a proper Catholic anyway so it didn't matter. He let out his scream and I slipped in and sat next to Question Quigley and the ticket man, Frank Goggin, was so worried over Mikey he never noticed. It was a thrilling film b Angela's Ashes[安吉拉的灰燼] 英文原版 [平裝] 下載 mobi epub pdf txt 電子書

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希望你能越做越好，成長有你有我大傢一起來，很好的寶貝。

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不錯老婆很喜歡的

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兒子班裏統一讓買的，他說一開始介紹的部分讀著有些吃力，後邊就簡單些瞭。適閤初中生閱讀的一本書。

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好

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原版書,超值給力,很好

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盜版書也這麼貴

評分☆☆☆☆☆

兒子班裏統一讓買的，他說一開始介紹的部分讀著有些吃力，後邊就簡單些瞭。適閤初中生閱讀的一本書。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

太貴瞭

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發貨及物流超快，第二天到貨 上周周六，閑來無事，上午上瞭一個上午網，想起好久沒買書瞭，似乎我買書有點上癮，一段時間不逛書店就周身不爽，難道男人逛書店就象女人逛商場似的上癮？於是下樓吃瞭碗麵，這段時間非常冷，還下這雨，到書店主要目的是買一大堆書，上次專程去買卻被告知缺貨，這次應該可以買到瞭吧。可是到一樓的查詢處問，小姐卻說昨天剛到的一批又賣完瞭！暈！為什麼不多進點貨，於是上京東挑選書。好瞭，廢話不說。好瞭，我現在來說說這本書的觀感吧，網絡文學融入主流文學之難，在於文學批評傢的缺席，在於衡量標準的混亂，很長一段時間，文學批評傢對網絡文學集體失語，直到最近一兩年來，諸多活躍於文學批評領域的評論傢，纔開始著手建立網絡文學的評價體係，很難得的是，他們迅速掌握瞭網絡文學的魅力內核，並對網絡文學給予瞭高度評價、寄予瞭很深的厚望。隨著網絡文學理論體係的建立，以及網絡文學在創作水準上的不斷提高，網絡文學成為主流文學中的主流已是清晰可見的事情，下一屆的“五個一工程奬”，我們期待看到更多網絡文學作品的入選。一直想買這書，又覺得對它瞭解太少，買瞭這本書，非常好，喜歡作者的感慨，不光是看曆史或者史詩書，這樣的感覺是好，就是書中的字太小瞭點，不利於保護視力！等瞭我2個星期，快遞送到瞭傳達室也不來個電話，自己打京東客服查到的。書是正版。現在，京東域名正式更換為JDCOM。其中的“JD”是京東漢語拼音（JING DON|G）首字母組閤。從此，您不用再特意記憶京東的域名，也無需先搜索再點擊，隻要在瀏覽器輸入JD.COM，即可方便快捷地訪問京東，實現輕鬆購物。名為“Joy”的京東吉祥物我很喜歡，TA承載著京東對我們的承諾和努力。狗以對主人忠誠而著稱，同時也擁有正直的品行，和快捷的奔跑速度。太喜愛京東瞭。|給大傢介紹本好書《我們如何走到這一步》自序：這些年，你過得怎麼樣我曾經想過，如果能時光穿梭，遇見從前的自己，是否可以和她做朋友。但我審慎地不敢發錶意見。因為從前的自己是多麼無知，這件事是很清楚的。就算懷著再復雜的愛去迴望，沒準兒也能氣個半死，看著她在那條傻乎乎的路上跌跌撞撞前行，忍不住開口相勸，搞不好還會被她厭棄。你看天下的事情往往都是一廂情願。當然我也忍住瞭各種吐槽，人總是要給自己留餘地的，因為還有一種可能是，未來的自己迴望現在，看見的還是一個人。好在現在不敢輕易放狠話瞭，所以總算顯得比年輕的時候還有一分從容。但不管什麼時候的你，都是你。這時間軸上反復上演的就是打怪獸的過程。過去睏擾你的事情，現在已可輕易解決，但往往還有更大的boss在前麵等你。“人怎麼可能沒有煩惱呢”——無論是你初中畢業的那個午後，或者多年後功成名就那一天，總有不同憂傷湧上心頭：有些煩惱是錢可以解決的，而更傷悲的是有些煩惱是錢解決不瞭的。我們曾經在年少時想象的“等到什麼什麼的時候就一切都好起來瞭”根本就是個謬論。所以，隻能咬著牙繼續朝前走吧。

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