...And Now Miguel 牧童历险记 [平装] [8岁及以上] pdf epub mobi txt 电子书 下载 2025

简体网页||繁体网页

☆☆☆☆☆

Joseph Krumgold（约瑟夫·葛鲁姆哥德） 著

出版社： HarperCollins US

ISBN：9780064401432

商品编码：19004847

包装：平装

出版时间：1984-04-04

用纸：胶版纸

页数：256

正文语种：英文

商品尺寸：19.3x12.95x1.27cm

内容简介

He wanted to be treated like a man, not a child.

Every summer the men of the Chavez family go on a long and difficult sheep drive to the mountains. All the men, that is, except for Miguel. All year long, twelve-year-old Miguel tries to prove that he, too, is up to the challenge'that he, too, is up to the challenge'that he, too is ready to take the sheep into his beloved Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

When his deeds go unnoticed, he prays to San Ysidro, the saint for farmers everywhere. And his prayer is answered . . . but with devastating consequences.

When you act like an adult but get treated like a child, what else can you do but keep your wishes secret and pray that they'll come true.

This is the story of a twelve-year-old Miguel Chavez, who yearns in his heart to go with the men of his family on a long and hard sheep drive to the Sangre de Cristo Mountains--until his prayer is finally answered, with a disturbing and dangerous exchange.

作者简介

Joseph Krumgold received the Newbery Medal for ...And Now Miguel. One of the few people to receive the medal twice, he was subsequently awarded it for his novel Onion John,also available in a Harper Trophy edition.

内页插图

精彩书评

"A memorable and deeply moving story of a family of New Mexican sheepherders, in which Miguel, neither child nor man, tells of his great longing to accompany men and sheep to summer pasture, and expresses his need to be recognized as a maturing individual."
-- BL.

精彩书摘

CHAPTER ONE
It was love at first sight and I was astonished that it should be happening to me because the first sight had nothing in the least alluring about it. The roads from airports to cities rarely do. I was like a man who bewilders his friends by becoming infatuated with a particularly unprepossessing woman-warts and a squint and a harelip. 'What on earth does he see in her?' I've often wondered myself. What did I see in that dreary road which was taking me to Paris?
This sudden incomprehensible love affair might have been a little less mysterious if I had arrived in France with gooseflesh anticipations of romantic garrets and dangerous liaisons in them, the Latin Quarter and champagne at five francs a bottle, and artists' studios-all the preposterous sentimental paraphernalia from absinthe to midinettes. But I had not included any of these notions in my meagre luggage, I had no preliminary yearnings towards the country. Rather the contrary. In Australia I had spent much of my time with a young woman who had visited France just before the war and had gone down with a bad attack of what someone called 'French flu'. She babbled so fervently and persistently about France and Paris that she infected me with a perverse loathing for both.
The fact nonetheless inexplicably remains. A hundred yards from the airport we passed a café ('Le Looping', with the two o's aerobatically askew to make the point clear) and puppy love overwhelmed me-puppy love from which this old dog has not yet shaken himself free. 'Le Looping' and the handful of unremarkable customers sipping their drinks on the terrace instantaneously bewitched me.
I knew, with no rational justification, that I was in a country which for me was unlike any other country. It was as though some indigenous evangelist had caused me to be 'born again'.
One life abruptly ended and another began. There and then I shed my twenty-five years. To this day, in my own head and heart I am twenty-five years younger than the miserable reality.
The passengers in the airport bus were a drab lot. It was only eighteen months since the war had ended. There had not been much time to spruce up. In my besotted state, they seemed to me as fabulous as troubadours. The houses along the road were dismal little pavilions badly in need of a coat of paint. I gaped at them as if each one were the Chateau de Versailles. And in the distance the Eiffel Tower looked so impossibly like itself as depicted on a thousand postcards and a thousand amateur paintings that the sense of unreality which I had been feeling deepened still further.
What had brought me to Paris was my eagerness to visit a writer I had admired since my school days. He and his wife were to become two of my closest friends. We saw a great deal of each other in the years ahead-in Paris, in the South of France, in the Loire Valley. Of all the countless occasions on which we laughed together, argued, drank wine, loafed on a Mediterranean beach, listened to music, none was as sheerly magical as that first evening in Paris.
Our relationship took shape from the very beginning. We were already friends by the time we left their studio and strolled together down the Boulevard de Montparnasse. For some reason, twilight in Parts, then at least, was not like twilight in any other city. It enveloped you in a wonderful blue and golden luminosity and it had its own special unidentifiable perfume. That one-and-only twilight dreamily descending on us was so unlike anything I had known that I had my first vague glimpse of a mystery which was to become more and more apparent as time went by: Parts was the city of the unexpected. You always felt as though something extraordinary were about to happen. Sometimes it did, sometimes not; but the expectation never diminished. One went on waiting.
Twilight aside, most things were in short supply in 1947. Fortunately, the writer had been familiar with Paris for thirty years or more. He was already on the right sort of terms with the proprietor of an unassuming restaurant in one of the side streets. So we were served with a mixture of raw vegetables, a sorrel omelette (I can still recall the metallic taste of that sorrel) and, thanks to the proprietor's peasant brother, some wild duck. The wine was a muscular red with a powerful rasp to it but (a symptom of French flu?) I thought I had never drunk anything so delicious. It was served in cups as if we were in the prohibition speakeasy era because otherwise less privileged customers would have been clamouring for some and there wasn't any too much to be had.
Afterwards we walked back along the boulevard towards the studio. We stopped midway for a glass of brandy at the D?me. Tourists had not yet ventured to return to Paris. The other customers on the terrace were all French, completely nondescript but fascinating because they were French. There were practically no cars on the roads. Those there were either had great charcoal-burning furnaces fixed to the back or carried dirigible-like bags of gas on their roofs. Every so often a fiacre went clip-clopping past. The air was almost startling pure. The stars were sharply visible in a translucent sky. I turned to the man at the next table and asked him for a light-speaking French for the first time in my life. I managed to make three ludicrous grammatical blunders in the course of that one short sentence. If he was amused by my linguistic ineptitude he was too polite to show it. La politesse francaise-that still existed, too.

前言/序言

评分☆☆☆☆☆

　　京东商城自2004年初涉足电子商务领域以来，专注于该领域的长足发展，凭借在3C领域的深厚积淀，秉承“先人后企”的发展理念，奉行“合作、诚信、交友”的经营理念，先后组建了上海及广州全资子公司，富有战略远见地将华北、华东和华南三点连成一线，使全国大部分地区都覆盖在京东商城的物流配送网络之下；同时不断加强和充实公司的技术实力，改进并完善售后服务、物流配送及市场推广等各方面的软、硬件设施和服务条件。根据战略规划，京东商城将组建以北京、上海、广州和成都为中心的四大物流平台，以期能为全国用户提供更加快捷的配送服务，进一步深化和拓展公司的业务空间。JD logo JD logo

评分☆☆☆☆☆

不错的原版书

评分☆☆☆☆☆

　　

评分☆☆☆☆☆

书很满意，质量不错，装帧好，快递给力，京东的客服真不错。京东商城是中国B2C市场最大的3C网购专业平台。是中国电子商务领域最受消费者欢迎和最具影响力的电子商务网站之一。京东商城秉承“以人为本的服务理念，全程为个人用户和企业用户提供人性化的“亲情360”全方位服务，努力为用户创造亲切、轻松和愉悦的购物环境；不断丰富产品结构，以期最大化地满足消费者日趋多样的购物需求。相较于同类电子商务网站，京东商城拥有更为丰富的商品种类，并凭借更具竞争力的价格和逐渐完善的物流配送体系等各项优势，赢得市场占有率多年稳居行业首位的骄人成绩。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

儿童故事书

评分☆☆☆☆☆

等了好久

评分☆☆☆☆☆

　　

评分☆☆☆☆☆

评分☆☆☆☆☆

在爸妈wang看到活动300-150购入，很好的英文绘本