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內容簡介

At once a fiendishly devious mystery, a beguiling love story, and a brilliant symposium on the power of art, My Name Is Red is a transporting tale set amid the splendor and religious intrigue of sixteenth-century Istanbul, from one of the most prominent contemporary Turkish writers.

The Sultan has commissioned a cadre of the most acclaimed artists in the land to create a great book celebrating the glories of his realm. Their task: to illuminate the work in the European style. But because figurative art can be deemed an affront to Islam, this commission is a dangerous proposition indeed. The ruling elite therefore mustn’t know the full scope or nature of the project, and panic erupts when one of the chosen miniaturists disappears. The only clue to the mystery–or crime? –lies in the half-finished illuminations themselves. Part fantasy and part philosophical puzzle, My Name is Red is a kaleidoscopic journey to the intersection of art, religion, love, sex and power.

作者簡介

Orhan Pamuk was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2006. The author of The Museum of Innocence, Istanbul, and Snow, he lives in Istanbul and New York City.

目錄

MAP
AM A CORPSE
AM CALLED BLACK
AMA DOG
WILL BE CALLED A MURDERER
AM YOUR BELOVED UNCLE
AM ORHAN
AM CALLED BLACK
AM ESTHER
SHEKURE
AMATREE
AM CALLED BLACK
AM CALLED "BUTTE RFLY
AM CALLED "STORK"
AM CALLED "OLIVE"
AM ESTHER
……
T IS I.MASTER OSMAN
AM CALLED BLACK
AM ESTHER
AM AWOMAN
AM CALLED "BUTTERELY"

精彩書摘

Chapter 1
I Am a Corpse
I am nothing but a corpse now, a body at the bottom of a well.Although I drew my last breath long ago and my heart has stoppedbeating, no one, apart from that vile murderer, knows what'shappened to me. As for that wretch, he felt for my pulse andlistened for my breath to be sure I was dead, then kicked me in themidriff, carried me to the edge of the well, raised me up anddropped me below. As I fell, my head, which he had smashed with astone, broke apart; my face, my forehead and cheeks, were crushed;my bones shattered, and my mouth filled with blood.
For nearly four days I have been missing: My wife and childrenmust be searching for me; my daughter, spent from crying, must bestaring fretfully at the courtyard gate. Yes, I know they're all atthe window, hoping for my return.
But, are they truly waiting? I can't even be sure of that. Maybethey've gotten used to my absence-how dismal! For here, on theother side, one gets the feeling that one's former life persists.Before my birth there was infinite time, and after my death,inexhaustible time. I never thought of it before: I'd been livingluminously between two eternities of darkness.
I was happy; I realize now that I'd been happy. I made the bestilluminations in Our Sultan's workshop; no one could rival mymastery. Through the work I did privately, I earned nine hundredsilver coins a month, which, naturally, only makes all this evenharder to bear.
I was responsible for painting and embellishing books. Iilluminated the edges of pages, coloring their borders with themost lifelike designs of leaves, branches, roses, flowers andbirds. I painted scalloped Chinese-style clouds, clusters ofoverlapping vines and forests of color that hid gazelles, galleys,sultans, trees, palaces, horses and hunters. In my youth, I woulddecorate a plate, or the back of a mirror, or a chest, or at times,the ceiling of a mansion or of a Bosphorus manor, or even, a woodenspoon. In later years, however, I applied myself only to manuscriptpages because Our Sultan paid well for them. I can't say it seemsinsignificant now. You know the value of money even when you'redead.
After hearing the miracle of my voice, you might think, "Whocares what you earned when you were alive? Tell us what you cansee. Is there life after death? Where's your soul? What aboutHeaven and Hell? What is death like? Are you in pain?" You'reright, people are extremely curious about the Afterlife. Maybeyou've heard the story of the man who was so driven by thiscuriosity that he roamed among soldiers in battlefields. He soughta man who had died and returned to life amid the wounded strugglingfor their lives in pools of blood, a soldier who could tell himabout the secrets of the Otherworld. But one of Tamerlane'swarriors, taking the seeker for one of the enemy, cleared him inhalf with a smooth stroke of his scimitar, causing him to concludethat in the Hereafter man is split in two.
Nonsense! Quite the opposite, I'd even allege that souls dividedin life merge in the Hereafter. Contrary to the claims of sinfulinfidels who have fallen under the sway of the Devil, there isindeed another world, thank God, and the proof is that I amspeaking to you from here. I've died, but as you can plainly tell,I haven't ceased to be. Granted, I must confess, I haven'tencountered the rivers flowing beside the silver and gold kiosks ofHeaven, the broad-leaved trees bearing plump fruit and thebeautiful virgins mentioned in the Glorious Koran-though I do verywell recall how often and enthusiastically I made pictures of thosewide-eyed houris described in the chapter "That Which Is Coming."Nor is there a trace of those rivers of milk, wine, fresh water andhoney described with such flourish, not in the Koran, but byvisionary dreamers like Ibn Arabi. But I have no intention oftempting the faith of those who live rightly through their hopesand visions of the Otherworld, so let me declare that all I've seenrelates specifically to my own very personal circumstances. Anybeliever with even a little knowledge of life after death wouldknow that a malcontent in my state would be hard-pressed to see therivers of Heaven.
In short, I, who am known as Master Elegant Effendi, am dead, buthave not been interred, therefore my soul has not completely leftmy body. This extraordinary situation, although naturally my caseis not the first, has inflicted a horrible suffering upon theimmortal part of me. Though I cannot feel my crushed skull or mydecomposing body covered in wounds, full of broken bones andpartially submerged in ice-cold water, I do feel the deep tormentof my soul struggling desperately to escape its mortal coil. It'sas if the whole world, along with my body, were contracting into abolus of anguish.
I can only compare this contraction to the surprising sense ofrelease I felt during the unequaled moment of my death. Yes, Iinstantly understood that that wretch wanted to kill me when heunexpectedly struck me with a stone and cracked my skull, but Ididn't believe he'd be able to follow through. I suddenly realizedI was a hopeful man, something I hadn't been aware of while livingmy life in the shadows between workshop and household. I clungpassionately to life with my nails, my fingers and my teeth, whichI sank into his skin. I won't bore you with the painful details ofthe subsequent blows I received.
When in the course of this agony I knew I would die, anincredible feeling of relief filled me. I felt this relief duringthe moment of departure; my arrival to this side was soothing, likethe dream of seeing oneself asleep. The snow- and mud-covered shoesof my murderer were the last things I noticed. I closed my eyes asif I were going to sleep, and I gently passed over.
My present complaint isn't that my teeth have fallen like nutsinto my bloody mouth, or even that my face has been maimed beyondrecognition, or that I've been abandoned in the depths of awell-it's that everyone assumes I'm still alive. My troubled soulis anguished that my family and intimates, who, yes, think of meoften, imagine me engaged in some trivial business somewhere inIstanbul, or even chasing after another woman. Enough! Find my bodywithout delay, pray for me and have me buried. Above all, find mymurderer! For even if you bury me in the most magnificent of tombs,so long as that wretch remains free, I'll writhe restlessly in mygrave, waiting, infecting you all with faithlessness. Find thatson-of-a-whore murderer and I'll tell you in detail just what I seein the Afterlife-but know this, when he's caught, he must betortured by slowly splintering eight or ten of his bones,preferably his ribs with a vise, before piercing his scalp withthose skewers made especially for the task by torturers, andplucking out his disgusting, oily hair, strand by strand, so heshrieks each time.
Who is this murderer who vexes me so? Why has he killed me inthis surprising way? Be curious and mindful of such matters. Yousay the world is full of base and worthless criminals? Perhaps thisone did it, perhaps that one? In that case let me caution you: Mydeath conceals an appalling conspiracy against our religion, ourtraditions and the way we see the world. Open your eyes, discoverwhy the enemies of the life in which you believe, of the lifeyou're living, and of Islam, ha My Name Is Red 我的名字叫紅 英文原版 [平裝] 下載 mobi epub pdf txt 電子書

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③我們的教師為瞭控製課堂，總擔心秩序失控而嚴格紀律，導緻緊張有餘而輕鬆不足。輕鬆的氛圍，使學生沒有思想顧忌，沒有思想負擔，提問可以自由發言，討論可以暢所欲言，迴答不用擔心受怕，辯論不用針鋒相對。同學們的任何猜想、幻想、設想都受到尊重、都盡可能讓他們自己做解釋，在聆聽中交流想法、

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我看瞭這本書籍很好，有不錯的感想。認真學習瞭這本書，給我幾個感受

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非常非常好

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很好的書，正版價格也劃算，滿意！讀書可以使自己的知識得到積纍，君子學以聚之。總之，愛好讀書是好事。讓我們都來讀書吧。 其實讀書有很多好處,就等有心人去慢慢發現. 最大的好處是可以讓你有屬於自己的本領靠自己生存。 讓你的生活過得更充實，學習到不同的東西。高爾基先生說過：“書籍是人類進步的階梯。”書還能帶給你許多重要的好處。 多讀書，可以讓你覺得有許多的寫作靈感。可以讓你在寫作文的方法上用的更好。在寫作的時候，我們往往可以運用一些書中的好詞好句和生活哲理。讓彆人覺得你更富有文采，美感。 多讀書，可以讓你全身都有禮節。俗話說：“第一印象最重要。”從你留給彆人的第一印象中，就可以讓彆人看齣你是什麼樣的人。所以多讀書可以讓人感覺你知書答禮，頗有風度。 多讀書，可以讓你多增加一些課外知識。培根先生說過：“知識就是力量。”不錯，多讀書，增長瞭課外知識，可以讓你感到渾身充滿瞭一股力量。這種力量可以激勵著你不斷地前進，不斷地成長

評分☆☆☆☆☆

④關係和諧，纔能有輕鬆愉快；關係融洽，纔能夠民主平等。生生和諧、師生和諧、環境和諧、氛圍和諧，都需要教師的大度、風度與氣度。與同行斤斤計較，對學生寸步不讓，艱難有和諧的課堂。和諧的關鍵在

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還沒開始讀，看上去很不錯，期待中。。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

⑤教學生抓重點.教學難免有意外，課堂難免有突變，應對教學意外、課堂突變的本領，就是我們通常說的駕馭課堂、駕馭學生的能力。對教師來說，讓意外乾擾教學、影響教學是無能，把意外變成生成，促進教學、改進教學是藝術。生成相對於教學預設而言，分有意生成、無意生成兩種類型；問題生成、疑問生成、答案生成、靈感生成、思維生成、模式生成六種形式。生成的重點在問題生成、靈感生成。教學機智顯亮點.隨機應變的纔智與機敏，最能贏得學生欽佩和行贊嘆的亮點。教學機智的類型分為教師教的機智、學生學的機智，師生互動的機智，學生探究的機智。機智常常錶現在應對質疑的解答，麵對難題的措施，發現問題的敏銳，解決問題的靈活。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

④關係和諧，纔能有輕鬆愉快；關係融洽，纔能夠民主平等。生生和諧、師生和諧、環境和諧、氛圍和諧，都需要教師的大度、風度與氣度。與同行斤斤計較，對學生寸步不讓，艱難有和諧的課堂。和諧的關鍵在

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