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The winner of the 1921 Pulitzer Prize, Wharton's acclaimed novel is the story of a passion threatened by convention and played out against a backdrop or New York City's upper class, unimaginable wealth, and unavoidable tragedy. Revised reissue.

《純真時代》是伊迪絲·華頓的傑齣代錶作品。華頓把愛倫--全書的靈魂人物的性格的各個側麵都描寫的栩栩如生。她的溫柔、善良、勇敢、真實，尤其是她展現齣來的犧牲精神更是伴隨著故事的發展而升華。

內容簡介

The 1920s novel of a passion threatened by convention and played outagainst a backdrop of New York City-s upper class, unimaginable wealth,and unavoidable tragedy.

《純真年代》講述透過老紐約社會培養齣的最優秀的青年———紐蘭，通過他保守的思想和雙眼，奧蘭斯卡伯爵夫人的形象就是一個極為風情、大膽的女子，有些輕浮、有些散漫，看起來和老紐約社會上的
貴族是那樣的不同，在他看來這樣的女人也不可能具有什麼高貴的品質。但是隨著故事的展開，奧蘭斯卡伯爵夫人的許多優秀的品質被顯現齣來，尤其是她的人道主義的犧牲精神展現得尤為突齣。

作者簡介

Edith Wharton:One of America's most important novelists, Edith Wharton was a refined, relentless chronicler of the Gilded Age and its social mores. Along with close friend Henry James, she helped define literature at the turn of the 20th century, even as she wrote classic nonfiction on travel, decorating and her own life.

伊迪絲·華頓（Edith Wharton, 1862年1月24日－1937年8月11日），是19 世紀末女性現實主義作傢的代錶，她的一生推齣瞭近十餘部作品，包括中、長篇小說、詩歌、傳記和文學批評等不同體裁。由於她生活的局限性，她的小說一般都是以一種極其細膩的手法描寫著貴族生活，所以也被人稱為溫和現實主義作傢。美國女作傢，作品有《高尚的嗜好》、《純真年代》、《四月裏的陣雨》、《馬恩河》、《戰地英雄》等書。

精彩書評

"One of the best novels of the 20th century."
--NY Times Book Review

"The winner of the 1921 Pulitzer Prize, Wharton's acclaimed novel is the story of a passion threatened by convention and played out against a backdrop or New York City's upper class, unimaginable wealth, and unavoidable tragedy."
-- Revised reissue.

精彩書摘

ON A January evening of the early seventies, Christine Nilsson was singing in "Faust" at the Academy of Music in New York.

Though there was already talk of the erection, in remote metropolitan distances "above the Forties," of a new Opera House which should compete in costliness and splendour with those of the great European capitals, the world of fashion was still content to reassemble every winter in the shabby red and gold boxes of the sociable old Academy. Conservatives cherished it for being small and inconvenient, and thus keeping out the "new people" whom New York was beginning to dread and yet be drawn to; and the sentimental clung to it for its historic associations, and the musical for its excellent acoustics, always so problematic a quality in halls built for the hearing of music.

It was Madame Nilsson's first appearance that winter, and what the daily press had already learned to describe as "an exceptionally brilliant audience" had gathered to hear her, transported through the slippery, snowy streets in private broughams, in the spacious family landau, or in the humbler but more convenient "Brown coupé." To come to the Opera in a Brown coupe was almost as honourable a way of arriving as in one's own carriage; and departure by the same means had the immense advantage of enabling one (with a playful allusion to democratic principles) to scramble into the first Brown conveyance in the line, instead of waiting till the cold-and-gin congested nose of one's own coachman gleamed under the portico of the Academy. It was one of the great livery-stableman's most masterly intuitions to have discovered that Americans want to get away from amusement even more quickly than they want to get to it.

When Newland Archer opened the door at the back of the club box the curtain had just gone up on the garden scene. There was no reason why the young man should not have come earlier, for he had dined at seven, alone with his mother and sister, and had lingered afterward over a cigar in the Gothic library with glazed black-walnut bookcases and finial-topped chairs which was the only room in the house where Mrs. Archer allowed smoking. But, in the first place, New York was a metropolis, and perfectly aware that in metropolises it was "not the thing" to arrive early at the opera; and what was or was not "the thing" played a part as important in Newland Archer's New York as the inscrutable totem terrors that had ruled the destinies of his forefathers thousands of years ago.

The second reason for his delay was a personal one. He had dawdled over his cigar because he was at heart a dilettante, and thinking over a pleasure to come often gave him a subtler satisfaction than its realisation. This was especially the case when the pleasure was a delicate one, as his pleasures mostly were; and on this occasion the moment he looked forward to was so rare and exquisite in quality that—well, if he had timed his arrival in accord with the prima donna's stage-manager he could not have entered the Academy at a more significant moment than just as she was singing: "He loves me—he loves me not—he loves me!—" and sprinkling the falling daisy petals with notes as clear as dew.

She sang, of course, "M'ama!" and not "he loves me," since an unalterable and unquestioned law of the musical world required that the German text of French operas sung by Swedish artists should be translated into Italian for the clearer understanding of English-speaking audiences. This seemed as natural to Newland Archer as all the other conventions on which his life was moulded: such as the duty of using two silver-backed brushes with his monogram in blue enamel to part his hair, and of never appearing in society without a flower (preferably a gardenia) in his buttonhole.

"M'ama . . . non m'ama . . ." the prima donna sang, and "M'ama!" with a final burst of love triumphant, as she pressed the dishevelled daisy to her lips and lifted her large eyes to the sophisticated countenance of the little brown Faust-Capoul, who was vainly trying, in a tight purple velvet doublet and plumed cap, to look as pure and true as his artless victim.

Newland Archer, leaning against the wall at the back of the club box, turned his eyes from the stage and scanned the opposite side of the house. Directly facing him was the box of old Mrs. Manson Mingott, whose monstrous obesity had long since made it impossible for her to attend the Opera, but who was always represented on fashionable nights by some of the younger members of the family. On this occasion, the front of the box was filled by her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Lovell Mingott, and her daughter, Mrs. Welland; and slightly withdrawn behind these brocaded matrons sat a young girl in white with eyes ecstatically fixed on the stage lovers. As Madame Nilsson's "M'ama!" thrilled out above the silent house (the boxes always stopped talking during the Daisy Song) a warm pink mounted to the girl's cheek, mantled her brow to the roots of her fair braids, and suffused the young slope of her breast to the line where it met a modest tulle tucker fastened with a single gardenia. She dropped her eyes to the immense bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley on her knee, and Newland Archer saw her white-gloved finger-tips touch the flowers softly. He drew a breath of satisfied vanity and his eyes returned to the stage.

No expense had been spared on the setting, which was acknowledged to be very beautiful even by people who shared his acquaintance with the Opera Houses of Paris and Vienna. The foreground, to the footlights, was covered with emerald green cloth. In the middle distance symmetrical mounds of woolly green moss bounded by croquet hoops formed the base of shrubs shaped like orange-trees but studded with large pink and red roses. Gigantic pansies, considerably larger than the roses, and closely resembling the floral pen-wipers made by female parishioners for fashionable clergymen, sprang from the moss beneath the rose-trees; and here and there a daisy grafted on a rose-branch flowered with a luxuriance prophetic of Mr. Luther Burbank's far-off prodigies.

In the centre of this enchanted garden Madame Nilsson, in white cashmere slashed with pale blue satin, a reticule dangling from a blue girdle, and large yellow braids carefully disposed on each side of her muslin chemisette, listened with downcast eyes to M. Capoul's impassioned wooing, and affected a guileless incomprehension of his designs whenever, by word or glance, he persuasively indicated the ground floor window of the neat brick villa projecting obliquely from the right wing.

"The darling!" though The Age of Innocence[純真年代] [平裝] 下載 mobi epub pdf txt 電子書

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現在買書，隻在京東瞭，物流給力，價格給力，心裏舒服極瞭。哈哈哈哈

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　　浮華的外錶下隻是蒼白的冷漠，繁復的裝飾下是沒有迴聲的空白。阿切爾與埃倫又一次邂逅，他決定要帶著她從喧囂和虛僞中逃離。可是梅不僅是一個美麗柔弱的女子，也是一個百發百中的射手，她用一個尚未降生的孩子再次挽留瞭阿切爾，梅的身後是整個上流社會，他們微笑著剝奪瞭他的靈魂和埃倫的一切。

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值得購買質量不錯 “書籍是人類進步的階梯”；書籍是人類智慧的結晶； 書籍是傳播知識的載體。書海浩瀚無邊，裏麵蘊藏著豐富的知識， 知識是開啓理想之門的鑰匙；知識是無價的寶貴財富，知識隻有靠讀書纔能獲得。 讀書的感覺真好。讀書是一種享受，無論躺在床上隨意瀏覽，還是在辦公室伏案書海暢遊； 無論是在公共汽車上翻閱消遣，還是在茶餘飯後靜坐捧讀、托腮沉思，都會使你進入一種興趣盎然、 不剋言狀的絕妙境界。當心情愉快的時候讀書，它會帶給你更加舒暢的愜意； 當心情消極悲觀的時候讀書，它會喚起你對未來人生的熱愛和美好生活的嚮往； 當你孤獨寂寞時讀書，它就像佳人乍到，給你送來瞭清新的問候和舒適的撫慰， 使你心胸頓時豁然開朗，感到世界是那麼美好，人間是那麼可愛。 讀書的感覺真好。 讀書可開闊視野，明瞭天下之大事；讀書可陶冶情操，使人心胸更加開闊；讀書可醒腦益智， 提高人的綜閤能力；讀書可豪情滿懷，使人精神更加振奮；讀書可泣人淚下， 它能淨化人的心靈。每讀到一本好書就像他鄉遇故知、久旱遇甘霖一樣，另人心曠神怡， 從中獲得寶貴的啓示並能懂得人生的真諦及生活的意義。 生快事，莫如讀書。 它能讓我們知天地、曉人生。它能讓我們陶冶性情，不以物喜，不以物悲。 書是我們精神的巢穴，生命的源泉。古今中外有成就的人，到與書結下瞭不解之緣， 並善於從書中汲取營養。從閱讀中養成愛好讀書的習慣，體會讀書的樂趣， 學習和掌握一些讀書的方法，這不是人生的第一大快事嗎？下麵，我就和大傢分享讀書的各種樂趣吧！ 讀書的一大樂趣莫過於當你當你正為一個問題絞盡腦汁，百思不得其解的時候， 或對某一個問題似有所聞的時候，打開書一看，你就會發現早已有人對這個問題做瞭充分的論述， 正好騷到瞭你的癢處。這種“柳暗花明又一村”的感覺你那麼舒服，那麼的自在。 讀書對於不同的人有不同的樂趣，對於從事體力勞動來說，讀書一種休閑；對於從事腦力勞動的人來說， 書可能是一種靈丹妙藥，煩悶時，讀書可以解悶；愁苦時，讀書可以忘憂；興奮時， 讀書可以暢流…… 讀書給人恬淡、寜靜、心安理得的快樂，是名利、金錢不可取代的， 書就像人類的精神營養劑，缺瞭它，生活必缺陷。讓我們彆留下遺憾，拿起書吧！ 相信你一定也能從書中懂得人生的真諦! 讀書的感覺真好！朋友，多讀書吧! 書的質量非常好，封麵的圖畫讓人對作品本身也充滿好感和期待。 書總給我一種輕便自然的感覺。非常喜歡。

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　　但他終於隻能理所當然地和梅在一起，那麼多的羈絆，他無法抗拒。

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買來慢慢讀 包裝小些 便於攜帶 但是字兒也小哦

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買來慢慢讀 包裝小些 便於攜帶 但是字兒也小哦

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《遠大前程》劇照

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