The Chrysanthemums
thechrysanthemums菊花中英对照
The high grey-flannel fog of winter closed off the Salinas Valley from the sky and from all the rest of the world. On every side it sat like a lid on the mountains and made of the great valley a closed pot. On the broad, level land floor the gang plows bit deep and left the black earth shining like metal where the shares had cut. On the foothill ranches across the Salinas River, the yellow stubble fields seemed to be bathed in pale cold sunshine, but there was no sunshine in the valley now in December. The thick willow scrub along the river flamed with sharp and positive yellow leaves.飘荡在半空中的冬雾呈现出灰法兰绒色，将萨利纳斯山谷严实地罩了起来；同时也把它与外界分隔开。
雾气锁着山头，四面象顶盖子，而山谷则成了一口盖得严严实实的深锅。
农民在宽阔平坦的土地上深耕，犁铧过处，黑色的土地闪着金属的光泽。
在横卧萨利纳斯河的丘陵地上，农场里的茬地泛着黄色，象是沐浴在冷冷的苍白日光下；不过，现在时至腊月，山谷里没什么阳光。
河边上密密麻麻的柳丛上的黄叶颜色鲜浓，象着了火似的。
It was a time of quiet and of waiting. The air was cold and tender. A light wind blew up from the southwest so that the farmers were mildly hopeful of a good rain before long; but fog and rain do not go together.这是一个安静，叫人等待的季节。
英美短篇小 说Unit 18 The Chrysanthemums
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unsatisfying life. Elisa’s husband, Henry ,is
everything a woman should want in a husband by the
standards of his society .
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Development
Arrival of the tinker: His interest in the flowers: Elisa’s captivation with him The tinker drives away with fifty cents and the cuttings .
Elisa’s preparation for dinner
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• Climax
• Elisa sees the chrysanthemums of her are discarded on the road:
• “Far ahead on the road Elisa saw a dark spe6/29
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The Chrysanthemums
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Characters Structure Summary Symbols Sentences Theme and Enlightment
The Chrysanthemums(课件)
Rising action
(para.93-94, 99-104, 106)
In the bathroom, Elisa gives herself a good washing and stood in front of the mirror to appreciate herself. Then
The Chrysanthemums
By John Steinbeck
Characters
Elisa Allen (para.4)
Henry Allen (para.4) The unnamed tinker（补锅匠）(para.28)
Setting
Time: (para.1)
a winter day with the high gray-flannel fog 一个冬天的早晨，空中呈现出灰法兰绒色冬雾
II. Biography of John Steinbeck
1. Born in Salinas, California.
2. Read widely especially in English classical literature under the influence of his schoolmaster mother. 3. Supporting himself from childhood, working at a variety of manual jobs: ranch hand, trainee carpenter, painter, laborer and chemist, which provided first –hand materials. observations of the attitudes, manners and language of the
The Chrysanthemums(菊花)简介
The Chrysanthemums is the work by John Steinbeck who is an American author of twenty-seven books, including sixteen novels, six non-fiction books, and five collections of short stories. He is widely known for the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Grapes of Wrath (1939), East of Eden (1952) and the novella Of Mice and Men (1937). Steinbeck received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1962 "for his realistic and imaginative writings, combining as they do sympathetic humor and keen social perception". In his work, he wrote about poor and sad people, and he also showed his sympathy for these people whose life is in low level.The Chrysanthemums is a short story from his collection The Long Valley first published in 1938. It was set in John Steinbeck’s hometown, the Salina’s valley in California. It is a story about a poor woman called Elisa Allen who was suppressed by the life for a long time. Elisa Allen and her husband Henry live peacefully on their farm. When Elisa is busy with her chrysanthemums in the garden, a tinker passes by and asks for work .She refused directly. Later when the man enquires about her chrysanthemums and asks for some “seeds” to bring to“a lady”, Elisa gets emotional and finds him two pots to mend. The tinker drives away with fifty cents and the cuttings. When riding on the road with her husband, Elisa sees the chrysanthemum shoots she sent to the "lady" thrown on the road. She is dismayed and cries sadly.And the main characters in the novel are concluded as following.Elisa AllenA passionate woman who leads an unsatisfying life. As a result, she devotes all of her energy to maintaining her house and garden. Elisa is so frustrated with life that she readily looks for stimulating conversation and even sex.The TinkerHe is clever and canny enough to convince the skeptical Elisa to give him work, begging at first and finally resorting to flattery. In fact, he is just a con man. Henry AllenElisa’s husband, Henry, is everything a woman should want in a husband by the standards of his society. He provides for her, treats her with respect. However, Henry is also stolid and unimaginative. Henry functions in the story as a stand-in for patriarchal society as a whole. He believes that a strict line separates the sexes.And the theme of this passage is the critique of the society for there is no place for intelligent women to realize their values. Elisa is smart and energetic, but she is limited by her sex. By the contrast, her husband, Henry is not smart as her, but he runs the ranch to support the family. Steinbeck uses Henry and the tinker as stand-ins for the paternalism of patriarchal societies in general: just as they ignore women’s potential, so too does society. It is an inequality of gender.Besides, John Steinbeck uses many symbols in this passage.1. At the beginning, the Salinas Valley symbolizes Elisa’s emotional life. The story opens with a lengthy description of the valley. The valley was closed of the high-flannel gray fog of winter. This symbolized that Elisa’s life was suppressed buy the in equality of the gender. She can not realize her intelligence just like the valley can not show its beauty because of the annoyed high-flannel gray fog of winter.2.The chrysanthemums symbolize both Elisa and the limited scope of her life.The chrysanthemums are beautiful, strong, and thriving, like Elisa Allen.Elisa identifies herself with the flowers, even saying that she becomes one with the plants when she tends to them.She offers the chrysanthemums to thinker at the same time she offers herself, both of which he ignores and tosses aside Just like her, the flowers are unimportant: both are merely decorative and add little value to the world.3.Fences symbolize the barriers that separate Elisa from the rest of the world, including her husband Henry. Her fences protect flower garden from cattle, dogs, and chickens which represent her husband’s world while her flower garden represents Elisa’s world.4. Elisa’s clothing changes as her handsome, masculine persona becomes more feminine after the visit from the tinker. When the story begins, Elisa is wearing a gardening outfit, complete with heavy shoes, thick gloves, a man’s hat, and an apron filled with sharp implements. The narrator even describes her body as “blocked and heavy.” At the later passage, after Elisa changes her cloth, feminine items contrast sharply with her gardening clothes and reflect the newly Elisa. At the end of the story, after Elisa has seen the castoff shoots, she pulls up her coat collar to hide her tears, a gesture that suggests a move backward into the repressed state in which she has lived most, if not all, of her adult life.5.Elisa lets the tinker into the yard; she goes and gets a bright red flower pot. The red is important here because red is the symbol of power and passion. At this point in the story, Elisa is beginning to feel her own power. She is realizing she can bring forth life in her flowers, even if she is not powerful in other aspects of her life. Also, since the encounter with the tinker is likened to a sexual experience, the red flower pot is significant of their passion. The pot is symbolic of her self and her feelings.This passage uses the third person point of view to tell the story clearly and not limited by the time, place or characters.As for me, I think the passage encouraged all intelligent woman to realize their values and critic the social limitation for the women.。
The_Chrysanthemums-带译文
The_Chrysanthemums-带译文The Chrysanthemumsby John SteinbeckElisa is a young married lady working on an isolated farm and proudof her skills in growing flowers. One day, she suddenly feels a desireto communicate with the outside world. What happens to her? Please read the following story.The high grey-flannel fog of winter closed off the Salinas Valleyfrom the sky and from all the rest of the world. On every side it satlike a lid on the mountains and made of the great valley a closed pot. On the broad, level land floor the gang plows bit deep and left theblack earth shining like metal where the shares had cut. On the foothill ranches across the Salinas River, the yellow stubble fields seemed to be bathed in pale cold sunshine, but there was no sunshine in the valley now in December. The thick willow scrub along the river flamed withsharp and positive yellow leaves.It was a time of quiet and of waiting. The air was cold and tender.A light wind blew up from the southwest so that the farmers were mildly hopeful of a good rain before long; but fog and rain do not go together.Across the river, on Henry Allen's foothill ranch there was little work to be done, for the hay was cut and stored and the orchards were plowed up to receive the rain deeply when it should come. The cattle on the higher slopes were becoming shaggy and rough-coated.Elisa Allen, working in her flower garden, looked down across the yard and saw Henry, her husband, talking to two men in business suits. The three of them stood by the tractor shed, each man with one foot on the side of the little Fordson. They smoked cigarettes and studied the machine as they talked.Elisa watched them for a moment and then went back to her work. She was thirty-five. Her face was lean and strong and her eyes were as clear as water. Her figure looked blocked and heavy in her gardening costume, a man's black hat pulled low down over her eyes, clod-hopper shoes, a figured print dress almostcompletely covered by a big corduroy apron with four big pockets to hold the snips, the trowel and scratcher, the seeds and the knife she worked with. She wore heavy leather gloves to protect her hands while she worked.She was cutting down the old year's chrysanthemum stalks with a pair of short and powerful scissors. She looked down toward the men by the tractor shed now and then. Her face was eager and mature and handsome; even her work with the scissors was over-eager, over-powerful. The chrysanthemum stems seemed too small and easy for her energy.She brushed a cloud of hair out of her eyes with the back of her glove, and left a smudge of earth on her cheek in doing it. Behind her stood the neat white farm house with red geraniums close-banked aroundit as high as the windows. It was a hard-swept looking little house with hard-polished windows, and a clean mud-mat on the front steps.Elisa cast another glance toward the tractor shed. The strangers were getting into their Ford coupe. She took off a glove and put her strong fingers down into the forest ofnew green chrysanthemum sprouts that were growing around the old roots. She spread the leaves and looked down among the close-growing stems. No aphids were there, no sowbugs or snails or cutworms. Her terrier fingers destroyed such pests before they could get started.Elisa started at the sound of her husband's voice. He had come near quietly, and he leaned over the wire fence that protected her flower garden from cattle and dogs and chickens."At it again," he said. "You've got a strong new crop coming."Elisa straightened her back and pulled on the gardening glove again: "Yes. They'll be strong this coming year." In her tone and on her face there was a little smugness."You've got a gift with things," Henry observed. "Some of those yellow chrysanthemums you had this year were ten inches across. I wish you'd work out in the orchard and raise some apples that big."Her eyes sharpened. "Maybe I could do it, too. I've a gift with things, all right. My mother had it. She could stick anything in the ground and make it grow. She said it was having planters' hands that knew how to do it.""Well, it sure works with flowers," he said."Henry, who were those men you were talking to?""Why, sure, that's what I came to tell you. They were from the Western Meat Company. I sold those thirty head of three-year-old steers. Got nearly my own price, too.""Good," she said. "Good for you.""And I thought," he continued, "I thought how it's Saturday afternoon, and we might go into Salinas for dinner at a restaurant, and then to a picture show , tocelebrate, you see.""Good," she repeated. "Oh, yes. That will be good."Henry put on his joking tone. "There's fights tonight. How'd youlike to go to the fights?""Oh, no," she said breathlessly. "No, I wouldn't like fights.""Just fooling, Elisa. We'll go to a movie. Let's see. It's two now.I'm going to take Scotty and bring down those steers from the hill.It'll take us maybe two hours. We'll go in town about five and have dinner at the Cominos Hotel. Like that?""Of course I'll like it. It's good to eat away from home.""All right, then. I'll go get up a couple of horses."She said, "I'll have plenty of time to transplant some of these sets, I guess."She heard her husband calling Scotty down by the barn. And a little later she saw the two men ride up the pale yellow hillside in search of the steers.There was a little square sandy bed kept for rooting the chrysanthemums. With her trowel she turned the soil over and over, and smoothed it and patted it firm. Then she dug ten parallel trenches to receive the sets. Back atthe chrysanthemum bed she pulled out the little crisp shoots, trimmed off the leaves of each one with her scissors and laid it on a small orderly pile.A squeak of wheels and plod of hoofs came from the road. Elisalooked up. The country road ran along the dense bank of willows and cottonwoods that bordered the river, and up this road came a curious vehicle, curiously drawn. It was an old spring-wagon, with a round canvas top on it like the cover of a prairie schooner. It was drawn by an old bay horse and a little grey-and-white burro. A big stubble-bearded man sat between the cover flaps and drove the crawling team. Underneath the wagon, between the hind wheels, a lean and rangy mongrel dog walked sedately. Words were painted on the canvas, in clumsy, crooked letters. "Pots, pans, knives, scissors, lawn mowers. Fixed." Two rows of articles, and the triumphantly definitive "Fixed" below. The black paint had run down in little sharp points beneath each letter.Elisa, squatting on the ground, watched to see the crazy, loose-jointed wagon pass by. But it didn't pass. Itturned into the farm road in front of her house, crooked old wheels skirling and squeaking. The rangy dog darted from between the wheels and ran ahead. Instantly the two ranch shepherds flew out at him. Then allthree stopped, and with stiff and quivering tails, with taut straight legs, with ambassadorial dignity, they slowly circled, sniffing daintily. The caravan pulled up to Elisa's wire fence and stopped. Now the newcomer dog, feeling out-numbered, lowered his tail and retired under the wagon with raised hackles and bared teeth.The man on the wagon seat called out, "That's a bad dog in a fight when he gets started."Elisa laughed. "I see he is. How soon does he generally get started?"The man caught up her laughter and echoed it heartily. "Sometimesnot for weeks and weeks,” he said. He climbed stiffly down, over the wheel. The horse and the donkey drooped like unwatered flowers.Elisa saw that he was a very big man. Although his hair and beard were greying, he did not look old. Hisworn black suit was wrinkled and spotted with grease. The laughter had disappeared from his face and eyes the moment his laughing voice ceased. His eyes were dark, and they were full of the brooding that gets in the eyes of teamsters and of sailors. The calloused hands he restedon the wire fence were cracked, and every crack was a black line. Hetook off his battered hat."I'm off my general road, ma'am," he said. "Does this dirt road cut over across the river to the Los Angeles highway?"Elisa stood up and shoved the thick scissors in her apron pocket. "Well, yes, it does, but it winds around and then fords the river. Idon't think your team could pull through the sand."He replied with some asperity, "It might surprise you what them beasts can pull through.""When they get started?" she asked.He smiled for a second. "Yes. When they get started.""Well," said Elisa, "I think you'll save time if you go back to the Salinas road and pick up the highway there."He drew a big finger down the chicken wire and made it sing. "Iain't in any hurry, ma'am. I go from Seattle to San Diego and back every year. Takes all my time. About six months each way. I aim to follow nice weather."Elisa took off her gloves and stuffed them in the apron pocket with the scissors. She touched the under edge of her man's hat, searching for fugitive hairs. "That sounds like a nice kind of a way to live," she said.He leaned confidentially over the fence. "Maybe you noticed the writing on my wagon. I mend pots and sharpen knives and scissors. You got any of them things to do?""Oh, no," she said quickly. "Nothing like that." Her eyes hardened with resistance."Scissors is the worst thing," he explained. "Most people just ruin scissors trying to sharpen …em, but I know how. I got a special tool.It's a little bobbit kind ofthing, and patented. But it sure does the trick.""No. My scissors are all sharp.""All right, then. Take a pot," he continued earnestly, "a bent pot, or a pot with a hole. I can make it like new so you don't have to buy no new ones. That's a saving for you.""No," she said shortly. "I tell you I have nothing like that for you to do."His face fell to an exaggerated sadness. His voice took on a whining undertone. "I ain't had a thing to do today. Maybe I won't have no supper tonight. You see I'm off my regular road. I know folks on the highway clear from Seattle to San Diego. They save their things for me to sharpen up because they know I do it so good and save them money.""I'm sorry," Elisa said irritably. "I haven't anything for you to do."His eyes left her face and fell to searching the ground. They roamed about until they came to thechrysanthemum bed where she had been working."What's them plants, ma'am?"The irritation and resistance melted from Elisa's face. "Oh, those are chrysanthemums, giant whites and yellows. I raise them every year, bigger than anybody around here.""Kind of a long-stemmed flower? Looks like a quick puff of colored smoke?" he asked."That's it. What a nice way to describe them.""They smell kind of nasty till you get used to them," he said."It's a good bitter smell," she retorted, "not nasty at all."He changed his tone quickly. "I like the smell myself.""I had ten-inch blooms this year," she said.The man leaned farther over the fence. "Look. I know a lady down the road a piece, has got the nicest garden you ever seen. Got nearly every kind of flower but nochrysanthemums. Last time I was mending acopper-bottom washtub for her (that's a hard job but I do it good), she said to me, 'If you ever run across some nice chrysanthemums I wish you'd try to get me a few seeds.' That's what she told me.”Elisa's eyes grew alert and eager. "She couldn't have known much about chrysanthemums. You can raise them from seed, but it's much easier to root the little sprouts you see there.""Oh," he said. "I s'pose I can't take none to her, then.""Why yes you can," Elisa cried. "I can put some in damp sand, andyou can carry them right along with you. They'll take root in the pot if you keep them damp. And then she can transplant them.""She'd sure like to have some, ma'am. You say they're nice ones?""Beautiful," she said. "Oh, beautiful." Her eyes shone. She tore off the battered hat and shook out her dark pretty hair. "I'll put them in a flower pot, and you can take them right with you. Come into the yard."While the man came through the picket gate Elisa ran excitedly along the geranium-bordered path to the back of the house. And she returned carrying a big red flower pot. The gloves were forgotten now. she kneeled on the ground by the starting bed and dug up the sandy soil with her fingers and scooped it into the bright new flower pot. Then she picked up the little pile of shoots she had prepared. With her strong fingers she pressed them into the sand and tamped around them with her knuckles. The man stood over her. "I'll tell you what to do," she said. "You remember so you can tell the lady.""Yes, I'll try to remember.""Well, look. These will take root in about a month. Then she mustset them out, about a foot apart in good rich earth like this, see?" She lifted a handful of dark soil for him to look at. "They'll grow fast and tall. Now remember this: In July tell her to cut them down, about eight inches from the ground.""Before they bloom?" he asked."Yes, before they bloom." Her face was tight with eagerness."They'll grow right up again. About the last of September the buds will start."She stopped and seemed perplexed. "It's the budding that takes the most care," she said hesitantly. "I don't know how to tell you." Shelooked deep into his eyes, searchingly. Her mouth opened a little, and she seemed to be listening. "I'l l try to tell you,” she said. “Did you ever hear of planting hands?""Can't say I have, ma'am.""Well, I can only tell you what it feels like. It's when you're picking off the buds you don't want. Everything goes right down into your fingertips. You watch your fingers work. They do it themselves. You can feel how it is. They pick and pick the buds. They never make a mistake. They're with the plant. Do you see? Your fingers and the plant. You can feel that, right up your arm. They know. They never make a mistake. You can feel it. When you're like that you can't do anything wrong. Do you see that? Can you understand that?"She was kneeling on the ground looking up at him. Her breast swelled passionately.The man's eyes narrowed. He looked awayself-consciously. "Maybe I know," he said. "Sometimes in the nightin the wagon there ,"Elisa's voice grew husky. She broke in on him, "I've never lived as you do, but I know what you mean. When the night is dark , why, the stars are sharp-pointed,and there's quiet. Why, you rise up and up! Every pointed star gets driven into your body. It's like that. Hot and sharp and , lovely."Kneeling there, her hand went out toward his legs in the greasyblack trousers. Her hesitant fingers almost touched the cloth. Then her hand dropped to the ground. She crouched low like a fawning dog.He said, "it's nice, just like you say. Only when you don't have no dinner, it ain't."She stood up then, very straight, and her face was ashamed. She held the flower pot out to him and placed it gently in his arms. "Here. Putit in your wagon, on theseat, where you can watch it. Maybe I can find something for you to do."At the back of the house she dug in the can pile and found two old and battered aluminum saucepans. She carried them back and gave them to him. "Here, maybe you can fix these."His manner changed. He became professional. "Good as new I can fix them." At the back of his wagon he set a little anvil, and out of anoily tool box dug a small machine hammer. Elisa came through the gate to watch him while he pounded out the dents in the kettles. His mouth grew sure and knowing. At a difficult part of the work he sucked his under-lip."You sleep right in the wagon?" Elisa asked."Right in the wagon, ma'am. Rain or shine I'm dry as a cow in there.""It must be nice," she said. "It must be very nice. I wish women could do such things.""It ain't the right kind of a life for a woman."Her upper lip raised a little, showing her teeth. "How do you know? How can you tell?" she said."I don't know, ma'am," he protested. "Of course I don't know. Nowhere's your kettles, done. You don't have to buy no new ones.""How much?""Oh, fifty cents'll do. I keep my prices down and my work good.That's why I have all them satisfied customers up and down the highway."Elisa brought him a fifty-cent piece from the house and dropped itin his hand. "You might be surprised to have a rival some time. I can sharpen scissors, too. And I can beat the dents out of little pots. I could show you what a woman might do."He put his hammer back in the oily box and shoved the little anvilout of sight. "It would be a lonely life for a woman, ma'am, and ascarey life, too, with animals creeping under the wagon all night." He climbed over the singletree, steadying himself with a hand on theburro's white rump. He settled himself in the seat, picked up the lines. "Thank you kindly, ma'am," he said. "I'll do like you told me; I'll go back and catch the Salinas road.""Mind," she called, "if you're long in getting there, keep the sand damp.""Sand, ma'am?...sand? Oh, sure. You mean around the chrysanthemums. Sure I will." He clucked his tongue. The beasts leaned luxuriously into their collars. The mongrel dog took his place between the back wheels.The wagon turned and crawled out the entrance road and back the way it had come, along the river.Elisa stood in front of her wire fence watching the slow progress of the caravan. Her shoulders were straight, her head thrown back, her eyes half-closed, so that the scene came vaguely into them. Her lips moved silently, forming the words "Good-bye , good-bye." Then she whispered, "That's a bright direction. There's a glowing there." The sound of her whisper startled her. She shook herself free and looked about to see whether anyone had been listening. Only the dogs had heard. They lifted their heads toward her from their sleeping in the dust, and thenstretched out their chins and settled asleep again. Elisa turned and ran hurriedly into the house.In the kitchen she reached behind the stove and felt the water tank. It was full of hot water from the noonday cooking. In the bathroom she tore off her soiled clothes and flung them into the corner. And then she scrubbed herself with a little block of pumice, legs and thighs, loins and chest and arms, until her skin was scratched and red. When she had dried herself she stood in front of a mirror in her bedroom and looked at her body. She tightened her stomach and threw out her chest. She turned and looked over her shoulder at her back.After a while she began to dress, slowly. She put on her newest underclothing and her nicest stockings and the dress which was thesymbol of her prettiness. She worked carefully on her hair, penciled her eyebrows and rouged her lips.Before she was finished she heard the little thunder of hoofs andthe shouts of Henry and his helper as they drove the red steers into the corral. She heard the gate bang shut and set herself for Henry's arrival.His step sounded on the porch. He entered the house calling, "Elisa, where are you?""In my room, dressing. I'm not ready. There's hot water for yourbath. Hurry up. It's getting late."When she heard him splashing in the tub, Elisa laid his dark suit on the bed, and shirt and socks and tie beside it. She stood his polished shoes on the floor beside the bed. Then she went to the porch and sat primly and stiffly down. She looked toward the river road where thewillow-line was still yellow with frosted leaves so that under the high grey fog they seemed a thin band of sunshine. This was the only color in the grey afternoon. She sat unmoving for a long time. Her eyes blinked rarely.Henry came banging out of the door, shoving his tie inside his vestas he came. Elisa stiffened and her face grew tight. Henry stopped short and looked at her. "Why , why, Elisa. You look so nice!""Nice? You think I look nice? What do you mean by 'nice'?"Henry blundered on. "I don't know. I mean you look different, strong and happy.""I am strong? Yes, strong. What do you mean 'strong'?"He looked bewildered. "You're playing some kind of a game," he said helplessly. "It's a kind of a play. You look strong enough to break acalf over your knee, happy enough to eat it like a watermelon."For a second she lost her rigidity. "Henry! Don't talk like that.You didn't know what you said." She grew complete again. "I'm strong," she boasted. "I never knew before how strong."Henry looked down toward the tractor shed, and when he brought his eyes back to her, they were his own again. "I'll get out the car. Youcan put on your coat while I'm starting."Elisa went into the house. She heard him drive to the gate and idle down his motor, and then she took a long time to put on her hat. She pulled it here and pressed itthere. When Henry turned the motor off she slipped into her coat and went out.The little roadster bounced along on the dirt road by the river, raising the birds and driving the rabbits into the brush. Two cranes flapped heavily over the willow-line and dropped into the river-bed.Far ahead on the road Elisa saw a dark speck. She knew.She tried not to look as they passed it, but her eyes would not obey. She whispered to herself sadly, "He might have thrown them off the road. That wouldn't have been much trouble, not very much. But he kept the pot," she explained. "He had to keep the pot. That's why he couldn't get them off the road."The roadster turned a bend and she saw the caravan ahead. She swung full around toward her husband so she could not see the little covered wagon and the mismatched team as the car passed them.In a moment it was over. The thing was done. She did not look back.She said loudly, to be heard above the motor, "It will be good, tonight, a good dinner.""Now you're changed again," Henry complained. He took one hand from the wheel and patted her knee. "I ought to take you in to dinner oftener. It would be good for both of us. We get so heavy out on the ranch.""Henry," she asked, "could we have wine at dinner?""Sure we could. Say! That will be fine."She was silent for a while; then she said, "Henry, at those prize fights, do the men hurt each other very much?""Sometimes a little, not often. Why?""Well, I've read how they break noses, and blood runs down their chests. I've read how the fighting gloves get heavy and soggy with blood."He looked around at her. "What's the matter, Elisa? I didn't knowyou read things like that." He brought the car to a stop, then turned to the right over the Salinas Riverbridge."Do any women ever go to the fights?" she asked."Oh, sure, some. What's the matter, Elisa? Do you want to go? Idon't think you'd like it, but I'll take you if you really want to go."She relaxed limply in the seat. "Oh, no. No. I don't want to go. I'm sure I don't." Her face was turned away from him. "It will be enough if we can have wine. It will be plenty." She turned up her coat collar so he could not see that she was crying weakly , like an old woman.(4272 words)菊花约翰?斯坦贝克年轻媳妇伊利莎住在一家偏僻的农场，一手高超的种花技能令她自豪。
TheChrysanthemums菊花斯坦贝克
• First famous work: Tortilla
Flters of his works:
social novels dealing with the economic problems of rural labor
Henry Allen
Elisa’s husband, Henry ,is everything a woman should want in a husband by the standards of his society . He provides for her, treats her with respect. However, Henry is also stolid and unimaginative. Henry functions in the story as a stand-in for patriarchal society as a whole. He believes that a strict line separates the sexes.
Symbols--- Fences
Fences symbolize the barriers that separate Elisa from the rest of the world, including her husband Henry. Her fences protect flower garden from cattle, dogs, and chickens which represent her husband’s world while her flower garden represents Elisa’s world. “He had come near quietly, and leaned over the wire fence .” This shows that Henry is always treading softly around Elisa, courteous but always leaning over careful not to intrude into the woman’s world . The Tinker’s caravan pulls “up to Elisa’s wire fence and stops .” The Tinker, bearer of outside influences begins by resting his hands on the wire fence and made it sing . As the meeting progresses and Elisa’s sexuality is awakening the Tinker begins to “lean confidently over the fence and eventually penetrates Elisa’s barrier to come “through the gate .” The Tinker’s entrance into the gate represents Elisa’s passions fully released and she is no longer completely isolated. Elisa’s fence helped to divide her from the outside world full of influences and from a husband who was not completely aware of her.
美国作家斯坦贝克的《菊花》全英文分析
for creative expression are limited
Her outlets are her ―hard-swept‖
house and her garden She senses that an important part of her is lying dormant and that the future will be predictable and rather mundane
in the eyes of teamsters and of sailors"
Represents freedom, connection with
others that Elisa longs for but cannot have
The Tinker
He is a skilled salesman, extremely
beauty
Elisa asks his permission (―Can
we…?‖)
Henry
Polite but not intimate Blundering; does not know how to
compliment Elisa
Elisa hopes Henry will see how pretty
The film had 7 Academy
Henry Fonda (center) in The Grapes of Wrath.
Award nominations, 2 wins: Best Supporting Actress (Jane Darwell) Best Director (John Ford).
Hபைடு நூலகம்nry
Unit15 The Chrysanthemums 课文翻译
Unit15 The Chrysanthemums年轻媳妇伊利莎住在一家偏僻的农场，一手高超的种花技能令她自豪。
一天，她突然有了与外界交流的愿望。
有什么故事发生呢？请您往下看。
飘荡在半空中的冬雾呈现出灰法兰绒色，将萨利纳斯山谷严实地罩了起来；同时也把它与外界分隔开。
雾气锁着山头，四面象顶盖子，而山谷则成了一口盖得严严实实的深锅。
农民在宽阔平坦的土地上深耕，犁铧过处，黑色的土地闪着金属的光泽。
在横卧萨利纳斯河的丘陵地上，农场里的茬地泛着黄色，象是沐浴在冷冷的苍白日光下；不过，现在时至腊月，山谷里没什么阳光。
河边上密密麻麻的柳丛上的黄叶颜色鲜浓，象着了火似的。
这是一个安静，叫人等待的季节。
空气凉凉的，柔柔的。
从西南方向吹来一阵轻风，农民们隐隐地感到不久会有一场及时雨，但雨和雾是不一起来的。
河对岸亨利·埃伦家位于丘陵上的农场里已经没什么活计了：干草都收割过并存放了起来，果园业已深翻过，好等到有雨的时候浇个透底墒。
高处山坡上的牛变得毛皮杂乱粗糙。
伊利莎·埃伦正在花园里干活儿，穿过院子朝远处望时，她看见丈夫亨利正在与两个身着工作服的人交谈。
三个人都站在拖拉机棚边上，一只脚蹬在那辆小型福特牌拖拉机的一侧。
说话的时候，他们边抽着烟，边打量拖拉机。
伊利莎看了他们一会儿，又继续忙自己的活儿。
她今年三十五岁，脸庞瘦俏并透着坚毅，一双眼睛清澈如水。
由于穿着园艺工作服，她显得鼓囊囊的、有点儿笨拙。
她头上戴着一顶男式的黑帽子，拉得很低，直到她的眼睛。
脚上是一双粗笨的鞋子。
下面穿的印花裙子几乎全给那个大号的灯心绒围裙遮盖了起来。
围裙上有四个大口袋，用来放她干活时用的剪刀、泥铲、刮管器、种子和刀。
干活时她戴着厚厚的皮手套，免得弄伤手。
她这会儿正用一把锋利的小剪子把去年的菊花枝剪短，还不时朝站在拖拉机棚边上的三个男人望一望。
她的脸上充满着渴望，看起来成熟漂亮——甚至连她拿着剪刀干活的样子都显得那么有力，饱含期待，以至于那些菊花的枯杆相比之下都显得纤细柔弱，容易收拾了。
The-Chrysanthemums(菊花)简介
sad people, and he also showed his sympathy for these people whose life is in low level.The Chrysanthemums is a short story from his collection The Long Valley first published in 1938. It was set in John Steinbeck’s hometown, the Salina’s valley in California. It is a story about a poor woman called Elisa Allen who was suppressed by the life for a long time. Elisa Allen and her husband Henry live peacefully on their farm. When Elisa is busy with her chrysanthemums in the garden, a tinker passes by and asks for work .She refused directly. Later when the man enquires about her chrysanthemums and asks for some “seeds” to bring to“a lady”, Elisa gets emotional and finds him two pots to mend. The tinker drives away with fifty cents and the cuttings. When riding on the road with her husband, Elisa sees the chrysanthemum shoots she sent to the "lady" thrown on the road. She is dismayed and cries sadly.And the main characters in the novel are concluded as following.Elisa AllenA passionate woman who leads an unsatisfying life. As a result, she devotes all of her energy to maintaining her house and garden. Elisa is so frustrated with life that she readily looks for stimulating conversation and even sex.The TinkerHe is clever and canny enough to convince the skeptical Elisa to give him work, begging at first and finally resorting to flattery. In fact, he is just a con man.Henry AllenElisa’s husband, Henry, is everything a woman should want in a husband by the standards of his society. He provides for her, treats her with respect. However, Henry is also stolid and unimaginative. Henry functions in the story as a stand-in for patriarchal society as a whole. He believes that a strict line separates the sexes.And the theme of this passage is the critique of the society for there is no place for intelligent women to realize their values. Elisa is smart and energetic, but she is limited by her sex. By the contrast, her husband, Henry is not smart as her, but he runs the ranch to support the family. Steinbeck uses Henry and the tinker as stand-ins for the paternalism of patriarchal societies in general: just as they ignore women’s potential, so too does society. It is an inequality of gender.Besides, John Steinbeck uses many symbols in this passage.1. At the beginning, the Salinas Valley symbol izes Elisa’s emotional life. The story opens with a lengthy description of the valley. The valley was closed of the high-flannel gray fog of winter. This symbolized that Elisa’s life was suppressed buy the in equality of the gender. She can not realize her intelligence just like the valley can not show its beauty because of the annoyed high-flannel gray fog of winter.2.The chrysanthemums symbolize both Elisa and the limited scope of her life. The chrysanthemums are beautiful, strong, and thriving, like Elisa Allen.Elisa identifies herself with the flowers, even saying that she becomes one with the plants when she tends to them.She offers the chrysanthemums to thinker at the same time she offers herself, both of which heignores and tosses aside Just like her, the flowers are unimportant: both are merely decorative and add little value to the world.3.Fences symbolize the barriers that separate Elisa from the rest of the world, including her husband Henry. Her fences protect flower garden from cattle, dogs, and chickens which represent her husband’s world while her flower garden represents Elisa’s world.4. Elisa’s clothing changes as her handsome, masculine persona becomes more feminine after the visit from the tinker. When the story begins, Elisa is wearing a gardening outfit, complete with heavy shoes, thick gloves, a man’s hat, and an apron filled with sharp implements. The narrator even describes her body as “blocked and heavy.” At the later passage, after Elisa changes her cloth, feminine items contrast sharply with her gardening clothes and reflect the newly Elisa. At the end of the story, after Elisa has seen the castoff shoots, she pulls up her coat collar to hide her tears, a gesture that suggests a move backward into the repressed state in which she has lived most, if not all, of her adult life.5.Elisa lets the tinker into the yard; she goes and gets a bright red flower pot. The red is important here because red is the symbol of power and passion. At this point in the story, Elisa is beginning to feel her own power. She is realizing she can bring forth life in her flowers, even if she is not powerful in other aspects of her life. Also, since the encounter with the tinker is likened to a sexual experience, the red flower pot is significant of their passion. The pot is symbolic of her self and her feelings.This passage uses the third person point of view to tell the story clearly and not limited by the time, place or characters.As for me, I think the passage encouraged all intelligent woman to realize their values and critic the social limitation for the women.。
菊花作文优美550字以上
菊花作文优美550字以上英文回答：The Chrysanthemum.Chrysanthemums are a type of flower that is widely known for its beauty and elegance. They come in various colors, such as white, yellow, pink, and purple, and are often used as decorative flowers in gardens and floral arrangements.Chrysanthemums are native to Asia and have a long history of cultivation in countries like China and Japan. In fact, they are considered the national flower of Japan and are highly revered in their culture. The Japanese even have a festival called "Chrysanthemum Festival" where they celebrate the beauty and significance of this flower.The chrysanthemum is not only beautiful but also has symbolic meanings. In many cultures, it is associated withlongevity, happiness, and good luck. It is often given as a gift to wish someone a long and prosperous life. In addition, chrysanthemums are also believed to have healing properties and are used in traditional medicine to treat various ailments.In terms of cultivation, chrysanthemums are relatively easy to grow. They prefer well-drained soil and require regular watering and sunlight. With proper care, they can bloom for several weeks, adding a touch of beauty to any garden or floral arrangement.中文回答：菊花。
美国作家斯坦贝克的《菊花》全英文分析PPT课件
Plot
Climax: ➢Elisa sees the chrysanthemums and dirt discarded on the road:
• “Far ahead on the road Elisa saw a dark speck. She knew.”
Resolution: ➢Elisa realizes she is not so strong, and she breaks down in weak tears ''like an old woman.''
6
John Steinbeck
Married 3 times, had 2 children with 2nd wife
Steinbeck was a private person who shunned publicity.
Later works include: Cannery Row (1945), The Pearl (1947), East of Eden (1952), Travels with Charley (1962).
Steinbeck won a Pulitzer Prize, a
National Book Award and the Nobel
Prizs
of Wrath.
4
The Grapes of Wrath
In 1940, director John Ford's released his adaptation of The Grapes of Wrath.
3
John Steinbeck
Most significant work: The Grapes of Wrath (novel) 1939
the-chrysanthemums翻译-泛读
年轻媳妇伊利莎住在一家偏僻的农场，一手高超的种花技能令她自豪。
一天，她突然有了与外界交流的愿望。
有什么故事发生呢？请您往下看。
飘荡在半空中的冬雾呈现出灰法兰绒色，将萨利纳斯山谷严实地罩了起来；同时也把它与外界分隔开。
雾气锁着山头，四面象顶盖子，而山谷则成了一口盖得严严实实的深锅。
农民在宽阔平坦的土地上深耕，犁铧过处，黑色的土地闪着金属的光泽。
在横卧萨利纳斯河的丘陵地上，农场里的茬地泛着黄色，象是沐浴在冷冷的苍白日光下；不过，现在时至腊月，山谷里没什么阳光。
河边上密密麻麻的柳丛上的黄叶颜色鲜浓，象着了火似的。
这是一个安静，叫人等待的季节。
空气凉凉的，柔柔的。
从西南方向吹来一阵轻风，农民们隐隐地感到不久会有一场及时雨，但雨和雾是不一起来的。
河对岸亨利·埃伦家位于丘陵上的农场里已经没什么活计了：干草都收割过并存放了起来，果园业已深翻过，好等到有雨的时候浇个透底墒。
高处山坡上的牛变得毛皮杂乱粗糙。
伊利莎·埃伦正在花园里干活儿，穿过院子朝远处望时，她看见丈夫亨利正在与两个身着工作服的人交谈。
三个人都站在拖拉机棚边上，一只脚蹬在那辆小型福特牌拖拉机的一侧。
说话的时候，他们边抽着烟，边打量拖拉机。
伊利莎看了他们一会儿，又继续忙自己的活儿。
她今年三十五岁，脸庞瘦俏并透着坚毅，一双眼睛清澈如水。
由于穿着园艺工作服，她显得鼓囊囊的、有点儿笨拙。
她头上戴着一顶男式的黑帽子，拉得很低，直到她的眼睛。
脚上是一双粗笨的鞋子。
下面穿的印花裙子几乎全给那个大号的灯心绒围裙遮盖了起来。
围裙上有四个大口袋，用来放她干活时用的剪刀、泥铲、刮管器、种子和刀。
干活时她戴着厚厚的皮手套，免得弄伤手。
她这会儿正用一把锋利的小剪子把去年的菊花枝剪短，还不时朝站在拖拉机棚边上的三个男人望一望。
她的脸上充满着渴望，看起来成熟漂亮——甚至连她拿着剪刀干活的样子都显得那么有力，饱含期待，以至于那些菊花的枯杆相比之下都显得纤细柔弱，容易收拾了。
读 THE CHRYSANTHEMUMS有感
读THE CHRYSANTHEMUMS有感工实金恬32011020034 It’s just a simple story,and may just happened in a few hours. However, the story gives us a lot of impressions.In this story,all things happened around a poor country women.from the description we can see,this lady is ordinary and plain.Her daily life is simple and uninteresting.She suffered day by day in hard work and loveless family lives.Though in different countries and different period, she just looks like the country women in our country.Many of them may have no love with their husband,but they lived together in their whole lives.I have no ideal that if they are happy about this kind of lifestyle, maybe they just get used to that,After all,that’s the social status, and no one cares their feelings.It’s really a poor thing that lives in the world that personal emotions may be ignored.Back to this story, the author really use a lot of symbols in this story. Like “there is no sunshine in the valley in December”, i think it represent the cold dark heart of that lady.And the chrysanthemums just represent the hope of her. She took real good care of the flowers,and she’s so proud that she “got a gift with things”.Till now ,the flower is the only decoration in her life. She is so plain that she looks old and tough, though she was just 30+. She dressed like a man and does all the tough work that should’n be done by ladies. But she treats them like common work. That really surprise me. Maybe no one treats her like a women there in the farm, or maybe she has treated herself as a man for a long time. She can live good alone without anyone’ help.Elisa has no love to her husband i think, they treat their marriage as a tast. So that we can understand that she never dresses up,as every girl dresses for the one they love. In the dialogues between Elisa and her husband, we can find they see each other as a workmate. They talk with honorifics and there is no sense of intimate. The husband is stiff and serious. He will give his wife enough money and good living conditions. But he don’t know how to love her. The tragedy between them blame the two both, the find their problem but they never tried to fix it. The women never tell and the husband never ask. Or we can say the machismo forced him not to do that. Also , he can’t understand the spiritual sustenance of her wife--the flower. And even ask her not to do the unmeaning things,but plan some apple trees. Putting the spirity and money together really hurts.The couple shared the happiness together and plan the celebration as workmates. The benefit they got today may please the woman. So she should have behaved like the “lean and ranged mongrel dog” and “barked” at the teamsters. We can see at first she was hostiled to him,but after some talk she changed her mind. It must be the first person that cares her gifted craft and flowers for “nothing”. And the kind play boy guy is that different from her husband, when they talk he never refute her and ask with patience that makes her happy. Also it maybe the first time that she has chance to introduce the flowers and crash to someone else. She must be that exciting that she explain a lot, and even give him the flower she got that tough as a gift. We can all understand that we finally find someone has the same interest with us.The author almost use about 2pages to describe the confercation between the women and the teamsters. As a reader we can find out quickly that the man has no interesting in how to plant a flower, but as crazy as her that time,she was burst into happiness. The man who fall in love is blind, i believe that a moment the women may have the feeling like falling in love. She believe every word of the man, and finally the man got all he wants. We can’t say that the man cheat the lady, he just use his “gentle” to please a women. Interesting .I also discover that when the man say that he never follow the old way, and the women indicated that “That sounds like a nice kind of a way to live”. Of course she seems hoping for a new life, but something deep in her heart make her scared about changing.All after the conphercation, the woman is in good mood, she changed herself. It’s the first time she dressed and be in confident. She hasn’t forget the “dating” with her husband ,and though there is no love between them. She still do all the duty of a wife:preparing the water for bath,and the clother to wear. They have been family to each other, but that’s not the love she needs. And it’s hard for her to get any praise from her husband. After she hear that,first thing she does isn’t be happy, but doubt the intention of his husband. She doesn’t want to open her heart to her husband,and hand to believe that her husband tried to care about her, that’s so sad.In the very end, it’s a tough reality for the woman. Her flower , together with her fantasize are thrown away. Still no one understand her, and she’s still alone in her own world. Her sadness can tell no one ,as no one can get that. I don’t think she will cheer up again.Obviously the women is a tragety character, she suffer the life and never get the love she need. There are many causes, the society and herself may should blame most.。
菊花英文作文素材简短
菊花英文作文素材简短The chrysanthemum is a beautiful flower with a rich history and cultural significance. It is often used in traditional Chinese medicine and is also a symbol of longevity and rejuvenation.When it comes to chrysanthemums, there are many different varieties and colors to choose from. From vibrant yellows to deep purples, there is a chrysanthemum to suit every taste and preference.In addition to their beauty, chrysanthemums also have a pleasant, mild fragrance. This makes them a popular choice for bouquets and floral arrangements, as they can add a lovely scent to any room.Chrysanthemums are also known for their hardiness and resilience. They can thrive in a variety of climates and are relatively low-maintenance, making them a great choice for both experienced and novice gardeners.In many cultures, chrysanthemums are associated with honor and respect. In Japan, for example, the chrysanthemum is the symbol of the Emperor and the Imperial family, and is celebrated during the Festival of Happiness.Overall, chrysanthemums are a versatile and beautiful flower with a rich cultural significance. Whether used in medicine, as a decorative element, or as a symbol of honor, the chrysanthemum holds a special place in many people's hearts.。
The chrysanthemums 原文
The Chrysanthemumsby John SteinbeckElisa is a young married lady working on an isolated farm and proud of her skills in growing flowers. One day, she suddenly feels a desire to communicate with the outside world. What happens to her? Please read the following story.The high grey-flannel fog of winter closed off the Salinas Valley from the sky and from all the rest of the world. On every side it sat like a lid on the mountains and made of the great valley a closed 10pot. On the broad, level land floor the gang plows bit deep and left the black earth shining like metal where the shares had cut. On the foothill ranches across the Salinas River, the yellow stubble fields seemed to be bathed in pale cold sunshine, but there was no sunshine in the valley now in December. The thick willow scrub along the river flamed with sharp and positive yellow leaves.It was a time of quiet and of waiting. The air was cold and tender. A light wind blew up from the southwest so that the farmers were mildly hopeful of a good rain before long; but fog and rain do not go together.20Across the river, on Henry Allen's foothill ranch there was little work to be done, for the hay was cut and stored and the orchards were plowed up to receive the rain deeply when it should come.The cattle on the higher slopes were becoming shaggy and rough-coated.Elisa Allen, working in her flower garden, looked down across the yard and saw Henry, her husband, talking to two men in business suits. The three of them stood by the tractor shed, each man with one foot on the side of the little Fordson. They smoked cigarettes and studied the machine as they talked.Elisa watched them for a moment and then went back to her work. She was thirty-five. Her face was lean and strong and her eyes were as clear as water. Her figure looked blocked and heavy in 30her gardening costume, a man's black hat pulled low down over her eyes, clod-hopper shoes, a figured print dress almost completely covered by a big corduroy apron with four big pockets to hold the snips, the trowel and scratcher, the seeds and the knife she worked with. She wore heavy leather gloves to protect her hands while she worked.She was cutting down the old year's chrysanthemum stalks with a pair of short and powerful scissors. She looked down toward the men by the tractor shed now and then. Her face was eager and mature and handsome; even her work with the scissors was over-eager, over-powerful. The chrysanthemum stems seemed too small and easy for her energy.40She brushed a cloud of hair out of her eyes with the back of her glove, and left a smudge of earth on her cheek in doing it. Behind her stood the neat white farm house with red geraniums close-banked around it as high as the windows. It was a hard-swept looking little house with hard-polished windows, and a clean mud-mat on the front steps.Elisa cast another glance toward the tractor shed. The strangers were getting into their Ford coupe.She took off a glove and put her strong fingers down into the forest of new green chrysanthemum sprouts that were growing around the old roots. She spread the leaves and looked down among the close-growing stems. No aphids were there, no sowbugs or snails or cutworms. Her terrier fingers 50destroyed such pests before they could get started.Elisa started at the sound of her husband's voice. He had come near quietly, and he leaned over the wire fence that protected her flower garden from cattle and dogs and chickens."At it again," he said. "You've got a strong new crop coming." Elisa straightened her back and pulled on the gardening glove again: "Yes. They'll be strong this coming year." In her tone and on her face there was a little smugness. "You've got a gift with things," Henry observed. "Some of those yellow chrysanthemums you had this year were ten inches across. I wish you'd work out in the orchard and raise some apples that big." Her eyes sharpened. "Maybe I could do it, too. I've a 60gift with things, all right. My mother had it. She could stick anything in the ground and make it grow. She said it was having planters' hands that knew how to do it." "Well, it sure works with flowers," he said. "Henry, who were those men you were talking to?" "Why, sure, that's what I came to tell you. They were from the Western Meat Company. I sold those thirty head of three-year-old steers. Got nearly my own price, too.""Good," she said. "Good for you." "And I thought," he continued, "I thought how it's Saturday afternoon, and we might go into Salinas for dinner at a restaurant, and then to a picture show －to celebrate, you see." "Good," she repeated. "Oh, yes. That will be good." Henry put on his joking tone. "There's fights tonight. How'd you like to go to the fights?" "Oh, no," she said breathlessly.70"No, I wouldn't like fights." "Just fooling, Elisa. We'll go to a movie. Let's see. It's two now. I'm going to take Scotty and bring down those steers from the hill. It'll take us maybe two hours. We'll go in town about five and have dinner at the Cominos Hotel. Like that?" "Of course I'll like it. It's good to eat away from home." "All right, then. I'll go get up a couple of horses." She said, "I'll have plenty of time to transplant some of these sets, I guess."She heard her husband calling Scotty down by the barn. And a little later she saw the two men ride up the pale yellow hillside in search of the steers. There was a little square sandy bed kept for rooting the chrysanthemums. With her trowel she turned the soil over and over, and smoothed it and patted it firm. Then she dug ten parallel trenches to receive the sets. Back at the 80chrysanthemum bed she pulled out the little crisp shoots, trimmed off the leaves of each one with her scissors and laid it on a small orderly pile.A squeak of wheels and plod of hoofs came from the road. Elisa looked up. The country road ranalong the dense bank of willows and cottonwoods that bordered the river, and up this road came a curious vehicle, curiously drawn. It was an old spring-wagon, with a round canvas top on it like the cover of a prairie schooner. It was drawn by an old bay horse and a little grey-and-white burro.A big stubble-bearded man sat between the cover flaps and drove the crawling team. Underneaththe wagon, between the hind wheels, a lean and rangy mongrel dog walked sedately. Words werepainted on the canvas, in clumsy, crooked letters. "Pots, pans, knives, scissors, lawn mowers.90Fixed." Two rows of articles, and the triumphantly definitive "Fixed" below. The black paint had run down in little sharp points beneath each letter.Elisa, squatting on the ground, watched to see the crazy, loose-jointed wagon pass by. But it didn't pass. It turned into the farm road in front of her house, crooked old wheels skirling and squeaking.The rangy dog darted from between the wheels and ran ahead. Instantly the two ranch shepherds flew out at him. Then all three stopped, and with stiff and quivering tails, with taut straight legs, with ambassadorial dignity, they slowly circled, sniffing daintily. The caravan pulled up to Elisa's wire fence and stopped. Now the newcomer dog, feeling out-numbered, lowered his tail and retired under the wagon with raised hackles and bared teeth.100The man on the wagon seat called out, "That's a bad dog in a fight when he gets started." Elisa laughed. "I see he is. How soon does he generally get started?" The man caught up her laughter and echoed it heartily. "Sometimes not for weeks and weeks,” he said. He climbed stiffly down, over the wheel. The horse and the donkey drooped like unwatered flowers. Elisa saw that he was a very big man. Although his hair and beard were greying, he did not look old. His worn black suit was wrinkled and spotted with grease. The laughter had disappeared from his face and eyes the moment his laughing voice ceased. His eyes were dark, and they were full of the brooding that gets in the eyes of teamsters and of sailors. The calloused hands he rested on the wire fence were cracked, and every crack was a black line. He took off his battered hat.110"I'm off my general road, ma'am," he said. "Does this dirt road cut over across the river to the Los Angeles highway?" Elisa stood up and shoved the thick scissors in her apron pocket. "Well, yes, it does, but it winds around and then fords the river. I don't think your team could pull through the sand." He replied with some asperity, "It might surprise you what them beasts can pull through.""When they get started?" she asked. He smiled for a second. "Yes. When they get started." "Well,"said Elisa, "I think you'll save time if you go back to the Salinas road and pick up the highway there." He drew a big finger down the chicken wire and made it sing. "I ain't in any hurry, ma'am. I go from Seattle to San Diego and back every year. Takes all my time. About six months each way.I aim to follow nice weather."120Elisa took off her gloves and stuffed them in the apron pocket with the scissors. She touched the under edge of her man's hat, searching for fugitive hairs. "That sounds like a nice kind of a way to live," she said. He leaned confidentially over the fence. "Maybe you noticed the writing on my wagon. I mend pots and sharpen knives and scissors. You got any of them things to do?" "Oh, no,"she said quickly. "Nothing like that." Her eyes hardened with resistance. "Scissors is the worst thing," he explained. "Most people j ust ruin scissors trying to sharpen …em, but I know how. I got a special tool. It's a little bobbit kind of thing, and patented. But it sure does the trick." "No. My scissors are all sharp." "All right, then. Take a pot," he continued earnestly, "a bent pot, or a pot with a hole. I can make it like new so you don't have to buy no new ones. That's a saving for you." 130"No," she said shortly. "I tell you I have nothing like that for you to do."His face fell to an exaggerated sadness. His voice took on a whining undertone. "I ain't had a thingto do today. Maybe I won't have no supper tonight. You see I'm off my regular road. I know folks on the highway clear from Seattle to San Diego. They save their things for me to sharpen up because they know I do it so good and save them money." "I'm sorry," Elisa said irritably. "I haven't anything for you to do." His eyes left her face and fell to searching the ground. They roamed about until they came to the chrysanthemum bed where she had been working. "What's them plants, ma'am?" The irritation and resistance melted from Elisa's face. "Oh, those are chrysanthemums, giant whites and yellows. I raise them every year, bigger than anybody around 140here." "Kind of a long-stemmed flower? Looks like a quick puff of colored smoke?" he asked."That's it. What a nice way to describe them." "They smell kind of nasty till you get used to them,"he said. "It's a good bitter smell," she retorted, "not nasty at all." He changed his tone quickly. "I like the smell myself." "I had ten-inch blooms this year," she said.The man leaned farther over the fence. "Look. I know a lady down the road a piece, has got the nicest garden you ever seen. Got nearly every kind of flower but no chrysanthemums. Last time I was mending a copper-bottom washtub for her (that's a hard job but I do it good), she said to me, 'If you ever run across some nice chrysanthemums I wish you'd try to get me a few seeds.' That's what she told me.”Elisa's eyes grew alert and eager. "She couldn't have known much about 150chrysanthemums. You can raise them from seed, but it's much easier to root the little sprouts you see there." "Oh," he said. "I s'pose I can't take none to her, then." "Why yes you can," Elisa cried."I can put some in damp sand, and you can carry them right along with you. They'll take root in the pot if you keep them damp. And then she can transplant them." "She'd sure like to have some, ma'am. You say they're nice ones?" "Beautiful," she said. "Oh, beautiful." Her eyes shone. She tore off the battered hat and shook out her dark pretty hair. "I'll put them in a flower pot, and you can take them right with you. Come into the yard."While the man came through the picket gate Elisa ran excitedly along the geranium-bordered path to the back of the house. And she returned carrying a big red flower pot. The gloves were forgotten 160now. she kneeled on the ground by the starting bed and dug up the sandy soil with her fingers and scooped it into the bright new flower pot. Then she picked up the little pile of shoots she had prepared. With her strong fingers she pressed them into the sand and tamped around them with her knuckles. The man stood over her. "I'll tell you what to do," she said. "You remember so you can tell the lady." "Yes, I'll try to remember." "Well, look. These will take root in about a month. Then she must set them out, about a foot apart in good rich earth like this, see?" She lifted a handful of dark soil for him to look at. "They'll grow fast and tall. Now remember this: In July tell her to cut them down, about eight inches from the ground." "Before they bloom?" he asked. "Yes, before they bloom." Her face was tight with eagerness. "They'll grow right up again. About the last of September the buds will start."170She stopped and seemed perplexed. "It's the budding that takes the most care," she said hesitantly."I don't know how to tell you." She looked deep into his eyes, searchingly. Her mouth opened a little, and she seemed to be listening. "I'll try to tell you,” she said. “Did you ever hear of planting hands?" "Can't say I have, ma'am." "Well, I can only tell you what it feels like. It's when you're picking off the buds you don't want. Everything goes right down into your fingertips. You watch your fingers work. They do it themselves. You can feel how it is. They pick and pick the buds.They never make a mistake. They're with the plant. Do you see? Your fingers and the plant. You can feel that, right up your arm. They know. They never make a mistake. You can feel it. When you're like that you can't do anything wrong. Do you see that? Can you understand that?" She was 180kneeling on the ground looking up at him. Her breast swelled passionately. The man's eyes narrowed. He looked away self-consciously. "Maybe I know," he said. "Sometimes in the night in the wagon there －"Elisa's voice grew husky. She broke in on him, "I've never lived as you do, but I know what you mean. When the night is dark －why, the stars are sharp-pointed, and there's quiet. Why, you rise up and up! Every pointed star gets driven into your body. It's like that. Hot and sharp and －lovely." Kneeling there, her hand went out toward his legs in the greasy black trousers. Her hesitant fingers almost touched the cloth. Then her hand dropped to the ground. She crouched low like a fawning dog. He said, "it's nice, just like you say. Only when you don't have no dinner, it 190ain't." She stood up then, very straight, and her face was ashamed. She held the flower pot out to him and placed it gently in his arms. "Here. Put it in your wagon, on the seat, where you can watch it. Maybe I can find something for you to do." At the back of the house she dug in the can pile and found two old and battered aluminum saucepans. She carried them back and gave them to him."Here, maybe you can fix these."His manner changed. He became professional. "Good as new I can fix them." At the back of his wagon he set a little anvil, and out of an oily tool box dug a small machine hammer. Elisa came through the gate to watch him while he pounded out the dents in the kettles. His mouth grew sure and knowing. At a difficult part of the work he sucked his under-lip. "You sleep right in the 200wagon?" Elisa asked. "Right in the wagon, ma'am. Rain or shine I'm dry as a cow in there." "It must be nice," she said. "It must be very nice. I wish women could do such things." "It ain't the right kind of a life for a woman." Her upper lip raised a little, showing her teeth. "How do you know? How can you tell?" she said. "I don't know, ma'am," he protested. "Of course I don't know.Now here's your kettles, done. You don't have to buy no new ones." "How much?" "Oh, fifty cents'll do. I keep my prices down and my work good. That's why I have all them satisfied customers up and down the highway."Elisa brought him a fifty-cent piece from the house and dropped it in his hand. "You might be surprised to have a rival some time. I can sharpen scissors, too. And I can beat the dents out of 210little pots. I could show you what a woman might do." He put his hammer back in the oily box and shoved the little anvil out of sight. "It would be a lonely life for a woman, ma'am, and a scarey life, too, with animals creeping under the wagon all night." He climbed over the singletree, steadying himself with a hand on the burro's white rump. He settled himself in the seat, picked up the lines."Thank you kindly, ma'am," he said. "I'll do like you told me; I'll go back and catch the Salinas road." "Mind," she called, "if you're long in getting there, keep the sand damp." "Sand, ma'am?...sand? Oh, sure. You mean around the chrysanthemums. Sure I will." He clucked his tongue. The beasts leaned luxuriously into their collars. The mongrel dog took his place between the back wheels. The wagon turned and crawled out the entrance road and back the way it had come, along the river.220Elisa stood in front of her wire fence watching the slow progress of the caravan. Her shoulders were straight, her head thrown back, her eyes half-closed, so that the scene came vaguely into them. Her lips moved silently, forming the words "Good-bye －good-bye." Then she whispered, "That's a bright direction. There's a glowing there." The sound of her whisper startled her. She shook herself free and looked about to see whether anyone had been listening. Only the dogs had heard. They lifted their heads toward her from their sleeping in the dust, and then stretched out their chins and settled asleep again. Elisa turned and ran hurriedly into the house.In the kitchen she reached behind the stove and felt the water tank. It was full of hot water from 230the noonday cooking. In the bathroom she tore off her soiled clothes and flung them into the corner. And then she scrubbed herself with a little block of pumice, legs and thighs, loins and chest and arms, until her skin was scratched and red. When she had dried herself she stood in front of a mirror in her bedroom and looked at her body. She tightened her stomach and threw out her chest.She turned and looked over her shoulder at her back.After a while she began to dress, slowly. She put on her newest underclothing and her nicest stockings and the dress which was the symbol of her prettiness. She worked carefully on her hair, penciled her eyebrows and rouged her lips. Before she was finished she heard the little thunder of hoofs and the shouts of Henry and his helper as they drove the red steers into the corral. She heard 240the gate bang shut and set herself for Henry's arrival. His step sounded on the porch. He entered the house calling, "Elisa, where are you?" "In my room, dressing. I'm not ready. There's hot water for your bath. Hurry up. It's getting late."When she heard him splashing in the tub, Elisa laid his dark suit on the bed, and shirt and socks and tie beside it. She stood his polished shoes on the floor beside the bed. Then she went to the porch and sat primly and stiffly down. She looked toward the river road where the willow-line was still yellow with frosted leaves so that under the high grey fog they seemed a thin band of sunshine.This was the only color in the grey afternoon. She sat unmoving for a long time. Her eyes blinked rarely. Henry came banging out of the door, shoving his tie inside his vest as he came. Elisa 250stiffened and her face grew tight. Henry stopped short and looked at her. "Why －why, Elisa.You look so nice!" "Nice? You think I look nice? What do you mean by 'nice'?"Henry blundered on. "I don't know. I mean you look different, strong and happy.""I am strong? Yes, strong. What do you mean 'strong'?" He looked bewildered. "You're playing some kind of a game," he said helplessly."It's a kind of a play. You look strong enough to break a calf over your knee, happy enough to eat it like a watermelon." For a second she lost her rigidity."Henry! Don't talk like that. You didn't know what you said." She grew complete again. "I'm strong," she boasted. "I never knew before how strong." Henry looked down toward the tractor shed, and when he brought his eyes back to her, they were his own again. "I'll get out the car. You 260can put on your coat while I'm starting." Elisa went into the house. She heard him drive to the gate and idle down his motor, and then she took a long time to put on her hat. She pulled it here and pressed it there. When Henry turned the motor off she slipped into her coat and went out.The little roadster bounced along on the dirt road by the river, raising the birds and driving therabbits into the brush. Two cranes flapped heavily over the willow-line and dropped into the river-bed. Far ahead on the road Elisa saw a dark speck. She knew. She tried not to look as they passed it, but her eyes would not obey. She whispered to herself sadly, "He might have thrown them off the road. That wouldn't have been much trouble, not very much. But he kept the pot," she explained. "He had to keep the pot. That's why he couldn't get them off the road." The roadster 270turned a bend and she saw the caravan ahead. She swung full around toward her husband so she could not see the little covered wagon and the mismatched team as the car passed them. In a moment it was over. The thing was done. She did not look back. She said loudly, to be heard above the motor, "It will be good, tonight, a good dinner.""Now you're changed again," Henry complained. He took one hand from the wheel and patted her knee. "I ought to take you in to dinner oftener. It would be good for both of us. We get so heavy out on the ranch." "Henry," she asked, "could we have wine at dinner?" "Sure we could. Say! That will be fine." She was silent for a while; then she said, "Henry, at those prize fights, do the men hurt each other very much?" "Sometimes a little, not often. Why?" "Well, I've read how they break 280noses, and blood runs down their chests. I've read how the fighting gloves get heavy and soggy with blood." He looked around at her. "What's the matter, Elisa? I didn't know you read things like that." He brought the car to a stop, then turned to the right over the Salinas River bridge. "Do any women ever go to the fights?" she asked. "Oh, sure, some. What's the matter, Elisa? Do you want to go? I don't think you'd like it, but I'll take you if you really want to go." She relaxed limply in the seat. "Oh, no. No. I don't want to go. I'm sure I don't." Her face was turned away from him. "It will be enough if we can have wine. It will be plenty." She turned up her coat collar so he could not see that she was crying weakly －like an old woman.。
(完整版)Thechrysanthemums原文
The Chrysanthemumsby John SteinbeckElisa is a young married lady working on an isolated farm and proud of her skills in growing flowers. One day, she suddenly feels a desire to communicate with the outside world. What happens to her? Please read the following story.The high grey-flannel fog of winter closed off the Salinas Valley from the sky and from all the rest of the world. On every side it sat like a lid on the mountains and made of the great valley a closed 10pot. On the broad, level land floor the gang plows bit deep and left the black earth shining like metal where the shares had cut. On the foothill ranches across the Salinas River, the yellow stubble fields seemed to be bathed in pale cold sunshine, but there was no sunshine in the valley now in December. The thick willow scrub along the river flamed with sharp and positive yellow leaves.It was a time of quiet and of waiting. The air was cold and tender. A light wind blew up from the southwest so that the farmers were mildly hopeful of a good rain before long; but fog and rain do not go together.20Across the river, on Henry Allen's foothill ranch there was little work to be done, for the hay was cut and stored and the orchards were plowed up to receive the rain deeply when it should come.The cattle on the higher slopes were becoming shaggy and rough-coated.Elisa Allen, working in her flower garden, looked down across the yard and saw Henry, her husband, talking to two men in business suits. The three of them stood by the tractor shed, each man with one foot on the side of the little Fordson. They smoked cigarettes and studied the machine as they talked.Elisa watched them for a moment and then went back to her work. She was thirty-five. Her face was lean and strong and her eyes were as clear as water. Her figure looked blocked and heavy in 30her gardening costume, a man's black hat pulled low down over her eyes, clod-hopper shoes, a figured print dress almost completely covered by a big corduroy apron with four big pockets to hold the snips, the trowel and scratcher, the seeds and the knife she worked with. She wore heavy leather gloves to protect her hands while she worked.She was cutting down the old year's chrysanthemum stalks with a pair of short and powerful scissors. She looked down toward the men by the tractor shed now and then. Her face was eager and mature and handsome; even her work with the scissors was over-eager, over-powerful. The chrysanthemum stems seemed too small and easy for her energy.40She brushed a cloud of hair out of her eyes with the back of her glove, and left a smudge of earth on her cheek in doing it. Behind her stood the neat white farm house with red geraniums close-banked around it as high as the windows. It was a hard-swept looking little house with hard-polished windows, and a clean mud-mat on the front steps.Elisa cast another glance toward the tractor shed. The strangers were getting into their Ford coupe.She took off a glove and put her strong fingers down into the forest of new green chrysanthemum sprouts that were growing around the old roots. She spread the leaves and looked down among the close-growing stems. No aphids were there, no sowbugs or snails or cutworms. Her terrier fingers 50destroyed such pests before they could get started.Elisa started at the sound of her husband's voice. He had come near quietly, and he leaned over the wire fence that protected her flower garden from cattle and dogs and chickens."At it again," he said. "You've got a strong new crop coming." Elisa straightened her back and pulled on the gardening glove again: "Yes. They'll be strong this coming year." In her tone and on her face there was a little smugness. "You've got a gift with things," Henry observed. "Some of those yellow chrysanthemums you had this year were ten inches across. I wish you'd work out in the orchard and raise some apples that big." Her eyes sharpened. "Maybe I could do it, too. I've a 60gift with things, all right. My mother had it. She could stick anything in the ground and make it grow. She said it was having planters' hands that knew how to do it." "Well, it sure works with flowers," he said. "Henry, who were those men you were talking to?" "Why, sure, that's what I came to tell you. They were from the Western Meat Company. I sold those thirty head of three-year-old steers. Got nearly my own price, too.""Good," she said. "Good for you." "And I thought," he continued, "I thought how it's Saturday afternoon, and we might go into Salinas for dinner at a restaurant, and then to a picture show －to celebrate, you see." "Good," she repeated. "Oh, yes. That will be good." Henry put on his joking tone. "There's fights tonight. How'd you like to go to the fights?" "Oh, no," she said breathlessly.70"No, I wouldn't like fights." "Just fooling, Elisa. We'll go to a movie. Let's see. It's two now. I'm going to take Scotty and bring down those steers from the hill. It'll take us maybe two hours. We'll go in town about five and have dinner at the Cominos Hotel. Like that?" "Of course I'll like it. It's good to eat away from home." "All right, then. I'll go get up a couple of horses." She said, "I'll have plenty of time to transplant some of these sets, I guess."She heard her husband calling Scotty down by the barn. And a little later she saw the two men ride up the pale yellow hillside in search of the steers. There was a little square sandy bed kept for rooting the chrysanthemums. With her trowel she turned the soil over and over, and smoothed it and patted it firm. Then she dug ten parallel trenches to receive the sets. Back at the 80chrysanthemum bed she pulled out the little crisp shoots, trimmed off the leaves of each one with her scissors and laid it on a small orderly pile.A squeak of wheels and plod of hoofs came from the road. Elisa looked up. The country road ranalong the dense bank of willows and cottonwoods that bordered the river, and up this road came a curious vehicle, curiously drawn. It was an old spring-wagon, with a round canvas top on it like the cover of a prairie schooner. It was drawn by an old bay horse and a little grey-and-white burro.A big stubble-bearded man sat between the cover flaps and drove the crawling team. Underneaththe wagon, between the hind wheels, a lean and rangy mongrel dog walked sedately. Words werepainted on the canvas, in clumsy, crooked letters. "Pots, pans, knives, scissors, lawn mowers.90Fixed." Two rows of articles, and the triumphantly definitive "Fixed" below. The black paint had run down in little sharp points beneath each letter.Elisa, squatting on the ground, watched to see the crazy, loose-jointed wagon pass by. But it didn't pass. It turned into the farm road in front of her house, crooked old wheels skirling and squeaking.The rangy dog darted from between the wheels and ran ahead. Instantly the two ranch shepherds flew out at him. Then all three stopped, and with stiff and quivering tails, with taut straight legs, with ambassadorial dignity, they slowly circled, sniffing daintily. The caravan pulled up to Elisa's wire fence and stopped. Now the newcomer dog, feeling out-numbered, lowered his tail and retired under the wagon with raised hackles and bared teeth.100The man on the wagon seat called out, "That's a bad dog in a fight when he gets started." Elisa laughed. "I see he is. How soon does he generally get started?" The man caught up her laughter and echoed it heartily. "Sometimes not for weeks and weeks,” he said. He climbed stiffly down, over the wheel. The horse and the donkey drooped like unwatered flowers. Elisa saw that he was a very big man. Although his hair and beard were greying, he did not look old. His worn black suit was wrinkled and spotted with grease. The laughter had disappeared from his face and eyes the moment his laughing voice ceased. His eyes were dark, and they were full of the brooding that gets in the eyes of teamsters and of sailors. The calloused hands he rested on the wire fence were cracked, and every crack was a black line. He took off his battered hat.110"I'm off my general road, ma'am," he said. "Does this dirt road cut over across the river to the Los Angeles highway?" Elisa stood up and shoved the thick scissors in her apron pocket. "Well, yes, it does, but it winds around and then fords the river. I don't think your team could pull through the sand." He replied with some asperity, "It might surprise you what them beasts can pull through.""When they get started?" she asked. He smiled for a second. "Yes. When they get started." "Well,"said Elisa, "I think you'll save time if you go back to the Salinas road and pick up the highway there." He drew a big finger down the chicken wire and made it sing. "I ain't in any hurry, ma'am. I go from Seattle to San Diego and back every year. Takes all my time. About six months each way.I aim to follow nice weather."120Elisa took off her gloves and stuffed them in the apron pocket with the scissors. She touched the under edge of her man's hat, searching for fugitive hairs. "That sounds like a nice kind of a way to live," she said. He leaned confidentially over the fence. "Maybe you noticed the writing on my wagon. I mend pots and sharpen knives and scissors. You got any of them things to do?" "Oh, no,"she said quickly. "Nothing like that." Her eyes hardened with resistance. "Scissors is the worst thing," he explained. "Most people j ust ruin scissors trying to sharpen ‘em, but I know how. I got a special tool. It's a little bobbit kind of thing, and patented. But it sure does the trick." "No. My scissors are all sharp." "All right, then. Take a pot," he continued earnestly, "a bent pot, or a pot with a hole. I can make it like new so you don't have to buy no new ones. That's a saving for you." 130"No," she said shortly. "I tell you I have nothing like that for you to do."His face fell to an exaggerated sadness. His voice took on a whining undertone. "I ain't had a thingto do today. Maybe I won't have no supper tonight. You see I'm off my regular road. I know folks on the highway clear from Seattle to San Diego. They save their things for me to sharpen up because they know I do it so good and save them money." "I'm sorry," Elisa said irritably. "I haven't anything for you to do." His eyes left her face and fell to searching the ground. They roamed about until they came to the chrysanthemum bed where she had been working. "What's them plants, ma'am?" The irritation and resistance melted from Elisa's face. "Oh, those are chrysanthemums, giant whites and yellows. I raise them every year, bigger than anybody around 140here." "Kind of a long-stemmed flower? Looks like a quick puff of colored smoke?" he asked."That's it. What a nice way to describe them." "They smell kind of nasty till you get used to them,"he said. "It's a good bitter smell," she retorted, "not nasty at all." He changed his tone quickly. "I like the smell myself." "I had ten-inch blooms this year," she said.The man leaned farther over the fence. "Look. I know a lady down the road a piece, has got the nicest garden you ever seen. Got nearly every kind of flower but no chrysanthemums. Last time I was mending a copper-bottom washtub for her (that's a hard job but I do it good), she said to me, 'If you ever run across some nice chrysanthemums I wish you'd try to get me a few seeds.' That's what she told me.”Elisa's eyes grew alert and eager. "She couldn't have known much about 150chrysanthemums. You can raise them from seed, but it's much easier to root the little sprouts you see there." "Oh," he said. "I s'pose I can't take none to her, then." "Why yes you can," Elisa cried."I can put some in damp sand, and you can carry them right along with you. They'll take root in the pot if you keep them damp. And then she can transplant them." "She'd sure like to have some, ma'am. You say they're nice ones?" "Beautiful," she said. "Oh, beautiful." Her eyes shone. She tore off the battered hat and shook out her dark pretty hair. "I'll put them in a flower pot, and you can take them right with you. Come into the yard."While the man came through the picket gate Elisa ran excitedly along the geranium-bordered path to the back of the house. And she returned carrying a big red flower pot. The gloves were forgotten 160now. she kneeled on the ground by the starting bed and dug up the sandy soil with her fingers and scooped it into the bright new flower pot. Then she picked up the little pile of shoots she had prepared. With her strong fingers she pressed them into the sand and tamped around them with her knuckles. The man stood over her. "I'll tell you what to do," she said. "You remember so you can tell the lady." "Yes, I'll try to remember." "Well, look. These will take root in about a month. Then she must set them out, about a foot apart in good rich earth like this, see?" She lifted a handful of dark soil for him to look at. "They'll grow fast and tall. Now remember this: In July tell her to cut them down, about eight inches from the ground." "Before they bloom?" he asked. "Yes, before they bloom." Her face was tight with eagerness. "They'll grow right up again. About the last of September the buds will start."170She stopped and seemed perplexed. "It's the budding that takes the most care," she said hesitantly."I don't know how to tell you." She looked deep into his eyes, searchingly. Her mouth opened a little, and she seemed to be listening. "I'll try to tell you,” she said. “Did you ever hear of planting hands?" "Can't say I have, ma'am." "Well, I can only tell you what it feels like. It's when you're picking off the buds you don't want. Everything goes right down into your fingertips. You watch your fingers work. They do it themselves. You can feel how it is. They pick and pick the buds.They never make a mistake. They're with the plant. Do you see? Your fingers and the plant. You can feel that, right up your arm. They know. They never make a mistake. You can feel it. When you're like that you can't do anything wrong. Do you see that? Can you understand that?" She was 180kneeling on the ground looking up at him. Her breast swelled passionately. The man's eyes narrowed. He looked away self-consciously. "Maybe I know," he said. "Sometimes in the night in the wagon there －"Elisa's voice grew husky. She broke in on him, "I've never lived as you do, but I know what you mean. When the night is dark －why, the stars are sharp-pointed, and there's quiet. Why, you rise up and up! Every pointed star gets driven into your body. It's like that. Hot and sharp and －lovely." Kneeling there, her hand went out toward his legs in the greasy black trousers. Her hesitant fingers almost touched the cloth. Then her hand dropped to the ground. She crouched low like a fawning dog. He said, "it's nice, just like you say. Only when you don't have no dinner, it 190ain't." She stood up then, very straight, and her face was ashamed. She held the flower pot out to him and placed it gently in his arms. "Here. Put it in your wagon, on the seat, where you can watch it. Maybe I can find something for you to do." At the back of the house she dug in the can pile and found two old and battered aluminum saucepans. She carried them back and gave them to him."Here, maybe you can fix these."His manner changed. He became professional. "Good as new I can fix them." At the back of his wagon he set a little anvil, and out of an oily tool box dug a small machine hammer. Elisa came through the gate to watch him while he pounded out the dents in the kettles. His mouth grew sure and knowing. At a difficult part of the work he sucked his under-lip. "You sleep right in the 200wagon?" Elisa asked. "Right in the wagon, ma'am. Rain or shine I'm dry as a cow in there." "It must be nice," she said. "It must be very nice. I wish women could do such things." "It ain't the right kind of a life for a woman." Her upper lip raised a little, showing her teeth. "How do you know? How can you tell?" she said. "I don't know, ma'am," he protested. "Of course I don't know.Now here's your kettles, done. You don't have to buy no new ones." "How much?" "Oh, fifty cents'll do. I keep my prices down and my work good. That's why I have all them satisfied customers up and down the highway."Elisa brought him a fifty-cent piece from the house and dropped it in his hand. "You might be surprised to have a rival some time. I can sharpen scissors, too. And I can beat the dents out of 210little pots. I could show you what a woman might do." He put his hammer back in the oily box and shoved the little anvil out of sight. "It would be a lonely life for a woman, ma'am, and a scarey life, too, with animals creeping under the wagon all night." He climbed over the singletree, steadying himself with a hand on the burro's white rump. He settled himself in the seat, picked up the lines."Thank you kindly, ma'am," he said. "I'll do like you told me; I'll go back and catch the Salinas road." "Mind," she called, "if you're long in getting there, keep the sand damp." "Sand, ma'am?...sand? Oh, sure. You mean around the chrysanthemums. Sure I will." He clucked his tongue. The beasts leaned luxuriously into their collars. The mongrel dog took his place between the back wheels. The wagon turned and crawled out the entrance road and back the way it had come, along the river.220Elisa stood in front of her wire fence watching the slow progress of the caravan. Her shoulders were straight, her head thrown back, her eyes half-closed, so that the scene came vaguely into them. Her lips moved silently, forming the words "Good-bye －good-bye." Then she whispered, "That's a bright direction. There's a glowing there." The sound of her whisper startled her. She shook herself free and looked about to see whether anyone had been listening. Only the dogs had heard. They lifted their heads toward her from their sleeping in the dust, and then stretched out their chins and settled asleep again. Elisa turned and ran hurriedly into the house.In the kitchen she reached behind the stove and felt the water tank. It was full of hot water from 230the noonday cooking. In the bathroom she tore off her soiled clothes and flung them into the corner. And then she scrubbed herself with a little block of pumice, legs and thighs, loins and chest and arms, until her skin was scratched and red. When she had dried herself she stood in front of a mirror in her bedroom and looked at her body. She tightened her stomach and threw out her chest.She turned and looked over her shoulder at her back.After a while she began to dress, slowly. She put on her newest underclothing and her nicest stockings and the dress which was the symbol of her prettiness. She worked carefully on her hair, penciled her eyebrows and rouged her lips. Before she was finished she heard the little thunder of hoofs and the shouts of Henry and his helper as they drove the red steers into the corral. She heard 240the gate bang shut and set herself for Henry's arrival. His step sounded on the porch. He entered the house calling, "Elisa, where are you?" "In my room, dressing. I'm not ready. There's hot water for your bath. Hurry up. It's getting late."When she heard him splashing in the tub, Elisa laid his dark suit on the bed, and shirt and socks and tie beside it. She stood his polished shoes on the floor beside the bed. Then she went to the porch and sat primly and stiffly down. She looked toward the river road where the willow-line was still yellow with frosted leaves so that under the high grey fog they seemed a thin band of sunshine.This was the only color in the grey afternoon. She sat unmoving for a long time. Her eyes blinked rarely. Henry came banging out of the door, shoving his tie inside his vest as he came. Elisa 250stiffened and her face grew tight. Henry stopped short and looked at her. "Why －why, Elisa.You look so nice!" "Nice? You think I look nice? What do you mean by 'nice'?"Henry blundered on. "I don't know. I mean you look different, strong and happy.""I am strong? Yes, strong. What do you mean 'strong'?" He looked bewildered. "You're playing some kind of a game," he said helplessly."It's a kind of a play. You look strong enough to break a calf over your knee, happy enough to eat it like a watermelon." For a second she lost her rigidity."Henry! Don't talk like that. You didn't know what you said." She grew complete again. "I'm strong," she boasted. "I never knew before how strong." Henry looked down toward the tractor shed, and when he brought his eyes back to her, they were his own again. "I'll get out the car. You 260can put on your coat while I'm starting." Elisa went into the house. She heard him drive to the gate and idle down his motor, and then she took a long time to put on her hat. She pulled it here and pressed it there. When Henry turned the motor off she slipped into her coat and went out.The little roadster bounced along on the dirt road by the river, raising the birds and driving therabbits into the brush. Two cranes flapped heavily over the willow-line and dropped into the river-bed. Far ahead on the road Elisa saw a dark speck. She knew. She tried not to look as they passed it, but her eyes would not obey. She whispered to herself sadly, "He might have thrown them off the road. That wouldn't have been much trouble, not very much. But he kept the pot," she explained. "He had to keep the pot. That's why he couldn't get them off the road." The roadster 270turned a bend and she saw the caravan ahead. She swung full around toward her husband so she could not see the little covered wagon and the mismatched team as the car passed them. In a moment it was over. The thing was done. She did not look back. She said loudly, to be heard above the motor, "It will be good, tonight, a good dinner.""Now you're changed again," Henry complained. He took one hand from the wheel and patted her knee. "I ought to take you in to dinner oftener. It would be good for both of us. We get so heavy out on the ranch." "Henry," she asked, "could we have wine at dinner?" "Sure we could. Say! That will be fine." She was silent for a while; then she said, "Henry, at those prize fights, do the men hurt each other very much?" "Sometimes a little, not often. Why?" "Well, I've read how they break 280noses, and blood runs down their chests. I've read how the fighting gloves get heavy and soggy with blood." He looked around at her. "What's the matter, Elisa? I didn't know you read things like that." He brought the car to a stop, then turned to the right over the Salinas River bridge. "Do any women ever go to the fights?" she asked. "Oh, sure, some. What's the matter, Elisa? Do you want to go? I don't think you'd like it, but I'll take you if you really want to go." She relaxed limply in the seat. "Oh, no. No. I don't want to go. I'm sure I don't." Her face was turned away from him. "It will be enough if we can have wine. It will be plenty." She turned up her coat collar so he could not see that she was crying weakly －like an old woman.。
The Chrysanthemums 课文超级详解 菊花 英语泛读第四册第三版
Symbols
★
chrysanthemums
The chrysanthemums symbolize both Elisa and the limited scope of her life. Like Elisa, the chrysanthemums are lovely, strong, and thriving.
''like an old woman.''
Characters
Elisa Henry
The Tinker
Elisa
She sees herself growing old in the same isolated, stifling environment.
She cries like an old woman
Structure
1.beginning:paragraph 1 to 26
★Story opens with Elisa and Henry both hard at work on their farm in the valley.
2.development:paragraph 27 to 93
2.“Elisa started at the sound of her husband's voice. He had come near quietly, and he leaned over the wire fence that protected her flower garden from cattle and dogs and chickens.”
Words
sedately[英][sɪ'deɪtlɪ][美 ][sɪ'deɪtlɪ] adv.镇静地，安详地; But, as china's economy begins to grow more sedately, more such unrest is looming. 然而，随着中国经济逐渐走稳，类 似动荡都蠢蠢欲动了。
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criticism of human center and's praise of the human collective.
4.POETIC LANGUAGE At the same time of becoming a novelist John Steinbeck, also became a prose poet or writer of "poetic" writing characteristics.Steinbeck's work has a whole poetic -
greatest novelist alive,
people usually think of three names: William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway and Steinbeck".
into 12 kinds of foreign
maybe on the temperament of a poet, Steinbeck,
mistakenly choose to write essays for a living. "the choice of becoming a novelist John Steinbeck is conscious, he is
The Chrysanthemums
John Steinbeck
John Steinbeck, one of the most influential American writers of the 20th century. Many familiar with the people at the bottom of society, his works by their characters and performance of the underlying human kind, plain character, created the "Steinbeck type of hero" image.
Henry Allen Elisa's husband, Henry, is everything woman should want in a husband by the standards of his society. He provides for her, treats her with respect. However, Henry is also stolid and unimaginative. Henry functions in the story as a stand-in for partriarchal society as a whole. He believes that a strict line separates the sexes.
The meaning of "chrysanthemum"
• Elisa and chrysanthemum is the embodiment of the ecological feminism • Chrysanthemum makes up for the lack of child image in the marriage between Elisa and Henry • In fact, regardless of the chrysanthemum is the dream of representing love , or naive, the end there is only one burst. That is to say, in the patriarchal society, women are always in the weak position of being hit are trampled, the woman belongs to the man, in man, a woman is no feelings, no voice
interpret, critics generally think the best of his works is to write in the
30 s. Ecological criticism and feminist criticism is an important aspect of deconstruction and overthrow the binary opposition of civilization and nature, and argues that human and nature in harmony, ecological
whole now or the overall principle is one of the common principle of
ecological and ecological feminism, Steinbeck's ecological overall is mainly reflected on his indictment for human destroy the natural,
seen that Steinbeck's attitude towards women, Steinbeck was filled with compassion for them, and the white hope to them, they are new strength, as the power of the male, another extremely essential. Steinbeck's feminist consciousness and ecological feminist point of view corresponds to, we can say that Steinbeck inadvertently expressed the era of women's
characters Alisa Allen
A passionate woman who lives an unsatisfying life. As a result, she devotes all of her energy to maintaining her house and garden. Elisa is so frustrated with life that she readily looks for stimulating conversation and even sex.
plot
• Elisa Allan and her husband live peacefully on their farm. When Elisa is busy with her chrysanthemums in the garden, a tinker passes by and asks for work. She refused directly. Later when the man enquires about her chrysanthemums and asks for some "seed" to bring to "a lady" ,Elisa gets emotional and finds him two pots to mend. The tinker drives away with fifty cents and the cuttings. When riding on the road with her husband, Elisa sees the chrysanthemum shoots she sent to the "lady" thrown on the road. She is dismayed and cries sadly.
always a" troubadour
Achievement of honor
1962 Steinbeck won for the mice and men "by realism, lies in the creation of the imagination, show a sympathetic humor and sensitive observation to society" was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature.
The Tinker
He is clever and canny enough to convince the skeptical Elisa to give him work, begging at first and finally resorting to flattery. In fact, he is just a conman.
LITERARY FEATURES
1.SUBJECTS In Steinbeck's art world, under the poor material conditions to human beings, all the survival of the state of
the view and has a prominent, decisive position. This is
That's why we talk about his work "justified by poor" the origin of the topic.
2.FEMALE IMAGE Steinbeck in numerous works in the shape of different
female images.Basic on these female images can be