Two Kinds
Lesson 2 Two Kinds
“lilting”: A cheerful or lively manner of speaking, in which the pitch of the voice varies pleasantly
她似乎被这音乐吸引住了。这钢琴曲不长， 但有点狂乱，有着迷人的特点，乐曲一开 始是快节奏的，接着是欢快跳动的节拍， 然后又回到嬉戏的部分。
Para. 19 What did the girl see in the mirror? The true side prodigy side of me, a strong
character and an independent mind. What new thoughts did she have now? She had new thoughts which were filled
payments）
You could buy a house without any down payment, that is, completely on loan.
(Para. 4) We didn’t immediately pick the right kind of prodigy.
What were the warning signs?
Mother would think: If that Chinese girl could be a Shirley Temple-like prodigy, why not her own daughter?
Watching that girl’s performance, the mother had a new idea: to make her daughter learn the piano.
two kinds 总结
two kinds 总结问题，总结《两样东西》这篇小说的主题并提供一个1500-2000字的分析文章。
【两样东西】是美国华裔作家谭恩美于1989年创作的短篇小说，通过讲述一个华裔移民家庭之间的故事，探讨了文化冲突和母女关系的主题。
这篇文章将分步回答问题，并对主题进行深入分析。
【两样东西】以一个华裔女孩苏黛尔为主角，她的母亲坚信可以通过音乐培养出一个音乐天才。
故事以苏黛尔从小学音乐开始学习的场景开始。
从这一点就可以看出作者想要讨论的一个主要主题是文化冲突。
苏黛尔的母亲是一个典型的传统华裔移民，她希望自己的女儿能够接受她所熟悉的文化，并且继承她的价值观。
然而，苏黛尔与她的母亲之间存在着明显的代沟。
她对钢琴和音乐并没有真正的兴趣，并且逐渐变得越来越反感这个强加于她身上的责任。
这种文化冲突不仅体现在苏黛尔对音乐的态度上，还展现在她对其他事物的看法上，比如她对西方文化和流行音乐的热衷，以及她对母亲的期望感到困扰。
然而，在文化冲突的背后，【两样东西】也探索了一个更为深刻的主题，即母女关系。
小说中，苏黛尔的母亲对她的期望非常高，希望她成为一个音乐家。
她期望苏黛尔能够成为她从未实现的梦想的延续，而不管苏黛尔是否真的有兴趣或天赋。
这种期望使得母女之间的关系变得紧张和充满冲突。
苏黛尔感到被束缚，没有自由去选择自己的兴趣和梦想。
她渴望获得自己的身份和存在感，而不仅仅是她母亲的延续。
这种冲突最终导致了母女之间的疏离和分离。
谭恩美通过描写苏黛尔渴望追求自己的梦想，加入一个摇滚乐队并尝试新的事物，来表达这种分离的主题。
苏黛尔认识到她无法再按照母亲的期望生活，并坚定地遵循自己的内心声音。
最终，苏黛尔选择了离开钢琴课和结束与母亲的合作，以追求自己的梦想。
这个选择使得母女之间的矛盾达到了顶点，导致了最后的分离。
尽管她保留了对母亲的爱和感激，苏黛尔意识到她需要独立和追求自己的价值观。
综上所述，【两样东西】这篇小说通过剖析华裔移民家庭中的文化冲突和母女关系，探讨了个人追求和自我发现的重要性。
Lesson 2 Two Kinds
Grieg(1843-1907)
Norwegian composer
Subsection 4(Paras.29-46) Para.33 If she had as---be famous now.
如果她的脾气和才气一样大的话，她早就出 名了。
Para.34 ---always tapping---invisible orchestra.
用手指随着一支无形乐团的无声音乐打着拍 子。
Beethoven(1770-1827)
The world famous German composer Losing his hearing when he was only 28 years old
Para.38
keep time: to play a piece of music using the right rhythm and speed
这首钢琴曲不长有点狂乱有着迷人的特点乐曲一开始是快节奏的接着是欢快跳跃的节拍然后又回到嬉戏的部分
Lesson 2 Two Kinds
Amy Tan
Amy Tan
Amy Tan
Chinese American writer Born in Oakland, California, in 1952 Master’s degree in linguistics from San Jose State university A consultant to programs for disabled children, later a free-lance writer.
Para.22 She seemed to be---playful parts.
entrance: v.be very interested in and pleased with something that make someone feel that you pay a lot of attention mesmerize:make someone feel that they must watch or listen to because they are so interested
twokinds的中心思想
twokinds的中心思想
《Twokinds》是一部以奇幻为背景的网络漫画，它的中心思想可以概括为和解与团结。
这部漫画通过人类、兽人和其他各种种族的角色，以及他们之间的复杂关系，传达了几个核心主题。
首先，漫画强调了种族之间的和解。
故事的背景是一个充满了不同种族的世界，包括人类、兽人、狼人等等。
这些种族之间经常发生紧张关系和冲突，但《Twokinds》试图描绘一个更和谐的世界，其中种族之间能够和平共处。
通过人物之间的友谊和相互理解，漫画传达了种族之间和解的重要性。
其次，团结是《Twokinds》另一个重要的主题。
主人公们通常面临许多困难和挑战，但他们通过团结和合作，克服了各种障碍。
无论是面对外部威胁还是内部矛盾，他们始终相互支持，并通过团结的力量取得胜利。
漫画通过这种团结的精神，强调了团队合作和互助的重要性。
此外，个人成长也是《Twokinds》的中心思想之一。
主人公和其他角色们都经历了个人的成长和变化。
他们通过面对困难、学习从错误中汲取教训，逐渐发展成更加成熟和坚强的个体。
这种个人成长的过程在整个漫画中得到了精心描绘，并传达了努力、坚持和改变的重要性。
综上所述，《Twokinds》的中心思想可以归结为和解与团结。
two kinds的主题
two kinds的主题
《Two Kinds》是美国华裔女作家艾米丽·唐的一篇短篇小说，主要讲述了一个母亲和女儿之间的冲突和磨合。
本文的主题是“文化冲突与自我认同”。
首先，文化冲突是本文的主要主题之一。
小说中的母亲是一个中国移民，她希望自己的女儿可以成为一个钢琴家，以此来证明自己的成功和荣誉。
然而，女儿并不喜欢弹钢琴，她更喜欢自己的兴趣爱好。
这种文化冲突反映了移民家庭中常见的代沟和文化差异。
母亲希望女儿能够接受中国文化的传统价值观，而女儿则更愿意追求自己的兴趣和个性。
其次，自我认同也是本文的主题之一。
女儿在小说中试图找到自己的身份和自我认同。
她试图通过参加才艺比赛来证明自己的价值和才华。
然而，她的母亲并不理解她的想法，认为她的女儿不够努力，不够有天赋。
这种认知差异导致了母女之间的矛盾和冲突。
女儿最终意识到自己的价值和自我认同不仅仅取决于她的才华和成就，而是取决于她自己的选择和决定。
最后，本文还涉及到了家庭关系和亲情的主题。
母女之间的矛盾和冲突源于彼此的误解和沟通不畅。
然而，最终母亲和女儿还是找到了一种妥协和和解的方式，他们重新建立了亲密的关系。
这种和解和亲情的重要性也是本文的一个主题。
总之，《Two Kinds》通过母女之间的冲突和磨合，反映了文化冲突、自我认同
和家庭关系等主题。
这些主题都是人们在现代社会中面临的普遍问题，因此这篇小说具有普遍意义和启示意义。
two kinds 课文翻译
妈相信，在美国，任何梦想都能成为事实。
你可以做一切你想做的：开家餐馆，或者在政府部门工作，以期得到很高的退休待遇。
你可以不用付一个子儿的现金，就可以买到一幢房子。
你有可能发财，也有可能出人头地，反正，到处是机会。
在我九岁时，妈就对我说：“你也能成为天才。
你会样样事都应付得很出色的。
琳达姨算什么？她那女儿，只不过心眼多一点而已。
”妈将一切未遂的心愿、希望，都寄托在美国这片土地上。
她是在1949年来到美国的。
在中国，她丧失了一切：双亲，家园，她的前夫和一对孪生女儿。
但她对过去的一切，从不用悲恸的目光去回顾，眼前，她有太多的打算，以便将生活安排得更好。
二至于我将成为哪方面的天才，妈并不急于立时拍板定案。
起初，她认为我完全可以成为个中国的秀兰?邓波儿。
我们不放过电视里的秀兰?邓波儿的旧片子，每每这时，妈便会抬起我的手臂往屏幕频频挥动：“你——看，”这用的是汉语。
而我，也确实看见秀兰摆出轻盈的舞姿，或演唱一支水手歌，有时，则将嘴唇撅成个圆圆的“０”字，说一声“哦，我的上帝”。
当屏幕上的秀兰双目满噙着晶莹的泪珠时，妈又说了：“你看，你早就会哭了。
哭不需要什么天才！”立时，妈有了培养目标了。
她把我带去我们附近一家美容培训班开办的理发店，把我交到一个学员手里。
这个学生，甚至连剪刀都拿不像，经她一番折腾，我的头发，成了一堆稀浓不均的鬈曲的乱草堆。
妈伤心地说：“你看着，像个中国黑人了。
”美容培训班的指导老师不得不亲自出马，再操起剪刀来修理我头上那湿漉漉的一团。
“彼得?潘的式样，近日是非常时行的。
”那位指导老师向妈吹嘘着。
我的头发，已剪成个男孩子样，前面留着浓密的、直至眉毛的刘海。
我挺喜欢这次理发，它令我确信，我将前途无量。
确实刚开始，我跟妈一样兴奋，或许要更兴奋。
我憧憬着自己种种各不相同的天才形象，犹如一位已在天幕侧摆好优美姿势的芭蕾舞演员，只等着音乐的腾起，即踮起足尖翩然起舞。
我就像降生在马槽里的圣婴，是从南瓜马车上下来的灰姑娘……反正我觉得，我立时会变得十分完美：父母会称赞我，我再不会挨骂，我会应有尽有，不用为着没有能得到某样心想的东西而赌气不快。
twokinds-PPT文档资料
Analysis
Suyuan Woo (mother’s character)
Advantage: diligent , hopeful ,
Disadvantage: subjective , less communication , Others: collective , ….
景梅在美国出生并且成长，尽管有一个遵从中国 传统文化的母亲，却对中国文化陌生得很。出于 一种“望子成龙、望女成凤”的心态，景梅的母 亲希望景梅尽自己最大的努力，成为一个钢琴家， 能出名、得到社会广泛承认。当景梅得知母亲这 一决定后，她开始变得心慌意乱，潜意识里也产 生了反抗抵触情绪。随后的过程中她发现她即使 再努力也达不到母亲对她的殷切期望，因此她决 定不再按照母亲的吩咐去做，代之以我行我素， 只是想做她真正的自己。
Content of auther’s work
作者常以在美国出生的华裔女性为主角，这群华 裔女性不但面对种族认同的问题，还必须面对来 自父母的压力。母亲们来自战乱频繁的中国，通 常有段不堪回首的过去，来到新大陆之后，她们 把所有的希望寄托在女儿身上，“望女不成凤” 的心情却带给女儿们极大的压力；母亲们更用传 统方式管教女儿，传统的中国父母不习惯赞美小 孩，而且要求子女绝对服从，女儿们眼见美国父 母“民主式”的教育方式，再看到自己连英文都 说不好的母亲，心里更是愤愤不平。母女并非不 爱彼此，但碍于文化与年龄的隔阂，不是不知如 何表达关爱，就是表错了意，结果往往两个最亲 密的人，却往往对彼此造成最严重的伤害。
Two Kinds
By Aniee Coco Jerry Amy
author
谭恩梅（Amy Tan），著名美籍华裔 女作家，1952年出生于美国加州奥克 兰，曾就读医学院，后取得语言学硕 士学位。 作品：《喜福会》，《灶神之妻》， 《接骨师之女》，《沉默之鱼》。 她的第一部长篇小说《喜福会》奠 定其在文学界的声誉。《喜福会》生 动的描写了母女之间的微妙的感情。 本篇课文正来自于此。
two-kinds-英语读物
Two KindsAmy TanMy mother believed you could be anything you wanted to be in America. You could open a restaurant. You could work for the government and get good retirement. You could buy a house with almost no money down. You could become rich. You could become instantly famous. "Of course, you can be a prodigy, too," my mother told me when I was nine. "You can be best anything. What does Auntie Lindo know? Her daughter, she is only best tricky." America was where all my mother's hopes lay. She had come to San Francisco in 1949 after losing everything in China: her mother and father, her home, her first husband, and two daughters, twin baby girls. But she never looked back with regret. Things could get better in so many ways.We didn't immediately pick the right kind of prodigy. At first my mother thoughtI could be a Chinese Shirley Temple. We'd watch Shirley's old movies on TV as though they were training films. My mother would poke my arm and say, "Ni kan. You watch." And I would see Shirley tapping her feet, or singing a sailor song, or pursing her lips into a very round O while saying "Oh, my goodness." Ni kan," my mother said, as Shirley's eyes flooded with tears. "You already know how. Don't need talent for crying!" Soon after my mother got this idea about Shirley Temple, she took me to the beauty training school in the Mission District and put me in the hands of a student who could barely hold the scissors without shaking. Instead of getting big fat curls, I emerged with an uneven mass of crinkly black fuzz. My mother dragged meoff to the bathroom and tried to wet down my hair. "You look like a Negro Chinese," she lamented, as if I had done this on purpose. The instructor of the beauty training school had to lop off these soggy clumps to make my hair even again. "Peter Pan is very popular these days" the instructor assured m y mother. I now had bad hair the length of a boy's, with curly bangs that hung at a slant two inches above my eyebrows.I liked the haircut, and it made me actually look forward to my future fame.In fact, in the beginning I was just as excited as my mother, maybe even more so.I pictured this prodigy part of me as many different images, and I tried each one onfor size. I was a dainty ballerina girl standing by the curtain, waiting to hear the music that would send me floating on my tiptoes. I was like the Christ child lifted out of the straw manger, crying with holy indignity. I was Cinderella stepping from her pumpkin carriage with sparkly cartoon music filling the air. In all of my imaginings I was filled with a sense that I would soon become perfect: My mother and father would adore me.I would be beyond reproach. I would never feel the need to sulk, or to clamor for anything. But sometimes the prodigy in me became impatient. "If you don't hurry up and get me out of here, I'm disappearing for good," it warned. "And then you'll always be nothing."Every night after dinner my mother and I would sit at the Formica topped kitchen table. She would present new tests, taking her examples from stories of amazing children that she read in Ripley's Believe It or Not or Good Housekeeping, Reader's digest, or any of a dozen other magazines she kept in a pile in our bathroom. My mother got these magazines from people whose houses she cleaned. And since she cleaned many houses each week, we had a great assortment. She would look through them all, searching for stories about remarkable children. The first night she brought out a story about a three-year-old boy who knew the capitals of all the states and even the most of the European countries. A teacher was quoted as saying that the little boy could also pronounce the names of the foreign cities correctly. "What's the capital of Finland?” my mother asked me, looking at the story. All I knew was the capital of California, because Sacramento was the name of the street we lived on in Chinatown. "Nairobi!" I guessed, saying the most foreign word I could think of. She checked to see if that might be one way to pronounce Helsinki before showing me the answer. The tests got harder - multiplying numbers in my head, finding the queen of hearts in a deck of cards, trying to stand on my head without using my hands, predicting the daily temperatures in Los Angeles, New York, and London. One night I had to look at a page from the Bible for three minutes and then report everything I could remember."Now Jehoshaphat h ad riches and honor in abundance and...that's all I remember, Ma," I said. And after seeing, once again, my mother's disappointed face, something inside me began to die. I hated the tests, the raised hopes and failed expectations. Before going to bed that night I looked in the mirror above the bathroom sink, and I saw only my face staring back - and understood that it would always be this ordinary face - I began to cry. Such a sad, ugly girl! I made high - pitched noises like a crazed animal, trying to scratch out the face in the mirror. And then I saw what seemed to be the prodigy side of me - a face I had never seen before. I looked at my reflection, blinking so that I could see more clearly. The girl staring back at me was angry, powerful. She and I were the same. I had new thoughts, willful thoughts - or rather, thoughts filled with lots of won'ts. I won't let her change me, I promised myself. I won't be what I'm not. So now when my mother presented her tests, I performed listlessly, my head propped on one arm. I pretended to be bored. And I was. I got so bored that I started counting the bellows of the foghorns out on the bay while my mother drilled me in other areas. The sound was comforting and reminded me of the cow jumping over the moon. And the next day I played a game with myself, seeing if my mother would give up on me before eight bellows. After a while I usually counted only one bellow, maybe two at most. At last she was beginning to give up hope. Two or three months went by without any mention of my being a prodigy. And then one day my mother was watching the Ed Sullivan Show on TV. The TV was old and the sound kept shorting out. Every time my mother got halfway up from the sofa to adjust the set, the sound would come back on and Sullivan would be talking. As soon as she sat down, Sullivan would go silent again. She got up - the TV broke into loud piano music. She sat down - silence. Up and down, back and forth, quiet and loud. It was like a stiff, embraceless dance between her and the TV set. Finally, she stood by the set with her hand on the sound dial. She seemed entranced by the music, a frenzied little piano piece with a mesmerizing quality, which alternated between quick, playful passages and teasing, lilting ones. "Ni kan," my mother said, calling me over with hurried hand gestures. "Look here." I could see why my mother was fascinated by the music. It was being pounded out by a little Chinese girl, about nine years old, with aPeter Pan haircut. The girl had the sauciness of a Shirley Temple. She was proudly modest, like a proper Chinese Child. And she also did a fancy sweep of a curtsy, so that the fluffy skirt of her white dress cascaded t o the floor like petals of a large carnation. In spite of these warning signs, I wasn't worried. Our family had no piano and we couldn't afford to buy one, let alone reams of sheet music and piano lessons. So I could be generous in my comments when my mother badmouthed the little girlon TV. "Play note right, but doesn't sound good!" my mother complained "No singing sound." "What are you picking on her for?" I said carelessly. "She's pretty good. Maybe she's not the best, but she's trying hard." I knew almost immediately that I would be sorry I had said that. "Just like you," she said. "Not the best. Because you not trying." She gave a little huff as she let go of the sound dial and sat down on the sofa. The little Chinese girl sat down also, to play an encore of "Anitra's Tanz," by Grieg. I remember the song, because later on I had to learn how to play it.Three days after watching the Ed Sullivan Show my mother told me what my schedule would be for piano lessons and piano practice. She had talked to Mr. Chong, who lived on the first floor of our apartment building. Mr. Chong was a retired piano teacher, and my mother had traded housecleaning services for weekly lessons and a piano for me to practice on every day, two hours a day, from four until six.When my mother told me this, I felt as though I had been sent to hell. I whined, and then kicked my foot a little when I couldn't stand it anymore. "Why don't you like me the way I am?" I cried. "I'm not a genius! I can't play the piano. And even if I could, I wouldn't go on TV if you paid me a million dollars!" My mother slapped me. "Who ask you to be genius?" she shouted. "Only ask you be your best. For you sake. You think I want you to be genius? Hnnh! What for! Who ask you!" "So ungrateful," I heard her mutter in Chinese, "If she had as much talent as she has temper, she'd be famous now." Mr. Chong, whom I secretly nicknamed Old Chong, was very strange, always tapping his fingers to the silent music of an invisible orchestra. He looked ancient in my eyes. He had lost most of the h air on the top of his head, and he wore thick glasses and had eyes that always looked tired. But he must have been youngerthat I though, since he lived with his mother and was not yet married. I met Old Lady Chong once, and that was enough. She had a peculiar smell, like a baby that had done something in its pants, and her fingers felt like a dead person's, like an old peach I once found in the back of the refrigerator: its skin just slid off the flesh when I pickedit up. I soon found out why Old Chong had retired from teaching piano. He was deaf. "Like Beethoven!" he shouted to me: We're both listening only in our head!" And he would start to conduct his frantic silent sonatas. Our lessons went like this. He would open the book and point to different things, explaining, their purpose: "Key! Treble! Bass! No sharps or flats! So this is C major! Listen now and play after me!" And thenhe would play the C scale a few times, a simple cord, and then, as if inspired by an old unreachable itch, he would gradually add more notes and running trills and a pounding bass until the music was really something quite grand. I would play after him, the simple scale, the simple chord, and then just play some nonsense that sounded like a rat running up and down on top of garage cans. Old Chong would smile and applaud and say Very good! Bt now you must learn to keep time!" So that's how I discovered that Old Chong's eyes were too slow to keep up with the wrong notes I was playing. He went through the motions in half time. To help me keep rhythm, he stood behind me and pushed down on my right shoulder for every beat. He balanced pennies on top of my wrists so that I would keep them still as I slowly played scales and arpeggios. He had me curve my hand around an apple and keep that shame when playing chords. He marched stiffly to show me how to make each finger dance up and down, staccato, like an obedient little soldier. He taught me all these things, and that was how I also learned I could be lazy and get away with mistakes,lots of mistakes. If I hit the wrong notes because I hadn't practiced enough, I never corrected myself, I just kept playing in rhythm. And Old Chong kept conducting hisown private reverie. So maybe I never really gave myself a fair chance. I did pick upthe basics pretty quickly, and I might have become a good pianist at the young age. But I was so determined not to try, not to be anybody different, and I learned to play only the most ear-splitting preludes, the most discordant hymns. Over the next year I practiced like this, dutifully in my own way. And then one day I heard my mother andher friend Lindo Jong both after church, and I was leaning against a brick wall, wearing a dress with stiff white petticoats. Auntie Lindo’s daughter, Waverly, who was my age, was standing farther down the wall, about five feet away. We had grown up together and shared all the closeness of two sisters, squabbling over crayons and dolls. In other words, for the most part, we hated each other. I thought she was snotty. Waverly Jong had gained a certain amount of fame as "Chinatown's Littlest Chinese Chess Champion." "She bring home too many trophy." Auntie Lindo lamented that Sunday. "All day she play chess. All day I have no time do nothing but dust off her winnings." She threw a scolding look at Waverly, who pretended not to see her. "You lucky you don't have this problem," Auntie Lindo said with a sigh to my mother. And my mother squared her shoulders and bragged: "our problem worser than yours. If we ask Jing-mei wash dish, she hear nothing but music. It's like you can't stop this natural talent." And right then I was determined to put a stop to her foolish pride.A few weeks later Old Chong and my mother conspired to have me play in a talent show that was to be held in the church hall. But then my parents had saved up enough to buy me a secondhand piano, a black Wurlitzer spinet with a scarred bench. It was the showpiece of our living room. For the talent show I was to play a piece called "Pleading Child," from Schumann's Scenes From Childhood. It was a simple, moody piece that sounded more difficult than it was. I was supposed to memorize the whole thing. But I dawdled over it, playing a few bars and then cheating, looking upto see what notes followed. I never really listed to what I was playing. I daydreamed about being somewhere else, about being someone else.The part I liked to practice best was the fancy curtsy: right foot out, touch the rose on the carpet with a pointed foot, sweep to the side, bend left leg, look up, and smile. My parents invited all the couples from their social club to witness my debut. Auntie Lindo and Uncle Tin were there. Waverly and her two older brothers had also come. The first two rows were filled with children either younger or older than I was. The littlest ones got to go first. They recited simple nursery rhymes, squawked out tunes on miniature violins, and twirled hula hoops in pink ballet tutus, and when theybowed or curtsied, the audience would sigh in unison, "Awww, and then clap enthusiastically. When my turn came, I was very confident. I remember my childish excitement. It was as if I knew, without a doubt, that the prodigy side of me really did exist. I had no fear whatsoever, no nervousness. I remember thinking, This is it! This is it! I looked out over the audience, at my mother's blank face, my father's yawn, Auntie Lindo's stiff-lipped smile, Waverly's sulky expression. I had on a white dress, layered with sheets of lace, and a pink bow in my Peter Pan haircut. As I sat down, I envisioned people jumping to their feet and Ed Sullivan rushing up to introduce me to everyone on TV. And I started to play. Everything was so beautiful. I was so caught up in how lovely I looked that I wasn't worried about how I would sound. So I was surprised when I hit the first wrong note. And then I hit another and another. A chill started at the top of my head and began to trickle down. Yet I couldn't stop playing, as though my hands were bewitched. I kept thinking my fingers would adjust themselves back, like a train switching to the right track. I played this strange jumble through tothe end, the sour notes staying with me all the way. When I stood up, I discovered my legs were shaking. Maybe I had just been nervous, and the audience, like Old Chong had seen me go through the right motions and had not heard anything wrong at all. I swept my right foot out, went down on my knee, looked up, and smiled. The roomwas quiet, except for Old Chong, who was beaming and shouting "Bravo! Bravo! Well done!" By then I saw my mother's face, her stricken face. The audience clapped weakly, and I walked back to my chair, with my whole face quivering as I tried not to cry, I heard a little boy whisper loudly to his mother. "That was awful," and mother whispered "Well, she certainly tried." And now I realized how many people were inthe audience - the whole world, it seemed. I was aware of eyes burning into my back.I felt the shame of my mother and father as they sat stiffly through the rest of the show. We could have escaped during intermission. Pride and some strange sense of honor must have anchored my parents to their chairs. And so we watched it all. The eighteen-year-old boy with a fake moustache who did a magic show and juggled flaming hoops while riding a unicycle. The breasted girl with white make up who sang an aria from Madame Butterfly and got an honorable mention. And theeleven-year-old boy who was first prize playing a tricky violin song that sounded likea busy bee. After the show the Hsus, the Jongs, and the St. Clairs, from the Joy Luck Club, came up to my mother and father. "Lots of talented kids," Auntie Lindo said vaguely, smiling broadly. "That was somethin' else," my father said, and I wondered if he was referring to me in a humorous way, or whether he even remembered what I had done. Waverly looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. "You aren't a genius like me," she said matter-of-factly. And if I hadn't felt so bad, I would have pulled her braids and punched her stomach. But my mother's expression was what devastated me: a quiet, blank look that said she had lost everything. I felt the same way, and everybody seemed now to be coming up, like gawkers at the scene of an accident to see what parts were actually missing. When we got on the bus to go home, my father was humming the busy-bee tune and my mother kept silent. I kept thinking she wanted to wait until we got home before shouting at me. But when my father unlocked the door to our apartment, my mother walked in and went straight to the back, into the bedroom. No accusations, No blame. And in a way, I felt disappointed. I had been waiting for her to start shouting, so that I could shout back and cry and blame her for all my misery.I had assumed that my talent-show fiasco meant that I would never have to play the piano again. But two days later, after school, my mother came out of the kitchen and saw me watching TV. "Four clock," she reminded me, as if it were any other day.I was stunned, as though she were asking me to go through the talent-show torture again. I planted myself more squarely in front of the TV. "Turn off TV," she called from the kitchen five minutes later. I didn't budge. And then I decided, I didn't have todo what mother said anymore. I wasn't her slave. This wasn't China. I had listened to her before, and look what happened she was the stupid one. She came out of the kitchen and stood in the arched entryway of the living room. "Four clock," she saidonce again, louder. "I'm not going to play anymore," I said nonchalantly. "Why should I? I'm not a genius." She stood in front of the TV. I saw that her chest was heaving up and down in an angry way. "No!" I said, and I now felt stronger, as if my true self hadfinally emerged. So this was what had been inside me all along. "No! I won't!" I screamed. She snapped off the TV, yanked me by the arm and pulled me off the floor. She was frighteningly strong, half pulling, half carrying me towards the piano as I kicked the throw rugs under my feet. She lifted me up onto the hard bench. I was sobbing by now, looking at her bitterly. Her chest was heaving even more and her mouth was open, smiling crazily as if she were pleased that I was crying. "You want me to be something that I'm not!" I sobbed. " I'll never be the kind of daughter you want me to be!" "Only two kinds of daughters," she shouted in Chinese. "Those who are obedient and those who follow their own mind! Only one kind of daughter can live in this house. Obedient daughter!" "Then I wish I weren't your daughter, I wishyou weren't my mother," I shouted. As I said these things I got scared. It felt like worms and toads and slimy things crawling out of my chest, but it also felt good, that this awful side of me had surfaced, at last. "Too late to change this," my mother said shrilly. And I could sense her anger rising to its breaking point. I wanted see it spill over. And that's when I remembered the babies she had lost in China, the ones we never talked about. "Then I wish I'd never been born!" I shouted. " I wish I were dead! Like them." It was as if I had said magic words. Alakazam!-her face went blank, her mouth closed, her arms went slack, and she backed out of the room, stunned, as if she were blowing away like a small brown leaf, thin, brittle, lifeless.It was not the only disappointment my mother felt in me. In the years that followed, I failed her many times, each time asserting my will, my right to fall shortof expectations. I didn't get straight As. I didn't become class president. I didn't get into Stanford. I dropped out of college. Unlike my mother, I did not believe I could be anything I wanted to be, I could only be me. And for all those years we never talked about the disaster at the recital or my terrible declarations afterward at the piano bench. Neither of us talked about it again, as if it were a betrayal that was now unspeakable. So I never found a way to ask her why she had hoped for something so large that failure was inevitable. And even worse, I never asked her about whatfrightened me the most: Why had she given up hope? For after our struggle at the piano, she never mentioned my playing again. The lessons stopped The lid to the piano was closed shutting out the dust, my misery, and her dreams. So she surprised me. A few years ago she offered to give me the piano, for my thirtieth birthday. I had not played in all those years. I saw the offer as a sign of forgiveness, a tremendous burden removed. "Are you sure?" I asked shyly. "I mean, won't you and Dad miss it?" "No, this your piano," she said firmly. "Always your piano. You only one can play." "Well, I probably can't play anymore," I said. "It's been years." "You pick up fast," my mother said, as if she knew this was certain. " You have natural talent. You could be a genius if you want to." "No, I couldn't." "You just not trying," my mother said. Andshe was neither angry nor sad. She said it as if announcing a fact that could never be disproved. "Take it," she said. But I didn't at first. It was enough that she had offered it to me. And after that, every time I saw it in my parents' living room, standing in frontof the bay window, it made me feel proud, as if it were a shiny trophy that I had won back.Last week I sent a tuner over to my parent's apartment and had the piano reconditioned, for purely sentimental reasons. My mother had died a few months before and I had been begetting things in order for my father a little bit at a time. I put the jewelry in special silk pouches. The sweaters I put in mothproof boxes. I found some old Chinese silk dresses, the kind with little slits up the sides. I rubbed the old silk against my skin, and then wrapped them in tissue and decided to take them hoe with me. After I had the piano tuned, I opened the lid and touched the keys. It sounded even richer that I remembered. Really, it was a very good piano. Inside the bench were the same exercise notes with handwritten scales, the same secondhand m usic books with their covers held together with yellow tape. I opened up the Schumann book to the dark little piece I had played at the recital. It was on the left-hand page, "Pleading Child." It looked more difficult than I remembered. I played a few bars, surprised at how easily the notes came back to me. And for the first time, or so it seemed, I noticed the piece on the right-hand side, It was called "PerfectlyContented." I tried to play this one as well. It had a lighter melody but with the same flowing rhythm and turned out to be quite easy. "Pleading Child" was shorter but slower; "Perfectly Contented" was longer but faster. And after I had played them both a few times, I realized they were two halves of the same song.。
two kinds景梅的人物性格分析
two kinds景梅的人物性格分析《喜福会》是美国著名的华裔女作家谭恩美的第一部长篇小说，也是她的成名作，甫一出版即大获成功，当年曾经连续八个月荣登《纽约时报》畅销书排行榜，旋即改编为同名影片，影响深远。
小说描写了四位性格、命运各异的中国女性抛却国难家仇，移居美国，以及她们各自在美国出生、成长的女儿的生活经历。
作为第一代移民的母亲们虽已身在异国，却仍是彻头彻尾的中国女性，国难家仇可以抛在身后，却无法抛却与祖国的血脉亲情。
而在美国出生的女儿们，虽外表看来与母亲非常相像，却是在迥异于中华故国的价值观与环境下成长起来的，并不得不亲身承受两种文化与价值观的冲撞。
母女之间既有深沉执著的骨肉亲情，又有着无可奈何的隔膜怨恨，既相互关心又相互伤害。
不过，超越了一切的仍是共同的中华母亲，是血浓于水的母女深情。
在《喜福会》中展现的，是我们广大中国读者所笃知和熟悉的、中国式的传统的母女情：女儿们的孝顺，服从，忍耐，守礼，哪怕受到母亲的唾弃，但在母亲临终前，还是赶来送终，为了挽救母亲的生命，甚至不惜割下自己手臂上的肉给母亲作药。
而中国式的母爱，更是铺天盖地，震撼人心的伟大，是一种彻底、全部、忘我的牺牲，这在我们每个中国读者，也是深有体会的。
中国的母爱：从孩子生下来起，直到他(她) 成家，发展到近年父母们为儿女找对象、为他们张罗婚礼、婚房、办喜筵、生下孩子又帮助带，有的一家三口，做父母的都三四十岁了，却还要啃老过日。
可不管怎么，中国式的母爱，我以为是世上罕见的一种牺牲，她们之所以心甘情愿这样，是因为她们的母亲，母亲的母亲，就是这么一代一代过来的。
可那些美国女儿们：虽然也是黑头发黄皮肤，其中有一位已经有一半的白人血液，但她们生在美国，长在美国，是由“可口可乐和意大利面喂大的”。
她们不懂，或者只能讲不能读中文，也不了解中国，把“太原”错听成“台湾”，她们确是地地道道的美国人了。
这些美国女儿也笃爱着自己的母亲，却不能忍受她们中国母亲的铺天盖地、无孔不入的母爱。
现代大学英语精读5 lesson 2 Two_Kinds课件
的核心语言点。
教学内容 1. 热身 2．作者 教育与背景
3．作品赏析： Ø 结构分析 Ø 文学作品 Ø 扩展式讨论
如何赏析
4．写作技巧： Ø Ø 倒装句
省略疑问句和修辞疑问句
5．语言理解 Ø 核心词汇学习
6．课堂讨论
7．练与讲
教学重点 1. 文学作品的赏析；
2．文学中的修辞手法―― antithesis（反对）、 Anaphora(首语重复法)
授课教案:现代大学英语精读第5册
Unit Two Two Kinds
课程名称：高级英语
教学对象：英语专业本科三年级
教学目的 1. 了解作者及其背景知识；
2．熟悉本文使用的写作手法；
手法等
3．掌握修辞疑问句、倒装句等修辞
4．熟练掌握三类构词法；
5．通过深刻理解文章内涵，培养学
生社会洞察力和相关的讨论能力，同时掌握文中
1. tinged with sadness 2. having a taste that is a mixture of bitterness and sweetness
A bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past. 怀旧 对过去事物、人或环境苦乐参半的渴望
between two cultures. The mother, who was born and educated in China,represented Chinese culture and traditional value outlook, but the
daughter, who was born and educated in America, represented alien culture and value outlook. The title, which seems very simple, is profound
two kinds 课文翻译
妈相信，在美国，任何梦想都能成为事实。
你可以做一切你想做的：开家餐馆，或者在政府部门工作，以期得到很高的退休待遇。
你可以不用付一个子儿的现金，就可以买到一幢房子。
你有可能发财，也有可能出人头地，反正，到处是机会。
在我九岁时，妈就对我说：“你也能成为天才。
你会样样事都应付得很出色的。
琳达姨算什么？她那女儿，只不过心眼多一点而已。
”妈将一切未遂的心愿、希望，都寄托在美国这片土地上。
她是在1949年来到美国的。
在中国，她丧失了一切：双亲，家园，她的前夫和一对孪生女儿。
但她对过去的一切，从不用悲恸的目光去回顾，眼前，她有太多的打算，以便将生活安排得更好。
二至于我将成为哪方面的天才，妈并不急于立时拍板定案。
起初，她认为我完全可以成为个中国的秀兰?邓波儿。
我们不放过电视里的秀兰?邓波儿的旧片子，每每这时，妈便会抬起我的手臂往屏幕频频挥动：“你——看，”这用的是汉语。
而我，也确实看见秀兰摆出轻盈的舞姿，或演唱一支水手歌，有时，则将嘴唇撅成个圆圆的“０”字，说一声“哦，我的上帝”。
当屏幕上的秀兰双目满噙着晶莹的泪珠时，妈又说了：“你看，你早就会哭了。
哭不需要什么天才！”立时，妈有了培养目标了。
她把我带去我们附近一家美容培训班开办的理发店，把我交到一个学员手里。
这个学生，甚至连剪刀都拿不像，经她一番折腾，我的头发，成了一堆稀浓不均的鬈曲的乱草堆。
妈伤心地说：“你看着，像个中国黑人了。
”一团。
“彼得?潘的式样，近日是非常时行的。
”那位指导老师向妈吹嘘着。
我的头发，已剪成个男孩子样，前面留着浓密的、直至眉毛的刘海。
我挺喜欢这次理发，它令我确信，我将前途无量。
确实刚开始，我跟妈一样兴奋，或许要更兴奋。
我憧憬着自己种种各不相同的天才形象，犹如一位已在天幕侧摆好优美姿势的芭蕾舞演员，只等着音乐的腾起，即踮起足尖翩然起舞。
我就像降生在马槽里的圣婴，是从南瓜马车上下来的灰姑娘……反正我觉得，我立时会变得十分完美：父母会称赞我，我再不会挨骂，我会应有尽有，不用为着没有能得到某样心想的东西而赌气不快。
twokinds课后答案
twokinds课后答案【篇一：b2u3课文翻译及课后练习答案】s=txt>in-class reading born to win生而成功任何事都不可能由别人来教你，只能在别人的帮助下靠自己去发现。
——伽利略1 每个人生来都是独特的，与众不同的。
每个人天生都具有在生活中获得成功的能力。
每个正常人都能够看、听、触摸、品尝，并且思考自己的事情。
每个人都有自己的潜在特性——他的能力和局限。
每个人都能凭自己的本事成为举足轻重、会思考、明事理、富有创造性的人——一个成功的人。
2 “成功者”和“失败者”这两个词有多种意思。
当我们把一个人称作成功者时，我们所指的并不是一个通过优势控制他人、令其失败而获得成功的人，而是一个无论作为个体或是社会成员都能够让人信赖并能迅速地采取行动做出真诚回应的人。
失败者则是一个未能作出真诚回应的人。
3 很少有人总是成功或总是失败。
这（成败）只是一个程度的问题。
然而，一个人一旦具备了成为成功者的能力，他获得成功的次数就会更多。
4 对成功者来说成就不是最重要的；最重要的是真诚。
真诚的人知道自己的独特之处，也欣赏他人的独特之处。
5 成功者是不怕独立思考并运用自己的知识的人。
他能把客观事实与主观意见区分开来，而且不会装作能解决一切问题。
他倾听他人、评价他们所说的话，但他会得出自己的结论。
6 成功者能灵活变通。
他不会采用已有的、刻板的方式行事。
他能根据形势的需要改变自己的计划。
成功者热爱生活。
他乐于工作、喜爱游玩、享受美食、欣赏他人和自然带来的乐趣。
他心安理得地从自己的成就中享受乐趣。
他（也）毫无妒忌地欣赏他人的成绩。
7 成功者关心天下，关爱世人。
他关注社会上普遍存在的问题，努力提高生活质量。
即使面对国内和国际上的难题，他也不会认为自己是无能为力的。
他尽己所能使世界变得更美好。
8 尽管人们生来都具有成功的潜质，但也是生来就要完全依赖于所处环境的。
成功者会顺利地完成从依赖到独立的转变。
现代大学英语2two-kindsppt课件
Analyzing Characters’ Motivations
1. Why do you think the mother wants her daughter to be a prodigy? If you had a daughter, would you want her to be a prodigy? (Consider what the mother has gone through.) Why or why not?
❖ Plot: the story that is told in a novel or play or movie etc., which is the deliberately arranged sequence of interrelated events that constitute the basic narrative structure of a novel or short story
2. What happens when kids don’t live up to their parents’ expectations?
3. What can parents and children do to have a good relationship?
4. Do parents ever make their children do things so that they look good?
5. Why do you think the daughter refuses to continue her piano lessons? Would you do the same? Why or why not?
unit 2 two kinds
Introduction of The Joy Luck Club(3)
The different points of view enable us to look at the bittersweet mother-daughter relations from different angles. The mothers and daughters treat one another cautiously小心的, playing a game of love and fear, need and rejection.
Introduction of The Joy Luck Club(2)
•It tells stories about four pairs of mothers and daughters---Suyuan Woo and Jing-mei (June); Anmei Hsu and Rose; Lindo Jong and Waverly; Ying-ying St. Clair and Lena. These stories are told by seven voices, those of the mothers and daughters except for Suyuan Woo, who is dead when the story begins in the book.
“Two Kinds” is fiction. Although
this passage is taken from a novel 长篇小说, it can be read as a complete short story. It has a complete plot of its own.
《TwoKinds》读后感[五篇模版]
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《TwoKinds》读后感[五篇模版]第一篇：《Two Kinds》读后感The Bittersweetness in the StoryIn the story ‘two kinds’, the author wrote a story between a Chinese immigrant mother and her daughter.Their relationship is not very good, even many years of time is spent in silence.Because this Chinese immigrant mother always forced her daughter to do something that her daughter didn’t like.And the mother hoped her daughter could be a prodigy in the future.So, she forced her daughter to have piano training course and other texts at their home every day.However, her daughter didn’t like these training and she disappointed her mother again and again so that her mother lost her hope in the end and let her fly freely.Although since then, her daughter lived not very good and experienced many hardships.in the end of this story, when the daughter received a piano from her mother and played easier than before in her 30 years old birthday, she finally understood her moth er’s love.As far as I am concerned, the mother’s love for her daughter is bittersweetness, and in many times this love is bitter.Because the mother putting her into all kinds of training without asking her daughter’s permission.So her daughter felt very unhappy and in most of time she acted a rebel in their daily life.Finally, the contradictions between mother and daughter burst in a Chinese young people talent show, the daughter’s bad performance let her mother lose her hope and no longer forced her practice piano.And they live in silence for many years.So I believed that before the daughter’s 30 years old, she was living in a bitter.However, in my opinion, all of the turning point occurred in the daughter’s 30 years old birthday.Whenshe received a birthday gift from her mother, she played the piano again and found that the music which she played suddenly became easier than before.And then she understood her mother’s great effort of training her when she was young.Also at that time, she felt her mother’s lo ve is sweet although is was too late to understand that, because her mother couldn’t live with her and showed her love to her daughter.From conflicts to understanding each other, it took a very long time.In addition, mother’s bitter love in this daughter’s heart suddenly became sweet.In conclusion, story ‘two kinds’ showed us about love and hate between mother and daughter.Let us see a daughter’s bittersweetness life and the process of hate to understand her mother’s love.第二篇：读后感中国梦我的梦读《走复兴路圆中国梦》有感今天，我怀着激动的心情，拿着刚发下来的《走复兴路，圆中国梦》这本书，由此丰富了我对中国梦的解读。
two kinds原文和 翻译 two kinds译文
two kinds原文和翻译two kinds译文导读：就爱阅读网友为您分享以下“two kinds译文”资讯，希望对您有所帮助，感谢您对的支持!Two Kinds 译文妈相信，在美国，任何梦想都能成为事实。
你可以做一切你想做的：开家餐馆，或者在政府部门工作，以期得到很高的退休待遇。
你可以不用付一个子儿的现金，就可以买到一幢房子。
你有可能发财，也有可能出人头地，反正，到处是机会。
在我九岁时，妈就对我说：“你也能成为天才。
你会样样事都应付得很出色的。
琳达姨算什么？她那女儿，只不过心眼多一点而已。
” 妈将一切未遂的心愿、希望，都寄托在美国这片土地上。
她是在1949年来到美国的。
在中国，她丧失了一切：双亲，家园，她的前夫和一对孪生女儿。
但她对过去的一切，从不用悲恸的目光去回顾，眼前，她有太多的打算，以便将生活安排得更好。
至于我将成为哪方面的天才，妈并不急于立时拍板定案。
起初，她认为我完全可以成为个中国的秀兰·邓波儿。
我们不放过电视里的秀兰·邓波儿的旧片子，每每这时，妈便会抬起我的手臂往屏幕频频挥动：“你——看，”这用的是汉语。
而我，也确实看见秀兰摆出轻盈的舞姿，或演唱一支水手歌，有时，则将嘴唇撅成个圆圆的“0”字，说一声“哦，我的上帝”。
当屏幕上的秀兰双目满噙着晶莹的泪珠时，妈又说了：“你看，你早就会哭了。
哭不需要什么天才！”立时，妈有了培养目标了。
她把我带去我们附近一家美容培训班开办的理发店，把我交到一个学员手里。
这个学生，甚至连剪刀都拿不像，经她一番折腾，我的头发，成了一堆稀浓不均的鬈曲的乱草堆。
妈伤心地说：“你看着，像个中国黑人了。
”美容培训班的指导老师不得不亲自出马，再操起剪刀来修理我头上那湿漉漉的一团。
“彼得·潘的式样，近日是非常时行的。
”那位指导老师向妈吹嘘着。
我的头发，已剪成个男孩子样，前面留着浓密的、直至眉毛的刘海。
我挺喜欢这次理发，它令我确信，我将前途无量。
twokinds课后参考答案
twokinds课后参考答案twokinds课后参考答案twokinds是一部非常受欢迎的网络漫画，讲述了一个人类和猫人之间的冒险故事。
这部漫画深受读者喜爱，不仅因为其精美的插图和引人入胜的情节，还因为它引发了许多思考和讨论。
在这篇文章中，我们将提供一些twokinds课后参考答案，以帮助读者更好地理解和欣赏这部作品。
首先，让我们来讨论一些关于twokinds世界的基本概念。
在这个世界中，人类和猫人是两个不同的物种，他们有着不同的外貌和能力。
人类是普通的人类，而猫人则具有猫的特征，例如尖耳朵和尾巴。
这两个物种之间的关系并不总是友好的，他们之间存在着种族冲突和偏见。
然而，在twokinds的故事中，我们看到了人类和猫人之间建立友谊和合作的可能性。
主人公Trace是一个人类，他与猫人Flora成为了好朋友，并一起经历了许多冒险。
通过他们的故事，我们看到了人类和猫人之间的相互理解和接受是可能的，尽管存在着困难和挑战。
在twokinds中，作者Tom Fischbach通过角色的发展和情节的推进，探讨了许多重要的主题。
其中一个主题是身份认同和自我接受。
主人公Trace一开始对自己的身份感到困惑，因为他是一个人类，但他也具有猫人的能力。
随着故事的发展，Trace逐渐接受了自己的特殊身份，并学会了利用自己的能力。
另一个重要的主题是友谊和团队合作。
Trace和Flora之间的友谊是整个故事的核心。
他们互相支持，共同面对各种挑战。
通过这个故事，我们看到了友谊的力量和团队合作的重要性。
这个主题在现实生活中同样适用，它提醒我们要珍惜和培养我们的友谊，并学会与他人合作。
除了这些主题外，twokinds还涉及到一些道德和伦理问题。
例如，故事中有一些角色试图通过暴力和压迫来解决问题，而其他角色则主张和平和谅解。
这引发了关于正义和道德的讨论，让读者思考什么是正确的行为方式。
总的来说，twokinds是一部非常有趣和引人入胜的漫画。
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3 Elements from Novel can be read of a novel, it Although “Two Kinds” is taken
as a complete short story. Being a story, it must have 3 elements of its own. The 3 elements mean characters, plots and environments. Characters can be divided into major ones and miner ones. A major character can be called either as a hero or a heroine. The hero means a major male character , and the heroine refers to a major female one in a story. There are two heroines in the story Two Kinds: the daughter and the mother. The daughter serves as the narrator for the first person in the story. The plot of the traditional short story contains three parts: beginning, middle and end. It often moves through five stages exposition(铺垫),rising action(开端,上升情节 ), crisis or climax( 高潮), falling action(高潮之后的部分 ), resolution( 结局). In Two Kinds, Paras. 1-3 can be regarded as the beginning, Part One; Paras. 4-76 can be taken as the middle, Part Two; Paras.77-93 can referred to as the end, Part Three. Environment means either natural one or social one.
授课教案:现代大学英语精读第5册 Unit Two Two Kinds
课程名称：高级英语 教学对象：英语专业本科三年级 教学目的 1. 了解作者及其背景知识； 2．熟悉本文使用的写作手法； 3．掌握修辞疑问句、倒装句等修辞 手法等 4．熟练掌握三类构词法； 5．通过深刻理解文章内涵，培养学 生社会洞察力和相关的讨论能力，同时掌握文中 的核心语言点。
教学内容 1. 热身 2．作者 教育与背景 3．作品赏析： Ø 结构分析 Ø 如何赏析 文学作品 Ø 扩展式讨论 4．写作技巧： Ø 省略疑问句和修辞疑问句 Ø 倒装句 5．语言理解 Ø 核心词汇学习 6．课堂讨论 7．练与讲 教学重点 1. 文学作品的赏析； 2．文学中的修辞手法―― antithesis（反对）、 Anaphora(首语重复法) 教学方法 讲授、问答、讨论、模仿、练习 教学手段多媒体使用
IllustrationClimax Elements of 3
Rising actionCharacter Falling action
Plot
Exposition
Environment
Resolution
Guide to Reading
mah-jongg 麻将 dim sum:[ 'dim'sʌm ] n. <汉>点心 finalist: [ 'fainəlist ] n. 参加决赛者 a contestant who reaches the final stages of a competition The judges awarded both finalists equal points. 裁判员判定决赛双方分数 相同 bittersweet: a. 又苦又甜的,苦乐参半的 1. tinged with sadness 2. having a taste that is a mixture of bitterness and sweetness A bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past. 怀旧 对过去事物、人或环境苦乐参半的渴望 cliche: [ 'kli:ʃei; kli:'ʃei ] n. 陈腔滥调a trite or obvious remark Cliche is a feature of bad journalism. 使用套语是拙劣的新闻体的特点. compelling: [ kəm'peliŋ ] a. 强制的,强迫性的,令人注目的,引起兴趣的 1. driving or forcing 2. tending to persuade by forcefulness of argument pathos: [ 'peiθɔs ] n. 感伤,悲怅,悲情 a feeling of sympathy and sorrow for the misfortunes of others The play is notable for the pathos of its final scene. 该剧以最后一场的哀 婉动人而著称。rend: [ rend ] v. 分裂,劈开,强夺tear or be torn violently 1.The stillness was rent by thunderous applause. 雷鸣般的掌声打破了寂静。 2.Children were rent from their mothers' arms by the brutal soldiers. 凶残 的士兵把孩子们从母亲的怀抱中夺走了。
an unusually gifted or intelligent (young) person; someone whose talents excite wonder and admiration Einstain did not seem to be a prodigy when he was a child.
Two Kinds
The background of the story: The story is taken from The Joy Luck Club which contains a series of short stories. In surface, it depicts the conflicts between the two generations, but deep down, it reflects the confrontations between two cultures. The mother, who was born and educated in China,represented Chinese culture and traditional value outlook, but the daughter, who was born and educated in America, represented alien culture and value outlook. The title, which seems very simple, is profound in meaning. It can be understood as the conflict between two kinds of person, between two kinds of culture, between two kinds of value outlook…The writer skillfully uses the rhetorical device: pun: n. 双关语 Pun is a rhetorical device which can express double meaning, for instance, “The river is rich because it has two banks.” Hemingway also uses the same rhetorical device in his novel Farewell to Arms. The word arms has two meanings here. One is weapon, and the other is female arms or love. The author also uses the rhetorical device in her mother‟s name Suyuan, a sound translation from 天the Chinese words 宿愿, which means “old dream” in English. The name alludes that her mother hoped her old dream would come true in her daughter.
Text Part I (Pat, Paras. 1-3 , provides the reader with some background information. The mother had to be here in America after losing everything in China in 1949. It tells about the mother and her hopes for her daughter, which paves the way for the development of the conflict between the two generations. From these paragraphs, we can deduce the reasons why the mother placed high hopes on her daughter. Firstly, she held that anything can be got in the society. Whether she was aware or not, she was influenced by and believed in the “American Dream”. Secondly, she was competing with her best friend Lindo, who had a smart daughter. Thirdly, she had lost everything In China and had come to America with The determination to make things better. She was transferring her own hopes to her daughter. prodigy: [ 'prɔdidʒi ] n. 惊人的事物,不凡的人,神童