高级英语课文EverydayUse
高级英语-everyday-use课文赏析PPT课件
the majority of black women
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Dee
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• Dee is not appreciated by the author. At first, Dee wanted to get rid of her own culture. She hated her humble house and never wanted to take her friends to her family. She pursed the white culture and received good education of the white community. When the black movement began, she simply took her tradition that she once hated as a thing to show off. She carefully took pictures of her humble house, took the churn and dasher as something artistic, wore strange clothes and changed her name, which totally is a superficial imitation of the black tradition.
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• He moves to hug Maggie, but she falls back right up against the back chairs…..
大学高级英语第一册张汉熙版第四课原文加翻译EverydayUseforyourgrandmama
Everyday Use for your grandmamaAlice WalkerI will wait for her in the yard that Maggie and I made so clean and wavy yester day afternoon. A yard like this is more comfortable than most people know. It is not just a yard. It is like an extended living room. When the hard clay is swept clean as a floor and the fine sand around the edges lined with tiny, irregular grooves, anyone can come and sit and look up into the elm tree and wait for the breezes that never come inside the house.Maggie will be nervous until after her sister goes: she will stand hopelessly in corners, homely and ashamed of the burn scars down her arms and legs, eying her sister with a mixture of envy and awe. She thinks her sister has held life always in the palm of one hand, that "no" is a word the world never learned to say to her.You've no doubt seen those TV shows where the child who has "made it" is confronted, as a surprise, by her own mother and father, tottering in weakly from backstage. (A Pleasant surprise, of course: What would they do if parent and child came on the show only to curse out and insult each other?) On TV mother and child embrace and smile into each other's face. Sometimes the mother and father weep, the child wraps them in her arms and leans across the table to tell how she would not have made it without their help. I have seen these programs.Sometimes I dream a dream in which Dee and I are suddenly brought together on a TV program of this sort. Out of a cark and soft-seated limousine I am ushered into a bright room filled with many people. There I meet a smiling, gray, sporty man like Johnny Carson who shakes my hand and tells me what a fine girl I have. Then we are on the stage and Dee is embracing me with tear s in her eyes. She pins on my dress a large orchid, even though she has told me once that she thinks or chides are tacky flowers.In real life I am a large, big-boned woman with rough, man-working hands. In the winter I wear flannel nightgowns to bed and overalls during the day. I can killand clean a hog as mercilessly as a man. My fat keeps me hot in zero weather. I can work outside all day, breaking ice to get water for washing; I can eat pork liver cooked over the open tire minutes after it comes steaming from the hog. One winter I knocked a bull calf straight in the brain between the eyes with a sledge hammer and had the meat hung up to chill be-fore nightfall. But of course all this does not show on television. I am the way my daughter would want me to be: a hundred pounds lighter, my skin like an uncooked barley pan-cake. My hair glistens in the hot bright lights. Johnny Car – son has much to do to keep up with my quick and witty tongue.But that is a mistake. I know even before I wake up. Who ever knew a Johnson with a quick tongue? Who can even imagine me looking a strange white man in the eye? It seems to me I have talked to them always with one toot raised in flight, with my head turned in whichever way is farthest from them. Dee, though. She would always look anyone in the eye. Hesitation was no part of her nature."How do I look, Mama?" Maggie says, showing just enough of her thin body enveloped in pink skirt and red blouse for me to know she's there, almost hidden by the door."Come out into the yard," I say.Have you ever seen a lame animal, perhaps a dog run over by some careless person rich enough to own a car, sidle up to someone who is ignorant enough to be kind of him? That is the way my Maggie walks. She has been like this, chin on chest, eyes on ground, feet in shuffle, ever since the fire that burned the other house to the ground.Dee is lighter than Maggie, with nicer hair and a fuller figure. She's a woman now, though sometimes I forget. How long ago was it that the other house burned? Ten, twelve years? Sometimes I can still hear the flames and feel Maggie's arms sticking to me, her hair smoking and her dress falling off her in little black papery flakes. Her eyes seemed stretched open, blazed open by the flames reflect-ed in them. And Dee. I see her standing off under the sweet gum tree she used to dig gum out of; a look at concentration on her face as she watched the last dingy gray board of the house tall in toward the red-hot brick chimney. Why don't you do a dance around the ashes? I'd wanted to ask her. She had hated the house that much.I used to think she hated Maggie, too. But that was before we raised the money, the church and me, to send her to Augusta to school. She used to read to us without pity, forcing words, lies, other folks' habits, whole lives upon us two, sitting trapped and ignorant underneath her voice. She washed us in a river of make-believe, burned us with a lot of knowledge we didn't necessarily need to know. Pressed us to her with the serious way she read, to shove us away at just the moment, like dimwits, we seemed about to understand.Dee wanted nice things. A yellow organdy dress to wear to her graduation from high school; black pumps to match a green suit she'd made from an old suit somebody gave me. She was determined to stare down any disaster in her efforts. Her eyelids would not flicker for minutes at a time. Often I fought off the temptation to shake her. At sixteen she had a style of her own' and knew what style was.I never had an education myself. After second grade the school was closed down. Don't ask me why. in 1927 colored asked fewer questions than they do now. Sometimes Maggie reads to me. She stumbles along good-naturedly but can't see well. She knows she is not bright. Like good looks and money, quickness passed her by. She will marry John Thomas (who has mossy teeth in an earnest face) and then I'll be free to sit here and I guess just sing church songs to myself. Although I never was a good singer. Never could carry a tune. I was always better at a man's job. 1 used to love to milk till I was hooked in the side in '49. Cows are soothing and slow and don't bother you, unless you try to milk them the wrong way.I have deliberately turned my back on the house. It is three rooms, just like the one that burned, except the roof is tin: they don't make shingle roofs any more. There are no real windows, just some holes cut in the sides, like the portholes in a ship, but not round and not square, with rawhide holding the shutter s up on the outside. This house is in a pasture, too, like the other one. No doubt when Dee sees it she will want to tear it down. She wrote me once that no matter where we "choose" to live, she will manage to come see us. But she will never bring her friends. Maggie and I thought about this and Maggie asked me, Mama, when did Dee ever have anyfriends?"She had a few. Furtive boys in pink shirts hanging about on washday after school. Nervous girls who never laughed. Impressed with her they worshiped the well-turned phrase, the cute shape, the scalding humor that erupted like bubbles in lye. She read to them.When she was courting Jimmy T she didn't have much time to pay to us, but turned all her faultfinding power on him. He flew to marry a cheap city girl from a family of ignorant flashy people. She hardly had time to recompose herself.When she comes I will meet -- but there they are!Maggie attempts to make a dash for the house, in her shuffling way, but I stay her with my hand. "Come back here," I say. And she stops and tries to dig a well in the sand with her toe.It is hard to see them clearly through the strong sun. But even the first glimpse of leg out of the car tells me it is Dee. Her feet were always neat-looking, as it God himself had shaped them with a certain style. From the other side of the car comes a short, stocky man. Hair is all over his head a foot long and hanging from his chin like a kinky mule tail. I hear Maggie suck in her breath. "Uhnnnh," is what it sounds like. Like when you see the wriggling end of a snake just in front of your toot on the road. "Uhnnnh."Dee next. A dress down to the ground, in this hot weather. A dress so loud it hurts my eyes. There are yel-lows and oranges enough to throw back the light of the sun. I feel my whole face warming from the heat waves it throws out. Earrings gold, too, and hanging down to her shoulders. Bracelets dangling and making noises when she moves her arm up to shake the folds of the dress out of her armpits. The dress is loose and flows, and as she walks closer, I like it. I hear Maggie go "Uhnnnh" again. It is her sister's hair. It stands straight up like the wool on a sheep. It is black as night and around the edges are two long pigtails that rope about like small lizards disappearing behind her ears."Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!" she says, coming on in that gliding way the dress makes hermove. The short stocky fellow with the hair to his navel is all grinning and he follows up with "Asalamalakim, my mother and sister!" He moves to hug Maggie but she falls back, right up against the back of my chair. I feel her trembling there and when I look up I see the perspiration falling off her chin."Don't get up," says Dee. Since I am stout it takes something of a push. You can see me trying to move a second or two before I make it. She turns, showing white heels through her sandals, and goes back to the car. Out she peeks next with a Polaroid. She stoops down quickly and lines up picture after picture of me sitting there in front of the house with Maggie cowering behind me. She never takes a shot without making sure the house is included. When a cow comes nibbling around the edge of the yard she snaps it and me and Maggie and the house. Then she puts the Polaroid in the back seat of the car, and comes up and kisses me on the forehead.Meanwhile Asalamalakim is going through motions with Maggie's hand. Maggie's hand is as limp as a fish, and probably as cold, despite the sweat, and she keeps trying to pull it back. It looks like Asalamalakim wants to shake hands but wants to do it fancy. Or maybe he don't know how people shake hands. Anyhow, he soon gives up on Maggie."Well," I say. "Dee.""No, Mama," she says. "Not 'Dee', Wangero Leewanika Kemanjo!""What happened to 'Dee'?" I wanted to know."She's dead," Wangero said. "I couldn't bear it any longer, being named after the people who oppress me.""You know as well as me you was named after your aunt Dicle," I said. Dicie is my sister. She named Dee. We called her "Big Dee" after Dee was born."But who was she named after?" asked Wangero."I guess after Grandma Dee," I said."And who was she named after?" asked Wangero."Her mother," I said, and saw Wangero was getting tired. "That's about as far back as I can trace it," I said.Though, in fact, I probably could have carried it back beyond the Civil Warthrough the branches."Well," said Asalamalakim, "there you are.""Uhnnnh," I heard Maggie say."There I was not," I said, before 'Dicie' cropped up in our family, so why should I try to trace it that far back?"He just stood there grinning, looking down on me like somebody inspecting a Model A car. Every once in a while he and Wangero sent eye signals over my head."How do you pronounce this name?" I asked."You don't have to call me by it if you don't want to," said Wangero."Why shouldn't I?" I asked. "If that's what you want us to call you, we'll call you. ""I know it might sound awkward at first," said Wangero."I'll get used to it," I said. "Ream it out again."Well, soon we got the name out of the way. Asalamalakim had a name twice as long and three times as hard. After I tripped over it two or three times he told me to just call him Hakim-a-barber. I wanted to ask him was he a barber, but I didn't really think he was, so I don't ask."You must belong to those beet-cattle peoples down the road," I said. They said "Asalamalakirn" when they met you too, but they didn't Shake hands. Always too busy feeding the cattle, fixing the fences, putting up salt-lick shelters, throwing down hay. When the white folks poisoned some of the herd the men stayed up all night with rifles in their hands. I walked a mile and a half just to see the sight.Hakim-a-barber said, "I accept some of their doctrines, but farming and raising cattle is not my style." (They didn't tell me, and I didn't ask, whether Wangero (Dee) had really gone and married him.)We sat down to eat and right away he said he didn't eat collards and pork was unclean. Wangero, though, went on through the chitlins and corn bread, the greens and every-thing else. She talked a blue streak over the sweet potatoes. Everything delighted her. Even the fact that we still used the benches her daddy made for the table when we couldn't afford to buy chairs."Oh, Mama!" she cried. Then turned to Hakim-a-barber. "I never knew how lovely these benches are. You can feel the rump prints," she said, running her hands underneath her and along the bench. Then she gave a sigh and her hand closed over Grandma Dee's butter dish. "That's it!" she said. "I knew there was something I wanted to ask you if I could have." She jumped up from the table and went over in the corner where the churn stood, the milk in it clabber by now. She looked at the churn and looked at it."This churn top is what I need," she said. "Didn't Uncle Buddy whittle it out of a tree you all used to have?""Yes," I said."Uh huh, " she said happily. "And I want the dasher,too.""Uncle Buddy whittle that, too?" asked the barber.Dee (Wangero) looked up at me."Aunt Dee's first husband whittled the dash," said Maggie so low you almost couldn't hear her. "His name was Henry, but they called him Stash.""Maggie's brain is like an elephants," Wanglero said, laughing. "I can use the churn top as a center piece for the alcove table,”she said, sliding a plate over the churn, "and I'll think of something artistic to do with the dasher."When she finished wrapping the dasher the handle stuck out. I took it for a moment in my hands. You didn't even have to look close to see where hands pushing the dasher up and down to make butter had left a kind of sink in the wood. In fact, there were a lot of small sinks; you could see where thumbs and fingers had sunk into the wood. It was beautiful light yellow wood, from a tree that grew in the yard where Big Dee and Stash had lived.After dinner Dee (Wangero) went to the trunk at the foot of my bed and started rifling through it. Maggie hung back in the kitchen over the dishpan. Out came Wangero with two quilts. They had been pieced by Grandma Dee and then Big Dee and me had hung them on the quilt frames on the front porch and quilted them. One was in the Lone Star pattern. The other was Walk Around the Mountain. In both of them were scraps of dresses Grandma Dee had worn fifty and more years ago. Bit sand pieces of GrandpaJarrell's Paisley shirts. And one teeny faded blue piece, about the size of a penny matchbox, that was from Great Grandpa Ezra's uniform that he wore in the Civil War."Mama," Wangero said sweet as a bird. "Can I have these old quilts?"I heard something fall in the kitchen, and a minute later the kitchen door slammed."Why don't you take one or two of the others?” 1 asked. "These old things was just done by me and Big Dee from some tops your grandma pieced before she died.""No," said Wangero. "I don't want those. They are stitched around the borders by machine.""That'll make them last better," I said."That's not the point," said Wanglero. "These are all pieces of dresses Grandma used to wear. She did all this stitching by hand. Imagine!" She held the quilts securely in her arms, stroking them."Some of the pieces, like those lavender ones, come from old clothes her mother handed down to her,” I said, moving up to touch the quilts. Dee (Wangero) moved back just enough so that I couldn't reach the quilts. They already belonged to her. "Imagine!" she breathed again, clutching them closely to her bosom."The truth is," I said, "I promised to give them quilts to Maggie, for when she marries John Thomas."She gasped like a bee had stung her."Maggie can't appreciate these quilts!" she said. "She'd probably be backward enough to put them to everyday use.""I reckon she would," I said. "God knows I been savage ’em for long enough with nobody using 'em. I hope she will! ” I didn't want to bring up how I had offered Dee (Wangero) a quilt when she went away to college. Then she had told me they were old-fashioned, out of style."But they're priceless!" she was saying now, furiously, for she has a temper. "Maggie would put them on the bed and in five years they'd be in rags. Less than that!" "She can always make some more,” I said. "Maggie knows how to quilt. "Dee (Wangero) looked at me with hatred. "You just will not understand. The point is these quilts, these quilts!""Well," I said,, stumped. "What would you do with them?""Hang them," she said. As it that was the only thing you could do with quilts.Maggie by now was standing in the door. I could almost hear the sound her feet made as they scraped over each other."She can have them, Mama,” she said like somebody used to neve r winning anything, or having anything reserved for her. "I can 'member Grandma Dee without the quilts."I looked at her hard. She had filled her bottom lip with checkerberry snuff and it gave her face a kind of dopey, hangdog look. It was Grandma Dee and Big Dee who taught her how to quilt herself. She stood there with her scarred hands hidden in the folds of her skirt. She looked at her sister with something like fear but she wasn't mad at her. This was Maggie's portion. This was the way she knew God to work.When I looked at her like that something hit me in the top of my head and ran down to the soles of my feet. Just like when I'm in church and the spirit of God touches me and I get happy and shout. I did something I never had done before: hugged Maggie to me, then dragged her on into the room, snatched the quilts out of Miss Wangero's hands and dumped them into Maggie's lap. Maggie just sat there on my bed with her mouth open."Take one or two of the others," I said to Dee.But she turned without a word and went out to Hakim-a-barber."You just don't understand," she said, as Maggie and I came out to the car."What don't I under stand?" I wanted to know."Your heritage," she said. And then she turned to Maggie, kissed her, and said, "You ought to try to make some-thing of yourself, too, Maggie. It's really a new day for us. But from the way you and Mama still live you'd never know it."She put on some sunglasses that hid everything above the tip of her nose and her chin.Maggie smiled; maybe at the sunglasses. But a real mile, not scared. After we watched the car dust settle I asked Maggie to bring me a dip of snuff. And then the two of us sat there just enjoying, until it was time to go in the house and go to bed.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------NOTES1) Alice Walker: born 1944 in Eatonton, Georgia, America and graduated from Sarah Lawrence College. Her books include The Third Life of Grange Copeland ( 1970 ), Meridian ( 1976 ), The Color Purple(1982), etc.2)"made it": to become a success, to succeed, either in specific endeavor or in general3) Johnny Carson: a man who runs a late night talk show4)hooked: injured by the horn of the cow being milked5) Jimmy T: 'T' is the initial of the surname of the boy Dee was courting.6)"Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!": phonetic rendering of an African dialect salutation7) "Asalamalakim": phonetic rendering of a Muslim greeting8) Polaroid: a camera that produces instant pictures9) the Civil War: the war between the North and the South in the U. S.(1861-1865)10) branches: branches or divisions of a family descending from a common ancestor11) Ream it out again: "Ream" is perhaps an African dialect word meaning: "unfold, display". Hence the phrase may mean "repeat" or "say it once again"12) pork was unclean: Muslims are forbidden by their religion to eat pork because it is considered to be unclean.13) Chitlins: also chitlings or chitterlings, the small intestines of pigs, used for food, a common dish in Afro-American households14) rump prints: depressions in the benches made by constant sitting15) sink: depressions in the wood of the handle left by the thumbs and fingers第四课外婆的日用家当艾丽斯•沃克尔“我会慢慢习惯的，”我说，“你给我再念一遍吧。
(完整word版)Everyday_Use_for_your_grandmama_全文翻译
高级英语第一册lesson4 Everyday Use for your grandmama全文翻译第四课外婆锝日用家当艾丽斯•沃克尔我就在这院子里等候她的到来。
我和麦姬昨天下午已将院子打扫得干干净净，地面上还留着清晰的扫帚扫出的波浪形痕迹，这样的院子比一般人想象的要舒服，它不仅仅是一个院子，简直就像一间扩大了的客厅。
当院子的泥土地面被打扫得像屋里的地板一样干净，四周边缘的细沙面上布满不规则的细纹时，任何人都可以进来坐一下，一边抬头仰望院中的榆树，一边等着享受从来吹不进屋内的微风。
麦姬在她姐姐离去之前将会一直心神不定：她将会神情沮丧地站在角落里，一面为自己的丑陋面孔和胳膊大腿上晒出的累累疤痕而自惭形秽，一面怀着既羡慕又敬畏的心情怯生生地看着她姐姐。
她觉得她姐姐真正是生活的主人，想要什么便能得到什么，世界还没有学会对她说半个“不”字。
你一定从电视片上看到过“闯出了江山”的儿女突然出乎意料地出现在那跌跌撞撞从后台走出来的父母面前的场面。
（当然，那场面必定是令人喜悦的：假如电视上的父母和儿女之间相互攻击辱骂，他们该怎么样呢？）在电视上，母亲和儿女见面总是相互拥抱和微笑。
有时父母会痛哭流涕，而那发迹了的孩子就会紧紧地拥抱他们，并隔着桌子伸过头来告诉他们说若没有他们的帮助，她自己就不会有今日的成就。
我自己就看过这样的电视节目。
有时候我在梦里梦见迪伊和我突然成了这种电视节目的剧中人。
我从一辆黑色软座垫大轿车上一下来，立刻被人引进一间宽敞明亮的屋子里。
屋里有许多人，其中一个身材高大威武，满面微笑，有点像著名电视节目主持人约翰尼.卡森的美男子迎上来和我握手，并对我说我养了个好女儿。
然后，我们来到台前，迪伊热泪盈眶地拥抱着我，还把一朵大大的兰花别在我的衣服上，尽管她曾对我说过兰花是很低级的花。
在现实生活中，我是一个大块头、大骨架的妇女，有着干男人活儿的粗糙双手。
冬天睡觉时我穿着绒布睡衣，白天身穿套头工作衫。
我能像男人一样狠狠地宰猪并收拾干净。
大学高级英语第一册张汉熙版第四课原文加翻译Everyday Use for your grandmama
Everyday Use for your grandmamaAlice WalkerI will wait for her in the yard that Maggie and I made so clean and wavy yester day afternoon. A yard like this is more comfortable than most people know. It is not just a yard. It is like an extended living room. When the hard clay is swept clean as a floor and the fine sand around the edges lined with tiny, irregular grooves, anyone can come and sit and look up into the elm tree and wait for the breezes that never come inside the house.Maggie will be nervous until after her sister goes: she will stand hopelessly in corners, homely and ashamed of the burn scars down her arms and legs, eying her sister with a mixture of envy and awe. She thinks her sister has held life always in the palm of one hand, that "no" is a word the world never learned to say to her.You've no doubt seen those TV shows where the child who has "made it" is confronted, as a surprise, by her own mother and father, tottering in weakly from backstage. (A Pleasant surprise, of course: What would they do if parent and child came on the show only to curse out and insult each other?) On TV mother and child embrace and smile into each other's face. Sometimes the mother and father weep, the child wraps them in her arms and leans across the table to tell how she would not have made it without their help. I have seen these programs.Sometimes I dream a dream in which Dee and I are suddenly brought together on a TV program of this sort. Out of a cark and soft-seated limousine I am ushered into a bright room filled with many people. There I meet a smiling, gray, sporty man like Johnny Carson who shakes my hand and tells me what a fine girl I have. Then we are on the stage and Dee is embracing me with tear s in her eyes. She pins on my dress a large orchid, even though she has told me once that she thinks or chides are tacky flowers.In real life I am a large, big-boned woman with rough, man-working hands. In the winter I wear flannel nightgowns to bed and overalls during the day. I can kill and clean a hog as mercilessly as a man. My fat keeps me hot in zero weather. I can work outside all day, breaking ice to get water for washing; I can eat pork liver cooked over the open tire minutes after it comes steaming from the hog. One winter I knocked a bull calf straight in the brain between the eyeswith a sledge hammer and had the meat hung up to chill be-fore nightfall. But of course all this does not show on television. I am the way my daughter would want me to be: a hundred pounds lighter, my skin like an uncooked barley pan-cake. My hair glistens in the hot bright lights. Johnny Car – son has much to do to keep up with my quick and witty tongue.But that is a mistake. I know even before I wake up. Who ever knew a Johnson with a quick tongue? Who can even imagine me looking a strange white man in the eye? It seems to me I have talked to them always with one toot raised in flight, with my head turned in whichever way is farthest from them. Dee, though. She would always look anyone in the eye. Hesitation was no part of her nature."How do I look, Mama?" Maggie says, showing just enough of her thin body enveloped in pink skirt and red blouse for me to know she's there, almost hidden by the door."Come out into the yard," I say.Have you ever seen a lame animal, perhaps a dog run over by some careless person rich enough to own a car, sidle up to someone who is ignorant enough to be kind of him? That is the way my Maggie walks. She has been like this, chin on chest, eyes on ground, feet in shuffle, ever since the fire that burned the other house to the ground.Dee is lighter than Maggie, with nicer hair and a fuller figure. She's a woman now, though sometimes I forget. How long ago was it that the other house burned? Ten, twelve years? Sometimes I can still hear the flames and feel Maggie's arms sticking to me, her hair smoking and her dress falling off her in little black papery flakes. Her eyes seemed stretched open, blazed open by the flames reflect-ed in them. And Dee. I see her standing off under the sweet gum tree she used to dig gum out of; a look at concentration on her face as she watched the last dingy gray board of the house tall in toward the red-hot brick chimney. Why don't you do a dance around the ashes? I'd wanted to ask her. She had hated the house that much.I used to think she hated Maggie, too. But that was before we raised the money, the church and me, to send her to Augusta to school. She used to read to us without pity, forcing words, lies, other folks' habits, whole lives upon us two, sitting trapped and ignorant underneath her voice. She washed us in a river of make-believe, burned us with a lot of knowledge we didn't necessarily need to know. Pressed us to her with the serious way she read, to shove us away at just the moment, like dimwits, we seemed about to understand.Dee wanted nice things. A yellow organdy dress to wear to her graduation from high school; black pumps to match a green suit she'd made from an old suit somebody gave me. She was determined to stare down any disaster in her efforts. Her eyelids would not flicker for minutes at a time. Often I fought off the temptation to shake her. At sixteen she had a style of her own' and knew what style was.I never had an education myself. After second grade the school was closed down. Don't ask me why. in 1927 colored asked fewer questions than they do now. Sometimes Maggie reads to me. She stumbles along good-naturedly but can't see well. She knows she is not bright. Like good looks and money, quickness passed her by. She will marry John Thomas (who has mossy teeth in an earnest face) and then I'll be free to sit here and I guess just sing church songs to myself. Although I never was a good singer. Never could carry a tune. I was always better at a man's job.1 used to love to milk till I was hooked in the side in '49. Cows are soothing and slow and don't bother you, unless you try to milk them the wrong way.I have deliberately turned my back on the house. It is three rooms, just like the one that burned, except the roof is tin: they don't make shingle roofs any more. There are no real windows, just some holes cut in the sides, like the portholes in a ship, but not round and not square, with rawhide holding the shutter s up on the outside. This house is in a pasture, too, like the other one. No doubt when Dee sees it she will want to tear it down. She wrote me once that no matter where we "choose" to live, she will manage to come see us. But she will never bring her friends. Maggie and I thought about this and Maggie asked me, Mama, when did Dee ever have any friends?"She had a few. Furtive boys in pink shirts hanging about on washday after school. Nervous girls who never laughed. Impressed with her they worshiped the well-turned phrase, the cute shape, the scalding humor that erupted like bubbles in lye. She read to them.When she was courting Jimmy T she didn't have much time to pay to us, but turned all her faultfinding power on him. He flew to marry a cheap city girl from a family of ignorant flashy people. She hardly had time to recompose herself.When she comes I will meet -- but there they are!Maggie attempts to make a dash for the house, in her shuffling way, but I stay her with my hand."Come back here," I say. And she stops and tries to dig a well in the sand with her toe.It is hard to see them clearly through the strong sun. But even the first glimpse of leg out of the car tells me it is Dee. Her feet were always neat-looking, as it God himself had shaped them with a certain style. From the other side of the car comes a short, stocky man. Hair is all over his head a foot long and hanging from his chin like a kinky mule tail. I hear Maggie suck in her breath. "Uhnnnh," is what it sounds like. Like when you see the wriggling end of a snake just in front of your toot on the road. "Uhnnnh."Dee next. A dress down to the ground, in this hot weather. A dress so loud it hurts my eyes. There are yel-lows and oranges enough to throw back the light of the sun. I feel my whole face warming from the heat waves it throws out. Earrings gold, too, and hanging down to her shoulders. Bracelets dangling and making noises when she moves her arm up to shake the folds of the dress out of her armpits. The dress is loose and flows, and as she walks closer, I like it. I hear Maggie go "Uhnnnh" again. It is her sister's hair. It stands straight up like the wool on a sheep. It is black as night and around the edges are two long pigtails that rope about like small lizards disappearing behind her ears."Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!" she says, coming on in that gliding way the dress makes her move. The short stocky fellow with the hair to his navel is all grinning and he follows up with "Asalamalakim, my mother and sister!" He moves to hug Maggie but she falls back, right up against the back of my chair. I feel her trembling there and when I look up I see the perspiration falling off her chin."Don't get up," says Dee. Since I am stout it takes something of a push. You can see me trying to move a second or two before I make it. She turns, showing white heels through her sandals, and goes back to the car. Out she peeks next with a Polaroid. She stoops down quickly and lines up picture after picture of me sitting there in front of the house with Maggie cowering behind me. She never takes a shot without making sure the house is included. When a cow comes nibbling around the edge of the yard she snaps it and me and Maggie and the house. Then she puts the Polaroid in the back seat of the car, and comes up and kisses me on the forehead.Meanwhile Asalamalakim is going through motions with Maggie's hand. Maggie's hand is as limp as a fish, and probably as cold, despite the sweat, and she keeps trying to pull it back. It looks like Asalamalakim wants to shake hands but wants to do it fancy. Or maybe he don't know how people shake hands. Anyhow, he soon gives up on Maggie."Well," I say. "Dee.""No, Mama," she says. "Not 'Dee', Wangero Leewanika Kemanjo!""What happened to 'Dee'?" I wanted to know."She's dead," Wangero said. "I couldn't bear it any longer, being named after the people who oppress me.""You know as well as me you was named after your aunt Dicle," I said. Dicie is my sister. She named Dee. We called her "Big Dee" after Dee was born."But who was she named after?" asked Wangero."I guess after Grandma Dee," I said."And who was she named after?" asked Wangero."Her mother," I said, and saw Wangero was getting tired. "That's about as far back as I can trace it," I said.Though, in fact, I probably could have carried it back beyond the Civil War through the branches."Well," said Asalamalakim, "there you are.""Uhnnnh," I heard Maggie say."There I was not," I said, before 'Dicie' cropped up in our family, so why should I try to trace it that far back?"He just stood there grinning, looking down on me like somebody inspecting a Model A car. Every once in a while he and Wangero sent eye signals over my head."How do you pronounce this name?" I asked."You don't have to call me by it if you don't want to," said Wangero."Why shouldn't I?" I asked. "If that's what you want us to call you, we'll call you. ""I know it might sound awkward at first," said Wangero."I'll get used to it," I said. "Ream it out again."Well, soon we got the name out of the way. Asalamalakim had a name twice as long and three times as hard. After I tripped over it two or three times he told me to just call himHakim-a-barber. I wanted to ask him was he a barber, but I didn't really think he was, so I don't ask."You must belong to those beet-cattle peoples down the road," I said. They said"Asalamalakirn" when they met you too, but they didn't Shake hands. Always too busy feeding the cattle, fixing the fences, putting up salt-lick shelters, throwing down hay. When the white folks poisoned some of the herd the men stayed up all night with rifles in their hands. I walked a mile and a half just to see the sight.Hakim-a-barber said, "I accept some of their doctrines, but farming and raising cattle is not my style." (They didn't tell me, and I didn't ask, whether Wangero (Dee) had really gone and married him.)We sat down to eat and right away he said he didn't eat collards and pork was unclean. Wangero, though, went on through the chitlins and corn bread, the greens and every-thing else. She talked a blue streak over the sweet potatoes. Everything delighted her. Even the fact that we still used the benches her daddy made for the table when we couldn't afford to buy chairs."Oh, Mama!" she cried. Then turned to Hakim-a-barber. "I never knew how lovely these benches are. You can feel the rump prints," she said, running her hands underneath her and along the bench. Then she gave a sigh and her hand closed over Grandma Dee's butter dish. "That's it!" she said. "I knew there was something I wanted to ask you if I could have." She jumped up from the table and went over in the corner where the churn stood, the milk in it clabber by now. She looked at the churn and looked at it."This churn top is what I need," she said. "Didn't Uncle Buddy whittle it out of a tree you all used to have?""Yes," I said."Uh huh, " she said happily. "And I want the dasher,too.""Uncle Buddy whittle that, too?" asked the barber.Dee (Wangero) looked up at me."Aunt Dee's first husband whittled the dash," said Maggie so low you almost couldn't hear her. "His name was Henry, but they called him Stash.""Maggie's brain is like an elephants," Wanglero said, laughing. "I can use the churn top as a center piece for the alcove table,”she said, sliding a plate over the churn, "and I'll think of something artistic to do with the dasher."When she finished wrapping the dasher the handle stuck out. I took it for a moment in my hands. You didn't even have to look close to see where hands pushing the dasher up and down tomake butter had left a kind of sink in the wood. In fact, there were a lot of small sinks; you could see where thumbs and fingers had sunk into the wood. It was beautiful light yellow wood, from a tree that grew in the yard where Big Dee and Stash had lived.After dinner Dee (Wangero) went to the trunk at the foot of my bed and started rifling through it. Maggie hung back in the kitchen over the dishpan. Out came Wangero with two quilts. They had been pieced by Grandma Dee and then Big Dee and me had hung them on the quilt frames on the front porch and quilted them. One was in the Lone Star pattern. The other was Walk Around the Mountain. In both of them were scraps of dresses Grandma Dee had worn fifty and more years ago. Bit sand pieces of Grandpa Jarrell's Paisley shirts. And one teeny faded blue piece, about the size of a penny matchbox, that was from Great Grandpa Ezra's uniform that he wore in the Civil War."Mama," Wangero said sweet as a bird. "Can I have these old quilts?"I heard something fall in the kitchen, and a minute later the kitchen door slammed."Why don't you take one or two of the others?” 1 asked. "Th ese old things was just done by me and Big Dee from some tops your grandma pieced before she died.""No," said Wangero. "I don't want those. They are stitched around the borders by machine.""That'll make them last better," I said."That's not the point," said Wanglero. "These are all pieces of dresses Grandma used to wear. She did all this stitching by hand. Imagine!" She held the quilts securely in her arms, stroking them."Some of the pieces, like those lavender ones, come from old clothes her mother handed down to her,” I said, moving up to touch the quilts. Dee (Wangero) moved back just enough so that I couldn't reach the quilts. They already belonged to her. "Imagine!" she breathed again, clutching them closely to her bosom."The truth is," I said, "I promised to give them quilts to Maggie, for when she marries John Thomas."She gasped like a bee had stung her."Maggie can't appreciate these quilts!" she said. "She'd probably be backward enough to put them to everyday use.""I reckon she would," I said. "God knows I been savage ’em for long enough with nobodyusing 'em. I hope she will! ” I didn't want to bring up how I had offered Dee (Wangero) a quilt when she went away to college. Then she had told me they were old-fashioned, out of style."But they're priceless!" she was saying now, furiously, for she has a temper. "Maggie would put them on the bed and in five years they'd be in rags. Less than that!" "She can always make some more,” I said. "Maggie knows how to quilt. "Dee (Wangero) looked at me with hatred. "You just will not understand. The point is these quilts, these quilts!""Well," I said,, stumped. "What would you do with them?""Hang them," she said. As it that was the only thing you could do with quilts.Maggie by now was standing in the door. I could almost hear the sound her feet made as they scraped over each other."She can have them, Mama,” she said like somebody used to never winning anything, or having anything reserved for her. "I can 'member Grandma Dee without the quilts."I looked at her hard. She had filled her bottom lip with checkerberry snuff and it gave her face a kind of dopey, hangdog look. It was Grandma Dee and Big Dee who taught her how to quilt herself. She stood there with her scarred hands hidden in the folds of her skirt. She looked at her sister with something like fear but she wasn't mad at her. This was Maggie's portion. This was the way she knew God to work.When I looked at her like that something hit me in the top of my head and ran down to the soles of my feet. Just like when I'm in church and the spirit of God touches me and I get happy and shout. I did something I never had done before: hugged Maggie to me, then dragged her on into the room, snatched the quilts out of Miss Wangero's hands and dumped them into Maggie's lap. Maggie just sat there on my bed with her mouth open."Take one or two of the others," I said to Dee.But she turned without a word and went out to Hakim-a-barber."You just don't understand," she said, as Maggie and I came out to the car."What don't I under stand?" I wanted to know."Your heritage," she said. And then she turned to Maggie, kissed her, and said, "You ought to try to make some-thing of yourself, too, Maggie. It's really a new day for us. But from the way you and Mama still live you'd never know it."She put on some sunglasses that hid everything above the tip of her nose and her chin.Maggie smiled; maybe at the sunglasses. But a real mile, not scared. After we watched the car dust settle I asked Maggie to bring me a dip of snuff. And then the two of us sat there just enjoying, until it was time to go in the house and go to bed.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------NOTES1) Alice Walker: born 1944 in Eatonton, Georgia, America and graduated from Sarah Lawrence College. Her books include The Third Life of Grange Copeland ( 1970 ), Meridian ( 1976 ), The Color Purple(1982), etc.2)"made it": to become a success, to succeed, either in specific endeavor or in general3) Johnny Carson: a man who runs a late night talk show4)hooked: injured by the horn of the cow being milked5) Jimmy T: 'T' is the initial of the surname of the boy Dee was courting.6)"Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!": phonetic rendering of an African dialect salutation7) "Asalamalakim": phonetic rendering of a Muslim greeting8) Polaroid: a camera that produces instant pictures9) the Civil War: the war between the North and the South in the U. S.(1861-1865)10) branches: branches or divisions of a family descending from a common ancestor11) Ream it out again: "Ream" is perhaps an African dialect word meaning: "unfold, display". Hence the phrase may mean "repeat" or "say it once again"12) pork was unclean: Muslims are forbidden by their religion to eat pork because it is considered to be unclean.13) Chitlins: also chitlings or chitterlings, the small intestines of pigs, used for food, a common dish in Afro-American households14) rump prints: depressions in the benches made by constant sitting15) sink: depressions in the wood of the handle left by the thumbs and fingers第四课外婆的日用家当艾丽斯•沃克尔“我会慢慢习惯的，”我说，“你给我再念一遍吧。
高级英语课文Everyday Use
Detailed study of the text:
12. sledge hammer: large, heavy hammer for swinging with both hands, a large heavy hammer with a long handle, used for smashing concrete • 13. barley: 大麦
Detailed study of the text:
• 4. awe: Awe is the feeling of respect and amazement that you have when you are faced with sth. wonderful, frightening or completely unknown. • The child stared at him in silent awe.
Detailed study of the text
• With one foot raised in flight…with my head turned in whichever way is farthest from them: Indirect speech act meaning ready to escape,
Detailed study of the text
curse: If you curse, you use rude or offensive language,usu. because you are angry about sth. insult: If sb. insults you, they say sth. rude to you or offend you by doing or saying sth. which shows they have a low opinion of you.
高级英语第四课-Everyday-Use
(racism and sexism) in their lives.
The Relationship between Dee and I
The Contrast between Dee and Maggie
The Climax: Grandma’s Quilts
Theme: Everyday Use
The Heirloom – Quilts: Display VS
高级英语第四课-Everyday-Use
高级英语第四课-Everyday-Use
3
About Alice Walker
After her junior year at the college, she won a scholarship as an exchange student to Uganda, and Kenya. This most probably helped her to understand the African culture.
When she went to Sarah Lawrence College in New York on scholarships in the early 60’s, the civil rights movement was in full swing. She was actively involved in the movement. She graduated in 1965, having the BA.
高级阅读-Everydayuse(修辞)
谢谢观看
暗喻
总结词
暗喻是一种较为含蓄的比喻方式，通过暗示或间接的方式来表达意思，不使用比 喻词。
详细描述
在《everydayuse》中，作者使用了暗喻来表达主人公的内在品质和性格特点。例 如，“她是一颗璀璨的明珠，无论在哪里都能散发出耀眼的光芒”，这里将主人公 比喻为明珠，暗示她具有非凡的价值和光彩。
拟人
高级阅读-everydayuse(修辞)
目录
• 引言 • 修辞手法分析 • 文章内容解读 • 高级词汇与表达 • 阅读技巧提升 • 总结与反思
01
引言
主题介绍
主题概括
这篇文章的主题是对日常用品的重新 审视，通过使用日常用品来表达深层 的意义和价值。
主题重要性
在日常生活的快节奏中，我们往往忽 视了身边物品的价值和意义。通过对 日常用品的重新审视，我们可以更好 地理解生活的本质和价值。
复杂句型
长句
构造一些较长的句子，包含多个 从句、修饰语和嵌套结构，以增
加文本的复杂性和丰富性。
倒装句
故意打乱句子的正常语序，使用 倒装句来强调或表达某种特殊效 果，例如“不是水养人，而是人
养水”。
被动句
使用被动句型来表达动作或行为 的承受者，强调客观性和中立性
，例如“问题被解决了”。
修辞性表达
比喻
拓展知识领域
通过阅读不同类型的书籍，我希望能够不断拓展自己的知识领域，了解不同领域的前沿动态和思想观点，以保持对世 界的敏感度和好奇心。
实践与应用
将所学的知识和启示应用到实际生活中，通过写作、演讲、社交等方式表达自己的观点和情感，发挥阅 读对个人和社会的影响力。同时，我也希望能够在未来的学习和工作中运用批判性思维，解决实际问题 并创造价值。
高级英语课文Everyday Useppt课件
• The cupboard door slides open along the groove it fits into.
.
7
Detailed study of the text:
• 3. homely: simple, not grand, (of people, faces, etc.,) not goodlooking, ugly
• Who ever knew a Johnson…the woman’s family name
.
21
Detailed study of the text
• With one foot raised in flight…with my head turned in whichever way is farthest from them: Indirect speech act meaning ready to escape,
.
26
II. Detailed study of the text:
• 18. sweet gum tree: a large North American tree of the witch hazel (榛子) family, with
alternate maplelike leaves, spiny (多刺的) fruit balls, and
• The old lady tottered down the stairs.
.
13
Detailed study of the text
curse: If you curse, you use rude or offensive language,usu. because you are angry about sth. insult: If sb. insults you, they say sth. rude to you or offend you by doing or saying sth. which shows they have a low opinion of you.
EverydayUse原文+译文
EverydayUse原文+译文Everyday UseXXXI will wait for her in the yard that Maggie and I made so clean and XXX than most people know. It is notjust a yard. It is like an extended living room. When the hard clay is swept clean as afloor and the fine sand around the XXX, irregular grooves, anyone cancome and sit and look up into the elm tree and wait for the XXX.Maggie will be nervous until after her sister goes: she will stand hopelessly in corners,homely and ashamed of the burn scars down her arms and legs, eying her sister with amixture of envy and awe. She thinks her sister has held life always in the palm of onehand, that "no" is a word the world never learned to say to her.XXX those TV shows where the child who has "made it" isconfronted, as a surprise, XXX, XXX(A Pleasant surprise, of course: What would they do if parent and childcame on the show only to curse out and insult each other?) On TV XXX, thechild wraps them in her arms and leans across the table to tell how shewould not havemade it without their help. I have seen these programs.Sometimes I dream a dream in which Dee and I are XXX TV program of this sort. Out of a cark and soft-XXX with many people. There I meet a smiling, gray, sporty man XXX my hand and tells me what a fine girl I have. Then we areon the stage and Dee is embracing me with tear s in her eyes. She pins on my dress alarge orchid, even though she has told me once that she XXX.In real life I am a large, big-XXX, man-XXX to bed and overalls during the day. I can kill XXX as a man. My fat keeps me hot in zero weather. I can workoutside all day, breaking ice to get water for washing; I can XXX tire minutes after it XXX. But of course all this does not show on television. Iam the way my daughter would want me to be: a XXX, XXX. Johnny Car–son has much to do to keep up with my quick and witty tongue.But that is a mistake. I know even before I wake up. Who ever knew a Johnsonwith a quick tongue? Who can even imagine me looking a strange white man in theeye? It seems to me I have talked to them always with one XXX, XXX from them. Dee,though. She wouldalways look anyone in the eye. Hesitation was no part of her nature."How do I look, Mama?" Maggie says, showing just XXX for me to know she's there, almost hidden XXX."Come out into the yard," I say.Have you ever seen a lame animal, perhaps a dog run over by some carelessperson rich enough to own a car, XXX of him? That is the way my Maggie walks. She has been like this, chin on chest,eyes on ground, feet in shuffle, ever since the fire that burned the other house to theground.XXX than Maggie, with XXX, though sometimes I forget. How long ago was it that the other house burned?Ten, twelve years? Sometimes I can still hear the XXX's armssticking to me, XXX, blazed open by the flames reflect-ed in them.And Dee. I see her standing off under the sweet gum tree she used to dig gum out of;a look at concentration on her face as she watched the XXX-hot brick chimney. Why don't you do a dance around theashes? I'd wanted to ask her. She had hated the house that much.I used to think she hated Maggie, too. But that was before we raised the money,the church and me, to send her to Augusta toschool. She used to read to us XXX, forcing words, lies, other folks' habits, whole lives upon us two, XXX her voice. She washed us in a river of make-believe, burnedus with a lot of knowledge we XXX need to know. Pressed us to her withthe serious way she read, to shove us away at just the moment, like dimwits, XXX understand.XXX; black pumps to match a green suit she'd made from an old XXX she had a style of her own' and knew what style was.回覆人的弥补2009-09-30 18:43XXX. After second grade the school was closed down.Don't ask me why. in 1927 colored asked XXX Maggie reads to me. She stumbles along good-naturedly but can't see well.She knows she is not bright. Like good looks and money, quickness passed her by.She will marry John Thomas (who has mossy teeth in an earnest face) and then I'll befree to sit here and I XXX. Although I never was agood singer. Never could carry a tune. I was always better at a man's job. 1 used tolove to milk till I was hooked in the side in '49. Cows are soothing and slow and don'tbother you, unless you try to milk them the wrong way.I have deliberately XXX my back on the house. It is three rooms, just like theone that burned, except the roof is tin: they don't make XXX no real windows, just some holes cut in the sides, like the portholes in a ship, butnot round and not square, with rawhide holding the shutter s up on the outside. Thishouse is in a pasture, too, like the other one. No doubt when Dee sees it she will wantto tear it down. She wrote me once that no matter where we "choose" to live, she willmanage to come see us. But she will never bring her friends. Maggie and I thoughtabout this and Maggie asked me, Mama, when did Dee ever have any friends?"She had a few. XXX with her they worshiped the well-turnedphrase, the cute shape, XXX.When she was courting Jimmy T she didn't have much time to pay to us, XXX.When she comes I will meet -- but there they are!Maggie attempts to make a dash for the house, in her shuffling way, but I stay herwith my hand. "Come back here," I say. And she XXX.It is hard to see them clearly through the strong sun. But even the first glimpse ofleg out of the car tells me it is Dee. Her feetwere always neat-looking, as it Godhimself had shaped them with a certain style. From the other side of the car comes ashort, stocky man. Hair is all over his head a foot long and hanging from his XXX"Uhnnnh," is what it sounds like.Like when you see the wriggling end of a snake just in front of your toot on the road."XXX."XXX down to the ground, in this hot XXX are yel-lows XXX to throw back the light of thesun. I feel my whole face warming from the heat waves it throws out. Earrings gold,too, XXX her arm up to shake the folds of the dress out of her armpits. The dress isloose and flows, and as she walks closer, I like it. I hear Maggie go "Uhnnnh" again.It is her sister's hair. It stands straight up like the wool on a sheep. It is black as nightand around the XXX."Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!" she says, XXX with the hair to his navel is all XXX "Asalamalakim, my mother and sister!" He moves to hug Maggie but she fallsback, right up against the back of my chair.I feel her trembling there and when I lookup I see the perspiration XXX chin."Don't get up," says Dee. Since I am stout it takes something of a push. You cansee me trying to move a second or two before Imake it. She turns, XXX her sandals, and goes back to the car. Out she peeks next with aPolaroid. She stoops down quickly and lines up picture after picture of me sittingthere in front of the house with Maggie XXX of the yard she snaps it and me and Maggie and the house. Then she puts thePolaroid in the back seat of the car, and comes up and kisses me on the forehead.XXX is going through motions with Maggie's hand.Maggie's hand is as limp as a fish, and probably as cold, despite the sweat, and shekeeps trying to pull it back. It looks XXX to do it fancy. Or maybe he don't know how people XXX, hesoon gives up on Maggie."Well," I say. "Dee.""No, Mama," she says. "Not 'Dee', Wangero Leewanika Kemanjo!""XXX 'Dee'?" I wanted to know."She's dead," Wangero said. "I couldn't bear it any longer, being named after XXX.""You know as well as me you was named after your aunt Dicle," I said. Dicie ismy sister. She named Dee. We called her "Big Dee" after Dee was born."But who was she named after?" asked Wangero."I guess after XXX," I said."And who was she named after?" asked Wangero."Her mother," I said, XXX"That's about as farback as I can trace it," I said.XXX, in fact, I probably could have carried it XXX."Well," said Asalamalakim, "there you are.""XXX," I heard Maggie say."There I was not," I said, before 'Dicie' cropped up in our family, so why shouldI try to trace it that far back?"XXX grinning, looking down on me like XXX A car. Every once in a while he and XXX."How do you pronounce this name?" I asked."You don't have to call me by it if you don't want to," said Wangero."Why shouldn't I?" I asked. "If that's what you want us to call you, we'll call you.""I know it might sound awkward at first," said Wangero."I'll get used to it," I said. "Ream it out again."Well, soon we got the name out of the way. Asalamalakim had a name twice aslong and three times as hard. After I tripped over it two or three times he told me tojust call him Hakim-a-barber. I wanted to ask him was he a barber, but XXX he was, so I don't ask."XXX-cattle peoples down the road," I said. They said"Asalamalakirn" when they met you too, but they XXX, fixing the fences, putting up salt-lick shelters, XXX. When the white folks poisoned some of the herd the men stayed up all night XXX and a half just to see the sight.Hakim-a-barber said, "I accept some of their doctrines, XXX is not my style." (They didn't tell me, and I didn't ask, whether Wangero (Dee)had really gone and married him.)We sat down to eat and right away he said he XXX, though, went on through the chitlins and corn bread, the XXX her. Even the fact that we still used the XXX chairs."Oh, Mama!" she cried. Then XXX XXX-a-barber. "XXX feel the rump prints," she said, running her handsunderneath her and along the bench. Then she gave a sigh and her hand closed overGrandma XXX. "That's it!" she said. "I knew there wassomething Iwanted to ask you if I could have." She jumped up from the table and went over in thecorner where the churn stood, the milk in it clabber by now. She looked at the XXX it."This churn top is what I need," she said. "Didn't XXX it out of atree you all used to have?""Yes," I said."Uh huh, " she said happily. "And I want the dasher,too.""XXX, too?" asked the barber.Dee (Wangero) XXX."Aunt XXX," said Maggie so low you XXX't hear her. "His name was Henry, but they called him Stash.""XXX'XXX," Wanglero said, laughing. "I can use thechurn topas a center piece for the alcove table,”she said, sliding a plate over the churn,"and I'll think of something artistic to do with the dasher."回覆人的弥补2009-09-30 18:56When XXX't even have to look close to see where hands pushing the dasherup and down to make butter had left a kind of sink in the wood. In fact, there were alot of small sinks; you could see where thumbs and fingers had sunk into the wood. Itwasbeautiful light yellow wood, from a tree that grew in the yard where Big Dee andStash had lived.After XXX (Wangero) went to the trunk at the foot of my bed and startedrifling through it. Maggie hung back in the XXX Star pattern. The other was Walk Around the Mountain. In both ofthem were scraps of dresses Grandma XXX blue piece, aboutthe size of a penny matchbox, that was from Great Grandpa Ezra'XXX Civil War."Mama," Wangero said sweet as a bird. "Can I have these old quilts?"I heard something fall in the kitchen, and a minute XXX."Why don't you take one or two of the others?” 1 asked. "These old things wasjust done by me and Big Dee from some tops your grandma pieced before she died.""No," said Wangero. "I don't want those. They are XXX.""That'll make them last better," I said."That's not the point," said Wanglero. "These are all pieces of dresses Grandmaused to wear. She did all this XXX. Imagine!" She held the quilts securelyin her arms, stroking them."Some of the pieces, like those lavender ones, come from old XXX down to her,” I said, moving up to touch the quilts. Dee (Wangero) movedback just XXX."Imagine!" XXX, XXX."XXX is," I said, "I promised to give them quilts to Maggie, for when shemarries John Thomas."XXX."XXX can't appreciate these quilts!" she said. "XXX.""I rec kon she would," I said. "God knows I been savage ’em for long XXX nobody using 'em. I hope she will! ” I didn't want to bring up how I had offeredDee (Wangero) a quilt when she went away to college. Then she had told me theywere old-fashioned, out of style."But they're priceless!" she was saying now, furiouslyXXX!" "She can always make some more,” I said. "Maggie knows how to quilt. "Dee (Wangero) looked at me with hatred. "You just will not XXX these quilts, these quilts!""Well," I said,, stumped. "What would you do with them?""Hang them," she said. As it that was the only thing you could do with quilts.Maggie by now was XXX."She can have them, Mama,” she said like XXX"I can 'member Grandma XXX."I looked at her hard. She had filled her bottom lip with checkerberry snuff and itgave her face a kind of dopey, hangdog look. It was Grandma XXX of her skirt. She looked at her sister with something like fear but she wasn't madat her. This was Maggie's portion. This was the way she knew God to work.When I looked at her like that something hit me in the top of my head and randown to the soles of my feet. Just like when I'm in church and the spirit of Godtouches me and I get happy and shout.I did something I never had done Maggie to me, then dragged her on into the room, XXX them into Maggie's lap. Maggie just sat there onmy bed with her XXX."Take one or two of the others," I said to XXX.But she XXX without a word and went out to Hakim-a-barber."You just don't understand," she said, as Maggie and I came out to the car."What don't I under stand?" I wanted to know."Your heritage," she said. And then she turned to Maggie, kissed her, and said,"You ought to try to make some-thing of yourself, too, Maggie. It's really a new dayfor us. But from the way you and Mama still live you'd never know it."XXX hid everything above the tip of her XXX.XXX smiled; XXX real mile, XXX I asked Maggie to bring me a dip of snuff. And then thetwo of us sat there just enjoying, until it was time to go in the house and go to bed.NOTES1) Alice Walker: born 1944 XXX, Georgia, XXX College. Her books include The Third Life of Grange Copeland ( 1970 ),Meridian ( 1976 ), The Color Purple(1982), etc.2)"made it": to become a success, to succeed, either in specific XXX) Johnny Carson: a man who runs a XXX4)hooked: injured by the horn of the cow being XXX5) Jimmy T: 'T' is the initial of the surname of the boy Dee was courting.6)"Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!": XXX7) "Asalamalakim": phonetic rendering of a Muslim greeting8) Polaroid: a camera that produces instant pictures9) the Civil War: the war between the North and the South in the U. S.(1861-1865)10) branches: XXX) Ream it out again: "Ream" is perhaps an African dialect word meaning: "unfold,display". Hence the phrase may mean "repeat" or "say it once again"12) pork was unclean: XXX.13) Chitlins: XXX chitterlings, the small intestines of pigs, used for food, acommon dish in Afro-XXX14) rump prints: XXX15) sink: depressions in the wood of the handle left by the thumbs and fingers外婆的日用家当XXX我就在这院子里等候她的到来。
高级英语第四课EverydayUse
6
I. Background
高级英语第四课EverydayUse
About Alice Walker and her works
Alice Walker (1944- ), poet, novelist and essayist.
one of the most prominent writers in American literature and a most forceful representative of women’s literature and black literature.
After experiencing the political movement she became a teacher of creative writing and black literature, lecturing at Jackson State College, Yale and university of California at Berkeley.
Walker‘s women characters display strength, endurance, and resourcefulness机敏 in confronting — and overcoming — oppression (racism and sexism) in their lives.
高级阅读-Everyday use(修辞)
Everyday Use for your grandmamma
修辞手法
Rhetoric
Simile(明喻)
• e.g. 1) The yard was like an extended living room.( Para.1)
• 2) Maggie’s hand is as limp as a fish, and probably as cold, despite the sweat, and she keeps trying to pull it back.( Para.23)
Irony (反语)
• Irony consists in saying one thing but meaning exactly the opposite.
• e.g. “What don’t I understand?” I wanted to know. "Your heritage,” she said.( Para. 7980)
Onomatopoeia( 拟声)
• e.g. Like when you see the wriggling end of a snake just in front of your foot on the road.( Para. 19)
Personification （拟人）
• She thinks her sister has held life always in the palm of one hand, that “no” is a word the world never learned to say to her.
Metaphor(暗喻)
• e.g. Every once in a while he and Wangero sent eye signals over my head.( Para.36)
高级英语第一册Unit4 Everyday Use
tottering: being unsteady on one’s feet; staggering
New words
tongue: the act or power of speaking; manner or style of speaking e.g. ready tongue
敏捷的口才
dimwit: (slang) a stupid person, a simpleton
to do it fancy: to do in an
ornamental, elaborate manner.
Phrases and expressions
blue steak: (colloquial) anything
regarded as like a streak of lightning in speed, vividness, etc. to talk a blue streak: to talk much and rapidly.
New words
extended: prolonged, continued; enlarged in influence, meaning, scope, etc. e.g. extended care: nursing care provided for a limited time after a hospital stay extended family: a group of relatives by blood, marriage or adoption, often including a nuclear family, living together, esp. three generations are involved. homely: not good-looking, or handsome; plain, unattractive
高级英语第三课Everyday-use-for-your-grandmama课件
词。其基本结构为：as+ adj./ adv. +as。 ❖ 例如： ❖ (1)This film is as interesting as that one.这部电影和那部电影一样有趣。 ❖ 其否定式为not as/so +adj./ adv. +as。例如： ❖ This dictionary is not as/so useful as you think.这本字典不如你想象的那样有用
(4)as far as He walked as far as the railway station yesterday evening.昨天傍晚，他 一直散步到火车站。
(5)as well as
2021/6/7 She cooks as well as her mother does.她烧菜烧得跟她母亲一样好。
9
王 I probably could have carried it back beyond the Civil War through the branches .
对我们的家史我大概能够追溯到南北战争之前 ❖ carry it back：. 运回；拿回；使回想；使回忆起
through ❖ prep.通过，穿过；经由；透过；凭借 ❖ adv.从头到尾；彻底；自始至终 ❖ adj.（电话）接通；通话完毕；有洞的；直达的 这里应该取它贯穿的意思，
❖ 如：slaming the door，she went out.关上门，她走了出去。这两个动作 都是同时的，但是句子主要是说她出去这个意义，并不想强调关门，所 以关门是伴随状语。这里伴随状语前置，按逗号来判断显然在此不行。
高英第三课everyday use课件
• “why don’t you take one or two of the others?”I asked. “你何不拿另外一两床呢?”我问道。
• “These old things was just done by me and Big Dee from some tops your grandma pieced before she died.” “这两床还是你外婆去世前用布条拼起来，然后由大迪伊和我两人缝 起来的旧被子。”
• in stitches 忍不住大笑，忍俊不禁 • a stitch in time 及时处理 • A stitch in time saves nine. [谚]小洞不补, 大洞
吃苦; 及时处理, 事半功倍。
• By hand 手工 • in hand 在进行中 ; 在控制中 ; 在掌握中 ; 待办理 • hand in 交上 ; 上交 ; 递交 ; 交上来
Words;
(1) clutch; hold something tightly 抓住，紧握 He clutched the rope we threw to him.
In the clutch 在关键时刻；clutch at 抓住 (2) bosom; a person’s breast or her chest 胸，胸怀
• adj. 猛烈抨击的；猛砸的 • v. 猛烈抨击（slam的过去分词）；猛撞 • ①(把…)砰地关上;(把…)使劲关上 • She slammed the door and locked it behind her. • 她砰地关上门，身后的门锁上了。 • ②VERB---摔;使劲扔;砰地放下 • She listened in a mixture of shock and anger before slamming the phone
大学高级英语第一册张汉熙版第四课原文加翻译Everyday_Use_for_your_grandmama
Everyday Use for your grandmamaAlice WalkerI will wait for her in the yard that Maggie and I made so clean and wavy yester day afternoon. A yard like this is more comfortable than most people know. It is not just a yard. It is like an extended living room. When the hard clay is swept clean as a floor and the fine sand around the edges lined with tiny, irregular grooves, anyone can come and sit and look up into the elm tree and wait for the breezes that never come inside the house.Maggie will be nervous until after her sister goes: she will stand hopelessly in corners, homely and ashamed of the burn scars down her arms and legs, eying her sister with a mixture of envy and awe. She thinks her sister has held life always in the palm of one hand, that "no" is a word the world never learned to say to her.You've no doubt seen those TV shows where the child who has "made it" is confronted, as a surprise, by her own mother and father, tottering in weakly from backstage. (A Pleasant surprise, of course: What would they do if parent and child came on the show only to curse out and insult each other?) On TV mother and child embrace and smile into each other's face. Sometimes the mother and father weep, the child wraps them in her arms and leans across the table to tell how she would not have made it without their help. I have seen these programs.Sometimes I dream a dream in which Dee and I are suddenly brought together on a TV program of this sort. Out of a cark and soft-seated limousine I am ushered into abright room filled with many people. There I meet a smiling, gray, sporty man like Johnny Carson who shakes my hand and tells me what a fine girl I have. Then we are on the stage and Dee is embracing me with tear s in her eyes. She pins on my dress a large orchid, even though she has told me once that she thinks or chides are tacky flowers.In real life I am a large, big-boned woman with rough, man-working hands. In the winter I wear flannel nightgowns to bed and overalls during the day. I can kill and clean a hog as mercilessly as a man. My fat keeps me hot in zero weather. I can work outside all day, breaking ice to get water for washing; I can eat pork liver cooked over the open tire minutes after it comes steaming from the hog. One winter I knocked a bull calf straight in the brain between the eyes with a sledge hammer and had the meat hung up to chill be-fore nightfall. But of course all this does not show on television. I am the way my daughter would want me to be: a hundred pounds lighter, my skin like an uncooked barley pan-cake. My hair glistens in the hot bright lights. Johnny Car – son has much to do to keep up with my quick and witty tongue.But that is a mistake. I know even before I wake up. Who ever knew a Johnson with a quick tongue? Who can even imagine me looking a strange white man in the eye? It seems to me I have talked to them always with one toot raised in flight, with my head turned in whichever way is farthest from them. Dee, though. She would always look anyone in the eye. Hesitation was no part of her nature."How do I look, Mama?" Maggie says, showing just enough of her thin body enveloped in pink skirt and red blouse for me to know she's there, almost hidden by the door."Come out into the yard," I say.Have you ever seen a lame animal, perhaps a dog run over by some careless person rich enough to own a car, sidle up to someone who is ignorant enough to be kind of him? That is the way my Maggie walks. She has been like this, chin on chest, eyes on ground, feet in shuffle, ever since the fire that burned the other house to the ground.Dee is lighter than Maggie, with nicer hair and a fuller figure. She's a woman now, though sometimes I forget. How long ago was it that the other house burned? Ten, twelve years? Sometimes I can still hear the flames and feel Maggie's arms sticking to me, her hair smoking and her dress falling off her in little black papery flakes. Her eyes seemed stretched open, blazed open by the flames reflect-ed in them. And Dee. I see her standing off under the sweet gum tree she used to dig gum out of; a look at concentration on her face as she watched the last dingy gray board of the house tall in toward the red-hot brick chimney. Why don't you do a dance around the ashes? I'd wanted to ask her. She had hated the house that much.I used to think she hated Maggie, too. But that was before we raised the money, the church and me, to send her to Augusta to school. She used to read to us without pity, forcing words, lies, other folks' habits, whole lives upon us two, sitting trapped and ignorant underneath her voice. She washed us in a river of make-believe, burned us with a lot of knowledge we didn't necessarily need to know. Pressed us to her with the serious way she read, to shove us away at just the moment, like dimwits, we seemed about to understand.Dee wanted nice things. A yellow organdy dress to wear to her graduation fromhigh school; black pumps to match a green suit she'd made from an old suit somebody gave me. She was determined to stare down any disaster in her efforts. Her eyelids would not flicker for minutes at a time. Often I fought off the temptation to shake her. At sixteen she had a style of her own' and knew what style was.I never had an education myself. After second grade the school was closed down. Don't ask me why. in 1927 colored asked fewer questions than they do now. Sometimes Maggie reads to me. She stumbles along good-naturedly but can't see well. She knows she is not bright. Like good looks and money, quickness passed her by. She will marry John Thomas (who has mossy teeth in an earnest face) and then I'll be free to sit here and I guess just sing church songs to myself. Although I never was a good singer. Never could carry a tune. I was always better at a man's job. 1 used to love to milk till I was hooked in the side in '49. Cows are soothing and slow and don't bother you, unless you try to milk them the wrong way.I have deliberately turned my back on the house. It is three rooms, just like the one that burned, except the roof is tin: they don't make shingle roofs any more. There are no real windows, just some holes cut in the sides, like the portholes in a ship, but not round and not square, with rawhide holding the shutter s up on the outside. This house is in a pasture, too, like the other one. No doubt when Dee sees it she will want to tear it down. She wrote me once that no matter where we "choose" to live, she will manage to come see us. But she will never bring her friends. Maggie and I thought about this and Maggie asked me, Mama, when did Dee ever have any friends?"She had a few. Furtive boys in pink shirts hanging about on washday after school.Nervous girls who never laughed. Impressed with her they worshiped the well-turned phrase, the cute shape, the scalding humor that erupted like bubbles in lye. She read to them.When she was courting Jimmy T she didn't have much time to pay to us, but turned all her faultfinding power on him. He flew to marry a cheap city girl from a family of ignorant flashy people. She hardly had time to recompose herself.When she comes I will meet -- but there they are!Maggie attempts to make a dash for the house, in her shuffling way, but I stay her with my hand. "Come back here," I say. And she stops and tries to dig a well in the sand with her toe.It is hard to see them clearly through the strong sun. But even the first glimpse of leg out of the car tells me it is Dee. Her feet were always neat-looking, as it God himself had shaped them with a certain style. From the other side of the car comes a short, stocky man. Hair is all over his head a foot long and hanging from his chin like a kinky mule tail. I hear Maggie suck in her breath. "Uhnnnh," is what it sounds like. Like when you see the wriggling end of a snake just in front of your toot on the road. "Uhnnnh."Dee next. A dress down to the ground, in this hot weather. A dress so loud it hurts my eyes. There are yel-lows and oranges enough to throw back the light of the sun. I feel my whole face warming from the heat waves it throws out. Earrings gold, too, and hanging down to her shoulders. Bracelets dangling and making noises when she moves her arm up to shake the folds of the dress out of her armpits. The dress is loose and flows, and as she walks closer, I like it. I hear Maggie go "Uhnnnh" again. It is her sister'shair. It stands straight up like the wool on a sheep. It is black as night and around the edges are two long pigtails that rope about like small lizards disappearing behind her ears."Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!" she says, coming on in that gliding way the dress makes her move. The short stocky fellow with the hair to his navel is all grinning and he follows up with "Asalamalakim, my mother and sister!" He moves to hug Maggie but she falls back, right up against the back of my chair. I feel her trembling there and when I look up I see the perspiration falling off her chin."Don't get up," says Dee. Since I am stout it takes something of a push. You can see me trying to move a second or two before I make it. She turns, showing white heels through her sandals, and goes back to the car. Out she peeks next with a Polaroid. She stoops down quickly and lines up picture after picture of me sitting there in front of the house with Maggie cowering behind me. She never takes a shot without making sure the house is included. When a cow comes nibbling around the edge of the yard she snaps it and me and Maggie and the house. Then she puts the Polaroid in the back seat of the car, and comes up and kisses me on the forehead.Meanwhile Asalamalakim is going through motions with Maggie's hand. Maggie's hand is as limp as a fish, and probably as cold, despite the sweat, and she keeps trying to pull it back. It looks like Asalamalakim wants to shake hands but wants to do it fancy. Or maybe he don't know how people shake hands. Anyhow, he soon gives up on Maggie."Well," I say. "Dee.""No, Mama," she says. "Not 'Dee', Wangero Leewanika Kemanjo!""What happened to 'Dee'?" I wanted to know."She's dead," Wangero said. "I couldn't bear it any longer, being named after the people who oppress me.""You know as well as me you was named after your aunt Dicle," I said. Dicie is my sister. She named Dee. We called her "Big Dee" after Dee was born."But who was she named after?" asked Wangero."I guess after Grandma Dee," I said."And who was she named after?" asked Wangero."Her mother," I said, and saw Wangero was getting tired. "That's about as far back as I can trace it," I said.Though, in fact, I probably could have carried it back beyond the Civil War through the branches."Well," said Asalamalakim, "there you are.""Uhnnnh," I heard Maggie say."There I was not," I said, before 'Dicie' cropped up in our family, so why should I try to trace it that far back?"He just stood there grinning, looking down on me like somebody inspecting a Model A car. Every once in a while he and Wangero sent eye signals over my head."How do you pronounce this name?" I asked."You don't have to call me by it if you don't want to," said Wangero."Why shouldn't I?" I asked. "If that's what you want us to call you, we'll call you. ""I know it might sound awkward at first," said Wangero."I'll get used to it," I said. "Ream it out again."Well, soon we got the name out of the way. Asalamalakim had a name twice as long and three times as hard. After I tripped over it two or three times he told me to just call him Hakim-a-barber. I wanted to ask him was he a barber, but I didn't really think he was, so I don't ask."You must belong to those beet-cattle peoples down the road," I said. They said "Asalamalakirn" when they met you too, but they didn't Shake hands. Always too busy feeding the cattle, fixing the fences, putting up salt-lick shelters, throwing down hay. When the white folks poisoned some of the herd the men stayed up all night with rifles in their hands. I walked a mile and a half just to see the sight.Hakim-a-barber said, "I accept some of their doctrines, but farming and raising cattle is not my style." (They didn't tell me, and I didn't ask, whether Wangero (Dee) had really gone and married him.)We sat down to eat and right away he said he didn't eat collards and pork was unclean. Wangero, though, went on through the chitlins and corn bread, the greens and every-thing else. She talked a blue streak over the sweet potatoes. Everything delighted her. Even the fact that we still used the benches her daddy made for the table when we couldn't afford to buy chairs."Oh, Mama!" she cried. Then turned to Hakim-a-barber. "I never knew how lovely these benches are. You can feel the rump prints," she said, running her hands underneath her and along the bench. Then she gave a sigh and her hand closed overGrandma Dee's butter dish. "That's it!" she said. "I knew there was something I wanted to ask you if I could have." She jumped up from the table and went over in the corner where the churn stood, the milk in it clabber by now. She looked at the churn and looked at it."This churn top is what I need," she said. "Didn't Uncle Buddy whittle it out of a tree you all used to have?""Yes," I said."Uh huh, " she said happily. "And I want the dasher,too.""Uncle Buddy whittle that, too?" asked the barber.Dee (Wangero) looked up at me."Aunt Dee's first husband whittled the dash," said Maggie so low you almost couldn't hear her. "His name was Henry, but they called him Stash.""Maggie's brain is like an elephants," Wanglero said, laughing. "I can use the churn top as a center piece for the alcove table,”she said, sliding a plate over the churn, "and I'll think of something artistic to do with the dasher."When she finished wrapping the dasher the handle stuck out. I took it for a moment in my hands. You didn't even have to look close to see where hands pushing the dasher up and down to make butter had left a kind of sink in the wood. In fact, there were a lot of small sinks; you could see where thumbs and fingers had sunk into the wood. It was beautiful light yellow wood, from a tree that grew in the yard where Big Dee and Stash had lived.After dinner Dee (Wangero) went to the trunk at the foot of my bed and startedrifling through it. Maggie hung back in the kitchen over the dishpan. Out came Wangero with two quilts. They had been pieced by Grandma Dee and then Big Dee and me had hung them on the quilt frames on the front porch and quilted them. One was in the Lone Star pattern. The other was Walk Around the Mountain. In both of them were scraps of dresses Grandma Dee had worn fifty and more years ago. Bit sand pieces of Grandpa Jarrell's Paisley shirts. And one teeny faded blue piece, about the size of a penny matchbox, that was from Great Grandpa Ezra's uniform that he wore in the Civil War."Mama," Wangero said sweet as a bird. "Can I have these old quilts?"I heard something fall in the kitchen, and a minute later the kitchen door slammed."Why don't you take one or two of the others?” 1 asked. "These old things was just done by me and Big Dee from some tops your grandma pieced before she died.""No," said Wangero. "I don't want those. They are stitched around the borders by machine.""That'll make them last better," I said."That's not the point," said Wanglero. "These are all pieces of dresses Grandma used to wear. She did all this stitching by hand. Imagine!" She held the quilts securely in her arms, stroking them."Some of the pieces, like those lavender ones, come from old clothes her mother handed down to her,” I said, moving up to touch the quilts. Dee (Wangero) moved back just enough so that I couldn't reach the quilts. They already belonged to her. "Imagine!" she breathed again, clutching them closely to her bosom."The truth is," I said, "I promised to give them quilts to Maggie, for when she marriesJohn Thomas."She gasped like a bee had stung her."Maggie can't appreciate these quilts!" she said. "She'd probably be backward enough to put them to everyday use.""I reckon she would," I said. "God knows I been savage ’em for long enough with nobody using 'em. I hope she will! ” I didn't want to bring up how I had offered Dee (Wangero) a quilt when she went away to college. Then she had told me they were old-fashioned, out of style."But they're priceless!" she was saying now, furiously, for she has a temper. "Maggie would put them on the bed and in five years they'd be in rags. Less than that!" "She can always make some more,” I said. "Maggie knows how to quilt. "Dee (Wangero) looked at me with hatred. "You just will not understand. The point is these quilts, these quilts!""Well," I said,, stumped. "What would you do with them?""Hang them," she said. As it that was the only thing you could do with quilts.Maggie by now was standing in the door. I could almost hear the sound her feet made as they scraped over each other."She can have them, Mama,” she said like somebody used to neve r winning anything, or having anything reserved for her. "I can 'member Grandma Dee without the quilts."I looked at her hard. She had filled her bottom lip with checkerberry snuff and it gave her face a kind of dopey, hangdog look. It was Grandma Dee and Big Dee whotaught her how to quilt herself. She stood there with her scarred hands hidden in the folds of her skirt. She looked at her sister with something like fear but she wasn't mad at her. This was Maggie's portion. This was the way she knew God to work.When I looked at her like that something hit me in the top of my head and ran down to the soles of my feet. Just like when I'm in church and the spirit of God touches me and I get happy and shout. I did something I never had done before: hugged Maggie to me, then dragged her on into the room, snatched the quilts out of Miss Wangero's hands and dumped them into Maggie's lap. Maggie just sat there on my bed with her mouth open."Take one or two of the others," I said to Dee.But she turned without a word and went out to Hakim-a-barber."You just don't understand," she said, as Maggie and I came out to the car."What don't I under stand?" I wanted to know."Your heritage," she said. And then she turned to Maggie, kissed her, and said, "You ought to try to make some-thing of yourself, too, Maggie. It's really a new day for us. But from the way you and Mama still live you'd never know it."She put on some sunglasses that hid everything above the tip of her nose and her chin.Maggie smiled; maybe at the sunglasses. But a real mile, not scared. After we watched the car dust settle I asked Maggie to bring me a dip of snuff. And then the two of us sat there just enjoying, until it was time to go in the house and go to bed.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------NOTES1) Alice Walker: born 1944 in Eatonton, Georgia, America and graduated from Sarah Lawrence College. Her books include The Third Life of Grange Copeland ( 1970 ), Meridian ( 1976 ), The Color Purple(1982), etc.2)"made it": to become a success, to succeed, either in specific endeavor or in general3) Johnny Carson: a man who runs a late night talk show4)hooked: injured by the horn of the cow being milked5) Jimmy T: 'T' is the initial of the surname of the boy Dee was courting.6)"Wa-su-zo-Tean-o!": phonetic rendering of an African dialect salutation7) "Asalamalakim": phonetic rendering of a Muslim greeting8) Polaroid: a camera that produces instant pictures9) the Civil War: the war between the North and the South in the U. S.(1861-1865)10) branches: branches or divisions of a family descending from a common ancestor11) Ream it out again: "Ream" is perhaps an African dialect word meaning: "unfold, display". Hence the phrase may mean "repeat" or "say it once again"12) pork was unclean: Muslims are forbidden by their religion to eat pork because it is considered to be unclean.13) Chitlins: also chitlings or chitterlings, the small intestines of pigs, used for food, a common dish in Afro-American households14) rump prints: depressions in the benches made by constant sitting15) sink: depressions in the wood of the handle left by the thumbs and fingers第四课外婆的日用家当艾丽斯•沃克尔“我会慢慢习惯的，”我说，“你给我再念一遍吧。
高级英语第一册Unit4 Everyday Use
to do it fancy: to do in an
ornamental, elaborate manner.
Phrases and expressions
blue steak: (colloquial) anything
regarded as like a streak of lightning in speed, vividness, etc. to talk a blue streak: to talk much and rapidly.
furtive: done or acting in a stealthy manner, as if to hinder observation; surreptitious, stealthy, sneaky.
New words
washday: a day, often the same day every week, when the clothes, linens, etc. of a household are washed.
Unit4 Everyday Use
Alice Walker
Alice Walker (1944-), poet, novelist and essayist, was born Into a poor rural family in Eatonton, Georgia. Her writing career began with the publication of a volume of poetry in 1968,with was followed by a number of novels, short stories critical essays and more poetry. Her works include The Life of Grange Copeland(1970), Meridian (1976), a biography of Langston Hughes (1973), a volume of poetry Revolutionary Petunias and Other Poems (1973), a collection of short stories In Love and Troubles: Stories of Black Women (1973) and a recent novel The Temple of My Familiar (1989). Her most significant novel is The Color Purple, published in 1982.
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9
Detailed Study of the Text
• Section 1 of part I
• The setting: yard, house
• Maggie: appearance
• Comparison with her sister: eying her with a mixture of envy and awe
were The Color Purple which won
the Pulitzer Prize of Fiction （普 利策小说奖） and The American Book Award（美国图书奖）. In
1985, the Color Purple was made into a movie which won great fame.
designing and building the new
system.
.
12
II. Detailed study of the text:
• 6. totter: to move in an unsteady way from side to side as if about to fall, to walk with weak unsteady steps
.
3
.
4
Important & Difficult points
• The comprehension of the whole story • The understanding of colloquial,
slangy or black English expressions • The appreciation of the writing
–The wavy lines are meant to represent water.
• Here in the text the word
describes the marks in wavy
patterns on the clay ground left
by the broom.
.
6
Detailed study of the text:
• The old lady tottered down the stairs.
.
13
Detailed study of the text
curse: If you curse, you use rude or offensive language,usu. because you are angry about sth. insult: If sb. insults you, they say sth. rude to you or offend you by doing or saying sth. which shows they have a low opinion of you.
• If a problem, task, or difficulty confronts you, or you are confronted with it, it is sth. that you cannot avoid and must deal with
• I was confronted with the task of
• The cupboard door slides open along the groove it fits into.
.
7
Detailed study of the text:
• 3. homely: simple, not grand, (of people, faces, etc.,) not goodlooking, ugly
• 2. groove: a long narrow path or track made in a surface, esp. to guide the movement of sth.(here the explanation is not pro cut into a surface.
technique • Cultural difference between
nationalities in the US
.
5
Detailed study of the text:
• 1. wavy: having regular curves
–A wavy line has a series of regular curves along it.
• Sister has held life in the palm of
one hand
.
10
Detailed study of the text
• have made it: if you make it, you are successful in achieving sth. Difficult, or in surviving through a very difficult period.
• I believe I have the talent to make it.
• You are brave and courageous. You can make it.
.
11
Detailed study of the text:
• 5. confront: to face boldly or threateningly, encounter
Lesson 4
Everyday Use
for Your Grandmama
by Alice Walker
.
1
Alice Walker
.
2
Background Information
• Alice Walker wrote quite a number of novels, among them
• If someone is homely, they are not very attractive to look at; used in Am.E.
.
8
Detailed study of the text:
• 4. awe: Awe is the feeling of
respect and amazement that you have when you are faced with sth. wonderful, frightening or completely unknown.