高级英语上讲义Lesson12
英语高级口语 Lesson 12
英语高级口语 Lesson 12Lesson 12Is It Necessary to Develop Toarism?TextA Little Good Will Can Help People Understand Each OtherToday we had an American family, the Robinsons, for Sunday dinner. The man is in China on a joint project with the department where Mum works. They work in the same office and as Mum knows a little English she ofteninterpretes for him too, so they got to know each other very well.He had often expressed his wish of meeting her family, but Mum hardly dared to invite him to our old slum of a place. Now that.we've moved to our new apartment we have a more or less presentable place to entertain him and his family. Granny was the only one who had any misgivings about having \They came about twelve - Mr. & Mrs. Robinson and their two young daughters about Xiao Hong's age. Mrs. Robinson gave Mum a bunch of fresh flowers, bringing colour, freshness and their good will. Mum did the introduction andit was left to ourselves to get to know each other. As was natural Xiao Hong soon got on very well with the two girls Judy and Annie. They all had a common love for Xiao Hong's little kitten and they had endless fun with it.Mrs. Robinson was much younger than her husband, but she was friendly and kindly and knows a little Chinese. There was a moment ofembarrassment when Granny asked her age. Mum was about to apologize when Mrs. Robinson laughed and said it was quite all right, that she had been here long enough to know it was the Chinese custom. She quite blandly told us that she was thirty-two, almost twenty years herhusband'sjunior. When they learned that Mum was almost ten years her senior, they were genuinely surprised, for Mum does look quite young. \wonder you are so good and experienced at your work. I had thought you were fresh from . college! \And of course they thoroughly enjoyed the dinner. Iike a perfect Chinese hostess Mum and especially Granny kept stuffing them with food and urging them to eat and to drink, apologizing all the time that \and coarse fare. \praises and protestations. \now we know what it's really like. How can you describe such a lavish meal as meager and coarse? Any hostess in the West would be proud of such a feast instead of apologizing for it,\\and drink,\certainly don't need any urging. The problem is rather how to prevent myself from over-eating! But back at home I often had to ask for a second helping and my hostess would feel flattered that I should want more of her stuff. Here you don't even give me a chance to ask for,more!\laughing at that.When they rose to leave they thanked us profusely not only for'the excellent dinner, but for giving them such a nice time. \Friendship.Hotel isn't really living in China. Today we feel we are really in China. We' ve learnt much more about the Chinese people and Chinese way of life today than half a year in the Friendship Hotel. You must all come tovisit us one day. Or better still, come and see us in the States on day. \Judy and Annie were reluctant to go. They made Xiao Hong promise to visit them at Friendship Hotel, telling her not to forget bringing the kitten with her! They insisted on giving everyone of us a hug and a kiss, which quite embarrassed me. I think Granny was really touched when they kissed her. All her misgivings had been dispelled.It' s surprising how a little good will on both sides can break language and cultural barriers.II. ReadRead the following passages. Underline the important viewpoints while reading.l. The Tourist Trade Contributes Absolutely Nothing to Increasing Understanding between NationsThe tourist trade is booming. With all this ceming and going, you'd expect greater understanding to develop between the nations of the world. Not a bit of it! Superb systems of communication by air, sea and land make it possible for us to visit each other's countries at a moderate cost. What was once the \everybody's grasp. The package tour and chartered flights are not to be sneered at. Modern travellers enjoy a level of comfort which the lords and ladies on grand tours in the old days couldn't have dreamed of. But what'sthe sense of this mass exchange of populations if the nations of the world remain basically ignorant of each other?Many tourist organizations are directly responsible for this state of affairs. They deliberately set out to protect their clients from too much contact with the local population. The modern tourist leads a cosseted, sheltered life. He lives at international hotels, where he eats his international food and.sips his international drink while he gazes at the natives from a distance. Conducted tours to places of interest are carefully censored. The tourist is allowed to see orily what the organizers want him to see and no more.A strict schedule makes it impossible for the tourist to wander off on his own ~ and anyway, language is always a barrier, so he is only too happy to be protected in this way. At its very worst, this leads to a new and hideous kind of colonisation. The summer quarters of the inhabitants of the citeuniversitair are temporarily re-established on the island of Corfu. Blackpool is recreated at Torremolinos where the traveller goes not to eat'paella, but fish and chips.The sad thing about this situation is that it leads to the persistence of national stereotypes. We don't see the people of other nations as they really are, but as we have been brought up to believe they are. You can test this for yourself. Take five nationalities, say, French, German, English, American and Italian. Now in your mind, match them with these five adjectives: musical, amorous, cold, pedantic, naive. Far from providing us with any insight into the national characteristics of the people just mentioned, these adjectives actually act as barriers.So when you set out on your, travels, the only characteristics you notice are those which confirm your preconceptions. You come away with the highly unoriginal and inaccurate impression that, say, \hypocriies\foreign friends to understand how absurd and harmful national stereotypes are. But how can you make foreign friends when the tourist trade does its best to prevent you?Carried to an extreme, stereotypes can be positively dangerous. Wild generalisations stir up racial hatred and blind us to the basic facthow. trite it soundsl -that all people are human. We are all similar to each other and at the same time all unique.2. Leaving with a Love of ChinaVery soon I will be leaving China. I am well aware that three and a half years is not enough time to \appreciation for what has been a marvellousexperience, made even richer because I worked for the Coal Industry Ministryat Shandong Mining College, first at Jinan, and for the past 2 1/2 years atTai'an. Living on campus in the small city of Tai'an,at the foot of Taishan, was a privilege. It gave me a view of China which can never be afforded to those who live in Beijing or Shanghai or any large city. After all, Beijing is not China, any more than New York City is the United States.Of course there have been hardships, frustrations and difficulties. But that,s life, anywhere.The courtesy, consideration and friendliness which have been extended to me, daily, are precious and lasting. I have traveled over much of China. Mostof all, more than all the antiquities, battlefields, scenery, coal mines, factories, temples, operas, and the rest, it is the Chinese people whocaptured my heart - sincere, warm, incredibly industrious, unsophisticated, and capable of deeper, truer friendship than most Westerners can even imagine.I have been welcomed into the homes of many Chinese. I have friends from 3 to 83, peasants, workers, professors, doctors, cooks, drivers. I have known people as they suffer and struggle and laugh and weep and argue and have fun - like all human beings. I have always tried not to \American eyes\I suggest to those shallow elitists who.can't live without their golf\shoulder pole up the 7, 000 steps of Taishan. Wonderful exercise, and you can earn 2 yuan a day. Those who complain about Yransportationdifficulties of any kind can watch the lao taitai-the old ladies withbound feet - who walk from their villages and make the arduous ascent of Taishan, cheerful and spry. Or ride a bus in any Chinese city at the rush hour, as the Chinese must do every day. (Or any American city; or deal with aManhattan cabbie. ) And those who complain of the bureaucracy should try going to the Social Security Administration in the US when you are one of the poor and powerless.I hope to come back to China some day. But. no matter what, I will neverlose what I,ve been given here.My thanks to all Chinese for showing me a new, higher standard ofstrength of character and kindness. And my thanks particularly to the people of Shandong Mining College for their unlimited, unstinted loving care.3. Yunnan Makes Efforts to Boost TourismStarting from scratch, tourism in Yunnan Province has made progress by leaps and bounds in the last decade. Only 1, 284 foreign tourists went therein 1978, the year when the provincial tourism bureau was established. Thefigure rose to 121, 300 in 1988 - an average annual increase of 25. 4 per cent, said deputy bureau chief Miao Kuihe in an interview .In the provincial capital of Kunming alone, there are 11 posh hotels, with accommodations chiefly for foreign tourists, and nine travel agencies that provide services for them. There are also 10 arts and crafts stores inKunming with a variety of articles with exotic flavours, includingnational costumes of the minorities.In such a short time, tourism has asserted its role in the socio-economic development of the province.In Kunming, tourism has provided jobs for 12, 000 people. In the whole province 25, 000 people work in tourist departments.Tourism has helped to promote the catering trade, transportation service and commerce of Kunming. It has helped to accelerate the city construction and its embellishment. Moreover, contact with tourists from afar haswidened the horizons of the locals, deputy director of the municipal tourism bureau Peng Shaoxi said.It has become a consensus of local authorities that tourism is a vanguard ndustry in opening the province to the outside world;it is of trategicimportance in economic development, and it represents the orientation of urban construction. In 1988, the provincial government listed tourism as the sixth industry in.importance in economic development, said deputy bureau chief Miao.Now, 29 of Yunnan's municipalities and counties are made open to foreigners, a fact favourable to tourism.Because of Yunnan' s abundant tourist resources, Miao envisions still brighter prospects for the tourism of the province.It is estimated that by 1995, Yunnan will receive about 200, 000 tourists 感谢您的阅读，祝您生活愉快。
lesson 12 高级英语Ships in the Desert
Gore and Clinton
1. Introduction about the author
Al Gore（1948-）： Served in the United States Army (1969–1971); Profession: Author, Politician, Environmental Activist Political party: Democratic Member of the U.S. House of Representatives from Tennessee (1977 – 1985); United States Senator from Tennessee (1985 – 1993); 45th Vice President of the United States (January 20, 1993 – January 20, 2001) under President Bill Clinton; Democratic Party's nominee for President and lost the 2000 U.S. presidential election (against George W. Bush Jr. )despite winning the popular vote.
anchor n. a piece of heavy metal that is
lowered to the bottom of the sea, lake, etc. to prevent a ship or boat moving
LANGUAGE POINTS – PARA. 1
v. 1) to lower the anchor on a ship or boat to hold it in
高级英语(第三版)第一册第十二课 Ships in the Desert
action.
Para. 11 The military system: “local” skirmishes, “regional” battles, and “strategic” conflicts
Paras. 21-26: Solution
• A. Recognizing the starling images of destruction
• B. Understanding the two aspects • C. Changing the view of the
relationship-Educate people
Para.10 The importance of organizing our thoughts
it may be helpful to classify them and thus begin to organize our thoughts and feelings so that we may be able to respond appropriately:
• What should we feel toward these ghosts in the sky:
• What should our attitude be toward these noctilucent clouds in the sky?
Para 9. Human’s puzzling response
environment • To be able to talk about environmental
高级英语第12课
Lesson 12: Why I WriteFrom a very early age, perhaps the age of five or six, I knew that when I grew up I should be a writer.Between the ages of about seventeen and twenty-four I tried to abandon this idea, but I did so with the consciousness that I was outraging my true nature and that sooner or later I should have to settle down and write books.=During the age of 15 to 24, I attempted to give up this idea, but when I was doing so, I felt that it was ruining my essential quality and that I would engage in writing sooner or later.I was the middle child of three, but there was a gap of five years on either side, and I barely saw my father before I was eight- For this and other reasons I was somewhat lonely, and I soon developed disagreeable mannerisms which made me unpopular throughout my schooldays.=Among the three kids, I was the middle with the gap of five years to the rest of them. [ I was five years younger than my elder brother and five years older than my younger brother. ] Before I was eight, I seldom saw my father. I thus felt lonely for this and perhaps other unknown reasons. Hence, I was not agreeable to people due to my personality, which resulted in my unpopularity in schooldays. mannerism=A distinctive behavioral trait;习性：明显的行为特征；习性Somewhat=To some extent or degree; rather.相当：达到某种范围或程度；相当Develop=To bring into being gradually:逐渐形成：I had the lonely child's habit of making up stories and holding conversations with imaginary persons, and I think from the very start my literary ambitions were mixed up with the feeling of being isolated and undervalued.=Like every other child who felt lonely all the time, I enjoyed invented stories and talked to people that didn’t exist. From the very beginning, I suppose, my aspiration for writing was closely connected with the felling of being lonely and being slighted.I knew that I had a facility with words and a power of facing unpleasant facts, and I felt that this created a sort of private world in which I could get my own back for my failure=I was aware that I was capable of commanding words[ I had the natural ability to use words easily and well.] and confronting the dark sides of the reality, which, I assume, constructed a private space for me in which I could make up for my failure.. . As a very small child I used to imagine that I was, say, Robin Hood, and picture myself as the hero of thrilling adventures, but quite soon my "story" ceased to be narcissistic 【Excessive love or admiration of oneself.】in a crude 【Not carefully or completely made; rough. 】way and became more and more a mere description of what I was doing and the things I saw.=When I was very little, I always imagined me being the hero of exciting and horrifying adventures, such as Robin Hood, but before long, I stop such simpleself-admiration and began to put what I saw and what I was doing into my story.一连几分钟，我脑子里常会有类似这样的描述：“他推开门，走进屋，一缕黄昏的阳光，透过薄纱窗帘，斜照在桌上。
lesson 12 高级英语Ships in the Desert教学文案
Al Gore’s two main books on the threat and solution to global warming:
Tennessee (1977 – 1985); United States Senator from Tennessee (1985 – 1993); 45th Vice President of the United States (January 20, 1993 –
January 20, 2001) under President Bill Clinton; Democratic Party's nominee for President and lost the
Earth in the Balance (in 1992)
An Inconvenient Truth (2006)
《难以忽视的真相》
The text is taken from Al Gore’s book Earth in the Balance.
Gore demonstrates that the quality of our air and water is urgently at risk. He clearly illustrates how problems that once were regional have now become global. Gore argues for a worldwide mobilization to save us from disaster.
高级英语第12课修辞ships
【主题】高级英语第12课修辞ships【序号一】高级英语第12课修辞ships在高级英语学习课程中，第12课探讨了修辞ships的使用。
这个主题虽然看似简单，但实际涉及到了丰富的语言运用和文学技巧。
修辞ships是英语修辞学中一个重要的概念，通过对其深入理解，可以更好地提升英语表达能力。
【序号二】什么是修辞ships？我们需要了解什么是修辞ships。
在修辞学中，ships代表着“状态、性质、行为、职业”的意思。
而在英语修辞学中，ships通常添加在名词后，表示某种具有该名词特征或性质的东西。
friendship即为友谊，表示朋友之间的关系；leadership即为领导力，表示领导者的能力。
【序号三】修辞ships的广度和深度接下来，我们要讨论的是修辞ships的广度和深度。
在文章撰写中，使用修辞ships不仅可以使句子更加丰富多彩，而且还能加强语言的表现力。
在描述一个人时，使用“他的领导力”要比“他的领导能力”更具有文学感。
深入探讨修辞ships的使用方法和技巧，对于提升文章的表达能力至关重要。
【序号四】修辞ships的个人理解在我看来，修辞ships是英语中非常具有魅力和韵味的一种修辞手法。
通过灵活运用各种ships，不仅可以使句子更加丰富多彩，还可以增强表达的感染力和说服力。
当我们撰写文章或演讲时，考虑如何运用修辞ships，会使我们的表达更加生动有趣，让读者或听众更容易被打动。
【总结回顾】在高级英语第12课中学习了修辞ships这一重要概念。
通过对修辞ships的全面评估和深入理解，我们能够更好地掌握英语修辞学的精髓，提升自己的语言表达能力。
修辞ships不仅仅是一种修辞手法，更是一种文学技巧，通过不断地练习和应用，我们一定能够在英语写作和口语表达中游刃有余。
希望这篇文章能帮助你更深入地理解高级英语第12课修辞ships，并且提升你的英语表达能力。
加油！高级英语第12课修辞ships是一门非常重要的课程，因为修辞ships不仅仅是英语修辞学的一种概念，更是一种文学技巧，能够帮助我们更好地表达自己的想法和情感。
高级英语第一册讲义12
Lesson 12 The LoonsObjectives of Teaching1) Improving students’ ability to read between lines and understand the text properly;2) Cultivating students’ ability to make a creative reading;3) Enhancing students’ ability to appreciate the text4) Helping students to understanding rhetorical devices;5)Encouraging students to voice their own viewpoint fluently and accurately. Important and difficult points1)understanding the theme of this passage;2)appreciating the writing style.I. Background information about the author:Margaret Laurence is one of the major contemporary Canadian writers. After her marriage, she lived in Africa for a number of years.Her works include A Tree of Poverty(1954), This Side of Jordan(1960), The Tomorrow-Tamer (1963), The Prophet’s Camel Bell(1963), The Stone Angel(1964) and The Fire Dwellers (1969), A Bird in the House (1970), The Diveners (1974).II. Type of writing: short fiction“The Loons” (1970) is included in the Norton Anthology of Short Fiction, 2nd ed., 1981.III. Background of the story:This touching story tells of the plight of a girl from a native Indian family. Her people were marginalized by the white-dominating society. They were unable to exist independently in a respectable and dignified way. They found it impossible to fit into the main currents of culture and difficult to be assimilated comfortably. At school, the girl felt out of place and ill at ease with the white children. When she had grown up she didn’t have any chance to improve her life. In fact her situation became more and more messed up. In the end she was killed in a fire.IV. Detailed study of the text1. shack: a small roughly built house, hut2. dwelling: n (fml) place of residence; house, flat, etcEg: my dwelling in Kaifengdwelling-house(esp. law): house used as a residence, not as a place of work3.belong: to be suitable or advantageous, be in the right placeeg: I don't belong in a big city like this.He doesn't belong in the advanced learners’ class.She refuses to go abroad: She belongs here.4.odd: not regular, occasional, casual, occasional, randomeg: odd jobsHis life was not dull with the odd adventure now and then.5. relief: aid in the form of goods, coupon or money given, as by a government agency,to persons unable to support themselveseg: a relief lawyeron relief: receiving government aid because of poverty, unemployment, etc.6. …with a face that seemed totally unfamiliar with laughter, would knock at the doors of the town’s brick houses…This suggests that the Tonnerres had lived a very miserable life. They had never experienced happiness in their whole life. The “brick houses” indicates the wealthy people’s home.7. flare:1) burn brightly but briefly or unsteadilyEg: The match flared in the darkness.flare up: burn suddenly more intenselyThe fire flared up as I put more logs on it.2) reach a more violent state; suddenly become angryeg:Violence has flared up again.He flares up at the slightest provocation.3) (of an illness)recur, happen againMy back trouble has flared up again.8. dogged: determined; not giving up easilyEg: a dogged defence of the cityAlthough he's less talented, he won by sheer dogged persistence.V. Organization of the storyPart I. (Paras 1-2): Introduction of the novel---the general background.Part II. (Para.3-4) The whole storySection 1. Para.3 (p.206) – Para.6 (p.208) Introducing the heroine Piquette.Section 2. Para.7 (p.208) – Para.2 (p.214) Days together with Piquette at Diamond LakeSection 3. Para.3 (p. 214) – Para.2 (p.217) Second meeting with Piquette several years laterSection 4. Para.3 (p.217) – Para.4 (p.218) Piquette’s deathPart III. (Para. 5 on page 218 – end). AnalogyVI. Rhetorical devices1)Hyperbole…dresses that were always miles too long.…those voices belo nged to a world separated by aeons from our neat world2)Metaphor…the filigree of the spruce treesdaughter of the forestI tried another lineA streak of amber3) PersonificationThe two grey squirrels were still there, gossiping…The news that somehow had not found its way into letters.I tried another linea streak of amber4) Transferred epithetAll around, the spruce trees grew tall and close-set, branches blackly sharp against the sky which was lightened by a cold flickering of stars.I was ashamed, ashamed of my own timidity, the frightened tendency to look the other way.My brother, Roderick, who had not been born when we were here last summer, sat on the car rug in the sunshine and examined a brown spruce core, meticulously turning it round and round in his small and curious hands.5) MetonymyThose voices belonged to a world separated by aeons from our neat world of summer cottages and the lighted lamps of home. (our modern civilization)6) Synecdochethe damn bone’s flared up againVII. The theme of the story:The death of the heroine is like the disappearance of the loons on Diamond Lake. Just as the narrator’s father predicted, the loons would go away when more cottages were built at the Lake with more people moving in. The loons disappeared as nature was ruined by civilization. In a similar way, the girl and her people failed to find their positions in modern society.VIII. Questions for discussion:How is the diasappearance of the loons related to the theme of this story?。
高级英语上册第12课
Why I Write从很小的时候，大概五、六岁，我知道长大以后将成为一个作家。
From a very early age, perhaps the age of five or six, I knew that when I grew up I should be a writer.从17到24岁的这段时间里，我试图打消这个念头，可总觉得这样做是在戕害我的天性，认为我迟早会坐下来伏案著书。
Between the ages of about seventeen and twenty-four I tried to abandon this idea, but I did so with the consciousness that I was outraging my true nature and that sooner or later I should have to settle down and write books.三个孩子中,我是老二。
老大和老三与我相隔五岁。
8岁以前,我很少见到我爸爸。
由于这个以及其他一些缘故,我的性格有些孤僻。
我的举止言谈逐渐变得很不讨人喜欢,这使我在上学期间几乎没有什么朋友。
I was the middle child of three, but there was a gap of five years on either side, and I barely saw my father before I was eight. For this and other reasons I was somewhat lonely, and I soon developed disagreeable mannerisms which made me unpopular throughout my schooldays.我像一般孤僻的孩子一样,喜欢凭空编造各种故事,和想象的人谈话。
高级英语Lesson12TheLoons词汇短语
⾼级英语Lesson12TheLoons词汇短语词汇(Vocabulary)pebble ( n.) : a small stone worn smooth and round，as by the action of water卵⽯；细砾----------------------------------------------------------------------------------scrub (adj. ) :short，stunted矮⼩的；瘦⼩的----------------------------------------------------------------------------------chokecherry ( n.) :a North American wild cherry tree美洲稠李----------------------------------------------------------------------------------thicket ( n.) :a thick growth of shrubs，underbrush or small trees灌⽊丛，植丛----------------------------------------------------------------------------------shack ( n.) :[Am．]a small house or cabin that is crudely built and furnished；shanty[美]简陋的⼩屋；棚屋----------------------------------------------------------------------------------chink ( v．) :close up the chinks in堵塞(裂缝、缝隙)----------------------------------------------------------------------------------thigh ( n.) :part of the leg in man and other vertebrates between the knee and the hip；region of the thighbone，or femur股，⼤腿----------------------------------------------------------------------------------chaos ( n.) :extreme confusion or disorder纷乱，混乱(状态)，⽆秩序----------------------------------------------------------------------------------lean—to ( n.) :a shed with a one—slope roof，the upper end of the rafters resting against an external support，such as trees or the wall of a building 披屋，----------------------------------------------------------------------------------warp ( v.) :bend, curve，or twist out of shape；distort使翘----------------------------------------------------------------------------------strand ( n.) :any of the bundles of thread，fiber，wire，etc．that are twisted together to form a length of string，rope，or cable(线、绳等的)股----------------------------------------------------------------------------------barbed wire ( n.) : [Am.]strands of wire twisted together。
高级英语第一册(修订本)第12课Lesson12-The-Loons原文和翻译
The LoonsMargarel Laurence1、Just below Manawaka, where the Wachakwa River ran brown and noisy over the pebbles , the scrub oak and grey-green willow and chokecherry bushes grew in a dense thicket . In a clearing at the centre of the thicket stood the Tonnerre family's shack. The basis at this dwelling was a small square cabin made of poplar poles and chinked with mud, which had been built by Jules Tonnerre some fifty years before, when he came back from Batoche with a bullet in his thigh, the year that Riel was hung and the voices of the Metis entered their long silence. Jules had only intended to stay the winter in the Wachakwa Valley, but the family was still there in the thirties, when I was a child. As the Tonnerres had increased, their settlement had been added to, until the clearing at the foot of the town hill was a chaos of lean-tos, wooden packing cases, warped lumber, discarded car types, ramshackle chicken coops , tangled strands of barbed wire and rusty tin cans.2、The Tonnerres were French half breeds, and among themselves they spoke a patois that was neither Cree nor French. Their English was broken and full of obscenities. They did not belong among the Cree of the Galloping Mountain reservation, further north, and they did not belong among the Scots-Irish and Ukrainians of Manawaka, either. They were, as my Grandmother MacLeod would have put it, neither flesh, fowl, nor good salt herring . When their men were not working at odd jobs or as section hands on the C.P. R. they lived on relief. In the summers, one of the Tonnerre youngsters, with a face that seemed totally unfamiliar with laughter, would knockat the doors of the town's brick houses and offer for sale a lard -pail full of bruised wild strawberries, and if he got as much as a quarter he would grab the coin and run before the customer had time to change her mind. Sometimes old Jules, or his son Lazarus, would get mixed up in a Saturday-night brawl , and would hit out at whoever was nearest or howl drunkenly among the offended shoppers on Main Street, and then the Mountie would put them for the night in the barred cell underneath the Court House, and the next morning they would be quiet again.3、Piquette Tonnerre, the daughter of Lazarus, was in my class at school. She was older than I, but she had failed several grades, perhaps because her attendance had always been sporadic and her interest in schoolwork negligible . Part of the reason she had missed a lot of school was that she had had tuberculosis of the bone, and had once spent many months in hospital. I knew this because my father was the doctor who had looked after her. Her sickness was almost the only thing I knew about her, however. Otherwise, she existed for me only as a vaguely embarrassing presence, with her hoarse voice and her clumsy limping walk and her grimy cotton dresses that were always miles too long. I was neither friendly nor unfriendly towards her. She dwelt and moved somewhere within my scope of vision, but I did not actually notice her very much until that peculiar summer when I was eleven.4、"I don't know what to do about that kid." my father said at dinner one evening. "Piquette Tonnerre, I mean. The damn bone's flared up again. I've had her in hospitalfor quite a while now, and it's under control all right, but I hate like the dickens to send her home again."5、"Couldn't you explain to her mother that she has to rest a lot?" my mother said.6、"The mother's not there" my father replied. "She took off a few years back. Can't say I blame her. Piquette cooks for them, and she says Lazarus would never do anything for himself as long as she's there. Anyway, I don't think she'd take much care of herself, once she got back. She's only thirteen, after all. Beth, I was thinking—What about taking her up to Diamond Lake with us this summer? A couple of months rest would give that bone a much better chance."7、My mother looked stunned.8、"But Ewen -- what about Roddie and Vanessa?"9、"She's not contagious ," my father said. "And it would be company for Vanessa."10、"Oh dear," my mother said in distress, "I'll bet anything she has nits in her hair."11、"For Pete's sake," my father said crossly, "do you think Matron would let her stay in the hospital for all this time like that? Don't be silly, Beth. "12、Grandmother MacLeod, her delicately featured face as rigid as a cameo , now brought her mauve -veined hands together as though she were about to begin prayer.13、"Ewen, if that half breed youngster comes along to Diamond Lake, I'm not going," she announced. "I'll go to Morag's for the summer."14、I had trouble in stifling my urge to laugh, for my mother brightened visibly and quickly tried to hide it. If it came to a choice between Grandmother MacLeod and Piquette, Piquette would win hands down, nits or not.15、"It might be quite nice for you, at that," she mused. "You haven't seen Morag for over a year, and you might enjoy being in the city for a while. Well, Ewen dear, you do what you think best. If you think it would do Piquette some good, then we' II be glad to have her, as long as she behaves herself."16、So it happened that several weeks later, when we all piled into my father's old Nash, surrounded by suitcases and boxes of provisions and toys for myten-month-old brother, Piquette was with us and Grandmother MacLeod, miraculously, was not. My father would only be staying at the cottage for a couple of weeks, for he had to get back to his practice, but the rest of us would stay at Diamond Lake until the end of August.17、Our cottage was not named, as many were, "Dew Drop Inn" or "Bide-a-Wee," or "Bonnie Doon”. The sign on the roadway bore in austere letters only our name, MacLeod. It was not a large cottage, but it was on the lakefront. You could lookout the windows and see, through the filigree of the spruce trees, the water glistening greenly as the sun caught it. All around the cottage were ferns, and sharp-branched raspberrybushes, and moss that had grown over fallen tree trunks, If you looked carefully among the weeds and grass, you could find wild strawberry plants which were in white flower now and in another month would bear fruit, the fragrant globes hanging like miniaturescarlet lanterns on the thin hairy stems. The two grey squirrels were still there, gossiping at us from the tall spruce beside the cottage, and by the end of the summer they would again be tame enough to take pieces of crust from my hands. The broad mooseantlers that hung above the back door were a little more bleached and fissured after the winter, but otherwise everything was the same. I raced joyfully around my kingdom, greeting all the places I had not seen for a year. My brother, Roderick, who had not been born when we were here last summer, sat on the car rug in the sunshine and examined a brown spruce cone, meticulously turning it round and round in his small and curious hands. My mother and father toted the luggage from car to cottage, exclaiming over how well the place had wintered, no broken windows, thank goodness, no apparent damage from storm felled branches or snow.18、Only after I had finished looking around did I notice Piquette. She was sitting on the swing her lame leg held stiffly out, and her other foot scuffing the ground as she swung slowly back and forth. Her long hair hung black and straight around her shoulders, and her broad coarse-featured face bore no expression -- itwas blank, as though she no longer dwelt within her own skull, as though she had gone elsewhere.I approached her very hesitantly.19、"Want to come and play?"20、Piquette looked at me with a sudden flash of scorn.21、"I ain't a kid," she said.22、Wounded, I stamped angrily away, swearing I would not speak to her for the rest of the summer. In the days that followed, however, Piquette began to interest me, and l began to want to interest her. My reasons did not appear bizarre to me. Unlikely as it may seem, I had only just realised that the Tonnerre family, whom I had always heard Called half breeds, were actually Indians, or as near as made no difference. My acquaintance with Indians was not expensive. I did not remember ever having seen a real Indian, and my new awareness that Piquette sprang from the people of Big Bear and Poundmaker, of Tecumseh, of the Iroquois who had eaten Father Brébeuf's heart--all this gave her an instant attraction in my eyes. I was devoted reader of Pauline Johnson at this age, and sometimes would orate aloud and in an exalted voice, West Wind, blow from your prairie nest, Blow from the mountains, blow from the west--and so on. It seemed to me that Piquette must be in some way a daughter of the forest, a kind of junior prophetess of the wilds, who might impart to me, if I took the right approach, some of the secrets which she undoubtedly knew --wherethe whippoorwill made her nest, how the coyote reared her young, or whatever it was that it said in Hiawatha.23、I set about gaining Piquette's trust. She was not allowed to go swimming, with her bad leg, but I managed to lure her down to the beach-- or rather, she came because there was nothing else to do. The water was always icy, for the lake was fed by springs, but I swam like a dog, thrashing my arms and legs around at such speed and with such an output of energy that I never grew cold. Finally, when I had enough, I came out and sat beside Piquette on the sand. When she saw me approaching, her hands squashed flat the sand castle she had been building, and she looked at me sullenly, without speaking.24、"Do you like this place?" I asked, after a while, intending to lead on from there into the question of forest lore .25、Piquette shrugged. "It's okay. Good as anywhere."26、"I love it, "1 said. "We come here every summer."27、"So what?" Her voice was distant, and I glanced at her uncertainly, wondering what I could have said wrong.28、"Do you want to come for a walk?" I asked her. "We wouldn't need to go far. If you walk just around the point there, you come to a bay where great big reeds grow in the water, and all kinds of fish hang around there. Want to? Come on."29、She shook her head.30、"Your dad said I ain't supposed to do no more walking than I got to." I tried another line.31、"I bet you know a lot about the woods and all that, eh?" I began respectfully.32、Piquette looked at me from her large dark unsmiling eyes.33、"I don't know what in hell you're talkin' about," she replied. "You nuts or somethin'? If you mean where my old man, and me, and all them live, you better shut up, by Jesus, you hear?"34、I was startled and my feelings were hurt, but I had a kind of dogged perseverance. I ignored her rebuff.35、"You know something, Piquette? There's loons here, on this lake. You can see their nests just up the shore there, behind those logs. At night, you can hear them even from the cottage, but it's better to listen from the beach. My dad says we should listen and try to remember how they sound, because in a few years when more cottages are built at Diamond Lake and more people come in, the loons will go away."36、Piquette was picking up stones and snail shells and then dropping them again.37、"Who gives a good goddamn?" she said.38、It became increasingly obvious that, as an Indian, Piquette was a dead loss. That evening I went out by myself, scrambling through the bushes that overhung the steep path, my feet slipping on the fallen spruce needles that covered the ground. When I reached the shore, I walked along the firm damp sand to the small pier that my father had built, and sat down there. I heard someone else crashing through the undergrowth and the bracken, and for a moment I thought Piquette had changed her mind, but it turned out to be my father. He sat beside me on the pier and we waited, without speaking.38、At night the lake was like black glass with a streak of amber which was the path of the moon. All around, the spruce trees grew tall and close-set, branches blackly sharp against the sky, which was lightened by a cold flickering of stars. Then the loons began their calling. They rose like phantom birds from the nests on the shore, and flew out onto the dark still surface of the water.40、No one can ever describe that ululating sound, the crying of the loons, and no one who has heard it can ever forget it. Plaintive , and yet with a quality of chilling mockery , those voices belonged to a world separated by aeon from our neat world of summer cottages and the lighted lamps of home.41、"They must have sounded just like that," my father remarked, "before any person ever set foot here." Then he laughed. "You could say the same, of course, about sparrows or chipmunk, but somehow it only strikes you that way with the loons."42、"I know," I said.43、Neither of us suspected that this would be the last time we would ever sit here together on the shore, listening. We stayed for perhaps half an hour, and then we went back to the cottage. My mother was reading beside the fireplace. Piquette was looking at the burning birch log, and not doing anything.44、"You should have come along," I said, although in fact I was glad she had not.45、"Not me", Piquette said. "You wouldn’ catch me walkin' way down there jus' for a bunch of squawkin' birds."46、Piquette and I remained ill at ease with one another. felt I had somehow failed my father, but I did not know what was the matter, nor why she Would not or could not respond when I suggested exploring the woods or Playing house. I thought it was probably her slow and difficult walking that held her back. She stayed most of the time in the cottage with my mother, helping her with the dishes or with Roddie, but hardly ever talking. Then the Duncans arrived at their cottage, and I spent my days with Mavis, who was my best friend. I could not reach Piquette at all, and I soon lost interest in trying. But all that summer she remained as both a reproach and a mystery to me.47、That winter my father died of pneumonia, after less than a week's illness. For some time I saw nothing around me, being completely immersed in my own pain andmy mother's. When I looked outward once more, I scarcely noticed that Piquette Tonnerre was no longer at school. I do not remember seeing her at all until four years later, one Saturday night when Mavis and I were having Cokes in the Regal Café. The jukebox was booming like tuneful thunder, and beside it, leaning lightly on its chrome and its rainbow glass, was a girl.48、Piquette must have been seventeen then, although she looked about twenty.I stared at her, astounded that anyone could have changed so much. Her face, so stolidand expressionless before, was animated now with a gaiety that was almost violent. She laughed and talked very loudly with the boys around her. Her lipstick was bright carmine, and her hair was cut Short and frizzily permed . She had not been pretty as a child, and she was not pretty now, for her features were still heavy and blunt. But her dark and slightly slanted eyes were beautiful, and her skin-tight skirt and orange sweater displayed to enviable advantage a soft and slender body.49、She saw me, and walked over. She teetered a little, but it was not due to her once-tubercular leg, for her limp was almost gone.50、"Hi, Vanessa," Her voice still had the same hoarseness . "Long time no see, eh?"51、"Hi," I said "Where've you been keeping yourself, Piquette?"52、"Oh, I been around," she said. "I been away almost two years now. Been all over the place--Winnipeg, Regina, Saskatoon. Jesus, what I could tell you! I come back this summer, but I ain't stayin'. You kids go in to the dance?"53、"No," I said abruptly, for this was a sore point with me. I was fifteen, and thought I was old enough to go to the Saturday-night dances at the Flamingo. My mother, however, thought otherwise.54、"Y'oughta come," Piquette said. "I never miss one. It's just about the on'y thing in this jerkwater55、town that's any fun. Boy, you couldn' catch me stayin' here. I don' givea shit about this place. It stinks."56、She sat down beside me, and I caught the harsh over-sweetness of her perfume.57、"Listen, you wanna know something, Vanessa?" she confided , her voice only slightly blurred. "Your dad was the only person in Manawaka that ever done anything good to me."58、I nodded speechlessly. I was certain she was speaking the truth. I knew a little more than I had that summer at Diamond Lake, but I could not reach her now any more than I had then, I was ashamed, ashamed of my own timidity, the frightened tendency to look the other way. Yet I felt no real warmth towards her-- I only felt that I ought to, because of that distant summer and because my father had hoped shewould be company for me, or perhaps that I would be for her, but it had not happened that way. At this moment, meeting her again, I had to admit that she repelled and embarrassed me, and I could not help despising the self-pity in her voice. I wished she would go away. I did not want to see her did not know what to say to her. It seemed that we had nothing to say to one another.59、"I'll tell you something else," Piquette went on. "All the old bitches an' biddies in this town will sure be surprised. I'm gettin' married this fall -- my boy friend, he's an English fella, works in the stockyards in the city there, a very tall guy, got blond wavy hair. Gee, is he ever handsome. Got this real Hiroshima name. Alvin Gerald Cummings--some handle, eh? They call him Al."60、For the merest instant, then I saw her. I really did see her, for the first and only time in all the years we had both lived in the same town. Her defiant face, momentarily, became unguarded and unmasked, and in her eyes there was a terrifying hope.61、"Gee, Piquette --" I burst out awkwardly, "that's swell. That's really wonderful. Congratulations—good luck--I hope you'll be happy--"62、As l mouthed the conventional phrases, I could only guess how great her need must have been, that she had been forced to seek the very things she so bitterly rejected.63、When I was eighteen, I left Manawaka and went away to college. At the end of my first year, I came back home for the summer. I spent the first few days in talking non-stop with my mother, as we exchanged all the news that somehow had not found its way into letters-- what had happened in my life and what had happened here in Manawaka while I was away. My mother searched her memory for events that concerned people I knew.64、"Did I ever write you about Piquette Tonnerre, Vanessa?" she asked one morning.65、"No, I don't think so," I replied. "Last I heard of her, she was going to marry some guy in the city. Is she still there?"66、My mother looked Hiroshima , and it was a moment before she spoke, as though she did not know how to express what she had to tell and wished she did not need to try.67、"She's dead," she said at last. Then, as I stared at her, "Oh, Vanessa, when it happened, I couldn't help thinking of her as she was that summer--so sullen and gauche and badly dressed. I couldn't help wondering if we could have done something more at that time--but what could we do? She used to be around in the cottage there with me all day, and honestly it was all I could do to get a word out of her. She didn't even talk to your father very much, although I think she liked him in her way."68、"What happened?" I asked.69、"Either her husband left her, or she left him," my mother said. "I don't know which. Anyway, she came back here with two youngsters, both only babies--they must have been born very close together. She kept house, I guess, for Lazarus and her brothers, down in the valley there, in the old Tonnerre place. I used to see her on the street sometimes, but she never spoke to me. She'd put on an awful lot of weight, and she looked a mess, to tell you the truth, a real slattern , dressed any old how. She was up in court a couple of times--drunk and disorderly, of course. One Saturday night last winter, during the coldest weather, Piquette was alone in the shack with the children. The Tonnerres made home brew all the time, so I've heard, and Lazarus said later she'd been drinking most of the day when he and the boys went out that evening. They had an old woodstove there--you know the kind, with exposed pipes. The shack caught fire. Piquette didn't get out, and neither did the children."70、I did not say anything. As so often with Piquette, there did not seem to be anything to say. There was a kind of silence around the image in my mind of the fire and the snow, and I wished I could put from my memory the look that I had seen once in Piquette's eyes.71、I went up to Diamond Lake for a few days that summer, with Mavis and her family. The MacLeod cottage had been sold after my father's death, and I did not even go to look at it, not wanting to witness my long-ago kingdom possessed now by strangers. But one evening I went clown to the shore by myself.72、The small pier which my father had built was gone, and in its place there was a large and solid pier built by the government, for Galloping Mountain was now a national park, and Diamond Lake had been re-named Lake Wapakata, for it was felt that an Indian name would have a greater appeal to tourists. The one store had become several dozen, and the settlement had all the attributes of a flourishingresort--hotels, a dance-hall, cafes with neon signs, the penetrating odoursof potato chips and hot dogs.73、I sat on the government pier and looked out across the water. At night the lake at least was the same as it had always been, darkly shining and bearing within its black glass the streak of amber that was the path of the moon. There was no wind that evening, and everything was quiet all around me. It seemed too quiet, and then I realized that the loons were no longer here. I listened for some time, to make sure, but never once did I hear that long-drawn call, half mocking and half plaintive, spearing through the stillness across the lake.74、I did not know what had happened to the birds. Perhaps they had gone away to some far place of belonging. Perhaps they had been unable to find such a place, and had simply died out, having ceased to care any longer whether they lived or not.75、I remembered how Piquette had scorned to come along, when my father and I sat there and listened to the lake birds. It seemed to me now that in some unconscious and totally unrecognized way, Piquette might have been the only one, after all, who had heard the crying of the loons.第十二课潜水鸟玛格丽特劳伦斯马纳瓦卡山下有一条小河，叫瓦恰科瓦河，浑浊的河水沿着布满鹅卵石的河床哗哗地流淌着，河边谷地上长着无数的矮橡树、灰绿色柳树和野樱桃树，形成一片茂密的丛林。
高级英语第一册(修订本)第12课Lesson12 The Loons原文和翻译
The LoonsMargarel Laurence1、Just below Manawaka, where the Wachakwa River ran brown and noisy over the pebbles , the scrub oak and grey-green willow and chokecherry bushes grew in a dense thicket . In a clearing at the centre of the thicket stood the Tonnerre family's shack. The basis at this dwelling was a small square cabin made of poplar poles and chinked with mud, which had been built by Jules Tonnerre some fifty years before, when he came back from Batoche with a bullet in his thigh, the year that Riel was hung and the voices of the Metis entered their long silence. Jules had only intended to stay the winter in the Wachakwa Valley, but the family was still there in the thirties, when I was a child. As the Tonnerres had increased, their settlement had been added to, until the clearing at the foot of the town hill was a chaos of lean-tos, wooden packing cases, warped lumber, discarded car types, ramshackle chicken coops , tangled strands of barbed wire and rusty tin cans.2、The Tonnerres were French half breeds, and among themselves they spoke a patois that was neither Cree nor French. Their English was broken and full of obscenities. They did not belong among the Cree of the Galloping Mountain reservation, further north, and they did not belong among theScots-Irish and Ukrainians of Manawaka, either. They were, as my Grandmother MacLeod would have put it, neither flesh, fowl, nor good salt herring . When their men were not working at odd jobs or as section hands onthe C.P. R. they lived on relief. In the summers, one of the Tonnerre youngsters, with a face that seemed totally unfamiliar with laughter, would knock at the doors of the town's brick houses and offer for sale a lard -pail full of bruised wild strawberries, and if he got as much as a quarter he would grab the coin and run before the customer had time to change her mind. Sometimes old Jules, or his son Lazarus, would get mixed up in a Saturday-night brawl , and would hit out at whoever was nearest or howl drunkenly among the offended shoppers on Main Street, and then the Mountie would put them for the night in the barred cell underneath the Court House, and the next morning they would be quiet again.3、Piquette Tonnerre, the daughter of Lazarus, was in my class at school. She was older than I, but she had failed several grades, perhaps because her attendance had always been sporadic and her interest in schoolwork negligible . Part of the reason she had missed a lot of school was that she had had tuberculosis of the bone, and had once spent many months in hospital. I knew this because my father was the doctor who had looked after her. Her sickness was almost the only thing I knew about her, however. Otherwise, she existed for me only as a vaguely embarrassing presence, with her hoarse voice and her clumsy limping walk and her grimy cotton dresses that were always miles too long. I was neither friendly nor unfriendly towards her. She dwelt and moved somewhere within my scope of vision, but I did not actually notice her very much until that peculiar summer when I was eleven.4、"I don't know what to do about that kid." my father said at dinner one evening. "Piquette Tonnerre, I mean. The damn bone's flared up again. I've had her in hospital for quite a while now, and it's under control all right, but I hate like the dickens to send her home again."5、"Couldn't you explain to her mother that she has to rest a lot?" my mother said.6、"The mother's not there" my father replied. "She took off a few years back. Can't say I blame her. Piquette cooks for them, and she says Lazarus would never do anything for himself as long as she's there. Anyway, I don't think she'd take much care of herself, once she got back. She's only thirteen, after all. Beth, I was thinking—What about taking her up to Diamond Lake with us this summer?A couple of months rest would give that bone a much better chance."7、My mother looked stunned.8、"But Ewen -- what about Roddie and Vanessa?"9、"She's not contagious ," my father said. "And it would be company for Vanessa."10、"Oh dear," my mother said in distress, "I'll bet anything she has nits in her hair."11、"For Pete's sake," my father said crossly, "do you think Matron would let her stay in the hospital for all this time like that? Don't be silly, Beth. "12、Grandmother MacLeod, her delicately featured face as rigid as a cameo , now brought her mauve -veined hands together as though she were about to begin prayer.13、"Ewen, if that half breed youngster comes along to Diamond Lake, I'm not going," she announced. "I'll go to Morag's for the summer."14、I had trouble in stifling my urge to laugh, for my mother brightened visibly and quickly tried to hide it. If it came to a choice between Grandmother MacLeod and Piquette, Piquette would win hands down, nits or not.15、"It might be quite nice for you, at that," she mused. "You haven't seen Morag for over a year, and you might enjoy being in the city for a while. Well, Ewen dear, you do what you think best. If you think it would do Piquette some good, then we' II be glad to have her, as long as she behaves herself."16、So it happened that several weeks later, when we all piled into my father's old Nash, surrounded by suitcases and boxes of provisions and toys for my ten-month-old brother, Piquette was with us and Grandmother MacLeod, miraculously, was not. My father would only be staying at the cottage for a couple of weeks, for he had to get back to his practice, but the rest of us would stay at Diamond Lake until the end of August.17、Our cottage was not named, as many were, "Dew Drop Inn" or "Bide-a-Wee," or "Bonnie Doon”. The sign on the roadway bore in austere letters only our name, MacLeod. It was not a large cottage, but it was on the lakefront. You could look out the windows and see, through the filigree of the spruce trees, the water glistening greenly as the sun caught it. All around the cottage were ferns, and sharp-branched raspberrybushes, and moss that had grown over fallen tree trunks, If you looked carefully among the weeds and grass, you could find wild strawberry plants which were in white flower now and in another month would bear fruit, the fragrant globes hanging like miniaturescarlet lanterns on the thin hairy stems. The two grey squirrels were still there, gossiping at us from the tall spruce beside the cottage, and by the end of the summer they would again be tame enough to take pieces of crust from my hands. The broad mooseantlers that hung above the back door were a little more bleached and fissured after the winter, but otherwise everything was the same. I raced joyfully around my kingdom, greeting all the places I had not seen for a year. My brother, Roderick, who had not been born when we were here last summer, sat on the car rug in the sunshine and examined a brown spruce cone, meticulously turning it round and round in his small and curious hands. My mother and father toted the luggage from car to cottage, exclaiming over how well the place had wintered, no broken windows, thank goodness, no apparent damage from storm felled branches or snow.18、Only after I had finished looking around did I notice Piquette. She was sitting on the swing her lame leg held stiffly out, and her other foot scuffing the ground as she swung slowly back and forth. Her long hair hung black and straight around her shoulders, and her broad coarse-featured face bore no expression -- it was blank, as though she no longer dwelt within her own skull, as though she had gone elsewhere.I approached her very hesitantly.19、"Want to come and play?"20、Piquette looked at me with a sudden flash of scorn.21、"I ain't a kid," she said.22、Wounded, I stamped angrily away, swearing I would not speak to her for the rest of the summer. In the days that followed, however, Piquette began to interest me, and l began to want to interest her. My reasons did not appear bizarre to me. Unlikely as it may seem, I had only just realised that the Tonnerre family, whom I had always heard Called half breeds, were actually Indians, or as near as made no difference. My acquaintance with Indians was not expensive. I did not remember ever having seen a real Indian, and my new awareness that Piquette sprang from the people of Big Bear and Poundmaker, of Tecumseh, of the Iroquois who had eaten Father Brébeuf's heart--all this gave her an instant attraction in my eyes. I was devoted reader of Pauline Johnson at this age, and sometimes would orate aloud and in an exalted voice, West Wind, blow fromyour prairie nest, Blow from the mountains, blow from the west--and so on. It seemed to me that Piquette must be in some way a daughter of the forest, a kind of junior prophetess of the wilds, who might impart to me, if I took the right approach, some of the secrets which she undoubtedly knew --where the whippoorwill made her nest, how the coyote reared her young, or whatever it was that it said in Hiawatha.23、I set about gaining Piquette's trust. She was not allowed to go swimming, with her bad leg, but I managed to lure her down to the beach-- or rather, she came because there was nothing else to do. The water was always icy, for the lake was fed by springs, but I swam like a dog, thrashing my arms and legs around at such speed and with such an output of energy that I never grew cold. Finally, when I had enough, I came out and sat beside Piquette on the sand. When she saw me approaching, her hands squashed flat the sand castle she had been building, and she looked at me sullenly, without speaking.24、"Do you like this place?" I asked, after a while, intending to lead on from there into the question of forest lore .25、Piquette shrugged. "It's okay. Good as anywhere."26、"I love it, "1 said. "We come here every summer."27、"So what?" Her voice was distant, and I glanced at her uncertainly, wondering what I could have said wrong.28、"Do you want to come for a walk?" I asked her. "We wouldn't need to go far. If you walk just around the point there, you come to a bay where great big reeds grow in the water, and all kinds of fish hang around there. Want to? Come on."29、She shook her head.30、"Your dad said I ain't supposed to do no more walking than I got to." I tried another line.31、"I bet you know a lot about the woods and all that, eh?" I began respectfully.32、Piquette looked at me from her large dark unsmiling eyes.33、"I don't know what in hell you're talkin' about," she replied. "You nuts or somethin'? If you mean where my old man, and me, and all them live, you better shut up, by Jesus, you hear?"34、I was startled and my feelings were hurt, but I had a kind of dogged perseverance. I ignored her rebuff.35、"You know something, Piquette? There's loons here, on this lake. You can see their nests just up the shore there, behind those logs. At night, you can hear them even from the cottage, but it's better to listen from the beach. My dad says we should listen and try to remember how they sound, because in a fewyears when more cottages are built at Diamond Lake and more people come in, the loons will go away."36、Piquette was picking up stones and snail shells and then dropping them again.37、"Who gives a good goddamn?" she said.38、It became increasingly obvious that, as an Indian, Piquette was a dead loss. That evening I went out by myself, scrambling through the bushes that overhung the steep path, my feet slipping on the fallen spruce needles that covered the ground. When I reached the shore, I walked along the firm damp sand to the small pier that my father had built, and sat down there. I heard someone else crashing through the undergrowth and the bracken, and for a moment I thought Piquette had changed her mind, but it turned out to be my father. He sat beside me on the pier and we waited, without speaking.38、At night the lake was like black glass with a streak of amber which was the path of the moon. All around, the spruce trees grew tall and close-set, branches blackly sharp against the sky, which was lightened by a cold flickering of stars. Then the loons began their calling. They rose like phantom birds from the nests on the shore, and flew out onto the dark still surface of the water.40、No one can ever describe that ululating sound, the crying of the loons, and no one who has heard it can ever forget it. Plaintive , and yet with a qualityof chilling mockery , those voices belonged to a world separated by aeon from our neat world of summer cottages and the lighted lamps of home.41、"They must have sounded just like that," my father remarked, "before any person ever set foot here." Then he laughed. "You could say the same, of course, about sparrows or chipmunk, but somehow it only strikes you that way with the loons."42、"I know," I said.43、Neither of us suspected that this would be the last time we would ever sit here together on the shore, listening. We stayed for perhaps half an hour, and then we went back to the cottage. My mother was reading beside the fireplace. Piquette was looking at the burning birch log, and not doing anything.44、"You should have come along," I said, although in fact I was glad she had not.45、"Not me", Piquette said. "You wouldn’ catch me walkin' way down there jus' for a bunch of squawkin' birds."46、Piquette and I remained ill at ease with one another. felt I had somehow failed my father, but I did not know what was the matter, nor why she Would not or could not respond when I suggested exploring the woods or Playing house. I thought it was probably her slow and difficult walking that held her back. Shestayed most of the time in the cottage with my mother, helping her with the dishes or with Roddie, but hardly ever talking. Then the Duncans arrived at their cottage, and I spent my days with Mavis, who was my best friend. I could not reach Piquette at all, and I soon lost interest in trying. But all that summer she remained as both a reproach and a mystery to me.47、That winter my father died of pneumonia, after less than a week's illness. For some time I saw nothing around me, being completely immersed in my own pain and my mother's. When I looked outward once more, I scarcely noticed that Piquette Tonnerre was no longer at school. I do not remember seeing her at all until four years later, one Saturday night when Mavis and I were having Cokes in the Regal Café. The jukebox was booming like tuneful thunder, and beside it, leaning lightly on its chrome and its rainbow glass, was a girl.48、Piquette must have been seventeen then, although she looked about twenty. I stared at her, astounded that anyone could have changed so much. Her face, so stolidand expressionless before, was animated now with a gaiety that was almost violent. She laughed and talked very loudly with the boys around her. Her lipstick was bright carmine, and her hair was cut Short and frizzily permed . She had not been pretty as a child, and she was not pretty now, for her features were still heavy and blunt. But her dark and slightly slanted eyes were beautiful, and her skin-tight skirt and orange sweater displayed to enviable advantage a soft and slender body.49、She saw me, and walked over. She teetered a little, but it was not due to her once-tubercular leg, for her limp was almost gone.50、"Hi, Vanessa," Her voice still had the same hoarseness . "Long time no see, eh?"51、"Hi," I said "Where've you been keeping yourself, Piquette?"52、"Oh, I been around," she said. "I been away almost two years now. Been all over the place--Winnipeg, Regina, Saskatoon. Jesus, what I could tell you! I come back this summer, but I ain't stayin'. You kids go in to the dance?"53、"No," I said abruptly, for this was a sore point with me. I was fifteen, and thought I was old enough to go to the Saturday-night dances at the Flamingo. My mother, however, thought otherwise.54、"Y'oughta come," Piquette said. "I never miss one. It's just about the on'y thing in this jerkwater55、town that's any fun. Boy, you couldn' catch me stayin' here. I don' givea shit about this place. It stinks."56、She sat down beside me, and I caught the harsh over-sweetness of her perfume.57、"Listen, you wanna know something, Vanessa?" she confided , her voice only slightly blurred. "Your dad was the only person in Manawaka that ever done anything good to me."58、I nodded speechlessly. I was certain she was speaking the truth. I knewa little more than I had that summer at Diamond Lake, but I could not reach her now any more than I had then, I was ashamed, ashamed of my own timidity, the frightened tendency to look the other way. Yet I felt no real warmth towards her-- I only felt that I ought to, because of that distant summer and because my father had hoped she would be company for me, or perhaps that I would be for her, but it had not happened that way. At this moment, meeting her again, I had to admit that she repelled and embarrassed me, and I could not help despising the self-pity in her voice. I wished she would go away. I did not want to see her did not know what to say to her. It seemed that we had nothing to say to one another.59、"I'll tell you something else," Piquette went on. "All the old bitches an' biddies in this town will sure be surprised. I'm gettin' married this fall -- my boy friend, he's an English fella, works in the stockyards in the city there, a very tall guy, got blond wavy hair. Gee, is he ever handsome. Got this real Hiroshima name. Alvin Gerald Cummings--some handle, eh? They call him Al."60、For the merest instant, then I saw her. I really did see her, for the first and only time in all the years we had both lived in the same town. Her defiantface, momentarily, became unguarded and unmasked, and in her eyes there was a terrifying hope.61、"Gee, Piquette --" I burst out awkwardly, "that's swell. That's really wonderful. Congratulations—good luck--I hope you'll be happy--"62、As l mouthed the conventional phrases, I could only guess how great her need must have been, that she had been forced to seek the very things she so bitterly rejected.63、When I was eighteen, I left Manawaka and went away to college. At the end of my first year, I came back home for the summer. I spent the first few days in talking non-stop with my mother, as we exchanged all the news that somehow had not found its way into letters-- what had happened in my life and what had happened here in Manawaka while I was away. My mother searched her memory for events that concerned people I knew.64、"Did I ever write you about Piquette Tonnerre, Vanessa?" she asked one morning.65、"No, I don't think so," I replied. "Last I heard of her, she was going to marry some guy in the city. Is she still there?"66、My mother looked Hiroshima , and it was a moment before she spoke, as though she did not know how to express what she had to tell and wished she did not need to try.67、"She's dead," she said at last. Then, as I stared at her, "Oh, Vanessa, when it happened, I couldn't help thinking of her as she was that summer--so sullen and gauche and badly dressed. I couldn't help wondering if we could have done something more at that time--but what could we do? She used to be around in the cottage there with me all day, and honestly it was all I could do to get a word out of her. She didn't even talk to your father very much, althoughI think she liked him in her way."68、"What happened?" I asked.69、"Either her husband left her, or she left him," my mother said. "I don't know which. Anyway, she came back here with two youngsters, both only babies--they must have been born very close together. She kept house, I guess, for Lazarus and her brothers, down in the valley there, in the old Tonnerre place.I used to see her on the street sometimes, but she never spoke to me. She'd put on an awful lot of weight, and she looked a mess, to tell you the truth, a real slattern , dressed any old how. She was up in court a couple of times--drunk and disorderly, of course. One Saturday night last winter, during the coldest weather, Piquette was alone in the shack with the children. The Tonnerres made home brew all the time, so I've heard, and Lazarus said later she'd beendrinking most of the day when he and the boys went out that evening. They had an old woodstove there--you know the kind, with exposed pipes. The shack caught fire. Piquette didn't get out, and neither did the children."70、I did not say anything. As so often with Piquette, there did not seem to be anything to say. There was a kind of silence around the image in my mind of the fire and the snow, and I wished I could put from my memory the look thatI had seen once in Piquette's eyes.71、I went up to Diamond Lake for a few days that summer, with Mavis and her family. The MacLeod cottage had been sold after my father's death, and I did not even go to look at it, not wanting to witness my long-ago kingdom possessed now by strangers. But one evening I went clown to the shore by myself.72、The small pier which my father had built was gone, and in its place there was a large and solid pier built by the government, for Galloping Mountain was now a national park, and Diamond Lake had been re-named Lake Wapakata, for it was felt that an Indian name would have a greater appeal to tourists. The one store had become several dozen, and the settlement had all the attributes of a flourishing resort--hotels, a dance-hall, cafes with neon signs, the penetrating odoursof potato chips and hot dogs.73、I sat on the government pier and looked out across the water. At night the lake at least was the same as it had always been, darkly shining and bearing within its black glass the streak of amber that was the path of the moon. There was no wind that evening, and everything was quiet all around me. It seemed too quiet, and then I realized that the loons were no longer here. I listened for some time, to make sure, but never once did I hear that long-drawn call, half mocking and half plaintive, spearing through the stillness across the lake.74、I did not know what had happened to the birds. Perhaps they had gone away to some far place of belonging. Perhaps they had been unable to find such a place, and had simply died out, having ceased to care any longer whether they lived or not.75、I remembered how Piquette had scorned to come along, when my father and I sat there and listened to the lake birds. It seemed to me now that in some unconscious and totally unrecognized way, Piquette might have been the only one, after all, who had heard the crying of the loons.第十二课潜水鸟玛格丽特劳伦斯马纳瓦卡山下有一条小河，叫瓦恰科瓦河，浑浊的河水沿着布满鹅卵石的河床哗哗地流淌着，河边谷地上长着无数的矮橡树、灰绿色柳树和野樱桃树，形成一片茂密的丛林。
高级英语第一册Lesson12
Vanessa, the daughter of Ewen, didn’t have a good time with Piquette. Piquette was cold and locked herself in her own world, not allowing a second person to join in.
Four years later, she was a charming young lady.
In the café, she was totally a different person. Seventeen as
she was, she looked like twenty. She was mature. She was animated. She was beautiful. Unusual ,crazy and fashion with her hair cutting short and permed. One thing she got extremely proud of was that she has been engaged with a white young man. She thought he was handsome.
She changed lot, expressed her gratitude to my father and revealed strong eager for happiness.
Several years later, Piquette died
It She once had a shortened marriageher back again. She was was her tragic destiny that brought before her death. The totally despaired. Without proud of turnedbecame the misfortune. marriage once she took any hope, she out to be a Piquette of 13-year-old again, cold, indifferent and dirty. She gave birth The white young man left her behind soon after they got to a pair ofShe returned to her fathers in the mountain married. two children, which means two more children will suffer a world without sympathy and fairness. to get rid of. Manawaka where she once tried all her efforts
lesson12高级英语ShipsintheDesert省名师优质课赛课获奖课件市赛课一等奖课件
LANGUAGE POINTS – PARA. 1
look out:
1.当心 2. 朝…外看
3. He looked out some detective story books for his friend.
他为朋友挑选了几本侦探小说。
4. My window looks out into a street.
She's lapping up all the attention she's getting. 2) 舔食； The cat began to lap up the milk.
prospect: → prospect of doing sth. Eg: I see no prospect of things improving here. → be excited/alarmed/concerned etc. at
the prospect (of sth) Eg: She wasn't exactly overjoyed at the
one place We anchored off the coast of Spain.
我们在西班牙沿海抛锚停泊。
2) to fasten something firmly so that it cannot move 把… 系住；使稳住；使固定
The shelves should be securely anchored to the wall.
But as I looked out over the bow, I could see there was no chance for catching any fish.
This is obviously an understatement because with sand all around there was no chance of catching fish, to say nothing of catching a lot of fish.
自考高级英语上册Lesson 12 why I write
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Mix up
• Mix thoroughly完全混合 • She mixed up salt with sugar when she
cooked. • You can’t mix up oil with water.
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facility
• ability to perform something easily • 灵巧，便利，熟练。 • 如: He translated sth with great facility. • 他翻译时驾轻就熟。 • He showed facility in painting. • 他在画画方面显得很熟练。 • Cf. faculty • n. 能力，技能；系，学科，学院；全体教员
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Put aside
• Lay down, ignore放在一边；不顾 • Putting aside the salary, he found
the job challenging.抛开工资，他觉得 那份工作很有挑战性。 • Let’s put aside the fact that he has done something wrong before.先别管他 以前做过的错事。
value of … 评估……的重要性/价值; • assess the situation 审时度势。 • assessment n .
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discipline
• train and control the mind 控制。 • 如：You should learn to discipline
children's minds. • 孩子们脑中出现了新的思想。 • Sunlight filtered through the window. • 夕阳从窗户透进房间。 • Foreign influence began to filter into the
高级英语Lesson-12-The-Loons-课文内容
高级英语L e s s o n-12-T h e-L o o n s-课文内容(总10页)--本页仅作为文档封面，使用时请直接删除即可----内页可以根据需求调整合适字体及大小--The LoonsMargarel LaurenceJust below Manawaka, where the Wachakwa River ran brown and noisy over the pebbles , the scrub oak and grey-green willow and chokecherry bushes grew in a dense thicket . In a clearing at the centre of the thicket stood the Tonnerre family's shack. The basis at this dwelling was a small square cabin made of poplar poles and chinked with mud, which had been built by Jules Tonnerre some fifty years before, when he came back from Batoche with a bullet in his thigh, the year that Riel was hung and the voices of the Metis entered their long silence. Jules had only intended to stay the winter in the Wachakwa Valley, but the family was still there in the thirties, when I was a child. As the Tonnerres had increased, their settlement had been added to, until the clearing at the foot of the town hill was a chaos of lean-tos, wooden packing cases, warped lumber, discarded car types, ramshackle chicken coops , tangled strands of barbed wire and rusty tin cans.The Tonnerres were French half breeds, and among themselves they spoke a patois that was neither Cree nor French. Their English was broken and full of obscenities . They did not belong among the Cree of the Galloping Mountain reservation, further north, and they did not belong among the Scots-Irish and Ukrainians of Manawaka, either. They were, as my Grandmother MacLeod would have put it, neither flesh, fowl, nor good salt herring . When their men were not working at odd jobs or as section hands on the . R. they lived on relief. In the summers, one of the Tonnerre youngsters, with a face that seemed totally unfamiliar with laughter, would knock at the doors of the town's brick houses and offer for sale a lard -pail full of bruised wild strawberries, and if he got as much as a quarter he would grab the coin and run before the customer had time to change her mind. Sometimes old Jules, or his son Lazarus, would get mixed up in a Saturday-night brawl , andwould hit out at whoever was nearest or howl drunkenly among the offended shoppers on Main Street, and then the Mountie would put them for the night in the barred cell underneath the Court House, and the next morning they would be quiet again.Piquette Tonnerre, the daughter of Lazarus, was in my class at school. She was older than I, but she had failedseveral grades, perhaps because her attendance had always been sporadic and her interest in schoolwork negligible . Part of the reason she had missed a lot of school was that she had had tuberculosis of the bone, and had once spent many months in hospital. I knew this because my father was the doctor who had looked after her. Her sickness was almost the only thing I knew about her, however. Otherwise, she existed for me only as a vaguely embarrassing presence, with her hoarse voice and her clumsy limping walk and her grimy cotton dresses that were always miles too long. I was neither friendly nor unfriendly towards her. She dwelt and moved somewhere within my scope of vision, but I did not actually notice her very much until that peculiar summer when I was eleven."I don't know what to do about that kid." my father said at dinner one evening. "Piquette Tonnerre, I mean. The damn bone's flared up again. I've had her in hospital for quite a while now, and it's under control all right, but I hate like the dickens to send her home again.""Couldn't you explain to her mother that she has to rest a lot"my mother said."The mother's not there" my father replied. "She took off a few years back. Can't say I blame her. Piquette cooks for them, and she says Lazarus would never do anything for himself as long as she's there. Anyway, I don't think she'd take much care of herself, once she got back. She's only thirteen, after all. Beth, I was thinking—What about taking her up to Diamond Lake with us this summerA couple of months rest would give that bone a much better chance."My mother looked stunned."But Ewen -- what about Roddie and Vanessa""She's not contagious ," my father said. "And it would be company for Vanessa.""Oh dear," my mother said in distress, "I'll bet anything she has nits in her hair.""For Pete's sake," my father said crossly, "do you think Matron would let her stay in the hospital for all this time like thatDon't be silly, Beth. "Grandmother MacLeod, her delicately featured face asrigid as a cameo , now brought her mauve -veined hands together as though she were about to begin prayer."Ewen, if that half breed youngster comes along to Diamond Lake, I'm not going," she announced. "I'll go toMorag's for the summer."I had trouble in stifling my urge to laugh, for my mother brightened visibly and quickly tried to hide it. If it came to a choice between Grandmother MacLeod and Piquette, Piquette would win hands down, nits or not."It might be quite nice for you, at that," she mused. "You haven't seen Morag for over a year, and you might enjoy being in the city for a while. Well, Ewen dear, you do what you think best. If you think it would do Piquette some good, then we' II be gladto have her, as long as she behaves herself."So it happened that several weeks later, when we all piledinto my father's old Nash, surrounded by suitcases and boxes of provisions and toys for my ten-month-old brother, Piquette was with us and Grandmother MacLeod, miraculously, was not. My father would only be staying at the cottage for a couple of weeks, for he had to get back to his practice, but the rest of us would stay at Diamond Lake until the end of August.Our cottage was not named, as many were, "Dew Drop Inn" or "Bide-a-Wee," or "Bonnie Doon”. The sign on the roadway bore in austere letters only our name, MacLeod. It was not a large cottage, but it was on the lakefront. You could look out the windows and see, through the filigree of the spruce trees, the water glistening greenly as the sun caught it. All around the cottage were ferns, and sharp-branchedraspberry bushes, and moss that had grown over fallen tree trunks, If you looked carefully among the weeds and grass, you could find wild strawberry plants which were in white flower now and in another month would bear fruit, the fragrant globes hanging like miniature scarlet lanterns on the thin hairy stems. The two grey squirrels were still there, gossiping at us from the tall spruce beside the cottage, and by the end of the summer they would again be tame enough to take pieces of crust from my hands. The broad moose antlers that hung above the back door were a little more bleached and fissured after the winter, but otherwise everything was the same. I raced joyfully around my kingdom, greeting all the places I had not seen for a year. My brother, Roderick, who had not been born when we were here last summer, sat on the car rug in the sunshine and examined a brown spruce cone, meticulously turning it round and round in his small and curious hands. My mother and father toted the luggage from car to cottage, exclaiming over how well the place had wintered, no broken windows, thank goodness, no apparent damage from storm felled branches or snow.Only after I had finished looking around did I notice Piquette. She was sitting on the swing her lame leg held stiffly out, and her other foot scuffing the ground as she swung slowlyback and forth. Her long hair hung black and straight around her shoulders, and her broad coarse-featured face bore no expression -- it was blank, as though she no longer dwelt within her own skull, as though she had gone elsewhere.I approached her very hesitantly."Want to come and play"Piquette looked at me with a sudden flash of scorn."I ain't a kid," she said.Wounded, I stamped angrily away, swearing I would not speak to her for the rest of the summer. In the days that followed, however, Piquette began to interest me, and l began to want to interest her. My reasons did not appear bizarre to me. Unlikely as it may seem, I had only just realised that the Tonnerre family, whom I had always heard Called half breeds, were actually Indians, or as near as made no difference. My acquaintance with Indians was not expensive. I did not remember ever having seen a real Indian, and my new awareness that Piquette sprang from the people of Big Bear and Poundmaker, of Tecumseh, of the Iroquois who had eaten Father Brébeuf's heart--all this gave her an instant attraction in my eyes. I was devoted reader of Pauline Johnson at this age, and sometimes would orate aloud and in an exalted voice, West Wind, blow from your prairie nest, Blow from the mountains, blow from the west--and so on. It seemed to me that Piquette must be in some way a daughter of the forest, a kind of junior prophetess of the wilds, who might impart to me, if I took the right approach, some of the secrets which she undoubtedly knew --where the whippoorwill made her nest, how the coyote reared her young, or whatever it was that it said in Hiawatha.I set about gaining Piquette's trust. She was not allowed to go swimming, with her bad leg, but I managed to lure her downto the beach-- or rather, she came because there was nothing else to do. The water was always icy, for the lake was fed by springs, but I swam like a dog, thrashing my arms and legs around at such speed and with such an output of energy that I never grew cold. Finally, when I had enough, I came out and sat beside Piquette on the sand. When she saw me approaching, her hands squashed flat the sand castle she had been building, and she looked at me sullenly, without speaking."Do you like this place"I asked, after a while, intending to lead on from there into the question of forest lore .Piquette shrugged. "It's okay. Good as anywhere.""I love it, "1 said. "We come here every summer.""So what"Her voice was distant, and I glanced at her uncertainly, wondering what I could have said wrong."Do you want to come for a walk"I asked her. "We wouldn't need to go far. If you walk just around the point there, you come to a bay where great big reeds grow in the water, and all kinds of fish hang around there. Want toCome on."She shook her head."Your dad said I ain't supposed to do no more walking than I got to." I tried another line."I bet you know a lot about the woods and all that, eh"I began respectfully.Piquette looked at me from her large dark unsmiling eyes."I don't know what in hell you're talkin' about," she replied. "You nuts or somethin' If you mean where my old man, and me, and all them live, you better shut up, by Jesus, you hear"I was startled and my feelings were hurt, but I had a kind of dogged perseverance. I ignored her rebuff."You know something, PiquetteThere's loons here, on this lake. You can see their nests just up the shore there, behind those logs. At night, you can hear them even from the cottage, but it's better to listen from the beach. My dad says we should listen and try to remember how they sound, because in a few years when more cottages are built at Diamond Lake and more people come in, the loons will go away."Piquette was picking up stones and snail shells and then dropping them again."Who gives a good goddamn"she said.It became increasingly obvious that, as an Indian, Piquette was a dead loss. That evening I went out by myself, scrambling through the bushes that overhung the steep path, my feet slipping on the fallen spruce needles that covered the ground. When I reached the shore, I walked along the firm damp sand to the small pier that my father had built, and sat down there. I heard someone else crashing through the undergrowth and the bracken, and for a moment I thought Piquette had changed her mind, but it turned out to be my father. He sat beside me on the pier and we waited, without speaking.At night the lake was like black glass with a streak of amber which was the path of the moon. All around, the spruce trees grew tall and close-set, branches blackly sharp against thesky, which was lightened by a cold flickering of stars. Then the loons began their calling. They rose like phantom birds from the nests on the shore, and flew out onto the dark still surface of the water.No one can ever describe that ululating sound, the crying of the loons, and no one who has heard it can ever forget it. Plaintive , and yet with a quality of chilling mockery , those voices belonged to a world separated by aeon from our neat world of summer cottages and the lighted lamps of home."They must have sounded just like that," my father remarked, "before any person ever set foot here." Then he laughed. "You could say the same, of course, about sparrows or chipmunk, but somehow it only strikes you that way with the loons.""I know," I said.Neither of us suspected that this would be the last time we would ever sit here together on the shore, listening. We stayed for perhaps half an hour, and then we went back to the cottage. My mother was reading beside the fireplace. Piquette was looking at the burning birch log, and not doing anything."You should have come along," I said, although in fact I was glad she had not."Not me", Piquette said. "You wouldn’ catch me walkin' way down there jus' for a bunch of squawkin' birds."Piquette and I remained ill at ease with one another. felt I had somehow failed my father, but I did not know what was the matter, nor why she Would not or could not respond when I suggested exploring the woods or Playing house. I thought it was probably her slow and difficult walking that held her back. She stayed most of the time in the cottage with my mother, helping her with the dishes or with Roddie, but hardly ever talking. Then the Duncans arrived at their cottage, and I spentmy days with Mavis, who was my best friend. I could not reach Piquette at all, and I soon lost interest in trying. But all that summer she remained as both a reproach and a mystery to me.That winter my father died of pneumonia, after less than a week's illness. For some time I saw nothing around me, being completely immersed in my own pain and my mother's. When I looked outward once more, I scarcely noticed that Piquette Tonnerre was no longer at school. I do not remember seeing her at all until four years later, one Saturday night when Mavis and I were having Cokes in the Regal Café. The jukebox was booming like tuneful thunder, and beside it, leaning lightly on its chrome and its rainbow glass, was a girl.Piquette must have been seventeen then, although she looked about twenty. I stared at her, astounded that anyone could have changed so much. Her face, so stolid and expressionless before, was animated now with a gaiety that was almost violent. She laughed and talked very loudly with the boys around her. Her lipstick was bright carmine, and her hair was cut Short and frizzily permed . She had not been pretty as a child, and she was not pretty now, for her features were still heavy and blunt. But her dark and slightly slanted eyes were beautiful, and her skin-tight skirt and orange sweater displayed to enviable advantage a soft and slender body.She saw me, and walked over. She teetered a little, but it was not due to her once-tubercular leg, for her limp was almost gone."Hi, Vanessa," Her voice still had the same hoarseness . "Long time no see, eh""Hi," I said "Where've you been keeping yourself, Piquette""Oh, I been around," she said. "I been away almost twoyears now. Been all over the place--Winnipeg, Regina, Saskatoon. Jesus, what I could tell you! I come back this summer, but I ain't stayin'. You kids go in to the dance""No," I said abruptly, for this was a sore point with me. I was fifteen, and thought I was old enough to go to the Saturday-night dances at the Flamingo. My mother, however, thought otherwise."Y'oughta come," Piquette said. "I never miss one. It's just about the on'y thing in this jerkwatertown that's any fun. Boy, you couldn' catch me stayin' here. I don' give a shit about this place. It stinks."She sat down beside me, and I caught the harsh over-sweetness of her perfume."Listen, you wanna know something, Vanessa"she confided , her voice only slightly blurred. "Your dad was the only person in Manawaka that ever done anything good to me."I nodded speechlessly. I was certain she was speaking the truth. I knew a little more than I had that summer at Diamond Lake, but I could not reach her now any more than I had then, I was ashamed, ashamed of my own timidity, the frightened tendency to look the other way. Yet I felt no real warmth towards her-- I only felt that I ought to, because of that distant summer and because my father had hoped she would be company for me, or perhaps that I would be for her, but it had not happened that way. At this moment, meeting her again, I had to admit that she repelled and embarrassed me, and I could not help despising the self-pity in her voice. I wished she would go away. I did not want to see her did not know what to say to her. It seemed that we had nothing to say to one another."I'll tell you something else," Piquette went on. "All the old bitches an' biddies in this town will sure be surprised. I'm gettin' married this fall -- my boy friend, he's an English fella, works in the stockyards in the city there, a very tall guy, got blond wavy hair. Gee, is he ever handsome. Got this real Hiroshima name. Alvin Gerald Cummings--some handle, ehThey call him Al."For the merest instant, then I saw her. I really did see her, for the first and only time in all the years we had both lived in the same town. Her defiant face, momentarily, became unguarded and unmasked, and in her eyes there was a terrifying hope."Gee, Piquette --" I burst out awkwardly, "that's swell.That's really wonderful. Congratulations—good luck--I hope you'll be happy--"As l mouthed the conventional phrases, I could only guess how great her need must have been, that she had been forced to seek the very things she so bitterly rejected.When I was eighteen, I left Manawaka and went away to college. At the end of my first year, I came back home for the summer. I spent the first few days in talking non-stop with my mother, as we exchanged all the news that somehow had not found its way into letters-- what had happened in my life and what had happened here in Manawaka while I was away. My mother searched her memory for events that concerned people I knew."Did I ever write you about Piquette Tonnerre, Vanessa"she asked one morning."No, I don't think so," I replied. "Last I heard of her, she was going to marry some guy in the city. Is she still there"My mother looked Hiroshima , and it was a moment before she spoke, as though she did not know how to express what she had to tell and wished she did not need to try."She's dead," she said at last. Then, as I stared at her, "Oh, Vanessa, when it happened, I couldn't help thinking of her as she was that summer--so sullen and gauche and badly dressed.I couldn't help wondering if we could have done something more at that time--but what could we doShe used to be around in the cottage there with me all day, and honestly it was all I could do to get a word out of her. She didn't even talk to your father very much, although I think she liked him in her way.""What happened"I asked."Either her husband left her, or she left him," my mother said. "I don't know which. Anyway, she came back here with two youngsters, both only babies--they must have been born very close together. She kept house, I guess, for Lazarus and her brothers, down in the valley there, in the old Tonnerre place. I used to see her on the street sometimes, but she never spoke to me. She'd put on an awful lot of weight, and she looked a mess, to tell you the truth, a real slattern , dressed any old how. She was up in court a couple of times--drunk and disorderly, of course. One Saturday night last winter, during the coldest weather, Piquette was alone in the shack with the children. The Tonnerres made home brew all the time, so I've heard, and Lazarus said later she'd been drinking most of the day when he and the boys went out that evening. They had an old woodstove there--you know the kind, with exposed pipes. The shack caught fire. Piquette didn't get out, and neither did the children."I did not say anything. As so often with Piquette, there did not seem to be anything to say. There was a kind of silencearound the image in my mind of the fire and the snow, and I wished I could put from my memory the look that I had seen once in Piquette's eyes.I went up to Diamond Lake for a few days that summer, with Mavis and her family. The MacLeod cottage had been sold after my father's death, and I did not even go to look at it, not wanting to witness my long-ago kingdom possessed now by strangers. But one evening I went clown to the shore by myself.The small pier which my father had built was gone, and in its place there was a large and solid pier built by the government, for Galloping Mountain was now a national park, and Diamond Lake had been re-named Lake Wapakata, for it was felt that an Indian name would have a greater appeal to tourists. The one store had become several dozen, and the settlement had all the attributes of a flourishing resort--hotels, a dance-hall, cafes with neon signs, the penetrating odours of potato chips and hot dogs. I sat on the government pier and looked out across the water. At night the lake at least was the same as it had always been, darkly shining and bearing within its black glass the streak of amber that was the path of the moon. There was no wind that evening, and everything was quiet all around me. It seemed too quiet, and then I realized that the loons were no longer here. I listened for some time, to make sure, but never once did I hear that long-drawn call, half mocking and half plaintive, spearing through the stillness across the lake. I did not know what had happened to the birds. Perhaps they had gone away to some far place of belonging. Perhaps they had been unable to find such a place, and had simply died out, having ceased to care any longer whether they lived or not. I remembered how Piquette had scorned to come along, when my father and I sat there and listened to the lake birds. It seemed to me now that in some unconscious and totally unrecognized way, Piquette might have been the only one, after all, who had heard the crying of the loons.NOTES1) Margaret Laurence: Born in Neepawa, Manitoba in Canada in publications include This Side of Jordan (1960), The Stone Angle(1964), A Jest of God (1966), The First Dwellers (1969), and The Diviners (1974).2) Rid: Louis Rid (1844-85) led two rebellions of Indians and Metis (people of mixed French and Indian blood) in 1869-70 and latter rebellion was crushed in the battle of Batoehe, Manitoba, and Riel was executed.3) patois: dialect4) broken English: English that is imperfectly spoken with mistakes in grammar and syntax5) neither flesh, fowl, nor good salt herring; also 'neither fish, flesh, nor fowl' meaning 'not anything definite or recognizable'6) C. P. R. : Canadian Pacific Railroad7) Mountie: a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police8) Nash: a former make of automobiles9) Big Bear and Poundmaker: leaders of the Cree10) Tecumseh (1768-1813): chief of the Shawnee11) Father Brebeuf: Jean de Brebeuf (1593-1649), Jesuit missionary to the Hurons12) Hurons, Shawnee, Cree and Troquois: Indian tribes13)West Wind ...the west: the first two lines from "The Song My Pad die Sings" by Pauline Johnson (1861-1913), Canadian poet who was the daughter of an English woman and a Mohawk chief 14) Hiawatha: romantic poem about Indians by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow15) Cokes: a popular shortened form for Coca-Cola, a carbonated soft drink manufactured in the U. S.16) I don't give a shit: once taboo but now a colloquial slang, meaning' I don't care a bit'。
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Lesson Twelve Why I Write一、Words and Expressions1.aesthetic-esthetic adj.美学的，审美的，艺术的美学标准aesthetic standards美感 aesthetic sense这个建筑的设计很美观。
The design of this building is very aesthetic.adv.aesthetically n.aesthetics 美学2.arrest-arresting v.-adj.put/place sb.under arrest她因为企图盗窃被捕了。
She was put under arrest for attempted burglary.adj.arresting: striking, appealing, attractivearresting smile/gesture/behavior3.backbone n.脊柱，中坚，栋梁，勇气， support这一代的年轻人是国家的栋梁之才。
The young of this generation are the backbone of the country.He has no backbone.他没有脊梁骨（没有坚强的性格）。
to the backbone彻底地backlog 积压的工作 a backlog of work, unanswered lettersback number 过期的期刊4.bout n.I.bout of (doing) sth.一回，一阵II.(疾病的)侵袭，发作 a bout of flu她患多发性抑郁症。
She suffered from frequent bouts of depression. III.拳击或摔跤比赛。
pulsion n.强制 being compelledI．under compulsion他勉强接受他们的邀请。
He accepted their invitation under compulsion.II．欲望，冲动毁物欲a compulsion to destroy thingspulsive 强迫性的，上瘾的a compulsive gamblingHe is a compulsive liar.他说谎成性。
pulsory 必须做的，有义务的必修课compulsory course我们国家实行义务兵役制。
In our country, military service is compulsory.pulsorily6.disagreeable-unpleasant adj.agreeable 宜人的天气 agreeable weather7.downright adj.作定语thorough, completeI．（指不喜欢的事物）彻底的，完全的彻头彻尾的谎言a downright lieII．坦白的，直率的frank, straightforwardadv.彻底地8.efface vt.擦去，抹去，使逐渐消失wipe out岁月和风雨早已磨掉了纪念碑上的铭文。
Time and weather had long ago effaced the inscription on the monument. 只有时间才能使人淡忘那些不愉快的回忆。
Time alone will efface those unpleasant memories.n.effacement9.id-ego-superegoego-centric 以自我为中心的egoism 自我主义，利己主义，自私自利自我主义者egoist adj.egoistic10.exhaust v.I.使疲倦，使筋疲力尽make sb.tiredHe exhausted himself in the hard work.II.用尽，耗尽use sth.up completely用尽力气/失去耐心exhaust one's strength/patienceThis subject has been exhausted.这一主题已经是被研究尽了。
adj.exhausted: very tired n.exhaustion地球上自然资源的迅速枯竭the rapid exhaustion of the earth's natural resourcesadj.exhausting11.fluctuate v.波动，动摇，变化不定fluctuate between A and B价格正在波动the price is fluctuating变化不定的意见fluctuating opinionsn.fluctuation12.humbug n.花招，谎话，骗子v.(-gg-) 欺诈，哄骗deceive, cheathumbug sb.into/out of (doing) sth.欺骗某人（不）相信某事13.ingrained adj.根深蒂固的，一成不变的deeply fixed根深蒂固的偏见ingrained prejudice14.mature-immature-maturely-maturity15.integrity n.I.诚实而正值a man of integrityII.完整，整体国家领土的完整the nation's territorial integrityv.integrate 使成为整体integrate A and B/A with B/into sth.将私立学校纳入国家教育体系integrate private schools into the state education system This building and its surroundings are well integrated.建筑物和周围的环境相融合。
adj.integrated 综合的，完整的综合计划integrated schemeintegrated circuit 集成电路16.meticulous adj.极细的precise, detailedbe meticulous in (doing) sth.小心翼翼的做某事adv.meticulously n.meticulousness17.narcissism n.自恋，自我陶醉narcissistic adj.18.nature-natural-naturalism-naturalist-naturalistic19.ornate adj.词藻华丽的，装饰华丽的ornate carvings in a churchornate description/styleadv.ornately n.ornatenessornament n./v.装饰，点缀 decorate/decoration20.outgrow v.他比他的哥哥长的都高。
He has already outgrown his older brother.outgrowth n.自然的发展或结果result航天工业发展的结果the outgrowth of the space industry21.outweigh v.在重要性或价值上超过利远大于弊。
The advantages far outweigh the disadvantages. This outweighs all other considerations.这一点是首要考虑的。
22.perverse adj.反常的，不合常理的a perverse decision/judgementadv.perversely n.perverseness/perversity22.picture n./v.picture sth.as 把某物描绘成adj.picturesque adv.picturesquely23.posterity un.future generation, offspring, descendants 为后代造福而植树 plant trees for the benefit of posterity Posterity will remember him as a truly great man.24.※reconcile v.常用于被动语态I.reconcile sb.with sb.重新和好，使和解她道歉之后，我们又和好了。
We were reconciled after she apologized.II.化解，调解他们无法调解彼此的分歧。
They cannot reconcile their differences.III.使一致，和谐 be in agreement with sth.reconcile A with B使证据符合事实reconcile the evidence with the factadj.reconcilable n.reconciliation25.shiver v./n.颤抖tremble esp.from cold or fearshiver with sth.冷得浑身发抖shiver all over with coldShe shivered at the thought of going into the dark house alone.adj.shivery 令人毛骨悚然的25.simile（明喻）-metaphor（暗喻）-personification（拟人）-exaggeration（夸张）26.slant v./n.I.倾斜，歪 lean, not be straight他写的字从左往右倾斜。
His handwriting slants from left to right.这幅画歪向左边了。
This picture is slanted to the left.II.歪曲 slant one's reportIII.on a/the slant倾斜着，歪着adj.slanted 有偏见的 adv.slantingly27.snub v./n.(-bb-) 冷落，怠慢treat sb.coldlyhurt by the snubs of the other childrenShe snubbed them by not replying their invitation.28.squall v./n.loud cry or scream29.tumult n.混乱，骚乱 disturbance or confusion, disordera tumult of passion, jealousy, excitement 一阵激情，嫉妒，激动adj.tumultuous 无序的，混乱的，嘈杂的30.undervalue /underdeveloped/ undertone/underestimate/ underweight/ understate（有节制的表达或陈述）/ understaffed (人员不足的)二、TextFrom a very early age, perhaps the age of five or six, I knew that when I grew up I should be a writer.Between the ages of about seventeen and twenty-four I tried to abandon this idea, but I did so with the consciousness that I was outraging my true nature and that sooner or later I should have to settle down and write books.1.abandon the idea: give up, throw away2.with the consciousness that 清醒地认识到3.settle down 定居下来I was the middle child of three, but there was gap of five years on either side, and I barely saw my father before I was eight.For this and other reasons I was somewhat lonely, and I soon developed disagreeable mannerisms which made me unpopular throughout my school days.I had the lonely child's habit of making up stories and holding conversations with imaginary persons, and I think from the very start my literary ambitions were mixed up with the feeling of being isolated and undervalued.I knew that I had a facility with words and a power of facing unpleasant facts, and I felt that this created a sort of private world in which I could get my own back for my failure in everyday life…4.for this and other reason5.make up stories 编故事6.from the very start/beginning 从一开始7.hold conversation with sb.8.mix up with sth.: combine with,将…结合起来9.have a facility with 拥有某种能力…As a very small child I used to imagine that I was, sa y, Robin Hood, and picture myself as the hero of thrilling adventures, but quite soon my "story" ceased to be narcissistic in a crude way and became more and more a mere description of what I was doing and the things I saw.For minutes at a time this kind of thing would be running through my head: "He pushed the door open and entered the room.A yellow beam of sunlight, filtering through the muslin curtains, slanted on to the table, where a matchbox, half open lay beside the inkpot.With his right hand in his pocket he moved across to the window.Down in the street a tortoiseshell cat was chasing a dead leaf," etc., etc.This habit continued till I was about twenty -five, right through my non-literary year.Although I had to search, and did search, for the right words, I seemed to be making this descriptive effort almost against my will, under a kind of compulsion from outside.The "story" must, I suppose, have reflected the styles of the various writers I admired at different ages, but so far as I remember it always had the same meticulous descriptive quality.10.filter through : penetrate through 穿过11.at a time : every /each time12.beam:一束13.continue : go on,继续14.search for : look for 寻找15.meticulous :极细的When I was about sixteen I suddenly discovered the joy of mere words, i.e.the sounds and associations of words.The lines from Paradise Lost-So hee with difficulty and labour hardMoved on : with difficulty and labour hee,"which do not now seem to me so very wonderful, sent shivers down my backbone; and the spelling "hee" for " he" was an added pleasure.As for the need to describe things, I knew all about it already.So it is clear what kind of books I wanted to write, in so far as I could be said to want to write books at that time.I wanted to write enormous naturalistic novels with unhappy ending, full of detailed descriptions and arresting similes, and also full of purple passages in which words were used partly of the sake of their sound.And in fact my first completed novel, Burmese Days, which I wrote whenI was thirty but projected much earlier, is rather that kind of books.16.against one's will17.as for 因为…就…而言1.What king of books did Orwell want to write?He wanted to write enormous naturalistic novels with unhappy endings, full of detailed descriptions and arresting similes, and also full of purple passages in which words were used partly for the sake of their sound.18.for the sake of : for the purpose of 为了…缘故And in fact my first completed novel, Burmese Days, which I wrote when I was thirtybut projected much earlier, is rather that kind of book.I give all this background information because I do not think one can assess a writer's motives without knowing something of his early development.His subject matter will be determined by the age he live in -at least this is true in tumultuous, revolutionary ages like our own -but before he ever begins to write he will have acquired an emotional attitude from which he will never completely escape.It is his job, no doubt, to discipline his temperament and avoid getting stuck at some immature stage, or in some perverse mood: but if he escapes from his early influences altogether, he will have killed his impulse to write.Putting aside the need to earn a living, I think there are four great motives for writing, at any rate for writing prose.They exist in different degrees in every writer, and in any one writer the proportions will vary from time to time, according to the atmosphere in which he is living.They are:1.tumultuous, revolutionary ages 动荡的，革命性时代；2.avoid doing 避免……3.perverse mood 反常的心态4.put sth.aside 把……放在一边5.vary from…to…2.What are the four great motives for writing according to George Orwell?They are:(1)Sheer egoism.Desire to seem clever, to be talked about, to be remembered after death, to get your own back on grown ups who snubbed you in childhood, etc., etc.It is humbug to pretend that this is not a motive, and a strong one…6.snub: treat badly(2)Aesthetic enthusiasm.Perception of beauty in the external world, or, on the other hand, in words and their right arrangement.Pleasure in the impact of one sound on another, in the firmness of good prose or the rhythm of a good story.Desire to share an experience which one feels is valuable and ough t not to be missed…7.firmness: strength 坚强，力量(3)Historical impulse.Desire to see things, as they are, to find out true facts and store them up for the use of posterity.8.historical impulse：历史冲动感(4)Political purpose-using the word "political" in the widest possible sense.Desire to push the world in a certain direction, to alter other people's idea of the kind of society that they should strive after.Once again, no book is genuinely free from political bias.The opinion that art should have nothing to do with politics is itself a political attitude.9.in the widest sense 在广义上讲10.in a certain direction 按照一定的方向11.strive after: struggle for奋斗, 争取12.have nothing to do with… 与……无关13.political attitude 政治态度It can be seen how these various impulses must war against one another, and how they must fluctuate form person to person and from time to time.By nature -taking your "nature" to be the state you have attained when you are first adult- I am a person in whom thefirst three motives would outweigh the fourth.In a peaceful age I might have written ornate or merely descriptive books, and might have remained almost unaware of my political loyalties.As it is I have been force in to becoming a sort of pamphleteer.First I spent five years in an unsuitable profession ( the Indian Imperial Police, in Burma), and then I underwent poverty and the sense of failure.This increased my natural hatred of authority and made me for the first time fully aware of the existence of the working classes, and the job in Burma had given me some understanding of the nature of imperialism; but these experiences were not enough to give me an accurate political orientation.Then came Hitler, the Spanish Civil War, etc.By the end of 1935 I had still failed to reach a firm decision.14.political loyalties: political bias 政治忠诚/倾向性15.fluctuate from-to-16.outweigh 重于，大于17.be (un)aware of sth.了解，察觉3.What was Orwell's political stand?Against totalitarianism and for democratic socialism.The Spanish war and other events in 1936-1937 turned the scale and thereafter I knew where I stood.Every line of serious work that I have written since 1936 has been written directly or indirectly, against totalitarianism and for democratic socialism, as I understand it.It seems to me nonsense, in a period like our own to think that one can avoid writing of such subjects.Everyone writes of them in one guise or another.It is simply a question of which side one takes and what approach one follows.And the more one in conscious of one's political bias, the more chance one has of acting politically without sacrificing one's aesthetic and intellectual integrity.18.against sth.for sth.反对…支持…19.force sb.into doing sth.强迫某人干某事20.be conscious of: be aware of知道21.take the side 选择…What I have most wanted to do throughout the past ten years is to make political writing into an art.My starting point is always a feeling of partisanship, a sense of injustice.When I sit down to write a book I do not say to myself, "I am going to produce a work of art." I write it because there is some lie that I want to expose, some fact to which I want to draw attention and my initial concern is to get a hearing.But I could not do the work of writing a book, or even a long magazine article, if it were not also an aesthetic experience.Anyone who cares to examine my work will see that even when it is downright propaganda it contains much that a full-time politician would consider irrelevant.I am not able, and I do not want, completely to abandon the world-view that I acquired in childhood.So long as I remain alive and well I shall continue to feel strongly about prose style, to love the surface of the earth, and to take a pleasure in suppress that side of myself.The job is to reconcile my ingrained likes and dislikes with the essentially public non-individual activities that this age forces on all of us.22.reach a firm decision 达到一定的目的23.in the guise24.It is no use doing sth.做…没用25.force sth.on/upon sb.把…强加于…5.What was the political and social environment that shaped his political orientation?It is not easy.It raises problems of construction and of language, and it raises ina new way the problem of truthfulness…26.raise problems 提出问题In one form or another this problem comes up again.The problem of language is subtler and would take too long to discuss.I will only say that of late years I have tried to write less picturesquely and more exactly.In any case I found that by the time you have perfected any style of writing, you have always outgrown it.Animal Farm was the first book in which I tried, with full consciousness of what I was doing, to fuse political purpose and artistic purpose into one whole.I have not written a novel for seven years, but I hope to write another fairly soon.It is bound to be a failure, every book is a failure, but I do know with some clarity what kind of book I want to write.27.in one form or another 以各种形式28.fuse sth.into 把…融会到1.What king of books did Orwell want to write?(1)He wanted to write enormous naturalistic novels with unhappy endings, full of detailed descriptions and arresting similes, and also full of purple passages in which words were used partly for the sake of their sound.(2)I have tried to write less picturesquely and more exactly.6.Did Orwell propose to stick to one style only? What is his idea about style?4.What are Orwell's views about the relationship between political content and aesthetic form in writing?Fuse political purpose and artistic purpose.…Writing a book is a horrible, exhaust ing struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness.One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.For all one knows that demon is simply the same instinct that makes a baby squally for attention.And yet it is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface one's own personality.Good prose us like a window pane.I cannot say with certainty which of my motives are the strongest, but I know which of them deserve to be followed.And looking back through my work, I see that it is invariably where I lacked a political purpose that I wrote lifeless books and was betrayed into purple passages, sentences without meaning, decorative adjectives and humbug generally.drive: 驱动efface: 抹掉，擦掉7.What did Orwell think of purple passages?Sentences without meaning, decorative adjectives and humbug generally.8.Do you agree with Orwell's theory of fusing political purpose and artistic form into one whole?三、ExercisesC.Fill in the blank in each sentence with the best word or expression from the box below, changing its form when necessary:。