弗兰纳里奥康纳美国文学教学教案
Flannery O’Connor 1925—1964American writer, particularly acclaimed for her stories which combined comic with tragic and brutal. Along with authors like Carson McCullers and Eudora Welty, Flannery O'Connor belonged to the Southern Gothic tradition that focused on the decaying South and its damned people. O'Connor's body of work was small, consisting of only thirty-one stories, two novels, and some speeches and letters."Does one's integrity ever lie in what he is not able to do? I think that usually it does, for free will does not mean one will, but many wills conflicting in one man, Freedom cannot be conceived simply." (from Wise Blood, 1952)Flannery O'Connor was born in Savannah, Georgia, the only child of a Catholic family. The region was part of the 'Christ-haunted' Bible belt of the Southern States. The spiritual heritage of the region shaped profoundly O'Connor's writing as described in her essay "The Catholic Novelist in the Protestant South" (1969). O'Connor's father, Edward F. O'Connor, was a realtor owner. He worked later for a construction company and died in 1941. Her mother, Regina L. (Cline) O'Connor, came from a prominent family in the state - her father had been a mayor of Milledgeville for many years.When O'Connor was 12, her family moved to Milledgeville, her mother's birthplace. She attended the Peabody High School and enrolled in the Georgia State College for Women. At school she edited the college magazine and graduated in 1945 with an A.B. O'Connor then continued her studies at the University of Iowa, where she attended writer's workshops conducted by Paul Engle. At the age of 21 she published her first short story, 'The Geranium', in Accent. In the following year she received the degree of Master of Fine Arts in Literature. In 1947 she lived for seven months at Yaddo, Saratoga Springs, N.Y., an estate left by the Trask family for writers, painters and musicians.O'Connor published four chapters of Wise Blood in Mademoiselle, Sewanee Review, and Partisan Review in 1948 and 1949. The complete novel appeared 1952. It dealt with a young religious enthusiast, who attempts to establish a church without Christ. The Signet paperback version of the book advertised it as "A Searching Novel of Sin and Redemption". O'Connor's second novel, The Violent Bear It Away (1960), had a related subject matter. The protagonist is Francis Marion Tarwater who begins his ministry in his youth. He baptizes and drowns Bishop, his uncle's idiot son. Old Tarwater warns his grand-nephew: "'You are the kind of boy,' the old man said, 'that the devil is always going to be offering to assists, to give you a smoke or a drink or a ride, and to ask you your bidnis. You had better mind how you take up with strangers.'" Young Tarwater sets fire to his own woods to clean himself, and like his great-uncle, a mad prophet, he finally becomes a prophet and a madman. O'Connor once explained that "I can write about Protestant believers better than Catholicbelievers - because they express their belief in diverse kinds of dramatic action which is obvious enough for me to catch. I can't write about anything subtle."The young protagonist of Wise Blood, Hazel Mote, returns from the army with his faith gone awry. He founds the Church Without Christ, wears a preacher's bright blue suit and a preacher's black hat. He is accompanied by bizarre villains. Asa Hawks pretends to have blinded himself. Sabbath Lily, his daughter, turns into a monster of sexual voracity. The fox-faced young Enoch Emery steals from a museum a mummy, which he thinks of as "the new jesus." Enoch knows things because "he had wise blood like his daddy." Eventually Enoch finds his religious fulfillment dressed in a stolen gorilla costume. Hazel buys an old Essex automobile, his own religious mystery: "Nobody with a good car needs to be justified." Haze murders the False Prophet, his rival, by running over him with his second-hand Essex, and faces his cul-de-sac.John Huston read the novel in 1978 - he received a copy of it from Michael Fitzgerald, whose father was O'Connor's literary executor. Against all odds, Michael Fitzgerald got the money for the production, some $2,000,000; the screenplay was written by Michael and his brother, Benedict, and everyone worked for a minimum wage. Most of the film was shot in Macon, Georgia."There were seven outstanding performances in Wise Blood. Only three of those seven actors have any reputation to speak of: Brad Dourif, Ned Beatty and Harry Dean Stanton. The other four are unknowns. They are all great stars, as far as I'm concerned. Nothing would make me happier than to see this picture gain popular acceptance and turn a profit. It would prove something. I'm not sure what... but something." ( John Huston in An Open Book, 1988)In 1950 O'Connor suffered her first attack from disseminated lupus, a debilitating blood disease that had killed her father. She returned to Milledgeville where she lived with her mother on her dairy farm. In spite of the illness, O'Connor continued to write and occasionally she lectured about creative writing in colleges. "I write every day for at least two hours," she said in an interview in 1952, "and I spend the rest of my time largely in the society of ducks.""I am making out fine in spite of any conflicting stories," she wrote to Robert Lowell. "I have enough energy to write with and as that is all I have any business doing anyhow, I can with one eye squinted take it all as a blessing. What you have to measure out, you come to observe more closely, or so I tell myself." O'Connor read such thinkers as Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (1881-195), George Santayana (1863-1952), and Hannah Arendt (1906-1975). In New York she had befriended with Robert and Sally Fitzgerald, two other literary Roman Catholics. She lived and wrote in their house in Ridgefield, Connecticut until illness redirected her life in 1951. O'Connor named Robert Fitzgerald as her literary executor. He selected and edited with his wife a volume of O'Connor's occasional prose, which was published in 1969 under the title Mystery and Manners.From around 1955 O'Connor was forced to use crutches. An abdominal operation reactivated the lupus and O'Connor died on August 3, 1964, at the age of 39. Her second collection of short stories,Everything That Rises Must Converge, was published posthumously in 1965. The Complete Short Stories(1971) contained several stories that had not previously appeared in book form. O'Connor's letters, published as The Habit of Being(1979), reveal her conscious craftsmanship in writing and the role of Roman Catholicism in her life.O'Connor's short stories have been considered her finest work. With A Good Man Is Hard to Find, and Other Stories (1955) she came to be regarded as a master of the form. The cover art of the 1956 Signet paperback edition featured an encounter with a man in a dark suit and voluptuous woman. In the title story a grandmother, her son and daughter-in-law and their three children, are on a car journey. They encounter an escaped criminal called the Misfit and his two killers, Hiram and Bobby Lee. The family is casually wiped out by them when the grandmother recognizes the Misfit from his ''Wanted'' poster. The hallucinating grandmother murmurs: "Why you're one of my babies. You're one of my own children!" The Misfit shoots her and says: "She would of been a good woman if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life."'A View of the Woods' was a violent and perhaps pointless tale of the seventy-nine-year-old Mr. Fortune and his nine-year-old granddaughter, Mary Fortune Pitts, both selfish and mean. The story ends in a fight. The grandfather smashes Mary's head several times against a rock, killing her. Exhausted, he manages to take a few steps, has a final "view of the woods," and dies of a heart attack.In the story "Good Country People" a young woman with a sense of moral superiority experiences her downfall. The protagonist, Joy Hopewell, has an artificial leg as a result of a hunting accident. She has a Ph.D. in philosophy and she has changed her name legally from Joy to Hulga. Joy-Hulga tries to seduce a Bible salesman, a simple-seeming country boy, with the obvious phallic name of Manley Pointer. He turns out to be another 'Hazel Motes' and disappears with her artificial leg. "The Artificial Nigger" is a lesson about injustice. However, O'Connor's short stories have not so strong theological basis as her novels. They often focus on grotesque characters, have a crisp humor, and are open to interpretation. Recurrent images include the flaming suns, mutilated eyes, peacocks - she raised them in Milledgeville - colorful shirts, and bright blue suits and stern black hats of preachers.GOOD COUNTRY PEOPLEBESIDES the neutral expression that she wore when she was alone, Mrs. Freeman had two others, forward and reverse, that she used for all her human dealings. Her forward expression was steady and driving like the advance of a heavy truck. Her eyes never swerved to left or right but turned as the story turned as if they followed a yellow line down the center of it. She seldom used the other expression because it was not often necessary forher to retract a statement, but when she did, her face came to a complete stop, there was an almost imperceptible movement of her black eyes, during which they seemed to be receding, and then the observer would see that Mrs. Freeman, though she might stand there as real as several grain sacks thrown on top of each other, was no longer there in spirit. As for getting anything across to her when this was the case, Mrs. Hopewell had given it up. She might talk her head off. Mrs. Freeman could never be brought to admit herself wrong to any point. She would stand there and if she could be brought to say anything, it was something like, “Well, I wouldn’t of said it was and I wouldn’t of said it wasn’t? or letting her gaze range over the top kitchen shelf where there was an assortment of dusty bottles, she might remark, “I see you ain’t ate many of them figs you put up last summer.”They carried on their most important business in the kitchen at breakfast. Every morning Mrs. Hopewell got up at seven o’clock and lit her gas heater and Joy’s. Joy was her daughter, a large blonds girl who had an artificial leg. Mrs. Hopewell thought of her as a child though she was thirty-two years old and highly educated. Joy would get up while her mother was eating and lumber into the bathroom and slam the door, and before long, Mrs. Freeman would arrive at the back door. Joy would hear her mother call, ‘Come on in,’ and then they would talk for a while in low voices that were indistinguishable in the bathroom. By the time Joy came in, they had usually finished the weather report and were on one or the other of Mrs. Freeman’s daughters, Glynese or Carramae. Joy called them Glycerin and Caramel. Glynese, a redhead, was eighteen and had many admirers; Carramae, a blonde, was only fifteen but already married and pregnant. She could not keep anything on her stomach. Every morning Mrs. Freeman told Mrs. Hopewell how many times she had vomited since the last report.Mrs. Hopewell liked to tell people that Glynese and Carramae were two of the finest girls she knew and that Mrs. Freeman was a lady and that she was never ashamed to take her anywhere or introduce her to anybody they might meet. Then she would tell how she had happened to hire the Freemans in the first place and how they were a godsend to her and how she had had them four years. The reason for her keeping them so long was that they were not trash. They were good country people. She had telephoned the man whose name they had given as reference and he had told her that Mr. Freeman was a good farmer but that his wife was the nosiest woman ever to walk the earth. “She’s got to be into everything,”the man said. “If she don’t get there before the dust settles, you can bet she’s dead, that’s all. She’ll want to know all your business. I can stand him real good,” he had said, “but me nor my wife neither could have stood that woman one more minute on this place.” That had put Mrs. Hopewell off for a few days.She had hired them in the end because there were no other applicants but she had made up her mind beforehand exactly how she would handle the woman. Since she was the type who had to be into everything, then, Mrs. Hopewell had decided, she would not only let her be into everything, she would see to it that she was into everything —she would give her the responsibility of everything, she would put her in charge. Mrs. Hopewell had no bad qualities of her own but she was able to use other people’s in such a constructive way that she had kept them four years.Nothing is perfect. This was one of Mrs. Hopewell’s favorite sayings. Another was: that is life! And still another, the most important, was: well, other people have theiropinions too. She would make these statements, usually at the table, in a tone of gentle insistence as if no one held them but her, and the large hulking Joy, whose constant outrage had obliterated every expression from her face, would stare just a little to the side of her, her eyes icy blue, with the look of someone who had achieved blindness by an act of will and means to keep it.When Mrs. Hopewell said to Mrs. Freeman that life was like that, Mrs. Freeman would say, “I always said so myself.”Nothing had been arrived at by anyone that had not first been arrived at by her. She was quicker than Mr. Freeman. When Mrs. Hopewell said to her after they had been on the place for a while, “You know, you’re the wheel behind the wheel,” and winked, Mrs. Freeman had said, “I know it. I’ve always been quick. It’s some that are quicker than others.”“Everybody is different,” Mrs. Hopewell said.“Yes, most people is,” Mrs. Freeman said.“It takes all kinds to make the world.”“I always said it did myself.”The girl was used to this kind of dialogue for breakfast and more of it for dinner; sometimes they had it for supper too. When they had no guest they ate in the kitchen because that was easier. Mrs. Freeman always managed to arrive at some point during the meal and to watch them finish it. She would stand in the doorway if it were summer but in the winter she would stand with one elbow on top of the refrigerator and look down at them, or she would stand by the gas heater, lifting the back of her skirt slightly. Occasionally she would stand against the wall and roll her head from side to side. At no time was she in any hurry to leave. All this was very trying on Mrs. Hopewell but she was a woman of great patience. She realized that nothing is perfect and that in the Freemans she had good country people and that if, in this day and age, you get good country people, you had better hang onto them.She had had plenty of experience with trash. Before the Freemans she had averaged one tenant family a year. The wives of these farmers were not the kind you would want to be around you for very long. Mrs. Hopewell, who had divorced her husband long ago, needed someone to walk over the fields with her; and when Joy had to be impressed for these services, her remarks were usually so ugly and her face so glum that Mrs. Hopewell would say, “If you can’t come pleasantly, I don’t want you at all,”to which the girl, standing square and rigid-shouldered with her neck thrust slightly forward, would reply, “If you want me, here I am —LIKE I AM.”Mrs. Hopewell excused this attitude because of the leg (which had been shot off in a hunting accident when Joy was ten). It was hard for Mrs. Hopewell to realize that her child was thirty-two now and that for more than twenty years she had had only one leg. She thought of her still as a child because it tore her heart to think instead of the poor stout girl in her thirties who had never danced a step or had any normal good times. Her name was really Joy but as soon as she was twenty-one and away from home, she had had it legally changed. Mrs. Hopewell was certain that she had thought and thought until she had hit upon the ugliest name in any language. Then she had gone and had the beautiful name, Joy, changed without telling her mother until after she had done it. Her legal name was Hulga.When Mrs. Hopewell thought the name, Hulga, she thought of the broad blank hull of abattleship. She would not use it. She continued to call her Joy to which the girl responded but in a purely mechanical way.Hulga had learned to tolerate Mrs. Freeman who saved her from taking walks with her mother. Even Glynese and Carramae were useful when they occupied attention that might otherwise have been directed at her. At first she had thought she could not stand Mrs. Freeman for she had found it was not possible to be rude to her. Mrs. Freeman would take on strange resentments and for days together she would be sullen but the source of her displeasure was always obscure; a direct attack, a positive leer, blatant ugliness to her face —these never touched her. And without warning one day, she began calling her Hulga.She did not call her that in front of Mrs. Hopewell who would have been incensed but when she and the girl happened to be out of the house together, she would say something and add the name Hulga to the end of it, and the big spectacled Joy-Hulga would scowl and redden as if her privacy had been intruded upon. She considered the name her personal affair. She had arrived at it first purely on the basis of its ugly sound and then the full genius of its fitness had struck her. She had a vision of the name working like the ugly sweating Vulcan who stayed in the furnace and to whom, presumably, the goddess had to come when called. She saw it as the name of her highest creative act. One of her major triumphs was that her mother had not been able to turn her dust into Joy, but the greater one was that she had been able to turn it herself into Hulga. However, Mrs. Freeman’s relish for using the name only irritated her. It was as if Mrs. Freeman’s beady steel-pointed eyes had penetrated far enough behind her face to reach some secret fact. Something about her seemed to fascinate Mrs. Freeman and then one day Hulga realized that it was the artificial leg. Mrs. Freeman had a special fondness for the details of secret infections, hidden deformities, assaults upon children. Of diseases, she preferred the lingering or incurable. Hulga had heard Mrs. Hopewell give her the details of the hunting accident, how the leg had been literally blasted off, how she had never lost consciousness. Mrs. Freeman could listen to it any time as if it had happened an hour ago.When Hulga stumped into the kitchen in the morning (she could walk without making the awful noise but she made it —Mrs. Hopewell was certain —because it was ugly-sounding), she glanced at them and did not speak. Mrs. Hopewell would be in her red kimono with her hair tied around her head in rags. She would be sitting at the table, finishing her breakfast and Mrs. Freeman would be hanging by her elbow outward from the refrigerator, looking down at the table. Hulga always put her eggs on the stove to boil and then stood over them with her arms folded, and Mrs. Hopewell would look at her —a kind of indirect gaze divided between her and Mrs. Freeman —and would think that if she would only keep herself up a little, she wouldn’t be so bad looking. There was nothing wrong with her face that a pleasant expression wouldn’t help. Mrs. Hopewell said that people who looked on the bright side of things would be beautiful even if they were not.Whenever she looked at Joy this way, she could not help but feel that it would have been better if the child had not taken the Ph.D. It had certainly not brought her out any and now that she had it, there was no more excuse for her to go to school again. Mrs. Hopewell thought it was nice for girls to go to school t o have a good time but Joy had “gone through.”Anyhow, she would not have been strong enough to go again. The doctors had told Mrs.Hopewell that with the best of care, Joy might see forty-five. She had a weak heart. Joy had made it plain that if it had not been for this condition, she would be far from these red hills and good country people. She would be in a university lecturing to people who knew what she was talking about. And Mrs. Hopewell could very well picture here there, looking like a scarecrow and lecturing to more of the same. Here she went about all day in a six-year-old skirt and a yellow sweat shirt with a faded cowboy on a horse embossed on it. She thought this was funny; Mrs. Hopewell thought it was idiotic and showed simply that she was still a child. She was brilliant but she didn’t have a grain of sense. It seemed to Mrs. Hopewell that every year she grew less like other people and more like herself —bloated, rude, and squint-eyed. And she said such strange things! To her own mother she had said—without warning, without excuse, standing up in the middle of a meal with her face purple and her mouth half full—Woman! Do you ever look inside? Do you ever look inside and see what you are not?God!” she had cried sinking down again and staring at her plate, “Malebranche was right: we are not our own light. We are not our own light!”Mrs. Hopewell had no idea to this day what brought that on. She had only made the remark, hoping Joy would take it in, that a smile never hurt anyone. The girl had taken the Ph.D. in philosophy and this left Mrs. Hopewell at a complete loss. You could say, “My daughter is a nurse,”or “My daughter is a school teacher,?”or even, “My daughter is a chemical engineer.”You could not say, “My daughter is a philosopher.”That was something that had ended with the Greeks and Romans. All day Joy sat on her neck in a deep chair, reading. Sometimes she went for walks but she didn’t like dogs or cats or birds or flowers or nature or nice young men. She looked at nice young men as if she could smell their stupidity.One day Mrs. Hopewell had picked up one of the books the girl had just put down and opening it at random, she read, “Science, on the other hand, has to assert its soberness and seriousness afresh and declare that it is concerned solely with what-is. Nothing—how can it be for science anything but a horror and a phantasm? If science is right, then one thing stands firm: science wishes to know nothing of nothing. Such is after all the strictly scientific approach to Nothing. We know it by wishing to know nothing of Nothing.”These words had been underlined with a blue pencil and they worked on Mrs. Hopewell like some evil incantation in gibberish. She shut the book quickly and went out of the room as if she were having a chill.This morning when the girl came in, Mrs. Freeman was on Carramae. “She thrown up four times after supper,”she said, “and was up twice in the night after three o’clock. Yesterday she didn’t do nothing but ramble in the bureau drawer. All she did. Stand up there and see what she could run up on.”“She’s got to eat,” Mrs. Hopewell muttered, sipping her coffee, while she watched Joy’s back at the stove. She was wondering what the child had said to the Bible salesman. She could not imagine what kind of a conversation she could possibly have had with him.He was a tall gaunt hatless youth who had called yesterday to sell them a Bible. He had appeared at the door, carrying a large black suitcase that weighted him so heavily on one side that he had to brace himself against the door facing. He seemed on the point of collapse but he said in a cheerful voice, ?Good morning, Mrs. Cedars!? and set the suitcase down on the mat. He was not a bad-looking young man though he had on a bright blue suitand yellow socks that were not pulled up far enough. He had prominent face bones and a streak of sticky-looking brown hair falling across his forehead.“I’m Mrs. Hopewell,” she said.“Oh!” he said, pretending to look puzzled but with his eyes sparkling, “I saw it said ‘The Cedars’ on the mailbox so I thought you was Mrs. Cedars!” and he burst out in a pleasant laugh. He picked up the satchel and under cover of a pant, he fell forward into her hall. It was rather as if the suitcase had moved first, jerking him after it. “Mrs. Hopewell!” he said and grabbed her hand. “I hope you are well!” and he laughed again and then all at once his face sobered completely. He paused and gave her a straight earnest look and said, “Lady, I’ve come to speak of serious things.”“Well, come in,”she muttered, none too pleased because her dinner was almost ready. He came into the parlor and sat down on the edge of a straight chair and put the suitcase between his feet and glanced around the room as if he were sizing her up by it. Her silver gleamed on the two sideboards; she decided he had never been in a room as elegant as this.“Mrs. Hopewell,” he began, using her name in a way that sounded almost intimate, ?I know you believe in Chrustian service.?“Well, yes,” she murmured.“I know,” he said and paused, looking very wise with his head cocked on one side, “that you’re a good woman. Friends have told me.”Mrs. Hopewell never liked to be taken for a fool. “What are you selling?” she asked.“Bibles,” the young man said and his eye raced around the room before he added, “I see you have no family Bible in your parlor, I see that is the one lack you got!”Mrs. Hopewell could not say, “My daughter is an atheist and won’t let me keep the Bible in the parlor.”She said, stiffening slightly, “I keep my Bible by my bedside.”This was not the truth. It was in the attic somewhere.“Lady,” he said, “the word of God ought to be in the parlor.”“Well, I think that’s a matter of taste,” she began, “I think…”“Lady,”he said, “for a Chrustian, the word of God ought to be in every room in the house besides in his heart. I know you’re a Chrustian because I can see it in every line of your face.”She stood up and said, “Well, young man, I don’t want to buy a Bible and I smell my dinner burning.”He didn’t get up. He began to twist his hands and looking down at them, he said softly, “Well lady, I’ll tell you the truth—not many people want to buy one nowadays and besides, I know I’m real simple. I don’t know how to say a thing but to say it. I’m just a country boy.”He glanced up into her unfriendly face. “People like you don’t like to fool with country people like me!”“Why!” she cried, “good country people are the salt of the earth! Besides, we all have different ways of doing, it takes all kinds to make the world go ’round. That’s life!”“You said a mouthful,” he said.“Why, I think there aren’t enough good country people in the world!”she said, stirred. “I think that’s what’s wrong with it!”His face had brightened. “I didn’t intraduce myself,”he said. “I’m Manley Pointerfrom out in the country around Willohobie, not even from a place, just from near a place.”“You wait a minute,” she said. “I have to see about my dinner.”She went out to the kitchen and found Joy standing near the door where she had been listening.“Get rid of the salt of the earth,? she said, “and let’s eat.”Mrs. Hopewell gave her a pained look and turned the heat down under the vegetables. “I can’t be rude to anybody,” she murmured and went back into the parlor.He had opened the suitcase and was sitting with a Bible on each knee.“I appreciate your honesty,” he said. “You don’t see any more real honest people unless you go way out in the country.”“I know,”she said, ‘real genuine folks!’Through the crack in the door she heard a groan.“I guess a lot of boys come telling you they’re working their way through college,” he said, “but I’m not going to tell you that. Somehow,”he said, “I don’t want to go to college. I want to devote my life to Chrustian service. See,” he said, lowering his voice, “I got this heart condition. I may not live long. When you know it’s something wrong with you and you may not live long, well then, lady?”He paused, with his mouth open, and stared at her.He and Joy had the same condition! She knew that her eyes were filling with tears but she collected herself quickly and murmured, “Won’t you stay for dinner? We’d love to have you!” and was sorry the instant she heard herself say it.“Yes mam,” he said in an abashed voice. “I would sher love to do that!”Joy had given him one look on being introduced to him and then throughout the meal had not glanced at him again. He had addressed several remarks to her, which she had pretended not to hear. Mrs. Hopewell could not understand deliberate rudeness, although she lived with it, and she felt she had always to overflow with hospitality to make up for Joy’s lack of courtesy. She urged him to talk about himself and he did. He said he was the seventh child of twelve and that his father had been crushed under a tree when he himself was eight years old. He had been crushed very badly, in fact, almost cut in two and was practically not recognizable. His mother had got along the best she could by hard working and she had always seen that her children went to Sunday School and that they read the Bible every evening. He was now nineteen years old and he had been selling Bibles for four months. In that time he had sold seventy-seven Bibles and had the promise of two more sales. He wanted to become a missionary because he thought that was the way you could do most for people. “He who losest his life shall find it,” he said simply and he was so sincere, so genuine and earnest that Mrs. Hopewell would not for the world have smiled. He prevented his peas from sliding onto the table by blocking them with a piece of bread which he later cleaned his plate with. She could see Joy observing sidewise how he handled his knife and fork and she saw too that every few minutes, the boy would dart a keen appraising glance at the girl as if he were trying to attract her attention.After dinner Joy cleared the dishes off the table and disappeared and Mrs. Hopewell was left to talk with him. He told her again about his childhood and his father’s accident and about various things that had happened to him. Every five minutes or so she would stifle a yawn. He sat for two hours until finally she told him she must go because she had an appointment in town. He packed his Bibles and thanked her and prepared to leave, but in。
弗兰纳里-奥康纳短篇小说中的哥特创新
弗兰纳里?奥康纳短篇小说中的哥特创新寿光人才信息港/摘要：弗兰纳里·奥康纳是美国二战后美国南方文学史上著名的哥特作家，有“哥特女神”的称号。
她小说中的哥特手法有对传统的哥特小说大师的继承，但更多体现的是她本人对哥特手法的创新，本论文主要通过分析她的五个短篇小说《好人难寻》、《瘸者先入》、《火中的圆圈》、《善良的乡下人》和《人造黑人》，挖掘出作品中所特有的哥特元素，领略奥康纳作为哥特女王的魅力，展现美国南方哥特小说特征。
弗兰纳里·奥康纳的短篇小说中，包含了很多哥特元素，这些哥特元素有对传统哥特元素的继承，但更多体现的是奥康纳对哥特文学的创新。
奥康纳对传统哥特文学的创新包含以下几点：（1）在哥特主题方面，奥康纳短篇中暴力和死亡不是为了增加故事的恐怖氛围，而是对作品中的负面人物的惩罚或报应；对奥康纳来说，暴力和犯罪是恶，自私，冷漠和高傲同样是人性中不可宽恕的恶；所以短片中的暴力和死亡就有着独特的目的和意义；另外，故事中的人与人之间的疏离、冲突、欺骗等主题也是对哥特主题的丰富和扩展；（2）在创作手法上，奥康纳采用了幽默、讽刺、类比、比喻等，尤其是一些巧妙的比喻，超出了恐怖元素，增强了故事的娱乐性，体现了奥康纳特有的幽默，这也是对哥特文学的创新；还有奥康纳所创作的哥特意象（畸形的身体，蟒蛇样的火车、身体上耶稣的刺青）也带给人奇特的阅读感受。
而作品中的哥特场景也转移到了；（3）在恐怖效果的设计上，作为一位宗教作家，作品中的恐怖部分就来自于主人公怕自己的行为不能的到上帝的救赎而产生的焦虑；而作品中的宗教立场也是很分明的，浓重的宗教说教特色也是在其它哥特作品中难以读到的；（4）在哥特人物的刻画上，奥康纳更是刻意选择那些身体残疾、行为怪诞的南方小镇人物作为讽刺对象，这些怪诞的人物制造了离奇的哥特情节，作者通过这些人物的描述给我们带来了一个光怪陆离的南方世界；（5）对人物内心的分析上，奥康纳着重对怪诞人物的人性的缺点进行解剖，详细描述人物内心的阴暗面以及其带来的严重后果，对人性缺陷给予了强烈地批判和打击。
美国文学作文教学教案模板
一、教学目标1. 培养学生对美国文学作品的阅读兴趣和鉴赏能力。
2. 提高学生的英语写作水平，使其能够运用英语表达对美国文学作品的看法和思考。
3. 增强学生的跨文化交际意识，了解美国文学背景和文化特点。
二、教学对象本教案适用于高中英语或大学英语专业学生。
三、教学课时2课时四、教学重点与难点1. 重点：对美国文学作品的阅读、理解、分析及英语写作技巧。
2. 难点：如何引导学生深入挖掘作品内涵，运用英语进行创作。
五、教学准备1. 教师准备：美国文学作品选读材料、PPT、作文评分标准。
2. 学生准备：预习美国文学作品，准备好相关笔记。
六、教学过程第一课时：1. 导入（1）教师简要介绍美国文学的发展历程，激发学生的兴趣。
（2）展示美国文学作品的相关图片，让学生对作品有一个直观的印象。
2. 阅读与讨论（1）学生分组阅读美国文学作品，如《老人与海》、《麦田里的守望者》等。
（2）各小组讨论作品的主题、人物形象、写作技巧等，分享阅读心得。
3. 课堂写作（1）教师根据作品内容，设定一个与作品相关的写作主题。
（2）学生运用英语进行作文创作，教师巡视指导。
4. 课堂展示与评价（1）学生展示自己的作文，其他同学进行评价。
（2）教师点评作文，指出优点和不足，给予修改建议。
第二课时：1. 复习与总结（1）教师回顾上一节课的内容，总结美国文学作品的写作特点。
（2）学生分享自己在写作过程中的心得体会。
2. 课后作业（1）学生根据所学知识，选取一部美国文学作品进行深入阅读。
（2）完成一篇关于该作品的作文，要求语言流畅、观点明确。
3. 课堂写作（1）教师根据课后作业内容，设定一个与作品相关的写作主题。
（2）学生运用英语进行作文创作，教师巡视指导。
4. 课堂展示与评价（1）学生展示自己的作文，其他同学进行评价。
（2）教师点评作文，指出优点和不足，给予修改建议。
七、教学反思1. 关注学生的阅读兴趣，引导学生深入挖掘作品内涵。
2. 注重培养学生的英语写作能力，提高学生的语言表达能力。
美国文学教案(1)
时间分配
Objectives:
1) To introduce students to fundamental questions in literary history and canon formation; 2) To trace the defining characteristics of various literary periods and movements; 3) To place literary texts and literary movements within their historical contexts; 4) To improve students’ abilities to read, write, speak publicly, and formulate analyses and arguments.
Lead-in:
1) What is literature in your mind? Why do you
教 学 personally read literature?
内 容 2) What sorts of literary works have you ever read?
的 重 3) What do you think is the function of literature? Or in
French, Warren. Twentieth Century American Literature. London: Macmillan,
1980. Hart, James D., ed. Oxford Companion to American Literature. 6th ed., New
or Statement, and Style
美国文学经典阅读教案教学设计
美国文学经典阅读教案教学设计一、教学目标通过本次阅读教学，学生应能够：1.了解美国文学经典作品的背景和意义；2.理解并分析美国文学作品的核心思想和文化特征；3.提升学生的阅读理解能力和文学鉴赏能力；4.培养学生对美国文学作品的兴趣和热爱。
二、教学内容1.美国文学经典阅读教案制定a.教学进度安排：根据学期时间，合理划分每个经典作品的阅读进度；b.教学资源准备：选择适合学生阅读的经典作品，准备相关辅助阅读资料；c.教学方法选择：采用多元化的教学方法，培养学生的主动学习能力；d.教学评价方式：设计合理的评价方式，评估学生的阅读理解和文学分析能力。
2.教学设计示例（以美国文学经典《傲慢与偏见》为例）a.导入环节：通过引入作品背景和作者简介，激发学生的阅读兴趣和好奇心；b.阅读指导：提供阅读指导问题，引导学生在阅读过程中理解并分析文本；c.课堂讨论：组织学生进行小组讨论，分享彼此的阅读体验和观点；d.文学分析：引导学生分析作品中的人物性格、情节发展等文学要素；e.作品评价：引导学生自主评价作品的价值和意义，激发批判性思维；f.延伸阅读：推荐其他与《傲慢与偏见》主题相关的美国文学经典作品。
三、教学方法1.合作学习法：通过小组讨论和合作学习活动，培养学生的合作意识和团队精神；2.问题导向法：通过提出问题引导学生主动思考和探索，促进深入学习；3.多媒体教学法：利用多媒体资源，丰富教学内容，提高学生的学习兴趣；4.批判性教学法：鼓励学生对经典作品进行批判性思考和评价，培养独立思考的能力。
四、教学评价1.阅读理解测试：定期组织学生进行相关阅读理解测试，评估学生的阅读理解能力；2.课堂表现评价：根据学生在课堂上的参与度、表达能力等进行评价；3.作品分析报告：要求学生针对指定的经典作品撰写分析报告，评估学生的文学分析能力。
五、教学资源1.经典文学作品：《傲慢与偏见》、《了不起的盖茨比》、《钢铁是怎样炼成的》等；2.辅助阅读资料：文学评论文章、作者简介、历史背景介绍等；3.多媒体资源：音频、视频、图片等多媒体资源，丰富教学内容。
美国文学名著推荐书目
美国文学名著推荐书目1. Autobiography《自传》Benjamin Franklin 本杰明·富兰克林2. Rip Van Winkle《瑞普·凡·温克尔》Washington Irving 华盛顿·欧文3. Leatherstocking Tales《皮袜子五部曲》James Fennimore Cooper 詹姆斯·菲尼莫·库柏4. The Scarlet Letter《红字》Nathaniel Hawthorne 纳萨尼尔·霍桑5. Moby Dick《白鲸》Herman Melville 赫尔曼·梅尔维尔6. The Fall of the House of Usher《厄舍古屋的倒塌》Edgar Allen Poe 埃德加·艾伦·坡7. The Rise of Silas Lapham《塞拉斯·拉帕姆的发迹》William Dean Howells威廉·迪恩·豪威尔斯8. Daisy Miller《戴希·米勒》Henry James亨利·詹姆斯9. The Portrait of a Lady《一个青年女人的画像》Henry James亨利·詹姆斯10. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn《哈克贝利·费恩历险记》Mark Twain马克·吐温11. McTeague《麦克提格》Frank Norris弗兰克·诺里斯12. The Call of the Wild《野性的呼唤》Jack London 杰克·伦敦13. The Gift of Magi《麦琪的礼物》O’ Henry 欧·亨利14. Sister Carrie《嘉莉妹妹》Theodore Dreiser 西奥多·德莱塞15. The Red Badge of Courage《红色英勇勋章》Stephen Crane 斯蒂芬·克莱恩16. The Jungle《丛林》Upton Sinclair厄普顿·辛克莱17. The Great Gatsby《了不起的盖茨比》F. Scott Fitzgerald 弗·斯科特·菲茨杰拉德18. The Sun Also Rises《太阳照常升起》Ernest Hemingway 厄内斯特·海明威19. The Old Man and the Sea《老人与海》Ernest Hemingway 厄内斯特·海明威20. Main Street《大街》Sinclair Lewis辛克莱·刘易斯21. O Pioneers《啊，拓荒者！》Willa Cather薇拉·凯瑟22. The Sound and the Fury《喧嚣与骚动》William Faulkner威廉·福克纳23. Go Down, Moses《去吧，摩西》William Faulkner威廉·福克纳24. Winesburg, Ohio《俄亥俄州的温斯堡》Sherwood Anderson 舍伍德·安德森25. Manhattan Transfer《曼哈顿中转站》John Dos Passos 约翰·多斯·帕索斯26. The Grapes of Wrath《愤怒的葡萄》John Steinbeck约翰·斯坦贝克27. Of Mice and Men《人与鼠》John Steinbeck约翰·斯坦贝克28. Ship of Fools《愚人船》Katherine Anne Porter 凯瑟琳·安·波特29. Catcher in the Rye《麦田里的守望者》Jerome David Salinger 杰罗姆·大卫·塞林格30. The Assistant《店员》Bernard Malamud 伯纳德·马拉默德31. A Good Man Is Hard to Find, and Other Stories《好人难寻》Flannery O’ Connor 弗兰纳里·奥康纳32. The Wapshot Chronicle《威普肖特编年史》John Cheever 约翰·契弗33. Rabbit, Run《兔子，跑吧》John Updike 约翰·厄普代克34. The Naked and the Dead《裸者与死者》Norman Mailer 诺曼·梅勒35. Catch-22《第二十二条军规》Joseph Heller约瑟夫·海勒36. Humboldt’s Gift《洪堡的礼物》Saul Bellow索尔·贝娄37. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest《飞越疯人院》Ken Kesey 肯·凯塞38. Slaughterhouse Five《五号屠场》Kurt V onnegut 库尔特·冯内古特39. Gravity’s Rainbow《万有引力之虹》Thomas Pynchon 托马斯·品钦40. The Good Earth《大地》Pearl Buck 赛珍珠41. The Hairy Ape《毛猿》Eugene O’Neil尤金·奥尼尔42. The Glass Menagerie《玻璃动物园》Tennessee Williams田纳西·威廉斯43. Death of a Salesman《推销员之死》Arthur Miller亚瑟·米勒44. Who’s Afrai d of Virginia Woolf?《谁害怕弗吉尼娅·沃尔夫？》Edward Albee爱德华·阿尔比45. Native Son《土生子》Richard Wright理查德·赖特46. Their Eyes Were Watching God《他们的眼睛望着上帝》Zora Neal Hurston 佐拉·尼尔·赫斯顿47. The Color Purple《紫色》Alice Walker 艾丽斯·沃克48. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings《我知道笼中鸟为何歌唱》Maya Angelou 玛雅·安吉罗49. Invisible Man《看不见的人》Ralph Ellison拉尔夫·艾利森50. Go Tell It on the Mountain《向苍天呼吁》James Baldwin詹姆斯·鲍德温51. The Bluest Eye《最蓝的眼睛》Toni Morrison 托妮·莫里森52. The Joy Luck Club《喜福会》Amy Tan 谭恩美53. The Woman Warrior《女勇士》Maxine Hong Kingston 汤亭亭54. Winter in the blood《血色隆冬》James Welch 詹姆斯·韦尔奇55. Ceremony《仪式》Leslie Marmon Silko 莱斯莉·席尔科。
无尽的追寻,虚妄的梦--《好人难寻》的结构主义解读
无果追 寻。本文 用格 雷马斯的结构主 义理论 去解读 弗兰纳里 ・ 奥康 纳的《 好 人难寻》 中主人公失败的追 寻， 并
分析 了作 品 中各人 物在主人公“ 不合 时宜的人” 对宗教 信仰和人生意 义的追 寻中所起 的否定性作用。
关键词 ： 《 好人 难寻》 ； 结构主 义； 追寻 ； 失败
题 —— 追 寻主 题 ， 以及 这种 追 寻 在 当今 社 会 惨遭
受 伤的国王 ， 恢 复大地 的生机 ； 否则一切 皆为徒
劳。基督教文 明是西方 文明的支柱 ， “ 尼采宣布 上帝 的死亡等于将其支柱摧毁 ， 西方文明也随之 坍塌 。 ” ［ ２ １ 因此 ， 人们失去了言行 的标准和精神 的 支柱 ， “ 现代人陷人前所未有 的孤独绝望的精神 荒原 ， 失去 了生 活的意义 和乐趣 ， 许多人对生活
中图分类号 ： Ｉ １ ０ ６ ． ４ 文献标识码 ： Ａ 文章编号 ： １ ６ ７ １ — ６ ４ ６ ９ （ ２ ０ １ ４ ） ０ １ — ０ ０ ０ ５ － ０ ４
弗 兰纳里 ・ 奥康纳是美 国当代一位很有独到
追 寻主 题 在 西方 文 学 中源远 流 长 ， 最早 的是
见地 的作 家 ， 她的文笔清 晰有力 ， 人物描 绘栩栩
之地 ， 为使 国王康复 ， 大地 回春 ， 骑士们 出发寻找 圣杯 。Ｔ ・ Ｓ ・ 爱略特的长诗《 荒原》 创作灵感便来 自于此渔王受伤 ， 王国变成荒原的情节 。寻找圣
杯 的人不一定 要拿到圣杯 ， 但是他要找对地点 ， 提 问有关圣杯 的正确 问题 ， 正确的提问便能治愈
所 接受的宗教信仰与社会现实之 间的矛 盾所引 起 的内心冲突等 。奥康纳在虔诚 的天 主教氛 围
义提 出疑问， 但可惜的是他 的疑问不仅没有使他
美国文学教案
外国语学院2012—2013学年第二学期课程教学大纲一、课程的性质、目的与任务本课程属于有关英语语言及运用的英语专业知识课，该课程是英语专业三年级的学生掌握了英语技能的基本综合训练后，旨在扩大英语语言文化方面的知识性课程。
美国文学课程的主要目的在于让学生熟悉现美国文学中重要作家有代表性的作品，了解自十八世纪至二十世纪涌现出来的有重要影响的文学流派和写作技巧。
通过学习、欣赏一些文学佳作，提高学生的文学鉴赏能力和阅读、写作等语言技巧，并且加强他们对文学本质的意识，即通过一个民族的文学作品来了解该民族的历史发展、各个时期的文化动态和价值取向。
同时，通过学习该课程，学生的思想认识水平和是非明辨能力将得到提高。
二、教学基本要求（1）熟悉各个历史时期的文学流派，包括启蒙主义，浪漫主义，超验主义，现实主义，自然主义，意象派和现代主义等。
通过梳理美国文学史的复杂成分和发展流变，使学生应对美国文学的发展过程有一定的了解，理解和把握美国文化所体现的精神传统。
（2）熟悉在各个时期文学流派诞生时的人文背景。
能了解一些主要文学现象产生的原因和背景，能读懂文字背后深刻的含义，提高阅读和鉴赏能力，进一步提高英语语言水平。
（3) 熟悉各位作家的作品及其代表作。
（4）基本能够独立地欣赏文学作品的思想和艺术魅力。
三、教材名称（编著者.名称.出版社，出版时间）刘荐波主编，《英美文学史概述及作品选读（美国部分）》，高等教育出版社，2010年3月版四、课程考核说明及要求测试与考核是了解学生学习情况、教师教学质量重要手段。
测试必须具有科学性、客观性和可行性。
测试应既有助于提高学生的语言运用能力，又有助于培养学生的思维分析能力。
在美国文学课的测试中，既要包括文学史方面的客观问题及对文学作品的语言方面的理解问题；同时应注重检验学生分析问题和解决问题的能力。
测试中的客观题和主观题应保持合理科学的比例。
闭卷笔试。
平时成绩占30%，期末考试成绩占70%目录引言教案引言讲稿内容Introduction to the CourceQuestion 1: What is literature？a. Literature includes many different types, such as drama (opera, play), poetry (sonnet, heroic couplet), prose, fiction, etc.b. Literature is a reflection of our life and the society. It is a part of history and culture. Try to think about everything in the cultural background. As a rule, there is something the writer tries to eulogize or praise in his or her writing.Question 2: Why should we learn literature?a. Literature is important in our life, and can help us, especially girls have strong mind. When you are in trouble, you can learn the optimistic life attitudes from the novel and know what you should do and what you should not do.b. Our major is English language and literature;Question 3: How do we appreciate literature?3.1. Analytical approachThe main concern of this approach is the basic elements of literary forms, such as a story, a poem, a play, or an essay.For example, the basic elements of fiction comprise plot, character, setting, point of view, theme, symbol, allegory, style, and tone.As for poetry, it also contains the critical terms of basic elements: meter, rhyme, stanza, form and etc. The basic elements in a drama include dialogue, story, character, and action. All these elements relate to each other and integrate into a whole.3.2. Thematic approachIt is mainly concerned with the ideas and the themes of a literary writing. We use this approach to dig out what is represented about life and society in a literary work, such as the meaning of existence, the nature of humanity, the reality of love, death, society, individual, and so on.3.3. Historical approachEvery literary work bears the unmistakable imprint of the period and culture in which it is written. Furthermore, we will be aware that in every historical period there is a dominant literary school or trend that influences the author‘s outlook on life and society, his writing style and techniques.Question 4: Basic information about the course?The function of this course is to teach the students how to explicate, that is, how to read literature. The mastery of this skill can teach students never to take for granted anything in words. At the completion of this course, you will be able to read the original literary works, comprehend English literature and culture, and improve the skills of literature criticism under the teacher‘s guidance.It includes lectures on a brief history of English literature, literature analysis and approaches of cultural criticism.Lecture One Historical Background（见PPT Lecture One）Lecture Two Basic Knowledge of LiteratureI. Definition of Literature1. Literature （narrow sense）: all writings in prose or verse, especially those of an imaginative or critical character, distinguished from scientific writing.2. Literature (broad sense): printed matter of any kind.II. Forms or Types of Literature (Genre) （体裁）1. One way of classification1) poetrypoem 诗歌epic 史诗lyric poetry 抒情诗narrative poetry 叙事诗dramatic poetry 戏剧诗poetry in prose 散文诗ballad 民谣folk song 民歌pastoral 牧歌idyll 田园诗sonnet 商籁体ode 颂歌elegy 挽诗/挽歌2) prosetale 故事fairy tale/mythology 神话故事allegory 寓言fable （动物）寓言biography 传记autobiography 自传fiction 小说novel 长篇小说novellet 中篇小说short story 短篇小说science fiction 科幻小说non-fiction 非小说trilogy 三部曲essay 散文satire 讽刺文sketch 速写travels 游记detective story 侦探小说horror story 恐怖小说Gothic story 哥特式小说romance 传奇故事/浪漫故事legend 传奇historical novel/histories 历史小说3) dramacomedy 喜剧tragedy 悲剧tragicomedy 悲喜剧monologue 独角剧one-act play 独幕剧2. The other way of classification1) narrative literature 2) lyric literature 3) dramatic literatureIII. Elements of Literature1. Elements that make up a workgenre/form of literature/ type of literature 体裁subject matter 题材theme/motif 主题(writing) material (写作)素材plot 情节character 人物protagonist 主要人物hero 男主人公heroine 女主人公antihero 反英雄(a protagonist who lacks the attributes that make a heroic figure, as nobility of mind and spirit, a life or attitude marked by action or purpose, and the like), antagonist 反面人物background 背景setting （地理）背景conflict 冲突climax 高潮prelude 序曲scene 场act 幕threads 线索verse 诗句canto 诗章stanza 诗节line 诗行rhyme/rime 韵rhyme scheme 韵律alliteration 头韵（体）Consonance (end rhyme) 尾韵heroic couplet 英雄偶句体rhythm 节奏meter/metre 节拍2. Ways of writingCharacterize (v.t.) 人物刻画characterization (n.)portray (v.t.) 描写portrayal (n.)description 描写narrate (v.t.) 叙述narration (n.) narrator 叙述人point of view 视角(first-person ～, second-person ～, third-person ～, intrusive/authoritative ～, unintrusive/impersonal/objective ～, omniscient ～）monologue/soliloquy 独白flashback 倒叙stream of consciousness 意识流allusion 典故rhetorical devices 修辞手法(rhetoric 修辞)figures of speech 修辞格intertextuality 互文性and hypertextuality 超文性:（Intertextuality is the shaping of texts‘ meanings by other texts. It can include an author‘s borrowing and transformation of a prior text.）Hypertextuality is a postmodern theory of the inter-connectedness of all literary works and their interpretation. The two are closely related to pastiche and parody. （―互文‖是局部的、个别的、零星的，―超文‖则是整体的、派生的、外化或异化的。
Unit10Americanliterature教案示例（1）
Unit10Americanliterature教案示例（1）Unit10 American literature 教案示例（1）Warming up, listening and speaking(一)主题任务(Core tasks)根据本单元的中心主题，建议设计以下主题任务。
美国文学手册活动时间：在学完本单元之后活动形式：个人活动、小组活动、全班活动语言知识要求：本单元词汇和日常交际用语语言技能要求：听、说、读、写活动过程：1．选择内容。
所要编写的手册为“美国文学”专辑。
活动步骤如下：1)把全班分成几个小组，每个小组选择一个方面的内容进行研究；2)小组的每个成员围绕小组的中心内容，自己选择表现形式，搜集并整理有关信息；3)在小组范围内交流有关内容，相互间提出修改意见并做适当修改。
2．选择栏目。
例如：1)文学主题：American Indians，Slavery，Pioneers，the American Civil War等；2)原著节选：诗歌、小说、戏剧等；3)电影欣赏：Gone with the Wind, The old Man and the Sea 等；4)著名作家：Dudley Randall，Jack London，Mark Twain，Ernest Hemingway等。
3．编辑制作：1)每组选择一个代表向全班通报该组的进展情况，汇报内容包括：搜集到的主要内容(提纲或题目)、采取的主要形式等；2)通过交流和讨论，把各组内容在全班范围内分类整合。
根据形式与内容，决定所出手册的辑数。
每辑都必须内容丰富，形式多样。
3)参与同一辑的同学为一组，讨论版式、标题，并进行分工，其中有一人担任主编，一人担任美编，所有同学都要参与抄写或打印；4)在全班进行美国文学手册评比。
(二)热身(Warming up)该部分教学要注意以下几个方面：1．诵读。
要求学生反复朗诵该诗，甚至可以要求学生背诵。
熟话说得好，“书读三遍，其义自现”。
评《好人难寻》屠珍译本中的得与失
评《好人难寻》屠珍译本中的得与失作者：李云龙来源：《校园英语·下旬》2020年第04期【摘要】本文简要评述了屠珍所翻译的A Good Man is Hard to Find的汉译本《好人难寻》。
文章从信息性维度指出了译本在人物刻画上的优点，同时，也从互文性维度指出了译本在还原文化意向中所存在的一些不足之处。
【关键词】翻译;信息性;互文性【作者简介】李云龙，武汉工程大学。
一、概述《好人难寻》的原作作者弗兰纳里·奥康纳（Mary Flannery O’Connor）是美国著名小说家、评论家，是美国文学的重要代言人。
奥康纳是南方作家，其作品具有南方哥特式风格，作品中常常审视道德伦理等方面的问题。
《好人难寻》这篇小说集中体现了奥康纳的南方情节、信仰和写作特点，是奥康纳的代表作之一。
本文以老奶奶的视角展开叙述，讲述了贝雷一家在旅行途中，在离开塔餐厅后，阴差阳错地遭遇逃狱的“不合时宜的人”及其同伙。
在小说中，作者对人物的刻画十分精彩到位，通过人物间平淡的对话来体现怪诞的社会现象，形成强烈的反差。
另外，小说中选用的地名具有特殊文化含义，一家人旅行途中地名的变化暗示了小说中人物的命运，以此构建出一个反讽的语境，并凸显小说人物最终的自我救赎。
本文将从信息性维度（informativity），简要分析屠珍译本中人物刻画之所得，分析译者是如何通过增译来显化原著中的隐含信息，从而实现更为生动鲜明的人物刻画，凸显社会环境和人物关系;以互文性（intertextuality）的角度，简要分析跨文化交际背景下屠珍译本在表现原著隐含的文化意向上之所失。
二、人物刻画之所得《好人难寻》原著使用了大量笔墨来描写人物的形态及对话，以此体现当时南方社会中的偏见、冷漠与怪诞。
但原著中大多将这样的信息作为二级信息隐含在人物对话或肢体语言中。
而屠珍译本在人物的刻画上，通过频繁地使用增译，将隐含的信息显化，以便于读者对原著人物刻画加以理解。
最新弗兰纳里奥康纳美国文学教学教案
最新弗兰纳里奥康纳美国文学教学教案American writer, particularly acclaimed for her stories which combined comic with tragic and brutal. Along with authors like Carson McCullers and Eudora Welty, Flannery O'Connor belonged to the Southern Gothic tradition that focused on the decaying South and its damned people. O'Connor's body of work was small, consisting of only thirty-one stories, two novels, and some speeches and letters."Does one's integrity ever lie in what he is not able to do? I think that usually it does, for free will does not mean one will, but many wills conflicting in one man, Freedom cannot be conceived simply." (from Wise Blood, 1952)Flannery O'Connor was born in Savannah, Georgia, the only child of a Catholic family. The region was part of the 'Christ-haunted' Bible belt of the Southern States. The spiritual heritage of the region shaped profoundly O'Connor's writing as described in her essay "The Catholic Novelist in the Protestant South" (1969). O'Connor's father, Edward F. O'Connor, was a realtor owner. He worked later for a construction company and died in 1941. Her mother, Regina L. (Cline) O'Connor, came from a prominent family in the state - her father had been a mayor of Milledgeville for many years.When O'Connor was 12, her family moved to Milledgeville, her mother's birthplace. She attended the Peabody High School and enrolled in the Georgia State College for Women. At school she edited the college magazine and graduated in 1945 with an A.B. O'Connor then continued her studies at the University of Iowa, where she attended writer's workshops conducted by Paul Engle. At the age of 21 she published her first short story, 'The Geranium', in Accent. In the following year she received the degree of Master of Fine Arts in Literature. In 1947 she lived for seven months at Yaddo, Saratoga Springs, N.Y., an estate left by the Trask family for writers, painters and musicians.O'Connor published four chapters of Wise Blood in Mademoiselle, Sewanee Review, and Partisan Review in 1948 and 1949. The complete novel appeared 1952. It dealt with a young religious enthusiast, who attempts to establish a church without Christ. The Signet paperback version of the book advertised it as "A Searching Novel of Sin and Redemption". O'Connor's second novel, The Violent Bear It Away (1960), had a related subject matter. The protagonist is Francis Marion Tarwater who begins his ministry in his youth. He baptizes and drowns Bishop, his uncle's idiot son. Old Tarwater warns his grand-nephew: "'You are the kind of boy,' the old man said, 'that the devil is always going to be offering to assists, to give you a smoke or a drink or a ride, and to ask you your bidnis. You had better mind how you take up with strangers.'" Young Tarwater sets fire to his own woods to clean himself, and like his great-uncle, a mad prophet, he finally becomes a prophet and a madman. O'Connor once explained that "I can write about Protestant believers better than Catholicbelievers - because they express their belief in diverse kinds of dramatic action which is obvious enough for me to catch. I can't write about anything subtle."The young protagonist of Wise Blood, Hazel Mote, returns from the army with his faith gone awry. He founds the Church Without Christ, wears a preacher's bright blue suit and a preacher's black hat. He is accompanied by bizarre villains. Asa Hawks pretends to have blinded himself. Sabbath Lily, his daughter, turns into a monster of sexual voracity. The fox-faced young Enoch Emery steals from a museum a mummy, which he thinks of as "the new jesus." Enoch knows things because "he had wise blood like his daddy." Eventually Enoch finds his religious fulfillment dressed in a stolen gorilla costume. Hazel buys an old Essex automobile, his own religious mystery: "Nobody with a good car needs to be justified." Haze murders the False Prophet, his rival, by running over him with his second-hand Essex, and faces his cul-de-sac.John Huston read the novel in 1978 - he received a copy of it from Michael Fitzgerald, whose father was O'Connor's literary executor. Against all odds, Michael Fitzgerald got the money for the production, some $2,000,000; the screenplay was written by Michael and his brother, Benedict, and everyone worked for a minimum wage. Most of the film was shot in Macon, Georgia."There were seven outstanding performances in Wise Blood. Only three of those seven actors have any reputation to speak of: Brad Dourif, Ned Beatty and Harry Dean Stanton. The other four are unknowns. They are all great stars, as far as I'm concerned. Nothing would make me happier than to see this picture gain popular acceptance and turn a profit. It would prove something. I'm not sure what... but something." ( John Huston in An Open Book, 1988)In 1950 O'Connor suffered her first attack from disseminated lupus, a debilitating blood disease that had killed her father. She returned to Milledgeville where she lived with her mother on her dairy farm. In spite of the illness, O'Connor continued to write and occasionally she lectured about creative writing in colleges. "I write every day for at least two hours," she said in an interview in 1952, "and I spend the rest of my time largely in the society of ducks.""I am making out fine in spite of any conflicting stories," she wrote to Robert Lowell. "I have enough energy to write with and as that is all I have any business doing anyhow, I can with one eye squinted take it all as a blessing. What you have to measure out, you come to observe more closely, or so I tell myself." O'Connor read such thinkers as Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (1881-195), George Santayana (1863-1952), and Hannah Arendt (1906-1975). In New York she had befriended with Robert and Sally Fitzgerald, two other literary Roman Catholics. She lived and wrote in their house in Ridgefield, Connecticut until illness redirected her life in 1951. O'Connor named Robert Fitzgerald as her literary executor. He selected and edited with his wife a volume of O'Connor's occasional prose, which was published in 1969 under the title Mystery and Manners.From around 1955 O'Connor was forced to use crutches. An abdominal operation reactivated the lupus and O'Connor died on August 3, 1964, at the age of 39. Her second collection of short stories,Everything That Rises Must Converge, was published posthumously in 1965. The Complete Short Stories(1971) contained several stories that had not previously appeared in book form. O'Connor's letters, published as The Habit of Being(1979), reveal her conscious craftsmanship in writing and the role of Roman Catholicism in her life.O'Connor's short stories have been considered her finest work. With A Good Man Is Hard to Find, and Other Stories (1955) she came to be regarded as a master of the form. The cover art of the 1956 Signet paperback edition featured an encounter with a man in a dark suit and voluptuous woman. In the title story a grandmother, her son and daughter-in-law and their three children, are on a car journey. They encounter an escaped criminal called the Misfit and his two killers, Hiram and Bobby Lee. The family is casually wiped out by them when the grandmother recognizes the Misfit from his ''Wanted'' poster. The hallucinating grandmother murmurs: "Why you're one of my babies. You're one of my own children!" The Misfit shoots her and says: "She would of been a good woman if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life."'A View of the Woods' was a violent and perhaps pointless tale of the seventy-nine-year-old Mr. Fortune and his nine-year-old granddaughter, Mary Fortune Pitts, both selfish and mean. The story ends in a fight. The grandfather smashes Mary's head several times against a rock, killing her. Exhausted, he manages to take a few steps, has a final "view of the woods," and dies of a heart attack.In the story "Good Country People" a young woman with a sense of moral superiority experiences her downfall. The protagonist, Joy Hopewell, has an artificial leg as a result of a hunting accident. She has a Ph.D. in philosophy and she has changed her name legally from Joy to Hulga. Joy-Hulga tries to seduce a Bible salesman, a simple-seeming country boy, with the obvious phallic name of Manley Pointer. He turns out to be another 'Hazel Motes' and disappears with her artificial leg. "The Artificial Nigger" is a lesson about injustice. However, O'Connor's short stories have not so strong theological basis as her novels. They often focus on grotesque characters, have a crisp humor, and are open to interpretation. Recurrent images include the flaming suns, mutilated eyes, peacocks - she raised them in Milledgeville - colorful shirts, and bright blue suits and stern black hats of preachers.GOOD COUNTRY PEOPLEBESIDES the neutral expression that she wore when she was alone, Mrs. Freeman had two others, forward and reverse, that she used for all her human dealings. Her forward expression was steady and driving like the advance of a heavy truck. Her eyes never swerved to left or right but turned as the story turned as if they followed a yellow line down the center of it. She seldom used the other expression because it was not often necessary forher to retract a statement, but when she did, her face came to a complete stop, there was an almost imperceptible movement of her black eyes, during which they seemed to be receding, and then the observer would see that Mrs. Freeman, though she might stand there as real as several grain sacks thrown on top of each other, was no longer there in spirit. As for getting anything across to her when this was the case, Mrs. Hopewell had given it up. She might talk her head off. Mrs. Freeman could never be brought to admit herself wrong to any point. She would stand there and if she could be brought to say anything, it was something like, “Well, I wouldn’t of said it was and I wouldn’t of said it wasn’t? or letting her gaze range over the top kitchen shelf where there was an assortment of dusty bottles, she might remark, “I see you ain’t ate many of them figs you put up last summer.”They carried on their most important business in the kitchen at breakfast. Every morning Mrs. Hopewell got up at seven o’clock and lit her gas heater and Joy’s. Joy was her daughter, a large blonds girl who had an artificial leg. Mrs. Hopewell thought of her as a child though she was thirty-two years old and highly educated. Joy would get up while her mother was eating and lumber into the bathroom and slam the door, and before long, Mrs. Freeman would arrive at the back door. Joy would hear her mother call, ‘Come on in,’ and then they would talk for a while in low voices that were indistinguishable in the bathroom. By the time Joy came in, they had usually finished the weather report and were on one or the other of Mrs. Freeman’s daughters, Glynese or Carramae. Joy called them Glycerin and Caramel. Glynese, a redhead, was eighteen and had many admirers; Carramae, a blonde, was only fifteen but already married and pregnant. She could not keep anything on her stomach. Every morning Mrs. Freeman told Mrs. Hopewell how many times she had vomited since the last report.Mrs. Hopewell liked to tell people that Glynese and Carramae were two of the finest girls she knew and that Mrs. Freeman was a lady and that she was never ashamed to take her anywhere or introduce her to anybody they might meet. Then she would tell how she had happened to hire the Freemans in the first place and how they were a godsend to her and how she had had them four years. The reason for her keeping them so long was that they were not trash. They were good country people. She had telephoned the man whose name they had given as reference and he had told her that Mr. Freeman was a good farmer but that his wife was the nosiest woman ever to walk the earth. “She’s got to be into everything,”the man said. “If she don’t get there before the dust settles, you can bet she’s dead, that’s all. She’ll want to know all your business. I can stand him real good,” he had said, “but me nor my wife neither could have stood that woman one more minute on this place.” That had put Mrs. Hopewell off for a few days.She had hired them in the end because there were no other applicants but she had made up her mind beforehand exactly how she would handle the woman. Since she was the type who had to be into everything, then, Mrs. Hopewell had decided, she would not only let her be into everything, she would see to it that she was into everything —she would give her the responsibility of everything, she would put her in charge. Mrs. Hopewell had no bad qualities of her own but she was able to use other people’s in such a constructive way that she had kept them four years.Nothing is perfect. This was one of Mrs. Hopewell’s favorite sayings. Another was: that is life! And still another, the most important, was: well, other people have theiropinions too. She would make these statements, usually at the table, in a tone of gentle insistence as if no one held them but her, and the large hulking Joy, whose constant outrage had obliterated every expression from her face, would stare just a little to the side of her, her eyes icy blue, with the look of someone who had achieved blindness by an act of will and means to keep it.When Mrs. Hopewell said to Mrs. Freeman that life was like that, Mrs. Freeman would say, “I always said so myself.”Nothing had been arrived at by anyone that had not first been arrived at by her. She was quicker than Mr. Freeman. When Mrs. Hopewell said to her after they had been on the place for a while, “You know, you’re the wheel behind the wheel,” and winked, Mrs. Freeman had said, “I know it. I’ve always been quick. It’s some that are quicker than others.”“Everybody is different,” Mrs. Hopewell said.“Yes, most people is,” Mrs. Freeman said.“It takes all kinds to make the world.”“I always said it did myself.”The girl was used to this kind of dialogue for breakfast and more of it for dinner; sometimes they had it for supper too. When they had no guest they ate in the kitchen because that was easier. Mrs. Freeman always managed to arrive at some point during the meal and to watch them finish it. She would stand in the doorway if it were summer but in the winter she would stand with one elbow on top of the refrigerator and look down at them, or she would stand by the gas heater, lifting the back of her skirt slightly. Occasionally she would stand against the wall and roll her head from side to side. At no time was she in any hurry to leave. All this was very trying on Mrs. Hopewell but she was a woman of great patience. She realized that nothing is perfect and that in the Freemans she had good country people and that if, in this day and age, you get good country people, you had better hang onto them.She had had plenty of experience with trash. Before the Freemans she had averaged one tenant family a year. The wives of these farmers were not the kind you would want to be around you for very long. Mrs. Hopewell, who had divorced her husband long ago, needed someone to walk over the fields with her; and when Joy had to be impressed for these services, her remarks were usually so ugly and her face so glum that Mrs. Hopewell would say, “If you can’t come pleasantly, I don’t want you at all,”to which the girl, standing square and rigid-shouldered with her neck thrust slightly forward, would reply, “If you want me, here I am —LIKE I AM.”Mrs. Hopewell excused this attitude because of the leg (which had been shot off in a hunting accident when Joy was ten). It was hard for Mrs. Hopewell to realize that her child was thirty-two now and that for more than twenty years she had had only one leg. She thought of her still as a child because it tore her heart to think instead of the poor stout girl in her thirties who had never danced a step or had any normal good times. Her name was really Joy but as soon as she was twenty-one and away from home, she had had it legally changed. Mrs. Hopewell was certain that she had thought and thought until she had hit upon the ugliest name in any language. Then she had gone and had the beautiful name, Joy, changed without telling her mother until after she had done it. Her legal name was Hulga.When Mrs. Hopewell thought the name, Hulga, she thought of the broad blank hull of abattleship. She would not use it. She continued to call her Joy to which the girl responded but in a purely mechanical way.Hulga had learned to tolerate Mrs. Freeman who saved her from taking walks with her mother. Even Glynese and Carramae were useful when they occupied attention that might otherwise have been directed at her. At first she had thought she could not stand Mrs. Freeman for she had found it was not possible to be rude to her. Mrs. Freeman would take on strange resentments and for days together she would be sullen but the source of her displeasure was always obscure; a direct attack, a positive leer, blatant ugliness to her face —these never touched her. And without warning one day, she began calling her Hulga.She did not call her that in front of Mrs. Hopewell who would have been incensed but when she and the girl happened to be out of the house together, she would say something and add the name Hulga to the end of it, and the big spectacled Joy-Hulga would scowl and redden as if her privacy had been intruded upon. She considered the name her personal affair. She had arrived at it first purely on the basis of its ugly sound and then the full genius of its fitness had struck her. She had a vision of the name working like the ugly sweating Vulcan who stayed in the furnace and to whom, presumably, the goddess had to come when called. She saw it as the name of her highest creative act. One of her major triumphs was that her mother had not been able to turn her dust into Joy, but the greater one was that she had been able to turn it herself into Hulga. However, Mrs. Freeman’s relish for using the name only irritated her. It was as if Mrs. Freeman’s beady steel-pointed eyes had penetrated far enough behind her face to reach some secret fact. Something about her seemed to fascinate Mrs. Freeman and then one day Hulga realized that it was the artificial leg. Mrs. Freeman had a special fondness for the details of secret infections, hidden deformities, assaults upon children. Of diseases, she preferred the lingering or incurable. Hulga had heard Mrs. Hopewell give her the details of the hunting accident, how the leg had been literally blasted off, how she had never lost consciousness. Mrs. Freeman could listen to it any time as if it had happened an hour ago.When Hulga stumped into the kitchen in the morning (she could walk without making the awful noise but she made it —Mrs. Hopewell was certain —because it was ugly-sounding), she glanced at them and did not speak. Mrs. Hopewell would be in her red kimono with her hair tied around her head in rags. She would be sitting at the table, finishing her breakfast and Mrs. Freeman would be hanging by her elbow outward from the refrigerator, looking down at the table. Hulga always put her eggs on the stove to boil and then stood over them with her arms folded, and Mrs. Hopewell would look at her —a kind of indirect gaze divided between her and Mrs. Freeman —and would think that if she would only keep herself up a little, she wouldn’t be so bad looking. There was nothing wrong with her face that a pleasant expression wouldn’t help. Mrs. Hopewell said that people who looked on the bright side of things would be beautiful even if they were not.Whenever she looked at Joy this way, she could not help but feel that it would have been better if the child had not taken the Ph.D. It had certainly not brought her out any and now that she had it, there was no more excuse for her to go to school again. Mrs. Hopewell thought it was nice for girls to go to school t o have a good time but Joy had “gone through.”Anyhow, she would not have been strong enough to go again. The doctors had told Mrs.Hopewell that with the best of care, Joy might see forty-five. She had a weak heart. Joy had made it plain that if it had not been for this condition, she would be far from these red hills and good country people. She would be in a university lecturing to people who knew what she was talking about. And Mrs. Hopewell could very well picture here there, looking like a scarecrow and lecturing to more of the same. Here she went about all day in a six-year-old skirt and a yellow sweat shirt with a faded cowboy on a horse embossed on it. She thought this was funny; Mrs. Hopewell thought it was idiotic and showed simply that she was still a child. She was brilliant but she didn’t have a grain of sense. It seemed to Mrs. Hopewell that every year she grew less like other people and more like herself —bloated, rude, and squint-eyed. And she said such strange things! To her own mother she had said—without warning, without excuse, standing up in the middle of a meal with her face purple and her mouth half full—Woman! Do you ever look inside? Do you ever look inside and see what you are not?God!” she had cried sinking down again and staring at her plate, “Malebranche was right: we are not our own light. We are not our own light!”Mrs. Hopewell had no idea to this day what brought that on. She had only made the remark, hoping Joy would take it in, that a smile never hurt anyone. The girl had taken the Ph.D. in philosophy and this left Mrs. Hopewell at a complete loss. You could say, “My daughter is a nurse,”or “My daughter is a school teacher,?”or even, “My daughter is a chemical engineer.”You could not say, “My daughter is a philosopher.”That was something that had ended with the Greeks and Romans. All day Joy sat on her neck in a deep chair, reading. Sometimes she went for walks but she didn’t like dogs or cats or birds or flowers or nature or nice young men. She looked at nice young men as if she could smell their stupidity.One day Mrs. Hopewell had picked up one of the books the girl had just put down and opening it at random, she read, “Science, on the other hand, has to assert its soberness and seriousness afresh and declare that it is concerned solely with what-is. Nothing—how can it be for science anything but a horror and a phantasm? If science is right, then one thing stands firm: science wishes to know nothing of nothing. Such is after all the strictly scientific approach to Nothing. We know it by wishing to know nothing of Nothing.”These words had been underlined with a blue pencil and they worked on Mrs. Hopewell like some evil incantation in gibberish. She shut the book quickly and went out of the room as if she were having a chill.This morning when the girl came in, Mrs. Freeman was on Carramae. “She thrown up four times after supper,”she said, “and was up twice in the night after three o’clock. Yesterday she didn’t do nothing but ramble in the bureau drawer. All she did. Stand up there and see what she could run up on.”“She’s got to eat,” Mrs. Hopewell muttered, sipping her coffee, while she watched Joy’s back at the stove. She was wondering what the child had said to the Bible salesman. She could not imagine what kind of a conversation she could possibly have had with him.He was a tall gaunt hatless youth who had called yesterday to sell them a Bible. He had appeared at the door, carrying a large black suitcase that weighted him so heavily on one side that he had to brace himself against the door facing. He seemed on the point of collapse but he said in a cheerful voice, ?Good morning, Mrs. Cedars!? and set the suitcase down on the mat. He was not a bad-looking young man though he had on a bright blue suitand yellow socks that were not pulled up far enough. He had prominent face bones and a streak of sticky-looking brown hair falling across his forehead.“I’m Mrs. Hopewell,” she said.“Oh!” he said, pretending to look puzzled but with his eyes sparkling, “I saw it said ‘The Cedars’ on the mailbox so I thought you was Mrs. Cedars!” and he burst out in a pleasant laugh. He picked up the satchel and under cover of a pant, he fell forward into her hall. It was rather as if the suitcase had moved first, jerking him after it. “Mrs. Hopewell!” he said and grabbed her hand. “I hope you are well!” and he laughed again and then all at once his face sobered completely. He paused and gave her a straight earnest look and said, “Lady, I’ve come to speak of serious things.”“Well, come in,”she muttered, none too pleased because her dinner was almost ready. He came into the parlor and sat down on the edge of a straight chair and put the suitcase between his feet and glanced around the room as if he were sizing her up by it. Her silver gleamed on the two sideboards; she decided he had never been in a room as elegant as this.“Mrs. Hopewell,” he began, using her name in a way that sounded almost intimate, ?I know you believe in Chrustian service.?“Well, yes,” she murmured.“I know,” he said and paused, looking very wise with his head cocked on one side, “that you’re a good woman. Friends have told me.”Mrs. Hopewell never liked to be taken for a fool. “What are you selling?” she asked.“Bibles,” the young man said and his eye raced around the room before he added, “I see you have no family Bible in your parlor, I see that is the one lack you got!”Mrs. Hopewell could not say, “My daughter is an atheist and won’t let me keep the Bible in the parlor.”She said, stiffening slightly, “I keep my Bible by my bedside.”This was not the truth. It was in the attic somewhere.“Lady,” he said, “the word of God ought to be in the parlor.”“Well, I think that’s a matter of taste,” she began, “I think…”“Lady,”he said, “for a Chrustian, the word of God ought to be in every room in the house besides in his heart. I know you’re a Chrustian because I can see it in every line of your face.”She stood up and said, “Well, young man, I don’t want to buy a Bible and I smell my dinner burning.”He didn’t get up. He began to twist his hands and looking down at them, he said softly, “Well lady, I’ll tell you the truth—not many people want to buy one nowadays and besides, I know I’m real simple. I don’t know how to say a thing but to say it. I’m just a country boy.”He glanced up into her unfriendly face. “People like you don’t like to fool with country people like me!”“Why!” she cried, “good country people are the salt of the earth! Besides, we all have different ways of doing, it takes all kinds to make the world go ’round. That’s life!”“You said a mouthful,” he said.“Why, I think there aren’t enough good country people in the world!”she said, stirred. “I think that’s what’s wrong with it!”His face had brightened. “I didn’t intraduce myself,”he said. “I’m Manley Pointerfrom out in the country around Willohobie, not even from a place, just from near a place.”“You wait a minute,” she said. “I have to see about my dinner.”She went out to the kitchen and found Joy standing near the door where she had been listening.“Get rid of the salt of the earth,? she said, “and let’s eat.”Mrs. Hopewell gave her a pained look and turned the heat down under the vegetables. “I can’t be rude to anybody,” she murmured and went back into the parlor.He had opened the suitcase and was sitting with a Bible on each knee.“I appreciate your honesty,” he said. “You don’t see any more real honest people unless you go way out in the country.”“I know,”she said, ‘real genuine folks!’Through the crack in the door she heard a groan.“I guess a lot of boys come telling you they’re working their way through college,” he said, “but I’m not going to tell you that. Somehow,”he said, “I don’t want to go to college. I want to devote my life to Chrustian service. See,” he said, lowering his voice, “I got this heart condition. I may not live long. When you know it’s something wrong with you and you may not live long, well then, lady?”He paused, with his mouth open, and stared at her.He and Joy had the same condition! She knew that her eyes were filling with tears but she collected herself quickly and murmured, “Won’t you stay for dinner? We’d love to have you!” and was sorry the instant she heard herself say it.“Yes mam,” he said in an abashed voice. “I would sher love to do that!”Joy had given him one look on being introduced to him and then throughout the meal had not glanced at him again. He had addressed several remarks to her, which she had pretended not to hear. Mrs. Hopewell could not understand deliberate rudeness, although she lived with it, and she felt she had always to overflow with hospitality to make up for Joy’s lack of courtesy. She urged him to talk about himself and he did. He said he was the seventh child of twelve and that his father had been crushed under a tree when he himself was eight years old. He had been crushed very badly, in fact, almost cut in two and was practically not recognizable. His mother had got along the best she could by hard working and she had always seen that her children went to Sunday School and that they read the Bible every evening. He was now nineteen years old and he had been selling Bibles for four months. In that time he had sold seventy-seven Bibles and had the promise of two more sales. He wanted to become a missionary because he thought that was the way you could do most for people. “He who losest his life shall find it,” he said simply and he was so sincere, so genuine and earnest that Mrs. Hopewell would not for the world have smiled. He prevented his peas from sliding onto the table by blocking them with a piece of bread which he later cleaned his plate with. She could see Joy observing sidewise how he handled his knife and fork and she saw too that every few minutes, the boy would dart a keen appraising glance at the girl as if he were trying to attract her attention.After dinner Joy cleared the dishes off the table and disappeared and Mrs. Hopewell was left to talk with him. He told her again about his childhood and his father’s accident and about various things that had happened to him. Every five minutes or so she would stifle a yawn. He sat for two hours until finally she told him she must go because she had an appointment in town. He packed his Bibles and thanked her and prepared to leave, but in。