【VIP专享】英语短篇小说选读 Kate Chopin 凯特肖邦30
一小时的故事-英文版
The story of an hour一小时的故事（1894）凯特·肖邦（Kate Chopin:1851-1904）——冯慧译知道马兰德夫人（Mrs. Mallard）的心脏很衰弱，他们尽可能小心冀冀地把她丈夫死亡的消息告诉她。
玛兰德的姐姐，约瑟芬(Josephine)，用不连贯的语言，遮遮掩掩地给她暗示着。
她丈夫的朋友，理查兹(Richards)也在那儿，就在她身边。
在列有布伦特·马兰德(Brently Mallard)名字的火车事故遇难者的消息名单传来时，理查兹正好在报社里。
紧接其后的电报，使他在最快的时间里证明了消息的可靠性。
他必须赶在那些不太心细，不太温柔的朋友之前把这个不幸的消息带回来。
她没有像别的女人那样，带着麻木接受的神情听这个故事。
她近似绝望地扑倒在姐姐的怀里嚎啕大哭，泪如泉涌。
当这暴风雨般的悲伤过去后，她独自一人回到了自己的房间，不让任何人跟着她。
窗户对面，放着一把舒服的大扶手椅，她疲惫不堪地沉了进去。
这种疲惫，折磨着她的身体，似乎也正浸入她的灵魂。
她看到了屋外广场上，充满新春气息的树梢是那么的兴奋。
空气中弥漫着芬芳的雨的气息。
窗户下面的街道上，小贩正在叫卖他的器皿。
远处传来缥缈的歌声，数不清的麻雀也在屋檐下叽叽喳喳地唱个不停。
对着她窗户的西边天空上，层层叠叠的云朵之间，露着一绺一绺的蔚蓝蔚蓝色的天空。
她把头靠在椅背上，非常地平静。
除了像个孩子自己哭着睡着了，还继续呜咽一样，她也偶尔地呜咽一下，这使她有点颤抖。
她很年青，她那白皙、安详的脸上线条，显示着一种压抑甚或说是一种力量。
但是现在，她那凝望蓝天的双眸，目光茫然，甚或有点呆滞。
这并不是匆匆沉思的一瞥，更不是一种长久的深思熟虑。
有一种感觉正在向她靠近，那正是她带着恐惧等待的。
是什么？她不知道。
这种感觉太微妙，太难以捉摸，她说不清楚。
但她感觉得到它，它正在空中蔓延，它穿过弥漫于空气中的声音、气味和颜色慢慢地靠近她。
凯特肖邦英文简介
凯特肖邦英文简介本文是关于凯特肖邦英文简介，仅供参考，希望对您有所帮助，感谢阅读。
凯特·萧邦简介Kate Chopin, also known as Kate Chopin, American writer, whose name is Katherine O'Flaherty.From 1889 to 1902, she wrote short stories for adults and children, published in the magazine "Atlantic Monthly", "Fashion", "Century" and "Hubble Youth Handbook". The main works are "Hekou people" (1894) and "Arcadia Night" (1897) two short stories. The important short story contains "Dai Ze Lei's baby", its content for the Southern War before the territory of the territory of the story of interracial intermarriage. Another "one hour story" and "storm".凯特·萧邦轶事典故Chopin also created two novels: "blame" (1890) and "awakening" (1899), both of which are located in New Orleans and the Big Island. Her novels are usually all residents of the state, most of the works set and Luzhou in the north of the Nazi Intuit related. At that time, literary critics thought that Chopin always expressed her concern for women in her works.Most of the works are based on the Louisiana state Creole. Has been recognized as a pioneer of 19th century feminist writers. Born in St. Louis, USA. The father died when she was four years old, and then she grew up by her family from Creole (grown up in the West Indies and European descent from all over South America). She married Oscar Chopin in 1870, a cotton businessman. They lived in New Orleans, Louisiana, and then moved to a large farm and French-speaking Arcadians lived together. After 1882 her husband died, Chopin returned to St. Louis with six of her children. Friends encouraged her to write. She published the first novel at the age of forty,"Fault" (At Fault 1890). Her short stories began to appear in Century and Harper's Magazine. And then published two anthologies: "Bayou Folk 1894" and "A Night in Arcadie 1897". The last major works include the short film "A pair of Silk Stocking", and the subsequent novel "The Awakening 1899" is her masterpiece. But because of the novel to adultery sympathy tone depicts the heroine "sexual consciousness" awakening, boldly show her pursuit of extramarital love of love, a novel published in the American literary world caused a great uproar, shocked the nation's book reviewers and readers. In St. Louis, the novel was removed from the bookshelves of the library and accused it of being "a sexy woman in the fall" story, and even dismissed it as a book "should be classified as drugs" so that Chopin himself Was canceled by St. Louis Arts & Crafts. At the end of 1899, her publisher also refused to publish her third collection of short stories. Chopin felt that he was excluded in the field of literature, so in the last years of her life, the author himself was forced to stop writing, and then never again.Living in the second half of the 19th century, she was known as "the pioneer of American feminist literary creation."凯特·萧邦相关记载At the end of the nineteenth century, Chopin tried to describe women's feelings and emotions in relation to men and children and their own sexual desire. This is considered to be offended by the then high society readers. After the death of her mother in 1885, she stopped the practice of Catholicism and began to accept Darwinism's view of human evolution. In nature rather than in the church to seek God, Chopin a lot of description of the theme of love and love. She is sad for the American writers, that the environment caused by the limitations of art hindered a complete and instinctive narrative. Those works that challenge traditional socialbehavior, such as "one hour story", are often rejected by magazine editors. However, more than half a century later, feminist critics have vigorously advocated.凯特·萧邦人物经历childhoodKate Oufu Lahti was born in St. Louis, Missouri. Father Thomas Amo Lahti is a successful businessman who moved from the Irish Galway, whose mother Eliza Farley was the descendant of the Church of Saint Louis, the descendants of Athena Isaac Chalville was descendants of French Canadians, part of the ancestors of the first European immigrants to prince Alabama of Alabama.Kate's father in 1855 (when Kate was only five years old), to the identity of the builder of the pacific Railway Company to participate in the first run of the railway, the train through the mouth of the gas (Gasconade River), due to the collapse of the bridge and killed. In the year, Kate entered St. Louis's Catholic Church at the Sacred Heart.After his father's death, Kate and mother, great-grandmother relationship increasingly close. Began to diligent reading fairy tale, poetry, religious care and classical, contemporary novels. Walter Scott and Charles Dickens are her favorite writers.1863 was the cause of the Kate family; the great grandparents and his half-brother, George Oufulahti, had died (Kate's father's wife, that is, George's mother, had died, and Kate's mother was much younger than his father.) George Oufulahti was a soldier of the American League, who died of malaria during the prisoners of war. Kate so leave school, more buried in the book world.In 1865 Kate re-school, began to record notes Notes, 1868 from the Sacred Heart College graduate. Has not yet made significant achievements- but the story of the skills to enhance a lot.Rough periodIn 1869, Kate was twenty years old, married Oscar Chopin, settled in New Orleans. In 1879 the Oscar of the cotton industry failed, the family moved to the south of Nachteci Chalville, operating the planting and grocery stores. They are gradually active in the community, Kate has absorbed many of the future writing of the material, especially with the local Creole culture. Their residence at Highway 495 (built by Alice Cucker in the early part of the century) has now become a national historical site and also the location of the people's museums.Oscar died of malaria in 1882, leaving $ 12,000 in debt (about $ 229,360 in 20xx). Trying to operate independently for farming and grocery stores, but it is difficult to see results. She gradually with a woman with a husband of the relationship.Mother begged her to move back to St. Louis, Kate and his children in St. Louis settled down, his family slightly pick up. The following year, the mother died.When Kate suffered from a nervous breakdown, the doctor advised her to write a gentle mood. She accepted the proposal, and soon re-found her story telling the talent.Writing periodIn the late 1890s, Kate created short stories, prose and engaged in translation, works scattered in magazines, such as "St. Louis Express." She has been recognized as a native writer, but literary talent has been ignored.In 1899 the second novel "awakening" was published, and was criticized at the same time by literature and morality. This book is Kate's most famous work, the content is about a dissatisfaction with the marriage of his wife.Has been out of print for decades, has now re-pay Azusa. And the importance of the literary status of early feminist works.Kate was criticized by criticism and turned to short story creation. 1900 was written as "New Orleans gentleman", the article is the first edition of the annual income of the "gentleman recorded." However, she never wrote much about the proceeds, still dependent on the investment in Luzhou and St. Louis.August 20, 1904 Kate visited the St. Louis World Expo period, due to the fall of the wind, died two days later, fifty-four. She was buried in St. Louis's Liquan and Cross Cemetery.Kate Chopin has been named St. Louis's gallery.。
kate英文原著精读
kate英文原著精读英文回答：The book "Kate" is a captivating piece of literature that offers a profound reading experience. It revolves around the life of its eponymous protagonist, Kate, and delves into various themes such as love, identity, andself-discovery. The author's writing style is both engaging and thought-provoking, making it a perfect choice for those seeking a challenging yet rewarding read.Kate, the central character, undergoes a transformative journey throughout the novel. She starts off as a young and naive individual, unsure of her place in the world. As the story progresses, she encounters various obstacles and experiences that shape her character. Through these trials, Kate gradually discovers her true self and learns to embrace her own uniqueness.One of the standout aspects of the book is the author'sability to vividly depict the settings and atmosphere. Whether it's the bustling streets of a city or the serene beauty of nature, the descriptions are so vivid that they transport the reader right into the heart of the scenes. This attention to detail enhances the overall reading experience and adds depth to the story.Furthermore, the relationships portrayed in the book are complex and multi-dimensional. The interactions between Kate and the other characters are filled with tension, emotion, and genuine human connection. The authorskillfully explores the intricacies of human relationships, highlighting the joys and struggles that come with them. This aspect of the book adds a layer of realism and relatability, making it easy for readers to connect with the characters on a personal level.Overall, "Kate" is a masterfully written novel that offers a profound and thought-provoking reading experience. Its exploration of love, identity, and self-discovery, combined with vivid descriptions and complex relationships, make it a must-read for anyone looking for a captivatingliterary journey.中文回答：《Kate》这本书是一部引人入胜的文学作品，为读者提供了深刻的阅读体验。
【VIP专享】英语短篇小说选读 Kate Chopin 凯特肖邦30
Ⅰ. A BRIEF INTRODUCTION
• A woman ahead of her time
• She was an American author of short stories and novels. She is now considered by some to have been a forerunner of feminist authors of the 20th century.
Ⅱ. LIFE
-- KATE Chopin was born Kate O'Flaherty in St. Louis, Missouri in 1850 to Eliza and Thomas O'Flaherty.
-- SHE was the third of five children, but her sisters died in infancy and her brothers (from her father's first marriage) in their early twenties. She was the only child to live past the age of twenty-five.
凯特肖邦一小时的故事简介
凯特肖邦一小时的故事简介
《一小时的故事》是美国女性主义作家凯特·肖邦于1894年发表的短篇小说。
故事背景设定在19世纪末的美国南方，以路易斯安那州为背景，讲述了一位名叫玛格丽特·奥尔森的已婚女性在一小时内经历的心灵历程。
故事开始时，玛格丽特·奥尔森收到了一封信，得知她曾深爱过的恋人亨利·雷蒙德去世。
这个消息让她陷入深深的回忆，回忆起过去的点点滴滴。
随后，她与丈夫奥斯瓦尔德一起参加雷蒙德的葬礼。
在葬礼上，她感受到了亨利对她旧情的眷恋，以及自己内心的挣扎。
故事的高潮在于玛格丽特在葬礼后回到家，与丈夫奥斯瓦尔德发生激烈的争吵。
她指责丈夫对她的不理解，发泄了自己多年来的压抑与痛苦。
最终，她决定放弃现有的生活，去追求曾经失去的爱情。
然而，在临死前的一小时，她终于与自己和解，接受了自己的命运。
小说以“丈夫身亡”为线索，通过玛格丽特·奥尔森一个小时中历经的多次心情突转，带领读者走进她的婚姻生活和内心世界。
在围绕“丈夫死亡”的故事发展情节中，玛格丽特·奥尔森的本性被隐藏在一层层面具之下，我们看到了她的表演，却很难发现它背后的故事。
然而，随着情节的深入，她的本性也随之浮出水面，让小说的内涵更为深刻。
(英文文献)Kate Chopin_The Story of an Hour
The Story of an HourBy Kate Chopin1Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband’s death.2It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband’s friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard’s name leading the list of “killed”. He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.3She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister’s arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her.4There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.5She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.6There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window.7She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams.8She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, butrather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought.9There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.10Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will -- as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been.11When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath: “free, free, free!” The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body. 12She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her. A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial.13She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome.14There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination.15And yet she had loved him -- sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being!16“Free! Body and soul free!” she kept whispering.17Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhole, imploring for admission. “Louise, open the door! I beg, open the door -- you will makeyourself ill. What are you doing Louise? For heaven’s sake open the door.”18“Go away. I am not making myself ill.” No; she was drinking in a very elixir of life through that open window.19Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.20She arose at length and opened the door to her sister's importunities. There was a feverish triumph in her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She clasped her sister's waist, and together they descended the stairs. Richards stood waiting for them at the bottom.21Someone was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered, a little travel-stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine’s piercing cry; at Richards’ quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife.22But Richards was too late.23When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease -- of joy that kills.(1023 words)About the author:Kate Chopin (February 8, 1850 – August 22, 1904) was an American author of short stories and novels, mostly of a Louisiana Creole background. Kate Chopin went beyond Maupassant's technique and style and gave her writing a flavor of its own. She had an ability to perceive life and put it down on paper creatively. She put much concentration and emphasis on women's lives and their continual struggles to create an identity of their own within the boundaries of the patriarchy. Through her stories, Kate Chopin wrote her own autobiography and documented her surroundings; she lived in a time when her surroundings included the abolitionist movements and the emergence of feminism. Her ideas and descriptions were not true word for word, yet there was an element of nonfiction lingering throughout each story.Note:In The Story of an Hour, Mrs. Mallard allows herself time to reflect upon learning of her husband's death. Instead of dreading the lonely years ahead of her, she stumbles upon another realization all together. "She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome"。
Kate Chopin
在19世纪后期，美国作家凯特·肖邦（Kate Chopin）在1894年的短篇小说《一个小时的故事》（The Story of an Hour）中，采用了这个幻想丈夫死去的主题。
在这部小说里，一个年轻女人得知她的丈夫在一次铁路事故中死了。
她哭泣着回到了房间里。
慢慢地，她开始意识到自己灵魂的变化：“她低声说；…自由，自由，自由！‟……她知道在度过了漫长的痛苦时刻之后，她将完全属于她自己了。
”后来，没有任何警告，她根本就没有乘坐那列火车的丈夫，开门进来了。
当她看到他的时候，她的心脏停止了跳动。
她身边的每一个人都认为她是因为高兴才会这样。
她真是因为丈夫回来高兴而死吗?这是一篇宣扬女权主义的小说.大男子主义导致了两性的不平等，女权主义的倡导也要避免极端的倾向（如小说中超越男性的幻想）。
我们乃至西方社会的女权主义的终极目标是众生平等（真正意义上的平等）。
不是任何一方的超越与凌驾。
In The late 19th century, American writer Kate Chopin (Kate Chopin) in 1894, The short Story The one Hour of Story (The Story of an hour-by-hour), adopted The fantasy theme of her husband died. In this novel, a young woman learned that her husband died in a railway accident. She wept returned to the room. Slowly, she began to realize their soul changes: "she whispered," free, free, free! '... she know in spent a long time after the pain, she will complete her own." Then, without warning, she did not take the train's husband, open the door came in. When she saw him, her heart stops beating. Around her everyone thinks she was happy will like this. She really because husband came back happy to death? This article is a feminist novels. Male chauvinist led to sexual inequality, feminism advocates also should avoid to extreme tendency (such as novel transcendence of male fantasy). We even western social feminism and the ultimate goal of equality for all (real sense of equality). Not any party surpassed and superior.<PIXTEL_MMI_EBOOK_2005>6</PIXTEL_MMI_EBOOK_2005>。
英语文学赏析凯特肖邦一小时的故事
《The Story of an Hour》
Historical background
Given that “The Story of an Hour” was published in 1894, when marriage was considered a sacred institution. Divorce was quite rare in the 1800s and if one was to occur, men were automatically given legal control of all property and children.
凯特· 萧邦
（Kate Chopin，1851-1904）
又名凯特肖邦，美 国女作家，本名凯 萨琳· 欧福拉赫蒂 （Katherine O'Flaherty）
凯特· 萧邦
Her important short 重要的短篇小说 stories 《Desiree‘s Baby》 《黛泽蕾的婴孩》 《The Story of an Hour》 《一小时的故事》 《暴风》 《The Storm》
马拉德太太得知丈夫死讯后，心都要碎啦。他把自己锁在房间里。从窗外看 到‘到处充满了新春的生机’，她陷入了沉思。
《The Story of an Hour》
Part two 9-17
Sad was she , she realized she was freedom which she was deprived by marriage . Both body and soul are freedom.She would live for herself.
经典英文短篇小说
A Pair of Silk Stockings Cousin Tribulation's Story How the Camel Got His Hump RegretRikki-Tikki-TaviThe Brave Tin SoldierThe CactusThe Haunted MindThe Story of An HourThe Tale of Peter RabbitA Pair of Silk Stockingsby Kate ChopinLittle Mrs. Sommers one day found herself the unexpected possessor of fifteen dollars. It seemed to her a very large amount of money, and the way in which it stuffed and bulged her worn old porte-monnaie gave her a feeling of importance such as she had not enjoyed for years.The question of investment was one that occupied her greatly. For a day or two she walked about apparently in a dreamy state, but really absorbed in speculation and calculation. She did not wish to act hastily, to do anything she might afterward regret. But it was during the still hours of the night when she lay awake revolving plans in her mind that she seemed to see her way clearly toward a proper and judicious use of the money.A dollar or two should be added to the price usually paid for Janie's shoes, which would insure their lasting an appreciable time longer than they usually did. She would buy so and so many yards of percale for new shirt waists for the boys and Janie and Mag. She had intended to make the old ones do by skilful patching. Mag should have another gown. She had seen some beautiful patterns, veritable bargains in the shop windows. And still there would be left enough for new stockings--two pairs apiece--and what darning that would save for a while! She would get caps for the boys and sailor-hats for the girls. The vision of her little brood looking fresh and dainty and new for once in their lives excited her and made her restless and wakeful with anticipation.The neighbors sometimes talked of certain "better days" that little Mrs. Sommers had known before she had ever thought of being Mrs. Sommers. She herself indulged in no such morbid retrospection. She had no time--no second of time to devote to the past. The needs of the present absorbed her every faculty. A vision of the future like some dim, gaunt monster sometimes appalled her, but luckily tomorrow never comes.Mrs. Sommers was one who knew the value of bargains; who could stand for hours making her way inch by inch toward the desired object that was selling below cost. She could elbow her way if need be; she had learned to clutch a piece of goods and hold it and stick to it with persistence and determination till her turn came to be served, no matter when it came.But that day she was a little faint and tired. She had swallowed a light luncheon--no! when she came to think of it, between getting the children fed and the place righted, and preparing herself for the shopping bout, she had actually forgotten to eat any luncheon at all!She sat herself upon a revolving stool before a counter that was comparatively deserted, trying to gather strength and courage to charge through an eager multitude that was besieging breastworks of shirting and figured lawn. An all-gone limp feeling had come over her and she rested her hand aimlessly upon the counter. She wore no gloves. By degrees she grew aware that her hand had encountered something very soothing, very pleasant to touch. She looked down to see that her hand lay upon a pile of silk stockings. A placard nearby announced that they had been reduced in price from two dollars and fifty cents to one dollar and ninety-eight cents; and a young girl who stood behind the counter asked her if she wished to examine their line of silk hosiery. She smiled, just as if she had been asked to inspect a tiara of diamonds with the ultimate view of purchasing it. But she went on feeling the soft, sheeny luxurious things--with both hands now, holding them up to see them glisten, and to feel them glide serpent-like through her fingers.Two hectic blotches came suddenly into her pale cheeks. She looked up at the girl."Do you think there are any eights-and-a-half among these?"There were any number of eights-and-a-half. In fact, there were more of that size than any other. Here was a light-blue pair; there were some lavender, some all black and various shades of tan and gray. Mrs. Sommers selected a black pair and looked at them very long and closely. She pretended to be examining their texture, which the clerk assured her was excellent."A dollar and ninety-eight cents," she mused aloud. "Well, I'll take this pair." She handed the girl a five-dollar bill and waited for her change and for her parcel. What a very small parcel it was! It seemed lost in the depths of her shabby old shopping-bag.Mrs. Sommers after that did not move in the direction of the bargain counter. She took the elevator, which carried her to an upper floor into the region of the ladies' waiting-rooms. Here, in a retired corner, she exchanged her cotton stockings for the new silk ones which she had just bought. She was not going through any acute mental process or reasoning with herself, nor was she striving to explain to her satisfaction the motive of her action. She was not thinking at all. She seemed for the time to be taking a rest from that laborious and fatiguing function and to have abandoned herself to some mechanical impulse that directed her actions and freed her of responsibility.How good was the touch of the raw silk to her flesh! She felt like lying back in the cushioned chair and revelling for a while in the luxury of it. She did for a little while. Then she replaced her shoes, rolled the cotton stockings together and thrust them into her bag. After doing this she crossed straight over to the shoe department and took her seat to be fitted.She was fastidious. The clerk could not make her out; he could not reconcile her shoes with her stockings, and she was not too easily pleased. She held back her skirts and turned her feet one way and her head another way as she glanced down at the polished, pointed-tipped boots. Her foot and ankle looked very pretty. She could not realize that they belonged to her and were a part of herself. She wanted an excellent and stylish fit, she told the young fellow who served her, and she did not mind the difference of a dollar or two more in the price so long as she got what she desired.It was a long time since Mrs. Sommers had been fitted with gloves. On rare occasions when she had bought a pair they were always "bargains," so cheap that it would have been preposterous and unreasonable to have expected them to be fitted to the hand.Now she rested her elbow on the cushion of the glove counter, and a pretty, pleasant young creature, delicate and deft of touch, drew a long-wristed "kid" over Mrs. Sommers's hand. She smoothed it down over the wrist and buttoned it neatly, and both lost themselves for a second or two in admiring contemplation of the little symmetrical gloved hand. But there were other places where money might be spent.There were books and magazines piled up in the window of a stall a few paces down the street. Mrs. Sommers bought two high-priced magazines such as she had been accustomed to read in the days when she had been accustomed to other pleasant things. She carried them without wrapping. As well as she could she lifted her skirts at the crossings. Her stockings and boots and well fitting gloves had worked marvels in her bearing--had given her a feeling of assurance, a sense of belonging to the well-dressed multitude.She was very hungry. Another time she would have stilled the cravings for food until reaching her own home, where she would have brewed herself a cup of tea and taken a snack of anything that was available. But the impulse that was guiding her would not suffer her to entertain any such thought.There was a restaurant at the corner. She had never entered its doors; from the outside she hadsometimes caught glimpses of spotless damask and shining crystal, and soft-stepping waiters serving people of fashion.When she entered her appearance created no surprise, no consternation, as she had half feared it might. She seated herself at a small table alone, and an attentive waiter at once approached to take her order. She did not want a profusion; she craved a nice and tasty bite--a half dozen blue-points, a plump chop with cress, a something sweet--a creme-frappee, for instance; a glass of Rhine wine, and after all a small cup of black coffee.While waiting to be served she removed her gloves very leisurely and laid them beside her. Then she picked up a magazine and glanced through it, cutting the pages with a blunt edge of her knife. It was all very agreeable. The damask was even more spotless than it had seemed through the window, and the crystal more sparkling. There were quiet ladies and gentlemen, who did not notice her, lunching at the small tables like her own. A soft, pleasing strain of music could be heard, and a gentle breeze, was blowing through the window. She tasted a bite, and she read a word or two, and she sipped the amber wine and wiggled her toes in the silk stockings. The price of it made no difference. She counted the money out to the waiter and left an extra coin on his tray, whereupon he bowed before her as before a princess of royal blood.There was still money in her purse, and her next temptation presented itself in the shape of a matinee poster.It was a little later when she entered the theatre, the play had begun and the house seemed to her to be packed. But there were vacant seats here and there, and into one of them she was ushered, between brilliantly dressed women who had gone there to kill time and eat candy and display their gaudy attire. There were many others who were there solely for the play and acting. It is safe to say there was no one present who bore quite the attitude which Mrs. Sommers did to her surroundings. She gathered in the whole--stage and players and people in one wide impression, and absorbed it and enjoyed it. She laughed at the comedy and wept--she and the gaudy woman next to her wept over the tragedy. And they talked a little together over it. And the gaudy woman wiped her eyes and sniffled on a tiny square of filmy, perfumed lace and passed little Mrs. Sommers her box of candy.The play was over, the music ceased, the crowd filed out. It was like a dream ended. People scattered in all directions. Mrs. Sommers went to the corner and waited for the cable car.A man with keen eyes, who sat opposite to her, seemed to like the study of her small, pale face. It puzzled him to decipher what he saw there. In truth, he saw nothing-unless he were wizard enough to detect a poignant wish, a powerful longing that the cable car would never stop anywhere, but go on and on with her forever.Cousin Tribulation's Storyby Louisa May AlcottDear Merrys:--As a subject appropriate to the season, I want to tell you about a New Year's breakfast which I had when I was a little girl. What do you think it was? A slice of dry bread and an apple. This is how it happened, and it is a true story, every word.As we came down to breakfast that morning, with very shiny faces and spandy clean aprons, we found father alone in the dining-room."Happy New Year, papa! Where is mother?" we cried."A little boy came begging and said they were starving at home, so your mother went to see and--ah, here she is."As papa spoke, in came mamma, looking very cold, rather sad, and very much excited."Children, don't begin till you hear what I have to say," she cried; and we sat staring at her, with the breakfast untouched before us."Not far away from here, lies a poor woman with a little new-born baby. Six children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over there; and the oldest boy came here to tell me they were starving this bitter cold day. My little girls, will you give them your breakfast, as a New Year's gift?"We sat silent a minute, and looked at the nice, hot porridge, creamy milk, and good bread and butter; for we were brought up like English children, and never drank tea or coffee, or ate anything but porridge for our breakfast."I wish we'd eaten it up," thought I, for I was rather a selfish child, and very hungry."I'm so glad you come before we began," said Nan, cheerfully."May I go and help carry it to the poor, little children?" asked Beth, who had the tenderest heart that ever beat under a pinafore."I can carry the lassy pot," said little May, proudly giving the thing she loved best."And I shall take all the porridge," I burst in, heartily ashamed of my first feeling."You shall put on your things and help me, and when we come back, we'll get something to eat," said mother, beginning to pile the bread and butter into a big basket.We were soon ready, and the procession set out. First, papa, with a basket of wood on one arm and coal on the other; mamma next, with a bundle of warm things and the teapot; Nan and I carried a pail of hot porridge between us, and each a pitcher of milk; Beth brought some cold meat, May the "lassy pot," and her old hood and boots; and Betsey, the girl, brought up the rear with a bag of potatoes and some meal.Fortunately it was early, and we went along back streets, so few people saw us, and no one laughed at the funny party.What a poor, bare, miserable place it was, to be sure,--broken windows, no fire, ragged clothes, wailing baby, sick mother, and a pile of pale, hungry children cuddled under one quilt, trying to keep warm. How the big eyes stared and the blue lips smiled as we came in!"Ah, mein Gott! it is the good angels that come to us!" cried the poor woman, with tears of joy."Funny angels, in woollen hoods and red mittens," said I; and they all laughed.Then we fell to work, and in fifteen minutes, it really did seem as if fairies had been at work there. Papa made a splendid fire in the old fireplace and stopped up the broken window with hisown hat and coat. Mamma set the shivering children round the fire, and wrapped the poor woman in warm things. Betsey and the rest of us spread the table, and fed the starving little ones."Das ist gute!" "Oh, nice!" "Der angel--Kinder!" cried the poor things as they ate and smiled and basked in the warm blaze. We had never been called "angel-children" before, and we thought it very charming, especially I who had often been told I was "a regular Sancho." What fun it was! Papa, with a towel for an apron, fed the smallest child; mamma dressed the poor little new-born baby as tenderly as if it had been her own. Betsey gave the mother gruel and tea, and comforted her with assurance of better days for all. Nan, Lu, Beth, and May flew about among the seven children, talking and laughing and trying to understand their funny, broken English. It was a very happy breakfast, though we didn't get any of it; and when we came away, leaving them all so comfortable, and promising to bring clothes and food by and by, I think there were not in all the hungry little girls who gave away their breakfast, and contented themselves with a bit of bread and an apple of New Year's day.How the Camel Got His Humpby Rudyard KiplingNOW this is the next tale, and it tells how the Camel got his big hump.In the beginning of years, when the world was so new and all, and the Animals were just beginning to work for Man, there was a Camel, and he lived in the middle of a Howling Desert because he did not want to work; and besides, he was a Howler himself. So he ate sticks and thorns and tamarisks and milkweed and prickles, most 'scruciating idle; and when anybody spoke to him he said 'Humph!' Just 'Humph!' and no more.Presently the Horse came to him on Monday morning, with a saddle on his back and a bit in his mouth, and said, 'Camel, O Camel, come out and trot like the rest of us.''Humph!' said the Camel; and the Horse went away and told the Man.Presently the Dog came to him, with a stick in his mouth, and said, 'Camel, O Camel, come and fetch and carry like the rest of us.''Humph!' said the Camel; and the Dog went away and told the Man.Presently the Ox came to him, with the yoke on his neck and said, 'Camel, O Camel, come and plough like the rest of us.''Humph!' said the Camel; and the Ox went away and told the Man.At the end of the day the Man called the Horse and the Dog and the Ox together, and said, 'Three, O Three, I'm very sorry for you (with the world so new-and-all); but that Humph-thing in the Desert can't work, or he would have been here by now, so I am going to leave him alone, and you must work double-time to make up for it.'That made the Three very angry (with the world so new-and-all), and they held a palaver, and an indaba, and a punchayet, and a pow-wow on the edge of the Desert; and the Camel came chewing on milkweed most 'scruciating idle, and laughed at them. Then he said 'Humph!' and went away again.Presently there came along the Djinn in charge of All Deserts, rolling in a cloud of dust (Djinns always travel that way because it is Magic), and he stopped to palaver and pow-pow with the Three.'Djinn of All Deserts,' said the Horse, 'is it right for any one to be idle, with the world so new-and-all?''Certainly not,' said the Djinn.'Well,' said the Horse, 'there's a thing in the middle of your Howling Desert (and he's a Howler himself) with a long neck and long legs, and he hasn't done a stroke of work since Monday morning. He won't trot.''Whew!' said the Djinn, whistling, 'that's my Camel, for all the gold in Arabia! What does he say about it?''He says "Humph!"' said the Dog; 'and he won't fetch and carry.''Does he say anything else?''Only "Humph!"; and he won't plough,' said the Ox.'Very good,' said the Djinn. 'I'll humph him if you will kindly wait a minute.'The Djinn rolled himself up in his dust-cloak, and took a bearing across the desert, and found the Camel most 'scruciatingly idle, looking at his own reflection in a pool of water.'My long and bubbling friend,' said the Djinn, 'what's this I hear of your doing no work, with theworld so new-and-all?''Humph!' said the Camel.The Djinn sat down, with his chin in his hand, and began to think a Great Magic, while the Camel looked at his own reflection in the pool of water.'You've given the Three extra work ever since Monday morning, all on account of your 'scruciating idleness,' said the Djinn; and he went on thinking Magics, with his chin in his hand.'Humph!' said the Camel.'I shouldn't say that again if I were you,' said the Djinn; you might say it once too often. Bubbles, I want you to work.'And the Camel said 'Humph!' again; but no sooner had he said it than he saw his back, that he was so proud of, puffing up and puffing up into a great big lolloping humph.'Do you see that?' said the Djinn. 'That's your very own humph that you've brought upon your very own self by not working. To-day is Thursday, and you've done no work since Monday, when the work began. Now you are going to work.''How can I,' said the Camel, 'with this humph on my back?''That's made a-purpose,' said the Djinn, 'all because you missed those three days. You will be able to work now for three days without eating, because you can live on your humph; and don't you ever say I never did anything for you. Come out of the Desert and go to the Three, and behave. Humph yourself!'And the Camel humphed himself, humph and all, and went away to join the Three. And from that day to this the Camel always wears a humph (we call it 'hump' now, not to hurt his feelings); but he has never yet caught up with the three days that he missed at the beginning of the world, and he has never yet learned how to behave.Regretby Kate ChopinMAMZELLE AURLIE possessed a good strong figure, ruddy cheeks, hair that was changing from brown to gray, and a determined eye. She wore a man's hat about the farm, and an old blue army overcoat when it was cold, and sometimes top-boots.Mamzelle Aurlie had never thought of marrying. She had never been in love. At the age of twenty she had received a proposal, which she had promptly declined, and at the age of fifty she had not yet lived to regret it.So she was quite alone in the world, except for her dog Ponto, and the negroes who lived in her cabins and worked her crops, and the fowls, a few cows, a couple of mules, her gun (with which she shot chicken-hawks), and her religion.One morning Mamzelle Aurlie stood upon her gallery, contemplating, with arms akimbo, a small band of very small children who, to all intents and purposes, might have fallen from the clouds, so unexpected and bewildering was their coming, and so unwelcome. They were the children of her nearest neighbor, Odile, who was not such a near neighbor, after all.The young woman had appeared but five minutes before, accompanied by these four children. In her arms she carried little Lodie; she dragged Ti Nomme by an unwilling hand; while Marcline and Marclette followed with irresolute steps.Her face was red and disfigured from tears and excitement. She had been summoned to a neighboring parish by the dangerous illness of her mother; her husband was away in Texas -- it seemed to her a million miles away; and Valsin was waiting with the mule-cart to drive her to the station."It's no question, Mamzelle Aurlie; you jus' got to keep those youngsters fo' me tell I come back. Dieu sait, I wouldn' botha you with 'em if it was any otha way to do! Make 'em mine you, Mamzelle Aurlie; don' spare 'em. Me, there, I'm half crazy between the chil'ren, an' Lon not home, an' maybe not even to fine po' maman alive encore!" -- a harrowing possibility which drove Odile to take a final hasty and convulsive leave of her disconsolate family.She left them crowded into the narrow strip of shade on the porch of the long, low house; the white sunlight was beating in on the white old boards; some chickens were scratching in the grass at the foot of the steps, and one had boldly mounted, and was stepping heavily, solemnly, and aimlessly across the gallery. There was a pleasant odor of pinks in the air, and the sound of negroes' laughter was coming across the flowering cotton-field.Mamzelle Aurlie stood contemplating the children. She looked with a critical eye upon Marcline, who had been left staggering beneath the weight of the chubby Lodie. She surveyed with the same calculating air Marclette mingling her silent tears with the audible grief and rebellion of Ti Nomme. During those few contemplative moments she was collecting herself, determining upon a line of action which should be identical with a line of duty. She began by feeding them.If Mamzelle Aurlie's responsibilities might have begun and ended there, they could easily have been dismissed; for her larder was amply provided against an emergency of this nature. But little children are not little pigs: they require and demand attentions which were wholly unexpected by Mamzelle Aurlie, and which she was ill prepared to give.She was, indeed, very inapt in her management of Odile's children during the first few days.How could she know that Marclette always wept when spoken to in a loud and commanding tone of voice? It was a peculiarity of Marclette's. She became acquainted with Ti Nomme's passion for flowers only when he had plucked all the choicest gardenias and pinks for the apparent purpose of critically studying their botanical construction."'T ain't enough to tell 'im, Mamzelle Aurlie," Marcline instructed her; "you got to tie 'im in a chair. It's w'at maman all time do w'en he's bad: she tie 'im in a chair." The chair in which Mamzelle Aurlie tied Ti Nomme was roomy and comfortable, and he seized the opportunity to take a nap in it, the afternoon being warm.At night, when she ordered them one and all to bed as she would have shooed the chickens into the hen-house, they stayed uncomprehending before her. What about the little white nightgowns that had to be taken from the pillow-slip in which they were brought over, and shaken by some strong hand till they snapped like ox-whips? What about the tub of water which had to be brought and set in the middle of the floor, in which the little tired, dusty, sun-browned feet had every one to be washed sweet and clean? And it made Marcline and Marclette laugh merrily -- the idea that Mamzelle Aurlie should for a moment have believed that Ti Nomme could fall asleep without being told the story of Croque-mitaine or Loup-garou, or both; or that lodie could fall asleep at all without being rocked and sung to."I tell you, Aunt Ruby," Mamzelle Aurlie informed her cook in confidence; "me, I'd rather manage a dozen plantation' than fo' chil'ren. It's terrassent! Bont! don't talk to me about chil'ren!""T ain' ispected sich as you would know airy thing 'bout 'em, Mamzelle Aurlie. I see dat plainly yistiddy w'en I spy dat li'le chile playin' wid yo' baskit o' keys. You don' know dat makes chillun grow up hard-headed, to play wid keys? Des like it make 'em teeth hard to look in a lookin'-glass. Them's the things you got to know in the raisin' an' manigement o' chillun."Mamzelle Aurlie certainly did not pretend or aspire to such subtle and far-reaching knowledge on the subject as Aunt Ruby possessed, who had "raised five an' buried six" in her day. She was glad enough to learn a few little mother-tricks to serve the moment's need.Ti Nomme's sticky fingers compelled her to unearth white aprons that she had not worn for years, and she had to accustom herself to his moist kisses -- the expressions of an affectionate and exuberant nature. She got down her sewing-basket, which she seldom used, from the top shelf of the armoire, and placed it within the ready and easy reach which torn slips and buttonless waists demanded. It took her some days to become accustomed to the laughing, the crying, the chattering that echoed through the house and around it all day long. And it was not the first or the second night that she could sleep comfortably with little Lodie's hot, plump body pressed close against her, and the little one's warm breath beating her cheek like the fanning of a bird's wing.But at the end of two weeks Mamzelle Aurlie had grown quite used to these things, and she no longer complained.It was also at the end of two weeks that Mamzelle Aurlie, one evening, looking away toward the crib where the cattle were being fed, saw Valsin's blue cart turning the bend of the road. Odile sat beside the mulatto, upright and alert. As they drew near, the young woman's beaming face indicated that her home-coming was a happy one.But this coming, unannounced and unexpected, threw Mamzelle Aurlie into a flutter that was almost agitation. The children had to be gathered. Where was Ti Nomme? Yonder in the shed, putting an edge on his knife at the grindstone. And Marcline and Marclette? Cutting and fashioning doll-rags in the corner of the gallery. As for Lodie, she was safe enough in Mamzelle Aurlie's arms;。
凯特肖邦
翌年，母亲去世，肖邦因此 患上了精神崩溃，家庭医生建 议她以写作平缓心情。她接受 建议，开始了她短暂的创作生 涯。
她在四十岁的时候出版了第 一本小说《过失》（1890）。
At forty, she published her first novel At Fault (1890).
1899年第二部长篇小说 《觉醒》出版，同时遭到文 学和道德角度的批评。此书 是凯特最知名的作品.
ENIM
ENIM
凯特年仅五岁时,父亲便死 于火车事故。此后，话、诗歌、宗教托寓以 及古典、当代小说。
At the age of 13, Kate's great grandmother and brother George died. George was the soldier of Confederate States of America, died from malaria as a prisoner of war. So Kate dropped out of school, more engrossed in the world of book. 凯特 13 岁时，曾祖母和哥
In 1899, her second novels was published The Awakening which was criticised by people at the point of view of literature and moral at the same time. The book is Kate's best-known work.
凯特深受批评的打击，转往短篇小 说创作。1900年写成《新奥尔良绅士》. 然而，她从未自写作获得多少收益。
”
Death
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Backgrounds:
• Gender: is both an effect of biology and a
social construction. In patriarchal societies, that construction will tend to favour men over women.
• Female consciousness: natural female consciousness including the pursuit for beauty and freedom, and the awareness of self-attractiveness, self-worthiness, selfexistence, self-esteem, self-enjoyment, and also the desire for intellectual, emotional and sexual fulfilment.
• Gender role: refers to the behavioural
role or quality socially and culturally sanctioned for males and females.
• Gender identity: refers to the self-
• She lambasted society for its perpetual close-mindedness in a time when righteousness was considered to be an attribute, and she helped to generate more enlightened attitudes among both the women and men of her time.
• She was a woman whose feminist viewpoints were far ahead of her time, which of course garnered her more than her share of criticism.
• In a time when women were expected to behave "properly" and sexual desire was considered to be something only experienced by men, Chopin spoke with exceptional openness about human sexuality.
Died
August 22, 1904 (aged 54) St. Louis, Missouri, United States
Occupatio Novelist, short story
n
writer
Genres realistic fiction
Notable The Awausness: awareness of the elements that prevent women from developing in the social institutional structure; the conscious pursuit for political and economical subjectivity in society.
Ⅰ. A BRIEF INTRODUCTION
• A woman ahead of her time
• She was an American author of short stories and novels. She is now considered by some to have been a forerunner of feminist authors of the 20th century.
Kate Chopin
Ⅰ. A Brief Introduction
Ⅱ. Life
Ⅲ. Major Works and Writing Style
Ⅳ. Setting—The Storm
Born
Katherine O'Flaherty February 8, 1850 St. Louis, Missouri, United States
• Femininity: submissive, passive,
mindless, emotional, sensual, fragile, nurturing, caring, relational, domestic and etc.
• Masculinity: aggressive, competitive,
awareness of one’s biological, social and cultural characteristics. It is the conformation and approval of one’s sexual identity. Gender identity is the internalisation of gender role, while gender role is the externalised form of gender identity; both are based on biological elements.
smart, strong-hearted, tough, rational, social, independent and etc.
• Simone de Beauvoir says in The Second Sex: “One is not born, but rather becomes a woman. No biological, psychological, or economic fate determines the figure that the human female presents in society; it is civilization as a whole that produces this creature."