悦读天下 -学而思 走对小学的每一步 陪伴+轻推+放手（全3册） 小学通用 适用于1-6年级家长教育宝典 学透育儿经 帮助孩子科学成长小学一二三四五六年级
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学而思 走对小学的每一步 陪伴+轻推+放手（全3册） 小学通用 适用于1-6年级家长教育宝典 学透育儿经 帮助孩子科学成长小学一二三四五六年级 在线下载 pdf mobi 2025 epub 电子版
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精彩短评：
作者：Greensky|沉默的大多数 发布时间：2011-07-12 10:41:56
很好的入门书
作者：苏比 发布时间：2022-05-31 13:11:00
挺不错的物理科普书，把知识又串联了一遍，现在看物理总会有点忧愁
作者：扎悟客 发布时间：2017-07-28 23:41:16
这本主要是各种概念，各种模型，各种技术的教科书，案例很少，适合结合米爷爷其他分析案例的书一起看，所以单独看，会有点枯燥和抽象。
作者：能吃二十个馄饨 发布时间：2023-12-30 16:17:11
梳理得很细致很有条理。
作者：寡人有疾 发布时间：2022-03-19 19:01:16
带孩子读
作者：噼里啪啦肖大侠 发布时间：2021-06-09 17:55:42
简单易懂，适合入门
深度书评：
历史就是谈生活
作者：青砖壁瓦 发布时间：2009-05-03 21:30:59
很多人的人不喜欢历史，就是因为历史都是帝王将相的政治史，而我们最感兴趣的，莫过于是，回到了某个朝代，我们的个头与那时的人比较如何？ 我们的语言古人能听懂几句？当时的人衣食住行如何？集市怎样热闹？ 我们与古代的女子如何交往? 这些年，微观历史大行其道，正如近几年流行的法国年鉴学派的《私人生活史》，就这样描写了普通人家的生活：比如在中世纪欧洲的卧房里，光着身子的女人在炉子前取暖，男人们则脱掉裤子坐在炉膛边烤火。萨凯蒂指出，在这种情况下，要小心躺在凳子底下的猫，它们很容易把某些下垂的东西当成玩具。 而中国的社会生活史在二、三十年代萌芽，再度兴起是1986年，现在还处于初级阶段。
法国的汉学大家谢和耐是以《中国社会史》享誉天下，同样生活史，还有一本绝妙之作《蒙元入侵前夜的中国日常生活》，为啥取这个书名，就是他认为在蒙元入侵前宋朝的临安（杭州），是中国古代物质文明和文化发展的顶峰，自从被蒙`人的铁蹄践踏后，中国的物质繁荣就再也没有达到这个高度。在中国的古典籍中，对杭州的旧日繁华和回忆史料的是最为丰富的，谢和耐就根据这些典籍，把大宋盛极的盛况在一次回放到我们眼前。 本篇以谢和耐这书加上其他几本古今中外的书籍，还原历史的画卷，看一下宋朝的生活微观史，也顺便展示点社会生活史所研究的内容。
（一）宋朝的住
蒙元入侵前的杭州，是人口急剧膨胀的高密度城市，在1165-1173年间，户籍数104699，人口估计50万；1270年，户籍数为186330，人口总数约为90万。1275以后，杭州城内人口逾百万。建筑用地极度匮乏，所以当时城内多是3、5层的楼房，这一点是我们不可思议的，鲍南丁记录的贫民区中居然有10层的房屋，每家一层。这些房子，正立面极度窄小，但进深很大，一楼常用于商铺，这些房子官府有专门机构收取租金。
由于这些房屋是高层又是竹木结构，所以当局最头疼的就是火灾，虽然古都的大街的主干道都超过300英尺，又成直角交叉，可以在街区与街区间形成良好的隔火带，一般火灾不会蔓延到相邻的街区。 但是没有哪一年不闹火灾的，1132夏历五月、八月、十月和十二月，火灾烧了几处城区；到了第二年，在夏历一月、九月和十一月，火灾仍频频发生，十月份居然发生了两起。一位开封来的移民层记录，在1132年夏历五月有13000间房屋尽付一炬，到了1137年他又目睹了1万间房屋化为灰烬。
北宋时设置了专门的消防机构，称为“军巡铺”。 由于建筑高层多，还动用了攻城的云梯作为救人和灭火的武器。规定每300步内设一所“军巡铺屋”，有铺兵5人。铺兵的任务是在夜间巡逻，以防止深夜火起。城中的高处则设有“望火楼”，楼下建有官屋数间，常驻军士100多人，并备有大小水桶、洒子、麻搭、钩锯、斧杈、梯子、大索、铁爪儿等灭火器具。如一旦火起，望火楼下的消防队就迅速跑向起火地点。同时，再派一骑兵四处飞跑， 向京城的卫戍部队求救来灭火。
（五）宋朝的饮食
马可勃罗曾震惊地写道：“任何人看到市场上的鱼类供应，他准回想，这么多的鱼根本卖不完。可是，也仅仅是几个小时之内，那些鱼就一扫而空”。然后我再从《东京梦华录注》里原封不动挑出一段，让我们看看州桥夜市的小吃： 出朱雀门，直至龙津桥。自州桥南去，当街水饭、熝肉、干脯。王楼前獾儿、野狐、肉脯、鸡。梅家鹿家鹅鸭鸡兔肚肺鳝鱼包子、鸡皮、腰肾、鸡碎，每个不过十五文。曹家从食。至朱雀门，旋煎羊、白肠、鲊脯、冻鱼头、姜豉子、抹脏、红丝、批切羊头、辣脚子、姜辣萝卜。夏月麻腐鸡皮、麻饮细粉、素签沙糖、冰雪冷元子、水晶角儿、生淹水木瓜、药木瓜、鸡头穰沙糖、绿豆、甘草冰雪凉水、荔枝膏、广芥瓜儿、咸菜、杏片、梅子姜、莴苣笋、芥辣瓜儿、细料馉饳儿、香糖果子、间道糖荔枝、越梅、刀紫苏膏、金丝党梅、香枨元，皆用梅红匣儿盛贮。冬月盘兔旋炙、猪皮肉、野鸭肉、滴酥水晶脍、煎角子、猪脏之类，直至龙津桥须脑子肉止，谓之杂嚼，直至三更。 谁要是以为现在自己比古人过得好，就看看这段，因为篇幅的关系，其他大量饮食的细节以及闹元宵等集市的热闹劲就不再介绍了。
鼠尾續貂
作者：wavyfly 发布时间：2019-11-25 11:15:48
#
書
# 2019《Find Me》3/10
作者：André Aciman
出版社：Farrar, Straus and Giroux
出版時間：2019-10-29
頁數：224
精簡版：單獨讀書筆記
到底是什麼支撐我讀完這兩百多頁的贗品的？是憤怒！除此以外我想不到任何理由！
已經做好了是狗尾續貂的心理準備，但還是心存僥倖：來個老套王子和王子從此幸福地柴米油鹽happily ever after也是可以接受的嘛。
沒想到……沒想到！
Aciman絕對是被《Call Me By Your Name》的成功沖昏了頭腦，根本沒有思考好這本書到底要講什麼，頭重腳輕，結尾江郎才盡，只能戈然而止——假如以作品是否引發情緒作為判斷標準的話，這本書絕對超越上一本——讀得一肚子火，不知道是生氣作者硬生生打碎一個夢，還是痛恨自己為什麼手賤忍不住非要讀！
閱讀目錄時候，還在佩服Aciman的想法，四個章節命名Tempo，Cadenza，Capriccio和Da Capo看上去像是又一首精彩的樂曲，但閱讀過程腦裡響著的是廉價馬戲團配樂——喜怒哀樂刻意為之，故事轉換依靠著kitsch的"Find Me"硬生生串起來，連超市收銀台前的愛情小說都比它來的合理耐讀。
《Tempo》
如果這本書不是擦著《Call Me By Your Name》的邊，這一章勉強可以擠進中年危機男YY書籍列表：中年大學教授火車上偶遇年輕女攝影師，一兩句話就已經認為對方是人生難得知己，故作姿態互相試探，失而復得後攤開心扉，血腥情話加上激情床戰，最後走上婚姻殿堂……
他們兩個一步步心意全開，在跨越的邊緣來回踱步，男龜毛又賊心，還好女追男隔層紗，羅馬夜空下又多了對癡男怨女——Aciman擅長的人物心理描寫，嘮嘮叨叨把這一切刻畫得如同油畫般細膩厚實。故事的確老套，但消遣讀讀還是可以的。
I looked at her once again, still uncertain what all this added up to. Just don’t make me hope, Miranda, don’t. I didn’t even want to raise the subject with her because that would be hoping too.
And always, as ever, the clock is ticking. In the end, I stopped waiting, because I stopped believing that you’d stray into my life because I no longer trusted you existed. Everything else happened in my life—Miss Margutta, my marriage, Italy, my son, my career, my books—but you didn’t. I stopped waiting and learned to live without you. “What was it that you so desperately wanted in those years?” “Someone who knew me inside out, who was me in you, basically.”
土味情話和血腥情話的混合，讓人有點跳tone，可基本符合人物性格和情節推進，就不挑刺了。
Some people may be brokenhearted not because they’ve been hurt but because they’ve never found someone who mattered enough to hurt them.
But she looked upset and I thought there were tears welling in her eyes. “Everything I have is yours. Not much, I know,” she said. I let a palm rub the tears down from the side of her face. “Everything you have I’ve never had. What more is there to want?”
“You do make me love who I am.”
“If I could open your body and slip into it and sew you back from the inside, I would do it, so I could cradle your quiet dreams and let you dream mine. I’d be the rib that hasn’t become me yet, happy to hang on and, as you said, see the world with your eyes, not mine, and hear you echo my thoughts and think they’re yours.”
關於"living and time are not aligned and have entirely different itineraries."是本書僅有的亮點，新瓶老酒，但酒味依然濃厚醇香，細品一下頗有感觸。
Some of us never jumped to the next level. We lost track of where we were headed and as a result stayed where we started.”
“Perhaps because I am always trying to retrace my steps back to a spot where I should have jumped on the ferryboat headed to the other bank called life but ended up dawdling on the wrong wharf or, with my luck, took the wrong ferryboat altogether. ”
“Aren’t those the absolute worst scenarios: the things that might have happened but never did and might still happen though we’ve given up hoping they could.”
Some lives wait their turn because they haven’t been lived at all, while others die before they’ve lived out their time, and some are waiting to be relived because they haven’t been lived enough. Basically, we don’t know how to think of time, because time doesn’t really understand time the way we do, because time couldn’t care less what we think of time, because time is just a wobbly, unreliable metaphor for how we think about life. Because ultimately it isn’t time that is wrong for us, or we for time. It may be life itself that is wrong.”
“Everything in my life was merely prologue until now, merely delay, merely pastime, merely waste of time until I came to know you.”
"I like to come back later in the evening when it grows dark to watch the apartment. Then if a light goes on at my old windows, my heart just bursts.” “Why?” “Because part of me probably hasn’t given up wanting to turn back the clock. Or hasn’t quite accepted that I’ve moved on—if indeed I did move on. Perhaps all I truly want is to reconnect with the person I used to be and lost track of and simply turned my back on once I moved elsewhere. I may never want to be who I was in those days, but I do want to see him again, just for a minute or so to find out who this person is who hasn’t even left the wife he hasn’t met yet, and who is still so far from knowing he’ll be a father someday. The young man upstairs knows nothing of this, and part of me wants to bring him up-to-date and let him know I’m still alive, that I haven’t changed, and that I’m standing outside here right now—”
所有以上這些好感，或者說不厭惡感，被作者刻意做作的故事設定完全摧毀。有必要讓女主角青年時3P勾引哥哥xx嗎？！是為了推進之後和第一男主角的SM？前面的中老年小清新，是人格分裂，對嘛？！
The friend did not hesitate, and was right away on top of me. He was done in seconds. But now comes the part I’ll never live down. It seemed such a silly game that I told my brother it was his turn, and even shamed him for hesitating, which was when I realized—and not before—that the whole thing with his friend was simply a ruse on my part, because I wanted my brother, and I wanted him to make love to me, not just fuck me, because it would have been the most natural thing between us, and perhaps this is what lovemaking is. Even his friend urged him on. I’d rather not, she’s my sister—I’ll never forget his words. He stood up, pulled up his jeans, and lay back down on the bed and continued watching TV.
I aped the gesture and gave her face a soft tap. “Harder, much, much harder, front and backhand.” So I slapped her once, which startled her, but she straightaway turned the other cheek, to indicate that I should slap the other as well, which I did, and she said, “Again.” “I don’t like hurting people,” I said. “Yes, but now we are as close as people who’ve lived three hundred years together, it’s your language too, whether you like it or not. You love the taste, I love it too, now kiss me.” She kissed me and I kissed her.
寫完這章總結，我覺得不應該再浪費時間，因為全書最拿得出手的這章是如此庸俗老套。下面幾章更是不堪，不得不懷疑作者是為了收割粉絲的錢，比網絡爽文還不如的水平！！
《Cadenza》
如果說第一章還能看看，我拒絕接受陳腔濫調的第二章。
精蟲上腦，心智永遠不成熟的Elio從17歲到30歲毫無成長，這對於粉絲簡直就是核爆級別的摧毀！這人生十幾年白活了？閱人無數，原來只局限在肉慾的宣洩？曾經那個靈性十足的小毛頭，也就是一慾望的黑洞？
“How many after him?” he asked. “Not many. All short-lived. Men and women.” “Why?” “Maybe because I never really let go or lose myself with others. After an instant of passion, I always fall back to being the autonomous me.”
“Because you and he are the standard. Now that I think of it, there’s only been the two of you. All the others were occasionals. You have given me days that justify the years I’ve been without him.”
連標點符號都在無病呻吟，令到其中難得的幾句“真理”都讓人覺得是故作姿態，讀者完全無法進入共振心態。
Sometimes it’s best to stop things when they’re perfect rather than race on and watch them sour.
Fate works forward, backward, and crisscrosses sideways and couldn’t care less how we scan its purposes with our rickety little befores and afters.”
You die and then no one speaks of you, and before you know it, no one asks, no one tells, no one even knows or wants to know. You’re extinct, you never lived, never loved. Time never casts shadows and memory doesn’t drop ashes.
Life is not so original after all. It has uncanny ways of reminding us that, even without a God, there is a flash of retrospective brilliance in the way fate plays its cards. It doesn’t deal us fifty-two cards; it deals, say, four or five, and they happen to be the same ones our parents and grandparents and great-grandparents played. The cards look pretty frayed and bent. The choice of sequences is limited: at some point the cards will repeat themselves, seldom in the same order, but always in a pattern that seems uncannily familiar. Sometimes the last card is not even played by the one whose life ended. Fate doesn’t always respect what we believe is the end of a life. It will deal your last card to those who come after. Which is why I think all lives are condemned to remain unfinished. This is the deplorable truth we all live with. We reach the end and are by no means done with life, not by a long stretch! There are projects we barely started, matters unresolved and left hanging everywhere. Living means dying with regrets stuck in your craw. As the French poet says, Le temps d’apprendre à vivre il est déjà trop tard, by the time we learn to live, it’s already too late. And yet there must be some small joy in finding that we are each put in a position to complete the lives of others, to close the ledger they left open and play their last card for them. What could be more gratifying than to know that it will always be up to someone else to complete and round off our life? Someone whom we loved and who loves us enough.
特別是為了主題Find Me沒頭沒腦的尋找失蹤猶太故人，忍著怒氣看到章節結尾居然尋人就不了了之？愛情不愛情，肉慾不肉慾，偵探不偵探，亂七八糟的大雜燴，Aciman真的知道自己在寫什麼嗎？
《Capriccio》
為了Oliver，皺著眉打開第三章：炫技的文字和結構，Aciman嘗試讓Oliver把對Elio的思念投射到兩個年輕人身上，但人物無厘頭的上場和離開，刻意得讓人火遮眼——Aciman你認為這樣隨意擺弄無辜他人的自私，是這段感情最好的註腳？！
You fool, it takes two of them to make one of me. I can be man and woman, or both, because you’ve been both to me. Find me, Oliver. Find me.
The only one who doesn’t know is you. But now even you know. You’ve been disloyal. To what, to whom? To yourself.
Why? Because my life stopped there. Because I never really left. Because the rest of me here has been like the severed tail of a lizard that flays and lashes about, while the body’s stayed behind all the way across the Atlantic in that wonderful house by the sea. I’ve been away for far too long. Are you leaving me? I think so. And the children too? I’ll always be their father. And when is this happening? I don’t know. Soon. I can’t say I’m surprised.
This was what death was like: you see people but they don’t see you, and worse yet, you’re trapped being who you were in the moment you died—buying corrugated boxes—and you never changed into the one person you could have been and knew you really were, and you never redressed the one mistake that threw your life off course and now you were forever trapped doing the very last stupid thing you were doing, buying corrugated boxes and tape. I was forty-four years old. I was already dead—and yet too young, too young to die.
《Da Capo》
浪費了《Da Capo》“返始”如此美麗的一個標題，作者選擇了一個庸俗到讓人發指的大團圓結尾，兩個渣男手牽手走向夕陽。
也罷也罷，有了結局，讀者夢就該醒了，童話真的是騙人的。
the lure of bygone days had never left him, that he had forgotten nothing and didn’t want to forget, and that even if he couldn’t write or call to see whether I too had forgotten nothing, still, he knew that though neither of us sought out the other it was only because we had never really parted and that, regardless of where we were, who we were with, and whatever stood in our way, all he needed when the time was right was simply to come and find me. “And you did.” “And I did,” he said.
情節勉強，結構混亂，文筆呻吟。如果不是看了Aciman的採訪，根本不敢相信這是他的作品，更不敢相信這是回應全球粉絲對Call Me By Your Name續集的呼喊。
鼠尾續貂，這本書絕對不應該出現，絕對！
詳細版：讀書筆記+相關摘錄
到底是什麼支撐我讀完這兩百多頁的贗品的？是憤怒！除此以外我想不到任何理由！
已經做好了是狗尾續貂的心理準備，但還是心存僥倖：來個老套王子和王子從此幸福地柴米油鹽happily ever after也是可以接受的嘛。
沒想到……沒想到！
Aciman絕對是被《Call Me By Your Name》的成功沖昏了頭腦，根本沒有思考好這本書到底要講什麼，頭重腳輕，結尾江郎才盡，只能戈然而止——假如以作品是否引發情緒作為判斷標準的話，這本書絕對超越上一本——讀得一肚子火，不知道是生氣作者硬生生打碎一個夢，還是痛恨自己為什麼手賤忍不住非要讀！
閱讀目錄時候，還在佩服Aciman的想法，四個章節命名Tempo，Cadenza，Capriccio和Da Capo看上去像是又一首精彩的樂曲，但閱讀過程腦裡響著的是廉價馬戲團配樂——喜怒哀樂刻意為之，故事轉換依靠著kitsch的"Find Me"硬生生串起來，連超市收銀台前的愛情小說都比它來的合理耐讀。
《Tempo》
如果這本書不是擦著《Call Me By Your Name》的邊，這一章勉強可以擠進中年危機男YY書籍列表：中年大學教授火車上偶遇年輕女攝影師，一兩句話就已經認為對方是人生難得知己，故作姿態互相試探，失而復得後攤開心扉，血腥情話加上激情床戰，最後走上婚姻殿堂……
他們兩個一步步心意全開，在跨越的邊緣來回踱步，男龜毛又賊心，還好女追男隔層紗，羅馬夜空下又多了對癡男怨女——Aciman擅長的人物心理描寫，嘮嘮叨叨把這一切刻畫得如同油畫般細膩厚實。故事的確老套，但消遣讀讀還是可以的。
I looked at her once again, still uncertain what all this added up to. Just don’t make me hope, Miranda, don’t. I didn’t even want to raise the subject with her because that would be hoping too.
And always, as ever, the clock is ticking. In the end, I stopped waiting, because I stopped believing that you’d stray into my life because I no longer trusted you existed. Everything else happened in my life—Miss Margutta, my marriage, Italy, my son, my career, my books—but you didn’t. I stopped waiting and learned to live without you. “What was it that you so desperately wanted in those years?” “Someone who knew me inside out, who was me in you, basically.”
while staring at my open book, I caught myself struggling to come up with something to say, if only to help defuse what had all the bearings of a gathering storm about to erupt in our little corner at the very end of the car. Then I thought twice about it. Better to leave her alone and go on with my reading. But when I caught her looking at me, I couldn’t help myself: “Why so glum?” I asked.
I loved that what I’d just said had caught her by surprise.
“Maybe you’re not the kind who opens up to people.” “But I’m speaking with you.” “I’m a stranger, and with strangers opening up is easy.”
We stared at each other. I liked her warm and trusting smile; it suggested something frail and genuine, perhaps even vulnerable. No wonder the men in her life closed in on her. They knew what they were losing the moment she turned her eyes away. Out went the smile, or the languor when she asked heart-to-heart questions while staring with those piercing green eyes that never let up, out the disquieting need for intimacy that her glance tore out of every man when your eyes happened to lock on her in a public space and you knew there went your life. She was doing it right now. She made intimacy want to happen, made it easy, as if you’d always had it in you to give, and were craving to share it but realized you’d never find it in yourself unless it was with her. I wanted to hold her, touch her hand, let a finger drift along her forehead.
A side of me thought she’d leaned even more toward me and had thought of standing up to move to the seat next to me and put both hands in mine. Had this crossed her mind and was I seizing on her wish to do so, or was I simply making it up because the wish was in me?
Miranda put down her fork and lit a cigarette. I watched her shake the match with a decisive hand motion before dropping it into an ashtray. How strong and invulnerable she suddenly seemed. She was showing her other side, the one that sizes people up and makes hasty indictments, then shuts them off and never lets them back in except when she weakens, only to hold it against them that she did. Men were like matches: they caught fire and were shaken off and dropped in the first ashtray that came her way. I watched her take in her first puff. Yes, willful and unbending. Smoking with her face turned away from us made her look so distant and heartless. The type who always gets her way. Not exactly the good girl who doesn’t like to see people hurt.
“I sense, though, that part of you may not like being told you’re not happy.” I attempted a polite nod that also meant I’m just going along with what you’re saying and won’t argue. “But the good part is—” she added, then caught herself once again. “The good part is?” I asked. “The good part is I don’t think you’ve closed the book or given up looking. For happiness, I mean. I like this about you.” I didn’t answer—perhaps my silence was the answer.
Without giving it another thought, I found myself holding both her hands on the lapels of my jacket against my chest. I had planned nothing of the sort but simply let myself go and touched her forehead with my palm. I’ve seldom been this impulsive and to show I didn’t mean to cross a line began buttoning my jacket.
I tried to withdraw but caressed her forehead one last time. Then kissed it. This time I stared at her, she wouldn’t look away. And in a gesture that caught me totally by surprise again and seemed to spring from who knows how many years back, I let my fingertip touch her on the chin, softly, the way a grown-up might hold a child’s chin between his thumb and forefinger to prevent it from crying, sensing all along, as she did herself, that, if she didn’t move, this caress on the chin was probably a prelude to what I did next, when I allowed my finger to travel along her lower lip—back and forth, back and forth. She did not move away but continued to stare at me. Nor could I tell whether I had offended her by touching her forehead this way, or whether, taken aback, she was still mulling over how to react. And still she continued to stare, bold and unbending.
The words we’d spoken were sufficiently vague for us not to know what the other meant or what we ourselves meant, yet we both immediately sensed, without knowing why, that we’d seized the other’s underlying meaning precisely because it wasn’t spoken.
“Maybe because you’re not a present-tense kind of person. This, for instance, is the present tense,” she said, reaching over and kissing me on the lips. It was not a full kiss, but it lingered and she let her tongue touch my lips. “And you smell good,” she said. Okay, I am fourteen now, I thought.
I’d been alone for ever so long, even when I thought I wasn’t alone—and the taste of something as real as blood was far, far better than the taste of just nothing, of wasted and barren years, so many years.
土味情話和血腥情話的混合，讓人有點跳tone，可基本符合人物性格和情節推進，就不挑刺了。
Some people may be brokenhearted not because they’ve been hurt but because they’ve never found someone who mattered enough to hurt them.
But she looked upset and I thought there were tears welling in her eyes. “Everything I have is yours. Not much, I know,” she said. I let a palm rub the tears down from the side of her face. “Everything you have I’ve never had. What more is there to want?”
“You do make me love who I am.”
“If I could open your body and slip into it and sew you back from the inside, I would do it, so I could cradle your quiet dreams and let you dream mine. I’d be the rib that hasn’t become me yet, happy to hang on and, as you said, see the world with your eyes, not mine, and hear you echo my thoughts and think they’re yours.”
關於"living and time are not aligned and have entirely different itineraries."是本書僅有的亮點，新瓶老酒，但酒味依然濃厚醇香，細品一下頗有感觸。
Some of us never jumped to the next level. We lost track of where we were headed and as a result stayed where we started.”
“Perhaps because I am always trying to retrace my steps back to a spot where I should have jumped on the ferryboat headed to the other bank called life but ended up dawdling on the wrong wharf or, with my luck, took the wrong ferryboat altogether. ”
“Aren’t those the absolute worst scenarios: the things that might have happened but never did and might still happen though we’ve given up hoping they could.”
Some lives wait their turn because they haven’t been lived at all, while others die before they’ve lived out their time, and some are waiting to be relived because they haven’t been lived enough. Basically, we don’t know how to think of time, because time doesn’t really understand time the way we do, because time couldn’t care less what we think of time, because time is just a wobbly, unreliable metaphor for how we think about life. Because ultimately it isn’t time that is wrong for us, or we for time. It may be life itself that is wrong.”
“Everything in my life was merely prologue until now, merely delay, merely pastime, merely waste of time until I came to know you.”
"I like to come back later in the evening when it grows dark to watch the apartment. Then if a light goes on at my old windows, my heart just bursts.” “Why?” “Because part of me probably hasn’t given up wanting to turn back the clock. Or hasn’t quite accepted that I’ve moved on—if indeed I did move on. Perhaps all I truly want is to reconnect with the person I used to be and lost track of and simply turned my back on once I moved elsewhere. I may never want to be who I was in those days, but I do want to see him again, just for a minute or so to find out who this person is who hasn’t even left the wife he hasn’t met yet, and who is still so far from knowing he’ll be a father someday. The young man upstairs knows nothing of this, and part of me wants to bring him up-to-date and let him know I’m still alive, that I haven’t changed, and that I’m standing outside here right now—”
所有以上這些好感，或者說不厭惡感，被作者刻意做作的故事設定完全摧毀。有必要讓女主角青年時3P勾引哥哥xx嗎？！是為了推進之後和第一男主角的SM？前面的中老年小清新，是人格分裂，對嘛？！
The friend did not hesitate, and was right away on top of me. He was done in seconds. But now comes the part I’ll never live down. It seemed such a silly game that I told my brother it was his turn, and even shamed him for hesitating, which was when I realized—and not before—that the whole thing with his friend was simply a ruse on my part, because I wanted my brother, and I wanted him to make love to me, not just fuck me, because it would have been the most natural thing between us, and perhaps this is what lovemaking is. Even his friend urged him on. I’d rather not, she’s my sister—I’ll never forget his words. He stood up, pulled up his jeans, and lay back down on the bed and continued watching TV.
I aped the gesture and gave her face a soft tap. “Harder, much, much harder, front and backhand.” So I slapped her once, which startled her, but she straightaway turned the other cheek, to indicate that I should slap the other as well, which I did, and she said, “Again.” “I don’t like hurting people,” I said. “Yes, but now we are as close as people who’ve lived three hundred years together, it’s your language too, whether you like it or not. You love the taste, I love it too, now kiss me.” She kissed me and I kissed her.
寫完這章總結，我覺得不應該再浪費時間，因為全書最拿得出手的這章是如此庸俗老套。下面幾章更是不堪，不得不懷疑作者是為了收割粉絲的錢，比網絡爽文還不如的水平！！
《Cadenza》
如果說第一章還能看看，我拒絕接受陳腔濫調的第二章。
精蟲上腦，心智永遠不成熟的Elio從17歲到30歲毫無成長，這對於粉絲簡直就是核爆級別的摧毀！這人生十幾年白活了？閱人無數，原來只局限在肉慾的宣洩？曾經那個靈性十足的小毛頭，也就是一慾望的黑洞？
“How many after him?” he asked. “Not many. All short-lived. Men and women.” “Why?” “Maybe because I never really let go or lose myself with others. After an instant of passion, I always fall back to being the autonomous me.”
“Because you and he are the standard. Now that I think of it, there’s only been the two of you. All the others were occasionals. You have given me days that justify the years I’ve been without him.”
So saying he put a wise, gently patronizing arm around my shoulder. I don’t know why, but I reached for the hand that had rested on my shoulder and touched it. It had happened so seamlessly that I looked at him and we both smiled, which allowed his hand, which would most likely have left the spot, to stay just a moment longer. He turned but then looked at me once more, and I felt a sudden urge to hurl myself against him and put my arms around his upper waist right under his jacket. He must have felt something along those lines as well, because in the awkward silence that followed what he’d just said, he kept staring and I was staring back, totally undaunted, until it hit me that perhaps I had read all the signals wrong and I began to want to look away. I liked that his eyes lingered on me still, it made me feel handsome and desirable, something soft, caressing that I wanted to hold in place and didn’t want to escape from except by burrowing into his chest. I liked the promise, in his gaze, of something totally kind and guileless.
He didn’t say anything; he simply nodded. But his wasn’t a nod of affirmation, meaning yes; it was the pensive, distracted, wistful nod of someone who normally chooses not to believe a word he’s heard.
he placed a lingering palm on my cheek—a gesture that completely threw me off and left me feeling shaken and overcome with emotion. It had caught me by surprise. I wanted us to kiss. Just kiss me, will you, if only to help me get over being so visibly flustered.
“Don’t let me go home tonight, Michel,” I said. I know I blushed saying this, and was already scrambling for ways to apologize and take back my words when he came to my rescue. “I was struggling to ask the very same thing but, once again, you beat me to it. The truth is,” he went on, “I don’t do this frequently. Actually, I haven’t done this in a long time.” “This?” I said, with a slight jeer in my voice. “This.”
He put down his glass, moved over to me, and kissed me lightly on the lips, almost diffidently, while, like the obliging soundtrack to our earlier kiss, I kept hearing behind the faint Brazilian singer playing in our room the sound of the elevator coming down to remind me that kissing to the sound of an old elevator going up and down the stairwell was like kissing under the patter of falling rain on a rooftop in the country, and that I liked the sound and didn’t want it to end because I felt snug, protected, and safe under its spell, because, without intruding on us, it gave a voice to the world outside his living room and reminded me that all this was not just happening in my mind. What he was really asking perhaps was for us to take our time and not hurry, and, if need be, backtrack if things went faster than either of us wanted. This I had never done before. Then he kissed me a second time, also lightly.
連標點符號都在無病呻吟，令到其中難得的幾句“真理”都讓人覺得是故作姿態，讀者完全無法進入共振心態。
Sometimes it’s best to stop things when they’re perfect rather than race on and watch them sour.
Fate works forward, backward, and crisscrosses sideways and couldn’t care less how we scan its purposes with our rickety little befores and afters.”
You die and then no one speaks of you, and before you know it, no one asks, no one tells, no one even knows or wants to know. You’re extinct, you never lived, never loved. Time never casts shadows and memory doesn’t drop ashes.
Life is not so original after all. It has uncanny ways of reminding us that, even without a God, there is a flash of retrospective brilliance in the way fate plays its cards. It doesn’t deal us fifty-two cards; it deals, say, four or five, and they happen to be the same ones our parents and grandparents and great-grandparents played. The cards look pretty frayed and bent. The choice of sequences is limited: at some point the cards will repeat themselves, seldom in the same order, but always in a pattern that seems uncannily familiar. Sometimes the last card is not even played by the one whose life ended. Fate doesn’t always respect what we believe is the end of a life. It will deal your last card to those who come after. Which is why I think all lives are condemned to remain unfinished. This is the deplorable truth we all live with. We reach the end and are by no means done with life, not by a long stretch! There are projects we barely started, matters unresolved and left hanging everywhere. Living means dying with regrets stuck in your craw. As the French poet says, Le temps d’apprendre à vivre il est déjà trop tard, by the time we learn to live, it’s already too late. And yet there must be some small joy in finding that we are each put in a position to complete the lives of others, to close the ledger they left open and play their last card for them. What could be more gratifying than to know that it will always be up to someone else to complete and round off our life? Someone whom we loved and who loves us enough.
特別是為了主題Find Me沒頭沒腦的尋找失蹤猶太故人，忍著怒氣看到章節結尾居然尋人就不了了之？愛情不愛情，肉慾不肉慾，偵探不偵探，亂七八糟的大雜燴，Aciman真的知道自己在寫什麼嗎？
《Capriccio》
為了Oliver，皺著眉打開第三章：炫技的文字和結構，Aciman嘗試讓Oliver把對Elio的思念投射到兩個年輕人身上，但人物無厘頭的上場和離開，刻意得讓人火遮眼——Aciman你認為這樣隨意擺弄無辜他人的自私，是這段感情最好的註腳？！
You fool, it takes two of them to make one of me. I can be man and woman, or both, because you’ve been both to me. Find me, Oliver. Find me.
The only one who doesn’t know is you. But now even you know. You’ve been disloyal. To what, to whom? To yourself.
Why? Because my life stopped there. Because I never really left. Because the rest of me here has been like the severed tail of a lizard that flays and lashes about, while the body’s stayed behind all the way across the Atlantic in that wonderful house by the sea. I’ve been away for far too long. Are you leaving me? I think so. And the children too? I’ll always be their father. And when is this happening? I don’t know. Soon. I can’t say I’m surprised.
This was what death was like: you see people but they don’t see you, and worse yet, you’re trapped being who you were in the moment you died—buying corrugated boxes—and you never changed into the one person you could have been and knew you really were, and you never redressed the one mistake that threw your life off course and now you were forever trapped doing the very last stupid thing you were doing, buying corrugated boxes and tape. I was forty-four years old. I was already dead—and yet too young, too young to die.
《Da Capo》
浪費了《Da Capo》“返始”如此美麗的一個標題，作者選擇了一個庸俗到讓人發指的大團圓結尾，兩個渣男手牽手走向夕陽。
也罷也罷，有了結局，讀者夢就該醒了，童話真的是騙人的。
the lure of bygone days had never left him, that he had forgotten nothing and didn’t want to forget, and that even if he couldn’t write or call to see whether I too had forgotten nothing, still, he knew that though neither of us sought out the other it was only because we had never really parted and that, regardless of where we were, who we were with, and whatever stood in our way, all he needed when the time was right was simply to come and find me. “And you did.” “And I did,” he said.
情節勉強，結構混亂，文筆呻吟。如果不是看了Aciman的採訪，根本不敢相信這是他的作品，更不敢相信這是回應全球粉絲對Call Me By Your Name續集的呼喊。
鼠尾續貂，這本書絕對不應該出現，絕對！
書目錄
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Tempo
Cadenza
Capriccio
Da Capo
Also by André Aciman
A Note About the Author
Copyright
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- 网友 晏***媛： ( 2025-01-06 23:51:37 )
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- 网友 濮***彤： ( 2024-12-19 16:12:56 )
好棒啊！图书很全
- 网友 游***钰： ( 2024-12-25 23:27:12 )
用了才知道好用，推荐！太好用了
- 网友 谢***灵： ( 2024-12-15 12:53:52 )
推荐，啥格式都有
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- 网友 詹***萍： ( 2024-12-12 03:07:52 )
好评的，这是自己一直选择的下载书的网站
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为什么许多书都找不到？
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喜欢！很棒！！超级推荐！
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很好，能找到很多平常找不到的书。
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书籍真实打分
故事情节：5分
人物塑造：5分
主题深度：7分
文字风格：7分
语言运用：6分
文笔流畅：6分
思想传递：3分
知识深度：8分
知识广度：5分
实用性：8分
章节划分：5分
结构布局：5分
新颖与独特：9分
情感共鸣：9分
引人入胜：8分
现实相关：7分
沉浸感：5分
事实准确性：7分
文化贡献：7分