Editor's Choice
1.Nobel Prize winner in literature, Camus, Sartre's spiritual mentor Gide's masterpiece.
2.Li Yumin, winner of the Fu Lei Translation and Publishing Award, revised the detailed annotated version in 2022, with no deletions.
3.A classic work recommended by literary masters such as Sartre, Camus, Yu Hua, and Mo Yan.
Introduction
Cousin Alyssa and Jerome grew up together in the Normandy countryside.
Gradually, the seeds of love sprouted in them.
They mingle and fantasize about the advent of perfect love.
But when Alyssa saw what married life really was, she began to wonder about it.
She wants to pursue eternal love in this world, but this door of love is actually a narrow door, and only a few people can find ...... after all
About the Author
Andre; Gide (1869-1951).
French writer, spiritual mentor of Sartre and Camus, and winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature. Gide was born in Paris and wrote many **, essays, and plays during his lifetime. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1947. "The Narrow Gate" is a semi-autobiographical work created by Gide, and it is also a representative work of his critical art, which is called "a work of awakening" by Gide himself.
Li Yumin. French literary translator and scholar, professor at Capital Normal University, winner of the Fu Lei Translation and Publishing Award in 2010. His representative translations include "The Myth of Sisyphus", "The Outsider", "The Narrow Gate" and so on. He is the editor-in-chief of "The Collected Works of Gide" and so on.
Wonderful book review
To his extensive and highly artistic writings: these works present the problems and situations of human nature, demonstrate the author's keen psychological insight, and his fearless love of truth.
Speech at the time of awarding the Gide Nobel Prize in Literature in 1947.
The various ideas of France, whether people want it or not, and regardless of their ins and outs, should also be positioned with reference to Gide.
Nobel Prize winner in literature, Sartre.
Gide dominated my youth.
Camus, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 001
Chapter II 017
Chapter III 041
Chapter IV 053
Chapter 5 069
Chapter VI 097
CHAPTER VII 107
CHAPTER VIII 129
2024 Book of AnswersWonderful book excerptsThe experience I'm talking about here might be written into a book by someone else; And I did my best to get through it, and I had exhausted my virtues, and I could only write down my memories very simply. These memories sometimes seem fragmented, but I don't want to make up anything to make up or connect them—the effort spent on the finishing will only detract from the last pleasure I hope to get from telling it.
When I lost my father, I was not yet 12 years old, and my mother, believing that Le Havre, who had been a doctor before my father's death, had no concern, decided to take me to Paris so that I could finish my studies with better grades. She rented a small house near the Jardin du Luxembourg, and Miss Flora Asburton moved in with her. This young lady had no family, she was my mother's elementary school teacher, and she stayed with my mother ever since, and soon the two became good friends. I have always lived between these two women, and their expressions are equally gentle and sad, and it seems to me that they were always dressed in mourning clothes. One day, thinking that my father had died for a long time, I saw the ribbon on my mother's hat change from black to lilac, and I exclaimed in surprise, "Oh! Mom, it's too ugly for you to wear this color! ”
The next day, she changed into a black ribbon again.
I'm thin. My mother and Miss Asburton took great care of me, fearing that I would be tired, but fortunately I did like to study, so they did not raise me to be a lazy man. When the weather is pleasant, they think that the city has pale my face and that I should leave it. So as soon as we entered the middle of June, we set off for the Fingersmar Grange on the outskirts of Le Havre, where our uncle Bucorin lived and received us every summer.
The garden of the Bucoran family is not very large, nor is it very beautiful, and it is not very special compared to the other gardens of Normandy. The house is a small white two-storey building, resembling many eighteenth-century country houses. The small building sits west and faces east, facing the garden, with about 20 large windows on each side of the front and back, and walls on both sides. The windows are lined with small squares of glass, some of which are new and very bright, while the old glass around them is a dull green, and some of the glass is flawed, which our elders called "bubbles". Looking through the glass, the trees are crooked, and when the postman passes by, his body suddenly bulges, as if he has a tumor.
The garden is rectangular in shape and surrounded by a wall. In front of the house, a sizable lawn is shaded by greenery and surrounded by a gravel path. The fence on this side is a bit low, and you can see the farm compound surrounding the garden. The boundary of the compound is a beech boulevard built according to local rules.
The small building faces to the west, and the garden is more expansive. Near the south wall there is a flower path, sheltered by a thick barrier of Portuguese laurel trees and several other large trees below the wall, which is not protected from the sea breeze. There is also a flower path along the north wall, hidden in the dense bushes, which my cousins call the "black path", and I dare not rush to it at dusk. Follow the two paths down a few steps to the vegetable garden, which is the continuation of the garden. A small secret door was opened in the wall at the edge of the garden, and outside the wall was a low wood, where the beech boulevard on the left and right met. Standing on the west staircase, you can look beyond the low forest and see the plateau and admire the crops growing on the plateau. Looking further to the horizon, you can see the church in a small village not far away, and in the evening breeze, you can also see the smoke of several houses in the village.
On a clear summer evening, after dinner, we went to the "Lower Garden", exited the small secret door, and walked onto the boulevard overlooking the surrounding scenery. Once there, my uncle, mother, and Miss Asburton sat down by the hut in the abandoned peat quarry. Before our eyes, the small valley was filled with mist, and the trees a little farther away were dyed golden yellow. Then, as the twilight wore on, we lingered in the garden. My aunt almost never went out for a walk with us, and every time we came back, we could always see her in ......the living roomFor us children, that was the end of the evening, but we often went back to the bedroom to read, and after a while we heard the adults go upstairs to rest.