飘（英文原版）

This story follows Scarlett O'Hara, a strong-willed Southern woman. It explores themes of love, survival, and the impact of historical events. Throughout the novel, Scarlett undergoes significant personal growth and faces various challenges during the turbulent times of the Civil War and Reconstruction era. ‘After all, to-morrow is another day. ‘ this is my favorite, It's a beautiful and inspiring sentence. The idea that tomorrow brings new possibilities and a fresh start can be quite uplifting.

非常值得一看的书！书名翻译的无与伦比，有的翻译成乱世佳人，虽然贴题但格局小了。还是飘这个名字太厉害了！能翻译出这个名字的绝对是大师！！！南北战争后，奴隶解放，南方庄园生活，过去的一切都会随风而逝。记得大学毕业论文写的就是书中女二玫兰尼，虽然斯嘉丽也光芒四射，为了角度，所以另辟蹊径选了女二。论文拿到了96分。开解朋友或者自己时，我经常用书中结尾那句tomorrow is another day！我爱斯嘉丽那样的女子，充满热情和能量，为了她深爱的土地，她的塔拉庄园和家人，做出的牺牲，她永远知道自己要什么，从不怕世俗的目光和留言，所以，瑞德也深爱着她。可我永远成为不了那样的女子。一切都将随风而逝！

看了中文版，意犹未尽。来看看英文版

书是好书，但是电子版里太多乱码，影响阅读。

2022年6月20日 星期一 祝福早安 天气多云 气温18℃《飘》 最近我的人生就像《飘》的翻版 我没有考博成功也没有找到工作 我不知道未来我能够去哪里漂泊 但我依然期待着无比美好的未来 如果你想走信心的道路 不要期待你能透视未来 ——戴德生 我想要走信心的道路 所以不需要知道未来 而是努力活好每一天 Her hands were chilled and she paused to rub them together and to scuff her feet deeper into the strip of old quilting wrapped about them. The soles of her slippers were practically gone and were reinforced with pieces of carpet. The carpet kept her feet off the floor but did little to keep them warm. That morning Will had taken the horse to Jonesboro to get him shod. Scarlett thought grimly that things were indeed at a pretty pass when horses had shoes and people's feet were as bare as yard dogs’ . She picked up her quill to resume her writing but laid it down when she heard Will coming in at the back door. She heard the thump-thump of his wooden leg in the hall outside the office and then he stopped. She waited for a moment for him to enter and when he made no move she called to him. He came in, his ears red from the cold, his pinkish hair awry, and stood looking down at her, a faintly humorous smile on his lips. ‘Miss Scarlett, ’ he questioned, ‘just how much cash money have you got? ’ ‘Are you going to try to marry me for my money, Will? ’ she asked somewhat crossly. Will sat down on the sofa and rubbed the stump of his leg. It ached in cold weather and the wooden peg was neither well padded nor comfortable. Scarlett looked at him wildly. His manner was so casual when he was sounding the death-knell of Tara. Sold out at the sheriff's sale? Where would they all go? And Tara belonging to someone else! No, that was unthinkable! She had been so engrossed with the job of making Tara produce she had paid little heed to what was going on in the world outside. Now that she had Will and Ashley to attend to whatever business she might have in Jonesboro and Fayetteville, she seldom left the plantation. And even as she had listened with deaf ears to her father's war talk in the days before the war came, so she had paid little heed to Will and Ashley's discussions around the table after supper about the beginnings of Reconstruction. Oh, of course, she knew about the Scallawags-Southerners who had turned Republican very profitably-and the Carpetbaggers, those Yankees who came South like buzzards after the surrender with all their worldly possessions in one carpet-bag. And she had had a few unpleasant experiences with the Freedmen's Bureau. She had gathered, also, that some of the free negroes were getting quite insolent. This last she could hardly believe, for she had never seen an insolent negro in her life. But there were many things which Will and Ashley had conspired to keep from her. The scourge of war had been followed by the worse scourge of Reconstruction, but the two men had agreed not to mention the more alarming details when they discussed the situation at home. And when Scarlett took the trouble to listen to them at all, most of what they said went in one ear and out the other. She had heard Ashley say that the South was being treated as a conquered province and that vindictiveness was the dominant policy of the conquerors. But that was the kind of statement which meant less than nothing at all to Scarlett. Politics was men's business. She had heard Will say it looked to him like the North just wasn't aiming to let the South get on its feet again. Well, thought Scarlett, men always had to have something foolish to worry about. As far as she was concerned, the Yankees hadn't whipped her once and they wouldn't do it this time. The thing to do was to work like the devil and stop worrying about the Yankee government. After all, the war was over. Scarlett did not realize that all the rules of the game had been changed and that honest labour could no longer earn its just reward. Georgia was virtually under martial law now. The Yankee soldiers garrisoned throughout the section and the Freedmen's Bureau were in complete command of everything and they were fixing the rules to suit themselves. SHE did have fun, more fun than she had had since the spring before the war. New Orleans was such a strange, glamorous place and Scarlett enjoyed it with the headlong pleasure of a pardoned life prisoner. The Carpetbaggers were looting the town, many honest folk were driven from their homes and did not know where to look for their next meal, and a negro sat in the lieutenant-governor's chair. But the New Orleans Rhett showed her was the gayest place she had ever seen. The people she met seemed to have all the money they wanted and no cares at all. Rhett introduced her to dozens of women, pretty women in bright gowns, women who had soft hands that showed no signs of hard work, women who laughed at everything and never talked of stupid serious things or hard times. And the men she met-how thrilling they were! And how different from Atlanta men-and how they fought to dance with her, and paid her the most extravagant compliments as though she were a young belle. These men had the same hard reckless look Rhett wore. Their eyes were always alert, like men who have lived too long with danger to be ever quite careless. They seemed to have no pasts or futures, and they politely discouraged Scarlett when, to make conversation, she asked what or where they were before they came to New Orleans. That, in itself, was strange, for in Atlanta every respectable newcomer hastened to present his credentials, to tell proudly of his home and family, to trace the tortuous mazes of relationship that stretched over the entire South. But these men were a taciturn lot, picking their words carefully. Sometimes when Rhett was alone with them and Scarlett in the next room, she heard laughter and caught fragments of conversation that meant nothing to her, scraps of words, puzzling names-Cuba and Nassau in the blockade days, the gold rush and claim-jumping, gun-running and filibustering, Nicaragua and William Walker and how he died against a wall at Truxillo. Once her sudden entrance abruptly terminated a conversation about what had happened to the members of Quantrill's band of guerrillas, and she caught the names of Frank and Jesse James. But they were all well mannered, beautifully tailored, and they evidently admired her, so it mattered little to Scarlett that they chose to live utterly in the present. What really mattered was that they were Rhett's friends and had large houses and fine carriages, and they took her and Rhett driving, invited them to suppers, gave parties in their honour. And Scarlett liked them very well. Rhett was amused when she told him so. ‘I thought you would, ’ he said and laughed. ‘Why not? ’ her suspicions aroused as always by his laughter. ‘They're all second-raters, black sheep, rascals. They're all adventurers or Carpetbag aristocrats. They all made their money speculating in food like your loving husband or out of dubious government contracts or in shady ways that won't bear investigation. ’ ‘The nicest people in town are starving, ’ said Rhett. ‘And living politely in hovels, and I doubt if I‘d be received in those hovels. You see, my dear, I was engaged in some of my nefarious schemes here during the war and these people have devilish long memories! Scarlett, you are a constant joy to me. You unerringly manage to pick the wrong people and the wrong things. ’ ‘But they are your friends!’ ‘Oh, but I like rascals. My early youth was spent as a gambler on a river boat and I can understand people like that. But I'm not blind to what they are. Whereas you-’ he laughed again-‘you have no instinct about people, no discrimination between the cheap and the great. Sometimes, I think that the only great ladies you've ever associated with were your mother and Miss Melly and neither seems to have made any impression on you. ’ IN the time that followed her illness Scarlett noticed a change in Rhett and she was not altogether certain that she liked it. He was sober and quiet and preoccupied. He was at home more often for supper now and he was kinder to the servants and more affectionate to Wade and Ella. He never referred to anything in their past, pleasant or otherwise, and silently seemed to dare her to bring up such subjects. Scarlett held her peace, for it was easier to let well enough alone, and life went on smoothly enough, on the surface. His impersonal courtesy toward her that had begun during her convalescence continued and he did not fling softly drawled barbs at her or sting her with sarcasm, She realized now that though he had infuriated her with his malicious comments and roused her to heated rejoinders, he had done it because he cared what she did and said. Now she wondered if he cared about anything she did. He was polite and disinterested and she missed his interest, perverse though it had been, missed the old days of bickering and retort. He was pleasant to her now, almost as though she were a stranger; but, as his eyes had once followed her, they now followed Bonnie. It was as though the swift flood of his life had been diverted into one narrow channel. Sometimes Scarlett thought that if Rhett had given her one-half the attention and tenderness he lavished on Bonnie, life would have been different. Sometimes it was hard to smile when people said: ‘How Captain Butler idolizes that child!’ But, if she did not smile, people would think it strange and Scarlett hated to acknowledge, even to herself, that she was jealous of a little girl, especially when that little girl was her favourite child. Scarlett always wanted to be first in the hearts of those around her and it was obvious now that Rhett and Bonnie would always be first with each other. Rhett was out late many nights but he came home sober on these nights. Often she heard him whistling softly to himself as he went down the hall past her closed door. Sometimes men came home with him in the late hours and sat talking in the dining-room around the brandy decanter. They were not the same men with whom he had drunk the first year they were married. No rich Carpetbaggers, no Scallawags, no Republicans came to the house now at his invitation. Scarlett, creeping on tiptoe to the banister of the upstairs hall, listened and, to her amazement, frequently heard the voices of René Picard, Hugh Elsing, the Simmons boys and Andy Bonnell. And always Grandpa Merriwether and Uncle Henry were there. Once, to her astonishment, she heard the tones of Dr. Meade. And these men had once thought hanging too good for Rhett! This group was always linked in her mind with Frank's death, and the late hours Rhett kept these days reminded her still more of the times preceding the Klan foray when Frank lost his life. She remembered with dread Rhett's remark that he would even join their damned Klan to be respectable, though be hoped God would not lay so heavy a penance on his shoulders. Suppose Rhett, like Frank-- One night when he was out later than usual she could stand the strain no longer. When she heard the rasp of his key in the lock, she threw on a wrapper and, going into the gas-lit upper hall, met him at the top of the stairs. His expression, absent, thoughtful, changed to surprise when he saw her standing there. In the flaring gas-light he looked at her incuriously and then he smiled. ‘You are way behind the times, ’ he said. There is no Klan in Atlanta now. Probably not in Georgia. You‘ve been listening to the Klan outrage stories of your Scallawag and Carpetbagger friends. ’

读书时期读的原本，看过电影，两位主角的表达特别精彩。记得读到As God as my witness 时内心的震撼场景，也读过关于作者的一个八卦，在一个什么会上，一个作家对着她侃侃而谈说自己发表过多少作品，她一直听，说自己只发表了一部，到最后被问书的名字时，她说Gone with the wind. 值得一读再读。

作品完美，但微信读书的排版，尤其英文，只能用惨绝人寰来形容。居然不会自动整词换行，一眼看去每行结尾都是连字符的断词，作为一个用户和书库都如此庞大的阅读软件，这简直让人闻所未闻。产品经理出来挨打吧。

我又来重温斯嘉丽的故事了，这个令人着迷的女人，真正的大女主永远是野心勃勃、敢爱敢恨、拿得起放得下、无需虚名、魅力四射、勇敢而坚定的🌹 “Don't look back” “Gone with the wind” “After all……tomorrow is another day.”

扫描导致的拼写错误太多，影响阅读

Scarlett, I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken-and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived