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內容簡介

He wanted to be treated like a man, not a child.

Every summer the men of the Chavez family go on a long and difficult sheep drive to the mountains. All the men, that is, except for Miguel. All year long, twelve-year-old Miguel tries to prove that he, too, is up to the challenge'that he, too, is up to the challenge'that he, too is ready to take the sheep into his beloved Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

When his deeds go unnoticed, he prays to San Ysidro, the saint for farmers everywhere. And his prayer is answered . . . but with devastating consequences.

When you act like an adult but get treated like a child, what else can you do but keep your wishes secret and pray that they'll come true.

This is the story of a twelve-year-old Miguel Chavez, who yearns in his heart to go with the men of his family on a long and hard sheep drive to the Sangre de Cristo Mountains--until his prayer is finally answered, with a disturbing and dangerous exchange.

作者簡介

Joseph Krumgold received the Newbery Medal for ...And Now Miguel. One of the few people to receive the medal twice, he was subsequently awarded it for his novel Onion John,also available in a Harper Trophy edition.

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精彩書評

"A memorable and deeply moving story of a family of New Mexican sheepherders, in which Miguel, neither child nor man, tells of his great longing to accompany men and sheep to summer pasture, and expresses his need to be recognized as a maturing individual."
-- BL.

精彩書摘

CHAPTER ONE
It was love at first sight and I was astonished that it should be happening to me because the first sight had nothing in the least alluring about it. The roads from airports to cities rarely do. I was like a man who bewilders his friends by becoming infatuated with a particularly unprepossessing woman-warts and a squint and a harelip. 'What on earth does he see in her?' I've often wondered myself. What did I see in that dreary road which was taking me to Paris?
This sudden incomprehensible love affair might have been a little less mysterious if I had arrived in France with gooseflesh anticipations of romantic garrets and dangerous liaisons in them, the Latin Quarter and champagne at five francs a bottle, and artists' studios-all the preposterous sentimental paraphernalia from absinthe to midinettes. But I had not included any of these notions in my meagre luggage, I had no preliminary yearnings towards the country. Rather the contrary. In Australia I had spent much of my time with a young woman who had visited France just before the war and had gone down with a bad attack of what someone called 'French flu'. She babbled so fervently and persistently about France and Paris that she infected me with a perverse loathing for both.
The fact nonetheless inexplicably remains. A hundred yards from the airport we passed a café ('Le Looping', with the two o's aerobatically askew to make the point clear) and puppy love overwhelmed me-puppy love from which this old dog has not yet shaken himself free. 'Le Looping' and the handful of unremarkable customers sipping their drinks on the terrace instantaneously bewitched me.
I knew, with no rational justification, that I was in a country which for me was unlike any other country. It was as though some indigenous evangelist had caused me to be 'born again'.
One life abruptly ended and another began. There and then I shed my twenty-five years. To this day, in my own head and heart I am twenty-five years younger than the miserable reality.
The passengers in the airport bus were a drab lot. It was only eighteen months since the war had ended. There had not been much time to spruce up. In my besotted state, they seemed to me as fabulous as troubadours. The houses along the road were dismal little pavilions badly in need of a coat of paint. I gaped at them as if each one were the Chateau de Versailles. And in the distance the Eiffel Tower looked so impossibly like itself as depicted on a thousand postcards and a thousand amateur paintings that the sense of unreality which I had been feeling deepened still further.
What had brought me to Paris was my eagerness to visit a writer I had admired since my school days. He and his wife were to become two of my closest friends. We saw a great deal of each other in the years ahead-in Paris, in the South of France, in the Loire Valley. Of all the countless occasions on which we laughed together, argued, drank wine, loafed on a Mediterranean beach, listened to music, none was as sheerly magical as that first evening in Paris.
Our relationship took shape from the very beginning. We were already friends by the time we left their studio and strolled together down the Boulevard de Montparnasse. For some reason, twilight in Parts, then at least, was not like twilight in any other city. It enveloped you in a wonderful blue and golden luminosity and it had its own special unidentifiable perfume. That one-and-only twilight dreamily descending on us was so unlike anything I had known that I had my first vague glimpse of a mystery which was to become more and more apparent as time went by: Parts was the city of the unexpected. You always felt as though something extraordinary were about to happen. Sometimes it did, sometimes not; but the expectation never diminished. One went on waiting.
Twilight aside, most things were in short supply in 1947. Fortunately, the writer had been familiar with Paris for thirty years or more. He was already on the right sort of terms with the proprietor of an unassuming restaurant in one of the side streets. So we were served with a mixture of raw vegetables, a sorrel omelette (I can still recall the metallic taste of that sorrel) and, thanks to the proprietor's peasant brother, some wild duck. The wine was a muscular red with a powerful rasp to it but (a symptom of French flu?) I thought I had never drunk anything so delicious. It was served in cups as if we were in the prohibition speakeasy era because otherwise less privileged customers would have been clamouring for some and there wasn't any too much to be had.
Afterwards we walked back along the boulevard towards the studio. We stopped midway for a glass of brandy at the D?me. Tourists had not yet ventured to return to Paris. The other customers on the terrace were all French, completely nondescript but fascinating because they were French. There were practically no cars on the roads. Those there were either had great charcoal-burning furnaces fixed to the back or carried dirigible-like bags of gas on their roofs. Every so often a fiacre went clip-clopping past. The air was almost startling pure. The stars were sharply visible in a translucent sky. I turned to the man at the next table and asked him for a light-speaking French for the first time in my life. I managed to make three ludicrous grammatical blunders in the course of that one short sentence. If he was amused by my linguistic ineptitude he was too polite to show it. La politesse francaise-that still existed, too.

前言/序言

...And Now Miguel 牧童曆險記 [平裝] [8歲及以上] 下載 mobi epub pdf txt 電子書

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大奬小說。樂高的經典書，有很多圖例是需要專門的係類纔能搭建。《樂高全書:樂高的故事+樂高迷你人仔(套裝共2冊)》內容簡介：樂高積木已經走過50多年瞭，但他依然年輕。為什麼樂高積木能不斷的激發全世界的小孩子和大人們的創造靈感。它每天都是個新玩具。樂高積木的疊加方式是無窮無盡的，隻需要僅僅六塊同顔色的樂高積木就能搭建齣不止九億一韆五百萬個造型。所以樂高玩法師永無止境的。樂高積木不僅僅隻是個玩具，它還有培養瞭閤作與社交技能的能力。如果你把不同國籍的孩子召集在一起，他們不懂彼此的語言，隻要給他們樂高積木，他們就會自然而然的一起玩起來。樂高積木是世界通用的好玩兒的玩具！所有這些都會在《樂高的故事》裏一一為你展現……什麼樣的人偶玩具能讓無數人為之瘋狂？50年經久不衰的玩具公司，製作齣瞭風靡全球30年的木頭人仔，它究竟有什麼神奇之處？長得多高纔能創造曆史？那些耳熟能詳的經典套係：樂高城市、海盜船長、星球大戰、哈利•波特、NBA、機械戰士……囊括瞭時尚與流行、傳統與經典的所有精華的玩具——樂高，第一次為中國樂高迷呈現的完成套係典藏目錄。將所有已齣的套裝人物一一列舉並闡釋曆史、講述故事。

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“近日輪颿迥飆迅，百韆萬裏一刹那。陳跡尚留好望角，異事乃有新開河。男髴神仙縮地術，授與西土供揣摩。從茲中外共一水，聲教豈獨班南訛。古稱尚德不尚險，玉帛可以銷乾戈。”作者高度贊揚西方國傢運用先進的科學技術開鑿蘇伊士運河，人力勝天工，使東西方海上交通不必再遠繞好望角，可省去航程數韆公裏。如有戰爭，扼守此險，則片帆不能渡，今通航安全便捷與各國共用，則世界和平，國際閤作，造福於人類之功德大矣。

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[ZZ]寫的的書都寫得很好，[sm]還是朋友推薦我看的，後來就非非常喜歡，他的書瞭。除瞭他的書，我和我傢小孩還喜歡看鄭淵潔、楊紅櫻、黃曉陽、小橋老樹、王永傑、楊其鐸、曉玲叮當、方洲，他們的書我覺得都寫得很好。[SM]，很值得看，價格也非常便宜，比實體店買便宜好多還省車費。 書的內容直得一讀[BJTJ]，閱讀瞭一下，寫得很好，[NRJJ]，內容也很豐富。[QY]，一本書多讀幾次，[SZ]。 快遞送貨也很快。還送貨上樓。非常好。 [SM]，超值。買書就來來京東商城。價格還比彆傢便宜，還免郵費不錯，速度還真是快而且都是正版書。[BJTJ]，買迴來覺得還是非常值的。我喜歡看書，喜歡看各種各樣的書，看的很雜，文學名著，流行小說都看，隻要作者的文筆不是太差，總能讓我從頭到腳看完整本書。隻不過很多時候是當成故事來看，看完瞭感嘆一番也就丟下瞭。所在來這裏買書是非常明智的。然而，目前社會上還有許多人被一些價值不大的東西所束縛，卻自得其樂，還覺得很滿足。經過幾百年的探索和發展，人們對物質需求已不再迫切，但對於精神自由的需求卻無端被抹殺瞭。總之，我認為現代人最缺乏的就是一種開闊進取，尋找最大自由的精神。 中國人講“虛實相生，天人閤一”的思想，“於空寂處見流行，於流行處見空寂”，從而獲得對於“道”的體悟，“唯道集虛”。這在傳統的藝術中得到瞭充分的體現，因此中國古代的繪畫，提倡“留白”、“布白”，用空白來錶現豐富多彩的想象空間和廣博深廣的人生意味，體現瞭包納萬物、吞吐一切的胸襟和情懷。讓我得到瞭一種生活情趣和審美方式，伴著筆墨的清香，細細體味，那自由孤寂的靈魂，高尚清真的人格魅力，在尋求美的道路上指引著我，讓我拋棄浮躁的世俗，嚮美學叢林的深處邁進。閤上書，閉上眼，書的餘香猶存，而我腦海裏浮現的，是一個“皎皎明月，仙仙白雲，鴻雁高翔，綴葉如雨”的衝淡清幽境界。願我們身邊多一些主教般光明的使者，有更多人能加入到助人為樂、見義勇為的隊伍中來。社會需要這樣的人，世界需要這樣的人，隻有這樣我們纔能創造我們的生活，[NRJJ]希望下次還呢繼續購買這裏的書籍，這裏的書籍很好，非常的不錯，。給我帶來瞭不錯的現實享受。希望下次還呢繼續購買這裏的書籍，這裏的書籍很好，非常的不錯，。給我帶來瞭不錯的現實享受。

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　　刺客守則四，不該講究

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　　此舉不光劉彥荷措手不及，在暗處看瞭一場好戲的莫熙也十分錯愕。

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原版紐奬書，孩子喜歡。字體比較小。

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　　“好來，您看這款，連咱們碧落軒的印記也沒有，用起來卻是半分不差的。”夥計看他衣飾普通，料是囊中羞澀，也不點破，從善如流，推薦上瞭。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

　　

評分☆☆☆☆☆

原版紐奬書，孩子喜歡。字體比較小。

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