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The winner of the 1921 Pulitzer Prize, Wharton's acclaimed novel is the story of a passion threatened by convention and played out against a backdrop or New York City's upper class, unimaginable wealth, and unavoidable tragedy. Revised reissue.

《纯真时代》是伊迪丝·华顿的杰出代表作品。华顿把爱伦--全书的灵魂人物的性格的各个侧面都描写的栩栩如生。她的温柔、善良、勇敢、真实，尤其是她展现出来的牺牲精神更是伴随着故事的发展而升华。

内容简介

The 1920s novel of a passion threatened by convention and played outagainst a backdrop of New York City-s upper class, unimaginable wealth,and unavoidable tragedy.

《纯真年代》讲述透过老纽约社会培养出的最优秀的青年———纽兰，通过他保守的思想和双眼，奥兰斯卡伯爵夫人的形象就是一个极为风情、大胆的女子，有些轻浮、有些散漫，看起来和老纽约社会上的
贵族是那样的不同，在他看来这样的女人也不可能具有什么高贵的品质。但是随着故事的展开，奥兰斯卡伯爵夫人的许多优秀的品质被显现出来，尤其是她的人道主义的牺牲精神展现得尤为突出。

作者简介

Edith Wharton:One of America's most important novelists, Edith Wharton was a refined, relentless chronicler of the Gilded Age and its social mores. Along with close friend Henry James, she helped define literature at the turn of the 20th century, even as she wrote classic nonfiction on travel, decorating and her own life.

伊迪丝·华顿（Edith Wharton, 1862年1月24日－1937年8月11日），是19 世纪末女性现实主义作家的代表，她的一生推出了近十余部作品，包括中、长篇小说、诗歌、传记和文学批评等不同体裁。由于她生活的局限性，她的小说一般都是以一种极其细腻的手法描写着贵族生活，所以也被人称为温和现实主义作家。美国女作家，作品有《高尚的嗜好》、《纯真年代》、《四月里的阵雨》、《马恩河》、《战地英雄》等书。

精彩书评

"One of the best novels of the 20th century."
--NY Times Book Review

"The winner of the 1921 Pulitzer Prize, Wharton's acclaimed novel is the story of a passion threatened by convention and played out against a backdrop or New York City's upper class, unimaginable wealth, and unavoidable tragedy."
-- Revised reissue.

精彩书摘

ON A January evening of the early seventies, Christine Nilsson was singing in "Faust" at the Academy of Music in New York.

Though there was already talk of the erection, in remote metropolitan distances "above the Forties," of a new Opera House which should compete in costliness and splendour with those of the great European capitals, the world of fashion was still content to reassemble every winter in the shabby red and gold boxes of the sociable old Academy. Conservatives cherished it for being small and inconvenient, and thus keeping out the "new people" whom New York was beginning to dread and yet be drawn to; and the sentimental clung to it for its historic associations, and the musical for its excellent acoustics, always so problematic a quality in halls built for the hearing of music.

It was Madame Nilsson's first appearance that winter, and what the daily press had already learned to describe as "an exceptionally brilliant audience" had gathered to hear her, transported through the slippery, snowy streets in private broughams, in the spacious family landau, or in the humbler but more convenient "Brown coupé." To come to the Opera in a Brown coupe was almost as honourable a way of arriving as in one's own carriage; and departure by the same means had the immense advantage of enabling one (with a playful allusion to democratic principles) to scramble into the first Brown conveyance in the line, instead of waiting till the cold-and-gin congested nose of one's own coachman gleamed under the portico of the Academy. It was one of the great livery-stableman's most masterly intuitions to have discovered that Americans want to get away from amusement even more quickly than they want to get to it.

When Newland Archer opened the door at the back of the club box the curtain had just gone up on the garden scene. There was no reason why the young man should not have come earlier, for he had dined at seven, alone with his mother and sister, and had lingered afterward over a cigar in the Gothic library with glazed black-walnut bookcases and finial-topped chairs which was the only room in the house where Mrs. Archer allowed smoking. But, in the first place, New York was a metropolis, and perfectly aware that in metropolises it was "not the thing" to arrive early at the opera; and what was or was not "the thing" played a part as important in Newland Archer's New York as the inscrutable totem terrors that had ruled the destinies of his forefathers thousands of years ago.

The second reason for his delay was a personal one. He had dawdled over his cigar because he was at heart a dilettante, and thinking over a pleasure to come often gave him a subtler satisfaction than its realisation. This was especially the case when the pleasure was a delicate one, as his pleasures mostly were; and on this occasion the moment he looked forward to was so rare and exquisite in quality that—well, if he had timed his arrival in accord with the prima donna's stage-manager he could not have entered the Academy at a more significant moment than just as she was singing: "He loves me—he loves me not—he loves me!—" and sprinkling the falling daisy petals with notes as clear as dew.

She sang, of course, "M'ama!" and not "he loves me," since an unalterable and unquestioned law of the musical world required that the German text of French operas sung by Swedish artists should be translated into Italian for the clearer understanding of English-speaking audiences. This seemed as natural to Newland Archer as all the other conventions on which his life was moulded: such as the duty of using two silver-backed brushes with his monogram in blue enamel to part his hair, and of never appearing in society without a flower (preferably a gardenia) in his buttonhole.

"M'ama . . . non m'ama . . ." the prima donna sang, and "M'ama!" with a final burst of love triumphant, as she pressed the dishevelled daisy to her lips and lifted her large eyes to the sophisticated countenance of the little brown Faust-Capoul, who was vainly trying, in a tight purple velvet doublet and plumed cap, to look as pure and true as his artless victim.

Newland Archer, leaning against the wall at the back of the club box, turned his eyes from the stage and scanned the opposite side of the house. Directly facing him was the box of old Mrs. Manson Mingott, whose monstrous obesity had long since made it impossible for her to attend the Opera, but who was always represented on fashionable nights by some of the younger members of the family. On this occasion, the front of the box was filled by her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Lovell Mingott, and her daughter, Mrs. Welland; and slightly withdrawn behind these brocaded matrons sat a young girl in white with eyes ecstatically fixed on the stage lovers. As Madame Nilsson's "M'ama!" thrilled out above the silent house (the boxes always stopped talking during the Daisy Song) a warm pink mounted to the girl's cheek, mantled her brow to the roots of her fair braids, and suffused the young slope of her breast to the line where it met a modest tulle tucker fastened with a single gardenia. She dropped her eyes to the immense bouquet of lilies-of-the-valley on her knee, and Newland Archer saw her white-gloved finger-tips touch the flowers softly. He drew a breath of satisfied vanity and his eyes returned to the stage.

No expense had been spared on the setting, which was acknowledged to be very beautiful even by people who shared his acquaintance with the Opera Houses of Paris and Vienna. The foreground, to the footlights, was covered with emerald green cloth. In the middle distance symmetrical mounds of woolly green moss bounded by croquet hoops formed the base of shrubs shaped like orange-trees but studded with large pink and red roses. Gigantic pansies, considerably larger than the roses, and closely resembling the floral pen-wipers made by female parishioners for fashionable clergymen, sprang from the moss beneath the rose-trees; and here and there a daisy grafted on a rose-branch flowered with a luxuriance prophetic of Mr. Luther Burbank's far-off prodigies.

In the centre of this enchanted garden Madame Nilsson, in white cashmere slashed with pale blue satin, a reticule dangling from a blue girdle, and large yellow braids carefully disposed on each side of her muslin chemisette, listened with downcast eyes to M. Capoul's impassioned wooing, and affected a guileless incomprehension of his designs whenever, by word or glance, he persuasively indicated the ground floor window of the neat brick villa projecting obliquely from the right wing.

"The darling!" though The Age of Innocence[纯真年代] [平装] 电子书 下载 mobi epub pdf txt

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感觉书的质量想路边五块钱买的那种，质量太次了。

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正版

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喜欢，英语提高必读，非常精彩

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　　浮华的外表下只是苍白的冷漠，繁复的装饰下是没有回声的空白。阿切尔与埃伦又一次邂逅，他决定要带着她从喧嚣和虚伪中逃离。可是梅不仅是一个美丽柔弱的女子，也是一个百发百中的射手，她用一个尚未降生的孩子再次挽留了阿切尔，梅的身后是整个上流社会，他们微笑着剥夺了他的灵魂和埃伦的一切。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

　　浮华的外表下只是苍白的冷漠，繁复的装饰下是没有回声的空白。阿切尔与埃伦又一次邂逅，他决定要带着她从喧嚣和虚伪中逃离。可是梅不仅是一个美丽柔弱的女子，也是一个百发百中的射手，她用一个尚未降生的孩子再次挽留了阿切尔，梅的身后是整个上流社会，他们微笑着剥夺了他的灵魂和埃伦的一切。

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父母双亡的小朋友皮普（菲力普），从小由一个母老虎姐姐抚养，他和憨厚的铁匠姐夫乔经常受到姐姐的殴打，有一天，皮普在父母的坟墓前遇到一个逃犯，那逃犯吓唬他威胁他，让皮普为他弄来矬子（用来弄开枷锁），恐惧的皮普照做了，皮普内心的善良又为逃犯带了块馅饼。但不久，逃犯就在和另一个逃犯搏斗的过程中被警察逮捕了。

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　　埃伦是一个因不幸婚姻而遭上流社会封杀的女人，她总是毫无顾忌地笑，她不懂得礼仪、不在乎形式。阿切尔看到她哭了：“难道上流社会的人从来不哭泣？”她的眼泪里写满了孤寂。他握住她的手，洁白修长的手指，青色的血管像浮雕般在皮肤上蔓延开来。

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　　梅是属于白天的女人，她高贵、美丽，是理想的妻子，纯洁得像一朵带露的百合花。他们的结合是两个最大家族的联姻。

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　　他们的爱情烟花般孤寂寞落，在天空中一闪而过，然后只剩下那片记忆里的姹紫嫣红和深得看不到底的天空。该发生的都已发生，但是却如同一切都未发生过一样，生活的水面依旧平静无波，水淹过激情的残骸，那是生活河流中意外落下的陨石。这曾经滚烫的火焰终究要冷却，另一方面它虽冷却了但又真实存在，穷其一生卡在喉咙当中，叫灵魂不得安灵。

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