1Q84: 3 Volume Boxed Set (Vintage International)[1Q84(套装共3册)] [平装] pdf epub mobi txt 电子书 下载 2025

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☆☆☆☆☆

Haruki Murakami 著

图书标签:

• 文学小说
• 日本文学
• 村上春树
• 科幻
• 反乌托邦
• 经典文学
• 长篇小说
• 现代文学
• 虚构
• 小说

出版社： Vintage

ISBN：9780345802934

商品编码：19276335

包装：平装

丛书名： Vintage International

出版时间：2012-05-15

用纸：胶版纸

页数：1184

正文语种：英文

商品尺寸：20.523x13.31x6.299cm;1.152kg

编辑推荐

A New York Times Notable Book
A Washington Post Best Book of the Year

内容简介

This deluxe three-volume paperback boxed set—gorgeously designed editions in a see-through case, with a removeable sticker on the shrink wrap packaging—is a collector’s item in the making. It beautifully showcases Haruki Murakami’s most ambitious novel yet, 1Q84—a love story, a mystery, a fantasy, a dystopia to rival George Orwell’s.

The year is 1984 and the city is Tokyo.

A young woman named Aomame follows a taxi driver’s enigmatic suggestion and begins to notice puzzling discrepancies in the world around her. She has entered, she realizes, a parallel existence, which she calls 1Q84—”Q is for ‘question mark.’ A world that bears a question.” Meanwhile, an aspiring writer named Tengo takes on a suspect ghostwriting project. He becomes so wrapped up with the work and its unusual author that, soon, his previously placid life begins to come unraveled.

As Aomame’s and Tengo’s narratives converge over the course of this single year, we learn of the profound and tangled connections that bind them ever closer: a beautiful, dyslexic teenage girl with a unique vision; a mysterious religious cult that instigated a shoot-out with the metropolitan police; a reclusive, wealthy dowager who runs a shelter for abused women; a hideously ugly private investigator; a mild-mannered yet ruthlessly efficient bodyguard; and a peculiarly insistent television-fee collector.

An instant bestseller around the world, 1Q84 is a tremendous feat of imagination from one of our most revered contemporary writers.

作者简介

Haruki Murakami was born in Kyoto in 1949 and now lives near Tokyo. His work has been translated into more than forty languages, and the most recent of his many international honors is the Jerusalem Prize, whose previous recipients include J. M. Coetzee, Milan Kundera, and V. S. Naipaul.

精彩书评

“Brilliant. . . . An irresistibly engaging literary fantasy. . . . Murakami possesses many gifts, but chief among them is an almost preternatural gift for suspenseful storytelling.”
—The Washington Post

“A grand, third-person, all encompassing meganovel. It is a book full of anger and violence and disaster and weird sex and strange new realities, a book that seems to want to hold all of Japan inside of it.”
—The New York Times Magazine

“Bewitching. . . . Part noir crime drama, part love story, and part hallucinatory riff on 1984. . . . You don’t know where things are going while you read it, and you can’t say exactly where you’ve been when you’re finished, but everything around you looks different somehow. If this is fiction as funhouse, it is very serious fun, and you enter at the risk of your own complacency.”
—Newsweek

“A magical journey to a parallel world . . . 1Q84 is a love story and a detective story. It’s a philosophical novel about the power of storytelling, the nature of reality, and the shifting balance of good and evil. . . . Once the narrative begins to pick up, you have no desire to put the book down.”
—The Philadelphia Inquirer

“A weirdly gripping page-turner. . . . Its tonal register—as if serving as an antidote to the unsettling world it presents—is consistently warmhearted, secretly romantic, and really quite genial.”
—Charles Baxter, The New York Review of Books

精彩书摘

Chapter 1
Aomame
DON'T LET APPEARANCES FOOL YOU
The taxi's radio was tuned to a classical FM broadcast. Janaìcek's Sinfonietta—probably not the ideal music to hear in a taxi caught in traffic. The middle-aged driver didn't seem to be listening very closely, either. With his mouth clamped shut, he stared straight ahead at the endless line of cars stretching out on the elevated expressway, like a veteran fisherman standing in the bow of his boat, reading the ominous confluence of two currents. Aomame settled into the broad back seat, closed her eyes, and listened to the music.
How many people could recognize Janaìcek's Sinfonietta after hearing just the first few bars? Probably somewhere between "very few" and "almost none." But for some reason, Aomame was one of the few who could.
Janaìcek composed his little symphony in 1926. He originally wrote the opening as a fanfare for a gymnastics festival. Aomame imagined 1926 Czechoslovakia: The First World War had ended, and the country was freed from the long rule of the Hapsburg Dynasty. As they enjoyed the peaceful respite visiting central Europe, people drank Pilsner beer in cafeìs and manufactured handsome light machine guns. Two years earlier, in utter obscurity, Franz Kafka had left the world behind. Soon Hitler would come out of nowhere and gobble up this beautiful little country in the blink of an eye, but at the time no one knew what hardships lay in store for them. This may be the most important proposition revealed by history: "At the time, no one knew what was coming." Listening to Janaìcek's music, Aomame imagined the carefree winds sweeping across the plains of Bohemia and thought about the vicissitudes of history.
In 1926 Japan's Taisho Emperor died, and the era name was changed to Showa. It was the beginning of a terrible, dark time in this country, too. The short interlude of modernism and democracy was ending, giving way to fascism.
Aomame loved history as much as she loved sports. She rarely read fiction, but history books could keep her occupied for hours. What she liked about history was the way all its facts were linked with particular dates and places. She did not find it especially difficult to remember historical dates. Even if she did not learn them by rote memorization, once she grasped the relationship of an event to its time and to the events preceding and following it, the date would come to her automatically. In both middle school and high school, she had always gotten the top grade on history exams. It puzzled her to hear someone say he had trouble learning dates. How could something so simple be a problem for anyone?
"Aomame" was her real name. Her grandfather on her father's side came from some little mountain town or village in Fukushima Prefecture, where there were supposedly a number of people who bore the name, written with exactly the same characters as the word for "green peas" and pronounced with the same four syllables, "Ah-oh-mah-meh." She had never been to the place, however. Her father had cut his ties with his family before her birth, just as her mother had done with her own family, so she had never met any of her grandparents. She didn't travel much, but on those rare occasions when she stayed in an unfamiliar city or town, she would always open the hotel's phone book to see if there were any Aomames in the area. She had never found a single one, and whenever she tried and failed, she felt like a lonely castaway on the open sea.
Telling people her name was always a bother. As soon as the name left her lips, the other person looked puzzled or confused.
"Miss Aomame?"
"Yes. Just like 'green peas.' "
Employers required her to have business cards printed, which only made things worse. People would stare at the card as if she had thrust a letter at them bearing bad news. When she announced her name on the telephone, she would often hear suppressed laughter. In waiting rooms at the doctor's or at public offices, people would look up at the sound of her name, curious to see what someone called "Green Peas" could look like.
Some people would get the name of the plant wrong and call her "Edamame" or "Soramame," whereupon she would gently correct them: "No, I'm not soybeans or fava beans, just green peas. Pretty close, though. Aomame." How many times in her thirty years had she heard the same remarks, the same feeble jokes about her name? My life might have been totally different if I hadn't been born with this name. If I had had an ordinary name like Sato or Tanaka or Suzuki, I could have lived a slightly more relaxed life or looked at people with somewhat more forgiving eyes. Perhaps.
Eyes closed, Aomame listened to the music, allowing the lovely unison of the brasses to sink into her brain. Just then it occurred to her that the sound quality was too good for a radio in a taxicab. Despite the rather low volume at which it was playing, the sound had true depth, and the overtones were clearly audible. She opened her eyes and leaned forward to study the dashboard stereo. The jet-black device shone with a proud gloss. She couldn't make out its brand name, but it was obviously high end, with lots of knobs and switches, the green numerals of the station readout clear against the black panel. This was not the kind of stereo you expected to see in an ordinary fleet cab.
She looked around at the cab's interior. She had been too absorbed in her own thoughts to notice until now, but this was no ordinary taxi. The high quality of the trim was evident, and the seat was especially comfortable. Above all, it was quiet. The car probably had extra sound insulation to keep noise out, like a soundproofed music studio. The driver probably owned his own cab. Many such owner-drivers would spare no expense on the upkeep of their automobiles. Moving only her eyes, Aomame searched for the driver's registration card, without success. This did not seem to be an illegal unlicensed cab, though. It had a standard taxi meter, which was ticking off the proper fare: 2,150 yen so far. Still, the registration card showing the driver's name was nowhere to be found.
"What a nice car," Aomame said, speaking to the driver's back. "So quiet. What kind is it?"
"Toyota Crown Royal Saloon," the driver replied succinctly. "The music sounds great in here." "It's a very quiet car. That's one reason I chose it. Toyota has some of the best sound-insulating technology in the world."
Aomame nodded and leaned back in her seat. There was something about the driver's way of speaking that bothered her, as though he were leaving something important unsaid. For example (and this is just one example), his remark on Toyota's impeccable sound insulation might be taken to mean that some other Toyota feature was less than impeccable. And each time he finished a sentence, there was a tiny but meaningful lump of silence left behind. This lump floated there, enclosed in the car's restricted space like an imaginary miniature cloud, giving Aomame a strangely unsettled feeling.
"It certainly is a quiet car," Aomame declared, as if to sweep the little cloud away. "And the stereo looks especially fine."
"Decisiveness was key when I bought it," the driver said, like a retired staff officer explaining a past military success. "I have to spend so much time in here, I want the best sound available. And—"
Aomame waited for what was to follow, but nothing followed. She closed her eyes again and concentrated on the music. She knew nothing about Janaìcek as a person, but she was quite sure that he never imagined that in 1984 someone would be listening to his composition in a hushed Toyota Crown Royal Saloon on the gridlocked elevated Metropolitan Expressway in Tokyo.
Why, though, Aomame wondered, had she instantly recognized the piece to be Janaìcek's Sinfonietta? And how did she know it had been composed in 1926? She was not a classical music fan, and she had no personal recollections involving Janaìcek, yet the moment she heard the opening bars, all her knowledge of the piece came to her by reflex, like a flock of birds swooping through an open window. The music gave her an odd, wrenching kind of feeling. There was no pain or unpleasantness involved, just a sensation that all the elements of her body were being physically wrung out. Aomame had no idea what was going on. CouldSinfonietta actually be giving me this weird feeling?
"Janaìcek," Aomame said half-consciously, though after the word emerged from her lips, she wanted to take it back.
"What's that, ma'am?"
"Janaìcek. The man who wrote this music."
"Never heard of him."
"Czech composer."
"Well-well," the driver said, seemingly impressed.
"Do you own this cab?" Aomame asked, hoping to change the subject.
"I do," the driver answered. After a brief pause, he added, "It's all mine. My second one."
"Very comfortable seats."
"Thank you, ma'am." Turning his head slightly in her direction, he asked, "By the way, are you in a hurry?"
"I have to meet someone in Shibuya. That's why I asked you to take the expressway."
"What time is your meeting?"
"Four thirty," Aomame said.
"Well, it's already three forty-five. You'll never make it."
"Is the backup that bad?"
"Looks like a major accident up ahead. This is no ordinary traffic jam. We've hardly moved for quite a while."
She wondered why the driver was not listening to traffic reports. The expressway had been brought to a standstill. He should be listening to updates on the taxi drivers' special radio station.
"You can tell it's an accident without hearing a traffic report?" Aomame asked.
"You can't trust them," he said with a hollow ring to his voice. "They're half lies. The Expressway Corporation only releases reports that suit its agenda. If you really want to know what's happening here and now, you've got to...

《百年孤独》 作者：加布里埃尔·加西亚·马尔克斯 (Gabriel García Márquez) 译者：葛素仪 / 桂花等 出版信息： 企鹅经典（Penguin Classics）或其他知名出版社的版本，通常包含精美的封面设计和详尽的译后记与导读。 --- 一部魔幻史诗，七代人的兴衰荣辱 《百年孤独》是哥伦比亚文学巨匠加夫列尔·加西亚·马尔克斯的巅峰之作，被誉为“20世纪最伟大的小说之一”。这部鸿篇巨制以其磅礴的想象力、令人目眩的叙事技巧和对人类命运深刻的洞察力，成功地塑造了一个完整而独特的文学世界——马孔多（Macondo）。 故事围绕着布恩迪亚（Buendía）家族七代人的命运展开，从家族的创始人何塞·阿尔卡蒂奥·布恩迪亚（José Arcadio Buendía）和乌尔苏拉·伊瓜兰（Úrsula Iguarán）在热带雨林中建立起与世隔绝的村庄马孔多开始，直至这个家族的最终消亡。 叙事结构与魔幻现实主义的极致展现 小说的叙事如同一首宏大而迷离的史诗，时间在这里失去了线性的意义，过去、现在与未来不断交织、循环往复。马尔克斯以其标志性的“魔幻现实主义”笔法，将奇迹般的想象与残酷的现实无缝地融合在一起。 在马孔多，你会目睹： 超自然现象的日常化： 飞升上天的女人、持续了数年的大雨、预言家留下的羊皮卷、以及贯穿始终的，对乱伦的恐惧与宿命般的吸引。 历史的镜像： 马孔多的兴盛与衰败，清晰地映射了拉丁美洲曲折坎坷的近代史。从蛮荒的建立，到香蕉公司的到来带来的短暂繁荣与随后的血腥镇压，再到最终被遗忘和毁灭，家族的命运与地域的历史紧密地捆绑在一起。 家族的轮回与孤独的宿命 布恩迪亚家族的每一代人，似乎都在重复着前人的错误，但又以不同的方式诠释着同一种命运。家族成员的名字在何塞·阿尔卡蒂奥（José Arcadio）和奥雷里亚诺（Aureliano）之间反复出现，象征着一种难以挣脱的遗传宿命。 奥雷里亚诺的特质： 往往是沉思的、孤独的，热衷于研究炼金术或卷入战争。上校奥雷里亚诺·布恩迪亚（Colonel Aureliano Buendía）一生发动了三十二场内战，却无一胜绩，最终在孤独中铸造和熔毁自己的金鱼。 何塞·阿尔卡蒂奥的特质： 通常是冲动、热情洋溢、充满肉欲的，他们以强烈的生命力在世间留下深刻的印记，却往往结局凄凉。 贯穿始终的主题是孤独 (Soledad)。无论家族成员身处繁华还是寂寥，无论他们是沉浸在爱欲之中还是投身于政治斗争，他们始终无法真正理解彼此，也无法逃脱心灵深处的隔绝感。马孔多本身，也是一个地理与精神上的“孤独之地”。 核心主题的深度探索 《百年孤独》不仅仅是一个家族的故事，它更是一部关于人类存在状态的寓言： 1. 时间与记忆： 小说探讨了记忆如何塑造现实，以及当记忆消退时，文明将如何瓦解。马孔多曾经历过“失眠症”带来的遗忘瘟疫，人们不得不为日常物品贴上标签以提醒自己其用途，揭示了文化传承的脆弱性。 2. 爱与欲望： 家族中充满了强烈的、有时是禁忌的爱恋与欲望。这些情感推动了情节发展，却也常常导致悲剧性的后果，特别是对乱伦的恐惧，构成了家族诅咒的核心。 3. 历史与神话： 马尔克斯巧妙地将哥伦比亚乃至整个拉丁美洲的真实历史事件（如香蕉公司屠杀）融入到神话般的叙事框架中，使得这部小说既是民族史诗，也是对人类普遍困境的深刻反思。 文学价值与影响 《百年孤独》自问世以来，便以其独特的叙事魅力和深刻的哲学内涵震撼了世界文坛。它不仅为马尔克斯赢得了诺贝尔文学奖，更确立了魔幻现实主义在当代文学中的核心地位。 读者在阅读时，需要沉浸其中，接受那种亦真亦幻的逻辑，体验那种在繁复的细节和宏大的命运观之间穿梭的独特快感。最终，家族的结局在羊皮卷的解读中揭晓，那个关于“第一代人被绑在栗树上，最后一代正被蚂蚁吃掉”的预言，为这段传奇的一生画上了充满宿命感的句号。 这是一部需要反复阅读、每次都能发现新层次的伟大作品，它关于一个家族、一个村庄的兴衰，实则讲述了人类文明的诞生、高潮与不可避免的黄昏。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

这本书的魅力在于它提供了一种极具沉浸感的阅读体验，它不是那种可以被随意丢在一边，休息几日再捡起来的书。一旦你踏入这个世界，就很难轻易抽离出来。它要求读者付出相当的专注度，因为稍不留神，你可能就会错过一个推动情节发展的关键细节，或者错失一个角色的微妙转变。我个人认为，这本书非常适合那些寻求“挑战性”阅读体验的读者，它不迎合主流的娱乐化趋势，而是选择用一种更宏大、更具思辨性的方式来呈现故事。读完最后一页时，那种复杂的心情难以言喻，有释然，有怅惘，更有对作者构建的那个平行宇宙深深的眷恋。它成功地做到了让读者在合上书本后，依然能够感受到角色们的生活仍在继续，那种“未完待续”的余韵，是真正优秀作品的标志。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

这本书的整体氛围营造得极其出色，那种在现实与虚幻之间游走的微妙感，让人在阅读过程中始终保持着一种高度的警觉和好奇。作者对细节的捕捉简直令人叹为观止，无论是环境的描摹还是人物内心活动的刻画，都细腻到让人仿佛身临其境。我尤其欣赏那种缓慢却有力的叙事节奏，它不是那种一蹴而就的快节奏情节推动，而是像一张巨大的网，慢慢收紧，将你牢牢困在故事的逻辑之中。读到某些转折点时，那种豁然开朗却又感到一丝寒意的感觉，是很多当代小说难以企及的深度。它不仅仅是一个故事，更像是一次对人类存在本质的哲学探讨，关于信仰、关于自由意志，以及我们如何定义“真实”。每一次翻页都带着一种沉甸甸的期待，生怕错过了任何一个可能揭示真相的线索。这种对阅读体验的极致追求，让这本书从众多文学作品中脱颖而出，成为了我书架上需要反复咀嚼才能品出其真味的珍藏。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

我必须称赞作者在构建其独特世界观时的想象力，那种“另一个世界”的设定，并非空穴来风的奇思妙想，而是建立在一套自洽且令人信服的规则之上。这种“似是而非”的设定，成功地模糊了读者对现实的固有认知，让人开始质疑自己所处环境的稳固性。每一次关于“空气蛹”或者特定符号的出现，都像是一次对既有秩序的挑衅。这种对符号学的运用非常高明，它将抽象的概念具象化，让读者在阅读过程中不断地进行解读和重构。读完之后，我甚至会不自觉地去观察周围的环境，寻找那些可能被我们忽略的“裂缝”。这种阅读后遗症，恰恰证明了作品强大的渗透力。它成功地将文学的思辨性与引人入胜的悬念感完美地结合在一起，形成了一种独特的阅读节奏感，让你既享受故事的流畅性，又沉醉于哲学的深邃性之中。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

从文学手法上来说，作者对语言的驾驭能力达到了炉火纯青的地步。他的文字时而如同冰冷的刀锋，精准地切割着人物的痛苦；时而又像温暖的溪流，温柔地抚慰着角色内心的伤痕。这种在冷峻与温情之间的自由切换，使得整部作品的情感基调极其丰富立体，避免了陷入单一的沉闷或煽情。尤其是那些内心独白的部分，那种对生命意义的追问，那种对孤独的深刻描摹，写得如此坦诚而又充满诗意，让人读后久久不能平息。我特别喜欢作者处理“信息不对称”的方式，角色们在黑暗中摸索，而读者则被赋予了有限的“照明”，这种信息差制造的紧张感，远胜过许多刻意设计的惊悚桥段。它考验的不是读者的智力，而是他们的共情能力和对人性复杂性的接纳程度。这是一部需要用“心”去阅读的作品，而非仅仅用眼睛。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

这本书的结构设计实在精妙，多线索叙事的张力把握得恰到好处，两条看似平行的故事线，却在不经意间产生了强烈的共鸣和碰撞。我发现自己不自觉地代入了其中一位主角的视角，体验那种被命运推搡着前行的无力感，而另一条线索则提供了观察全局的上帝视角，两者交织出的复杂织锦，让人不得不佩服作者构建世界观的宏大与严谨。更难得的是，即便故事背景设定得如此超现实，人物的情感却是如此真实可触。他们的挣扎、他们的爱恋、他们对救赎的渴望，都深深地触动了我。我常常读到深夜，只为搞清楚一个角色的动机，或者想知道他们将如何应对接下来的困境。这种近乎沉浸式的阅读体验，让我感到自己不仅仅是一个旁观者，更像是故事的一个影子，与角色一同经历了那段充满迷雾的旅程。这本书的厚度其实是对读者的一种邀请，邀请我们慢下来，去探索那些隐藏在字里行间的深层含义。