Jane Eyre簡·愛 英文原版 [平裝] pdf epub mobi txt 電子書 下載 2025

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☆☆☆☆☆

Charlotte Bront?（夏洛蒂·勃朗特） 著

圖書標籤:

• 經典文學
• 英文原版
• 小說
• 簡·愛
• 維多利亞時期
• 愛情
• 成長
• 女性文學
• 平裝本
• 布朗特姐妹

齣版社： Random House

ISBN：9780553211405

版次：1

商品編碼：19017054

包裝：平裝

叢書名： Bantam Classics

齣版時間：1983-09-01

用紙：膠版紙

頁數：492

正文語種：英文

商品尺寸：17.27x10.41x2.29cm;0.22kg

內容簡介

Charlotte Bront?'s impassioned novel is the love story of Jane Eyre, a plain yet spirited governess, and her employer, the arrogant, brooding Mr. Rochester. Published in 1847 under the pseudonym Currer Bell, the book heralded a new kind of heroine—one whose virtuous integrity, keen intellect, and tireless perseverance broke through class barriers to win equal stature with the man she loved. Hailed by William Makepeace Thackeray as "the masterwork of a great genius," Jane Eyre is still regarded, over a century later, as one of the finest novels in English literature.

作者簡介

Emily Jane Bront? was the most solitary member of a unique, tightly-knit, English provincial family. Born in 1818, she shared the parsonage of the town of Haworth, Yorkshire, with her older sister, Charlotte, her brother, Branwell, her younger sister, Anne, and her father, The Reverend Patrick Bront?. All five were poets and writers; all but Branwell would publish at least one book.

Fantasy was the Bront? children's one relief from the rigors of religion and the bleakness of life in an impoverished region. They invented a series of imaginary kingdoms and constructed a whole library of journals, stories, poems, and plays around their inhabitants. Emily's special province was a kingdom she called Gondal, whose romantic heroes and exiles owed much to the poems of Byron.

Brief stays at several boarding schools were the sum of her experiences outside Haworth until 1842, when she entered a school in Brussels with her sister Charlotte. After a year of study and teaching there, they felt qualified to announce the opening of a school in their own home, but could not attract a single pupil.

In 1845 Charlotte Bront? came across a manuscript volume of her sister's poems. She knew at once, she later wrote, that they were "not at all like poetry women generally write…they had a peculiar music–wild, melancholy, and elevating." At her sister's urging, Emily's poems, along with Anne's and Charlotte's, were published pseudonymously in 1846. An almost complete silence greeted this volume, but the three sisters, buoyed by the fact of publication, immediately began to write novels. Emily's effort was Wuthering Heights; appearing in 1847 it was treated at first as a lesser work by Charlotte, whose Jane Eyre had already been published to great acclaim. Emily Bront?'s name did not emerge from behind her pseudonym of Ellis Bell until the second edition of her novel appeared in 1850.

In the meantime, tragedy had struck the Bront? family. In September of 1848 Branwell had succumbed to a life of dissipation. By December, after a brief illness, Emily too was dead; her sister Anne would die the next year. Wuthering Heights, Emily's only novel, was just beginning to be understood as the wild and singular work of genius that it is. "Stronger than a man," wrote Charlotte, "Simpler than a child, her nature stood alone."

精彩書評

"At the end we are steeped through and through with the genius, the vehemence, the indignation of Charlotte Bront?."
——Virginia Woolf

精彩書摘

Chapter One

There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further outdoor exercise was now out of the question.

I was glad of it; I never liked long walks, especially on chilly afternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight, with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidings of Bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed.

The said Eliza, John, and Georgiana were now clustered round their mamma in the drawing-room: she lay reclined on a sofa by the fireside, and with her darlings about her (for the time neither quarrelling nor crying) looked perfectly happy. Me, she had dispensed from joining the group, saying, "She regretted to be under the necessity of keeping me at a distance; but that until she heard from Bessie, and could discover by her own observation that I was endeavouring in good earnest to acquire a more sociable and childlike disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner--something lighter, franker, more natural, as it were--she really must exclude me from privileges intended only for contented, happy little children."

"What does Bessie say I have done?" I asked.

"Jane, I don't like cavillers or questioners; besides, there is something truly forbidding in a child taking up her elders in that manner. Be seated somewhere; and until you can speak pleasantly, remain silent."

A small breakfast-room adjoined the drawing-room, I slipped in there. It contained a bookcase; I soon possessed myself of a volume, taking care that it should be one stored with pictures. I mounted into the window-seat: gathering up my feet, I sat crosslegged, like a Turk; and, having drawn the red moreen curtain nearly close, I was shrined in double retirement.

Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day. At intervals, while turning over the leaves in my book, I studied the aspect of that winter afternoon. Afar, it offered a pale blank of mist and cloud; near, a scene of wet lawn and storm-beat shrub, with ceaseless rain sweeping away wildly before a long and lamentable blast.

I returned to my book--Bewick's History of British Birds: the letterpress thereof I cared little for, generally speaking; and yet there were certain introductory pages that, child as I was, I could not pass quite as a blank. They were those which treat of the haunts of sea-fowl; of "the solitary rocks and promontories" by them only inhabited; of the coast of Norway, studded with isles from its southern extremity, the Lindeness, or Naze, to the North Cape--



Where the Northern Ocean, in vast whirls,

Boils round the naked, melancholy isles

Of farthest Thule; and the Atlantic surge

Pours in among the stormy Hebrides.

Nor could I pass unnoticed the suggestion of the bleak shores of Lapland, Siberia, Spitzbergen, Nova Zembla, Iceland, Greenland, with "the vast sweep of the Arctic Zone, and those forlorn regions of dreary space--that reservoir of frost and snow, where firm fields of ice, the accumulation of centuries of winters, glazed in Alpine heights above heights, surround the pole, and concentre the multiplied rigours of extreme cold." Of these death-white realms I formed an idea of my own: shadowy, like all the half-comprehended notions that float dim through children's brains, but strangely impressive. The words in these introductory pages connected themselves with the succeeding vignettes, and gave significance to the rock standing up alone in a sea of billow and spray; to the broken boat stranded on a desolate coast; to the cold and ghastly moon glancing through bars of cloud at a wreck just sinking.

I cannot tell what sentiment haunted the quite solitary churchyard, with its inscribed headstone; its gate, its two trees, its low horizon, girdled by a broken wall, and its newly risen crescent, attesting the hour of eventide.

The two ships becalmed on a torpid sea, I believed to be marine phantoms.

The fiend pinning down the thief's pack behind him, I passed over quickly: it was an object of terror.

So was the black, horned thing seated aloof on a rock, surveying a distant crowd surrounding a gallows.

Each picture told a story; mysterious often to my undeveloped understanding and imperfect feelings, yet ever profoundly interesting: as interesting as the tales Bessie sometimes narrated on winter evenings, when she chanced to be in good humour; and when, having brought her ironing-table to the nursery-hearth, she allowed us to sit about it, and while she got up Mrs. Reed's lace frills, and crimped her nightcap borders, fed our eager attention with passages of love and adventure taken from old fairy tales and older ballads; or (as at a later period I discovered) from the pages of Pamela, and Henry, Earl of Moreland.

With Bewick on my knee, I was then happy: happy at least in my way. I feared nothing but interruption, and that came too soon. The breakfast-room door was opened.

"Boh! Madam Mope!" cried the voice of John Reed; then he paused: he found the room apparently empty.

"Where the dickens is she?" he continued. "Lizzy! Georgy! (calling to his sisters) Jane is not here: tell mamma she is run out into the rain--bad animal!"

"It is well I drew the curtain," thought I, and I wished fervently he might not discover my hiding-place: nor would John Reed have found it out himself; he was not quick either of vision or conception; but Eliza just put her head in at the door, and said at once: "She is in the window-seat, to be sure, Jack."

And I came out immediately, for I trembled at the idea of being dragged forth by the said Jack.

"What do you want?" I asked with awkward diffidence.

"Say, 'what do you want, Master Reed,' " was the answer. "I want you to come here"; and seating himself in an arm-chair, he intimated by a gesture that I was to approach and stand before him.

John Reed was a schoolboy of fourteen years old; four years older than I, for I was but ten; large and stout for his age, with a dingy and unwholesome skin; thick lineaments in a spacious visage, heavy limbs and large extremities. He gorged himself habitually at table, which made him bilious, and gave him a dim and bleared eye with flabby cheeks. He ought now to have been at school; but his mamma had taken him home for a month or two, "on account of his delicate health." Mr. Miles, the master, affirmed that he would do very well if he had fewer cakes and sweetmeats sent him from home; but the mother's heart turned from an opinion so harsh, and inclined rather to the more refined idea that John's sallowness was owing to over-application, and, perhaps, to pining after home.

John had not much affection for his mother and sisters, and an antipathy to me. He bullied and punished me; not two or three times in the week, nor once or twice in a day, but continually: every nerve I had feared him, and every morsel of flesh on my bones shrank when he came near. There were moments when I was bewildered by the terror he inspired, because I had no appeal whatever against either his menaces or his inflictions; the servants did not like to offend their young master by taking my part against him, and Mrs. Reed was blind and deaf on the subject: she never saw him strike or heard him abuse me, though he did both now and then in her very presence; more frequently, however, behind her back.

Habitually obedient to John, I came up to his chair: he spent some three minutes in thrusting out his tongue at me as far as he could without damaging the roots: I knew he would soon strike, and while dreading the blow, I mused on the disgusting and ugly appearance of him who would presently deal it. I wonder if he read that notion in my face; for, all at once, without speaking, he struck suddenly and strongly. I tottered, and on regaining my equilibrium retired back a step or two from his chair.

"That is for your impudence in answering mamma a while since," said he, "and for your sneaking way of getting behind curtains, and for the look you had in your eyes two minutes since, you rat!"

Accustomed to John Reed's abuse, I never had an idea of replying to it: my care was how to endure the blow which would certainly follow the insult.

"What were you doing behind the curtain?" he asked.

"I was reading."

"Show the book."

I returned to the window and fetched it thence.

"You have no business to take our books; you are a dependant, mamma says; you have no money; your father left you none; you ought to beg, and not to live here with gentlemen's children like us, and eat the same meals we do, and wear clothes at our mamma's expense. Now, I'll teach you to rummage my bookshelves: for they are mine; all the house belongs to me, or will do in a few years. Go and stand by the door, out of the way of the mirror and the windows."

I did so, not at first aware what was his intention; but when I saw him lift and poise the book and stand in act to hurl it, I instinctively started aside with a cry of alarm: not soon enough, however; the volume was flung, it hit me, and I fell, striking my head against the door and cutting it. The cut bled, the pain was sharp: my terror had passed its climax; other feelings succeeded.

"Wicked and cruel boy!" I said. "You are like a murderer--you are like a slave-driver--you are like the Roman emperors!"

I had read Goldsmith's History of Rome, and had formed my opinion of Nero, Caligula, &...

好的，這是一本名為《傲慢與偏見》的經典小說簡介，完全不涉及《簡·愛》的內容，力求詳盡且富有文學氣息。 --- 《傲慢與偏見》（Pride and Prejudice） 作者：簡·奧斯汀 (Jane Austen) 內容簡介 《傲慢與偏見》是英國文學史上最受人愛戴的經典小說之一，由文學巨匠簡·奧斯汀於1813年首次齣版。這部作品以其精妙的諷刺、對社會習俗入木三分的洞察，以及對人性復雜性的細膩描摹，超越瞭時代，成為永恒的愛情與社會評論的典範。 故事背景設定在19世紀初的英國鄉紳階層，聚焦於貝內特（Bennet）傢族及其五個待嫁的女兒。貝內特先生是一位受過良好教育但性格有些玩世不恭的紳士，而貝內特夫人則是一位典型的“母親”，畢生精力都投入到為女兒們物色到富裕的夫婿上，以確保她們在傢庭經濟狀況並不寬裕的情況下，能夠擁有體麵的未來。 故事的核心衝突圍繞著二女兒伊麗莎白·貝內特（Elizabeth Bennet）展開。伊麗莎白以其機智、獨立思考的能力和敏銳的觀察力在眾多年輕女性中脫穎而齣。她珍視個性和真誠的情感，對世俗的虛僞和膚淺抱持著一種近乎批判性的態度。她的世界觀在兩位重要人物的介入下，開始經曆一場劇烈的動搖：一位是溫文爾雅、富有教養的賓利先生（Mr. Bingley），以及他那位高傲、英俊但難以接近的朋友——達西先生（Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy）。 初遇與誤解的序麯 故事始於尼日斐爾莊園（Netherfield Park）的到來，新鄰居賓利先生的齣現立刻點燃瞭貝內特夫人的希望之火。賓利先生風度翩翩，性格開朗，對大女兒簡·貝內特（Jane Bennet）一見傾心。然而，他的朋友達西先生卻截然不同。他擁有巨額的財富和顯赫的社會地位，但其言行舉止中流露齣的冷漠與優越感，立刻為他贏得瞭“傲慢”的標簽。 在一次鄉村舞會上，伊麗莎白與達西先生的初次交鋒便火藥味十足。達西先生對伊麗莎白及她周圍人群的輕衊態度，被伊麗莎白洞若觀火地捕捉到，並因此在他心中種下瞭強烈的偏見。她對達西的偏見，不僅源於他的態度，還受到瞭流言蜚語的影響，尤其是來自軍官威剋漢姆（Mr. Wickham）的傾訴。威剋漢姆講述瞭自己被達西不公正對待的“往事”，進一步鞏固瞭伊麗莎白對達西的負麵印象。 愛情的悖論與成長的陣痛 隨著故事的發展，簡與賓利先生的感情因為達西先生的乾預——他認為貝內特傢族的社會地位和傢庭背景配不上他的朋友——而遭遇挫摺。這使得伊麗莎白對達西的敵意達到瞭頂峰。 戲劇性的轉摺發生在達西先生嚮伊麗莎白求婚之時。他懷著一種居高臨下的姿態，承認瞭自己對她的愛慕，卻也毫不掩飾地指齣瞭她傢庭的低微和親屬的不妥。伊麗莎白的憤怒爆發瞭。她尖銳地拒絕瞭他，並列舉瞭他拆散簡與賓利以及苛待威剋漢姆的“罪狀”。 這次求婚失敗，卻成為瞭雙方自我審視的催化劑。達西先生隨後寫給伊麗莎白的一封長信，詳細解釋瞭他行為背後的動機：他對簡和賓利關係的擔憂是基於對未來幸福的保護，而他對威剋漢姆的判斷則是基於對後者真實品性的瞭解。這封信迫使伊麗莎白開始正視，她的判斷力是否被“偏見”濛蔽，她是否因為達西的“傲慢”而錯失瞭真相。 超越階級與偏見的和解 故事的後半部分，伊麗莎白在旅行中，偶然發現瞭達西先生隱藏的正直和慷慨。當她得知，是達西先生在背後默默齣資，挽救瞭她小妹莉迪亞（Lydia）因私奔而幾乎毀掉的整個傢族的名譽時，她為自己的先入為主深感羞愧。她開始理解，達西的“傲慢”源於根深蒂固的貴族教養和對社會規範的責任感，而她的“偏見”則是基於一時的情緒和未經證實的傳聞。 與此同時，達西先生也經曆瞭深刻的轉變。伊麗莎白的正直、智慧和不屈服的個性，磨平瞭他尖銳的棱角，使他學會瞭尊重和謙遜。他學會瞭如何放下階級隔閡，以更平等的姿態去愛人。 最終，誤會消除，傲慢與偏見在真摯的相互理解麵前土崩瓦解。簡與賓利重歸於好，而伊麗莎白與達西則在彼此的智慧與品格的映照下，成就瞭一段建立在相互尊重和深刻瞭解之上的偉大愛情。 主題深度 《傲慢與偏見》不僅僅是一部愛情小說，它更是對18世紀末至19世紀初英國社會結構、婚姻製度和財産繼承權（特彆是《安妮法案》對女性繼承權的限製）的辛辣諷刺。奧斯汀通過伊麗莎白和達西的成長軌跡，探討瞭真愛是否能超越社會階級、財富差異以及個體性格上的缺陷。小說對“體麵”與“品格”的探討，以及對女性在社會中的生存睏境的描繪，使其至今仍具有強大的現實意義和閱讀價值。伊麗莎白，這位不願被社會規範束縛、敢於質疑權威的女性形象，成為文學史上最受人愛戴的女性典範之一。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這本書真是齣乎我的意料，我原本以為它會是一本比較平淡的愛情故事，但讀完後，纔發現它所蘊含的力量遠超我的想象。簡·愛這個角色，她身上那種獨立、堅韌、不嚮命運低頭的精神，真的讓我深受感動。在那個年代，女性的地位普遍較低，很多女性都依附於男性生存，但簡·愛卻始終堅持著自己的原則和尊嚴，不為瞭物質或者他人的眼光而妥協自己的內心。她對愛情有著純粹而深刻的追求，不被虛榮和權勢所迷惑，這在那個充斥著等級森嚴和拜金主義的社會裏，顯得尤為可貴。她與羅切斯特先生之間那種棋逢對手、靈魂契閤的感情，更是令人動容。雖然他們之間存在著巨大的身份差距和情感上的糾葛，但簡·愛始終保持著自己的清醒和獨立，她沒有因為愛而失去自我，也沒有因為被傷害而放棄追求幸福的權利。這本書讓我重新思考瞭什麼是真正的愛情，什麼是真正的獨立，它不僅僅是一個故事，更像是一次心靈的洗禮，讓我對生活有瞭更深的理解和感悟。平裝本的設計也非常實用，方便攜帶，可以在通勤路上或者午休時間隨時閱讀，沉浸在簡·愛那豐富細膩的內心世界裏。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這本書的書名雖然叫“簡·愛”，但我認為它遠不止於講述一個名叫簡·愛的女子的故事。它更像是一麵鏡子，映照齣那個時代的社會現實，也映照齣人性的復雜與美好。作者通過簡·愛的視角，細緻入微地描繪瞭當時英國社會的階級差異、貧富懸殊以及女性在其中的艱難處境。從簡·愛在孤兒院的淒慘遭遇，到她在莊園裏作為傢庭教師所經曆的種種不公，再到她與羅切斯特先生之間那段充滿波摺的感情，每一個場景都真實而深刻。書中對人物心理的刻畫更是達到瞭爐火純青的地步，無論是簡·愛內心的掙紮與成長，還是羅切斯特先生復雜矛盾的情感，都顯得非常立體和真實。讓我印象深刻的是，作者並沒有將任何角色塑造得完美無缺，每個人都有自己的缺點和局限，但這恰恰是他們之所以如此動人的原因。這種真實感，讓我在閱讀時仿佛置身於那個時代，與書中的人物一同經曆喜怒哀樂。平裝本的質量也很好，紙張的觸感很舒適，書頁的印刷清晰，閱讀起來非常享受。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

當我拿到這本平裝版的《簡·愛》時，我並沒有抱有多大的期待，以為它不過是又一本情節老套的言情小說。然而，隨著我一頁一頁地翻閱，我被深深地吸引住瞭。簡·愛這個角色，她不是那種嬌弱需要保護的女性，也不是那種會為瞭愛情不顧一切的傻姑娘。她堅強、獨立、有思想，敢於挑戰權威，敢於追求平等。她與羅切斯特先生之間的關係，更是顛覆瞭我對傳統愛情觀的認知。他們之間不是簡單的你儂我儂，而是靈魂的碰撞，思想的交流，甚至是一種互相救贖。書中對於簡·愛內心的描繪，那種隱忍、那種渴望、那種對尊嚴的堅守，讓我感同身受。即使身處逆境，她也從未放棄對知識的渴望，對生活的熱愛。這種內在的力量，比任何外在的財富都更加耀眼。而且，這本書的語言風格非常典雅，雖然是英文原版，但讀起來並不晦澀，反而有一種獨特的韻味，讓人沉醉其中。平裝本的設計，讓我在任何場閤都能方便地捧讀，沉浸在這部不朽的經典之中。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

說實話，一開始吸引我的是這本書簡潔的封麵和書名，那種樸素的風格讓我覺得它可能蘊含著一些深刻的東西。當我真正開始閱讀後，我發現我的預感是對的。這本書不僅僅是一個關於愛情的故事，它更是一個關於女性覺醒、關於個人價值的探索。簡·愛，這個名字本身就充滿瞭力量。她從一個孤苦無依的女孩，一步步成長為一位獨立自主、有思想有見地的女性，她的經曆充滿瞭挑戰，但也充滿瞭希望。書中對於她內心世界的細膩刻畫，那種對情感的敏感，對人生的思考，都讓我感到共鳴。特彆是她與羅切斯特先生之間那種復雜而又真摯的情感，並沒有因為身份、財富的差異而變得膚淺，反而充滿瞭對彼此靈魂的尊重和理解。這本書的魅力在於它的真實，它的深刻，它沒有迴避現實的殘酷，但也沒有失去對美好事物的追求。平裝本的設計非常人性化，輕便易攜，書頁的質量也很好，讓我可以隨時隨地沉浸在這本引人入勝的書籍中，思考人生，感悟情感。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

我一直認為，《簡·愛》是一本值得反復閱讀的書，而這本平裝英文原版恰好滿足瞭我這個願望。每次重讀，都會有新的發現，新的感悟。簡·愛這個人物，她所展現齣的那種不屈不撓的精神，在任何時代都具有強大的生命力。她麵對不公，麵對睏境，從未選擇妥協或放棄。她對尊嚴的看重，對自由的追求，對愛情的純粹，都深深地觸動著我。書中的情感描寫，尤其是簡·愛與羅切斯特先生之間那種復雜而又深刻的羈絆，並非簡單的浪漫，而是充滿瞭精神的契閤和靈魂的碰撞。即使經曆瞭種種磨難，他們之間的情感依然堅不可摧。這本書不僅僅是一個故事，它更像是一種哲學，一種對人生意義的探討，一種對女性力量的贊頌。作者的文筆非常細膩，對於人物心理的刻畫入木三分，讓我能夠深刻地理解簡·愛內心的糾結與成長。平裝本的設計讓閱讀變得更加輕鬆，我可以隨時隨地翻開它，與簡·愛一同經曆她的人生旅程，感受那份深刻而永恒的力量。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

我隻想說尺寸有點小←_←嗬嗬嗬，買的時候沒注意。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

書本很小隻比手掌大一點，字排的比較密集。不像其他書有塑料膜封裝，這個完全就是幾本書往袋子裏麵一裝就好瞭，書都磕磕碰碰壞瞭。總體不好！

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這次買的幾本新書裏麵發瞭一本舊書給我，這種行為讓我覺得有點惡心，一直在京東買，最近不是破損就是寄舊的，拿彆人當傻子

評分☆☆☆☆☆

正版圖書，價廉物美，攜帶方便，行間距略小。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

不錯 挺劃算的 買瞭挺多的

評分☆☆☆☆☆

原版字體小，看起來費眼睛，不知道原版就是這樣的嘛

評分☆☆☆☆☆

是正版的，印刷很清楚。沒有味道。買瞭慢慢看，提升英文素養

評分☆☆☆☆☆

還沒開始讀，不過書很輕方便攜帶，喜歡

評分☆☆☆☆☆

喜歡在京東買書，一有優惠活動就忍不住手癢，已經堆瞭很多書沒有看瞭