The Secret Garden 秘密花园 英文原版 [平装] pdf epub mobi txt 电子书 下载 2025

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☆☆☆☆☆

Frances Hodgson Burnett（弗朗西斯·霍奇森·伯内特） 著

图书标签:

• 经典文学
• 儿童文学
• 英文原版
• 平装本
• 花园
• 成长
• 友谊
• 治愈
• 英国文学
• 小说

出版社： Penguin US

ISBN：9780451528834

版次：1

商品编码：19043488

包装：平装

出版时间：2003-07-01

用纸：胶版纸

页数：288

正文语种：英文

商品尺寸：10.41x2.03x17.27cm

编辑推荐

It is only the exceptional author who can write a book about children with sufficient skill, charm, simplicity, and significance to make it acceptable to both young and old. Mrs. Burnett is one of the few thus gifted
　　《秘密花园》是美国著名儿童文学作家伯内特夫人最负盛名的作品，也是一百年来畅销不衰的经典儿童小说。它曾经先后十几次被改编成电影，电视，卡通片，话剧，舞台剧等，受到全世界大人和孩子的追捧与热爱。在英语儿章文学里，《秘密花园》是公认的无年龄界限的精品，也是一部打通雅俗界限的文学作品，被收入《牛津世界经典丛书》。

内容简介

This timeless classic is a poignant tale of Mary, a lonely orphaned girl sent to a Yorkshire mansion at the edge of a vast lonely moor. At first, she is frightened by this gloomy place until she meets a local boy, Dickon, who's earned the trust of the moor's wild animals, the invalid Colin, an unhappy boy terrified of life, and a mysterious, abandoned garden... Annotation Frances Hodgson Burnett's beloved classic is adapted for beginning readers in this colorfully illustrated version. The spoiled orphan Mary Lennox leaves India to live with her cold uncle in his dreary mansion in England. When Mary hears of a secret garden kept locked for ten years, she is determined to find it and tend it back to life. With the help of her uncle's sickly son and a boy who knows all about nature, Mary secretly transforms the garden - and all of their lives.

　　《秘密花园》讲述了一个发人深省的故事。主人公玛莉生于印度的一个村庄。父母都是英国人。一次霍乱摧毁了这个印度的小村庄，玛莉的父母和奶妈也在霍乱中死去，成为孤儿的玛莉只好投靠在英国的姑父。她被带到英国后。生活在姑父的庄园里。

作者简介

Frances Hodgson Burnett was a born storyteller. Even as a young child, her greatest pleasure was in making up stories and acting them out, using her dolls as characters. She wrote over forty books, including the classic A Little Princess, also illustrated by Tasha Tudor.

　　弗朗西丝·霍奇森·伯内特，女，(1849年11月24日至1924年10月29日)生于英国曼彻斯特市，1865年随全家移民美国田纳西州。1873年与伯内特博士(Dr. S.M.Burnett)结婚，育有二子。 　　
　　伯内特的父亲早逝，家境贫寒，从18岁开始在杂志上发表故事，贴补家用。她的一本畅销书是28岁时出版的《劳瑞家的那闺女》(That Lass O’Lowries)，取材于幼年她在英国煤矿的生活。可是，让弗朗西丝·霍奇森·伯内特闻名于世的，是她的儿童文学作品。1886年她发表了小说《小少爷方特罗伊》，写一个美国小男孩成为英国伯爵继承人的故事。“方特罗伊”从此成为英语词汇，指“过分盛装打扮的小孩”。这本书让伯内特成为当时最畅销、最富有的流行作家之一。此书和1905年发表的《小公主》都曾被改编成话剧。1939年，电影《小公主》由当时红极一时的童星秀兰·邓波儿(Sherley Temper)主演。伯内特从小喜欢植物，离婚后投入园艺。她在英国的住所周围有几个带围墙的花园，其中一个是她的户外书房，每天在花园里写作。1909年，当她在纽约长岛布置自己家花园的时候，突发灵感，构思出《秘密花园》。这本小说初版于1911年，在她的两个国家——英国和美国都畅销，并且成为她最知名、最成功的作品。因为她的儿童文学作品，使她在世时收入丰厚?是享有盛名的小说家和剧作家。弗朗西丝·霍奇森·伯内特于1924年在美国纽约州长岛去世。

精彩书评

Grade 3–6—First published in 1911, Burnett's tale of burgeoning self-awareness, newfound friendship, and the healing effects of nature is presented in an elegant, oversize volume and handsomely illustrated with Moore's detailed ink and watercolor paintings. Cleanly laid-out text pages are balanced by artwork ranging from delicate spot images to full-page renderings. The outdoor scenes are beautifully depicted, presenting realistic images of animals and flowers, with the hues gradually warming in sync with the story's progression from winter's browns and beiges to the lush colors of spring. The young protagonists—lonely Mary Lennox; her sickly and spoiled cousin, Colin; and likable local lad Dickon—bound to life in the evocative paintings, which reflect the wonders of transformations in both nature and in a child's heart. All in all, a lovely interpretation.
—Joy Fleishhacker, School Library Journal

Soothing and mellifluous, native Briton Bailey's voice proves an excellent instrument for polishing up a new edition of Burnett's story. Bratty and spoiled Mary Lennox is orphaned when her parents fall victim to a cholera outbreak in India. As a result, Mary becomes the ward of an uncle in England she has never met. As she hesitantly tries to carve a new life for herself at imposing and secluded Misselthwaite Manor, Mary befriends a high-spirited boy named Dickon and investigates a secret garden on the Manor grounds. She also discovers a sickly young cousin, Colin, who has been shut away in a hidden Manor room. Together Mary and Dickon help Colin blossom, and in the process Mary finds her identity and melts the heart of her emotionally distant uncle. Bailey makes fluid transitions between the voices and accents of various characters, from terse Mrs. Medlock and surly groundskeeper Ben to chipper housemaid Martha. And most enjoyably, she gives Mary a believably childlike voice. A brief biography of the author is included in an introduction. Ages 6-12.
— Publishers Weekly

目录

Chapter1:There Is No OneLeft
Chapter2:Martha
Chapter3:TheCry in the Corridor
Chapter4:TheKey of the Garden
Chapter5:TheStrangest House Anyone Ever Lived In
Chapter6:“Might I Have aBit of Earth?”
Chapter7:“IAm Colin”
Chapter8:AYoung Rajah
Chapter9:NestBuilding
Chapter10:ATantrum
Chapter11:“Tha’ MunnotWaste No Time”
Chapter12:“IShall Live Forever-and Ever-and Ever!”
Chapter13:Magic
Chapter14:Inthe Garden

精彩书摘

CHAPTER I
There Is No One Left
When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. It was true, too. She had a little thin face and a little thin body, thin light hair and a sour expression. Her hair was yellow, and her face was yellow because she had been born in India and had always been ill in one way or another. Her father had held a position under the English Government and had always been busy and ill himself, and her mother had been a great beauty who cared only to go to parties and amuse herself with gay people. She had not wanted a little girl at all, and when Mary was born she handed her over to the care of an Ayah, who was made to understand that if she wished to please the Mem Sahib she must keep the child out of sight as much as possible. So when she was a sickly, fretful, ugly little baby she was kept out of the way, and when she became a sickly, fretful, toddling thing she was kept out of the way also. She never remembered seeing familiarly anything but the dark faces of her Ayah and the other native servants, and as they always obeyed her and gave her her own way in everything, because the Mem Sahib would be angry if she was disturbed by her crying, by the time she was six years old she was as tyrannical and selfish a little pig as ever lived. The young English governess who came to teach her to read and write disliked her so much that she gave up her place in three months, and when other governesses came to try to fill it they always went away in a shorter time than the first one. So if Mary had not chosen to really want to know how to read books she would never have learned her letters at all.
One frightfully hot morning, when she was about nine years old, she awakened feeling very cross, and she became crosser still when she saw that the servant who stood by her bedside was not her Ayah.
“Why did you come?” she said to the strange woman. “I will not let you stay. Send my Ayah to me.”
The woman looked frightened, but she only stammered that the Ayah could not come and when Mary threw herself into a passion and beat and kicked her, she looked only more frightened and repeated that it was not possible for the Ayah to come to Missie Sahib.
There was something mysterious in the air that morning. Nothing was done in its regular order and several of the native servants seemed missing, while those whom Mary saw slunk or hurried about with ashy and scared faces. But no one would tell her anything and her Ayah did not come. She was actually left alone as the morning went on, and at last she wandered out into the garden and began to play by herself under a tree near the veranda. She pretended that she was making a flower-bed, and she stuck big scarlet hibiscus blossoms into little heaps of earth, all the time growing more and more angry and muttering to herself the things she would say and the names she would call Saidie when she returned.
“Pig! Pig! Daughter of Pigs!” she said, because to call a native a pig is the worst insult of all.
She was grinding her teeth and saying this over and over again when she heard her mother come out on the veranda with some one. She was with a fair young man and they stood talking together in low strange voices. Mary knew the fair young man who looked like a boy. She had heard that he was a very young officer who had just come from England. The child stared at him, but she stared most at her mother. She always did this when she had a chance to see her, because the Mem Sahib—Mary used to call her that oftener than anything else—was such a tall, slim, pretty person and wore such lovely clothes. Her hair was like curly silk and she had a delicate little nose which seemed to be disdaining things, and she had large laughing eyes. All her clothes were thin and floating, and Mary said they were “full of lace.” They looked fuller of lace than ever this morning, but her eyes were not laughing at all. They were large and scared and lifted imploringly to the fair boy officer’s face.
“Is it so very bad? Oh, is it?” Mary heard her say.
“Awfully,” the young man answered in a trembling voice. “Awfully, Mrs. Lennox. You ought to have gone to the hills two weeks ago.”
The Mem Sahib wrung her hands.
“Oh, I know I ought!” she cried. “I only stayed to go to that silly dinner party. What a fool I was!”
At that very moment such a loud sound of wailing broke out from the servants’ quarters that she clutched the young man’s arm, and Mary stood shivering from head to foot. The wailing grew wilder and wilder.
“What is it? What is it?” Mrs. Lennox gasped.
“Some one has died,” answered the boy officer. “You did not say it had broken out among your servants.”
“I did not know!” the Mem Sahib cried. “Come with me! Come with me!” and she turned and ran into the house.
After that appalling things happened, and the mysteriousness of the morning was explained to Mary. The cholera had broken out in its most fatal form and people were dying like flies. The Ayah had been taken ill in the night, and it was because she had just died that the servants had wailed in the huts. Before the next day three other servants were dead and others had run away in terror. There was panic on every side, and dying people in all the bungalows.
During the confusion and bewilderment of the second day Mary hid herself in the nursery and was forgotten by every one. Nobody thought of her, nobody wanted her, and strange things happened of which she knew nothing. Mary alternately cried and slept through the hours. She only knew that people were ill and that she heard mysterious and frightening sounds. Once she crept into the dining-room and found it empty, though a partly finished meal was on the table and chairs and plates looked as if they had been hastily pushed back when the diners rose suddenly for some reason. The child ate some fruit and biscuits, and being thirsty she drank a glass of wine which stood nearly filled. It was sweet, and she did not know how strong it was. Very soon it made her intensely drowsy, and she went back to her nursery and shut herself in again, frightened by cries she heard in the huts and by the hurrying sound of feet. The wine made her so sleepy that she could scarcely keep her eyes open and she lay down on her bed and knew nothing more for a long time.
Many things happened during the hours in which she slept so heavily, but she was not disturbed by the wails and the sound of things being carried in and out of the bungalow.
When she awakened she lay and stared at the wall. The house was perfectly still. She had never known it to be so silent before. She heard neither voices nor footsteps, and wondered if everybody had got well of the cholera and all the trouble was over. She wondered also who would take care of her now her Ayah was dead. There would be a new Ayah, and perhaps she would know some new stories. Mary had been rather tired of the old ones. She did not cry because her nurse had died. She was not an affectionate child and had never cared much for any one. The noise and hurrying about and wailing over the cholera had frightened her, and she had been angry because no one seemed to remember that she was alive. Every one was too panic-stricken to think of a little girl no one was fond of. When people had the cholera it seemed that they remembered nothing but themselves. But if every one had got well again, surely some one would remember and come to look for her.
But no one came, and as she lay waiting the house seemed to grow more and more silent. She heard something rustling on the matting and when she looked down she saw a little snake gliding along and watching her with eyes like jewels. She was not frightened, because he was a harmless little thing who would not hurt her and he seemed in a hurry to get out of the room. He slipped under the door as she watched him.
“How queer and quiet it is,” she said. “It sounds as if there was no one in the bungalow but me and the snake.”
Almost the next minute she heard footsteps in the compound, and then on the veranda. They were men’s footsteps, and the men entered the bungalow and talked in low voices. No one went to meet or speak to them and they seemed to open doors and look into rooms.
“What desolation!” she heard one voice say. “That pretty, pretty woman! I suppose the child, too. I heard there was a child, though no one ever saw her.”
Mary was standing in the middle of the nursery when they opened the door a few minutes later. She looked an ugly, cross little thing and was frowning because she was beginning to be hungry and feel disgracefully neglected. The first man who came in was a large officer she had once seen talking to her father. He looked tired and troubled, but when he saw her he was so startled that he almost jumped back.
“Barney!” he cried out. “There is a child here! A child alone! In a place like this! Mercy on us, who is she!”
“I am Mary Lennox,” the little girl said, drawing herself up stiffly. She thought the man was very rude to call her father’s bungalow “A place like this!” “I fell asleep when every one had the cholera and I have only just wakened up. Why does nobody come?”
“It is the child no one ever saw!” exclaimed the man, turning to his companions. “She has actually been forgotten!”
“Why was I forgotten?” Mary said, stamping her foot. “Why does nobody come?”
The young man whose name was Barney looked at her very sadly. Mary even thought she saw him wink his eyes as if to wink tears away.
“Poor little kid!” he said. “There is nobody left to come.”

前言/序言

好的，这是一份关于其他图书的详细简介，不涉及《秘密花园》。 --- 《百年孤独》（Cien años de soledad）—— 经典魔幻现实主义的史诗 作者：加夫列尔·加西亚·马尔克斯 (Gabriel García Márquez) 导读与内容梗概 《百年孤独》是哥伦比亚作家、诺贝尔文学奖得主加夫列尔·加西亚·马尔克斯的代表作，被誉为拉丁美洲“魔幻现实主义”文学的巅峰之作。这部小说不仅仅是一个家族的故事，更是一部浓缩了拉丁美洲历史、文化与神话的宏大史诗。它以其独特的叙事风格、丰富的人物群像和对时间、记忆、爱与孤独的深刻探讨，构建了一个虚构却又无比真实的布恩迪亚家族的七代人传奇。 马孔多：一个世界的缩影 故事的起点是马孔多（Macondo）——一个由布恩迪亚家族创始人何塞·阿尔卡蒂奥·布恩迪亚（José Arcadio Buendía）和乌尔苏拉·伊瓜兰（Úrsula Iguarán）一手创建的“乌托邦”小镇。马孔多的诞生充满了原始的生命力和神秘色彩，它如同世界的孤岛，与外部世界隔绝，自给自足地发展着。然而，随着时间的推移，外部世界的洪流，包括战争、政治纷争、殖民掠夺和现代化的冲击，不可避免地侵入了这片净土，引发了一系列的灾难与变迁。 布恩迪亚家族的宿命轮回 小说的核心围绕着布恩迪亚家族成员的兴衰展开。这个家族的命名似乎遵循着一种残酷的循环：阿尔卡蒂奥和奥雷里亚诺交替出现，每一代人都似乎在重复着前人的错误、激情与孤独。 第一代： 何塞·阿尔卡蒂奥·布恩迪亚是一位富有探索精神和疯狂想象力的族长，他对炼金术、科学和未知世界的痴迷，最终将他引向孤独的疯癫。乌尔苏拉，他坚韧的妻子，是家族的实际支柱，她以惊人的生命力和实用主义维系着家族的延续。 第二代： 最引人注目的是奥雷里亚诺上校（Colonel Aureliano Buendía），他参与了三十多年的内战，打过大大小小的战役，却始终无法理解战争的意义，最终退隐，在孤独中制作和熔化金鱼。他的兄弟何塞·阿尔卡蒂奥二世（José Arcadio Segundo）则经历了马孔多的香蕉公司大屠杀，这一事件成为了家族乃至马孔多历史上的一个巨大伤疤。 后续世代： 随后的几代人，如充满艺术气息却英年早逝的阿尔卡蒂奥，以及被爱情和宿命困扰的奥雷里亚诺二世和何塞·阿尔卡蒂奥二世，他们的故事交织着禁忌之恋、背叛、魔法与令人心碎的宿命感。 魔幻现实主义的叙事基调 马尔克斯在这部作品中将魔幻元素与日常现实无缝地融合在一起。漂浮的吉卜赛人带来的冰块和磁铁，蕾梅黛丝美女的升天，以及持续了近五年的滂沱大雨，这些超乎寻常的事件被叙述者以一种冷静、客观、近乎新闻报道的语气呈现，使得读者难以分辨何为真实，何为幻想。这种叙事手法不仅反映了拉丁美洲历史的荒诞性，也深刻地表达了人类经验中那些无法用理性完全解释的部分。 核心主题的深度挖掘 《百年孤独》探讨的主题是多层次且永恒的： 1. 孤独 (Solitude)： 这是贯穿全书的基调。布恩迪亚家族的每一位成员，无论他们是身处战争的喧嚣、财富的顶峰，还是沉浸于爱情的狂热中，最终都无法逃脱深刻的个体孤独。这种孤独既是个人选择的结果，也是家族遗传的诅咒。 2. 时间与循环 (Time and Cyclicality)： 小说的时间观是非线性的。事件不断重复，名字不断重现，历史似乎总是在原地打转。家族成员不断重蹈覆辙，直到最终的毁灭，揭示了人类历史的宿命感和徒劳性。 3. 记忆与遗忘 (Memory and Forgetting)： 遗忘症的爆发是马孔多历史上的一个关键事件，象征着文化和历史记忆的脆弱性。马尔克斯强调，只有通过铭记历史，才能避免被历史吞噬。 4. 爱与禁忌 (Love and Incest)： 家族成员之间错综复杂的亲缘关系，尤其是对乱伦的恐惧（害怕生出长着猪尾巴的孩子），构成了家族命运的内在驱动力。爱与欲望常常以破坏性的方式出现。 结尾的震撼与启示 小说的尾声是文学史上最辉煌的篇章之一。当最后一位布恩迪亚后裔——一个拥有猪尾巴的孩子诞生时，家族的预言终于实现。在家族的最后一位成员破译了羊皮卷上梅尔基亚德斯留下的预言时，马孔多被飓风彻底抹去。这一结局既是毁灭性的，也是一种终极的解脱——因为家族被记载、被理解，他们的存在才得以完成。 《百年孤独》是一部需要耐心阅读、反复品味的巨著。它不仅是对一个家族兴衰的编年史，更是对人类境况、历史必然性以及魔幻与现实共存的深刻哲学思考。它的语言充满了诗意和奇诡的想象力，是全球文学爱好者不可错过的经典之作。 ---

评分☆☆☆☆☆

这本书的叙事节奏把握得极其精妙，它并非那种大开大合、情节跌宕起伏的小说，而是更像一位老道的园丁，耐心地引导你走进一片逐渐苏醒的土地。初读时，你会感觉到一种慢悠悠的、甚至略带压抑的氛围，仿佛身处阴冷的冬季，一切都裹挟在灰蒙蒙的雾气里。作者的笔触极其细腻，对于人物细微的情感变化，无论是内心的挣扎还是不经意的动作，都捕捉得丝丝入扣。你看着主人公一点点地卸下心防，那种转变是渐进的、真实的，没有丝毫的刻意和矫揉造作。这种缓慢的铺陈，反而为后来的爆发积蓄了强大的情感张力。当故事的转折点到来时，你会发现自己早已完全沉浸其中，为角色的每一次小小的进步而感到由衷的欣慰。它教会我们，真正的疗愈和成长，往往需要时间去酝酿，去等待阳光穿透云层的那一刻，而不是急于求成地去催促花朵绽放。

评分☆☆☆☆☆

这本书的封面设计简直是一场视觉的盛宴，那种带着岁月痕迹的插画，色彩饱和度恰到好处，仿佛能透过纸张闻到泥土和老藤蔓的气息。我一拿到手，就忍不住被它吸引住了，那种老派的英伦风情扑面而来，让人立刻联想到壁炉里噼啪作响的火光和窗外淅淅沥沥的秋雨。内页的排版也十分考究，字体的选择典雅又不失易读性，留白处理得当，使得阅读体验极为舒适。装帧的质量也让人放心，平装本却有着超出预期的坚固感，即便是经常翻阅，也不会轻易出现松散的情况。可以说，光是这本书的外在，就足够让喜爱经典文学和精美印刷品的读者心动不已了。它不仅仅是一本书，更像是一件可以珍藏的艺术品，摆在书架上也是一道亮丽的风景线，每次路过都会让人想再次拾起它，感受那份沉甸甸的墨香与怀旧情怀。这种对实体书的尊重和用心，在如今这个数字阅读盛行的时代，显得尤为珍贵和难得。

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我尤其欣赏作者在构建环境氛围上的高超技巧。她对自然景物的描绘，简直达到了诗意的境界。那种对植物形态、土壤气息乃至光影变幻的精准捕捉，让人感觉自己仿佛真的置身于那个被遗忘已久、充满神秘气息的角落。每一次对新发现的细节的描绘，都伴随着一种近乎宗教般的虔诚感。比如，当主人公第一次触碰到那些被藤蔓覆盖的铁艺大门时，那种冰冷、粗粝的质感似乎能透过文字直达指尖。而当生命力重新注入那片荒芜之地时，文字的色彩和温度也随之改变，变得温暖、明亮、充满生机。这种环境与人物心灵状态的深度契合，是很多现代小说难以企及的。书中的场景描写，不仅仅是背景板，它们是活生生的参与者，是故事中沉默却最有力量的见证者，引导着读者的情绪走向。

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从文学语言的角度来看，这本书的词汇选择和句式结构展现了那个时代独特的优雅和韵律感。语言本身就是一种享受，它不像当代快餐式阅读那样追求直白和效率，而是注重措辞的精准和音韵的美感。你会发现很多用词极为考究，即便是描述一个最寻常的动作，也能被赋予一种古典的仪式感。这种精炼的语言艺术，使得即便是初次接触经典文学的读者，也不会感到晦涩难懂，反而会被这种沉稳的叙述风格所吸引。它像一首经过精心打磨的古典乐章，每一个音符的排列都有其存在的理由，共同构建出一种和谐、宁静的阅读体验。读完合上书本，那种回味无穷的韵味，久久不散，让人不由自主地想要重新翻到某一页，再次品味那段被时间打磨得晶莹剔透的文字。

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这部作品的深度远超乎其表面上看似简单的童话故事框架。它巧妙地探讨了许多复杂而永恒的主题，比如孤独、被爱、家庭的意义，以及最核心的——“治愈的力量”。这里的“治愈”并非仅仅指身体上的康复，更多的是对灵魂创伤的修复。它以一种极其温柔且不加评判的方式，展示了人与人之间、人与自然之间建立健康联结的重要性。书中的角色们，无论是以何种形式存在，都在寻找归属感和被接纳的空间。这种对人性深处脆弱面的坦诚展示，让成年读者在阅读时也能找到强烈的共鸣。它似乎在低语着一个秘密：每个人心中都有一座可以自我修复的“花园”，关键在于我们是否有勇气和耐心去挖掘并照料它。这种蕴含的哲思，值得反复咀嚼和体会。

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纸质还不错，有点小贵，但是作为原版书，价格也算合理了……

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排版比较紧凑，印刷清晰，比较小方便携带，个人还是偏向稍大点的，不然显得太厚

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先买的中文版，原版纸质书小巧轻便，携带方便。

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送朋友孩子的，还在小学不知道能不能看懂呢。

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一直在京东上买英文原版书，送货速度快

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英文版的，书很小也不厚，买本名著原版看看，就是价格贵，不打折原价。。

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那是相当的好啊，哈哈，还不错，东西挺满意的。哎，我就是觉得京东这个评论太麻烦了

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地哦滴CV嗯逗逗我卡夫卡

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买了很多书，三十本有的吧，除了老鼠记者就是获儿童文学奖或者儿子感兴趣的，字体较小，经看，这些书够儿子看一学期的了