Warm Bodies 温暖的尸体 [平装] pdf epub mobi txt 电子书 下载 2025

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☆☆☆☆☆

Isaac Marion 著

图书标签:

• 僵尸
• 浪漫
• 科幻
• 末日
• 爱情
• 喜剧
• 青少年
• 奇幻
• 生存
• 超自然

出版社： Random House UK

ISBN：9780099549345

商品编码：19262190

包装：平装

出版时间：2010-12-01

用纸：胶版纸

页数：256

正文语种：英文

商品尺寸：19.8x13.2x1.6cm;0.25kg

编辑推荐

　　一场末日浩劫后的未来，神秘的病毒毁灭了文明，受害者丧失过去的记忆，变身为吃活人的僵尸，幸存的人类建立起坚固的高墙堡垒，以防止饥饿的僵尸们，成群结队闯进来猎食…。然而，这种看似传统活尸片的背景设定，却因男主角R的出现而颠覆一切！R是个没有记忆、心跳的僵尸，却怀抱着许多梦想，他的内心世界充满惊奇与渴望。某日R正在猎食人类时，竟然煞到了一位温暖、灿烂的活生生女孩茱莉，R不但没吃掉她的脑袋，还决定救她一命，让她免于遭受R的僵尸同伴吞噬。 对原本形如槁木死灰的R而言，茱莉的出现，简直是苍灰阴郁中一抹奔放艳丽的色彩。于是一段紧张而又异常温柔的甜蜜关系就此展开。
　　R悄悄把茱莉带回他称为家的地方，即一座满布僵尸的机场，并让她躲在一架废弃的767波音客机上，里面有他到处搜集而来的“宝藏”，包括黑胶唱片、雪景水晶球、乐器等。接下来的几天，他们在这个隐匿处意外地共度了惬意的日子，在不知不觉之中，活泼的茱莉唤起R遗忘已久的人性情感，而她也开始了解到他不只是个慢动作、眼神呆滞的行尸走肉。
　　茱莉很困惑自己对于R的感情，于是带着复杂情绪返回人类城市。她父亲是无情的僵尸猎人，领导人类大军捍卫他们仅存的高墙家园。同时，害相思病的R开始产生前所未有的改变，他相信自己与茱莉的相知相惜能够拯救无论是生是死的人类，不过他出现在她家门口时，很快就掀起活人和僵尸（以及皮包骨）之间的全面性混战，而这也威胁到这一对奇迹恋人未来能否在一起的可贵机会。
　　这种事从没发生过，不但不合逻辑，也违背了规矩，不但改变了R，也改变他的僵尸同伴，甚至让死气沉沉的世界出现了生机。然而，在那阴森腐败的世界里，想要完成梦想，他们还需要一场革命……

内容简介

R is a young man with an existential crisis--he is a zombie. He shuffles through an America destroyed by war, social collapse, and the mindless hunger of his undead comrades, but he craves something more than blood and brains. He can speak just a few grunted syllables, but his inner life is deep, full of wonder and longing. He has no memories, noidentity, and no pulse, but he has dreams.
After experiencing a teenage boy's memories while consuming his brain, R makes an unexpected choice that begins a tense, awkward, and stragely sweet relationship with the victim's human girlfriend. Julie is a blast of color in the otherwise dreary and gray landscape that surrounds R. His decision to protect her will transform not only R, but his fellow Dead, and perhaps their whole lifeless world.
Scary, funny, and surprisingly poignant, Warm Bodies is about being alive, being dead, and the blurry line in between.

　　《温暖的尸体》讲述了一个叫做“R”的僵尸和一个他杀死的人类的女友之间的浪漫关系，这段关系引发了连锁反应，不仅改变了他和他的僵尸伙伴，也改变了整个僵尸世界。

作者简介

Isaac Marion was born near Seattle in 1981 and has lived in and around that city ever since. Deciding to forgo college in favor of direct experience, he dived into writing while still in high school and self-published three terrible novels before finally hitting his stride with Warm Bodies, his first published work. He currently splits his time between writing in Seattle and hunting inspiration on cross-country RV trips. Visit IsaacMarion.com.

精彩书评

“I never thought I could care so passionately for a zombie. Isaac Marion has created the most unexpected romantic lead I've ever encountered, and rewritten the entire concept of what it means to be a zombie in the process. This story stayed with me long after I was done reading it. I eagerly await the next book by Isaac Marion.”
(Stephenie Meyer, #1 New York Times Bestselling author of the Twilight series)

“A mesmerising evolution of a classic contemporary myth.”
(Simon Pegg, New York Times bestselling author of Nerd Do Well)

“Warm Bodies is a terrific book—a compelling literary fantasy which is also a strange and affecting pop-culture parable.”
(Nick Harkaway, author of The Gone-Away World)

“Isaac Marion has a great new voice that hooks you from page one and accomplishes the impossible: it makes you care about young zombie love. Warm Bodies is a terrific read.”
(Josh Bazell, New York Times bestselling author of Beat the Reaper)

“Enormous fun.”
(Marie Claire (UK))

“Wryly playful, cinematic, and ultimately moving.”
(Time Out London)

“Has there been a more sympathetic monster since Frankenstein's?”
(The Financial Times)

“It’s got the boarded-up strongholds and mob mentality of Night of the Living Dead—but also romance. As the evil thing resists its evil nature, the book neuters zombies in the same way Stephanie Meyer did vampires.”
(Time Out NY)

“If you haven't caught on to Isaac Marion's writing yet, you're really missing out.”
(About.com)

“In elegant, evocative prose, Marion has fashioned the world’s most unlikely romance in a story that is by turns harrowing, poignant, and tender. At the last, the reader is reminded that we are all ultimately human, whether living or dead. Utterly charming.”
(Library Journal (starred review))

前言/序言

I AM DEAD, but it’s not so bad. I’ve learned to live with it. I’m sorry I can’t properly introduce myself, but I don’t have a name anymore. Hardly any of us do. We lose them like car keys, forget them like anniversaries. Mine might have started with an “R,” but that’s all I have now. It’s funny because back when I was alive, I was always forgetting other people’s names. My friend “M” says the irony of being a zombie is that everything is funny, but you can’t smile, because your lips have rotted off.
None of us are particularly attractive, but death has been kinder to me than some. I’m still in the early stages of decay. Just the gray skin, the unpleasant smell, the dark circles under my eyes. I could almost pass for a Living man in need of a vacation. Before I became a zombie I must have been a businessman, a banker or broker or some young temp learning the ropes, because I’m wearing fairly nice clothes. Black slacks, gray shirt, red tie. M makes fun of me sometimes. He points at my tie and tries to laugh, a choked, gurgling rumble deep in his gut. His clothes are holey jeans and a plain white T-shirt. The shirt is looking pretty macabre by now. He should have picked a darker color.
We like to joke and speculate about our clothes, since these final fashion choices are the only indication of who we were before we became no one. Some are less obvious than mine: shorts and a sweater, skirt and a blouse. So we make random guesses.
You were a waitress. You were a student. Ring any bells?
It never does.
No one I know has any specific memories. Just a vague, vestigial knowledge of a world long gone. Faint impressions of past lives that linger like phantom limbs. We recognize civilization—buildings, cars, a general overview—but we have no personal role in it. No history. We are just here. We do what we do, time passes, and no one asks questions. But like I’ve said, it’s not so bad. We may appear mindless, but we aren’t. The rusty cogs of cogency still spin, just geared down and down till the outer motion is barely visible. We grunt and groan, we shrug and nod, and sometimes a few words slip out. It’s not that different from before.
But it does make me sad that we’ve forgotten our names. Out of everything, this seems to me the most tragic. I miss my own and I mourn for everyone else’s, because I’d like to love them, but I don’t know who they are.
There are hundreds of us living in an abandoned airport outside some large city. We don’t need shelter or warmth, obviously, but we like having the walls and roofs over our heads. Otherwise we’d just be wandering in an open field of dust somewhere, and that would be horrifying. To have nothing at all around us, nothing to touch or look at, no hard lines whatsoever, just us and the gaping maw of the sky. I imagine that’s what being full-dead is like. An emptiness vast and absolute.
I think we’ve been here a long time. I still have all my flesh, but there are elders who are little more than skeletons with clinging bits of muscle, dry as jerky. Somehow it still extends and contracts, and they keep moving. I have never seen any of us “die” of old age. Left alone with plenty of food, maybe we’d “live” forever, I don’t know. The future is as blurry to me as the past. I can’t seem to make myself care about anything to the right or left of the present, and the present isn’t exactly urgent. You might say death has relaxed me.
I am riding the escalators when M finds me. I ride the escalators several times a day, whenever they move. It’s become a ritual. The airport is derelict, but the power still flickers on sometimes, maybe flowing from emergency generators stuttering deep underground. Lights flash and screens blink, machines jolt into motion. I cherish these moments. The feeling of things coming to life. I stand on the steps and ascend like a soul into Heaven, that sugary dream of our childhoods, now a tasteless joke.
After maybe thirty repetitions, I rise to find M waiting for me at the top. He is hundreds of pounds of muscle and fat draped on a six-foot-five frame. Bearded, bald, bruised and rotten, his grisly visage slides into view as I crest the staircase summit. Is he the angel that greets me at the gates? His ragged mouth is oozing black drool.
He points in a vague direction and grunts, “City.”
I nod and follow him.
We are going out to find food. A hunting party forms around us as we shuffle toward town. It’s not hard to find recruits for these expeditions, even if no one is hungry. Focused thought is a rare occurrence here, and we all follow it when it manifests. Otherwise we’d just be standing around and groaning all day. We do a lot of standing around and groaning. Years pass this way. The flesh withers on our bones and we stand here, waiting for it to go. I often wonder how old I am.
The city where we do our hunting is conveniently close. We arrive around noon the next day and start looking for flesh. The new hunger is a strange feeling. We don’t feel it in our stomachs—some of us don’t even have those. We feel it everywhere equally, a sinking, sagging sensation, as if our cells are deflating. Last winter, when so many Living joined the Dead and our prey became scarce, I watched some of my friends become full-dead. The transition was undramatic. They just slowed down, then stopped, and after a while I realized they were corpses. It disquieted me at first, but it’s against etiquette to notice when one of us dies. I distracted myself with some groaning.
I think the world has mostly ended, because the cities we wander through are as rotten as we are. Buildings have collapsed. Rusted cars clog the streets. Most glass is shattered, and the wind drifting through the hollow high-rises moans like an animal left to die. I don’t know what happened. Disease? War? Social collapse? Or was it just us? The Dead replacing the Living? I guess it’s not so important. Once you’ve arrived at the end of the world, it hardly matters which route you took.
We start to smell the Living as we approach a dilapidated apartment building. The smell is not the musk of sweat and skin, it’s the effervescence of life energy, like the ionized tang of lightning and lavender. We don’t smell it in our noses. It hits us deeper inside, near our brains, like wasabi. We converge on the building and crash our way inside.
We find them huddled in a small studio unit with the windows boarded up. They are dressed worse than we are, wrapped in filthy tatters and rags, all of them badly in need of a shave. M will be saddled with a short blond beard for the rest of his Fleshy existence, but everyone else in our party is cleanshaven. It’s one of the perks of being dead, another thing we don’t have to worry about anymore. Beards, hair, toenails… no more fighting biology. Our wild bodies have finally been tamed.
Slow and clumsy but with unswerving commitment, we launch ourselves at the Living. Shotgun blasts fill the dusty air with gunpowder and gore. Black blood spatters the walls. The loss of an arm, a leg, a portion of torso, this is disregarded, shrugged off. A minor cosmetic issue. But some of us take shots to our brains, and we drop. Apparently there’s still something of value in that withered gray sponge because if we lose it, we are corpses. The zombies to my left and right hit the ground with moist thuds. But there are plenty of us. We are overwhelming. We set upon the Living, and we eat.
Eating is not a pleasant business. I chew off a man’s arm, and I hate it. I hate his screams, because I don’t like pain, I don’t like hurting people, but this is the world now. This is what we do. Of course if I don’t eat all of him, if I spare his brain, he’ll rise up and follow me back to the airport, and that might make me feel better. I’ll introduce him to everyone, and maybe we’ll stand around and groan for a while. It’s hard to say what “friends” are anymore, but that might be close. If I restrain myself, if I leave enough…
But I don’t. I can’t. As always I go straight for the good part, the part that makes my head light up like a picture tube. I eat the brain, and for about thirty seconds, I have memories. Flashes of parades, perfume, music… life. Then it fades, and I get up, and we all stumble out of the city, still cold and gray, but feeling a little better. Not “good,” exactly, not “happy,” certainly not “alive,” but… a little less dead. This is the best we can do.
I trail behind the group as the city disappears behind us. My steps plod a little heavier than the others’. When I pause at a rain-filled pothole to scrub gore off my face and clothes, M drops back and slaps a hand on my shoulder. He knows my distaste for some of our routines. He knows I’m a little more sensitive than most. Sometimes he teases me, twirls my messy black hair into pigtails and says, “Girl. Such… girl.” But he knows when to take my gloom seriously. He pats my shoulder and just looks at me. His face isn’t capable of much expressive nuance anymore, but I know what he wants to say. I nod, and we keep walking.
I don’t know why we have to kill people. I don’t know what chewing through a man’s neck accomplishes. I steal what he has to replace what I lack. He disappears, and I stay. It’s simple but senseless, arbitrary laws from some lunatic legislator in the sky. But following those laws keeps me walking, so I follow them to the letter. I eat until I stop eating, then I eat again.
...

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书质量不错，应该正品

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好大一本书，是正版!各种不错!只是插图太多，有占篇符之嫌。故事很精彩，女儿很喜欢。书写的不错，能消除人的心瘾。目前已经戒烟第三天了，书拿到手挺有分量的，包装完好。还会继续来，一直就想买这本书，太谢谢京东了，发货神速，两天就到了，超给力的！5分！女性是天生的购物狂，对于购物总是有一些潜藏在体内的欲望，其实女性购物是心理的一定反映，尽管并非所有女性都承认，促使购物欲出现的原因也并非每个女性都一样。西方有句古话：把东西卖给有钱、有势、有需求的人。有趣的是，这里的“人”更适合于指代女人。现代女性普遍经济独立，在家庭购物中大权在握，堪称“有钱有势”。而说到有需求，最近英国一本时尚杂志的调查结果作了最好的注脚——女人每5秒就要想到一次购物，这种痴迷甚至超过了与自己的伴侣相处。当然拉，我这种女性，自然喜欢到网上京东来挑选东西拉。嘻嘻！好了废话不说。我的人生充满坎坷：十岁时家道中落，十二岁便背井离乡，来到一个陌生的、生活条件异常艰苦的藏区当文艺兵。十五岁的花季，爱上一个军官，没有接触的机会，便通过各种暗号和接头地点传递情书，像做地下工作似的，结果得到一个意外收获：“从写情书中发现了自己的文学潜能”。但那个年代早恋是不可饶恕的大错，当我们的恋情被发现时，对方却退缩和背叛了我。一次次当众检查，一次次冷遇羞辱，使我的心灵受到重创，一度产生自杀的念头。二十岁，她弃舞从文，主动请缨，二十九岁进入鲁迅文学院作家班，与莫言、余华、刘震云等一起，登上文学的殿堂。据了解，京东为顾客提供操作规范的逆向物流以及上门取件、代收货款等专业服务。已经开通全国360个大中城市的配送业务，近1000家配送站，并开通了自提点，社区合作、校园合作、便利店合作等形式，可以满足诸多商家以及消费者个性化的配送需求。为了全面满足客户的配送需求，京东商城打造了万人的专业服务团队，拥有四通八达的运输网络、遍布全国的网点覆盖，以及日趋完善的信息系统平台。所以京东的物流我是比较放心的。好了，现在给大家介绍两本好书：一、致我们终将逝去的青春。青春逝去，不必感伤，不必回首。或许他们早该明白，世上已没有了小飞龙，而她奋不顾身爱过的那个清高孤傲的少年，也早已死于从前的青春岁月。现在相对而坐的是郑微和陈孝正，是郑秘书和陈助理是日渐消磨的人间里两个不相干的凡俗男女，犹如一首歌停在了最酣畅的时候，未尝不是好事，而他们太过贪婪固执地以为可以再唱下去才知道后来的曲调是这样不堪。青春就是用来追忆的，所以作者写的故事是来纪念。不是感伤懊悔，而是最好的纪念。道别的何止是最纯真的一段唯美， 而是我曾经无往不胜的天真青春啊。请允许吧，那时的少年，尽情言情。一直言情，不要去打扰他们，他们总有一天会醒来。告别青春，因为青春，终将逝去。陪你梦一场又何妨。二、写不尽的儿女情长，说不完的地老天荒，最恢宏的画卷，最动人的故事，最浩大的恩怨，最纠结的爱恨，尽在桐华《长相思》。推荐1：《长相思》是桐华潜心三年创作的新作，将虐心和争斗写到了极致。全新的人物故事，不变的感动、虐心。推荐2：每个人在爱情中都有或长或短的爱而不得的经历。暗恋是一种爱而不得，失恋是一种爱而不得，正在相恋时，也会爱而不得，有时候，是空间的距离，有时候，却是心灵的距离。纵然两人手拉手，可心若有了距离，依旧是爱而不得。这样的情绪跨越了古今，是一种情感的共鸣。推荐3：唯美装帧，品质超越同类书，超值回馈读者。《长相思》从策划到完成装帧远远领先目前市场上同类书，秉承了桐华一贯出产精品的风格，将唯美精致做到极致，整体装帧精致唯美，绝对值得珍藏。京东有卖。

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发货及物流超快，第二天到货 书的内容很好，就是快递寄到时外面的塑料包装都破损了，幸好书未烂，希望京东在快递上更加强一点，正在阅读中，书不错，是正版，送给老公的。做父亲的应该拜读一下。以后还来买，不错给五分。内容简单好学，无基础的人做入门教材还是很不错的， 配料的讲解很细致，雕塑技法讲解也很细致。 人物雕塑难度不大，也有鲜明的形象个性，但算不上精美。 的确有可学之处，做入门教材还是不错的。我是从2011年8月开始网络购书的，算起来快5年了。师傅是我的女友“好梦”，她是个样样时尚都能搞懂的女子，若干年前我看她拿了一摞书在付款，才知道还有这等方便之事：网上选书，书到付款。于是赶紧回家登录京东书城，挑选，下单。果然，很快书就送到了。从那时起到现在，我不知在京东下了多少订单，四五十次应该有了吧，因为我早已是VIP钻石用户啦。好了，废话不多说。我的人生充满坎坷：十岁时家道中落，十二岁便背井离乡，来到一个陌生的、生活条件异常艰苦的藏区当文艺兵。十五岁的花季，爱上一个军官，没有接触的机会，便通过各种暗号和接头地点传递情书，像做地下工作似的，结果得到一个意外收获：“从写情书中发现了自己的文学潜能”。但那个年代早恋是不可饶恕的大错，当我们的恋情被发现时，对方却退缩和背叛了我。一次次当众检查，一次次冷遇羞辱，使我的心灵受到重创，一度产生自杀的念头。二十岁，她弃舞从文，主动请缨，二十九岁进入鲁迅文学院作家班，与莫言、余华、刘震云等一起，登上文学的殿堂。京东商城图书频道提供丰富的图书产品,种类包括小说、文学、传记、艺术、少儿、经济、管理、生活等图书的网上销售,为您提供最佳的购书体验。网购上京东,省钱又放心!在网上购物，动辄就要十多元的运费，往往是令许多网购消费者和商家踌躇于网购及销售的成本。就在买方卖方都在考虑成本的同时，京东做了一个表率性的举动。只要达到某个会员级别，不分品类实行全场免运费。这是一个太摔的举动了，支持京东。给大家介绍本好书《小时代3.0：刺金时代》内容简介《小时代3.0：刺金时代》是郭敬明的第五部长篇小说，于2007年11月开始在《最小说》上独家连载，获得读者们空前热烈的追捧，各大媒体的相关讨论和争议也层出不穷，一场火爆的《小时代3.0：刺金时代》风潮由此掀起。郭敬明在《小时代3.0：刺金时代》的创作中，又一次展现了对多种文字风格的完美驾驭能力。他以全新的叙事风格和敏感而细微的笔触，将当代青少年、大学生、都市白领的生活和情感故事集中、加工、娓娓道来，从小角度展现了作者对整个社会的观察和思考。这部长篇系列正式开始前，郭敬明曾许诺将要连续创作五年，而在五年终结之际，《小时代3.0：刺金时代》系列将如约迎来它辉煌的谢幕。林萧、简溪、顾源、顾里、南湘、唐宛如……五年间，他们已然成为陪伴读者们度过青春时期的伙伴，他们仿佛活生生地站在读者身边，呼吸着，微笑着，与每一个人共同欢乐，共同哭泣。故事有终结的一天，然而人物却能跃出故事，在读者心中长长久久地鲜活下去，从这个意义上来讲，《小时代3.0：刺金时代》是每一个读者的小时代，它永远也不会完结。

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读书的一大乐趣莫过于当你当你正为一个问题绞尽脑汁，百思不得其解的时候，

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超爱这本书！！！！！！！！！

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相信你一定也能从书中懂得人生的真谛! 读书的感觉真好！朋友，多读书吧!

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希望你能越做越好，成长有你有我大家一起来，很好的宝贝。

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印刷很精美，正版书籍，价格有折扣惠，送货快，买书还来京东。本书不错，很喜欢。