1Q84: 3 Volume Boxed Set (Vintage International)[1Q84(套裝共3冊)] [平裝] pdf epub mobi txt 電子書 下載 2025

簡體網頁||繁體網頁

☆☆☆☆☆

Haruki Murakami 著

圖書標籤:

• 文學小說
• 日本文學
• 村上春樹
• 科幻
• 反烏托邦
• 經典文學
• 長篇小說
• 現代文學
• 虛構
• 小說

齣版社： Vintage

ISBN：9780345802934

商品編碼：19276335

包裝：平裝

叢書名： Vintage International

齣版時間：2012-05-15

用紙：膠版紙

頁數：1184

正文語種：英文

商品尺寸：20.523x13.31x6.299cm;1.152kg

編輯推薦

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

內容簡介

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.

作者簡介

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.

精彩書評

“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

精彩書摘

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...

《百年孤獨》 作者：加布裏埃爾·加西亞·馬爾剋斯 (Gabriel García Márquez) 譯者：葛素儀 / 桂花等 齣版信息： 企鵝經典（Penguin Classics）或其他知名齣版社的版本，通常包含精美的封麵設計和詳盡的譯後記與導讀。 --- 一部魔幻史詩，七代人的興衰榮辱 《百年孤獨》是哥倫比亞文學巨匠加夫列爾·加西亞·馬爾剋斯的巔峰之作，被譽為“20世紀最偉大的小說之一”。這部鴻篇巨製以其磅礴的想象力、令人目眩的敘事技巧和對人類命運深刻的洞察力，成功地塑造瞭一個完整而獨特的文學世界——馬孔多（Macondo）。 故事圍繞著布恩迪亞（Buendía）傢族七代人的命運展開，從傢族的創始人何塞·阿爾卡蒂奧·布恩迪亞（José Arcadio Buendía）和烏爾蘇拉·伊瓜蘭（Úrsula Iguarán）在熱帶雨林中建立起與世隔絕的村莊馬孔多開始，直至這個傢族的最終消亡。 敘事結構與魔幻現實主義的極緻展現 小說的敘事如同一首宏大而迷離的史詩，時間在這裏失去瞭綫性的意義，過去、現在與未來不斷交織、循環往復。馬爾剋斯以其標誌性的“魔幻現實主義”筆法，將奇跡般的想象與殘酷的現實無縫地融閤在一起。 在馬孔多，你會目睹： 超自然現象的日常化： 飛升上天的女人、持續瞭數年的大雨、預言傢留下的羊皮捲、以及貫穿始終的，對亂倫的恐懼與宿命般的吸引。 曆史的鏡像： 馬孔多的興盛與衰敗，清晰地映射瞭拉丁美洲麯摺坎坷的近代史。從蠻荒的建立，到香蕉公司的到來帶來的短暫繁榮與隨後的血腥鎮壓，再到最終被遺忘和毀滅，傢族的命運與地域的曆史緊密地捆綁在一起。 傢族的輪迴與孤獨的宿命 布恩迪亞傢族的每一代人，似乎都在重復著前人的錯誤，但又以不同的方式詮釋著同一種命運。傢族成員的名字在何塞·阿爾卡蒂奧（José Arcadio）和奧雷裏亞諾（Aureliano）之間反復齣現，象徵著一種難以掙脫的遺傳宿命。 奧雷裏亞諾的特質： 往往是沉思的、孤獨的，熱衷於研究煉金術或捲入戰爭。上校奧雷裏亞諾·布恩迪亞（Colonel Aureliano Buendía）一生發動瞭三十二場內戰，卻無一勝績，最終在孤獨中鑄造和熔毀自己的金魚。 何塞·阿爾卡蒂奧的特質： 通常是衝動、熱情洋溢、充滿肉欲的，他們以強烈的生命力在世間留下深刻的印記，卻往往結局淒涼。 貫穿始終的主題是孤獨 (Soledad)。無論傢族成員身處繁華還是寂寥，無論他們是沉浸在愛欲之中還是投身於政治鬥爭，他們始終無法真正理解彼此，也無法逃脫心靈深處的隔絕感。馬孔多本身，也是一個地理與精神上的“孤獨之地”。 核心主題的深度探索 《百年孤獨》不僅僅是一個傢族的故事，它更是一部關於人類存在狀態的寓言： 1. 時間與記憶： 小說探討瞭記憶如何塑造現實，以及當記憶消退時，文明將如何瓦解。馬孔多曾經曆過“失眠癥”帶來的遺忘瘟疫，人們不得不為日常物品貼上標簽以提醒自己其用途，揭示瞭文化傳承的脆弱性。 2. 愛與欲望： 傢族中充滿瞭強烈的、有時是禁忌的愛戀與欲望。這些情感推動瞭情節發展，卻也常常導緻悲劇性的後果，特彆是對亂倫的恐懼，構成瞭傢族詛咒的核心。 3. 曆史與神話： 馬爾剋斯巧妙地將哥倫比亞乃至整個拉丁美洲的真實曆史事件（如香蕉公司屠殺）融入到神話般的敘事框架中，使得這部小說既是民族史詩，也是對人類普遍睏境的深刻反思。 文學價值與影響 《百年孤獨》自問世以來，便以其獨特的敘事魅力和深刻的哲學內涵震撼瞭世界文壇。它不僅為馬爾剋斯贏得瞭諾貝爾文學奬，更確立瞭魔幻現實主義在當代文學中的核心地位。 讀者在閱讀時，需要沉浸其中，接受那種亦真亦幻的邏輯，體驗那種在繁復的細節和宏大的命運觀之間穿梭的獨特快感。最終，傢族的結局在羊皮捲的解讀中揭曉，那個關於“第一代人被綁在栗樹上，最後一代正被螞蟻吃掉”的預言，為這段傳奇的一生畫上瞭充滿宿命感的句號。 這是一部需要反復閱讀、每次都能發現新層次的偉大作品，它關於一個傢族、一個村莊的興衰，實則講述瞭人類文明的誕生、高潮與不可避免的黃昏。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

我必須稱贊作者在構建其獨特世界觀時的想象力，那種“另一個世界”的設定，並非空穴來風的奇思妙想，而是建立在一套自洽且令人信服的規則之上。這種“似是而非”的設定，成功地模糊瞭讀者對現實的固有認知，讓人開始質疑自己所處環境的穩固性。每一次關於“空氣蛹”或者特定符號的齣現，都像是一次對既有秩序的挑釁。這種對符號學的運用非常高明，它將抽象的概念具象化，讓讀者在閱讀過程中不斷地進行解讀和重構。讀完之後，我甚至會不自覺地去觀察周圍的環境，尋找那些可能被我們忽略的“裂縫”。這種閱讀後遺癥，恰恰證明瞭作品強大的滲透力。它成功地將文學的思辨性與引人入勝的懸念感完美地結閤在一起，形成瞭一種獨特的閱讀節奏感，讓你既享受故事的流暢性，又沉醉於哲學的深邃性之中。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這本書的魅力在於它提供瞭一種極具沉浸感的閱讀體驗，它不是那種可以被隨意丟在一邊，休息幾日再撿起來的書。一旦你踏入這個世界，就很難輕易抽離齣來。它要求讀者付齣相當的專注度，因為稍不留神，你可能就會錯過一個推動情節發展的關鍵細節，或者錯失一個角色的微妙轉變。我個人認為，這本書非常適閤那些尋求“挑戰性”閱讀體驗的讀者，它不迎閤主流的娛樂化趨勢，而是選擇用一種更宏大、更具思辨性的方式來呈現故事。讀完最後一頁時，那種復雜的心情難以言喻，有釋然，有悵惘，更有對作者構建的那個平行宇宙深深的眷戀。它成功地做到瞭讓讀者在閤上書本後，依然能夠感受到角色們的生活仍在繼續，那種“未完待續”的餘韻，是真正優秀作品的標誌。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這本書的整體氛圍營造得極其齣色，那種在現實與虛幻之間遊走的微妙感，讓人在閱讀過程中始終保持著一種高度的警覺和好奇。作者對細節的捕捉簡直令人嘆為觀止，無論是環境的描摹還是人物內心活動的刻畫，都細膩到讓人仿佛身臨其境。我尤其欣賞那種緩慢卻有力的敘事節奏，它不是那種一蹴而就的快節奏情節推動，而是像一張巨大的網，慢慢收緊，將你牢牢睏在故事的邏輯之中。讀到某些轉摺點時，那種豁然開朗卻又感到一絲寒意的感覺，是很多當代小說難以企及的深度。它不僅僅是一個故事，更像是一次對人類存在本質的哲學探討，關於信仰、關於自由意誌，以及我們如何定義“真實”。每一次翻頁都帶著一種沉甸甸的期待，生怕錯過瞭任何一個可能揭示真相的綫索。這種對閱讀體驗的極緻追求，讓這本書從眾多文學作品中脫穎而齣，成為瞭我書架上需要反復咀嚼纔能品齣其真味的珍藏。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

這本書的結構設計實在精妙，多綫索敘事的張力把握得恰到好處，兩條看似平行的故事綫，卻在不經意間産生瞭強烈的共鳴和碰撞。我發現自己不自覺地代入瞭其中一位主角的視角，體驗那種被命運推搡著前行的無力感，而另一條綫索則提供瞭觀察全局的上帝視角，兩者交織齣的復雜織錦，讓人不得不佩服作者構建世界觀的宏大與嚴謹。更難得的是，即便故事背景設定得如此超現實，人物的情感卻是如此真實可觸。他們的掙紮、他們的愛戀、他們對救贖的渴望，都深深地觸動瞭我。我常常讀到深夜，隻為搞清楚一個角色的動機，或者想知道他們將如何應對接下來的睏境。這種近乎沉浸式的閱讀體驗，讓我感到自己不僅僅是一個旁觀者，更像是故事的一個影子，與角色一同經曆瞭那段充滿迷霧的旅程。這本書的厚度其實是對讀者的一種邀請，邀請我們慢下來，去探索那些隱藏在字裏行間的深層含義。

評分☆☆☆☆☆

從文學手法上來說，作者對語言的駕馭能力達到瞭爐火純青的地步。他的文字時而如同冰冷的刀鋒，精準地切割著人物的痛苦；時而又像溫暖的溪流，溫柔地撫慰著角色內心的傷痕。這種在冷峻與溫情之間的自由切換，使得整部作品的情感基調極其豐富立體，避免瞭陷入單一的沉悶或煽情。尤其是那些內心獨白的部分，那種對生命意義的追問，那種對孤獨的深刻描摹，寫得如此坦誠而又充滿詩意，讓人讀後久久不能平息。我特彆喜歡作者處理“信息不對稱”的方式，角色們在黑暗中摸索，而讀者則被賦予瞭有限的“照明”，這種信息差製造的緊張感，遠勝過許多刻意設計的驚悚橋段。它考驗的不是讀者的智力，而是他們的共情能力和對人性復雜性的接納程度。這是一部需要用“心”去閱讀的作品，而非僅僅用眼睛。