No Country for Old Men (Vintage International)[老無所依(電影版)] [平裝] pdf epub mobi txt 電子書 下載 2025

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☆☆☆☆☆

Cormac McCarthy 著

圖書標籤:

• 犯罪小說
• 西部小說
• 懸疑
• 驚悚
• 美國文學
• 科恩兄弟
• 普利策獲奬作品
• 黑色電影
• 現代文學
• 小說

齣版社： Vintage Books USA

ISBN：9780307387134

版次：1

商品編碼：19045229

包裝：平裝

叢書名： Vintage International

齣版時間：2007-10-09

用紙：膠版紙

頁數：320

正文語種：英文

商品尺寸：12.95x1.78x20.32cm

內容簡介

In No Country for Old Men, Cormac McCarthy simultaneously strips down the American crime novel and broadens its concerns to encompass themes as ancient as the Bible and as bloodily contemporary as this morning’s headlines.

作者簡介

Cormac McCarthy was born in Rhode Island. He later went to Chicago, where he worked as an auto mechanic while writing his first novel, The Orchard Keeper. The Orchard Keeper was published by Random House in 1965; McCarthy's editor there was Albert Erskine, William Faulkner's long-time editor. Before publication, McCarthy received a traveling fellowship from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, which he used to travel to Ireland. In 1966 he also received the Rockefeller Foundation Grant, with which he continued to tour Europe, settling on the island of Ibiza. Here, McCarthy completed revisions of his next novel, Outer Dark. In 1967, McCarthy returned to the United States, moving to Tennessee. Outer Dark was published by Random House in 1968, and McCarthy received the Guggenheim Fellowship for Creative Writing in 1969. His next novel, Child of God, was published in 1973. From 1974 to 1975, McCarthy worked on the screenplay for a PBS film called The Gardener's Son, which premiered in 1977. A revised version of the screenplay was later published by Ecco Press. In the late 1970s, McCarthy moved to Texas, and in 1979 published his fourth novel, Suttree, a book that had occupied his writing life on and off for twenty years. He received a MacArthur Fellowship in 1981, and published his fifth novel, Blood Meridian, in 1985. All the Pretty Horses, the first volume of The Border Trilogy, was published by Knopf in 1992. It won both the National Book Award and the National Book Critics Circle Award and was later turned into a feature film. The Stonemason, a play that McCarthy had written in the mid-1970s and subsequently revised, was published by Ecco Press in 1994. Soon thereafter, Knopf released the second volume of The Border Trilogy, The Crossing; the third volume, Cities of the Plain, was published in 1998.McCarthy's next novel, No Country for Old Men was published in 2005. This was followed in 2006 by a novel in dramatic form, The Sunset Limited, originally performed by Steppenwolf Theatre Company of Chicago and published in paperback by Vintage Books. McCarthy's most recent novel, The Road, was published in 2006 and won the Pulitzer Prize.

精彩書評

Seven years after Cities of the Plain brought his acclaimed Border Trilogy to a close, McCarthy returns with a mesmerizing modern-day western. In 1980 southwest Texas, Llewelyn Moss, hunting antelope near the Rio Grande, stumbles across several dead men, a bunch of heroin and $2.4 million in cash. The bulk of the novel is a gripping man-on-the-run sequence relayed in terse, masterful prose as Moss, who's taken the money, tries to evade Wells, an ex–Special Forces agent employed by a powerful cartel, and Chigurh, an icy psychopathic murderer armed with a cattle gun and a dangerous philosophy of justice. Also concerned about Moss's whereabouts is Sheriff Bell, an aging lawman struggling with his sense that there's a new breed of man (embodied in Chigurh) whose destructive power he simply cannot match. In a series of thoughtful first-person passages interspersed throughout, Sheriff Bell laments the changing world, wrestles with an uncomfortable memory from his service in WWII and—a soft ray of light in a book so steeped in bloodshed—rejoices in the great good fortune of his marriage. While the action of the novel thrills, it's the sensitivity and wisdom of Sheriff Bell that makes the book a profound meditation on the battle between good and evil and the roles choice and chance play in the shaping of a life.
--Starred Review

McCarthy’s Border Trilogy, distinguished by the award-winning All the Pretty Horses (1992), contains dark Westerns set against beautiful, bleak landscapes. His newest novel updates his character-driven plots and themes of violence and moral ambiguity. Perhaps the true sign of a master is one whose work raises debate—and this is what No Country has done. Most critics praised McCarthy’s clean, simple prose, though a few thought it too spare for such a graceful stylist. ("The man looked at Chigurh’s eyes for the first time. Blue as lapis. At once glistening and opaque. Like wet stones.") Compelling characters (even women) abound, but Sheriff Bell came off as either smart or too long winded. Finally, the violence seemed gratuitous to some. Even if No Country may be a more minor McCarthy novel, it’s still a terrifying page-turner in the vein of the Trilogy.
--Bookmarks Magazine

精彩書摘

I
I sent one boy to the gaschamber at Huntsville. One and only one. My arrest and my testimony. I went up there and visited with him two or three times. Three times. The last time was the day of his execution. I didnt have to go but I did. I sure didnt want to. He’d killed a fourteen year old girl and I can tell you right now I never did have no great desire to visit with him let alone go to his execution but I done it. The papers said it was a crime of passion and he told me there wasnt no passion to it. He’d been datin this girl, young as she was. He was nineteen. And he told me that he had been plannin to kill somebody for about as long as he could remember. Said that if they turned him out he’d do it again. Said he knew he was goin to hell. Told it to me out of his own mouth. I dont know what to make of that. I surely dont. I thought I’d never seen a person like that and it got me to wonderin if maybe he was some new kind. I watched them strap him into the seat and shut the door. He might of looked a bit nervous about it but that was about all. I really believe that he knew he was goin to be in hell in fifteen minutes. I believe that. And I’ve thought about that a lot. He was not hard to talk to. Called me Sheriff. But I didnt know what to say to him. What do you say to a man that by his own admission has no soul? Why would you say anything? I’ve thought about it a good deal. But he wasnt nothin compared to what was comin down the pike.
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. I dont know what them eyes was the windows to and I guess I’d as soon not know. But there is another view of the world out there and other eyes to see it and that’s where this is goin. It has done brought me to a place in my life I would not of thought I’d of come to. Somewhere out there is a true and living prophet of destruction and I dont want to confront him. I know he’s real. I have seen his work. I walked in front of those eyes once. I wont do it again. I wont push my chips forward and stand up and go out to meet him. It aint just bein older. I wish that it was. I cant say that it’s even what you are willin to do. Because I always knew that you had to be willin to die to even do this job. That was always true. Not to sound glorious about it or nothin but you do. If you aint they’ll know it. They’ll see it in a heartbeat. I think it is more like what you are willin to become. And I think a man would have to put his soul at hazard. And I wont do that. I think now that maybe I never would.
The deputy left Chigurh standing in the corner of the office with his hands cuffed behind him while he sat in the swivelchair and took off his hat and put his feet up and called Lamar on the mobile.
Just walked in the door. Sheriff he had some sort of thing on him like one of them oxygen tanks for emphysema or whatever. Then he had a hose that run down the inside of his sleeve and went to one of them stunguns like they use at the slaughterhouse. Yessir. Well that’s what it looks like. You can see it when you get in. Yessir. I got it covered. Yessir.
When he stood up out of the chair he swung the keys off his belt and opened the locked desk drawer to get the keys to the jail. He was slightly bent over when Chigurh squatted and scooted his manacled hands beneath him to the back of his knees. In the same motion he sat and rocked backward and passed the chain under his feet and then stood instantly and effortlessly. If it looked like a thing he’d practiced many times it was. He dropped his cuffed hands over the deputy’s head and leaped into the air and slammed both knees against the back of the deputy’s neck and hauled back on the chain.
They went to the floor. The deputy was trying to get his hands inside the chain but he could not. Chigurh lay there pulling back on the bracelets with his knees between his arms and his face averted. The deputy was flailing wildly and he’d begun to walk sideways over the floor in a circle, kicking over the wastebasket, kicking the chair across the room. He kicked shut the door and he wrapped the throwrug in a wad about them. He was gurgling and bleeding from the mouth. He was strangling on his own blood. Chigurh only hauled the harder. The nickelplated cuffs bit to the bone. The deputy’s right carotid artery burst and a jet of blood shot across the room and hit the wall and ran down it. The deputy’s legs slowed and then stopped. He lay jerking. Then he stopped moving altogether. Chigurh lay breathing quietly, holding him. When he got up he took the keys from the deputy’s belt and released himself and put the deputy’s revolver in the waistband of his trousers and went into the bathroom.
He ran cold water over his wrists until they stopped bleeding and he tore strips from a handtowel with his teeth and wrapped his wrists and went back into the office. He sat on the desk and fastened the toweling with tape from a dispenser, studying the dead man gaping up from the floor. When he was done he got the deputy’s wallet out of his pocket and took the money and put it in the pocket of his shirt and dropped the wallet to the floor. Then he picked up his airtank and the stungun and walked out the door and got into the deputy’s car and started the engine and backed around and pulled out and headed up the road.
On the interstate he picked out a late model Ford sedan with a single driver and turned on the lights and hit the siren briefly. The car pulled onto the shoulder. Chigurh pulled in behind him and shut off the engine and slung the tank across his shoulder and stepped out. The man was watching him in the rearview mirror as he walked up.
What’s the problem, officer? he said.
Sir would you mind stepping out of the vehicle?
The man opened the door and stepped out. What’s this about? he said.
Would you step away from the vehicle please.
The man stepped away from the vehicle. Chigurh could see the doubt come into his eyes at this bloodstained figure before him but it came too late. He placed his hand on the man’s head like a faith healer. The pneumatic hiss and click of the plunger sounded like a door closing. The man slid soundlessly to the ground, a round hole in his forehead from which the blood bubbled and ran down into his eyes carrying with it his slowly uncoupling world visible to see. Chigurh wiped his hand with his handkerchief. I just didnt want you to get blood on the car, he said.
Moss sat with the heels of his boots dug into the volcanic gravel of the ridge and glassed the desert below him with a pair of twelve power german binoculars. His hat pushed back on his head. Elbows propped on his knees. The rifle strapped over his shoulder with a harnessleather sling was a heavybarreled .270 on a ’98 Mauser action with a laminated stock of maple and walnut. It carried a Unertl telescopic sight of the same power as the binoculars. The antelope were a little under a mile away. The sun was up less than an hour and the shadow of the ridge and the datilla and the rocks fell far out across the floodplain below him. Somewhere out there was the shadow of Moss himself. He lowered the binoculars and sat studying the land. Far to the south the raw mountains of Mexico. The breaks of the river. To the west the baked terracotta terrain of the run- ning borderlands. He spat dryly and wiped his mouth on the shoulder of his cotton workshirt.
The rifle would shoot half minute of angle groups. Five inch groups at one thousand yards. The spot he’d picked to shoot from lay just below a long talus of lava scree and it would put him well within that distance. Except that it would take the better part of an hour to get there and the antelope were grazing away from him. The best he could say about any of it was that there was no wind.
When he got to the foot of the talus he raised himself slowly and looked for the antelope. They’d not moved far from where he last saw them but the shot was still a good seven hundred yards. He studied the animals through the binoculars. In the compressed air motes and heat distortion. A low haze of shimmering dust and pollen. There was no other cover and there wasnt going to be any other shot.
He wallowed down in the scree and pulled off one boot and laid it over the rocks and lowered the forearm of the rifle down into the leather and pushed off the safety with his thumb and sighted through the scope.
They stood with their heads up, all of them, looking at him.
Damn, he whispered. The sun was behind him so they couldnt very well have seen light reflect off the glass of the scope. They had just flat seen him.
The rifle had a Canjar trigger set to nine ounces and he pulled the rifle and the boot toward him with great care and sighted again and jacked the crosshairs slightly up the back of the animal standing most broadly to him. He knew the exact drop of the bullet in hundred yard increments. It was the distance that was uncertain. He laid his finger in the curve of the trigger. The boar’s tooth he wore on a gold chain spooled onto the rocks inside his elbow.

評分☆☆☆☆☆

電影縮短版，但是經典。

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不知道是不會是英語小說都是這麼貴

評分☆☆☆☆☆

不知道是不是正品，這麼貴

評分☆☆☆☆☆

挺不錯的，可以推薦購買

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以為是個精裝版，誰知效果也不好

評分☆☆☆☆☆

經典的一本書，很好哦

評分☆☆☆☆☆

經典的一本書，很好哦

評分☆☆☆☆☆

不知道是不會是英語小說都是這麼貴

評分☆☆☆☆☆

非常好啊 積纍知識，勝過積蓄金銀。（歐洲諺語） 謙虛是學習的朋友 泰山不是壘的，學問不是吹的。天不言自高，地不語自厚。 水滿則溢，月滿則虧；自滿則敗，自矜則愚。 包子有肉，不在皮上；人有學問，不掛嘴上。 不實心不成事，不虛心不知事。不自是者博聞，不自滿者受益。 虛心的人，常想己之短；驕傲的人，常誇己之長。 自贊就是自輕。自滿是智慧的盡頭。 如果有瞭鬍子就算學識淵博，那麼，山羊也可以講課瞭。 成就是謙虛者前進的階梯，也是驕傲者後退的滑梯。 吹噓自己有知識的人，等於在宣揚自己的無知。 言過其實，終無大用。知識愈淺，自信愈深。 訥訥寡言者未必愚，喋喋利口者未必智。 寬闊的河平靜，博學的人謙虛。秀纔不怕衣衫破，就怕肚子沒有貨。 山不厭高，水不厭深。驕傲是跌跤的前奏。 讀萬捲書行萬裏路，懷報國誌作孺子牛。 驕傲來自淺薄，狂妄齣於無知。驕傲是失敗的開頭，自滿是智慧的盡頭。 說大話的人像爆竹，響一聲就完瞭。鑒唯明，始能照物；衡唯平，始能權物。 謙虛是學習的朋友，自滿是學習的敵人。 趕腳的對頭是腳懶，學習的對頭是自滿。 虛心使人進步，驕傲使人落後。虛心的人學十算一，驕傲的人學一當十。 強中更有強中手，莫嚮人前自誇口。 喜歡吹噓的人猶如一麵大鼓，響聲大腹中空。 人唯虛，始能知人。滿招損，謙受益。滿必溢，驕必敗。 知識貯藏在謙虛的大海中。（朝鮮諺語） 學問多深也彆滿足，過失多小也彆忽略。（濛古諺語） 懂得自己無知，說明已有收獲。（拉丁美洲諺語） 學問學問，不懂就問 刀鈍石上磨，人笨人前學。以人為師能進步。 試試並非受罪，問問並不吃虧。善於發問的人，知識豐富。 不聽指點，多繞彎彎。不懂裝懂，永世飯桶。 智者韆慮，必有一失；愚者韆慮，必有一得。 不能則學，不知則問，恥於問人，決無長進。 學問淵博的人，懂瞭還要問；學問淺薄的人，不懂也不問。 井淘三遍吃好水，人從三師武藝高。 手指有長有短，知識有高有低。學無前後，達者為師。 邊學邊問，纔有學問。若要精，人前聽。 隻要是有益的話，小孩的話也要聽。 要學蜜蜂采百花，問遍百傢成行傢。 老薑辣味大，老人經驗多。請教彆人不摺本，舌頭打個滾。 怕問路，要迷路。嘴勤不走冤枉路。 不問的人永遠和愚昧在一起。（東非諺語） 耳朵沒有底，可以從早聽到晚。（非洲諺語） 世上無難事，隻要肯登攀。——毛澤東 一分耕耘，一分收獲。一藝之成，當盡畢生之力。 一個不想蹚過小河的人，自然不想遠涉重洋。針越用越明，腦越用越靈。 學在苦中求，藝在勤中練。不怕學問淺，就怕誌氣短。 纔華是血汗的結晶。纔華是刀刃，辛苦是磨刀石。 上如階盡管費力，卻一步比一步高。不經過琢磨，寶石也不會發光。 心專纔能綉得花，心靜纔能織得麻。書山有路勤為徑，學海無涯苦作舟。 日日行，不怕韆萬裏；時時學，不怕韆萬捲。多練多乖，不練就呆。 隻有努力攀登頂峰的人，纔能把頂峰踩在腳下。睏難是人的教科書。 汗水和豐收是忠實的夥伴，勤學和知識是一對最美麗的情侶。 學習如鑽探石油，鑽得愈深，愈能找到知識的精髓。先學爬，然後學走。 心堅石也穿。好記性不如爛筆頭。勤勉是成功之母。 好高騖遠的一無所得，埋頭苦乾的獲得知識。百藝通，不如一藝精。 同時趕兩隻兔，一隻也捉不到。一迴生，二迴熟，三迴過來當師傅。 學如逆水行舟，不進則退。學習如趕路，不能慢一步。 學問之根苦，學問之果甜。學問勤中得，富裕儉中來。 注意力是智慧的門戶。要得驚人藝，須下苦功夫。 隻要功夫深，鐵杵磨成綉花針。拳不離手，麯不離口。 常說口裏順，常做手不笨。最淡的墨水，也勝過最強的記性。 搓繩不能鬆勁，前進不能停頓。瞄準還不是射中，起跑還不算到達。 沒有艱苦的學習，就沒有最簡單的發明。（南斯拉夫諺語） 誰遊樂無度，誰沒空學習。（法國諺語） 誰要懂得多，就要睡得少。（亞美尼亞諺語） 知識好像砂石下麵的泉水，越掘得深泉水越清。（丹麥諺語） 知識需要反復探索，土地需要辛勤耕耘。（尼泊爾諺語） 學如駕車登山，不進就退。（日本諺語） 讀瞭懂不瞭，用處也不大