رمان کتاب مقدس کودکان | A Children’s Bible

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کتاب مقدس کودکان یک رمان داستانی مربوط به آب و هواست که ۱۳ همین رمان این نویسنده بزرگ است.و تجربه گروهی از کودکان را در مقابل تغییرات آب و هوایی مستند می کند، زیرا که والدین آنه نمی توانند با طوفان ناشی از تغیرات آب و هوا مقابله کنند.

A Children’s Bible: A Novel

معرفی و دانلود کتاب رمان انگلیسی

کتاب مقدس کودکان : یک رمان

 

نویسنده:

 

لیدیا میلت

Lydia Millet

سال انتشار:

۲۰۲۰


معرفی و دانلود کتاب|A Children's Bible|رمان انگلیسی سال 2020


درباره رمان انگلیسی A Children’s Bible نوشته Lydia Millet :

 

رمانی بیاد ماندنی از بیگانگی نوجوانان و خودخواهی بزرگسالان در دنیایی که در حال از هم گسستن است.
رمانی جدید و برین از نامزد نهایی جایزه پولیتزر ، لیدیا میلت!
اولین رمان او پس از کتاب ” بره شیرین بهشت ” که در لیست بلند جایزه کتاب ملی قرار دارد.

 

خلاصه داستان انگلیسی  A Children’s Bible :

کتاب مقدس کودکان یک رمان داستانی مربوط به آب و هواست که ۱۳ همین رمان این نویسنده بزرگ است.و تجربه گروهی از کودکان را در مقابل تغییرات آب و هوایی مستند می کند، زیرا که والدین آنه نمی توانند با طوفان ناشی از تغیرات آب و هوا مقابله کنند.
داستان گروهی متشکل از دوازده کودک کاملا بالغ  در حال سپری کردن تعطیلات اجباری در یک عمارت بزرگ و گسترده در کنار رودخانه به همراه خانواده هایشان را روایت میکند.
کودکانی که بخاطر تحقیر توسط والدینشان که اغلب روزهای خود را با مشروبات الکلی ، مواد مخدر و رابطه جنسی سپری میکنند ، احساس نادیده گرفته شدن و خفقان می کنند.
هنگامی که طوفانی ویرانگر بر املاک تابستانی نزول پیدا میکند ، سران گروه تصمیم به فرار میگیرند ( از جمله حوا که راوی داستان است) و طی یک یورش خطرناک، افراد جوان را به سمت هرج و مرج فاجعه بار بیرون سوق میدهند.
همانطور که صحنه های ویرانی شروع به تقلید از کتاب انجیل تصویری کودکانه در دست برادر حوا می کند ، او خود را کاملا وقف مراقبت از او در مقابل آسیب می کند.
کتاب مقدس کودکان ” یک داستان پیشگویانه و دلخراش از جدایی نسل ها و یک تصویر فراموش نشدنی از آنچه که در آن طرف افشاگری در انتظار ماست.


جوایز و افتخارات کتاب رمان انگلیسی

A Children’s Bible :

نامزد نهایی جایزه ملی کتاب داستان در سال ۲۰۲۰

یکی از ده کتاب برتر سال از نظر نشریه نیویورک تایمز

یکی از بهترین رمان های سال از نظر نشریات تایمز ، واشنگتن پست ، ان پی آر ، شیگاگو تریبون ، اسکوایر ، بی بی سی و بسیاری دیگر

پرفروش ترین کتاب ملی


داستان های انگلیسی مناسب کودک و نوجوان


توضیحات رمان انگلیسی A Children’s Bible نوشته Lydia Millet :

 

Finalist for the 2020 National Book Award for Fiction
One of the New York Times‘ Ten Best Books of the Year
Named one of the best novels of the year by Time, Washington Post, NPR, Chicago Tribune, Esquire, BBC, and many others
National Bestseller

An indelible novel of teenage alienation and adult complacency in an unraveling world.

Pulitzer Prize finalist Lydia Millet’s sublime new novel―her first since the National Book Award long-listed Sweet Lamb of Heaven―follows a group of twelve eerily mature children on a forced vacation with their families at a sprawling lakeside mansion.

Contemptuous of their parents, who pass their days in a stupor of liquor, drugs, and sex, the children feel neglected and suffocated at the same time. When a destructive storm descends on the summer estate, the group’s ringleaders―including Eve, who narrates the story―decide to run away, leading the younger ones on a dangerous foray into the apocalyptic chaos outside.

As the scenes of devastation begin to mimic events in the dog-eared picture Bible carried around by her beloved little brother, Eve devotes herself to keeping him safe from harm.

A Children’s Bible is a prophetic, heartbreaking story of generational divide―and a haunting vision of what awaits us on the far side of Revelation.


برای اطلاع از کتاب های جدید و سفارش کتاب 

لطفا اینستاگرام ما را دنبال کنید


جملاتی از متن رمان انگلیسی A Children’s Bible نوشته Lydia Millet :

 

A Children’s Bible Quotes

“A FEW PETS had come with us for the summer: three dogs and a cat, a pissed-off Siamese with a skin condition. Dandruff. We dressed up the dogs in costumes from a wicker chest, but could not dress the cat. She scratched.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible

“Molecules never die, I thought. Hadn’t they told us that in chemistry? Hadn’t they said a molecule of Julius Caesar’s dying breath was, statistically speaking, in every breath we took? Same with Lincoln. Or our grandparents. Molecules exchanging and mingling, on and on. Particles that had once been others and now moved through us. “Evie!” said Jack. “Look! I found a sand dollar!” That was the sad thing about my molecules: they wouldn’t remember him.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible
“Once we lived in a summer country.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible

“We put the dogs in a play and invited the parents, since there was no one else to be an audience. But the pets were poorly trained and failed to take direction. There were two soldiers and a fancy lady we’d dressed in a frilly padded bra. The soldiers were cowards. Deserters, basically. They ran away when we issued the battle cry. (A blaring klaxon. It went hoh-onk.) The lady urinated. “Oh, poor old thing, she has a nervous bladder!” exclaimed someone’s chubby mother. “Is that a Persian rug?” Whose mother was it? Unclear. No one would cop to it, of course. We canceled the performance. “Admit it, that was your mother,” said a kid named Rafe to a kid named Sukey, when the parents had filed out. Some of their goblets, highball glasses, and beer bottles were completely empty. Drained. Those parents were in a hurry, then. “No way,” said Sukey firmly, and shook her head. “Then who is your mother? The one with the big ass? Or the one with the clubfoot?” “Neither,” said Sukey. “So fuck you.” THE GREAT HOUSE had been built by robber barons in the nineteenth century, a palatial retreat for the green months. Our parents, those so-called figures of authority, roamed its rooms in vague circuits beneath the broad beams, their objectives murky. And of no general interest.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible

“They liked to drink: it was their hobby, or—said one of us—maybe a form of worship. They drank wine and beer and whiskey and gin. Also tequila, rum, and vodka. At midday they called it the hair of the dog. It seemed to keep them contented. Or going, at least. In the evenings they assembled to eat food and drink more. Dinner was the only meal we had to attend, and even that we resented. They sat us down and talked about nothing. They aimed their conversation like a dull gray beam. It hit us and lulled us into a stupor. What they said was so boring it filled us with frustration, and after more minutes, rage. Didn’t they know there were urgent subjects? Questions that needed to be asked? If one of us said something serious, they dismissed it. MayIpleasebeexcused. Later the talk grew louder. Freed of our influence, some of them emitted sudden, harsh barks.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible

“They liked to drink: it was their hobby, or—said one of us—maybe a form of worship. They drank wine and beer and whiskey and gin. Also tequila, rum, and vodka. At midday they called it the hair of the dog. It seemed to keep them contented. Or going, at least. In the evenings they assembled to eat food and drink more. Dinner was the only meal we had to attend, and even that we resented. They sat us down and talked about nothing. They aimed their conversation like a dull gray beam. It hit us and lulled us into a stupor. What they said was so boring it filled us with frustration, and after more minutes, rage. Didn’t they know there were urgent subjects? Questions that needed to be asked? If one of us said something serious, they dismissed it. MayIpleasebeexcused. Later the talk grew louder. Freed of our influence, some of them emitted sudden, harsh barks.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible

 


“Hey!” It was Sukey, at the base of the tree. Others. Umbrellas and hooded ponchos and raincoats. Upturned faces. Rafe, Terry, Dee, Low, Juicy. “We’re moving out here!” shouted Sukey. “You don’t want to,” I called down. “It’s cold and wet!” “Don’t care!” yelled Low. “It’s vile in there!” THEY STRAPPED UP the tarps from the beach to extend our roof cover. They found a stash of paint-spattered groundsheets and swarmed over the canopy, lashing the bright-blue vinyl to the treehouse posts. They stretched them between platforms, over nets and ladders. I felt restless. If they didn’t want to go back to the house, whatever, but I did. I wanted the fireplace and the cabinets packed with snack cakes and miniature powdered donuts. The indoor plumbing. I asked Dee, then Terry, then Rafe what the deal was, but they refused to talk about it. It was only when Sukey finished setting up her sleeping bag, weighing it down with rocks, that I got a straight answer: during the night the older generation had dosed itself with Ecstasy. No one knew if it had been a plan or covert action, but they’d promptly ascended new heights of repulsive. It was true Juicy and Terry had watched them fool around from behind slatted doors at the beginning—even Low had done it. Out of a sense of desperate boredom, soon after the phones were taken away. Also vengeance. And scorn. Now they regretted it. Maybe they’d had had stronger stomachs, back then. “Plus that was just like, normal old-people sex,” said Juicy. “How would you know?” said Rafe. “Like, couples,” said Juicy. “This is . . . like, everything.” “They’re walking around butt naked,” said Low. “I saw two fathers and Dee’s mother in a three—” started Juicy.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“HIDING OUR PARENTAGE was a leisure pursuit, but one we took seriously. Sometimes a parent would edge near, threatening to expose us. Risking the revelation of a family bond. Then we ran like rabbits. We had to hide the running, though, in case our haste betrayed us, so truer to say we slipped out quietly. When one of my parents appeared, my technique was: pretend to catch sight of someone in the next room. Move in a natural manner toward this figment of my imagination, making a purposeful face. Go through the door. And fade away.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“It was them and not them, maybe the ones they’d never been. I could almost see those others standing in the garden where the pea plants were, feet planted between the rows. They stood without moving, their faces glowing with some shine a long time gone. A time before I lived. Their arms hung at their sides. They’d always been there, I thought blearily, and they’d always wanted to be more than they were. They should always be thought of as invalids, I saw. Each person, fully grown, was sick or sad, with problems attached to them like broken limbs. Each one had special needs. If you could remember that, it made you less angry. They’d been carried along on their hopes, held up by the chance of a windfall. But instead of a windfall there was only time passing. And all they ever were was themselves. Still they had wanted to be different. I would assume that from now on, I told myself, wandering back into the barn. What people wanted to be, but never could, traveled along beside them. Company.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“BY LUNCHTIME ON day three we had a food shortage. Someone had left the largest cooler open and gulls perched on the edges, ripping at bread bags with their powerful beaks. Fragments of fruit and cheese littered the sand, and soon even those had been snatched—the gulls were nothing like deer. They didn’t scatter when we yelled, or if they did, it was mostly for show. They came right back. They got up in our grills, pecking. Gobbling. So we gave up. I felt bitter about a packet of cookies I’d been saving.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“We hid under our covers, blankets pulled over our heads, and some of us yelled rudely. The parents retreated, possibly offended. A sign went up on the door, PARENT FREE ZONE, and we spoke to them sternly in the morning. “You have the run of the mansion,” said Terry, calmly but forcefully. “Your own private bedrooms. Your own private attached baths.” He wore glasses and was squat and very pretentious. Still, he looked commanding as he stood there, his short arms crossed, at the head of the table. The parents sipped their coffee. It made sucking noises. “We have one room. For all of us. One single room!” intoned Terry. “For pity’s sake. Give us our blessed space. In that minuscule scrap of territory. Think of the attic as a reservation. Imagine you’re the white conquerors who brutally massacred our people. And we’re the Indians.” “Native Americans,” said a mother. “Insensitive metaphor,” said another. “Culturally.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


 

“Handle it how?” asked a third mother. “Amazon Prime?” “We’ll handle it,” repeated Terry. “There are tarps in the toolshed. We’ll be fine.” JEN, IMPRESSED BY Terry’s masterful attitude, consented to hook up with him in the greenhouse that evening (we’d piled a nest of blankets in a corner). Jen was strong but had notoriously low standards, make-out-wise. Not to be outdone, the other two girls and I agreed to play Spin the Bottle with David and Low. Extreme version, oral potentially included. Juicy was fourteen, too immature for us and too much of a slob, and Rafe wasn’t bi. Shame, said Sukey. Rafe is hella good-looking. Then Dee said she wouldn’t play, so it was down to Sukey and me. Dee was afraid of Spin the Bottle, due to being—Sukey alleged—a quiet little mouse and most likely even a mouth virgin. Timid and shy, Dee was also passive-aggressive, neurotic, a germaphobe, and borderline paranoid. According to Sukey. “Suck it up, mousy,” said Sukey. “It’s a teachable moment.” “Why teachable?” asked Dee. Because, said Sukey, she, yours truly, was a master of the one-minute handjob. Dee could pick up some tips. The guys sat straighter when Sukey said that. Their interest became focused and laser-like. But Dee said no, she wasn’t that type. Plus, after this she needed a shower. Val also declined to participate. She left to go climbing in the dark. This was while the parents were playing Texas Hold ’Em and squabbling over alleged card counting—someone’s father had been kicked out of a casino in Las Vegas. The younger kids were fast asleep.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“Let’s draw straws,” said David. We used dune grass. We didn’t pull it out—Jack warned us not to hurt the plants—but snipped it neatly with a penknife. The shortest blades went to Terry and Rafe,”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“Destined to die without issue,” added Terry, who fancied himself a wordsmith. His real name was Something the Third. As if that wasn’t bad enough, “the Third” translated to “Tertius” in Latin. Then “Tertius” shortened to “Terry.” So obviously that was what they called him. He kept a private journal in which his feelings were recorded, possibly. The possibility was widely mocked.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“Supposed to leave yesterday,” said Tess, chewing. “But James talked them into staying. For some reason.” Sukey and Jen looked at each other. Sukey took a swig from her can, extended one of her long legs, pointed the toes, turned the foot this way and that. Jen grabbed a shrimp from Tess’s cup and popped it in her mouth. I stared at the shrimps’ little black eyeballs on their stalks. “Watch. They’ll be fighting over who gets to hook up with that Aryan douchebag,” said Low, as he and I walked away.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“When push came to shove, the yacht kids were just too WASP for him. He was a jewel of Kazakh youth, he liked to say—studied history so he could boast about Mongolian hordes. He’d mailed a cheek swab to some genetic-testing service, and the results suggested he was Genghis Khan’s nephew. Some generations removed. But basically, yeah, he said.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“I saw them too,” said Low. “She had her hand right on his pants. The package. Right on there. Guy had a raging boner.” “Gross,” said Juicy. He spat. “Goddammit, Juice. You almost hit my toe,” said Low. “Demerit.” “Your fault for wearing sandals,” said Juicy. “Mega lame. A demerit to you.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“When we pushed away from the moorings various parents waved from the porch and others clustered on the dock. We rushed, worried that they’d betray us with last-minute asinine chitchat. Sure enough, one dimwit yelled: “Did you remember your inhaler?” (Two of us were asthmatics.) “Shut up! Shut up!” we implored, hands over ears. None of us wanted to see a man go down that way. “And what about the EpiPens?” shouted the low-status mother.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“The ocean breeze blew her flimsy gown against her body. Hip bones jutted out on either side of her concave stomach. I’d once seen a picture of sacred cows on the Ganges. Starving. “What’s with the outfit?” I asked. “No time to change,” she said. “Had to make a quick getaway.” She kicked the pumps off, pulled the dress over her head. There she stood in a lacy bra and butt-floss thong. Some yacht dads gazed our way. “Evie!” stage-whispered Jack to me. “She’s naked!” “Listen, kid,” said Alycia. “What was your name again?” “Jack?” said Jack. “Right, right. Well, Jack, I can show you naked if you want. But this isn’t it. See this piece of fabric? They call it underwear.” “But I can see your regina.” “Jack, it’s your lucky day.” She turned from us, splashed through the shallows, and dove. Graceful as a dolphin. The yacht dads rubbernecked. She front-crawled out past the breakers. “Why is my day lucky?” asked Jack. I tousled his hair.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“Dragonflies dipped over the surface, brilliant tiny helicopters of green and blue. “They live ninety-five percent of their lives underwater,” said Jack helpfully. He was an insect fan. A fan of all wildlife, in fact. “In nymph form. You know, larvae. Dragonfly nymphs have big huge jaws. They’re vicious predators.” “Is that interesting?” asked Jen, cocking her head. Not mean, just speculative. She hadn’t decided.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“I’d just turned back to window-covering when a hand landed on my shoulder. Alycia’s father, the one with the goatee and Tinder date. “Uh—Edie, is it?” “Eve.” Their family clearly had trouble with names. “Eva. Do you know where my daughter is?” Damn. Why me? I’d tell him about the yacht, I decided. But would I tell him about possible difficulties with its navigation? I didn’t want to implicate David. And yet. I stood there with the hammer. It felt heavy. “She didn’t choose to come back with us,” I said. His mouth hung slightly open. “I’m sorry. You mean she’s still down there? All by herself? On the beach?” Beside me, Sukey stopped hammering also. “She sailed for Newport,” said Sukey, blunt as always. “On a yacht called the Cobra. Owned by a venture capitalist.” “Ha ha! No seriously,” said the goatee father. “Seriously,” said Sukey. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” “Nope,” said Sukey, and went back to hammering. When the father turned away he seemed stunned. Then the gynecologist mother came down the steps from the breakfast room. “They’re saying it’s a Cat 4. Winds up to 140!” “All this hysteria’s for nothing,” said the short father. (Low’s, I recalled with a surge of satisfaction.) He was holding a beer bottle. Hadn’t lifted a finger to help cover the windows, just watched and critiqued. “You’ll see.” Another mother stuck her head out the door. “Hey. Where’s Alycia?” Not again. I sighed. “On a yacht headed for Rhode Island,” I said. “They’ve got excellent food on that boat,” piped up Dee. “The chef used to work at Chez Panisse.” I opted not to look at the mother’s face right then. Everyone knew Alycia didn’t eat.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“I SLEPT LATE the next morning because I’d woken up every time Jack tossed or turned, worried I’d given him nightmares. When I got up, the Cobra had weighed anchor. As far as I could see, there was the flatness of the ocean”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“The unlit chandelier loomed over us, a dim glass jellyfish in the dark reaches of the ceiling. Candles sputtered on the table.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“Sailors broke down the creamy high-end tents, packed them into neat small bundles and loaded them and the yacht kids into the powerboat. “Goodbye,” said James to me before he boarded. We shook hands on it. “I fear we will not meet again. From here to eternity.” “OK,” I said. “But what’s your Snapchat?” “I’m not allowed Snapchat.” “Instagram, then.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“The yacht kids had left us their bag of marshmallows. Pastel colors but full-sized, a rare combo. Jack was delighted. He roasted six at a time, his fingers getting so gooey I had to wash them for him in the lapping tidewater when he was done eating.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“When we ran, if we chose to, we ran like flashes of silk. We had the vigor of those freshly born. Relatively speaking. And no, we wouldn’t be like this forever. We knew it, on a rational level. But the idea that those garbage-like figures that tottered around the great house were a vision of what lay in store—hell no. Had they had goals once? A simple sense of self-respect? They shamed us. They were a cautionary tale.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“THE PARENTS HAD been close in college but hadn’t gotten together as a group since then. Until they picked this season for their offensively long reunion. One had been heard to say: “Our last hurrah.” It sounded like bad acting in a stupid play. Another one non-joked, “After this, we’ll see each other next at someone’s funeral.” None of them cracked a smile.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“Alycia’s mother was sitting in an armchair in the corner of the library without moving—been there a long time. She’d wandered down a distant road. A mental road, said Rafe. First she’d knitted with total focus, then she’d unraveled the knitting. She was covered in a blanket, and when I went up to her to ask if she needed something—a courtesy I rarely extended to a parent—the dip in the blanket, in her lap, was full of cut-up pieces of yarn. She acted like I wasn’t there, plus she was holding scissors. I figured I’d move on. “She’s dissociating,” I heard a mother tell a father. The therapist, probably. “Detachment from reality. It’s like that time the four of us went down to Cabo. Remember?” “Oh right. The time with the tranny sex worker? And the donkey in the sombrero?” “Bill, Jesus,” said the mother. “We don’t say tranny anymore.” The day felt formless, a crazy woman in her chair snipping, some fathers beside the fireplace talking in stoned voices about utopia. (Their pot was garbage next to the Oracle, said Terry with contempt. But he’d filled a freezer bag with it anyway.) Time ran together in the dark. Day for night, night for day, and the lost power made the house static and dim against the wind.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“We figured there were probably a couple of charity cases, or at least a sliding scale. David, a techie who dearly missed his advanced computer setup back home, had let slip that his parents rented. Received a demerit for that. Not for the lack of home ownership—we hated money snobs—but for getting soft and confessional over a purloined bottle of Jäger. Drink their liquor? Sure, yes, and by all means. Act like they acted when they drank it? Receive a demerit. For it was under the influence, when parents got sloppy, that they shed their protective shells. Without which they were slugs. They left a trail of slime.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“The three of them tested each other’s accounts by referring to a birthmark, then went on to further details of James’s buff physique. “Hey! There are little guys around,” I said. “Dial it back, sluts.” Inside a fort of blankets, Jack was reading George and Martha One Fine Day. Jen changed the subject, clearly miffed she’d been left out of the James sex club. Especially since—if you believed Dee, and I wasn’t sure I did, for she had been known to lie—even an uptight mouth virgin had made the cut.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible


“Whose mother was it? Unclear. No one would cop to it, of course. We canceled the performance. “Admit it, that was your mother,” said a kid named Rafe to a kid named Sukey, when the parents had filed out. Some of their goblets, highball glasses, and beer bottles were completely empty. Drained. Those parents were in a hurry, then. “No way,” said Sukey firmly, and shook her head. “Then who is your mother? The one with the big ass? Or the one with the clubfoot?” “Neither,” said Sukey. “So fuck you.”
― Lydia Millet, A Children’s Bible

 

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  • نام فروشگاه: فروشگاه کتاب های زبان اصلی
  • فروشنده: منصور زرگران
  • آدرس: تهران
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