英文短篇小说冷门

去看狄更斯的《信号员》，乔伊斯的《死者》，英国小说《没有人比你更属于这里》，狄更斯的《信号员》，《英国短篇小说精选2:英文》，D.H. Lawrence的"The Rocking-Horse Winner".（《木马赢家》）

相信你会喜欢这篇短小的小说的。Appointment With Love －－By Sulamith Ish-KishorSix minutes to six, said the great round clock over the information booth in Grand Central Station. The tall young Army lieutenant who had just come from the direction of the tracks lifted his sunburned face, and his eyes narrowed to note the exact time. His heart was pounding with a beat that shocked him because he could not control it. In six minutes, he would see the woman who had filled such a special place in his life for the past 13 months, the woman he had never seen, yet whose written words had been with him and sustained him unfailingly. He placed himself as close as he could to the information booth, just beyond the ring of people besieging the clerks... Lieutenant Blandford remembered one night in particular, the worst of the fighting, when his plane had been caught in the midst of a pack of Zeros. He had seen the grinning face of one of the enemy pilots. In one of his letters, he had confessed to her that he often felt fear, and only a few days before this battle, he had received her answer: "Of course you fear...all brave men do. Didn't King David know fear? That's why he wrote the 23rd Psalm. Next time you doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voice reciting to you: 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me.'" And he had remembered; he had heard her imagined voice, and it had renewed his strength and skill. Now he was going to hear her real voice. Four minutes to six. His face grew sharp. Under the immense, starred roof, people were walking fast, like threads of color being woven into a gray web. A girl passed close to him, and Lieutenant Blandford started. She was wearing a red flower in her suit lapel, but it was a crimson sweet pea, not the little red rose they had agreed upon. Besides, this girl was too young, about 18, whereas Hollis Meynell had frankly told him she was 30. "Well, what of it?" he had answered. "I'm 32." He was 29. His mind went back to that book - the book the Lord Himself must have put into his hands out of the hundreds of Army library books sent to the Florida training camp. Of Human Bondage, it was; and throughout the book were notes in a woman's writing. He had always hated that writing-in habit, but these remarks were different. He had never believed that a woman could see into a man's heart so tenderly, so understandingly. Her name was on the bookplate: Hollis Meynell. He had got hold of a New York City telephone book and found her address. He had written, she had answered. Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone on writing. For 13 months, she had faithfully replied, and more than replied. When his letters did not arrive she wrote anyway, and now he believed he loved her, and she loved him. But she had refused all his pleas to send him her photograph. That seemed rather bad, of course. But she had explained: "If your feeling for me has any reality, any honest basis, what I look like won't matter. Suppose I'm beautiful. I'd always be haunted by the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I'm plain (and you must admit that this is more likely). Then I'd always fear that you were going on writing to me only because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don't ask for my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your decision. Remember, both of us are free to stop or to go on after that - whichever we choose..." One minute to six - Lieutenant Blandford's heart leaped higher than his plane had ever done. A young woman was coming toward him. Her figure was long and slim; her blond hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears. Her eyes were blue as flowers, her lips and chin had a gentle firmness. In her pale green suit, she was like springtime come alive. He started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. "Going my way, soldier?" she murmured. Uncontrollably, he made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past 40, her graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump; her thick-ankled feet were thrust into low-heeled shoes. But she wore a red rose in the rumpled lapel of her brown coat. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. Blandford felt as though he were being split in two, so keen was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and upheld his own; and there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible; he could see that now. Her gray eyes had a warm, kindly twinkle. Lieutenant Blandford did not hesitate. His fingers gripped the small worn, blue leather copy of Of Human Bondage, which was to identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even rarer than love - a friendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful. He squared his broad shoulders, saluted and held the book out toward the woman, although even while he spoke he felt shocked by the bitterness of his disappointment. "I'm Lieutenant John Blandford, and you - you are Miss Meynell. I'm so glad you could meet me. May...may I take you to dinner?" The woman's face broadened in a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is all about, son," she answered. "That young lady in the green suit - the one who just went by - begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you that she's waiting for you in that big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of a test. I've got two boys with Uncle Sam myself, so I didn't mind to oblige you."

Charles Dickens The Haunted HouseThomas Hardy The Fiddler of the ReelsAnthony Trollope The Parson's Daughter of Oxney ColneD. H. Lawrence The Prussian OfficerRudyard Kipling The Phantom RickshawH. G. Wells Under the KnifeWilkie Collins The Dead HandSaki TobermoryRobert Louis Stevenson A Lodging for the NightM. R. James Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My LadJohn Galsworthy The Broken BootGissing The House of CobwebsEliot The Lifted Veil

个人推荐下英国著名小说家狄更斯的《信号员》吧，也是英国十大名著之一吧。这个小说读完特别让人深思，主要是讲小镇一个信号员总能预测灾难的东西成为现实。他成了唯一一个灾难的预测者。知道最后一次预测他也成为牺牲者。也表现了作者对底层人民悲惨命运不能改变的悲悯。看完之后我觉得引用波波的话吧：人生中%99的时间可能都是不幸的但是我们要善于发现其中%1的万幸，好好珍惜现在的每一天吧。

D.H. Lawrence的"The Rocking-Horse Winner".（《木马赢家》）讲述了一个家庭被金钱蒙蔽了双眼，亲情不再，人与人之间的关系被物质异化的故事。一向都是劳伦斯最擅长描绘的物质主义下人的异变的故事。劳伦斯的词句不难，但是每个词底下暗流涌动，生机勃勃，文风自成一派。作为初入门的劳伦斯研究者，我觉得开口评价这位英国文学大师，已经诚惶诚恐。劳伦斯的长篇小说如《查泰莱夫人的情人》，《儿子与情人》都脍炙人口，但是短篇小说也许在国内受众不多。这篇"The Rocking-Horse Winner"是不可多得的佳作，值得一读。