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作者简介 艾莉丝·希柏德（Alice Sebold，1963年9月6日－）生于威斯康星州，是美国著名的小说家。希伯德至今出版了3本著作，其中在2002年出版的小说《可爱的骨头》（The Lovely Bones）得到相当良好的社会评价，使她跻身为美国畅销作家之一。
她在1980年毕业于宾夕法尼亚州莫尔文镇的大峡谷高中。希伯德在高中毕业后就读雪城大学。她在一年级时被一名男子带到公园里强奸，事发后希伯德立刻前往警局报案，而办案警员表示，有名女子在同样的地点被同一人强奸并杀害。因此，警员告诉希柏德，她的情形算是“幸运的”。 在升上二年级前的暑假，希柏德回到宾夕法尼亚州与家人居住，数月后返回雪城大学继续完成她的学业，并开始学习写作。返回学校的几个月后，希柏德在路上发现强奸她的那名男子，她随即向警方报案举发，最后那名男子被判终身监禁。
作品简介 《可爱的骨头》（又名《苏西的世界》）讲述一名年轻女孩苏西，放学后在玉米田遭到谋杀，以苏西为第一人称观点，从天堂观看他的家人与朋友，在她遇害后往后骤变的生活，至最后走出阴霾面对苏西去世的事实。
在将近十年的时间里，苏茜原先的同学先后从大学毕业，走上各自的生活道路。连她的家人似乎也淡忘了家中失去的这名成员，尽管由于她的遭难给家庭带来的不幸和悲哀始终笼罩着全家，挥之不去。……父亲一次突发心脏病，母亲闻讯匆匆赶回，与家人相见难免一番尴尬；父亲从医院回到家中，全家人再次团聚。在一旁偷看的苏茜的魂灵，这时意识到：一个家庭，犹如人的周身骨骼，即使有一块破损了，缺失了，但骨架终会长全，作为缺损部分的她，固然依恋这个家庭，大家也都在忆念中感到遗憾，但全家经历了这场灾难与悲痛之后，终于融合。《可爱的骨头》的书名，点出的正是这一主题。
《可爱的骨头》故事是阴郁的，但作者的语言却是幽默和智慧的。小说中表现的亲情、友情、爱情感人至深，是美国少有的家庭创伤小说。
小说的电影改编，由名导演彼得·杰克森，所执导拍摄。已于2009年11月上映。
片段赏析 My name was Salmon, like the fish; first name, Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered on December 6, 1973. In newspaper photos of missing girls from the seventies, most looked like me: white girls with mousy brown hair. This was before kids of all races and genders started appearing on milk cartons or in the daily mail. It was still back when people believed things like that didn't happen. 我姓沙蒙，听起来就像“三文鱼”，名叫苏茜。一九七三年十二月六日,我被谋害时不过十四岁。七十年代报上刊登的失踪女孩照片，大部分看起来都和我一个模样：白种女孩、灰褐色头发。在那个年代，各种种族及不同性别的小孩照片，还没有出现在牛奶盒或是每天的邮递广告上；在那个年代，大家还想不到会发生小孩遭到谋杀之类的事情。
In my junior high yearbook I had a quote from a Spanish poet my sister had turned me on to, Juan Ramon Jimenez. It went like this: 'If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.' I chose it both because it expressed my contempt for my structured surroundings a la the classroom and because, not being some dopey quote from a rock group, I thought it marked me as literary. I was a member of the Chess Club and Chem Club and burned everything I tried to make in Mrs. Delminico's home ec class. My favorite teacher was Mr. Botte, who taught biology and liked to animate the frogs and crawfish we had to dissect by making them dance in their waxed pans. 妹妹让我迷上了一个名叫希梅聂兹的西班牙诗人，我在初中毕业纪念册上特别选抄了他的一句话：“如果有人给你一张画了格线的纸，你就不要按着格线书写。”这句话表达了我对四周中规中矩的一切，诸如教室之类建筑物的轻蔑，听来深得我心，所以我选了这句话。更何况，我觉得选用一句名诗人的话，而不是某个摇滚歌手说的蠢话，让自己感觉上比较有学问。我是国际象棋社及化学社的成员，在黛敏尼柯太太的家政课上，我每次都试着烧菜，结果总是把菜烧焦。我最喜欢的老师是伯特先生，伯特先生教生物，他喜欢抓起我们要解剖的青蛙、小虾，假装让它们在上蜡的铁盘上跳舞。
I wasn't killed by Mr. Botte, by the way. Don't think every person you're going to meet in here is suspect. That's the problem. You never know. Mr. Botte came to my memorial (fas?), may I add, as did almost the entire junior high school (I was never so popular) and cried quite a bit. He had a sick kid. We all knew this, so when he laughed at his own jokes, which were rusty way before I had him, we laughed too, forcing it sometimes just to make him happy. His daughter died a year and a half after I did. She had leukemia, but I never saw her in my heaven. 顺带一提，谋杀我的凶手不是伯特先生。请你别把接下来每个即将出现的人当成凶手，但问题就在这儿：你永远料不到谁会出手杀人。伯特先生参加了我的丧礼，而且哭得很伤心。（请容我插一句：全校师生几乎都出席了丧礼，其实我在学校从来不是个万人迷。）他的小孩病得很严重，我们都知道这件事，因此，当他说了笑话，自己笑个不停时，虽然这些笑话早在我们选修他的课程之前就已过时，我们依然跟着大笑。我们有时还强迫自己跟着笑，目的只为了让他高兴一点。他的女儿在我去世一年半后也离开了人间，她得了血癌，但我在我的天堂里从未见过她。
My murderer was a man from our neighborhood. My mother liked his border flowers, and my father talked to him once about fertilizer. My murderer believed in old-fashioned things like eggshells and coffee grounds, which he said his own mother had used. My father came home smiling, making jokes about how the man's garden might be beautiful but it would stink to high heaven once a heat wave hit. 谋杀我的凶手是我家邻居，妈妈喜欢他花坛里的花，爸爸还向他请教过如何施肥。凶手先生认为蛋壳、咖啡渣等传统肥料比较有效，他说他妈妈都用这些传统方式施肥。爸爸回家之后笑个不停，他开着玩笑说这人的花园或许很漂亮，但热浪一袭，八成臭气冲天。
But on December 6, 1973, it was snowing, and I took a shortcut through the cornfield back from the junior high. It was dark out because the days were shorter in winter, and I remember how the broken cornstalks made my walk more difficult. The snow was falling lightly, like a flurry of small hands, and I was breathing through my nose until it was running so much that I had to open my mouth. Six feet from where Mr. Harvey stood, I stuck my tongue out to taste a snowflake. 但一九七三年十二月六日可没有热浪，那天飘着雪，我从学校后面的玉米地抄近路回家。冬天天黑得早，那时天色已晚，我记得地里的玉米秆被人踩得乱七八糟，田间小径也变得更不好走，细雪有如一双双小手，轻飘飘地覆盖大地。我用鼻子呼吸，直到冷得不断流鼻涕才张嘴吸气。我停下来，伸出舌头尝尝雪花的味道，哈维先生就站在离我六英尺之处。 图书馆管理员 杨雅丽 我们选取来自世界顶级英文媒体的热点内容，精心翻译，并整理出学习笔记。
取经路上，你不再一个人。 微信号:JTWest |
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