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无人生还Chapter 1

无人生还Chapter 1
无人生还Chapter 1

Chapter 1

In the corner of a first-class smoking carriage, Mr. Justice Wargrave, lately retired from the bench, puffed at a cigar and ran an interested eye through the political news in the Times.

He laid the paper down and glanced out of the window. They were running now through Somerset. He glanced at his watch - another two hours to go.

He went over in his mind all that had appeared in the papers about Indian Island. There had been its original purchase by an American millionaire who was crazy about yachting - and an account of the luxurious modern house he had built on this little island off the Devon coast. The unfortunate fact that the new third wife of the American millionaire was a bad sailor had led to the subsequent putting up of the house and island for sale. Various glowing advertisements of it had appeared in the papers. Then came the first bald statement that it had been bought - by a Mr. Owen. After that the rumours of the gossip writers had started. Indian Island had really been bought by Miss Gabrielle Turl, the Hollywood film star! She wanted to spend some months there free from all publicity! Busy Bee had hinted delicately that it was to be an abode for Royalty??! Mr. Merryweather had had it whispered to him that it had been bought for a honeymoon - Young Lord L... had surrendered to Cupid at last! Jones knew for a fact that it had been purchased by the Admiralty with a view to carrying out some very hush hush experiments!

Definitely, Indian Island was news!

From his pocket Mr. Justice Wargrave drew out a letter. The handwriting was practically illegible but words here and there stood out with unexpected clarity. Dearest Lawrence... such years since I heard anything of you... must come to Indian Island... the most enchanting place... so much to talk over... old days... communion with Nature... bask in sunshine... 12:40 from Paddington... meet you at Oakbridge... and his correspondent signed herself with a flourish his ever Constance Culmington.

Mr. Justice Wargrave cast back in his mind to remember when exactly he had last seen Lady Constance Culmington. It must be seven - no, eight

years ago. She had then been going to Italy to bask in the sun and be at one with Nature and the contadini. Later, he had heard, she had proceeded to Syria where she proposed to bask in yet stronger sun and live at one with Nature and the bedouin.

Constance Culmington, he reflected to himself, was exactly the sort of woman who would buy an island and surround herself with mystery! Nodding his head in gentle approval of his logic, Mr. Justice Wargrave allowed his head to nod... He slept...

II

Vera Claythorne, in a third-class carriage with five other travellers in it, leaned her head back and shut her eyes. How hot it was travelling by train today! It would be nice to get to the sea! Really a great piece of luck getting this job. When you wanted a holiday post it nearly always meant looking after a swarm of children - secretarial holiday posts were much more difficult to get. Even the agency hadn't held out much hope. And then the letter had come.

"I have received your name from the Skilled Women's Agency together with their recommendation. I understand they know you personally. I shall be glad to pay you the salary you ask and shall expect you to take up your duties on August 8th. The train is the 12:40 from Paddington and you will be met at Oakbridge station. I enclose five pound notes for expenses.

Yours truly,

Una Nancy Owen.

And at the top was the stamped address Indian Island. Sticklehaven. Devon...

Indian Island! Why, there had been nothing else in the papers lately! All sorts of hints and interesting rumours. Though probably that was mostly untrue. But the house had certainly been built by a millionaire and was said to be absolutely the last word in luxury.

Vera Claythorne, tired by a recent strenuous term at school, thought to herself - "Being a games mistress in a third-class school isn't much of a catch... If only I could get a job at some decent school."

And then, with a cold feeling round her heart, she thought: "But I'm

lucky to have even this. After all, people don't like a Coroner's Inquest, even if the Coroner did acquit me of all blame!"

He had even complimented her on her presence of mind and courage, she remembered. For an inquest it couldn't have gone better. And Mrs. Hamilton had been kindness itself to her - only Hugo - (but she wouldn't think of Hugo!)

Suddenly, in spite of the heat in the carriage she shivered and wished she wasn't going to the sea. A picture rose clearly before her mind. Cyril's head, bobbing up and down, swimming to the rock... Up and down - up and down... And herself, swimming in easy practised strokes after him - cleaving her way through the water but knowing, only too surely, that she wouldn't be in time...

The sea - its deep warm blue mornings spent lying out on the sands - Hugo - Hugo who had said he loved her...

She must not think of Hugo...

She opened her eyes and frowned across at the man opposite her. A tall man with a brown face, light eyes set rather close together and an arrogant almost cruel mouth.

She thought to herself:

"I bet he's been to some interesting parts of the world and seen some interesting things..."

III

Philip Lombard, summing up the girl opposite in a mere flash of his quick moving eyes thought to himself:

"Quite attractive - a bit schoolmistressy perhaps..."

A cool customer, he should imagine - and one who could hold her own - in love or war. He'd rather like to take her on...

He frowned. No, cut out all that kind of stuff. This was business. He'd got to keep his mind on the job.

What exactly was up, he wondered? That little Jew had been damned mysterious.

"Take it or leave it, Captain Lombard."

He had said thoughtfully:

"A hundred guineas, eh?"

He had said it in a casual way as though a hundred guineas was nothing to him. A hundred guineas when he was literally down to his last square meal! He had fancied, though, that the little Jew had not been deceived - that was the damnable part about Jews, you couldn't deceive them about money - they knew!

He had said in the same casual tone:

"And you can't give me any further information?"

Mr. Isaac Morris had shaken his little bald head very positively. "No, Captain Lombard, the matter rests there. It is understood by my client that your reputation is that of a good man in a tight place. I am empowered to hand you one hundred guineas in return for which you will travel to Sticklehaven, Devon. The nearest station is Oakbridge, you will be met there and motored to Sticklehaven where a motor launch will convey you to Indian Island. There you will hold yourself at the disposal of my client."

Lombard had said abruptly:

"For how long?"

"Not longer than a week at most."

Fingering his small moustache, Captain Lombard said:

"You understand I can't undertake anything - illegal?"

He had darted a very sharp glance at the other as he had spoken. There had been a very faint smile on the thick Semitic lips of Mr. Morris as he answered gravely:

"If anything illegal is proposed, you will, of course, be at perfect liberty to withdraw."

Damn the smooth little brute, he had smiled! It was as though he knew very well that in Lombard's past actions legality had not always been a sine qua non...

Lombard's own lips parted in a grin.

By Jove, he'd sailed pretty near the wind once or twice! But he'd always got away with it! There wasn't much he drew the line at really...

No, there wasn't much he'd draw the line at. He fancied that he was going to enjoy himself at Indian Island...

IV

In a non-smoking carriage Miss Emily Brent sat very upright as was her custom. She was sixty-five and she did not approve of lounging. Her father, a Colonel of the old school, had been particular about deportment.

The present generation was shamelessly lax - in their carriage, and in every other way...

Enveloped in an aura of righteousness and unyielding principles, Miss Brent sat in her crowded third-class carriage and triumphed over its discomfort and its heat. Every one made such a fuss over things nowadays! They wanted injections before they had teeth pulled - they took drugs if they couldn't sleep - they wanted easy chairs and cushions and the girls allowed their figures to slop about anyhow and lay about half naked on the beaches in summer.

Miss Brent's lips set closely. She would like to make an example of certain people.

She remembered last year's summer holiday. This year, however, it would be quite different. Indian Island...

Mentally she reread the letter which she had already read so many times.

Dear Miss Brent,

I do hope you remember me? We were together at Bellhaven Guest House in August some years ago, and we seemed to have so much in common.

I am starting a guest house of my own on an island off the coast of Devon.

I think there is really an opening for a place where there is good plain cooking and a nice old-fashioned type of person. None of this nudity and gramophones half the night. I shall be very glad if you could see your way to spending your summer holiday on Indian Island - quite free - as my guest. Would early in August suit you? Perhaps the 8th.

Yours sincerely.

U.N. -

What was the name? The signature was rather difficult to read. Emily Brent thought impatiently: "So many people write their signatures quite

illegibly."

She let her mind run back over the people at Bellhaven. She had been there two summers running. There had been that nice middle-aged woman - Mrs. - Mrs. - now what was her name? - her father had been a Canon. And there had been a Miss Olton - Ormen - No, surely it was Oliver! Yes - Oliver.

Indian Island! There had been things in the paper about Indian Island - something about a film star - or was it an American millionaire?

Of course often those places went very cheap - islands didn't suit everybody. They thought the idea was romantic but when they came to live there they realized the disadvantages and were only too glad to sell. Emily Brent thought to herself: "I shall be getting a free holiday at any rate."

With her income so much reduced and so many dividends not being paid, that was indeed something to take into consideration. If only she could remember a little more about Mrs. - or was it Miss - Oliver?

V

General Macarthur looked out of the carriage window. The train was just coming into Exeter where he had to change. Damnable, these slow branch line trains! This place, Indian Island, was really no distance at all as the crow flies.

He hadn't got it clear who this fellow Owen was. A friend of Spoof Leggard's, apparently - and of Johnny Dyer's.

- One or two of your old cronies are coming - would like to have a talk over old times.

Well, he'd enjoy a chat about old times. He'd had a fancy lately that fellows were rather lighting shy of him. All owing to that damned rumour! By God, it was pretty hard - nearly thirty years ago now! Armstrong had talked, he supposed. Damned young pup! What did he know about it? Oh, well, no good brooding about these things! One fancied things sometimes - fancied a fellow was looking at you queerly.

This Indian Island now, he'd be interested to see it. A lot of gossip flying about. Looked as though there might be something in the rumour that the Admiralty or the War Office or the Air Force had got hold of it...

Young Elmer Robson, the American millionaire, had actually built the place. Spent thousands on it, so it was said. Every mortal luxury... Exeter! And an hour to wait! And he didn't want to wait. He wanted to get on...

VI

Dr. Armstrong was driving his Morris across Salisbury Plain. He was very tired... Success had its penalties. There had been a time when he had sat in his consulting room in Harley Street, correctly apparelled, surrounded with the most up-to-date appliances and the most luxurious furnishings and waited - waited through the empty days for his venture to succeed or fail...

Well, it had succeeded! He'd been lucky! Lucky and skillful of course. He was a good man at his job - but that wasn't enough for success. You had to have luck as well. And he'd had it! An accurate diagnosis, a couple of grateful women patients - women with money and position - and word had got about. "You ought to try Armstrong - quite a young man - but so clever - Pam had been to all sorts of people for years and he put his finger on the trouble at once!" The ball had started rolling.

And now Dr. Armstrong had definitely arrived. His days were full. He had little leisure. And so, on this August morning, he was glad that he was leaving London and going to be for some days on an island off the Devon coast. Not that it was exactly a holiday. The letter he had received had been rather vague in its terms, but there was nothing vague about the accompanying cheque. A whacking fee. These Owens must be rolling in money. Some little difficulty, it seemed, a husband who was worried about his wife's health and wanted a report on it without her being alarmed. She wouldn't hear of seeing a doctor. Her nerves -

Nerves! The doctor's eyebrows went up. These women and their nerves! Well, it was good for business, after all. Half the women who consulted him had nothing the matter with them but boredom, but they wouldn't thank you for telling them so! And one could usually find something. "A slightly uncommon condition of the - some long word - nothing at all serious - but it just needs putting right. A simple treatment."

Well, medicine was mostly faith-healing when it came to it. And he had a

good manner - he could inspire hope and belief.

Lucky that he'd managed to pull himself together in time after that business ten - no, fifteen years ago. It had been a near thing, that! He'd been going to pieces. The shock had pulled him together. He'd cut out drink altogether. By Jove, it had been a near thing though...

With a devastating car-splitting blast on the horn an enormous Super Sports Dalmain car rushed past him at eighty miles an hour. Dr. Armstrong nearly went into the hedge. One of these young fools who tore round the country. He hated them. That had been a near shave, too. Damned young fool!

VII

Tony Marston, roaring down into Mere, thought to himself:

"The amount of cars crawling about the roads is frightful. Always something blocking your way. And they will drive in the middle of the road! Pretty hopeless driving in England, anyway... Not like France where you really could let out..."

Should he stop here for a drink, or push on? Heaps of time! Only another hundred miles and a bit to go. He'd have a gin and gingerbeer. Fizzing hot day!

This island place ought to be rather good fun - if the weather lasted. Who were these Owens, he wondered? Rich and stinking, probably. Badger was rather good at nosing people like that out. Of course, he had to, poor old chap, with no money of his own...

Hope they'd do one well in drinks. Never knew with these fellows who'd made their money and weren't born to it. Pity that story about Gabrielle Turl having bought Indian Island wasn't true. He'd like to have been in with that film star crowd.

Oh, well, he supposed there'd be a few girls there...

Coming out of the Hotel, he stretched himself, yawned, looked up at the blue sky and climbed into the Dalmain.

Several young women looked at him admiringly - his six feet of well-proportioned body, his crisp hair, tanned face, and intensely blue eyes.

He let in the clutch with a roar and leapt up the narrow street. Old men

and errand boys jumped for safety. The latter looked after the car admiringly.

Anthony Marston proceeded on his triumphal progress.

VIII

Mr. Blore was in the slow train from Plymouth. There was only one other person in his carriage, an elderly seafaring gentleman with a bleary eye. At the present moment he had dropped off to sleep.

Mr. Blore was writing carefully in a little notebook.

"That's the lot," he muttered to himself. "Emily Brent, Vera Claythorne, Dr. Armstrong, Anthony Marston, old Justice Wargrave, Philip Lombard, General Macarthur, C.M.G., D.S.O. Manservant and wife: Mr. and Mrs. Rogers."

He closed the notebook and put it back in his pocket. He glanced over at the corner and the slumbering man.

"Had one over the eight." diagnosed Mr. Blore accurately. He went over things carefully and conscientiously in his mind.

"Job ought to be easy enough," he ruminated. "Don't see how I can slip up on it. Hope I look all right."

He stood up and scrutinized himself anxiously in the glass. The face reflected there was of a slightly military cast with a moustache. There was very little expression in it. The eyes were grey and set rather close together.

"Might be a Major," said Mr. Blore. "No, I forgot. There's that old military gent. He'd spot me at once.

"South Africa," said Mr. Blore, "that's my line! None of these people have anything to do with South Africa, and I've just been reading that travel folder so I can talk about it all right."

Fortunately there were all sorts and types of colonials. As a man of means from South Africa, Mr. Blore felt that he could enter into any society unchallenged.

Indian Island. He remembered Indian Island as a boy... Smelly sort of rock covered with gulls - stood about a mile from the coast. It had got its name from its resemblance to a man's head - an American Indian profile. Funny idea to go and build a house on it! Awful in bad weather! But

millionaires were full of whims!

The old man in the corner woke up and said:

"You can't never tell at sea - never!"

Mr. Blore said soothingly, "That's right. You can't."

The old man hiccuped twice and said plaintively:

"There's a squall coming."

Mr. Blore said:

"No, no, mate, it's a lovely day."

The old man said angrily:

"There's a squall ahead. I can smell it."

"Maybe you're right," said Mr. Blore pacifically.

The train stopped at a station and the old fellow rose unsteadily. "Thish where I get out." He fumbled with the window. Mr. Blore helped him.

The old man stood in the doorway. He raised a solemn hand and blinked his bleary eyes.

"Watch and pray," he said. "Watch and pray. The day of judgement is at hand."

He collapsed through the doorway onto the platform. From a recumbent position he looked up at Mr. Blore and said with immense dignity:

"I'm talking to you, young man. The day of judgement is very close at hand."

Subsiding onto his seat Mr. Blore thought to himself:

"He's nearer the day of judgement than I am!"

But there, as it happens, he was wrong...

无人生还读后感教学教材

无人生还读后感

无人生还读后感 在推理小说的世界里,阿加莎-克里斯蒂的《无人生还》,是我们所不应忽略的作品。这本书无论是作者本人,还是广大读者,都公认是作者一生中最伟大的作品。就小说本身而言,其中首创的封闭山庄童谣杀人的杀人模式,以及《无人生还》问世后,后世的许许多多的作家写的向《无人生还》的致敬或挑战之作,又或是戏谑之作,都无不从某种角度上证明了《无人生还》一作在推理文学史上所占有的具有里程碑意义的地位。笔者有幸得空连原作在内,阅读了这一系列的6部作品,又早闻由阿加莎克里斯蒂所写的同名剧本《无人生还》即将首次在沪上演,现在记下读书心得,算是在公演前对作品进行一番温习,也算是向诸位推荐一下这个作品吧。 一、《无人生还》 “世界上有许许多多的犯罪小说作家,而阿加莎-克里斯蒂则是统辖他们的女王” ——贵州版《无人生还》封底语 《无人生还》讲述的是一件离奇的案件:十个身份不同的人,因为收到署名信件而一起来到了黑人岛上的别墅。在封闭的小岛上,谋杀伴随着流传于黑人岛上的童谣发生了。十个人陆续按照童谣中所描写的那样,以不同的方式走向了生命的尽头。没有外人,一切都合乎逻辑,那

么真凶究竟是谁?真-相究竟是什么呢? 平心而论,这的确是一部伟大的推理杰作。第一次读这样类型的作品,带给你的是震撼和不可思议。诞生于上世纪三十年代的这部作品,一方面保持了阿婆所特有的女性细腻的笔法,另一方面,不得不让人惊叹她卓越的构思布局能力。阅读这样的小说,面对这样的杀人动机,我们能体会到阿婆所认同价值观,但更重要的是享受其中本格推理所带来的妙味。 一口气通读完这个作品,我心中惟有赞叹不绝,如果说要我其中挑出稍许不满的地方的话,我想如果阿婆的另一个作品——《帷幕》能和《无人生还》结合的话,让波洛成为黑人岛的主人,主宰这整个杀人事件,或许更佳。因为,我想不出,一个以塑造大侦探波洛而闻名于世,有着世界侦探小说女王之称的作家,却以这样的一部没有侦探出现的作品,成为其一生的最高杰作,这是一种荣幸,又或是其他呢。但是,时至今日,我们无法否认的是,《无人生还》已经超过了其本身的文字所能代表的意义,成为了阿加莎-克里斯蒂,乃至推理小说的代名词。 二、《双曲线杀人》 “本书是西村京太郎大展才华的登峰造极之作,是他的作品中评价最高的一部” ——林白版《杀人双曲线》封底语

话剧无人生还观后感

话剧无人生还观后感 话剧无人生还>观后感 我必须承认,这是我第一次看悬疑话剧。 我也算是个刚入门的>戏剧迷吧,大学四年也看了一些戏,但惊险悬疑类我很少考虑,因为不喜欢被吓。可这次《无人生还》的评价实在太好了,加上阿加莎·克里斯蒂的鼎鼎大名摆着,着实激起了我的好奇心,于是买了一张山顶票,今天下班兴冲冲地跑到浙话艺术剧院看戏去了。 第一幕平平淡淡,甚至有一点柯南既视感……本来么,孤岛,互不相识的一群人,一个一个接连死去,找不到凶手……多么烂俗的桥段。可是到了第二幕,死亡的频率大幅增加,恐怖的气氛逐渐浓重,吓得我时而捂耳朵,时而捂心口,冒了一身的冷汗,直到全剧结束,心脏还在砰砰乱跳,实在忍不住要大呼过瘾!在感到刺激痛快的同时,我也终于领略到了戏剧舞台在营造惊悚气氛时,与电影在手法上的种种不同。 电影营造恐怖气氛,最主要的两个武器当属配乐和镜头,我们每个人都知道,一部惊悚片,若是在静音模式下观看,其威力一下小了不少,而特写、光影也是营造恐怖气氛的帮凶。然而到了舞台上,镜头语言不复存在,在《无人生还》中,甚至配乐的成分也大大降低,可它却依然能营造出绝妙的恐怖气氛,这一要归功于灯光,二要归功于戏剧节奏,导演巧妙的设计,层层推进的氛围,让观众的一点一点地代入到剧情中,惊恐万分。 大幕一拉开,变幻的灯光就营造出了一种诡异荒凉的气氛,一座宁静的房子,交替亮起的聚光灯,使得房内的每一件家具看起来都如同潜伏的怪兽,随时会把人吞噬。然而恐怖的气氛只持续了很短的时间,很快,灯亮了起来,仆人、厨娘忙忙碌碌,客人依次来到,相互打着招呼,一切都是如此的和谐,剧情也在众人的交谈声中,逐步展开着。 然而戏剧的精彩之处,就是总会在你心情放松的时候出现转折,《无人生还》也是这样。很快,留声机里的莫名指控、迅速死去的第一个人、摔碎的印第安小男孩……一连串的恐怖事件,把气氛一下子扭转了过来,悬疑的感觉迅速铺开——凶手是谁?手法是什么?这十个人真的都有罪吗?接下来遇难的又会是谁呢?在这样的问号中,每一个观众都清楚地意识到,下一次死亡已近在咫尺,顺着这样的期待,随后发生的第二起谋杀为第一幕画上了句号。 也许正是因为太符合预期了,第一幕给人的感觉平平淡淡,幕间休息时我脑海里甚至出现了“不过如此”几个字,什么吓破胆的说法应该只是噱头吧,我暗自揣测。 现在,坐在电脑前写着剧评的我回想起当时的这些念头,不由得怀疑导演是有意将第一幕设计得如此平淡无奇的,因为在第一幕完全没有被吓到的我,在第二幕付出了惨痛的代价。

无人生还英语读后感

无人生还读后感 It is said that the committing crime is the nature and original desire of human being. In my opinion, then there were none is the most blood-curdling and creeping one of all the creations of Christie. The story makes people with your hair standing on end and marvel at the crime?s delicateness. The story goes on with the way that Christie is most good at, a group of people was stuck in a place that nobody can come in and nobody can go out, while the murderer is one of them. People die one by one, and the feeling …you?re next to go? and the fear is like a shadow surrounded tightly. All the things that one can do is to guess, suppose and curse. Every collaboration and cooperation with the other people is full of suspicion and mistrust. The human nature totally came out when someone is confronted with desperation and death. In the book, you can even not tell who is controlling the whole story and what effects the tone, the voice or the language. The author put the thoughts of the characters in there, without telling you whose thoughts they were. I think Justice Wargrave was telling the story, but it is just my idea. Christie never showed that. It just make you to guess. Like the characters in the story. The motive of the murder depended on the characters and their personalities. Everyone seems to have his own motive and they are different from each other. But the only similar thing is the willingness to give justice to the murders of innocent people. And If I had to find a common thread of “motive”, I wou ld say that selfishness would probably be number one. Vera killed the child out of selfishness, General MacArthur- selfishness, even Dr. Armstrong?s drinking and Anthony?s driving over the children were different forms of selfishness and not being focused on the needs of others. Pretty much all the characters acted rather calm throughout the whole thing. I can?t imagine what I will do if I were in that situation, I would panic, cry, and find a trustworthy person and stick with them the whole time. However, in the book, The effect of guilt emerges as one of the major underlying themes. Christie accurately portrayed the different human responses which shoes Guilt is most often what brings a person to repentance. After reading, I wonder whether the people have got what they deserved, any of the characters were punished unfairly? Does “just behavior” mean that you are a “good” person? Warfield punishing the others for their prior actions but we can?t telling if he was right or not. In trying to create “justice” he himself became a murderer and unfortunately, nobody could help him. I n Christie?s autobiography, she wrote, “It was so difficult to do that the idea had fascinated me…I wrote the book after a tremendous amount of planning, and I was pleased with what I had made of it.” It was seemed to be an near-impossible story, but Christie made it come true.

《无人生还》 读后感1000字

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或与译者有关。在下所读贵州版,过程中毫无流畅平和之美感,只觉前言不搭后语,许多理应余音绕梁处却嫌生硬,一般叙述时反因多义英文单词的误解而冒充了线索,个别段落甚至有读没有懂。这等异常现象之解释,我在克里斯蒂脑子进水、在下理解力大幅倒退和翻译者自己抽筋之间,选择了第三个——其文辞之粗劣,真好似使用了网络翻译软件后直接排版的效果。 不过话说回来,也确有一些精髓之处,早期灵光一闪,亟待发展,后世却缺乏承袭,丢了西瓜捡了芝麻。之于“暴风雪山庄”,《无人生还》是立,是顺,是特例;而后人所写,是破,是逆,是常例。其间必有变化,某些方面难以兼顾,也属必然。但变化本身,大多弊大于利,越发难以在飘和稳之间取一个平衡;而少数利大于弊者,利处偏偏不加彰显,弊处却也不知修饰,反而画蛇添足,新不如故。 在下乃是劳心之人。每每针对一些人事物作些思索,总有一些感触、一些慨叹、一些追思、一些承当。此次亦不例外。所谓,重整河山待后生。 看完了阿加莎克里斯蒂的《无人生还》,虽然已经高三了,但我还是无法放下书,还是想看书,没办法,几次提醒自己要好好学,就是改不了,言归正传:从一开始我就被这本书吸引了,小说一开头竟然同时进行了八个人的心理描写,这是我从未见到的,我对阿加莎的文字掌控能力佩服的五体

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分类号______________________ 论文选题类型 U D C 编号 本科毕业论文 题目《无人生还》中的儿歌“十个小黑 人”隐喻意义分析 院(系)生命科学学院 专业生物科学 年级2011级 学生姓名杨子菡 学号2011211785 指导教师方幸福 二O一四年十月

Hint Insinuation of the Rhyme Ten little Indians ——On Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None A thesis submitted to the School of Foreign Languages CCNU In partial fulfillment of the requirements for BA degree In English Literature by Yang Zihan Supervisor: Fang xingfu Academic Title: Professor Signature: October 2014

华中师范大学 学位论文原创性声明 本人郑重声明:所呈交的学位论文是本人在导师指导下独立进行研究工作所取得的研究成果。除了文中特别加以标注引用的内容外,本论文不包含任何其他个人或集体已经发表或撰写的成果作品。本人完全意识到本声明的法律后果由本人承担。 学位论文作者签名:日期:年月日 学位论文版权使用授权书 本学位论文作者完全了解学校有关保障、使用学位论文的规定,同意学校保留并向有关学位论文管理部门或机构送交论文的复印件和电子版,允许论文被查阅和借阅。本人授权省级优秀学士学位论文评选机构将本学位论文的全部或部分内容编入有关数据库进行检索,可以采用影印、缩印或扫描等复制手段保存和汇编本学位论文。 本学位论文属于 1、保密□,在_____年解密后适用本授权书。 2、不保密□。 (请在以上相应方框内打“√”) 学位论文作者签名:日期:年月日 导师签名:日期:年月日

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无人生还的读书笔记 导读:我根据大家的需要整理了一份关于《无人生还的读书笔记》的内容,具体内容:无人生还是推理小说。那读者的阅读心得如何写?下面是我精心为你整理,一起来看看。篇1小说的开头,作者西村京太郎就告诉了我们他在这个作品中所运用的是双胞胎诡计。故事以孪... 无人生还是推理小说。那读者的阅读心得如何写?下面是我精心为你整理,一起来看看。 篇1 小说的开头,作者西村京太郎就告诉了我们他在这个作品中所运用的是双胞胎诡计。故事以孪生兄弟抢劫商店为开端,伴随着在日本东北部的封闭雪山旅馆连续杀人案件,而逐渐走向高潮。两个看似不相关联的刑事案件,犹如平面几何中的双曲线没有交点,在阅读的很大一段时间内让我摸不着头脑。 直到小说的高潮部分,真相逐渐被揭开,我才有恍然大悟的感觉。原本以为是两个毫无关系的事件,却因为双胞胎的关系,在某一点上达到了交汇。发生在封闭雪山旅馆的案件虽然没有童谣杀人,但是以保龄球瓶的消失来代替死者的个数,从一些细节的描写不难发现,作者所仿照的是《无人生还》的模式。虽然是模仿,却因为双胞胎诡计的运用,而使这部作品在诡计运用方面较之《无人生还》,可谓青出于蓝。 另外,值得一说的是,在《杀人双曲线》中,和《无人生还》不同的是,封闭环境下的连续杀人事件,凶手所采取的不被怀疑的方法又是一种独特

模式,看完全书,不得不让人钦佩作者的构思巧妙。 总之,在向《无人生还》的挑战之作中,我首推这部作品。如果说读这本书有什么遗憾的话,那就是我在读完后发现,很大程度上,当年李幼斌、于小慧主演的国产刑侦剧《情有千千劫》,在主要的情节构思方面,有抄袭《杀人双曲线》的嫌疑,当然核心的双胞胎诡计除外。所幸的是,这更显示出《杀人双曲线》在向《无人生还》挑战作品中,占有令人瞩目的地位。 篇2 看完了阿加莎克里斯蒂的《无人生还》,虽然已经高三了,但我还是无法放下书,还是想看书,没办法,几次提醒自己要好好学,就是改不了,言归正传:从一开始我就被这本书吸引了,小说一开头竟然同时进行了八个人的心理描写,这是我从未见到的,我对阿加莎的文字掌控能力佩服的五体投地,在整个小说中都曾经多次进行过很多人的心理描写,这对作家的能力是一个极大地考验,八个不同经历的人必然是八种不同的心理,你要把每一个人的心理都捉摸透,都不尽相同,事实证明阿加莎经受住了这样的考验,她的文章完全折服了我。 说实话我,我完全被这个最伟大的女性侦探小说家骗了,我从一开始认为欧文先生不在岛上,后来知道他在岛上,后来认为他是十人中的一个,到后来只剩三个人的时候我恍然大悟他根本不是这十人中的一个,但看到结尾才明白自己错了,法官竟然就是欧文先生,这是我完全没有想到的。法官一开始确实给人一种狡猾的感觉,但是他的年龄和他在整个团队中所成为的领导者角色都让人感觉这么一个老先生是杀人凶手是多么的不

无人生还读后感800字

无人生还读后感800字 篇一:无人生还读后感 在下若有志于一件事物,必依下法而行—— 首先,大略入门之后,尽量保持该领域的知识空白,以自家的头脑空想,应该是如此这般,一五一十;而后亲身实践,积累经验;到一段落时,进入研究段,以采样方式调查。采样一般有三:看起始,看最终,看巅峰。若再有兴趣,再从中抽取几个有代表性的过程样点,略窥其变化走势而已。 吾对侦探小说如此——爱伦·坡看过,原创看过,克里斯蒂看过,够了,旁的不看了;而对“暴风雪山庄”,亦如此。《无人生还》作为此类代表——若说此类不该称“暴风雪”而应称“孤岛”,纯属咬文嚼字——写得如此早,写得如此好,自然不可不知。 在大致领略“暴风雪”的风姿之后,在下便私自定下作此种文章的“一”、“二”、“三”、“四”,这里便不细说了。一直以来,对“暴风雪”的某些痼疾颇有微词,怨念甚深,原以为是后来人不争气,狗尾续貂、画虎类犬,如今见得这般早期这般经典,那一桩桩一件件,竟也不能免俗,不禁修正观点:这等模式,怕是胎里带病、先天不足。而这论断,或与译者有关。在下所读贵州版,过程中毫无流畅平和之美感,只觉前言不搭后语,许多理应余音绕梁处却嫌生硬,一般叙述时反因多义英文单词的误解而冒充了线索,个别段落甚至有读没有懂。这等异常现象之解释,我在克里斯蒂脑子进水、在下理解

力大幅倒退和翻译者自己抽筋之间,选择了第三个——其文辞之粗劣,真好似使用了网络翻译软件后直接排版的效果。 不过话说回来,也确有一些精髓之处,早期灵光一闪,亟待发展,后世却缺乏承袭,丢了西瓜捡了芝麻。之于“暴风雪山庄”,《无人生还》是立,是顺,是特例;而后人所写,是破,是逆,是常例。其间必有变化,某些方面难以兼顾,也属必然。但变化本身,大多弊大于利,越发难以在飘和稳之间取一个平衡;而少数利大于弊者,利处偏偏不加彰显,弊处却也不知修饰,反而画蛇添足,新不如故。 在下乃是劳心之人。每每针对一些人事物作些思索,总有一些 感触、一些慨叹、一些追思、一些承当。此次亦不例外。所谓——重整河山待后生。 我欲乘风。 篇二:无人生还读后感 看完了阿加莎克里斯蒂的《无人生还》,虽然已经高三了,但 我还是无法放下书,还是想看书,没办法,几次提醒自己要好好学,就是改不了,言归正传:从一开始我就被这本书吸引了,小说一开头竟然同时进行了八个人的心理描写,这是我从未见到的,我对阿加莎的文字掌控能力佩服的五体投地,在整个小说中都曾经多次进行过很多人的心理描写,这对作家的能力是一个极大地考验,八个不同经历的人必然是八种不同的心理,你要把每一个人的心理都捉摸透,都不尽相同,事实证明阿加莎经受住了这样的考验,她的文章完全折服了我。

无人生还-读后感

读《无人生还》有感 以前一直很喜欢读关于推理类的小说,因为这很惊险,很刺激,能带给人新鲜的感觉,喜欢有惊喜,喜欢有期待的感觉。随着一层层薄纱被揭开,随着一层层迷雾被推开,呈现在我们面前的往往是意想不到的结果,喜出望外的感觉总是让人舒服,又惊奇。每次读一本推理小说,总是会受益匪浅,越看越喜欢。 荒岛上仅有十个人,其中有一个是凶手。但他们接连死去,无人生还。那么谁是杀人犯?是最后一个死去的人吗?如果不是,那么他(她)如何在死去之后,还能使自己的杀人计划照常实行?他(她)为什么杀人,又为什么给自己也贴上死亡标签?在《无人生还》中,阿加莎·克里斯蒂显然把自己逼入了创作的险地。面临此景,侦探小说作者有两种选择,一是用天才的构思自圆其说,另一就是假托“心理悬疑”“奇幻”一类低劣手段胡说八道。 “十个小兵人,外出去吃饭。一个被呛死,还剩九个人。九个小兵人,熬夜熬得深。一个睡过头,还剩八个人。八个小兵人,动身去德文。一个要留下,还剩七个人……”这首英国的古老童谣成了贯穿小说的线索。十个被害者先后像歌谣中描述的那样死去,使之带有谶语的色彩。它使这小说的文字冷飕飕的。你的耳旁似乎总有一个呓语式的童声,它在轻轻吟咏这歌谣,那漫不经心的声调中带着一丝死亡的气息,犹如在童真的面庞上忽然出现嗜血的表情一般,让人在极端的对比中感到无形的恐惧。 从风和日丽到惨雾弥漫,小岛由度假胜地变成了人间地狱。这部英国的小说,会很容易地让你联想起英国的天气:多雨、阴冷。暗夜中的大海隐去了波澜壮阔的一面,冷峻地窥视岛上的一切。当海边也成为谋杀现场之一时,从沙滩上退去的海浪便留下一抹忧郁,让人担忧死亡之吻的再度来临。尼罗河上的扑朔迷离,扰乱的是读者的智慧,而《无人生还》中的大惑不解,扰乱的是人们的心弦。 克里斯蒂似乎是深信人性本恶的。在谋杀案中,几乎每位出现在现场的人都有作案动机。克里斯蒂在对每一位嫌疑人加以排除时,都顺便嘲讽着他们的阴暗一面。凶手预先在留声机中放置了录音,在众人上岛后逐个宣布了他们的罪状。原来每位上岛者的心头都藏有一个秘密:军官为了泄私愤故意将下属派往危险之地;医生醉酒后动手术致使病人死亡;女孩儿为了帮情人获得遗产故意制造了一起事故……所有的人都受到了指控,小岛变成了审判之所。 在绝境中,有人心头坦然,因其多年来已无法承受罪恶感带来的痛苦;有人不以为然,因其从不曾以自己的罪错为忤;还有人惶然,有人凄然。但无论怎样,从贵族到底层,岛上的所有人都揭去了身份的装扮,在最残酷的现实面前表露了最真实的一面。渴望生命是其中一部分人的想法,渴望解脱则是所有人的企盼——困境或道德上的解脱。 如果说“波洛三部曲”里还有波洛的幽默作为调剂,那么《无人生还》则从头至尾充满压抑的悲腔。克里斯蒂的嘲弄越来越少,取而代之的是声色俱厉的批判。同时她也变得更无情——那首童谣无异于一份判决书,将这些待死的囚徒送至刑场,先让他们看到黑洞洞的枪口,而后蒙上头罩,再将枪口抵上他们的额头。那种等待中的煎熬带来了无法承受的沉重感。也许,当你在深夜读这本书时,会听见他们大口的喘息声。 “他们究竟是谁杀的呢?”直到小说临近终结,这谜团一直困扰众人。最后是一份神秘的自白解开了谜。真正令人吃惊的,不是行凶者那难以为人察觉的作案手段,而是他(她)的身份和动机。人性的悲哀在最后的剖白中无法抑止,海中的荒岛犹如失落的人心,在罪错的反思中变得无所凭依。文明在小岛上荒芜,道德的流放地万物萧条,无人生还。这部小说在此时变得深刻起来,当后世的读者一再感叹克里斯蒂“目眩神迷”的写作技巧时,似不应忽略她笔下流露的哀叹之声。

《无人生还》读书笔记及感悟2000字

《无人生还》读书笔记及感悟2000字 《无人生还》读书笔记及感悟2000字: 昨晚读了阿加莎·克里斯蒂的《无人生还》,只读了一遍,现在还在晕晕的状态。 对于胆小的我来说,侦探推理的小说、惊悚小说一直不是我的菜。会读它也是因为前阵子沉迷《明星大侦探》无法自拔,然后在昨晚刷kindle商店的时候,发现这本书的情节很像明侦里面某一集的内容,估计那集的编剧就是参考的这本书,突然感兴趣就下载了看一下。 吐槽: 书很短,一口气就能读完。前面很大篇幅写了各个人物的出场。这些人来自不同的地方身份地位职业牛马不相及,然而他们又一个共同点,就是他们或直接或间接剥夺了他人的生命而法律没有办法制裁他们。看这部分的时候很崩溃,有10个人物,他们有各自的性格特点,各自的背景,各自的故事。而在介绍他们的时候,几乎是一口气像写说明书一样列出来。所以等他们集体登岛之后,我还是没搞清楚谁是谁。说实话,我到读完书也没有搞清楚全部人,只是能把几个人对上号了(绝对是因为人越死越少)。 登岛之前是人物介绍,登岛之后就是凶杀开始,故事发展也非常快,没几下人就死的差不多了。感觉就是叙述,并没有在细

节上面做一些装饰,让读者参与进推理之中。一般读这种推理小说,最让人兴奋的应该是根据小说中出现的情节、线索、细节等能让读者进行推理,自己YY凶手是谁。而这本书凶杀发展太快了,且凶杀与凶杀之间,没有过多描述。(也许是我在读的时候没有动脑子吧,所以才觉得这本书不精彩。)我觉得最后虽然作者以凶手的口吻解开谜题,但是解得挺突兀的。不可否认这个凶手的设的杀人局非常高超,但是之前书里对这个谜底的指向线索太少了。没有在读解谜这部分的时候给人发出“原来那时候怎么怎么样是为了这样这样”“难怪那时候怎么怎么样”类似感叹的机会。总之一句话,细节不够多,看得不够爽。 看法: 十个人,都是由于法律有灰色地带所以免受制裁,除了法官。但是法官也由自己非常主观的道德只配杀了其他9个人再自杀。(我觉得记名字没啥意义哈,所以这里就用他们的特点指代这些角色。) 第一个死的人是有钱的公子哥,出场就说他喜欢拉风地开车驰骋。他背负的人命也是由于开车肇事致使两个小孩死亡。他没有任何悔过意识。而他的死亡是氰化物中毒,讽刺的是其他人刚开始猜测他是悔过自杀。交通事故的肇事者,究竟用不用偿命? 有悔过的用不用偿命?无悔过的用不用偿命? 第二个死亡的人是管家太太,药物致死。从管家太太对公子哥死亡这件事的反应看出,她不是彻头彻尾的坏人,做了亏心事

无人生还读后感_无人生还读书心得五篇

无人生还读后感_无人生还读书心得五篇 ----WORD文档,下载后可编辑修改---- 无人生还读后感1 在推理小说的世界里,阿加莎-克里斯蒂的《无人生还》,是我们所不应忽略的作品。这本书无论是作者本人,还是广大读者,都公认是作者一生中最伟大的作品。就小说本身而言,其中首创的封闭山庄童谣杀人的杀人模式,以及《无人生还》问世后,后世的许许多多的作家写的向《无人生还》的致敬或挑战之作,又或是戏谑之作,都无不从某种角度上证明了《无人生还》一作在推理文学史上所占有的具有里程碑意义的地位。笔者有幸得空连原作在内,阅读了这一系列的6部作品,又早闻由阿加莎克里斯蒂所写的同名剧本《无人生还》即将首次在沪上演,现在记下读书心得,算是在公演前对作品进行一番温习,也算是向诸位推荐一下这个作品吧。 “世界上有许许多多的犯罪小说作家,而阿加莎-克里斯蒂则是统辖他们的女王” ----贵州版《无人生还》封底语 《无人生还》讲述的是一件离奇的案件:十个身份不同的人,因为收到署名信件而一起来到了黑人岛上的别墅。在封闭的小岛上,谋杀伴随着流传于黑人岛上的童谣发生了。十个人陆续按照童谣中所描写的那样,以不同的方式走向了生命的尽头。没有外人,一切都合乎逻辑,那么真凶究竟是谁?真相究竟是什么呢?

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