屠场The Jungle 英文版 第2章

[爱配音的Z]经典英语文学有声书：

屠场/The Jungle

1906年出版

【声明！本人各专辑的英语文学作品全部为上传者本人朗读的原创作品。目前绝大多数能在这里搜到的英文文学有声书均为在audible等欧美正版售卖平台上有售的正版有声读物，相当于是给主播自己刷粉丝和刷点击率的行为。私自传播受到版权保护的出版物，跟传播盗版电影一样，是非法的侵权行为。我的全部声音均为自己录制，您听到的是我的声音、我的音色和发音习惯，证明一个在中国出生长大的人也可以这样朗读英文文学。感谢您的支持！】

作者简介：

厄普顿辛克莱（1878-1968）出身于马里兰州巴尔的摩一个没落贵族家庭。父亲是白酒商人，嗜酒成性，并最终醉酒而死。在辛克莱十岁的时候，他们全家搬到了纽约。父亲白天靠卖帽子为生，晚上则混在酒吧里。辛克莱后来写道：“……自打有记忆以来，我的生活就一直像一个命运不断转变的灰姑娘；今天晚上睡在寄宿公寓里一张爬满虱子、跳蚤的沙发上，明天晚上就可能身处豪宅，躺在大床上，身上盖着丝绸被单。这种起伏不定的生活状况缘于父亲不稳定的收入……”十五岁，他开始为一些通俗出版物写文章，并以此供自己读大学。后来，辛克莱为一份社会主义宣传周刊《呼唤理性》写稿，在此期间编辑鼓励他以“工资奴隶制”为主题写本书。为此，厄普顿·辛克莱特意到芝加哥屠场去体验生活，在那里一呆就是七个星期。在屠场，他亲眼目睹了肉食生产的各个工序，见证了工资奴隶们的悲惨生活际遇，并于1906年写成了《屠场》。

作品简介：

“我本来想打动公众的心，却不料击中了他们的胃。”

《屠场》名扬世界的原因却有点出奇制胜：它极尽所能地揭露了食品安全问题。

当年，西奥多•罗斯福总统边吃早饭边看这本书，看着看着就吃不下去了，他愤怒地吐了嘴里的东西，抓起香肠丢出了窗外。书中对于食品安全问题令人作呕的描写带来的冲击力让他把精力全都放到休戚相关的“吃”上去了，美国人民也不例外，他们或多或少忽略了书中对于工人阶层生存处境艰难的描述，也目光聚焦在了“吃”上。因为“吃”，这书震惊了全美，人们大概是第一次产生了对食品加工厂的全民性愤怒。而后，他们制订了影响极为深远的食品卫生检查法。

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http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/140

上传者简介：

留英多年的北京人，史蒂芬金超级脑残粉、热爱英语配音。

由本人朗读，本书旁白和主要人物为美音，个别配角为影音。

本专辑每周更新3-4次，每条声音时长约15分钟，根据原著章节实际长度而定。喜欢的话欢迎继续收听本人的其它朗读作品、有意见和反馈也欢迎分享。感谢你的支持！

原文示范，本章节开头片段：（因字数和审核原因，不在此显示全文）

Jurgis talked lightly about work, because he was young. They told him stories about the breaking down of men, there in the stockyards of Chicago, and of what had happened to them afterward—stories to make your flesh creep, but Jurgis would only laugh. He had only been there four months, and he was young, and a giant besides. There was too much health in him. He could not even imagine how it would feel to be beaten. “That is well enough for men like you,” he would say, “silpnas, puny fellows—but my back is broad.”

Jurgis was like a boy, a boy from the country. He was the sort of man the bosses like to get hold of, the sort they make it a grievance they cannot get hold of. When he was told to go to a certain place, he would go there on the run. When he had nothing to do for the moment, he would stand round fidgeting, dancing, with the overflow of energy that was in him. If he were working in a line of men, the line always moved too slowly for him, and you could pick him out by his impatience and restlessness. That was why he had been picked out on one important occasion; for Jurgis had stood outside of Brown and Company's “Central Time Station” not more than half an hour, the second day of his arrival in Chicago, before he had been beckoned by one of the bosses. Of this he was very proud, and it made him more disposed than ever to laugh at the pessimists. In vain would they all tell him that there were men in that crowd from which he had been chosen who had stood there a month—yes, many months—and not been chosen yet. “Yes,” he would say, “but what sort of men? Broken-down tramps and good-for-nothings, fellows who have spent all their money drinking, and want to get more for it. Do you want me to believe that with these arms”—and he would clench his fists and hold them up in the air, so that you might see the rolling muscles—“that with these arms people will ever let me starve?”