书名：Cathedral大教堂

作者：Raymond Carver雷蒙德·卡佛
出版社名称：Vintage
出版时间：1989
语种：英文
ISBN：9780679723691
商品尺寸：13 x 1.6 x 20.3 cm
包装：平装
页数：240
Cathedral《大教堂》是美国短篇小说大师雷蒙德·卡佛公认的成熟之作，收入大部分名篇：《大教堂》入选《美国短篇小说选》，《好事一小件》获“欧·亨利小说奖”第1名，《发烧》入选《美国短篇小说杰作选》。

故事多数平常：小夫妇没生出孩子以至生活灰暗；生日蛋糕早好了，被撞伤的孩子却在父母等待中悄然离去；卖维他命的女人为生意焦虑，丈夫则觊觎着她的同伴……小说常有意想不到的结尾。卡佛以一种悠长的凝视直面无望。他被尊为简约文学的典范，生活把他的人物剥了个精光，而他把自己的文字削到嶙峋。
《大教堂》中仍有卡佛早期作品的无奈和冷硬，但是，他把自己那扇一直尘封的天窗推开一条缝隙，洒下了些许光亮。
Raymond Carver's third collection of stories, a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, including the canonical titular story about blindness and learning to enter the very different world of another. These twelve stories mark a turning point in Carver's work and “overflow with the danger, excitement, mystery and possibility of life.... Carver is a writer of astonishing compassion and honesty.... his eye set only on describing and revealing the world as he sees it. His eye is so clear, it almost breaks your heart” (Jonathan Yardley, Washington Post Book World).

Review
“A dozen stories that overflow with the danger, excitement, mystery and possibility of life... Carver is a writer of astonishing compassion and honesty... his eye set only on describing and revealing the world as he sees it. His eye is so clear; it almost breaks your heart.”  — Jonathan Yardley,Washington Post Book World

“Cathedral contains astonishing achievements, which bespeaks a writer expanding his range of intentions.”  —The Boston Globe

“A few of Mr. Carver’s stories can already be counted among the masterpieces of American fiction... Cathedral shows a gifted writer struggling for a larger scope of reference, a finer touch of nuance.”  — Irving Howe, front page,The New York Times Book Review

“Clear, hard language so right that we shiver at the knowledge we gain from it.”  — Thomas Williams,Chicago Tribune Book World

“Carver is more than a realist; there is, in some of his stories, a strangeness, the husk of a myth.”  —Los Angeles Times
Cathedral《大教堂》是近年美国杰出的短篇小说家雷蒙德•卡佛被公认的成熟之作，获得普利策奖提名，包括12个短篇:《羽毛》《瑟夫的房子》《保鲜》《软座包厢》《好事一小件》《维他命》《小心》《我打电话的地方》《火车》《发烧》《马笼头》《大教堂》。卡佛的作品致力于描摹美国平民的生活，表现小人物日常生活的变质，表现普通人被生活折磨得遍体鳞伤后的孤独与沉默。

雷蒙德.卡佛（1938-1988），美国当代著名短篇小说家、诗人，美国“极简主义”代表作家，并被誉为“新小说”创始者。1938年5月25日出生于俄勒冈州克拉斯坎尼镇，1988年8月2日因肺癌去世。高中毕业后，即养家糊口艰难谋生，业余学习写作。卡佛人生的前一半充满了苦难与失望。失业，酗酒，破产，妻离子散，友人背弃，坠入人生之谷底。晚年文学声名渐高，却罹患肺癌，五十岁便英年早逝。卡佛的作品风格和他自身经历密切相关，精简冷硬。他不是用天才来写作，而是呕心沥血的写作。卡佛一生作品以短篇小说和诗为主，代表作有《请你安静一下好不好？》《当我们谈论爱情时我们在谈论什么》《大教堂》《何方来电》等。

Raymond Carverwas born in Clatskanie, Oregon, in 1938. His first collection of stories, Will You Please Be Quiet, Please (a National Book Award nominee in 1977), was followed by What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, Cathedral (nominated for the Pulitzer Prize in 1984), and Where I’m Calling From in 1988, when he was inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Letters. He died August 2, 1988, shortly after completing the poems of A New Path to the Waterfall.
Feathers羽毛

Chef’s House瑟夫的房子
Preservation保鲜
The Compartment软座包厢
A Small, Good Thing好事一小件
Vitamins维他命
Careful小心
Where I’m Calling From我打电话的地方
The Train火车
Fever发烧
The Bridle马笼头
Cathedral大教堂
THIS friend of mine from work, Bud, he asked Fran and me to supper. I didn’t know his wife and he didn’t know Fran. That made us even. But Bud and I were friends. And I knew there was a little baby at Bud’s house. That baby must have been eight months old when Bud asked us to supper. Where’d those eight months go? Hell, where’s the time gone since? I remember the day Bud came to work with a box of cigars. He handed them out in the lunchroom. They were drugstore cigars. Dutch Masters. But each cigar had a red sticker on it and a wrapper that said IT’S A BOY! I didn’t smoke cigars, but I took one anyway. “Take a couple,” Bud said. He shook the box. “I don’t like cigars either. This is her idea.” He was talking about his wife. Olla.

I’d never met Bud’s wife, but once I’d heard her voice over the telephone. It was a Saturday afternoon, and I didn’t have anything I wanted to do. So I called Bud to see if he wanted to do anything. This woman picked up the phone and said, “Hello. “ I blanked and couldn’t remember her name. Bud’s wife. Bud had said her name to me any number of times. But it went in one ear and out the other. “Hello!” the woman said again. I could hear a TV going. Then the woman said, “Who is this?” I heard a baby start up. “Bud!” the woman called. “What?” I heard Bud say. I still couldn’t remember her name. So I hung up. The next time I saw Bud at work I sure as hell didn’t tell him I’d called. But I made a point of getting him to mention his wife’s name. “Olla,” he said. Olla, I said to myself. Olla.
“No big deal,” Bud said. We were in the lunchroom drinking coffee. “Just the four of us. You and your missus, and me and Olla. Nothing fancy. Come around seven. She feeds the baby at six. She’ll put him down after that, and then we’ll eat. Our place isn’t hard to find. But here’s a map. “He gave me a sheet of paper with all kinds of lines indicating major and minor roads, lanes and such, with arrows pointing to the four poles of the compass. A large X marked the location of his house. I said, “We’re looking forward to it.” But Fran wasn’t too thrilled.
That evening, watching TV, I asked her if we should take anything to Bud’s.
“Like what?” Fran said. “Did he say to bring something? How should I know? I don’t have any idea. She shrugged and gave me this look. She’d heard me before on the subject of Bud. But she didn’t know him and she wasn’t interested in knowing him. “We could take a bottle of wine, ” she said. “But I don’t care. Why don’t you take some wine?” She shook her head. Her long hair swung back and forth over her shoulders. Why do we need other people? She seemed to be saying. We have each other. “Come here, ” I said. She moved a little closer so I could hug her. Fran’s a big tall drink of water. She has this blond hair that hangs down her back. I picked up some of her hair and sniffed t. I wound my hand in her hair. She let me hug her. I put my face right up in her hair and hugged her some more.
Sometimes when her hair gets in her way she has to pick it up arid push it over her shoulder. She gets mad at it. “This hair, ” she says. “Nothing but trouble.” Fran works in a creamery and has to wear her hair up when she goes to work. She has to wash it every night and take a brush to it when we’re sitting in front of the TV. Now and then she threatens to cut it off. But I don t think she’d do that. She knows I like it too much. She knows I’m crazy about it. I tell her I fell in love with her because of her hair. I tell her I might stop loving her if she cut it. Sometimes I call her “Swede. She could pass for a Swede. Those times together in the evening she’d brush her hair and we’d wish out loud for things we didn’t have. We wished for a new car, that’s one of the things we wished for. And we wished we could spend a couple of weeks in Canada. But one thing we didn’t wish for was kids. The reason we didn’t have kids was that we didn’t want kids. Maybe sometime, we said to each other. But right then, we were waiting. We thought we might keep on waiting. Some nights we went to a movie. Other nights we just stayed in and watched TV. Sometimes Fran baked things for me and we’d eat whatever it was all in a sitting.