Charles Frazier described the southern scenery admirably and beautifully. He wrote an excellent novel, an amazing new york map review.
A good reading tells an epic story during the war and introduces a lot of historical materials.
Enjoy it beautifully, and you will find that the Chinese characters will stay in your mind for a long time.
The beauty is heartbreaking, and the elegance of the narrative is equally convincing. Cold Mountain is the best war novel style after Michael Salad Killer. It is comparable to Shelby Ford. This novel is qualified for today’s award. It is the greatest achievement in American literary history-Kai Jipeng.
This novel is so great that I can imagine those who couldn’t have dreamed of reading it before. I think it will affect my reading every time in the future. It is so perfect that I may never want to read it again. Cold Mountain is the most brilliant achievement in American literature-Rick Bass.
Charles Fraser’s novels are simple but meaningful. They are a magnificent picture slowly unfolding, with a touch of a desperate figure and a soldier struggling to escape from a ruined world. Inman’s warm moments surrounded by too much sorrow are both real and touching. When Ida said that she wanted to tell him how she became what she is today, that kind of repressed expression is not uncommon in the cold mountains. It is almost heartbreaking and then the ending is even more heartbreaking. An Bidi.
Charles Frazier Cold Mountain is the most wonderful virgin I have read for a long time. Its narrative is grand, and it creates vivid characters. Its writing skill is extraordinary, which makes people want to stop reading. Although the background is chosen during the war, in the deepest sense, it points to the contemporary farewell. Weapons echo William Miles from a distance.
Dedicated to Catherine Anne
It’s hard to believe that there is a terrible war going on in the quiet Woods and smiling fields
Extract Darwin’s diary 1839
People ask that Hanshan Road is impassable.
Hanshan, a poet of Tang Dynasty in China
Wuyuying
At the first light of the morning, the flies started to stir up. Inman’s neck was long, and his eyes became the target of public criticism. It was better to wake up a rooster all over the hospital than these flies buzzed their wings, their legs and feet touched Inman’s eyes and ushered in a new day in the ward. His eyes crossed the foot of the bed and looked at the three-story landing window. Usually, he could see the red clay road, oak trees and low brick walls outside the window. Far away, it was a wide stretch to the western sky. Pine Forest Hospital was built on the only high slope of vision. As far as it is concerned, the view
It’s not too dark. Inman can watch the passing time until breakfast. He is reading, which is quite soothing. But last night, trouble sleeping burned out the last candle. The hospital lamp oil is scarce. He must not light the lamp for entertainment and boil the oil. Naiman has to wear good clothes and sit in a ladder-type armchair, leaving the sick and sick in the room behind. He once again waved his arm to catch flies and stared at the first touch in the morning fog, waiting for the outline of the world outside the window.
The window is as high as a door. In his imagination, he stepped from there many times and walked into another world. In the first few weeks of hospitalization, he could hardly move his head. He just looked out of the window and sketched out his hometown from memory. Those childhood places grew crystal orchids and wet small banks. Every autumn, black and brown caterpillars liked the grass best. A thick branch of hickory tree slanted to the path. He often climbed to see his father driving the cattle from the sunset to the bullpen. He would close his eyes and listen to the cattle hoof trampling on the dust. It is obvious that the window will bring his thoughts back to the past, because he has seen the terrible and hard-faced future of the times. In his imagination, it can be a world in which everything he thinks is important is abandoned or actively soared.
The window has been alone for a summer, and the air is extremely hot and humid. No matter day or night, the mouth is like a rag. The newly changed sheets will soon smell bad and put on the bedside table overnight, and the pages will collapse and give birth to tiny black mold. Inman wants to stare for a long time. The long gray window is afraid that he has finally said everything, but this morning he was surprised again that a long forgotten memory came from the window.
Sitting next to Inman in the classroom, a similar long window crosses the meadow outside the window, and the low green ridge is stacked higher and higher, and the main vein of the cold mountain rises directly. It is a September soil playground, and the grass is waist-high and the grass ear is yellow. The teacher should be cut off. He is a short white gourd bald face. His worn-out suit and a pair of old boots are worn as thin as a blade. He looks like a wedge. He shakes his body in front of the classroom for an afternoon and talks about history to the older students about what happened in ancient England.
After turning a deaf ear for a while, the young Inman took the hat from the bottom of the table, pinched the hat’s brim wrist, shook it and spun it out of the window. He was taken off by an air lift and landed on the edge of the grass. It was as dark as a crow’s shadow. The teacher saw Inman’s small move and told him to take it back, and then he was happy to be beaten. Inman really didn’t know what fascinated him at this moment. He walked out the door and tilted his hat toward his head and stepped forward and never came back.
At dawn, the window lit up, and the memory gradually faded away. The man next to Inman sat up and moved to the window with crutches as usual, coughing up thick phlegm out of the window until the savings in his lungs were clear. He combed his hair, and his black straight hair hung down to his jaw and cut it into a neat circle around his neck. He smoothed his long hair behind his ear, even in the twilight, he still wore brown glasses. His eyes were too weak to stand the faint light, and then he sat at the table in his pajamas, facing piles of paper workers. This man rarely spoke more than a word. Inman’s understanding of him is limited to knowing that his name was in Chapel Hill, North Carolina before barris War. Now, apart from sleeping, he comes to translate thick and small things that are old and unknown into straightforward words that everyone can understand. He sits at his desk with his face a few inches away and keeps twisting in his chair to find a comfortable posture for his legs. His right foot was blown off by a grape bomb in the Battle of Cold Harbor, and the residual limb seems to be deliberately unwilling to recover. He has been amputated from his ankle to his knee for many times. Whenever he smells like an old ham.
After a while, I listened to barris’s pen, hair brush and paper flipping sound, and then others woke up one after another. In a cough, there were a few groans, and finally the seams of the wallboard were polished. Even the flies on the ceiling could be clearly seen. Inman tilted his chair and leaned back, counting that he counted 63.
The scenery outside the window gradually became clear. First, it was the black trunk of oak, then the mottled lawn, and finally the red path. He was waiting for the blind trolley. Now that Inman has been observing him for several weeks, he is determined to go to the trolley and have a chat. He feels that he has been troubled by injuries for too long.
Inman was wounded in the battle outside Petersburg. Two comrades around him stripped off their clothes and looked at his neck. It is estimated that our life will be lost. We will meet again in a better world. They solemnly said goodbye that unexpectedly, he had been in a field hospital, and the doctors had no hope of putting him into a mortal category and putting him aside on a canvas bed to die. But he didn’t die two days later, because there were too many wounded people, he was transferred back to a conventional hospital in his own state. The train journey south was miserable. In a dirty and chaotic field hospital, he was fighting in a carriage full of wounded soldiers. Friends, like doctors, have always believed that they will die. During this journey, he can remember that everything is sultry and smells of blood and feces. Many wounded people are still having diarrhea, and they have spared no effort to smash their heads in the wooden carriage wall to breathe. The breeze outside is like poultry in a basket.
When he arrived, the doctors looked at him. He was as helpless as the injury. Maybe he could live. Maybe he couldn’t. They gave him a gray cloth and a small washbasin to clean his wound. In the first few days, when he was sober enough, he wiped his neck with a cloth until the water in the basin turned into the color of a cock comb. But the most important thing was that the wound vomited a lot of things, a collar and a button. When he was hit, he wore a shirt and a fur collar, a piece of soft gray metal the size of a nickel, and the most incredible thing was that one looked like it. He put it on the bed for a few days and studied it for a few days. After all, he could determine whether it was a part of his body or not. When he finally threw it out of the window, he had some strange dreams that it took root and grew into a monster as big as a bean.
The wound finally made up his mind to heal, but at first he could neither turn his head nor read for a few weeks. Inman lay in bed every day and looked at the blind man. Soon after dawn, he would push his car along the road and hardly look blind. He set up a few stones at the bottom of an oak tree across the road to form a simple stove. He lit a fire to cook peanuts in an iron pot. One day, he sat back against a brick wall and sold peanut newspapers to patients who were able to walk in the hospital. Unless someone came to buy something, he would put his hands on his legs like a dummy.
In Inman’s eyes, the world was a window frame that summer. An ancient painting often went on for a long time, but there was little change in front of him. A road, a wall, a tree, a car and a blind man slowly counted in his heart to see how long it would take for the picture to change a little. This is a game. He has set his own rules that a bird flies by, not counting people passing along the road, but the sky changes and the rain counts. But in the past, clouds and shadows don’t count for a few days. Now he believes that this painting will stay in his heart forever, and the wall is blind. No matter how long he can live, he imagines that he is an old man and is still thinking about it. The combination of scenery in his painting seems to reveal some meaning, but he doesn’t know what it is, and I’m afraid he will never know.
Inman’s breakfast was oatmeal butter. He ate it and looked out of the window. Soon he saw a blind cart coming. His waist arched and turned the wheel to raise two small pieces of dust. When he lit the fire and cooked peanuts, Inman put the plate on the windowsill and came outside. Like an old man, Inman staggered across the lawn and walked towards the path.
Blind, very strong, broad-chested, round breeches with a big belt around his waist, a razor belt so wide, and he didn’t wear a hat in hot weather. He had short hair, gray hair and thick hair, and his hair was as rough as short broom bristles. He sat there with his head leaning forward as if he were meditating. Inman looked up as if he could really see him when he approached the blind horse, but his eyelids got stuck in wrinkled eye sockets and he was as angry as shoes.
Inman didn’t stop to say hello and just asked who dug your eyes.
Blind face, friendly smile, no one, I never have eyes.
Inman was taken aback, because in his imagination, he had decided that they must have been gouged out in a crazy and bloody conflict at a moment of animal hair. Recently, he witnessed that every scandal was in the hands of human beings, and he almost forgot that there was another kind of misfortune.
How can it never be? Inman asked
Born this way.
Ah, Inman said that you are really calm, especially for a person like you, who is regarded by most people as a generation living in misfortune.
Nonsense. I’m lucky to have seen the world and then lost it. Isn’t that worse?
Maybe, Inman said, but now I give you ten minutes to give you eyes. What are you willing to give for it? I guess it won’t be a decimal.
The man thought about it for a moment, licking his tongue and licking his mouth. He said that I didn’t want an Indian head for a copper coin. I was afraid it would fill my heart with resentment.
This is my feeling that Inman said too many things that I wish I had never seen.
I didn’t mean that. When you said one minute, I meant gain and lose.
Blindly roll a piece of newsprint into a tube, put a small colander into the pot and fill the paper tube with boiled peanuts. He handed the peanuts to Inman and told me something you wish you had never seen before.
Where should I start? Inman thinks that what happened in Petersburg, Fort Shipes, Molwenshan is enough to make people white. What is terrible? But on the day of the Battle of Fort fredericks, he especially lingered in his heart, so that he sat back against the oak tree and squeezed the peanut shell with his thumb into his mouth to tell his story blindly.
The morning mist dispersed, and a huge army suddenly appeared, heading for the mountain, behind a stone wall, and advancing below the surface path. Inman was ordered to help the troops already behind the stone wall in the regiment, and they quickly lined up in front of the white house at the top of Maiese Heights. General Li longstreet had a hat and feathers, and Stewart was talking on the lawn in front of the porch and taking a telescope to look across the river. longstreet was wearing a gray wool shawl, and the other two were together. He looked like a strong pig, but from Inman’s understanding of General Li’s tactics, he definitely preferred to be in Lang. Although streeter’s hand-to-hand combat looks stupid, he is always looking for terrain that is conducive to defense, so that soldiers can hide behind their positions in relative safety and kill, while the battle in Fort fredericks was always carried out in this way, which is suitable for longstreet’s roads but not Li.
Inman’s team has crossed the ridge and entered the fierce fire range of the Union Army. They stopped to volley once in the middle, and then rushed into the concave road behind the stone wall. On the way, a bullet flew close to Inman’s wrist and felt like a cat’s tongue licked and scratched a small piece of skin.
Into the path, Inman Ma wanted to see the terrain very much. The advance troops had dug trenches along the solid stone wall, even if they were straight, they would not be exposed. If the northern troops wanted to rush to the stone wall, they had to cross a large open area first. A soldier jumped over the wall and shouted excitedly, "You are all making mistakes."
It was very cold, and the mud on the road almost froze. Some people were barefoot, and many people’s military uniforms were made by their own families and dyed with plant pigments. They lined up on the opposite side of the battlefield. The northern army troops were all dressed in brand-new military uniform boots produced by the factory. When they charged the mountain, the soldiers behind the stone wall held down the fire and taunted them. One of them shouted, "Come closer, I want your boots." They asked the northern Coalition forces to put them down until 20 paces away. It was too close. It was a pity that a soldier said that one piece of paper was wrapped in bullets. The powder pellets and
Inman’s ears were full of guns when he was squatting to load bullets, but he also hit the body sound. A person next to him may be too nervous or overtired, and he forgot to take the bullet rod out of the barrel and shoot it into the chest of a northern soldier. The man pushed the bullet rod backwards on his back and stuck it vertically in his body. With the last breath, he shook like an arrow without a feather.
One day, every time thousands of people in the northern army took turns to attack the stone wall, three or four brick houses were scattered in the battlefield. It didn’t take long for a large number of soldiers to hide behind the house, like throwing a long blue shadow on the back of the house. From time to time, they rode over like a teacher beating the buttocks of fleeing children, slashing them from the back of the house like a sabre, and then seeing them shrink their heads and lean towards the stone wall. This gesture reminded many people on the scene that day that the fun of marching against the wind and raining was long gone, and the northern army hated them because they were stupid enough to die.
The war is going on like a dream, and countless powerful enemies are coming at you, but you are weak. However, they fall down one by one until they are completely defeated. Inman keeps burning his right arm and pulling the ejector rod repeatedly, and his jaw is tired, and his long gun is sore because of continuous biting on the bottom cover of the paper cartridge case. When he was hot, he burned for a day before loading the pellet powder. In the past, the faces of people around him were smoked into different shades of blue by the back flame of the gun barrel, reminding Inman of seeing a great ape bulging his ass during a tour performance.
One day, they were all fighting behind the wall under Li longstreet’s nose, and the soldiers could see that they were supervising the war. Two big men and two generals spent an afternoon at the top of the mountain, each showing his magic and saying some humorous and beautiful words. longstreet said that he was placed in the defensive position of the concave road, and even if the Potomac army men came over, it would be impossible for one of them to come to the stone wall alive. He also said that the northern army fell dead in the long afternoon just like rain from the eaves