作业 父亲钉扣子_父亲钉扣子
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It must have been hard work to keep up with the mending in our house.Four boys had to be kept in repair besides Father, and there was no special person to do it.The baby’s nurse did some sewing, and Cousin Julie turned to and did a lot when she was around, but the rest of it kept Mother busy and her work basket was always piled high.2 Looking back, I wonder now how she managed it.I remember her regularly going off to her room and sewing on something, right after dinner or at other idle moments, when she might have sat around with the rest of us.My impreion as a boy was that this was like going off to do puzzles---it was a form of amusement, or a woman’s way of paing the time.3 There was more talk about Father’s socks and shirts than anything else.Most of this talk was by Father, who didn’t like things to disappear for long periods, and who wanted them brought promptly back and put in his bureau drawer where they belonged.This was particularly true of his favorite socks.Not the plain white ones which he wore in the evening, because they were all alike, but the colored socks that were supplied to him by an English haberdasher in Paris.These colored socks were the one outlet of something in Father which ran contrary to that religion of propriety to which he adhered.In that day of somber hues for men ’s suit and quiet tones for men’s neckties, most socks were as dark and severe as the rest of one’s garments;but Father’s, hidden from the public eye by his trousers and high buttoned shoes, had a really astonishing range both of color and fancy.They were mostly in excellent taste, but in a distinctly French way, and Wilhelmine used to tease him about them.She called them his“secret joys”.4 Father got holes in his socks even oftener than we boys did in our stockings.He had long athletic toes, and when he lay stretched out on his sofa reading and smoking, or absorbed in talking to anyone, these toes would begin stretching and wiggling in a curious way by themselves, as though they were seizing on this chance to live a life of their own.I often stared in fascination at their leisurely twistings and turnings, when I should have been listening to Father’s instructions about far different matters.Soon one and then the other slipper would fall off, always to Father’s surprise, but without interrupting his talk, and a little later his busy great toe would peer out at me through a new hole in his sock.5 Mother felt that it was a woman’s duty to mend things and sew, but she hated it.She rather liked to embroider silk lambrequins, as a feat of womanly prowe, but her darning of Father’s socks was an impatient and not-too-skillful performance.She said there were so many of them that they made the back of her neck ache.6 Father’s heavily starched shirts too, were a problem.When he put one on, he pulled it down over his head, and thrust his arms blindly out right and left in a hunt for the sleeves.A new shirt was strong enough to survive these strains without splitting, but life with Father rapidly weakened it, and the first thing he knew he would hear it beginning to tear.That disgusted him.He hated any evidence of weakne, either in people or things.In his wrath he would strike out harder than ever as he felt around for the sleeve.Then would come a sharp crackling noise as the shirt ripped open, and a loud wail from Mother.7 Buttons were Father’s worst trial, however, from his point of view.Ripped shirts and socks with holes in them could still be worn, but drawers with their buttons off couldn’t.The speed with which he dreed seemed to discourage his buttons and make them desert Father’s service.Furthermore, they always gave out suddenly and at the wrong moment.8 He wanted help and he wanted it promptly at such times, of course.He would appear at Mother’s door with a waistcoat in one hand and a disloyal button in the other, demanding that it be sewn on at once.If she said she couldn’t just then, Father would get as indignant as though he had been drowning and a life-guard had informed him he would save him tomorrow.9 When his indignation mounted high enough to sweep aside his good judgment, he would say in a stern voice, “Very well, I will sew it on myself,” and demand a needle and thread.This announcement always caused consternation.Mother knew only too well what it meant.She would beg him to leave his waistcoat in her work basket and let her do it next day.Father was inflexible.Moreover his decision would be strengthened if he happened to glance at her basket and see how many of his socks were dismally waiting there in that crowed exile.10 “I’ve been looking for these blue polka-dotted socks for a month,” he said angrily one night before dinner.“Not a thing is done for a man in this house.I even have to sew on my own buttons.Where is your needle and thread?”Mother reluctantly gave these implements to him.He marched off, sat on the edge of his sofa in the middle of his bedroom, and got ready to work.The gaslight was better by his bureau, but he couldn’t sit on a chair when he sewed.It had no extra room on it.He laid his sciors, the pool of thread, and his waistcoat down on the sofa beside him, wet his fingers, held the needle high up and well out in front, and began poking thread at the eye.12 Like every commander, Father expected instant obedience, and he wished to deal with trained troops.The contrarine of the needle and the limp obstinacy of the thread made him swear.He stuck the needle in the sofa while he wet his fingers and stiffened the thread again.When he came to take up his needle, it had disappeared.He felt around everywhere for it.He got up, holding fast to his thread, and turned around, facing the sofa to see where it was hiding.This jerked the spool off onto the floor, where it rolled away and unwound.在我的家庭里一定要辛苦工作才能赶上缝补工作的进度。四个男孩不得不被
留下来和他们的父亲工作，因为不会再有其他特别的人来做这个了。照顾婴
儿的护士会做一些缝补工作，堂姐朱莉在的时候会轮换着做很多，但是剩余
下来的还是堆积如山，妈妈会因此而忙碌不已。
回想起来，我现在惊奇她是如何处理的。我记得她经常会到她的房间缝补东
西，或是在茶余饭后，或是坐在我们身边的时候。我作为一个小孩当时的印
象是：她的所作所为就像是我们小孩玩智力拼图游戏一样，这是一种娱乐方
式或者说是一个妇人打发时间的方式。
关于往事，没有什么比得上爸爸的袜子和衬衫这个话题更值得大谈特谈了。
爸爸不喜欢袜子和衬衫消失很长时间，即使消失了他也想要迅速地寻回并放
回到它们所应在的衣柜。这个特别体现在他最喜欢的袜子上。不是他在晚上
穿得那种朴素洁白看起来相似的袜子，而是一个在法国的英国服装经销商送
给他的色彩鲜艳的袜子。这些袜子是父亲反抗他所坚持的宗教标准的一种发
泄方式。在那时，男人们都是穿着色彩忧郁的西装和打着静色调的领带，大
多数的袜子也是和服装一样是透着严谨的黑色；然而父亲用长裤和高扣鞋子
掩盖他的鲜艳袜子，这样别人就看不到了，这在颜色和想象上都是令人吃惊 的。这些袜子都具有高雅的美，只不过明显是以法国的方式，威廉明妮过去
常常嘲讽父亲，所那些袜子是父亲秘密的快乐。
父亲的袜子破洞比我们这些小孩的还要频繁。他有着长的运动员的脚趾，当
他伸展开躺在沙发上读书和抽烟或者是沉浸在和别人交谈的时候，这些脚趾
就会开始以一种古怪的方式拉伸和摆动，好像是它们抓住这个机会来自己生
活。当我应该认真倾听父亲解释各种不同问题的时候，我经常会入迷般得凝
视着那些脚趾休闲地扭转。不久父亲的俩只拖鞋会相继滑落，父亲虽吃惊却
不会中断他的话头，再过一会他的拇指就会突破他的袜子并留下一个洞跑出
来显露在我的面前。
母亲会觉得缝补衣袜是一个妇人的责任，但是她讨厌父亲这种行为。他相当
喜欢刺绣以此作为一个妇人高超技术的功绩，但是当她缝补父亲的破袜子是
却表现得没有耐心和手忙脚乱。她自己抱怨说这些破袜子是如此之多以致于
她的脖子非常的酸痛。
父亲笨重硬挺的衬衫衣饰一大麻烦。当他穿衬衫的时候，他会将衬衫从头上
猛拉下来，接着盲目地左右乱插一通来寻找袖口。一件新衬衫有足够的强度
来抵抗住父亲的拉扯不至于被扯破，但是长此以往再好的衬衫也抵挡不住。
首先，他会听到衬衫似哭泣般破裂的声音，那令他非常的厌恶。他讨厌任何 的软弱，无论是人还是物。在他的愤怒下他会用比冲击袖口更大力度冲击衬
衫。然后就会传来衬衫被猛烈撕开的尖锐噪音，同时伴随母亲大声的悲号。然而，从父亲的观点来看，纽扣是他最糟糕的磨砺品。被撕碎的衬衫和破洞 的袜子对他来说只是用旧的还是可以穿的，但是带纽扣的衬裤则不是。父亲
对纽扣的磨损速度好像令他的纽扣非常的沮丧并想逃离对他的服务。此外，纽扣经常突然被磨损掉落在错误的时刻。
当然在这样的时刻，他想要补救并且想要纽扣马上补上。他会去寻找母亲，一只手拿着背心另外一只拿着对他不忠诚的纽扣，站在门口要求母亲将它马
上补上。如果她不马上答应，他会变得异常愤怒，就像是他溺水时朝人呼救，救生员却告知他明天再来救他。
当他的愤怒串高到足以不去理睬他的正确的判断，这时你会听到他坚定的声
音，“非常好，我会自己动手来缝补它，”且要求针线。父亲的这种宣告总 是会引起母亲的惊慌失措。因为她太清楚的知道那意味着什么。这时她会恳
求他将背心留在他的工作篮里，允诺明天会将它补好。父亲顽固的不可动摇
。如果他偶然看到母亲的篮子里有如此之多被他流放的破袜子在那里沉闷地
等待缝补，他的决定会更加的坚定。
一天晚上在晚餐之前，父亲生气地说到：“我已经寻找这些蓝色的并带有圆
点花纹的袜子整整一个月了。”他接着说到：“在这个家庭里没有一件事是
为我而做的，我甚至不得不自己来缝补我的纽扣。针线都在哪里呀？” 这时，母亲会不情愿地将针线给他。他拿到之后会坐在他的卧室中间的沙发 的边缘开始准备缝补工作。他的办公桌上的煤气灯更好，但是当他缝补时他
不会坐在椅子上。因为他没有额外的空间来放置缝补工具。他先放好他的剪
刀，并开始经营线，他的背心在他的旁边沿着沙发垂落，接着沾湿他的手指，将针举高在他前面放好，然后开始专心的穿针引线。
像指挥官一样，父亲期望针线能像训练有素的军队般对他是立即绝对的服从
。然而针的反对和线的无力的顽抗令他咒骂不止。他会将针插在沙发上当他
重新弄湿他的手指来硬化线时。然而当他完成硬化线后想拿起针时，针消失
不见了。这时他会到处寻找。他猛地起身紧急抓住线条，然后转身，面对着
沙发想看出针到底藏在哪里。这个剧烈的动作使得线轴掉落在地滚出老远后
散开。The husbands of two of Mother’s friends had had fits of apoplexy and died.It frightened her horribly when this seemed about to happen to Father.At the sound of his roars, she rushed in.There he was on the floor, as she had feared.He was trying to get his head under the sofa and he was yelling at something, and his face was such a dark red and his eyes so blood-shot that Mother was terrified.Pleading with him to stop only made him more apoplectic.He said he’d be damned if he’d stop.He stood up presently, tousled but triumphant, the spool in his hand.Mother ran to get a new needle.She threaded it for him and he at last started sewing.14 Father sewed on the button in a violent manner, with vicious hauling and jabs.Mother said she couldn’t bear to see him----but she couldn’t bear to leave the room, either.She stood watching him, hypnotized and appalled, itching to sew it herself, and they talked at each other with vehemence.Then the inevitable accident happened: the needle came forcibly up through the waistcoat, it struck on the button, Father pushed at it harder, and it burst through the hole and stuck Father’s finger.15 He sprang up with a howl.To be impaled in this way was not only exasperating, it was an affront.He turned to me, as he strode about on the rug, holding onto his finger and said wrathfully, “It was your mother.” “Why, Clare!” Mother cried.17 “Talking every minute,” Father shouted at her, “and distracting a man!How the devil can I sew on a button with this gibbering and buzz in my ears? Now see what you me do!” he added suddenly.“Blood on my good waistcoat!Here!Take the damned thing.Give me a handkerchief to tie up my finger with.Where ’s the witch-hazel?”
--------from Life with Father by Clarence Day
鉴赏和评析：
首先讲下我之所以选择《父亲钉纽扣》，是因为老师在上课的时候已经给我们看过《雾都孤儿》的视频，这使得我对其有了一定的了解，所以我选择《父亲钉纽扣》，在翻译之前先不了解作者和这本书的背景，而是单纯的阅读后翻译。
我先是择其一段来试图翻译，有些段落很简单可以翻译，有些段落则让人有点云里雾里的感觉，加上有生词不懂，所以就选择通篇来读。我先是通篇浏览了一遍，对大体情节有了一定的认识（包含一些推测，因为生僻的动词太多），接着借助有道词典将生词的意思了解了下，才开始着手翻译（如上译文）。
我觉得吧，这篇文章叙述的是我们平时生活中再琐碎不过的生活场景，可让人读来却觉得透着一股情趣，丝毫没有无聊无味之感，这些都得助于作者对动词的巧妙运用，对细节细致入微的刻画和对人物性格的塑造。主人公父亲的刻画更是惟妙惟肖，一连串动词的并排运用，富有声感和冲击力，这加强了对父亲性格的渲染力度，同时也使得场景情节生动化，读来让来有历历在目之感；同时长句短句的交叉运用，更是使得文章显得跌宕起伏，富有层次感；再者就是文章层层相扣，整体力度强……
说明：之所以翻译这么些段落，是我认为此文章为一个整体，攫取单段来翻译就会显得没有生趣和失去了文章本该有的色彩
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