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一床双人毛毯 The Blanket

更新时间:2012-06-16    来源/发布:www.en369.cn    作者/编辑:英语作文网

The Blanket

By Floyd Dell

Floyd Dell, born June 28, 1887, Barry, Ill., U.S. died July 23, 1969, Bethesda, Md. novelist and radical journalist whose fiction examined the changing mores in sex and politics among American bohemians before and after World War I. A precocious poet, Dell grew up in an impoverished family and left high school at age 16 to work in a factory. Moving to Chicago in 1908, he worked as a newspaperman and soon was a leader of the city's advanced literary movement. He became assistant editor of the Friday Literary Review of the Evening Post in 1909 and editor in 1911, making it one of the most noted American literary supplements. As a critic, he furthered the careers of Sherwood Anderson and Theodore Dreiser. A socialist since his youth, he moved to New York in 1914 and was associate editor of the left-wing The Masses until 1917. Dell was on the staff of The Liberator, which succeeded The Masses, from 1918 to 1924. His first and best novel, the largely autobiographical Moon-Calf, appeared in 1920, and its sequel, The Briary-Bush, in 1921. Homecoming, an autobiography taking him to his 35th year, was published in 1933. His other novels on life among the unconventional include Janet March (1923), Runaway (1925), and Love in Greenwich Village (1926)。 His nonfiction includes Were You Ever a Child? (1919), on child-rearing; the biography Upton Sinclair: A Study in Social Protest (1927); and Love in the Machine Age (1930), which presented his views on sex. Little Accident, a play written with Thomas Mitchell and based on Dell's novel An Unmarried Father (1927), was successfully produced in 1928. Dell joined the Federal Writers Project and moved to Washington, D.C., in the late 1930s as an official for the project. He continued in government work after the project ended, until his retirement in 1947.

Petey hadn‘t really believed that Dad would be doing It — sending Granddad away. “Away” was what they were calling it.Not until now could he believe it of his father.

But here was the blanket that Dad had bought for Granddad, and in the morning he‘d be going away. This was the last evening they’d be having together. Dad was off seeing that girl he was to marry. He would not be back till late, so Petey and Granddad could sit up and talk.

It was a fine September night, with a silver moon riding high. They washed up the supper dishes and then took their chairs out onto the porch. “I‘ll get my fiddle,” said the old man, “and play you some of the old tunes.”

But instead of the fiddle he brought out the blanket. It was a big double blanket, red with black stripes.

“Now, isn‘t that a fine blanket!” said the old man, smoothing it over his knees. “And isn’t your father a kind man to be giving the old fellow a blanket like that to go away with? It cost something, it did—look at the wool of it! There‘ll be few blankets there the equal of this one!”

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Blanket

毛毯

双人

一床

the

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