這兩天最得意的事是：利用零碎時間看完了Sharon Creech 的 Walk Two
Moons!
這本紐伯瑞德獎作品講的是一個十三歲女孩的啟蒙小說，透過她講述發生在同學家裏的故事給祖父母聽的過程發現自己的成長。這樣的故事當然有點老套，不過印地安背景在祖父開車帶女孩去找她媽媽的路途中慢慢浮現。最後她理解了父母的大人世界，也偷偷洩露她自己的淡淡愛情故事。
故事題目的意思是：評斷別人之前，先穿他的鹿皮靴走個兩個月再說！
我不會再透露更多內容了！有興趣自己去看吧！這種智慧藏在字裡行間，用字簡潔美麗，內容說破就乾掉了。
會哭的喲！
(附上第一章。萬一侵權就刪掉。)
Walk Two Moons
By Sharon Creech
http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbninquiry.asp?ean=9780064405171&displayonly=CHP&z=y#CHP
Chapter One
A Face at the Window
Gramps says that I am a country girl at heart, and that is true. I have
lived most of my thirteen years in Bybanks, Kentucky, which is not much
more than a caboodle of houses roosting in a green spot alongside the
Ohio River. just over a year ago, my father plucked me up like a weed
and took me and all our belongings (no, that is not true--he did not bring
the chestnut tree, the willow, the maple, the hayloft, or the swimming
hole, which all belonged to me) and we drove three hundred miles straight
north and stopped in front of a house in Euclid, Ohio.
”No trees?” I said. ”This is where we’re going to live?”
”No,” my father said. ”This is Margaret’s house.”
The front door of the house opened and a lady with wild red hair stood
there. I looked up and down the street. The houses were all jammed together
like a row of birdhouses. In front of each house was a tiny square of grass,
and in front of that was a thin gray sidewalk running alongside a gray road.
”Where’s the barn?” I asked. ”The river? The swimming hole?”
”Oh, Sal,” my father said. ”Come on. There’s Margaret.” He waved to the lady at the door.
”We have to go back. I forgot something.”
The lady with the wild red hair opened the door and came out onto the porch.
”In the back of my closet,” I said, under the floorboards. I put something
there, and I’ve got to have it.”
”Don’t be a goose. Come and see Margaret.”
I did not want to see Margaret. I stood there, looking around, and that’s
when I saw the face pressed up against an upstairs window next door. It was
a round girl’s face, and it looked afraid. Ididn’t know it then, but that
face belonged to Phoebe Winterbottom, a girl who had a powerful imagination,
who would become my friend, and who would have many peculiar things happen
to her.
Not long ago, when I was locked in a car with my grandparents for six days,
I told them the story of Phoebe, and when I finished telling them--or maybe
even as I was telling them--I realized that the story of Phoebe was like
the plaster wall in our old house in Bybanks, Kentucky.
My father started chipping away at a plaster wall in the living room of our
house in Bybanks shortly after my mother left us one April morning. Our house
was an old farmhouse that my parents had been restoring, room by room.
Each night as he waited to hear from my mother, he chipped away at that wall.
On the night that we got the bad news--that she was not returning--he
pounded and pounded, on that wall with a chisel and a hammer. At two o’clock
in the morning, he came up to my room. I was not asleep. He led me downstairs
and showed me what he had found. Hidden behind the wall was a brick
fireplace.
The reason that Phoebe’s story reminds me of that plaster wall and the hidden
fireplace is that beneath Phoebe’s story was another one. Mine.
ISBN: 0064405176
ISBN-13: 9780064405171
Format: Paperback, 280pp
Publisher: HarperCollins Children’s Books
Edition Number: 1
Sales Rank: 1,819
Age Range: 12 and up
