Gone with the Wind《飘》以美国南北战争为背景，主线是好强、任性的庄园主小姐斯佳丽纠缠在几个男人之间的爱恨情仇，与之相伴的还有社会、历史的重大变迁，旧日熟悉的一切都一去不返……既是一首人类爱情的绝唱，又是一幅反映社会政治、经济、道德诸多方面巨大而深刻变化的宏大历史画卷。
Set against the dramatic backdrop of the American Civil War, Margaret Mitchell’s magnificent historical epic is an unforgettable tale of love and loss, of a nation mortally divided and a people forever changed. Above all, it is the story of beautiful, ruthless Scarlett O’Hara and the dashing soldier of fortune, Rhett Butler.
Since its first publication in 1936, Gone With the Wind has endured as a story for all our times
Gone With the Wind《飘》是美国女作家玛格丽特 米切尔创作的一部具有浪漫主义色彩、反映美国南北战争的小说，也是经典影片《乱世佳人》的原著。《飘》一经问世便成为畅销的美国小说，凄婉动人的爱情传奇，被誉为“人类爱情的绝唱”，被列为世界十大小说名著之一。1937年获得普利策奖和美国出版商协会奖。
推荐理由：
1. 经典爱情巨著，美国20世纪杰出的文学作品之一；
2.“影响世界的100本书”、“一生必读的60部名著”推荐书目；
3. 英文原版，内容完整无删节，本版本由美国作家Pat Conroy作序。
Margaret Mitchell’s epic novel of love and war won the Pulitzer Prize and went on to give rise to two authorized sequels and one of the most popular and celebrated movies of all time.
Many novels have been written about the Civil War and its aftermath. None take us into the burning fields and cities of the American South as Gone With the Wind does, creating haunting scenes and thrilling portraits of characters so vivid that we remember their words and feel their fear and hunger for the rest of our lives.
In the two main characters, the white-shouldered, irresistible Scarlett and the flashy, contemptuous Rhett, Margaret Mitchell not only conveyed a timeless story of survival under the harshest of circumstances, she also created two of the most famous lovers in the English-speaking world since Romeo and Juliet.
玛格丽特 米切尔(Margaret Mitchell)，美国现代有名女作家。1900年11月8日出生于佐治亚州的亚特兰大。曾获文学博士学位，担任过《亚特兰大新闻报》的记者。1937年她因长篇小说《飘》获得普利策奖。1939年获纽约南方协会金质奖章。1949年，她在车祸中罹难。她短暂的一生并未留下太多的作品，但只一部《飘》足以奠定她在世界文学史中不可动摇的地位。
Margaret Mitchell was born in Atlanta, Georgia, the daughter of an attorney who was president of the Atlanta Historical Society. She married in 1925, and spent the following ten years putting down on paper the stories she had heard about the Civil War. The result was Gone With the Wind, first published in 1936. It won the Pulitzer price, sold over ten million copies, was translated into eighteen languages and was later made into one of the best-loved films of all time starring Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable. This book, a record bestseller, was her only published work. She died in 1949.
Scarlett O’Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were. In her face were too sharply blended the delicate features of her mother, a Coast aristocrat of French descent, and the heavy ones of her florid Irish father. But it was an arresting face, pointed of chin, square of jaw. Her eyes were pale green without a touch of hazel, starred with bristly black lashes and slightly tilted at the ends. Above them, her thick black brows slanted upward, cutting a startling oblique line in her magnolia-white skin — that skin so prized by Southern women and so carefully guarded with bonnets, veils and mittens against hot Georgia suns.
Seated with Stuart and Brent Tarleton in the cool shade of the porch of Tara, her father’s plantation, that bright April afternoon of 1861, she made a pretty picture. Her new green flowered-muslin dress spread its twelve yards of billowing material over her hoops and exactly matched the flat-heeled green morocco slippers her father had recently brought her from Atlanta. The dress set off to perfection the seventeen-inch waist, the smallest in three counties, and the tightly fitting basque showed breasts well matured for her sixteen years. But for all the modesty of her spreading skirts, the demureness of hair netted smoothly into a chignon and the quietness of small white hands folded in her lap, her true self was poorly concealed. The green eyes in the carefully sweet face were turbulent, willful, lusty with life, distinctly at variance with her decorous demeanor. Her manners had been imposed upon her by her mother’s gentle admonitions and the sterner discipline of her mammy; her eyes were her own.
On either side of her, the twins lounged easily in their chairs, squinting at the sunlight through tall mint-garnished glasses as they laughed and talked, their long legs, booted to the knee and thick with saddle muscles, crossed negligently. Nineteen years old, six feet two inches tall, long of bone and hard of muscle, with sunburned faces and deep auburn hair, their eyes merry and arrogant, their bodies clothed in identical blue coats and mustard-colored breeches, they were as much alike as two bolls of cotton.
Outside, the late afternoon sun slanted down in the yard, throwing into gleaming brightness the dogwood trees that were solid masses of white blossoms against the background of new green. The twins’ horses were hitched in the driveway, big animals, red as their masters’ hair; and around the horses’ legs quarreled the pack of lean, nervous possum hounds that accompanied Stuart and Brent wherever they went. A little aloof, as became an aristocrat, lay a black-spotted carriage dog, muzzle on paws, patiently waiting for the boys to go home to supper.
