Thiên Thời Địa Lợi Nhân Hoà - Tái bản 2001 tải xuống LIT miễn phí

Alperen D alpern_d — This novel was a good-bye gift from one of my favorite English professors in college, and it was an unexpected, beautiful gesture - much like the book itself. It's the story of a guy who is fascinated by x-rays (this in the days before we understood the dangers), and the woman he falls in love with, and how they are involved in the making of the atomic bomb. I remember rationing it out because I wanted it to last. I probably need to read it again, actually.

Jennifer Kaplan jnfrkaplan — My most favorite book

Nam Hongki dafandesign — It's been a little while since I read this book, so I can't remember exactly what I have to say about it. I may come back in later and put in my meaningful quotes. This book, in a nutshell, is a study of dissatisfaction. Nothing is ever what you want it to be, or expect it to be. Your life is never as well-put-together, clean-cut, or romantic as you had planned. Flaubert goes to great pains to illustrate that while life may hand you a set of circumstances, it is ultimately your choices that determine the richness and depth (or bitterness and angst) of your life. And being dissatisfied is a problem that no one can solve for you. My feelings on life and love are similar to what Dolly Levi sings about in "Hello Dolly!". Alone in her dressing room, she sings a song about how "love is only love, and it's wonderful enough," even without the "shooting star", "sounds of bells," and "violins." "And when you hold his hand/you only hold his hand." But really, isn't that enough? Isn't love and holding hands wonderful enough without all the pomp, grandeur, and inflation of built-up dreams, sugary fairy tales and washed-up romantic ideals? To quote another song, this time from Rascal Flatts, "love who you love." That just about sums it up, right? You choose who you love, and then you love them. It is always a choice. Too bad Madame Bovary just made the wrong choice. Over and over, she wanted the shooting star, bells, and violins. And so she kills herself, her husband dies of grief, and her daughter ends up working in a textiles mill. The end. My quotes: of madame bovary, as a youth: "In her wistfulness, she confused the sensuous pleasures of luxury with the delights of the heart, elegance of manners with delicacy of sentiment...She longed to travel or to go back to her convent. She wanted to die, but she also wanted to live in Paris." Gives you the sense that she's not sure what she wants, she's only sure that she doesn't want what she has (or where she is). madame bovary and her first lover, before they are lovers (i think you can sense where he's going with this): "'No, no! Why cry out against the passions? Are they not the one beautiful thing on earth, the source of heroism, of enthusiasm, of poetry, music, the art, in a word, of everything?' 'But one must,' said Emma, 'to some extent bow to the opinion of the world and accept its morality.'" a little bit of foreshadowing here, the starting of the crumbling of her moral sense. after her first encounter: "Then she recalled the heroines of the books that she had read, and the lyric legion of these adulterous women began to sing in her memory with the voice of sisters that charmed her. She became herself, as it were, an actual part of these lyrical imaginings; at long last, as she saw herself among those lovers she had so envied, she fulfilled the love-dream of her youth. Besides, emma felt a satisfaction of revenge. How she had suffered! But she had won out at last, and the love so longpent up erupted in joyous outbursts. She tasted it without remorse, without anxiety, without concern." the continuation of her delusion and moral decay. also, interesting to have her think of adulterous heroines from books, when she herself is an invention; a fictitious heroine adulteress of this novel. It kind of makes me dizzy to think about. The same idea, later on (after her first affair had ended and she started another with someone else): "According to her changing moods, in turn meditative and gay, talkative and silent, passionate and langorous...She was the mistress of all the novels, the heroine of all the dramas, the vague 'she' of all the volumes of verse. On her shoulders, he redicovered the amber color of the 'Odalique au Bain'; her waist was long like the feudal chatelaines; she resembled Musset's 'Femme Pale de Barcelone'. " and the rose-colored glasses come off: "But who was it, then who made her so unhappy? What extraordinary catastrophe had destroyed her life? And she raised her head, as if seeking around her for the cause of all that suffering." It doesn't even cross her mind that it is her own fault, her choices. she engages again in the blame game.

Vandana Sharma svandanm — I thought the characters were well-structured and honest. The style was easy flowing and the pace was quick.