The Jilting of Granny Weatherall 译文

英国文学上BeowulfThe Canterbury TalesThe Three RavensSir Patrick SpensRobin Hood and the Three Squires [skwaɪə]The Faerie Queene ['feɪərɪ]The Tragical History of Doctor FaustusRomeo and JulietThe Merchant of VeniceJulius CaesarHamletThe King James Bible of 1611Of Great PlaceOf StudiesSongThe Canonization [,kænənə'zeʃən]A Valediction：Forbidding Mourning[,vælɪ'dɪkʃən] VirtueSong to CeliaTo Mr. Cyriack Skinner Upon His Blindness Paradise LostThe Pilgrim’s Progress 贝奥武甫坎特伯雷故事集三只乌鸦帕特里克·斯本士爵士罗宾汉和三个乡绅仙后浮士德博士的悲剧罗密欧与朱丽叶威尼斯商人尤里乌斯·凯撒哈姆雷特钦定圣经谈高位谈读书歌封为圣者别离辞:节哀美德致西莉亚关于自己的失明致西莉雅克·斯凯纳失乐园天路历程An Essay of Dramatic PoesyMoll FlandersA Modest ProposalThe Royal ExchangeSir Roger at ChurchAn Essay on ManLetter to the Right Honourable The Earl of Chester fieldThe Preface to ShakespeareThe History of Tom Jones, A FoundlingThe Expedition of Humphry ClinkerElegy Written in a Country Churchyard['elɪdʒɪ] The School for ScandalIs There for Honest PovertyScots, Wha HaeAuld Lang SyneA Red, Red RoseFrom Songs of InnocenceThe LambHoly ThursdayFrom Songs of ExperienceThe Chimney SweeperThe TygerLondon 论戏剧诗摩尔·弗兰德斯一个谦卑的建议皇家交易所罗吉先生在教堂人论致吉斯特非尔德爵爷书《莎士比亚集》序弃儿汤姆·琼斯的故事汉弗莱·克林克出征记墓畔哀歌造谣学校穷得有志气苏格兰人拥有往昔时光我的爱人像朵红红的玫瑰天真之歌羔羊耶稣升天节经验之歌扫烟囱的孩子虎伦敦英国文学下Lyrical BalladsComposed upon Westerminster Bridge The Solitary ReaperI Wandered Lonely as a CloudTintern AbbeyKubla KhamThe Rime of the Ancient MarinerChilde Harold’s PilgrimageDon JuanWhen We Two PartedShe Walks in BeautySong to the Men of EnglandOde to the West WindOn First Looking into Chapman’s Homer Ode to a NightingaleTo AutumnOld ChinaOn the Knocking at the Gate in Macbeth IvanhoeDombey and SonBleak HouseVanity Fair 抒情歌谣集写于威斯敏斯特桥上孤独的割麦女我好似一片孤的流云丁登寺忽必烈汗古舟子咏恰尔德•哈罗尔德游记唐璜记当时我俩分手她身披美丽而行致英国人之歌西风颂初读查普曼译荷马史诗夜莺颂秋颂古旧的瓷器《论＜麦克白＞剧中的敲门声》艾文赫董贝父子荒凉山庄名利场Break, Break, BreakUlyssesIn MemoriamMy Last DuchessMeeting at NightParting at MorningDover BeachWuthering HeightsPast and PresentTess of the D’UrbervillesIn Time of “The Breaking of Nations”AfterwardsHeart of DarknessMajor BarbaraThe Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock The Landscape near an Aerodrome Spain 1937Look Back in AngerWaiting for GodotA Severed HeadLord of the FliesIn a Free StateMoney: a Suicide Note 拍岸曲尤利西斯悼念我的前公爵夫人深夜幽会清晨离别多佛海滩呼啸山庄过去和现在德伯家的苔丝国家分裂时身后黑暗的心脏巴巴拉少校普鲁弗洛克的情歌机场附近的景色西班牙1937愤怒的回顾等待戈多割裂的头脑蝇王在一个自由的国度钱：绝命书Death of a NaturalistPunishmentPride and PrejudiceJane Eyre美国文学Poor Richard’s AlmanacThe AutobiographyTales of the Grotesque and Arabesque TalesThe Fall of the House of UsherThe Masque of the Red DeathLigeiaThe Black CatThe Cask of AmontilladoMurders in the Rue MorgueThe Purloined LetterThe Gold BugThe Philosophy of CompositionThe Poetic PrincipleNatureSelf-RelianceThe American ScholarThe Divinity School Address [dɪ'vɪnɪtɪ]博物学家之死惩罚傲慢与偏见简爱格言历书自传述异集故事集厄舍大厦的倒塌红色死亡假面舞会莉盖亚黑猫阿芒提拉多的酒桶莫格街谋杀案被窃的信件金甲虫创作哲学诗歌原理论自然论自助论美国学者神学院致辞Representative MenEssaysEnglish TraitsThe Conduct of LifePoemsMay-DayTwice-told TalesMosses from an Old Manse The Scarlet LetterThe House of the Seven Gables The Blithedale RomanceThe Marble FaunTypeeOmooMardiRedburnWhite JacketMoby DickThe Confidence ManBattle PiecesJohn Marr and other Sailors TimoleonBilly Budd 人类代表论文集英国特征人生的行为诗集五月节故事重述古宅青苔红字带有七个尖角阁的房子福谷传奇玉石雕像泰比欧穆玛地雷得本白外衣白鲸骗子的化装表演战事集约翰•玛尔和其他水手梯摩里昂毕利•伯德On the Duty of Civil DisobedienceWaldenA Week on the Concord and Merrimack River Voices of the NightBallads and Other PoemsEvangelineThe Song of Hiawatha [,haiə'wɔθə]I Shot an Arrow…A Psalm of LifeAnnabel LeeThe RavenSonnet-To ScienceTo HelenLeaves of GrassOne’s Self I SingO Captain! My Captain!To Make a Prairie…Success is Counted SweetestI’m Nobody!The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County The Innocents AbroadThe Gilded AgeThe Adventures of Tom Sawyer 论公民的不服从沃尔登《在康科德与梅里马克河上一周》《夜吟》歌谣及其他伊凡杰林海华沙之歌我射出一支箭…生命颂安娜贝尔•李乌鸦十四行诗——致科学致海伦草叶集我歌唱自我噢，船长！我的船长！要描绘一片草原……最美妙的胜利感觉我是无名之辈卡拉维拉县驰名的跳蛙傻瓜出国记镀金时代汤姆索亚历险记Life on the MississippiThe Adventures of Huckleberry FinnA Connecticut Y ankee in King Arhur’s Court The Tragedy of Pudd’nhead WilsonThe Man That Corrupted HadleyburgA Passionate PilgrimThe AmericanThe Portrait of a LadyThe BostoniansThe Turn of the ScrewThe Wings of the DoveThe AmbassadorsThe Golden BowlThe Art of FictionDaisy MillerThe Awkward AgeThe Spoils of PoyntonThe Princess of CasamassimaThe Jolly CornerMaggie：A Girl of the StreetsThe Red Badge of CourageThe Open BoatThe Bride Comes to Yellow Sky 密西西比河上哈克贝里•费恩历险记亚瑟王朝廷上的康涅狄格洲美国佬《傻瓜威尔逊》败坏了哈德莱堡的人热衷游历的人一个美国人一个女士的画像波士顿人螺丝在拧紧鸽翼专使金碗小说的艺术黛西•密勒未成熟的少年时代波音敦的珍藏品卡萨玛西玛公主快乐的一角街头女郎麦姬红色英勇勋章海上扁舟新娘来到黄天镇The Blue HotelWindy Mcpherson’s Son Winesburg, OhioMarching MenPoor WhiteThe Triumph of the EggHorses and MenMany MarriagesDark LaughterBeyond DesireDeath in the WoodsThe Flowering JudasPale Horse, Pale RiderThe Leaning TowerThe Old OrderOld MortalityA Ship of FoolsThe Jilting of Granny Weatherall This Side of ParadiseThe Beauty and the Damned Flappers and Philosophers Tales of the Jazz AgeThe Great Gatsby 蓝色旅店饶舌的麦克佛逊的儿子俄亥俄州的温斯堡镇前进的人们穷白人鸡蛋的胜利马与人多种婚姻阴沉的笑声超越欲望林中之死开花的紫荆树灰色骑士灰色马斜塔旧秩序修墓老人愚人船被背弃的老祖母人间天堂漂亮的冤家姑娘们与哲学家们爵士乐时代的故事了不起的盖茨比Tender is the NightThe Crack-upSoldiers' PayMosquitoesThe Sound and the Fury ['fjʊərɪ] As I Lay DyingLight in AugustAbsalom, Absalom! ['æbsələm] SartorisThe HamletThe TownThe MansionBarn Burning [bɑːn]The Marble FaunGo Down, MosesThe Sun Also RisesA Farewell to ArmsThe Old Man and the SeaFor Whom the Bell TollsThe Garden of EdenIn Our TimeWinner Take NothingTo Have and Have Not 夜色温柔崩溃士兵的报酬蚊群喧哗与骚动我弥留之际八月之光押沙龙，押沙龙！沙多里斯村子小镇大宅烧牲口棚大理石牧神去吧，摩西太阳照常升起永别了，武器老人与海丧钟为谁而鸣伊甸园在我们的时代里胜利者一无所获有钱人与没钱人ExultationsPersondeCathayCantosIn a Station of the MetroAnecdote of the JarCollected Later PoemsCollected Early PoemsPatersonThe Red WheelbarrowA Boy’s WillNorth of BostonCollected PoemsA Further RangeA Witness TreeNew HamphshireFire and IceStopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening The Road Not TakenThe Dream KeeperShakespeare in HarlemFine Clothes to the JewThe Weary Blues 狂喜人物中国诗章在一个地铁车站坛子的轶事近期诗集早期诗集佩特森红色手推车一个男孩的意愿波士顿的北部诗集又一片牧场标记树新罕布什尔火与冰雪夜林边驻脚未选择的路梦乡人哈莱姆的莎士比亚抵押给犹太人的好衣服萎靡的布鲁斯Me and the MuleBorder LineThe Poet of EarthThe Happy Marriage ConquistadorArs PoeticaIn the ZoneThe Long Voyage Home Bound East for CardiffThe Moon of the Caribees Emperor JonesThe Hairy ApeDesire under the Elms Mourning Becomes Electra Strange InterludeThe Iceman ComethThe Great God BrownA Touch of the PoetLong Day’s Journey into Night More Stately MansionsThe Moon for the Misbegotten HughieOne Man’s Meat 我与骡子分界线大地诗人幸福的婚姻征服者诗艺在这一带漫长的返航东航加的夫加勒比的月亮琼斯皇帝毛猿榆树下的欲望悲悼奇异的插曲送冰的人来了大神布朗诗人的气质长日终入夜更庄严的大厦月照不幸人休依一个人的见解The Points of My Compass Stuart LittleCharlotte’s WebThe Glass MenagerieCat on a Hot Tin Roof Summer and SmokeThe Rose TattooA Streetcar Named Desire Invisible ManShadow and ActGoing to the Territory Life StudiesThe DolphinNorth and SouthIn the Waiting RoomThe WakingHowlBook of the DuchessThe Parliament of Fowles The ColossusArielWinter TreesThe Bell Jar 我罗盘上的方位斯图亚特•利特尔夏洛特的网玻璃动物园热铁皮屋顶上的猫夏日烟云玫瑰纹身欲望号街车看不见的人影子与行动走向领域人生的写照海豚北方与南方候诊室里苏醒嚎叫公爵夫人之书百鸟议会巨人小精灵冬天的树钟状的罐子Point ShirleyStill I RiseAll My SonsDeath of a SalesmanThe CrucibleA View from the BridgeAfter the FallThe Archbishop’s CeilingThe MisfitsDangling ManThe Adventure of Augie March Seize the DayThe VictimCatch-22Something HappenedWe Bombed In New Haven Song of SolomonJazzBelovedThe Bluest EyeLove MedicineTracksShadow Tag 雪莉角我仍将奋起全是我的儿子推销员之死炼狱桥头眺望堕落之后大主教的天花板不合时宜的人晃来晃去的人奥吉·玛琪历险记只争朝夕受害者第二十二条军规出了毛病我们轰炸了纽黑文所罗门之歌爵士乐宠儿最蓝的眼睛爱药痕迹影子标签The Antelope Wife The Beet Queen The Bingo Place The Plague of Doves 羚羊妻甜菜女王宾果宫鸽灾。

The Jilting of Granny Weatherall Katherine Ann Porter←Character List→Plot OverviewAnalysis of Major CharactersGranny Weatherall- A woman who’s about eighty. After she was jilted at the altar by George, Granny Weatherall married John, who died young, leaving her with several children to care for. Granny, whose given name is Ellen, used to be a midwife and nurse. Meticulous by nature, she is annoyed by Cornelia’s and the doctor’s attempts to make her more comfortable.Read an in-depth analysis of Granny Weatherall.Cornelia - One of Granny’s children. Cornelia is the primary caregiver durin g Granny’s illness. Cornelia loves her mother and is devastated by the prospect of her death.John- Granny’s husband. John died when he was a young man, and Granny’s memories suggest that he was a kind husband and father. She wishes he could see the children grown up and believes that he would admire her skill in caring for others.George - The man who jilted Granny Weatherall, leaving her alone at the altar when she was a young woman. Granny still loves George, even though she has spent much of her adult life trying not to think about him. Hapsy- Granny’s favorite child. Granny longs to see Hapsy, who doesn’t come to the house. There is some suggestion, never confirmed, that Hapsy died in childbirth. Granny has a vision of Hapsy holding a baby and welcoming her. And in her last moments of life, Granny thinks of Hapsy preparing to give birth.Doctor Harry - A kind but condescending man who attends to Granny on her deathbed. Granny thinks of him as ludicrously young.Father Connolly- The priest who delivers the last rites to Granny. Father Connolly affects a pious air while speaking Latin over Granny, but she remembers him as a jokester who was less interested in discussing religion than in gossiping over tea.Lydia- One of Granny’s children. Lydia often comes to Granny for advice when she is having trouble with her children. Granny thinks that because Lydia has an irresponsible husband, she will need the land.Jimmy- One of Granny’s children. Jimmy asks Granny fo r business advice.。

An Essay about The Jilting of Granny Weatherall1. SummaryIt is a story about Granny Weatherall. She was abandoned by three men. The first one is her past lover George. She put on the white veil and waited for him, but he did not show up. She was jilted. After being abandoned, she married John whom she did not virtually love. She even can not choose her own happiness and freedom that she wants. Unfortunately, she’s abandoned again. Her husband died, leaving several young children and her life changed again. She had to support the whole family. But that is not the end. Finally, she was abandoned by God. She once struggled with a long fever but God didn’t take her away. After that, she thought she could live as long as her father, however, God visited her without any omen. His coming is not to save her, but to take her life.2. My point of viewThe story of Granny Weatherall gives me a lesson. And it lets me know three things about my life.Firstly, the story let me know lovers are selfish. Granny Weatherall put on the white veil and waited for her past lover George, but he did not show up. Before their wedding, they must be very happy. Because George was selfish, he gave her a French leave. And just left she went through the feeling of heart broken. The promises gave by the lovers are cheap. A promise may mean nothing, and it is just words to cheat. Love is full of happiness and sorrow, and may be it is the charm of it. This story let me know to be wise when I am in love.Secondly, it is to accept the loss of the things we can not grasp. Granny Weatherall was abandoned several times. But she was not trapped by the losses. When she was jilted by her first lover, she was sad but instead of desperate. She met another man and had babies. She let things which she could not grasp go, and it would be a new start. Life is a changeable process, and full of chances. Today we may loss something. But to some extent, it also means we have the ability to own the other things. Granny Weatherall is a strong-willed and hardworking woman. Facing with these losses, she’s not defeated. She accept it, in my mind, she lives a better life.Thirdly, I learned a quality from Granny Weatherall, that is, depend on ourselves. We all willleave the hug of parents, and we will choose the way by ourselves. We live in a society in which no one will care a lot about us. Others give us pain more than help. We should learn to depend on ourselves. From the story we can see, the one we depended on will finally leave us. Just like the first lov er of Granny Weatherall, her husband and the “selfless” God. No one we can depend on, because they may suddenly go. To support the family, she made the garden, fenced in a hundred acres and dug the post holes herself. She did all the things successfully and dependently.3. ConclusionThis story written by Katherine Anne Porter aims to wake up women’s self-consciousness by presenting the difficulties of women’s life and criticize unequal treatment of women in society. Having a deep understanding of this nove l, Porter’s novel-creating background and the main character, the old Granny in her novel is of great importance.Also the story of Granny Weatherall enlightens me a lot. It let me know the art of living is to live for today. Yesterday will not be changed .We remember the beauty that faded, the love that waned. It is the reason our life is not happy. As a saying, “Life is a paradox: it enjoins us to cling to as many gifts, even while it ordains their finally relinquishments.” And we should not spend and waste our lives accumulating objects that will only turn to dust and ashes.。

The Jilting of Granny Weatherall By Katherine Anne PorterShe flicked her wrist neatly out of Doctor Harry’s pudgy careful fingers and pulled the sheet up to her chin. The brat ought to be in knee breeches. Doctoring around the country with spectacles on his nose! “Get along now. Take your schoolbooks and go. There’s nothing wrong with me.”Doctor Harry spread a warm paw like a cushion on her forehead where the forked green vein danced and made her eyelids twitch. “Now, now, be a good girl, and we’ll have you up in no time.”“That’s no way to speak to a woman nearly eighty years old just because she’s down. I’d have you respect your elders, young man.”“Well, Missy, excuse me.”Doctor Harry patted her cheek. “But I’ve got to warn you, haven’t I? You’re a marvel, but you must be careful or you’re going to be good and sorry.”“Don’t tell me what I’m going to be. I’m on my feet now, morally speaking. It’s Cornelia. I had to go to bed to get rid of her.”Her bones felt loose, and floated around in her skin, and Doctor Harry floated like a balloon around the foot of the bed. He floated and pulled down his waistcoat, and swung his glasses on a cord. “Well, stay where you are, it certainly can’t hurt you.”“Get along and doctor your sick,”said Granny Weatherall. “Leave a well woman alone. I’ll call for you when I want you…Where were you forty years ago when I pulled through milk-leg and double pneumonia? You weren’t even born. Don’t let Cornelia lead you on,”she shouted, because Doctor Harry appeared to float up to the ceiling and out. “I pay my own bills, and I don’t throw my money away on nonsense!”She meant to wave good-by, but it was too much trouble. Her eyes closed of themselves, it was like a dark curtain drawn around the bed. The pillow rose and floated under her, pleasant as a hammock in a light wind. She listened to the leaves rustling outside the window. No, somebody was swishing newspapers: no, Cornelia and Doctor Harry were whispering together. She leaped broad awake, thinking they whispered in her ear.“She was never like this, never like this!”“Well, what can we expect?”“Yes, eighty years old…”Well, and what if she was? She still had ears. It was like Cornelia to whisper around doors. She always kept things secret in such a public way. She was always being tactful and kind. Cornelia was dutiful; that was the trouble with her. Dutiful and good: “So good and dutiful,”said Granny, “that I’d like to spank her.”She saw herself spanking Cornelia and making a fine job of it.“What’d you say, mother?”Granny felt her face tying up in hard knots.“Can’t a body think, I’d like to know?”“I thought you might like something.”“I do. I want a lot of things. First off, go away and don’t whisper.”She lay and drowsed, hoping in her sleep that the children would keep out and let her rest a minute. It had been a long day. Not that she was tired. It was always pleasant to snatch a minute now and then. There was always so much to be done, let me see: tomorrow.Tomorrow was far away and there was nothing to trouble about. Things were finished somehow when the time came; thank God there was always a little margin over for peace: then a person could spread out the plan of life and tuck in the edges orderly. It was good to have everything clean and folded away, with the hair brushes and tonic bottles sitting straight on the white, embroidered linen: the day started without fuss and the pantry shelves laid out with rows of jelly glasses and brown jugs and white stone-china jars with blue whirligigs and words painted on them: coffee, tea, sugar, ginger, cinnamon, allspice: and the bronze clock with the lion on top nicely dusted off. The dust that lion could collect in twenty-four hours! The box in the attic with all those letters tied up, well, she’d have to go through that tomorrow. All those letters –George’s letters and John’s letters and her letters to them both –lying around for the children to find afterwards made her uneasy. Yes, that would be tomorrow’s business. No use to let them know how silly she had been once.While she was rummaging around she found death in her mind and it felt clammy and unfamiliar. She had spent so much time preparing for death there was no need for bringing it up again. Let it take care of itself for now. When she was sixty she had felt very old, finished, and went around making farewell trips to see her children and grandchildren, with a secret in her mind: This was the very last of your mother, children! Then she made her will and came down with a long fever. That was all just a notion like a lot of other things, but it was lucky too, for she had once and for all got over the idea of dying for a long time. Now she couldn’t beworried. She hoped she had better sense now. Her father had lived to be one hundred and two years old and had drunk a noggin of strong hot toddy on his last birthday. He told the reporters it was his daily habit, and he owed his long life to that. He had made quite a scandal and was very pleased about it. She believed she’d just plague Cornelia a little.“Cornelia! Cornelia!”No footsteps, but a sudden hand on her cheek. “Bless you, where have you been?”“Here, Mother.”“Well, Cornelia, I want a noggin of hot toddy.”“Are you cold, darling?”“I’m chilly, Cornelia.”Lying in bed stops the circulation. I must have told you a thousand times.”Well, she could just hear Cornelia telling her husband that Mother was getting a little childish and they’d have to humor her. The thing that most annoyed her was that Cornelia thought she was deaf, dumb, and blind. Little hasty glances and tiny gestures tossed around here and over her head saying, “Don’t cross her, let her have her way, she’s eighty years old,”and she sitting there as if she lived in a thin glass cage. Sometimes granny almost made up her mind to pack up and move back to her own house where nobody could remind her every minute that she was old. Wait, wait, Cornelia, till your own children whisper behind your back!In her day she had kept a better house and had got more work done. She wasn’t too old yet for Lydia to be driving eighty miles for advice when one of the children jumped the track, and Jimmy still dropped in and talked things over: “Now, Mammy, you’ve a good business head, I want to know what you think of this?…”Old. Cornelia couldn’t change the furniture around without asking . Little things, little things! They had been so sweet when they were little. Granny wished the old days were back again with the children young and everything to be done over. It had been a hard pull, but not too much for her. When she thought of all the food she had cooked, and all the clothes she had cut and sewed, and all the gardens she had made –well, the children showed it. There they were, made out of her, and they couldn’t get away from that. Sometimes she wanted to see John again and point to them and say, Well, I didn’t do so badly, did I? But that would have to wait. That was for tomorrow. She used to think of him as a man, but now all the children were older than their father, and he would be a child beside her if she saw him now. It seemed strange and there was something wrong in the idea. Why, he couldn’t possibly recognize her. She had fenced in a hundred acres once, digging the post holes herself and clamping the wires with just a negro boy to help. That changed a woman. John would be looking for a young woman with a peaked Spanish comb in her hair and the painted fan. Digging post holes changed a woman. Riding country roads in the winter when women had their babies was another thing: sitting up nights with sick horses and sick negroes and sick children and hardly ever losing one. John, I hardly ever lost one of them! John would see that in a minute, that would be something he could understand, she wouldn’t have to explain anything!It made her feel like rolling up her sleeves and putting the whole place to rights again. No matter if Cornelia was determined to be everywhere at once, there were a great many things left undone on this place. She would start tomorrow and do them. It was good to be strong enough for everything, even if all you made melted and changed and slipped under your hands, so that by the time you finished you almost forgot what you were working for. What was it I set out to do? She asked herself intently, but she could not remember. A fog rose over the valley, she saw it marching across the creek swallowing the trees and moving up the hill like an army of ghosts. Soon it would be at the near edge of the orchard, and then it was time to go in and light the lamps. Come in, children, don’t stay out in the night air.Lighting the lamps had been beautiful. The children huddled up to her and breathed like little calves waiting at the bars in the twilight. Their eyes followed the match and watched the flame rise and settle in a blue curve, then they moved away from her. The lamp was lit, they didn’t have to be scared and hang on to mother any more. Never, never, never more. God, for all my life, I thank Thee. Without Thee, my God, I could never have done it. Hail, Mary, full of grace.I want you to pick all the fruit this year and see nothing is wasted. There’s always someone who can use it. Don’t let good things rot for want of using. You waste life when you waste good food. Don’t let things get lost. It’s bitter to lose things. Now, don’t let me get to thinking, not when I’m tired and taking a little nap before supper….The pillow rose about her shoulders and pressed against her heart and the memory was being squeezed out of it: oh, push down the pillow, somebody: it would smother her if she tried to hold it. Such a fresh breeze blowing and such a green day with no threats in it. But he had not come, just the same. What does a woman do when she has put on the white veil and set out the white cake for a man and he doesn’t come? She tried to remember. No, I swear he never harmed me but in that. He never harmed me but in that…and what if he did? There was the day, the day, but a whirl of dark smoke rose and covered it, crept up and over into the bright field where everything was planted so carefully in orderly rows. That was hell, she knew hell when she saw it. For sixty years she had prayed against remembering him and against losing her soul in the deep pit of hell, and now the two things were mingled in one and the thought of him was a smoky cloud from hell that moved and crept in her head when she had just got rid of Doctor Harry and wastrying to rest a minute. Wounded vanity, Ellen, said a sharp voice in the top of her mind. Don’t let your wounded vanity get the upper hand of you. Plenty of girls get jilted. You were kilted, weren’t you? Then stand up to it. Her eyelids wavered and let in streamers of blue-gray light like tissue paper over her eyes. She must get up and pull the shades down or she’d never sleep. She was in bed again and the shades were not down. How could that happen? Better turn over, hide from the light, sleeping in the light gave you nightmares. “Mother, how do you feel now?”and a stinging wetness on her forehead. But I don’t like having my face washed in cold water!Hapsy? George? Lydia? Jimmy? No, Cornelia and her features were swollen and full of little puddles. “They’re coming, darling, they’ll all be here soon.”Go wash your face, child, you look funny.Instead of obeying, Cornelia knelt down and put her head on the pillow. She seemed to be talking but there was no sound. “Well, are you tongue-tied? Whose birthday is it? Are you going to give a party?”Cornelia’s mouth moved urgently in strange shapes. “Don’t do that, you bother me, daughter.”“Oh no, Mother. Oh, no…”Nonsense. It was strange about children. They disputed your every word. “No what, Cornelia?”“Here’s Doctor Harry.”“I won’t see that boy again. He left just five minutes ago.”“That was this morning, Mother. It’s night now. Here’s the nurse.”“This is Doctor Harry, Mrs. Weatherall. I never saw you look so young and happy!”“Ah, I’ll never be young again –but I’d be happy if they’d let me lie in peace and get rested.”She thought she spoke up loudly, but no one answered. A warm weight on her forehead, a warm bracelet on her wrist, and a breeze went on whispering, trying to tell her something. A shuffle of leaves in the everlasting hand of God, He blew on them and they danced and rattled. “Mother, don’t mind, we’re going to give you a little hypodermic.”“Look here, daughter, how do ants get in this bed? I saw sugar ants yesterday.”Did you send for Hapsy too?It was Hapsy she really wanted. She had to go a long way back through a great many rooms to find Hapsy standing with a baby on her arm. She seemed to herself to be Hapsy also, and the baby on Hapsy’s arm was Hapsy and himself and herself, all at once, and there was no surprise in the meeting. Then Hapsy melted from within and turned flimsy as gray gauze and the baby was a gauzy shadow, and Hapsy came up close and said, “I thought you’d never come,”and looked at her very searchingly and said, “You haven’t changed a bit!”They leaned forward to kiss, when Cornelia began whispering from a long way off, “Oh, is there anything you want to tell me? Is there anything I can do for you?”Yes, she had changed her mind after sixty years and she would like to see George. I want you to find George. Find him and be sure to tell him I forgot him. I want him to know I had my husband just the same and my children and my house like any other woman. A good house too and a good husband that I loved and fine children out of him. Better than I had hoped for even. Tell him I was given back everything he took away and more. Oh, no, oh, God, no, there was something else besides the house and the man and the children. Oh, surely they were not all? What was it? Something not given back…Her breath crowded down under her ribs and grew into a monstrous frightening shape with cutting edges; it bored up into her head, and the agony was unbelievable: Yes, John, get the Doctor now, no more talk, the time has come.When this one was born it should be the last. The last. It should have been born first, for it was the one she had truly wanted. Everything came in good time. Nothing left out, left over. She was strong, in three days she would be as well as ever. Better. A woman needed milk in her to have her full health.“Mother, do you hear me?”“I’ve been telling you –““Mother, Father Connolly’s here.”“I went to Holy Communion only last week. Tell him I’m not so sinful as all that.”“Father just wants to speak with you.”He could speak as much as he pleased. It was like him to drop in and inquire about her soul as if it were a teething baby, and then stay on for a cup of tea and a round of cards and gossip. He always had a funny story of some sort, usually about an Irishman who made his little mistakes and confessed them, and the point lay in some absurd thing he would blurt out in the confessional showing his struggles between native piety and original sin. Granny felt easy about her soul. Cornelia, where are your manners? Give Father Connolly a chair. She had her secret comfortable understanding with a few favorite saints who cleared a straight road to God for her. All as surely signed and sealed as the papers for the new forty acres. Forever…heirs and assigns forever. Since the day the wedding cake was not cut, but thrown out and wasted. The whole bottom of the world dropped out, and there she was blind and sweating withnothing under her feet and the walls falling away. His hand had caught her under the breast, she had not fallen, there was the freshly polished floor with the green rug on it, just as before. He had cursed like a sailor’s parrot and said, “I’ll kill him for you.”Don’t lay a hand on him, for my sake leave something to God. “Now, Ellen, you must believe what I tell you….”So there was nothing, nothing to worry about anymore, except sometimes in the night one of the children screamed in a nightmare, and they both hustled out and hunting for the matches and calling, “There, wait a minute, here we are!”John, get the doctor now, Hapsy’s time has come. But there was Hapsy standing by the bed in a white cap. “Cornelia, tell Hapsy to take off her cap. I can’t see her plain.”Her eyes opened very wide and the room stood out like a picture she had seen somewhere. Dark colors with the shadows rising towards the ceiling in long angles. The tall black dresser gleamed with nothing on it but John’s picture, enlarged from a little one, with John’s eyes very black when they should have been blue. You never saw him, so how do you know how he looked? But the man insisted the copy was perfect, it was very rich and handsome. For a picture, yes, but it’s not my husband. The table by the bed had a linen cover and a candle and a crucifix. The light was blue from Cornelia’s silk lampshades. No sort of light at all, just frippery. You had to live forty years with kerosene lamps to appreciate honest electricity. She felt very strong and she saw Doctor Harry with a rosy nimbus around him.“You look like a saint, Doctor Harry, and I vow that’s as near as you’ll ever come to it.”“She’s saying something.”“I heard you Cornelia. What’s all this carrying on?”“Father Connolly’s saying –“Cornelia’s voice staggered and jumped like a cart in a bad road. It rounded corners and turned back again and arrived nowhere. Granny stepped up in the cart very lightly and reached for the reins, but a man sat beside her and she knew him by his hands, driving the cart. She did not look in his face, for she knew without seeing, but looked instead down the road where the trees leaned over and bowed to each other and a thousand birds were singing a Mass. She felt like singing too, but she put her hand in the bosom of her dress and pulled out a rosary, and Father Connolly murmured Latin in a very solemn voice and tickled her feet. My God, will you stop that nonsense? I’m a married woman. What if he did run away and leave me to face the priest by myself? I found another a whole world better. I wouldn’t have exchanged my husband for anybody except St. Michael himself, and you may tell him that for me with a thank you in the bargain.Light flashed on her closed eyelids, and a deep roaring shook her. Cornelia, is that lightning? I hear thunder. There’s going to be a storm. Close all the windows. Call the children in…“Mother, here we are, all of us.”“Is that you Hapsy?”“Oh, no, I’m Lydia We drove as fast as we could.”Their faces drifted above her, drifted away. The rosary fell out of her hands and Lydia put it back. Jimmy tried to help, their hands fumbled together, and granny closed two fingers around Jimmy’s thumb. Beads wouldn’t do, it must be something alive. She was so amazed her thoughts ran round and round. So, my dear Lord, this is my death and I wasn’t even thinking about it. My children have come to see me die. But I can’t, it’s not time. Oh, I always hated surprises. I wanted to give Cornelia the amethyst set –Cornelia, you’re to have the amethyst set, but Hapsy’s to wear it when she wants, and, Doctor Harry, do shut up. Nobody sent for you. Oh, my dear Lord, do wait a minute. I meant to do something about the Forty Acres, Jimmy doesn’t need it and Lydia will later on, with that worthless husband of hers. I meant to finish the alter cloth and send six bottles of wine to Sister Borgia for her dyspepsia. I want to send six bottles of wine to Sister Borgia, Father Connolly, now don’t let me forget.Cornelia’s voice made short turns and tilted over and crashed. “Oh, mother, oh, mother, oh, mother….”“I’m not going, Cornelia. I’m taken by surprise. I can’t go.”You’ll see Hapsy again. What bothered her? “I thought you’d never come.”Granny made a long journey outward, looking for Hapsy. What if I don’t find her? What then? Her heart sank down and down, there was no bottom to death, she couldn’t come to the end of it. The blue light from Cornelia’s lampshade drew into a tiny point in the center of her brain, it flickered and winked like an eye, quietly it fluttered and dwindled. Granny laid curled down within herself, amazed and watchful, staring at the point of light that was herself; her body was now only a deeper mass of shadow in an endless darkness and this darkness would curl around the light and swallow it up. God, give a sign!For a second time there was no sign. Again no bridegroom and the priest in the house. She could not remember any other sorrow because this grief wiped them all away. Oh, no, there’s nothing more cruel than this –I’ll never forgive it. She stretched herself with a deep breath and blew out the light.。

The Jilting of Granny Weatherall一部很经典的意识流作品请慢慢欣赏~~~哈里医生那几根又短又粗的手指小心地握住她的手腕，可她却轻巧地抽了出来，把盖在身上的被单拉到下巴边：这小鬼该穿上短裤。

鼻梁上居然还架着眼镜，在农村里巡回医疗！“你给我走吧，带上你的教科书走吧。

我可没生什么病。

”哈里医生张开的巴掌，暖洋洋的象一块软垫子，贴在她的前额上。

她额头叉状青筋上下颤动，连眼皮也不由自主地抽动起来。

“好了，好了，听话，乖。

我们很快就会使你好起来的。

”“对一位年近八十的老太太，别以为她病倒了就可以用这种态度说话。

我得教训你尊重老年人，小伙子。

”“好吧，对不起，小姐，”哈里医生拍拍她的脸颊。

“可我总得提醒你，你说是吗？你真是了不起，但是你可得留心点，不然你会后悔一辈子的。

”“用不着你来告诉我我以后会怎么样。

从精神上来说，我完全可以管得了自己。

问题是科妮莉亚，为了避开她的麻烦，我才不得不上床去睡觉。

”她感到自己整个骨骼架子都松散开了，只是皮肉在游动，而哈里医生却活象一只大气球，在床脚边飘来飘去。

他飘动着，耙身上穿的马甲也拉了下来，在一根细绳子上转动着眼镜。

“好吧，耽着别动，这样肯定不会伤害你。

”“滚吧，去看望你的病人去，”风霜老太太说。

“一个没有病的女人用不着你来管。

我需要你的时候会来请你的……四十年前我害股白肿病和恶性肺炎时，你到哪里去了？你还没有生出来吧！现在可不要给科妮莉亚牵着鼻子走，”她大声嚷着，因为哈里医生好象已经浮到屋顶上，要飘出去了。

“我自己开销自己的用度，我可不把钱白白浪费掉！”她想挥挥手表示再见，可这样做太费事了。

双眼不由自主地闭了起来，床四周就象围上了一张黑幕。

她头底下的枕头时而升高，时而浮动，人就象睡在微风轻拂的吊床里一样舒畅。

她听着窗外的树叶，沙沙作响。

不，是谁在窸窸窣窣地翻着报纸呢：不，是科妮莉亚和哈里医生在窃窃私语。

她惊跳一下完全清醒过来，心想这两个人就在她耳朵边低声说话呢。

“The Jilting of Granny Weatherall,” a short story by Katherine Anne Porter, describes the last thoughts, feelings, and memories of an elderly woman. As Granny Weatherall‟s life literally “flashes” before her eyes, the importance of the title of the story b ecomes obvious. Granny Weatherall has been in some way deceived or disappointed in every love relationship of her life. Her past lover George, husband John, daughter Cornelia, and God all did an injustice by what Porter refers to as “jilting.” This unendin g cycle of wrongdoing caused Granny to be a mixture of strength, bitterness, and ultimate fear as she faces her last moments in life.Granny gained her strength by the people that she felt jilted by. George stood Granny up at the altar. He never showed at all and it is never stated that she heard from him again. The pain forced Granny to be strong as is proven by her thoughts when she is asked if anything could be done for her. “ I want you to find George. Find him and be sure to tell him I forgot him. I want him to know I had my husband just the same and my children and my house like any other woman… T ell him I was given back everything he took away and more”. Granny did marry a man named John, but her strength was again tested when he died at a young age, leaving her to raise their children on her own. “Sometimes she wanted to see John again and point to them and say, well, I didn‟t do so badly did I?”. She had been strong enough to carry the burden of two lost loves and raise good children at the same time.It was one of these children, Cornelia, who made her act somewhat bitterly in her last days. With her daughter whispering about her and saying she should be humored at her old age, Granny felt like she had been in some way betrayed. “It was strange ab out children. They disputed your every word”. She felt like Cornelia was treating her like a child. “The thing that most annoyed her was that Cornelia thought she was deaf, dumb, and blind. Little hasty glances and tiny gestures tossed around her and over her head saying, …Don‟t cross her, let her have her way, she‟s eighty years old,‟ and she sitting there as if she lived in a thick glass cage”). These gestures and whispers made Granny feel as though Cornelia had jilted her too.In her most final moments, as she felt herself slipping into death, she could not find a sign of God, George, or John to welcome her. Not only was she jilted in life by the two most important people in it, but also in death and by the most important man-figure of all, God. “Granny lay…staring at the point of light that was herself; her body was now only a deeper mass of shadow in an endless darkness and this darkness would curl around the light and swallow it up. God, give a sign!”. She had once again been left at the altar, but th is time, the altar of death. “For the second time there was no sign. Again no bridegroom and the priest in the house. She could not remember any other sorrow because this grief wiped them all away…there‟s nothing more cruel than this-I‟ll never forgive it”.In life and in death, Granny Weatherall has been jilted and therefore made strong, bitter, and fearful. One must wonder that with these three characteristics in life, she must have due a great compensation in the afterlife. The greatest wrongdoing was that having been promised a Heaven, an eternal life, and Granny was once again left alone.。

The Jilting of Granny Weatherall一部很经典的意识流作品请慢慢欣赏~~~哈里医生那几根又短又粗的手指小心地握住她的手腕,可她却轻巧地抽了出来,把盖在身上的被单拉到下巴边：这小鬼该穿上短裤.鼻梁上居然还架着眼镜,在农村里巡回医疗！"你给我走吧,带上你的教科书走吧.我可没生什么病."哈里医生张开的巴掌,暖洋洋的象一块软垫子,贴在她的前额上.她额头叉状青筋上下颤动,连眼皮也不由自主地抽动起来."好了,好了,听话,乖.我们很快就会使你好起来的.""对一位年近八十的老太太,别以为她病倒了就可以用这种态度说话.我得教训你尊重老年人,小伙子.""好吧,对不起,小姐,"哈里医生拍拍她的脸颊."可我总得提醒你,你说是吗？你真是了不起,但是你可得留心点,不然你会后悔一辈子的.""用不着你来告诉我我以后会怎么样.从精神上来说,我完全可以管得了自己.问题是科妮莉亚,为了避开她的麻烦,我才不得不上床去睡觉."她感到自己整个骨骼架子都松散开了,只是皮肉在游动,而哈里医生却活象一只大气球,在床脚边飘来飘去.他飘动着,耙身上穿的马甲也拉了下来,在一根细绳子上转动着眼镜."好吧,耽着别动,这样肯定不会伤害你.""滚吧,去看望你的病人去,"风霜老太太说."一个没有病的女人用不着你来管.我需要你的时候会来请你的……四十年前我害股白肿病和恶性肺炎时,你到哪里去了？你还没有生出来吧！现在可不要给科妮莉亚牵着鼻子走,"她大声嚷着,因为哈里医生好象已经浮到屋顶上,要飘出去了."我自己开销自己的用度,我可不把钱白白浪费掉！"她想挥挥手表示再见,可这样做太费事了.双眼不由自主地闭了起来,床四周就象围上了一张黑幕.她头底下的枕头时而升高,时而浮动,人就象睡在微风轻拂的吊床里一样舒畅.她听着窗外的树叶,沙沙作响.不,是谁在窸窸窣窣地翻着报纸呢：不,是科妮莉亚和哈里医生在窃窃私语.她惊跳一下完全清醒过来,心想这两个人就在她耳朵边低声说话呢."她从来没有过这付样子,从来没有过！""咳,我们又有什么法子呢？""是啊,八十岁了……"哼,八十岁又怎么样？她还是有耳朵的.科妮莉亚就爱在大门口窃窃私语.她总是这样,当着众人的面说着悄悄话.她总是表现出既机灵又善良的样子.科妮莉亚是顺从的,这正是她的毛病.顺从而又好心好意：老奶奶说,"她是这样的顺从和好心好意,我简直想揍她一顿."她好象看见自己正在打科妮莉亚的屁股,打得可真痛快."妈妈,你要想说些什么？"老奶奶感到自己的脸绉成一团."我倒想知道一个人不能想事情吗？""我以为你可能需要些什么.""对了,我需要很多东西呢.你先给我离开这儿,走吧,不要在这里叽叽喳喳."她躺着,迷迷糊糊地打着盹,希望在睡梦里孩子们会离开她,让她休息一会.长长的一天已经过去了.倒不是她感到疲倦,不过能抢着休息一两分钟总是舒服的事.总是有那么多的事情要做,让我想一想：明天.明天还远着呐,没有什么可担心的.到时间了,一切都多多少少有个了结；感谢上帝,总是还留下些时间可以安静安静：这时候自己可以全面审视人生,如果有些边边角角不完善的地方还可以修整妥贴.把一切都干干净净地摺拢,放匀贴是件好事,头发刷子,补药并都整整齐齐地安放在白色绣花台布上：从从容容地开始新的一天,餐具架上摆着一排排装果子冻的玻璃杯,褐色的大口杯,白色的磁罐子,上面用蓝颜色漆着各种玩意儿和字样：咖啡,茶,糖,姜,桂皮,浆果：一座铜钟,项上有一只掸得干干净净的狮子.二十四小时内天知道狮子上会积上多少灰尘！阁楼箱子里捆放着那一大堆信件,对,明天得去再读一下——乔治写来的,约翰写来的,还有她写给他们两人的——搁在那里以后给孩子们看到,可使她感到不自在.是呀,那是明天要办的事.让孩子们知道她曾经一度多么傻,那可没有好处.正当她反复寻思时,脑海里突然出现"死亡"两字,死对她来说显得那样陌生,那样阴气森森.过去有很长一段时间她一直在等待死亡的到来,现在没有必要再重提此事,听其自然吧.在她六十岁的时候,她曾经感到自己很衰老了, 快完蛋了,于是就去各地探望儿女和孙辈,心中暗自思忖：永别了,孩子们,这是妈妈最后一次来看望你们.接着她立了遗嘱,随后就发烧,病了很久.这事像其它很多事情一样,只不过是脑子里一时的想法而已,但是也还算是幸运,因为打这以后很久,她再也没有受到死的念头的折磨了.她不会再为这件事而忧心忡忡了.她希望自己现在总应该更加明白事理一些.她的父亲活到了一百零二岁,在他最后一次生日那天,他喝了杯热的烈性酒.他告沂记者们说,喝烈性酒是他日常的习惯,他所以长寿得归功于此.这消息一时引起轰动.他为此十分得意.她想逗惹科妮莉亚一下."科妮莉亚！科妮莉亚！"没有听见脚步声,但突然之间却有一只手放在她的脸颊上."好啊,你上哪儿去了？""就在这儿,妈妈.""科妮莉亚,我要一杯热的烈性酒.""你觉得冷吗,亲爱的？""凉飕飕的,躺在床上血脉不流通.我对你说过多少次了."她正巧听到科妮莉亚对她丈夫说,妈妈越来越孩子气了,他们不得不哄哄她.最使她恼火的是,科妮莉亚认为她既聋又哑,又失明.这些人就在她身边递眼色,做着小动作,还当着她的面说,"别惹恼她,她爱怎样就怎样吧,她都八十了."而她呢,坐在那里,就象关在玻璃笼子里一样.有时候,老奶奶几乎打定主意想卷起铺盖搬回自己老家去,在自己家里不会再有人随时随刻提醒她她年纪大了.你等着吧,科妮莉亚,总有一天你自己的儿女会在你背后议论你呢！在她当年管事的时候,家务料理得好得多,事情也干得多.有一次莉迪亚因为她的一个孩子行为不轨,特地从八十哩外开车赶来征求老奶奶的意见,那时莉迪亚可没有嫌她年迈不懂事理.杰米仍然常来同她商量事情："妈妈,你精明能干,我想听听你对这件事怎么看？……"年纪老了？！科妮莉亚不请教过她就不知道该怎样搬动家俱.可爱的小东西,孩子们小的时候多可爱啊.老奶奶多么希望逝去的岁月失而复得啊,孩子们仍然年幼,-切可以从新做起.过去的日子并不好过,可她还是经受住了.她想到她亲手烹调的饭菜,裁剪缝制的衣裤,修整培育的花园--她所做的一切,从孩子们的身上可以看得出来.孩子们一个个都是从她身上脱胎而出的,他们谁也不能回避这一点.有时她真想再见到约翰,指着孩子们对他说,怎么样,我干得还不坏吧！但是这还得等等.那是明天的事.她想到约翰时,总是把他想成一个年轻汉子.可是现在所有的孩子都比他们的爸爸年岁大了.如果再见到约翰,他站在她身旁准会象是一个孩子.这个念头似乎有些怪,有些不对头.哎,他不可能再认得出她来了.她曾经亲自掘洞竖柱子,圈进了一百英亩土地,还扎起了铁丝网,只雇了一个黑孩子做帮手.这种活儿可会使女人变样.约翰心目中的妻子一定还是高高的发髻里插着西班牙木梳,手拿一把彩扇的年轻妇人.掘洞竖柱的活会使女人变样的.寒冬腊月女人带着孩子在农村马路上驾车又是一件事：马病了,黑奴仆病了,孩子们也都病了,女人天天熬夜,可最后还是把孩子们都拖大了,没有一个夭折的.约翰,我可一个孩子都没有丢啊！这件事约翰一眼就可以看出来,她不必作任何解释,他就会明白的！想到这儿她真想马上卷起袖管重整家务.不管科妮莉亚是不是下定决心什么都要管到,这里总还有不少该做的事没有做.她明天就动手干这些事.即使你所做的一切就在你的手边溜走,消失,化为乌有,因此在你做完以后,你几乎完全忘记你一开始想完成什么事,但是有精力干这干那总是好的.我本来是打算做什么来的？她急切地问自己,但是她可记不起来了.山谷里升起薄雾,她看着它飘过小溪,吞没了树林,象-群幽灵向山峰移动.不消多久雾气就会吹到果园旁边,是该进屋点灯的时辰了.进来吧,孩子,夜幕已经降临,不要再呆在户外了.点灯时的情景十分美妙.孩子们簇拥在她身边,喘着气,就像暮色朦胧时等在栅栏旁的牛仔一样.他们的眼睛随着火柴移动,看着火焰冒起,周围一圈蓝光,然后才一个个走开去.灯亮了,他们不再害怕,不必要再缠住母亲不放了.再也不,再也不了.上帝啊,我衷心地感谢您.我的上帝,没有您我可决然做不到这一点.万福马利亚,感谢您.今年我要你们把果子都摘下来,不要有任何浪费.总有人可以派它用场的.千万不要因为没用它而听任好东西白白地烂掉.浪费食品就是浪费生命.不要丢失东西,丢了是可惜的.好吧,现在不要再驱使我东想西想了,我疲倦了,饭前想打一个盹……枕头突然从她的双肩升起,压在她的胸口上,把埋在心底的往事都要挤压出来了：啊,快来人把枕头推开吧！这枕头可要把她闷死了,如果她想就这样躺着的话.这一天微风轻拂,温暖如春,吉吉利利的.可是尽管如此他还是没有来.女人已经蒙上白色面纱,准备好结婚蛋糕,而男的却还没有来,她该怎么办呢？她竭力回忆.不,除了这一次外,他可从来没有伤害过我呀.除了这一次,从来没有伤害过我……如果伤害过我,又怎么样呢？是有那么一天,那一天,一股黑烟袅袅升起把那一天遮盖住了,黑烟逐渐蔓延开来,飘到阳光灿烂的田野,那里庄稼种植得井井有条.那是地狱,她一见就知道.六十年来她一直在祈祷,希望永远不要再想起他,不要使自己的灵魂堕入地狱的万丈深渊.可现在,她刚刚摆脱了哈里医生,想休息一会时,这两件可怕的事竟然融成了一体：对他的回忆就象是从地狱深处升起的烟雾在她的脑海里浮荡.突然在脑顶盖处响起了一个尖锐的声音：艾伦,这是受挫的虚荣心.可别让这种受挫的虚荣心占了上风啊.很多女孩子都遭到过被遗弃的命运,你是给遗弃了,是吗？那么勇敢坚强地面对现实吧.她的眼皮抖动着,青灰色的光芒,象一张薄纸遮盖在眼皮上,在她眼前闪烁.她必须起身去把窗帘拉上,不然的话一定睡不着.她又回到了床上,可是窗帘还是没有拉上.咦,这是怎么回事？最好翻过身去,背对着亮光,在亮光里入睡是会做恶梦的."妈妈,你感觉怎样？"刺骨的潮湿贴在她的前额.我可不喜欢用冷水洗脸！海普西？乔治？莉迪亚？吉米？不,是科妮莉亚.她整个脸都浮肿着,还有很多小水洼."他们都在路上了,亲爱的,他们马上就要到了."去洗脸去,孩子,你看上去真可笑.科妮莉亚没有顺从,却跪了下来,把头放在枕头上.她好象在说些什么,可是却没有发出声音."喂,你怎么了,舌头说不出话来？今天是谁的生日？你要举行一次宴会吗？"科妮莉亚的嘴唇动个不停,歪扭成奇怪的形状."别这样,女儿,你可把我弄糊涂了.""哦,不,妈妈,不……"废话,孩子们可真奇怪.每讲一句话他们都要同你争辩."不什么,科妮莉亚？""哈里医生来了.""我不想再见这孩子,他才离开我不过五分钟.""那是今天早晨的事,妈妈,现在已经是夜里了.这是护士.""我是哈里医生,风霜太太.我从来没有见过你这样年轻和高兴！""啊,我可不会再变得年轻了——不过要是他们让我安安静静休息一会,那我会高兴的."她以为自己说话声音很响,可是却没有人回答她.一块暖洋洋的东西压在她的前额,一付暖洋洋的手镯套在她手腕上,微风带来阵阵耳语,想要告诉她些什么.象是神圣上帝玉手中沙沙曳动的树叶,上帝吹着气,叶子到处飞舞,嘎嘎作响."妈妈,别担心,我们要给你皮下注射一针.""女儿,你看,蚂蚁怎么爬到床上来了？昨天我还看见糖蚁呐."你有没有去把海普西也找来？她真正想见的是海普西.要想见到海普西抱着孩子站在那儿,她可得倒回很多很多年,穿过很多很多房间才行.她好象自己就是海普西,海普西抱着的孩子原来就是海普西自己,他自己和她自己变成了同一个人,这样的会面没有什么大惊小怪的.于是海普西从内部融化了,变得轻飘飘的象一块灰色的薄纱,孩子也成了薄轻透明的影子.海普西走近来说,"我以为你再也不会来了,"然后用探索的目光,仔细打量着她说,"你一点也没有变！"她们凑近身子想要亲吻,这时从很远的地方传来科妮莉亚的低声话语,"啊,你要对我说什么？我能为你做点什么吗？"是啊,六十年过去了,她的想法也改变了,她想见见乔治.我要你去把乔治找来.找到乔治一定告诉他我已经把他忘了.我要他知道,我同其它女人一样还是有自己的丈夫,有自己的孩子和房子.而且是很好的房子,很好的丈夫,我爱他,我同他生了很好的孩子.这一切甚至比我原先希望得到的还要好.告诉他吧,他从我这儿拿走的一切我都失而复得了,而且得到的比失去的还要多.唉,不,唉,上帝,不,除了房子,丈夫和孩子外还得有其它的东西.哦,他们当然还不是一切吧？那是什么呢,我没有复得的东西……呼吸壅塞在肋骨下面,可怕地膨胀着,象带有利刃的刀口刺痛着她,直冲上她的脑袋,这种痛苦简直难以想象：对,约翰,现在去把医生请来吧,别再啰嗦了,我的时间已经到了.这孩子出生的时候,该是最后一个了.最后一个.它本应该是第一个出生的,因为这孩子是她真正想要的一个.一切都是与时赶到,没有漏掉什么,也没有遗留下什么.她很强壮,三天一过就完全恢复了.还更健康一些.女人需要奶汁,才能体质强壮."妈妈,你听见我说话吗？""我在对你说--""妈妈,康诺利神父在这儿.""我上个星期还去参加过圣餐会,告诉他我可没有犯那么多罪.""神父只是想同你谈谈."他爱谈多少就谈多少吧.他这个人就是这样：总爱进来关心关心她的灵魂,好象她是一个刚出牙齿的婴儿.然后神父会留下来喝上一杯茶,打圈桥牌,闲聊聊.他总会有些笑话要说,通常是关于某个爱尔兰人,犯了一些小错误前来忏悔；问题是在忏悔中他总是会不知不觉地透露出某些可笑的事,表现出他在天赋的虔诚和原始的罪孽之间所进行的斗争.老奶奶对自己灵魂的无辜是心安理得的.科妮莉亚,你怎么一点礼貌也不懂了？给康诺利神父让坐.她同一些要好的姨姑们已私下达成相当不错的谅解,她们为她顺利回到创世主身边扫清了道路.一切都已经同这新购进的四十英亩土地的文件那样盖章签定了.永远不变……继承人和受让人永远不变.那一天,结婚蛋糕原只未动地丢了,浪费掉了,大地一下子穿了底,她面前一片漆黑,汗水淋漓,双脚腾空,四壁坍塌,突然他的双手从胸部托住了她,她没有倒下来.脚底下是新近上过漆的地板,上面还铺着绿色的地毯,同以往一样.他象水手的鹦鹉一般赌咒发誓地说,"我一定为你报仇雪恨杀了他."别碰他,为了我的缘故,让上帝惩罚他吧."艾伦,你该相信我对你说的话……"再没有什么事情要令人担心的了,除了有时候半夜里孩子突然在梦呓中惊叫起来.于是他俩急忙爬起身,手发着抖,到处摸火柴,一面叫着,"别怕,等一下,我们就在这儿."约翰,去找医生吧,海普西恐怕不行了.可是海普西不是戴着一顶白帽子站在床旁边吗."科妮莉亚,叫海普西把帽子拿下来,我看不清楚她的脸."她双眼睁得大大的,这房间象是她在哪里见过的一幅画.昏暗的颜色,阴影成长角形直升到天花板.高大的深色梳妆台微微发光,台面上什么都没有,只放着一张约翰的照片,是一张小照片放大的.约翰的眼睛本来是蓝颜色的,而照片上却是深黑色.你从来没有见过他,怎么知道他是什么模样儿？但是那个人偏说这张照十分逼真,人显得丰满而漂亮.作为照片当然可以这么说,可那不是我丈夫.床旁的桌子上铺着台布,上面放着一支蜡烛和一个十字架.从科妮利亚的丝织灯罩下透出的是蓝色灯光.根本算不上什么灯光,只是一片浮光掠影.你得在火油灯下度过了四十年,才会欣赏这种不出毛病的电灯.她感到自身健壮无比,她看见哈里医生头上有一圈玫瑰色光轮."你看上去象一位圣徒,哈里医生.我敢起誓,你最多也只不过能象个圣徒罢了.""她在说话呢.""我听见你的话了,科妮莉亚,你们在干些啥呀？""康诺利神父说——"科妮莉亚的声音就象一辆马车行走在坎坷不平的马路上颠簸起伏.它拐弯摸角,又转了回来.老奶奶轻轻爬了起来伸手去捡缰绳,可是有一个男人正坐在她身旁驾车呢.她从他的一双手就知道这男人是谁.她没有看他的脸,因为不看他,她也知道那是谁.她看着这条路,两旁树木向路中心倾斜,千百只鸟儿唱着弥撒.她也想唱,但却从胸口衣服里抽出一串念珠,康诺利神父用非常严肃的声音低声念着拉丁文,一面却逗她的脚心,弄得她心痒痒地.天哪,你别胡闹好不好？我可是结了婚的女人.如果他真的跑开了,留下我独个对付这个神父,可怎么办？我找到了另外一个人,胜过他不知多少倍,除了圣•迈克尔本人,我可不愿意把丈夫去换任何人呐.你可以替我把这句话告诉他,还可加上一句谢谢.她紧闭着的眼皮感到闪过一束亮光,接着一声低沉的轰鸣震动了她全身.科妮莉亚,那是闪电吗？我听到雷鸣声,暴风雨要来了.快去关窗,把孩子们都喊进屋……"妈妈,我们都在这里,我们都在.""是你吗,海普西？""哦,不是,我是利迪亚.我们开足马力尽快赶来了."一张张脸庞在她面前飘浮着,飘过去了.念珠从她手里滑了出来,利迪亚把它放回她手里.吉米想插手帮忙,他们的手摸到了一块,老奶奶的两只手指抓住了吉米的大姆指.这不可能是念珠,一定是有生命的东西.她十分惊异自己怎么思绪万千,东旋西转,不能自已.亲爱的主啊,我的末日来临了吧,我简直还没有想到它呢.啊,我最厌恶出奇不意的事.我要给科妮莉亚那付紫晶手饰——科妮莉亚,你可以得到那付紫晶手饰,但海普西想要用的时候你得给她戴.哈里医生,你闭上嘴巴吧.没有人请你来.啊,我亲爱的主啊,再等一下吧.关于那四十英亩土地我还打算安排一下呢.吉米是不需要的,而利迪亚嫁了这样一个不成器的丈夫以后会需要的.我还想把那一块祭台上用的布做好,还要给波几亚修女送六瓶酒去,医治她的消化不良症.康诺利神父,我要给波几亚修女送六瓶洒去,这次可别忘了.科妮莉亚嗓音短促,变了调,最后嘶喊出声,"哦,妈妈,哦,妈妈,哦,妈妈……""我还不想走呢,科妮莉亚.这是突然袭击,我还不能走呐."你会见到海普西的.她怎么样了？"我以为你再也不会来了."老奶奶朝外走,走了很远,寻找海普西.如果找不到她,怎么办？那怎么办呢？她的心往下沉,一直往下沉,死亡是没有底的,她走不到尽头.科妮莉亚的灯罩下透出的蓝光在她头脑的中心缩成了一小点,象只眼睛一样闪烁不定,它悄悄地飘动,越缩越小.老奶奶躺在那里,卷缩成一团,惊异地注视着这一点光,这是她自己.她的躯体现在只是无边无际的黑暗中的一块黑影,而这无边无际的黑暗将向这一光点包围过来,最后把它吞没.上帝哪,请您显显灵吧.这是第二次,神迹还是没有出现.屋里还是没有新郎和神父①.她记不起还有什么其它的悲痛,因为这一次的悲痛把一切都淹没了.啊,不,没有什么比这次更残酷的了--我永远不原谅它.她深深地吸了一口气,伸直了身体,吹灭了灯.。

The Analysis of Stream of Consciousness Technique in The Jilting of Granny WeatherallAbstractKatherine Anne Porter was a famous short story writer in the 19th century. “The Jilting of Granny Weath erall” is one of her masterpieces. Through the close reading of the original text, this article aims to analyze the different kinds of stream of consciousness technique, such as time montage, interior monologue and multiple points of view in this short story, which contributes tremendously to the development of this story.Key words:stream of consciousness; interior monologue; time montage; multiple-point-of-view; free association.Born in 1890, Katherine Anne Porter was mainly famous for her short stories which are considered to be beyond comparison of all time. Her ever lasting fame lies in her endeavor to be strict with her writing. She is a “publicly recognized stylistic in the critic circle” (Tan 27 ). The Jilting of Granny Weatherall is a representative work of Porter’s short story. In the story, the autho r employs the technique of stream of consciousness fluently and deftly.Though simple in content and language, “The Jilting of Granny Weatherall” is considered to be a masterpiece of Porter’s short stories. The story unfolds during the dying moment of the suc cessfully “weather-all” things Granny Weat herall who is almost eighty years old. On the very moment of her last day, the fortitude granny finally reviewed her past and faced directly to the secret kept within her heart. The secret was that when she young and get married, her fiance, George, did not appear at the alter. One never knows why the man jilted Granny Weatherall, nor does one know the feeling of young Granny Weatherall at that time, however, she must be deeply hurt and suffering from lifelong embarrassment. Without deep thought, she quickly married with another man named John. Seemingly, the fate has complemented the Granny and brought her another man. In fact, she was jilted again. The man died at a young age and left all the life burden to the twice jilted granny. She had no choice but to be strong and able. She brought her five children up and did all the hard work on her own. She has managed to weather it all and has proved herself to be a truly wonderful and admirable woman. Finally, the last day of the tough woman came. When she was in the unconscious consciousness, she shuttled back and forth between past and present. Once again she thought of the gnawing memory of George. Evidently, she could not forget George and the life long embarassment he brought to her. She would like to tell him about what a wonderful life she had. By saying so, she could revenge on him. Finally, the old granny died and stopped all the conscious and unconscious thought.The plot of The Jilting of Granny Weatherall is non-linear and fragmentary. It serves as a good example of the stream of consciousness technique. Meanwhile, by employing the technique, the author successfully presents the dying moment of theold lady whose reminiscent of the past is quite chaotic. Her consciousness is sometimes in the here and now, while sometimes it jumps to the back and past.Firstly, the author uses the time montage technique in the story. “Originally, montage is a term used in the film art, referring to the rearrangement in a certain space of different pictures in different times and places.” (Li 108). In order to break the bounds of natural clock time, Porter employs the time montage. The stream of consciousness fiction writers frequently adopt time montage and space montage in their work to reveal the character s’consciousness. Time montage in the stream of consciousness work means that wihtin a certain space, the characters’ consciousness goes beyond the time limits, and freely moves between the past, the present and the future. It is an effective way of revealing the change of the characters’consciousness, and enable the characters’ life experiences in different stages to be fully manifested and interlocked and overlapped within a certain limited space, and thus displaying the pluralistic and three-dimensional effects. In “The Jilting of Granny Weatherall”, the author skillfully and successfully uses time montage. Here is a typical example. “The pillow rose about her shoulders and pressed against her heart and the memory was being squeezed out of it: oh, push down the pillow, it would smother her if she tried to hold it. But he had not come, just the same. What does a woman do when she has put on the hit veil and set out the white cake for a man and he doesn't come?She tried to remember. No, I swear he never harmed me but in that. He never harmed me but in that…and what if he did? There was the day, the day, but a whirl of dark s ick rose and covered. It crept up and over into the bright field where everything was planted so carefully in orderly rows. That was hell, she knew hell when she saw it. For sixty years she had prayed against remembering him and against losing her soul in the deep pit of hell, and now the two things were mingled in one and the thought of him was a smoky cloud from hell that moved and crept in her head when she had just got rid of Doctor Harry and was trying to rest a minute. Wounded vanity, Ellen, said a sharp voice in the top of her mind. Don’t let your wounded vanity get the upper hand of you. Plenty of g irls get jilted. You were jilted, weren’t you? Then stand up to it. Her eyelids wavered and let in streamers of blue-light like tissue paper over her eyes. She must get up and pull the shades were not down. How could that happen? Better turn over, hide fro m the light, sleeping in the light gave you nightmares.” By placing the experience of past and present together, the author reproduces the life track of the granny. I t involves the reader’s thought to flow freely with the unconscious granny and generally k nows the basic experience of the tragic character. Later on, the writer’s experience once again flashes back to the present with the protagonist.Secondly, the author uses the interior and narrated monologue. Interior monologue refers to the unspoken psychological language or language consciousness in the char acters’ mind expressed through free speech. In the interior monologue, without the disruption of the narrator, what is going on in the characters’ mind flows out freely and faithfully with more direct ness and vividness. Porter writes that “She flicked her wrist neatly out of Doctor’s Harry’s pudgy careful fingers and p ulled the sheet up to her chin. The brat ought to be in knee breeches. Doctoring around the country with spectacles on the nose! Get along now, take your schoolbooks and go.There’s nothing wrong with me. Well, and what if she was? She still had cars. It was like Comelia to whisper around the doors. She always kept things secret in such a public way. She was always being tactful and kind. Comelia was dutiful; that was the trouble with her. Dutiful and good: “So good and dutiful” said Granny, “that I’d like to spank her.” She saw herself spanking Comelia and making a fine job of it.” By using the interior monologue, Granny’s in nermost thought was presented, while sometimes the narrated monologue slipped in and thus the two kinds of narration intercourse with each other. Just like the conscious present and unconscious past are juxtaposed. It makes the reader know more about both the present and the past.Thirdly, the author uses the multiple-point-of-view. A well-suited point of view is significant for both the overall structure and the artistic effect of a literary work. The choice of the point of view in “The Jilting of Granny Weatherall” undoubtedly reveals Porter’s creative power as an excellent stylist, and is also an important factor that accounts for the artistic success of the work. The story in “The Jilting of Granny Weatherall” develops on two parallel levels. One is the objective world, on which the author records Granny’s constant change beween her state of comma and that of sobriety before her death; the other is Granny’s subjective world, on which the author deals with Granny’s flow of consciousness. To perfectly combine these two levels in the work, the author employs the multiple-point-of-view through the alternate use of the omniscient point of view, which records Granny’s change between her states of comma and sobriety, and the internal point of view, which reveals Granny’s mental activities. “Meant to wave good-bye, but it was too much trouble. Her eyes closed of themselves. It was like a dark curtain drawn around the bed. The pillow rose and floated under her, pleasant as a hammer in a light wind. She listened to the leaves rustling outside the window. No, somebody was swishing newspaper: No, Comelia and Doctor Harry were whispering together. She leaped broad awake, thinking they whispered in the ea r.”There is a constant change between granny’s co mma state and her sobriety. In order to develop the story smoothly, the author employed the multiple point of view in depicting the story. On the first hand, the author depicted the objective world and behaviors of the people confronting granny’s dying. On the other hand, the author exhibited the innermost mental activities of the old granny.Fourthly the author also uses free asssociation. It refers to the process of the aimless and illogical flow of the characters’consciousness. The characters’consciousness in a stream of consciousness work does not follow the time sequence; instead, the consciousness about the past, the present and the future interweaves; the characters sometimes focus their consciousness on eternal reality, sometimes on imagination and internal reality, namely, the characters’consciousness flows to and fro between the external world and the internal world. And in either case, certain catalytic agents are needed to activate the characters’ imagination.In the Jilting of Granny Weatherall, the use of free association is a very important method for presenting Granny’s consciousness. And similarly, the catalytic agents that activate Granny’s consciousness come from certain stimuli either in the objective world or in Granny herself. These stimuli first result in the sense impression in Granny’s head, and then lead to her consciousness activities. For instances: fristly,Granny imagines that the pillow on the bed flows under her; this causes her to think of the swerving hammock in the light wind; the swerving hammock in the light wind causes her to think of the leaves rustling in the wind outside the window; the rustling leaves in the wind lead to her illusion that Comelia and Doctor Harry are probably speaking ill of her; secondly, Comelia’s messy room causes Granny to recall the better housesshe has kept; the better houses she has kept lead her to recall the work she has done in her life, especially the farm-work and child raising; the work she has done leads to her pride; her pride causes her to wish that John would be back again to see her children; the work she has already done at the same time makes her think of the many things left unone and feel energetic about setting to work at the present; thirdly, Granny’s need of fresh air in the room in which she is now confined causes her to think of the wedding dy with a fresh breeze; her recalling of the wedding day leads her to recall her jilting by George; her jilting by George leads to her recalling of how she has been suffering from the struggle of trying to remember and forget him in the past sixty years. The use of free association in The Jilting of Granny Weatherall helos the major events in Granny’s life to present themselves naturally and smoothly, and thus expands the time and space of the narration.Through the frequent change of montage, multiple point of view and interior monologue, Porter smartly and deftly portrays the dying moment of the old granny. The readers thus get a panorama of the fortitud e, strong, tolerant old granny’s whole life. The technique also contributes a lot to the theme and content of the story. The perfect combination of the structure and content made this short story an enduring success in literary. “T he Jilting of Granny Weatherall”is a successfully managed classical stream of consciousness techniques. Through the frequent shift between the omniscient point of view and the internal point of view, and the use of interior monologue together with indirect interior monologue, she makes the narration unfold itself on the two levels of the external objective world and the internal subjective world, revealing on the one hand the change of Granny’s illness on the last day of her life, and on the other her rich and complex mental activities, thus manifesting the image of Granny in a three-dimensional way; through the use of free association and time montage, she presents in a limited amout of time all the major events in Granny’s life, expands the amount of information in the work, gives the reader the opportunity to fully grasp Granny’s personality, highlights the theme of the work, and enriches its connotations; besides, the stream of consciousness techniques enormously add to the artistic brilliance of the work, making it one of Porter’s most popular short stories and one of the most widely read short stories in modern American literature.Bibliography李维屏：《英美意识流小说》。