《简·爱》（Jane Eyre）十九世纪英国著名女作家夏洛蒂·勃朗特的代表作，人们普遍认为《简·爱》是夏洛蒂·勃朗特“诗意的生平写照”，是一部具有自传色彩的作品。讲述了一位从小变成孤儿的英国女子在各种磨难中不断追求自由与尊严，坚持自我，最终获得幸福的故事。本书为英文原版，同时提供配套英文朗读免费下载，下载方式详见图书封底博客链接。让读者在阅读精彩故事的同时，亦能提升英文阅读水平。
《简·爱》（Jane Eyre）十九世纪英国著名女作家夏洛蒂·勃朗特的代表作，人们普遍认为《简·爱》是夏洛蒂·勃朗特“诗意的生平写照”，是一部具有自传色彩的作品。讲述了一位从小变成孤儿的英国女子在各种磨难中不断追求自由与尊严，坚持自我，最终获得幸福的故事。小说引人入胜地展示了男女主人公曲折起伏的爱情经历，歌颂了摆脱一切旧习俗和偏见，成功塑造了一个敢于反抗，敢于争取自由和平等地位的妇女形象。
这本小说的主题通过对孤女坎坷不平的人生经历，成功地塑造了一个不安于现状、不甘受辱、敢于抗争的女性形象，反映了一个平凡心灵的坦诚倾诉的呼号和责难，由一个小写的人成为一个大写的人的渴望。小说通过罗切斯特两次截然不同的爱情经历，批判了以金钱为基础的婚姻和爱情观，并始终把简·爱和罗切斯特之间的爱情描写为思想、才能、品质与精神上的完全默契。
本书为英文原版，同时提供配套英文朗读免费下载，让读者在阅读精彩故事的同时，亦能提升英文阅读水平。
Jane Eyre (originally published as Jane Eyre: An Autobiography) is a novel by English writer Charlotte Bront?. It was published in 1847, under the pen name “Currer Bell”.
Primarily of the bildungsroman genre, Jane Eyre follows the emotions and experiences of its title character, including her growth to adulthood and her love for Mr. Rochester, the Byronic master of fictitious Thornfield Hall. In its internalisation of the action—the focus is on the gradual unfolding of Jane's moral and spiritual sensibility, and all the events are coloured by a heightened intensity that was previously the domain of poetry—Jane Eyre revolutionised the art of fiction. Charlotte Bront? has been called the “first historian of the private consciousness” and the literary ancestor of writers, like Joyce and Proust. The novel contains elements of social criticism, with a strong sense of morality at its core, but is nonetheless a novel many consider ahead of its time given the individualistic character of Jane and the novel's exploration of classism, sexuality, religion, and proto-feminism.
Jane Eyre may not be the first feminist novel, but it is certainly one of the most enduring. There have been at least 20 movie and television versions of Charlotte Bront?’s gothic love story, even more than of Emma or Pride and Prejudice.
夏洛蒂·勃朗特（Charlotte Bronte，1816-1855年），英国小说家，生于贫苦的牧师家庭，曾在寄宿学校学习，后任教师和家庭教师。1847年，夏洛蒂·勃朗特出版著名的长篇小说《简·爱》，轰动文坛。1848年秋到1849年她的弟弟和两个妹妹相继去世。在死亡的阴影和困惑下，她坚持完成了《谢利》一书，寄托了她对妹妹艾米莉的哀思，并描写了英国早期自发的工人运动。夏洛蒂·勃朗特善于以抒情的笔法描写自然景物，作品具有浓厚的感情色彩。
CHAPTER 1 /1CHAPTER 2 /7CHAPTER 3 /15CHAPTER 4 /25CHAPTER 5 /43CHAPTER 6 /58CHAPTER 7 /67CHAPTER 8 /77CHAPTER 9 /86CHAPTER 10 /95CHAPTER 11 /108CHAPTER 12 /126CHAPTER 13 /139CHAPTER 14 /152CHAPTER 15 /166CHAPTER 16 /181CHAPTER 17 /192CHAPTER 18 /215CHAPTER 19 /233CHAPTER 20 /246CHAPTER 21 /263CHAPTER 22 /288CHAPTER 23 /296CHAPTER 24 /308CHAPTER 25 /329CHAPTER 26 /344CHAPTER 27 /356CHAPTER 28 /386CHAPTER 29 /408CHAPTER 30 /421CHAPTER 31 /432CHAPTER 32 /441CHAPTER 33 /454CHAPTER 34 /470CHAPTER 35 /497CHAPTER 36 /509CHAPTER 37 /521CHAPTER 38 /545
There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question. I was glad of it: I never liked long walks, especially on chilly afternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight, with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidings of Bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed. The said Eliza, John, and Georgiana were now clustered round their mama in the drawing-room: she lay reclined on a sofa by the fireside, and with her darlings about her (for the time neither quarrelling nor crying) looked perfectly happy. Me, she had dispensed from joining the group; saying, “She regretted to be under the necessity of keeping me at a distance; but that until she heard from Bessie, and could discover by her own observation, that I was endeavouring in good earnest to acquire a more sociable and childlike disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner—something lighter, franker, more natural, as it were—she really must exclude me from privileges intended only for contented, happy, little children.” “What does Bessie say I have done?” I asked. “Jane, I don’t like cavillers or questioners; besides, there is something truly forbidding in a child taking up her elders in that manner. Be seated somewhere; and until you can speak pleasantly, remain silent.” A breakfast-room adjoined the drawing-room, I slipped in there. It contained a bookcase: I soon possessed myself of a volume, taking care that it should be one stored with pictures. I mounted into the window-seat: gathering up my feet, I sat crosslegged, like a Turk; and, having drawn the red moreen curtain nearly close, I was shrined in double retirement. Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day. At intervals, while turning over the leaves of my book, I studied the aspect of that winter afternoon. Afar, it offered a pale blank of mist and cloud; near a scene of wet lawn and storm-beat shrub, with ceaseless rain sweeping away wildly before a long and lamentable blast. I returned to my book—Bewick’s History of British Birds: the letterpress thereof I cared little for, generally speaking; and yet there were certain introductory pages that, child as I was, I could not pass quite as a blank. They were those which treat of the haunts of sea-fowl; of “the solitary rocks and promontories” by them only inhabited; of the coast of Norway, studded with isles from its southern extremity, the Lindeness, or Naze, to the North Cape— “Where the Northern Ocean, in vast whirls, Boils round the naked, melancholy isles Of farthest Thule; and the Atlantic surge Pours in among the stormy Hebrides.” Nor could I pass unnoticed the suggestion of the bleak shores of Lapland, Siberia, Spitzbergen, Nova Zembla, Iceland, Greenland, with “the vast sweep of the Arctic Zone, and those forlorn regions of dreary space, —that reservoir of frost and snow, where firm fields of ice, the accumulation of centuries of winters, glazed in Alpine heights above heights, surround the pole, and concentre the multiplied rigours of extreme cold.” Of these death-white realms I formed an idea of my own: shadowy, like all the half-comprehended notions that float dim through children’s brains, but strangely impressive. The words in these introductory pages connected themselves with the succeeding vignettes, and gave significance to the rock standing up alone in a sea of billow and spray; to the broken boat stranded on a desolate coast; to the cold and ghastly moon glancing through bars of cloud at a wreck just sinking. ……
A preface to the first edition of “Jane Eyre” being unnecessary, I gave none: this second edition demands a few words both of acknowledgment and miscellaneous remark. My thanks are due in three quarters. To the Public, for the indulgent ear it has inclined to a plain tale with few pretensions. To the Press, for the fair field its honest suffrage has opened to an obscure aspirant. To my Publishers, for the aid their tact, their energy, their practical sense and frank liberality have afforded an unknown and unrecommended Author. The Press and the Public are but vague personifications for me, and I must thank them in vague terms; but my Publishers are definite: so are certain generous critics who have encouraged me as only largehearted and high-minded men know how to encourage a struggling stranger; to them, i.e., to my Publishers and the select Reviewers, I say cordially, Gentlemen, I thank you from my heart. Having thus acknowledged what I owe those who have aided and approved me, I turn to another class; a small one, so far as I know, but not, therefore, to be overlooked. I mean the timorous or carping few who doubt the tendency of such books as “Jane Eyre:” in whose eyes whatever is unusual is wrong; whose ears detect in each protest against bigotry—that parent of crime—an insult to piety, that regent of God on earth. I would suggest to such doubters certain obvious distinctions; I would remind them of certain simple truths. Conventionality is not morality. Self-righteousness is not religion. To attack the first is not to assail the last. To pluck the mask from the face of the Pharisee, is not to lift an impious hand to the Crown of Thorns. These things and deeds are diametrically opposed: they are as distinct as is vice from virtue. Men too often confound them: they should not be confounded: appearance should not be mistaken for truth; narrow human doctrines, that only tend to elate and magnify a few, should not be substituted for the world-redeeming creed of Christ. There is—I repeat it—a difference; and it is a good, and not a bad action to mark broadly and clearly the line of separation between them. The world may not like to see these ideas dissevered, for it has been accustomed to blend them; finding it convenient to make external show pass for sterling worth—to let white-washed walls vouch for clean shrines. It may hate him who dares to scrutinize and expose—to rase the gilding, and show base metal under it—to penetrate the sepulchre, and reveal charnel relics: but hate as it will, it is indebted to him. Ahab did not like Micaiah, because he never prophesied good concerning him, but evil; probably he liked the sycophant son of Chenaannah better; yet might Ahab have escaped a bloody death, had he but stopped his ears to flattery, and opened them to faithful counsel. There is a man in our own days whose words are not framed to tickle delicate ears: who, to my thinking, comes before the great ones of society, much as the son of Imlah came before the throned Kings of Judah and Israel; and who speaks truth as deep, with a power as prophet-like and as vital—a mien as dauntless and as daring. Is the satirist of “Vanity Fair” admired in high places? I cannot tell; but I think if some of those amongst whom he hurls the Greek fire of his sarcasm, and over whom he flashes the levin-brand of his denunciation, were to take his warnings in time—they or their seed might yet escape a fatal Rimoth-Gilead. Why have I alluded to this man? I have alluded to him, Reader, because I think I see in him an intellect profounder and more unique than his contemporaries have yet recognised; because I regard him as the first social regenerator of the day—as the very master of that working corps who would restore to rectitude the warped system of things; because I think no commentator on his writings has yet found the comparison that suits him, the terms which rightly characterize his talent. They say he is like Fielding: they talk of his wit, humour, comic powers. He resembles Fielding as an eagle does a vulture: Fielding could stoop on carrion, but Thackeray never does. His wit is bright, his humour attractive, but both bear the same relation to his serious genius that the mere lambent sheet-lightning playing under the edge of the summer-cloud does to the electric death-spark hid in its womb. Finally, I have alluded to Mr. Thackeray, because to him— if he will accept the tribute of a total stranger—I have dedicated this second edition of “Jane Eyre.” CURRER BELL. December 21st, 1847. NOTE TO THE THIRD EDITION I avail myself of the opportunity which a third edition of “Jane Eyre” affords me, of again addressing a word to the Public, to explain that my claim to the title of novelist rests on this one work alone. If, therefore, the authorship of other works of fiction has been attributed to me, an honour is awarded where it is not merited; and consequently, denied where it is justly due. This explanation will serve to rectify mistakes which may already have been made, and to prevent future errors. CURRER BELL. April 13th, 1848.
这本小说的力量简直是无声的雷霆，它不动声色地挖掘了人性的幽微之处，那种对自我价值的坚韧渴求，在那个压抑的时代背景下显得尤为珍贵。我读完后，脑海中久久不能散去的是那种深入骨髓的孤独感，以及主人公如何用她那看似微弱却无比坚定的内在精神去对抗整个世界的冷漠与偏见。她的成长轨迹，并非一帆风顺的晋升之路，而是一系列关于尊严、道德和爱的艰难抉择。我尤其欣赏作者在描绘人物内心挣扎时的细腻笔触，那些细微的情感波动，那种灵魂深处的悸动与痛苦，都被刻画得入木三分。她对独立思考的坚持，对虚伪矫饰的摒弃，让我感到一种强烈的共鸣，仿佛看到了那个时代女性在寻求自我解放道路上所经历的种种隐形枷锁。每一次挫折都像是对她精神的锤炼，让她最终能够以一个完整而强大的自我形象站立起来。这本书不仅仅是一个关于爱情的故事，它更是一部关于如何成为“自己”的宣言，那种毫不妥协的自我实现，才是最动人心魄的部分。
对我个人而言，阅读体验中最振奋人心的一点，是主人公在面对巨大诱惑和压力时所展现出的那份对“原则”的坚守。她从不为了物质的安逸或表面的光鲜而牺牲自己内心最珍视的东西——那就是她作为独立个体的完整性与道德底线。这种坚持，在那个物质至上的世界里，无异于一种近乎殉道的勇气。我能深切感受到那种“宁为玉碎，不为瓦全”的决心，她用行动证明了，一个人的品格远比她所拥有的财富或地位更为重要。这本书就像一面棱镜，折射出人性的复杂与光辉，它没有美化苦难，而是直面苦难，并从中提炼出生命的价值和意义。读完之后，我感觉自己的精神世界被洗涤了一遍，对“何以为人”这个问题有了更深一层的敬畏与思考。
这本书的魅力在于它的“真实感”，尽管故事设定在遥远的过去，但其中探讨的关于阶级差异、贫富悬殊以及身份认同的议题，至今仍具有强烈的现实意义。我读到主人公在不同境遇中展现出的智慧与韧性时，不禁反思，在当今这个看似更加开放的社会里，我们是否依然在用新的形式，去定义和限制着那些与主流不符的“他者”？作者并没有给予任何简单的答案，她只是将残酷的现实铺陈开来，让读者自己去体会和消化其中的苦涩与甜蜜。特别是她对于情感的描绘，并非是那种一见钟情式的盲目崇拜，而是建立在深刻的理解、平等的尊重和长期的考验之上的，这种建立在灵魂契合基础上的情感连接，显得无比珍贵和来之不易。它教会我，真正的爱，必须是双方精神力量的相互扶持，而非一方对另一方的依附或拯救。
初次翻开这本书时，我本以为会看到一出传统的浪漫史诗，然而事实却远比那复杂、也深刻得多。这本书的叙事节奏处理得非常高明，它懂得如何张弛有度，在平淡的日常叙述中暗藏着足以颠覆一切的暗涌。我特别留意到作者对于环境的描写，那些阴郁的庄园、苍凉的乡野，它们不仅仅是故事发生的背景，更像是人物内心世界的投射，是无形的命运之手在不断施加压力。那种哥特式的氛围感营造得极其到位，让你在阅读时不由自主地屏住呼吸，仿佛能闻到古老石墙上散发出的潮湿气味。而那些配角的塑造，更是鬼斧神工，即便是出现篇幅不多的角色，也个性鲜明，栩栩如生，共同编织出了一张错综复杂的人性图谱。他们有的象征着禁锢，有的代表着诱惑，有的则是救赎的可能，每一个形象都服务于主题的深化，使得整个故事充满了张力和层次感。
老实说，这本书的语言风格有一种独特的古典韵味，初读时可能会觉得有些拗口，但一旦适应了那种精炼而富有节奏感的句式，就会发现其文字本身就是一种享受。那些排比、那些充满画面感的比喻，如同精心雕琢的艺术品，将复杂的情绪精准地凝固在了纸面上。我常常停下来，仅仅是为了细细品味某一句子的结构美和意境深远之处。这种文字上的美感，与故事内核所蕴含的社会批判精神形成了奇妙的张力，使得严肃的主题在优美的文字包装下，更具穿透力和感染力。它不像某些现代小说那样直白或喧哗，而是用一种含蓄、内敛的方式，展现出磅礴的力量，如同深埋地下的温泉，看似平静，实则蕴含着巨大的热能，等待着被发现和释放。
老婆大人，这本书咱家娃看得懂吗？
第一次在这里买书，活动很划算，屯了很多，都挺喜欢的，就是不知道什么时候才能看完啊。购物车里还存了一些喜欢的，希望下次做活动的时候，这些都看完了，继续再买啊。这个书中英文都有，挺实用的。京东送货速度很快，隔天就到了，非常专业。
好好好好好好好好好好好好好好好好好好好好好，
京东的东西不错，速度快。
老婆大人，这本书咱家娃看得懂吗？
终于盼到宝贝了，除了外包装，书还有一层膜保护。突然想到：为啥咱买的原版图书竟然没有用保护膜包裹起来？希望这方面改进，越做越好！
特别有用的教辅，还是618价格公道，买全了
不错哦 看起来挺高大上的 喜欢 价格优惠
开始以为是漫画书，买了给宝贝看的，结果是全英文的，只能自己先看了。质量不错！