[正版]英文原版 Island of the Blue Dolphins 蓝色的海豚岛 纽伯瑞金奖安徒生奖 儿童文学小说

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书名：Island of the Blue Dolphins 蓝色的海豚岛
难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数1000L
作者：Scott O’Dell
出版社名称：Puffin
出版时间：2016
语种：英文
ISBN：9780141368627
商品尺寸：12.9 x 1.4 x 19.8 cm
包装：平装
页数：224

Island of the Blue Dolphins《蓝色的海豚岛》是一部专门写给孩子、但同样对大人也充满魔力的历史小说，自出版以来，仅在美国本土就销售了600多万册。它被美国协会评为“1776年以来伟大的10部儿童文学作品”之一，并为作者获得了国际儿童文学奖的两项荣誉“纽伯瑞奖”和“安徒生奖”。
推荐理由：
1.一部情节跌宕的“女孩版”《鲁滨孙漂流记》；
2.儿童文学小说标杆读物，很适合做英语课外读物；
3.英文原版，内容无删减，纸质护眼。
Twelve-year-old Karana escapes death at the hands of treacherous hunters, only to find herself totally alone on a harsh desolate island. How she survives in the face of all sorts of dangers makes gripping and inspiring reading.
Based on a true story.

太平洋中有一个岛屿，形状像一条侧躺的海豚。岛的周围有海豚在游泳，有海獭在嬉戏，有海象在争雄，有野狗在决斗……以前，在这个岛上住着印第安人，他们受到捕猎海獭的阿留申人的杀害，后来离开这个岛到东方去居住。他们离开时，留下一位小姑娘——卡拉娜。她在岛上孤零零地生活了十八年，等待援救的船只到来。她独自修建住所，制造武器和捕鱼用具，与野狗斗争，历尽艰险才得以生存下来。
Far off the coast of California looms a harsh rock known as the island of San Nicholas. Blue dolphins flash in the waters around it, sea otter play in the kelp beds, and seabirds roost in its crags. Once, Indians also lived on the island—until one day they decided to leave the island and sailed to the east.
A young girl was left behind.
Karana is that girl. Year after year, she waits for the ship to come back. But it never does. Finally, she realizes must make a fateful choice: follow her people on her own or remain alone on the island for the rest of her life.

奥台尔，出生在西部开拓时代的洛杉矶，那时野兔比居民的数量多得多。童年时他的家庭几经搬迁，有时搬到小岛上，有时搬到与墨西哥交界的山里，那里曾经是西部印第安人聚居的地方。正因为如此，奥台尔的大部分小说，都与拓荒者、印第安人有关。《蓝色的海豚岛》中的描述，一部分来自奥台尔少年时代的回忆，那时他和同龄的少年们一起，时常到印第安人曾经居住的海岛周围探险，在被遗弃的古老独木舟上嬉戏。
奥台尔是一个经历十分丰富的作家，他参加过两次世界大战，还是好莱坞较早的一批电影精英中的一员。他是一名电影摄像师兼技术编导，曾参与过多部早期无声电影的制作，著名的一部是历史剧《班豪》。
奥台尔热爱的事业是写作，特别是为青少年写历史题材的小说。这是在他少年时代就立下的志向，因为有一次他的家人告诉他，伟大的英国历史小说家司各特是他们家族的前辈。他毕生创作了近30部小说，其中大部分是历史小说。1981年他还专门设立了以自己的名字命名的文学奖，每年5000美元奖金，奖励为青少年创作历史小说的后辈。
奥台尔是一位博学而且具有宽容胸怀的作家，他的小说记录了开拓者的辉煌，也对逝去的文化充满敬意，他特别同情被历史吞噬的弱小族群，怀着对大自然的热爱讴歌人与自然的和谐。
Scott O’Dellwas born in Los Angeles. He was a journalist and an authority on California histor. He won many awards for his writing, including the Newbery Award for Island of the Blue Dolphins. He died in October 1989.

I remember the day the Aleut ship came to our island. At first it seemed like a small shell afloat on the sea. Then it grew larger and was a gull with folded wings. At last in the rising sun it became what it really was—a red ship with two red sails.
My brother and I had gone to the head of a canyon that winds down to a little harbor which is called Coral Cove. We had gone to gather roots that grow there in the spring.
My brother Ramo was only a little boy half my age, which was twelve. He was small for one who had lived so many suns and moons, but quick as a cricket. Also foolish as a cricket when he was excited. For this reason and because I wanted him to help me gather roots and not go running off , I said nothing about the shell I saw or the gull with folded wings.
I went on digging in the brush with my pointed stick as though nothing at all were happening on the sea. Even when I knew for sure that the gull was a ship with two red sails.
But Ramo’s eyes missed little in the world. They were black like a lizard’s and very large and, like the eyes of a lizard, could sometimes look sleepy. This was the time when they saw the most. This was the way they looked now. They were half-closed, like those of a lizard lying on a rock about to flick out its tongue to catch a fly.
“The sea is smooth,” Ramo said. “It is a flat stone without any scratches.”
My brother liked to pretend that one thing was another.
“The sea is not a stone without scratches,” I said. “It is water and no waves.”
“To me it is a blue stone,” he said. “And far away on the edge of it is a small cloud which sits on the stone.”
“Clouds do not sit on stones. On blue ones or black ones or any kind of stones.”
“This one does.”
“Not on the sea,” I said. “Dolphins sit there, and gulls, and cormorants, and otter, and whales too, but not clouds.”
“It is a whale, maybe.”
Ramo was standing on one foot and then the other, watching the ship coming, which he did not know was a ship because he had never seen one. I had never seen one either, but I knew how they looked because I had been told.
“While you gaze at the sea,” I said, “I dig roots. And it is I who will eat them and you who will not.”
Ramo began to punch at the earth with his stick, but as the ship came closer, its sails showing red through the morning mist, he kept watching it, acting all the time as if he were not.
“Have you ever seen a red whale?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, though I never had.
“Those I have seen are gray.”