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The Accidental Tourist [Format Kindle]

Anne Tyler
4.0 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (1 commentaire client)

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Descriptions du produit

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"Penguin Readers" is a series of simplified novels, film novelizations and original titles that introduce students at all levels to the pleasures of reading in English. Originally designed for teaching English as a foreign language, the series' combination of high interest level and low reading age makes it suitable for both English-speaking teenagers with limited reading skills and students of English as a second language. Many titles in the series also provide access to the pre-20th century literature strands of the National Curriculum English Orders. "Penguin Readers" are graded at seven levels of difficulty, from "Easystarts" with a 200-word vocabulary, to Level 6 (Advanced) with a 3000-word vocabulary. In addition, titles fall into one of three sub-categories: "Contemporary", "Classics" or "Originals". At the end of each book there is a section of enjoyable exercises focusing on vocabulary building, comprehension, discussion and writing. Some titles in the series are available with an accompanying audio cassette, or in a book and cassette pack. Additionally, selected titles have free accompanying "Penguin Readers Factsheets" which provide stimulating exercise material for students, as well as suggestions for teachers on how to exploit the Readers in class.

Extrait

They were supposed to stay at the beach a week, but neither of them had the heart for it and they decided to come back early. Macon drove. Sarah sat next to him, leaning her head against the side window. Chips of cloudy sky showed through her tangled brown curls.

Macon wore a formal summer suit, his traveling suit—much more logical for traveling than jeans, he always said. Jeans had those stiff, hard seams and those rivets. Sarah wore a strapless terry beach dress. They might have been returning from two entirely different trips. Sarah had a tan but Macon didn’t. He was a tall, pale, gray-eyed man, with straight fair hair cut close to his head, and his skin was that thin kind that easily burns. He’d kept away from the sun during the middle part of every day.

Just past the start of the divided highway, the sky grew almost black and several enormous drops spattered the windshield. Sarah sat up straight. “Let’s hope it doesn’t rain,” she said.

“I don’t mind a little rain,” Macon said.

Sarah sat back again, but she kept her eyes on the road.

It was a Thursday morning. There wasn’t much traffic. They passed a pickup truck, then a van all covered with stickers from a hundred scenic attractions. The drops on the windshield grew closer together. Macon switched his wipers on. Tick-swoosh, they went—a lulling sound; and there was a gentle patter on the roof. Every now and then a gust of wind blew up. Rain flattened the long, pale grass at the sides of the road. It slanted across the boat lots, lumberyards, and discount furniture outlets, which already had a darkened look as if here it might have been raining for some time.

“Can you see all right?” Sarah asked.

“Of course,” Macon said. “This is nothing.”

They arrived behind a trailer truck whose rear wheels sent out arcs of spray. Macon swung to the left and passed. There was a moment of watery blindness till the truck had dropped behind. Sarah gripped the dashboard with one hand.

“I don’t know how you can see to drive,” she said.

“Maybe you should put on your glasses.”

“Putting on my glasses would help you to see?”

“Not me; you,” Macon said. “You’re focused on the windshield instead of the road.”

Sarah continued to grip the dashboard. She had a broad, smooth face that gave an impression of calm, but if you looked closely you’d notice the tension at the corners of her eyes.

The car drew in around them like a room. Their breaths fogged the windows. Earlier the air conditioner had been running and now some artificial chill remained, quickly turning dank, carrying with it the smell of mildew. They shot through an underpass. The rain stopped completely for one blank, startling second. Sarah gave a little gasp of relief, but even before it was uttered, the hammering on the roof resumed. She turned and gazed back longingly at the underpass. Macon sped ahead, with his hands relaxed on the wheel.

“Did you notice that boy with the motorcycle?” Sarah asked. She had to raise her voice; a steady, insistent roaring sound engulfed them.

“What boy?”

“He was parked beneath the underpass.”

“It’s crazy to ride a motorcycle on a day like today,” Macon said. “Crazy to ride one any day. You’re so exposed to the elements.”

“We could do that,” Sarah said. “Stop and wait it out.”

“Sarah, if I felt we were in the slightest danger I’d have pulled over long ago.”

“Well, I don’t know that you would have,” Sarah said.

They passed a field where the rain seemed to fall in sheets, layers and layers of rain beating down the cornstalks, flooding the rutted soil. Great lashings of water flung themselves at the windshield. Macon switched his wiper blades to high.

“I don’t know that you really care that much,” Sarah said. “Do you?”

Macon said, “Care?”

“I said to you the other day, I said, ‘Macon, now that Ethan’s dead I sometimes wonder if there’s any point to life.’ Do you remember what you answered?”

“Well, not offhand,” Macon said.

“You said, ‘Honey, to tell the truth, it never seemed to me there was all that much point to begin with.’ Those were your exact words.”

“Um . . .”

“And you don’t even know what was wrong with that.”

“No, I guess I don’t,” Macon said.

He passed a line of cars that had parked at the side of the road, their windows opaque, their gleaming surfaces bouncing back the rain in shallow explosions. One car was slightly tipped, as if about to fall into the muddy torrent that churned and raced in the gully. Macon kept a steady speed.

“You’re not a comfort, Macon,” Sarah said.

“Honey, I’m trying to be.”

“You just go on your same old way like before. Your little routines and rituals, depressing habits, day after day. No comfort at all.”

“Shouldn’t I need comfort too?” Macon asked. “You’re not the only one, Sarah. I don’t know why you feel it’s your loss alone.”

“Well, I just do, sometimes,” Sarah said.

They were quiet a moment. A wide lake, it seemed, in the center of the highway crashed against the underside of the car and slammed it to the right. Macon pumped his brakes and drove on.

“This rain, for instance,” Sarah said. “You know it makes me nervous. What harm would it do to wait it out? You’d be showing some concern. You’d be telling me we’re in this together.”

Macon peered through the windshield, which was streaming so that it seemed marbled. He said, “I’ve got a system, Sarah. You know I drive according to a system.”

“You and your systems!”

“Also,” he said, “if you don’t see any point to life, I can’t figure why a rainstorm would make you nervous.”

Sarah slumped in her seat.

“Will you look at that!” he said. “A mobile home’s washed clear across that trailer park.”

“Macon, I want a divorce,” Sarah told him.

Macon braked and glanced over at her. “What?” he said. The car swerved. He had to face forward again. “What did I say?” he asked. “What did it mean?”

“I just can’t live with you anymore,” Sarah said.

Macon went on watching the road, but his nose seemed sharper and whiter, as if the skin of his face had been pulled tight. He cleared his throat. He said, “Honey. Listen. It’s been a hard year. We’ve had a hard time. People who lose a child often feel this way; everybody says so; everybody says it’s a terrible strain on a marriage—”

“I’d like to find a place of my own as soon as we get back,” Sarah told him.

“Place of your own,” Macon echoed, but he spoke so softly, and the rain beat so loudly on the roof, it looked as if he were only moving his lips. “Well,” he said. “All right. If that’s what you really want.”

“You can keep the house,” Sarah said. “You never did like moving.”

For some reason, it was this that made her finally break down. She turned away sharply. Macon switched his right blinker on. He pulled into a Texaco station, parked beneath the overhang, and cut off the engine. Then he started rubbing his knees with his palms. Sarah huddled in her corner. The only sound was the drumming of rain on the overhang far above them.

Détails sur le produit

  • Format : Format Kindle
  • Taille du fichier : 1836 KB
  • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 370 pages
  • Editeur : Vintage Digital; Édition : New Ed (10 avril 2012)
  • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ASIN: B007V079Y2
  • Synthèse vocale : Non activée
  • X-Ray :
  • Word Wise: Non activé
  • Moyenne des commentaires client : 4.0 étoiles sur 5  Voir tous les commentaires (1 commentaire client)
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°50.793 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)
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4 internautes sur 4 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
4.0 étoiles sur 5 Une belle leçon de vie 4 septembre 2005
Par Un client
Format:Broché
Le roman est un peu long à démarrer mais je n'ai pas du tout regretté d'avoir été au bout de ma lecture car on est pris dans le livre et l'on ne veut plus quitter cet ambiance de Baltimore. Ce livre est une belle leçon de vie : comment un personnage ancré dans la monotonie et l'automatisme de son quotidien malgré la mort subite de son fils de 12 ans, prend conscience petit à petit qu'il passe à côté de sa propre vie quand sa femme le quitte. Il m'a donné envie de lire d'autres romans d'Anne Tyler.
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Commentaires client les plus utiles sur Amazon.com (beta)
Amazon.com: 4.1 étoiles sur 5  160 commentaires
76 internautes sur 76 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
4.0 étoiles sur 5 "He could not think of a single major act he'd managed of his own accord." 24 janvier 2006
Par Mary Whipple - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Broché
Winner of the National Book Critics Circle Award in 1985, this thoughtful character novel focuses on Macon Leary, a travel writer who hates to travel, a man who has gone through life observing what is happening, but who has never been truly engaged. Compulsively tidy, Macon has always believed that it is possible to order one's life so effectively that the untidiness, or chaos, that throws life into confusion can be avoided. And then his beloved 12-year-old son is cold-bloodedly murdered in the senseless robbery of a burger joint while he is away at camp for the first time.

It gives away nothing of the plot to say that this event totally undoes Macon and his wife, and their polite and predictable marriage goes into a tailspin. When the novel opens, Macon and Sarah have decided to separate, with Sarah getting her own apartment (where she can be as messy as she wants) and Macon remaining in the house with his son Ethan's undisciplined dog Edward. In fact, Macon has moved back with his sister and brothers in the family house, to recuperate from his physical wounds--an accident in which he breaks his leg-- and from his emotional wounds.

Then into his life comes Muriel, a divorcee with an over-protected, allergic, and hypersensitive son. She is a dog trainer, a flake, the only person willing to undertake the task of civilizing the aggressive, sometimes vicious "pet" that lives with Macon. As Macon tries to deal with his life, his loss of Sarah (who is dating), his son's dog (which attacks anything that moves), and his commitment to producing yet another travel book, his life becomes more complicated, and the depth of his relationship with Sarah, relative to the shared loss they have faced, becomes an issue which must be revisited if he is ever to engage with life and explore the possibilities of a new life which Muriel offers.

Filled with wonderful descriptions of life, both within Macon's family and in Europe, where he travels for research, the novel provides the reader with a full, realistic picture of marriage between people whose relationship has been, in part, the result of their commitment to their son. Poignant and emotional, but avoiding melodrama, the novel explores the meaning of life and love, the extent to which a marriage may limit or stimulate the growth of the people involved, and the ways in which a marriage must adapt to the new needs of the participants if it is to endure through time. n Mary Whipple
33 internautes sur 33 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 A beautiful book. 20 décembre 1999
Par Nirit - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Poche
I love this book! I've read it dozens of times. At first glance, it's fetching and readable, but look beyond the surface - some passages are near masterpieces. Look for Macon fixing the sink with Alexander, and Macon shopping for clothes with Alexander. This book also gives a believable and touching description of a person changing. Just follow Macon's thoughts and see how they change with time. I think this is Tyler's best (and I've read them all).
30 internautes sur 34 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 This book may have saved my life. 5 juillet 1999
Par Un client - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Poche
It opened my eyes to interpersonal mess-ups in a new way and helped me understand the crucial difference between romance and love. It's also one of the few books I've ever read from cover to cover, without even skipping sentences. (Usually I skip whole chapters if nothing seems to be happening.) The funny thing is, it's not exactly action-packed, it just gives you a good look "under the hood" of this world. To me, the rave reviews are deserved and I want to add my own five stars. To the author: thank you for surviving whatever you had to go through to understand human nature so well!
15 internautes sur 16 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 A Tyler Gem 17 juillet 2002
Par BeachReader - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
I had seen the movie "The Accidental Tourist" so many times that I never realized that I had not read the book! What a treat to find a Tyler book that I had not read.
As usual, Tyler pulls us into the world of her characters and makes us part of their lives. How she does this, time after time, astounds me. The characters who populate her books are eccentric but nevertheless are endearing--and are always original.
Here we have Macon Leary (which could have been spelled leery) a travel writer who really hates to leave home. He writes books for people who are just like him, who really just want all the comforts of their familiar home no matter where they are. They have no interest in exploring or seeing the sights of a new place.
Macon is a man who is uncomfortable with his life, his surroundings, his work, his associates, and even his dog, Edward. Social interaction is not his forte, nor his family's, most of whom are as socially inept as he is. He dislikes any kind of change, is compulsive, and is stodgily set in his ways. The systems he devises to make life easier are hilarious, such as agitating his clothes underfoot while he takes a shower!
But his usually sedate life takes many twists and turns in the course of this novel, during the year or two after his son's brutal murder. He is forced to examine his marriage and his relationship with the eccentric Muriel, the likes of whom he has never encountered--she is impulsive, messy, pushy, and talks his ear off.
Muriel presents Macon with a very different way of living and he needs to decide if he can handle this. Tyler presents his struggle in the most charming way and makes these characters so real to the reader.
Another Tyler gem!
10 internautes sur 10 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 You may see some of yourself in this book. 30 mai 1998
Par Un client - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Poche
Macon Leary writes city guides for business travelers who hate to travel. His books feature the "American" restaurants in cities like Paris. And Macon is sure to check the flush of the toilets in hotel rooms. "Bring a novel to read on the plane," he advises his readers, "to protect yourself against chatty strangers".
His own life is organized by all the little systems he devises to minimize the drudgery of everyday existence. It gets worse when his marriage disintegrates after the senseless death of Ethan, his twelve year old son who was executed during a holdup at a fast food joint. Macon showers while agitating his dirty laundry underfoot, he sleeps between two sheets which have been sewn together so he never has to make the bed, and he feeds Edward, Ethan's dog, in the basement of his Baltimore-area home by dumping kibble down the coal chute.
Macon meets Muriel, an awkward, pushy, self-reliant young woman, when Edward is turned away from the kennel because he's taken to biting. Macon leaves the dog at Muriel's clinic and, upon his return, she announces that Edward likes her and that she can train him to not bite. Muriel uses her role as Edward's tutor to worm her way into Macon's boring, reclusive life and, as he soon finds out, she has a few scars of her own that need healing. Muriel turns out to be the best thing that has happened to Macon, and vice versa, but you want to kick Macon for not seeing it right away, when his estranged wife tries to get back into his life.
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