学了多年的英语，仍然没有办法阅读英文原著，不逼自己一把，永远都不会进步。从今天开启我的英文原著阅读打卡活动。不刻意追求单词和语法，只仔细品读大师作品的深层次内涵，在享受经典的同时提高自己的英语阅读能力。
开启的第一篇英文阅读计划的书目是《我的叔叔于勒》，来自法国短篇小说巨匠莫泊桑，相信不用介绍，他的大名早已如雷贯耳。他擅长从日常琐碎的生活中提取片段，配合他细致的刻画和朴实的笔触，从而讽刺和抨击了社会现象，引人深思。
《我的叔叔于勒》便是莫泊桑先生的代表作之一，通过从“我”的角度出发，在缓缓的故事讲述中，揭露人与人之间的变态关系。
《My Uncle Jules》
A white-haired old man begged us for alms. My companion, Joseph Davranche, gave him five francs. Noticing my surprised look, he said:
"That poor unfortunate reminds me of a story which I shall tell you, the memory of which continually pursues me. Here it is:
"My family, which came originally from Havre, was not rich. We just managed to make both ends meet. My father worked hard, came home late from the office, and earned very little. I had two sisters.
"My mother suffered a good deal from our reduced circumstances, and she often had harsh words for her husband, veiled and sly reproaches. The poor man then made a gesture which used to distress me.
He would pass his open hand over his forehead, as if to wipe away perspiration which did not exist, and he would answer nothing. I felt his helpless suffering. We economized on everything, and never would accept an invitation to dinner, so as not to have to return the courtesy. All our provisions were bought at bargain sales. My sisters made their own gowns, and long discussions would arise on the price of a piece of braid worth fifteen centimes a yard. Our meals usually consisted cf soup and beef, prepared with every kind of sauce.
They say it is wholesome and nourishing, but I should have preferred a change.
"I used to go through terrible scenes on account of lost buttons and torn trousers.
"Every Sunday, dressed in our best, we would take our walk along the breakwater. My father, in a frock coat, high hat and kid gloves, would offer his arm to my mother, decked out and beribboned like a ship on a holiday. My sisters, who were always ready first, would await the signal for leaving; but at the last minute some one always found a spot on my father's frock coat, and it had to be wiped away quickly with a rag moistened with benzine.
"My father, in his shirt sleeves, his silk hat on his head, would await the completion of the operation, while my mother, putting on her spectacles, and taking off her gloves in order not to spoil them, would make haste.
"Then we set out ceremoniously. My sisters marched on ahead, arm in arm. They were of marriageable age and had to be displayed. I walked on the left of my mother and my father on her right. I remember the pompous air of my poor parents in these Sunday walks, their stern expression, their stiff walk. They moved slowly, with a serious expression, their bodies straight, their legs stiff, as if something of extreme importance depended upon their appearance.
"Every Sunday, when the big steamers were returning from unknown and distant countries, my father would invariably utter the same words:
"'What a surprise it would be if Jules were on that one! Eh?'
