The butterfly lion краткое содержание
Обновлено: 05.07.2024
ILLUSTRATED BY CHRISTIAN BIRMINGHAM.A lyrical and moving tale of a young boy growing up in Africa, and his lifelong friendship with a white lion.“All my life I’ll think of you, I promise I will. I won’t ever forget you.”Bertie rescues an orphaned white lion cub from the African veld. They are inseparable until Bertie is sent to boarding school far away in England and the lion is sold to a circus. Bertie swears that one day they will see one another again, but it is the butterfly lion which ensures that their friendship will never be forgotten.
For Virginia McKenna
The Butterfly Lion grew from several magical roots: the memories of a small boy who tried to run away from school a long time ago; a book about a pride of white lions discovered by Chris McBride; a chance meeting in a lift with Virginia McKenna, actress and champion of lions and all creatures born free; a true story of a soldier of the First World War who rescued some circus animals in France from certain death; and the sighting from a train of a white horse carved out on a chalky hillside near Westbury in Wiltshire.
To Chris McBride, to Virginia McKenna and to Gina Pollinger – many, many thanks. And to you the reader – enjoy it!
Butterflies live only short lives. They flower and flutter for just a few glorious weeks, and then they die. To see them, you have to be in the right place at the right time. And that’s how it was when I saw the butterfly lion – I happened to be in just the right place, at just the right time. I didn’t dream him. I didn’t dream any of it. I saw him, blue and shimmering in the sun, one afternoon in June when I was young. A long time ago. But I don’t forget. I mustn’t forget. I promised them I wouldn’t.
I was ten, and away at boarding school in deepest Wiltshire. I was far from home and I didn’t want to be. It was a diet of Latin and stew and rugby and detentions and cross-country runs and chilblains and marks and squeaky beds and semolina pudding. And then there was Basher Beaumont who terrorised and tormented me, so that I lived every waking moment of my life in dread of him. I had often thought of running away, but only once ever plucked up the courage to do it.
I was homesick after a letter from my mother. Basher Beaumont had cornered me in the bootroom and smeared black shoe-polish in my hair. I had done badly in a spelling test, and Mr Carter had stood me in the corner with a book on my head all through the lesson – his favourite torture. I was more miserable than I had ever been before. I picked at the plaster in the wall, and determined there and then that I would run away.
I took off the next Sunday afternoon. With any luck I wouldn’t be missed till supper, and by that time I’d be home, home and free. I climbed the fence at the bottom of the school park, behind the trees where I couldn’t be seen. Then I ran for it. I ran as if bloodhounds were after me, not stopping till I was through Innocents Breach and out onto the road beyond. I had my escape all planned. I would walk to the station – it was only five miles or so – and catch the train to London. Then I’d take the underground home. I’d just walk in and tell them that I was never, ever going back.
There wasn’t much traffic, but all the same I turned up the collar of my raincoat so that no one could catch a glimpse of my uniform. It was beginning to rain now, those heavy hard drops that mean there’s more of the same on the way. I crossed the road, and ran along the wide grass verge under the shelter of the trees.
Beyond the grass verge was a high brick wall, much of it covered in ivy. It stretched away into the distance, continuous as far as the eye could see, except for a massive arched gateway at the bend of the road. A great stone lion bestrode the gateway. As I came closer I could see he was roaring in the rain, his lip curled, his teeth bared. I stopped and stared up at him for a moment. That was when I heard a car slowing down behind me. I did not think twice. I pushed open the iron gate, darted through, and flattened myself behind the stone pillar. I watched the car until it disappeared round the bend.
To be caught would mean a caning, four strokes, maybe six, across the back of the knees. Worse, I would be back at school, back to detentions, back to Basher Beaumont. To go along the road was dangerous, too dangerous. I would try to cut across country to the station. It would be longer that way, but far safer.
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- Жанр: Детская проза, Книги для детей, Природа и животные
- Язык: Книги на английском языке
- Объём: 90 стр. 60 иллюстраций
- ISBN: 9780007380626
- Дата выхода книги: 30 июня 2019
- Версия: 📚 Электронная книга
- Правообладатель: HarperCollins
ILLUSTRATED BY CHRISTIAN BIRMINGHAM.A lyrical and moving tale of a young boy growing up in Africa, and his lifelong friendship with a white lion.“All my life I’ll think of you, I promise I will. I won’t ever forget you.”Bertie rescues an orphaned white lion cub from the African veld. They are inseparable until Bertie is sent to boarding school far away in England and the lion is sold to a circus. Bertie swears that one day they will see one another again, but it is the butterfly lion which ensures that their friendship will never be forgotten.
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Повесть начинается с рассказа о мальчике Майкле, убежавшем из школы-интерната, где он вынужден был терпеть жестокие наказания учителей, издевательства хулигана-одноклассника, а также отвратительную ежедневную манную кашу (semolina pudding). Кроме того, его мучила болезнь пальцев ног — chilblains, вызванная постоянным переохлаждением. Ступни опухали, а пальцы нестерпимо зудели. На своем пути к железнодорожной станции Майкл случайно попадает в дом незнакомой старушки, а та привечает его и рассказывает ему необыкновенную историю о мальчике Бёрти, детство которого прошло в Южной Африке, где он спас и приручил белого львенка. Бёрти и львенок подружились.
Друзья вынуждены были расстаться, но мальчик поклялся, что они еще встретятся. Дальнейшие приключения и злоключения Бёрти и его друга льва до Первой мировой войны, во время ее и после Перемирия и составляют главное содержание повести. Есть там и трогательная любовная история. Повествование закольцовывается, но как именно — лучше узнать, прочитав книгу. Она небольшая, и опытным читателям прочесть ее можно даже за один присест.
На наше учительское счастье, русского перевода книги еще нет, и можно насладиться оригиналом в полной мере. В нашей школе мы читаем ее обычно с восьмиклассниками, но и семиклассники, и даже грамотные шестиклассники ее вполне могут осилить.
Мать после потери любимого брата во Второй мировой войне не оправилась до конца своих дней и страдала алкоголизмом. Семи лет Майкла отдали в школу-интернат, где он мучился, как и его герой Бёрти. Детей избивали так жестоко, что Майкл начал заикаться. Через шесть лет ему удалось перейти в другую школу, не такую страшную.
По настоянию отчима Майкл поступил в военную академию, но очень быстро понял, что это не для него, и продолжил обучение в лондонском Королевском колледже. Там он изучал английскую и французскую литературу и философию, а по окончании учительствовал в школе в Кембридже. Морпурго вынужден был жениться в девятнадцать лет, так как Клер, его девушка, забеременела. Они женаты до сих пор, и их трое детей названы именами шекспировских героев: Себастьян, Горацио и Розалинда.
За свою долгую жизнь Морпурго написал более трехсот произведений в более чем тысячи публикаций на двадцати пяти языках. С 2003 до 2005 года он носил титул Детского Лауреата (Children's Laureate). Первым лауреатом был поэт Тед Хьюз, вторым — Морпурго, а сейчас это Крессида Каул. Лауреат номинируется непосредственно детьми, которые голосуют в интернете. Лауреатом может быть писатель или иллюстратор детских книг, а также библиотекарь или даже продавец в книжном магазине. Это звание присуждается на два года.
Майкл Морпурго награжден Орденом Британской империи (OBE), он почетный член Королевского общества литературы (Royal Society of Literature /RSL/), а также обладатель нескольких литературных премий.
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- Объем: 90 стр. 60 иллюстраций
- Жанр:д етская проза, к ниги для детей, п рирода и животныеРедактировать
For Virginia McKenna
Contents
Chilblains and Semolina Pudding
Bertie and the Lion
A Lot of Old Codswallop
The White Prince
A Miracle, A Miracle!
The Butterfly Lion
And the Lion Shall Lie Down with the Lamb
About the Author
Also by Michael Morpurgo
About the Publisher
Preface
The Butterfly Lion grew from several magical roots: the memories of a small boy who tried to run away from school a long time ago; a book about a pride of white lions discovered by Chris McBride; a chance meeting in a lift with Virginia McKenna, actress and champion of lions and all creatures born free; a true story of a soldier of the First World War who rescued some circus animals in France from certain death; and the sighting from a train of a white horse carved out on a chalky hillside near Westbury in Wiltshire.
To Chris McBride, to Virginia McKenna and to Gina Pollinger – many, many thanks. And to you the reader – enjoy it!
February 1996
Chilblains and Semolina Pudding
Butterflies live only short lives. They flower and flutter for just a few glorious weeks, and then they die. To see them, you have to be in the right place at the right time. And that’s how it was when I saw the butterfly lion – I happened to be in just the right place, at just the right time. I didn’t dream him. I didn’t dream any of it. I saw him, blue and shimmering in the sun, one afternoon in June when I was young. A long time ago. But I don’t forget. I mustn’t forget. I promised them I wouldn’t.
I was ten, and away at boarding school in deepest Wiltshire. I was far from home and I didn’t want to be. It was a diet of Latin and stew and rugby and detentions and cross-country runs and chilblains and marks and squeaky beds and semolina pudding. And then there was Basher Beaumont who terrorised and tormented me, so that I lived every waking moment of my life in dread of him. I had often thought of running away, but only once ever plucked up the courage to do it.
I was homesick after a letter from my mother. Basher Beaumont had cornered me in the bootroom and smeared black shoe-polish in my hair. I had done badly in a spelling test, and Mr Carter had stood me in the corner with a book on my head all through the lesson – his favourite torture. I was more miserable than I had ever been before. I picked at the plaster in the wall, and determined there and then that I would run away.
I took off the next Sunday afternoon. With any luck I wouldn’t be missed till supper, and by that time I’d be home, home and free. I climbed the fence at the bottom of the school park, behind the trees where I couldn’t be seen. Then I ran for it. I ran as if bloodhounds were after me, not stopping till I was through Innocents Breach and out onto the road beyond. I had my escape all planned. I would walk to the station – it was only five miles or so – and catch the train to London. Then I’d take the underground home. I’d just walk in and tell them that I was never, ever going back.
There wasn’t much traffic, but all the same I turned up the collar of my raincoat so that no one could catch a glimpse of my uniform. It was beginning to rain now, those heavy hard drops that mean there’s more of the same on the way. I crossed the road, and ran along the wide grass verge under the shelter of the trees.
Beyond the grass verge was a high brick wall, much of it covered in ivy. It stretched away into the distance, continuous as far as the eye could see, except for a massive arched gateway at the bend of the road. A great stone lion bestrode the gateway. As I came closer I could see he was roaring in the rain, his lip curled, his teeth bared. I stopped and stared up at him for a moment. That was when I heard a car slowing down behind me. I did not think twice. I pushed open the iron gate, darted through, and flattened myself behind the stone pillar. I watched the car until it disappeared round the bend.
To be caught would mean a caning, four strokes, maybe six, across the back of the knees. Worse, I would be back at school, back to detentions, back to Basher Beaumont. To go along the road was dangerous, too dangerous. I would try to cut across country to the station. It would be longer that way, but far safer.
ILLUSTRATED BY CHRISTIAN BIRMINGHAM.A lyrical and moving tale of a young boy growing up in Africa, and his lifelong friendship with a white lion.“All my life I’ll think of you, I promise I will. I won’t ever forget you.”Bertie rescues an orphaned white lion cub from the African veld. They are inseparable until Bertie is sent to boarding school far away in England and the lion is sold to a circus. Bertie swears that one day they will see one another again, but it is the butterfly lion which ensures that their friendship will never be forgotten.
Книга очень понравилась! Развивается вроде бы неспешно, но постепенно вовлекает в мир переживаний героя и захватывает нарастающей интригой к концу. Тема работы в мире высоких технологий мало освещается в современной литературе и поэтому узнаешь этот мир от первого лица. Много юмора и самоиронии, короче читайте и получите удовольствие!
Великолепнейшая книга. Огромное количество информации про правильное выстраивание отношений с девушками. Подойдёт любому мужчине: как подросткового возраста, так и взрослым мужикам. Читается она легко и просто - язык простой и понятный. Много глубоких мыслей. Рекомендую каждому, кто хочет улучшить свои навыки общения с прекрасным полом!
Честно говоря не ожидал, что мне так понравится данная книга. Читал не отрываясь, очень понравился легкий стиль автора, все просто, понятно, систематизировано. Полученые знания ещё не успел применить на практике, но проанализировав свой прошлый опыт отношений понял где совершил ошибки. Книгу однозначно рекомендую всем представителям мужского пола.
Увлекательная книга о духовном поиске главного героя с захватывающими приключениями и глубокими мыслями о жизни и мироздании
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