Unit 2B - How Books Helped Shaped My Life
How Books Helped Shaped My Life
Judith Viorst
In books I've read since I was young I've searched for heroines who could serve as ideals, as models, as possibilities—some reflecting the secret self that dwelled inside me, others pointing to whole new ways that a woman (if only she dared!) might try to be. The person that I am today was shaped by Nancy Drew; by Jo March, Jane Eyre and Heathcliff's soul mate Cathy; and by other fictional females whose attractiveness or character or audacity for a time were the standards by which I measured myself.
I return to some of these books to see if I still understand the powerful hold that these heroines once had on me. I still understand.
Consider teen-aged Nancy Drew—beautiful, blond-haired, blue-eyed girl detective—who had the most terrific life that I as a ten-year-old could ever imagine. Motherless (in other words, quite free of maternal controls), she lived with her handsome indulgent lawyer father in a large brick house set back from the street with a winding tree-lined driveway on the outside and a faithful, nonintrusive housekeeper Hannah cooking yummy meals on the inside. She also had a boy friend, a convertible, nice clothes and two close girl friends—not as perfect as she, but then it seemed to me that no one could possibly be as perfect as Nancy Drew, who in dozens and dozens of books (The Hidden Staircase, The Whispering Statue, The Clue in the Diary, The Clue of the Tapping Heels) was resourceful and brave and intelligent as she went around solving mysteries left and right, while remaining kind to the elderly and invariably polite and absolutely completely delightfully feminine.
I mean, what else was there?
I soon found out what else when I encountered the four March sisters of Little Women, a sentimental, old-fashioned book about girls growing up in Civil War time in New England. About spoiled, vain, pretty Amy. And sickly, saintly Beth. And womanly, decent Meg. And about—most important of all—gawky, bookworm Jo. Dear Jo, who wasn't as flawless as the golden Nancy Drew but who showed me that girls like her—like us—could be heroines. Even if we weren't much to look at. Even if we were clumsy and socially gauche. And even if the transition into young womanhood often appeared to our dubious eye to be difficult and scary and even unwelcome.
Jo got stains on her dress and laughed when she shouldn't and lost her temper and didn't display tact or patience or restraint. Jo brought a touch of irreverence to the cultural constraints of the world she lived in. And yet her instincts were good and her heart was pure and her headstrong ways led always to virtue. And furthermore Jo—as I yearned to be—was a writer!
In the book the years go by, Beth dies, Meg and Amy marry and Jo—her fierce heart somewhat tamed—is alone. "An old maid, that's what I'm to be.
A literary spinster, with a pen for a spouse, a family of stories for children, and twenty years hence a morsel of fame, perhaps!"...Jo sighed, as if the prospect was not inviting.
This worried young reader concurred—not inviting at all!
And so I was happy to read of Jo's nice suitor. Mr. Bhaer, not handsome or rich or young or important or witty, but possessed of kindness and dignity and enough intelligence to understand that even a girl who wasn't especially pretty, who had no dazzling charms and who wanted to write might make a wonderful wife. And a wonderful mother. And live happily ever after.
What a relief?
What Jo and Nancy shared was active participation in life—they went out and did; they weren't simply done to—and they taught and promised me (at a time when mommies stayed home and there was no Women's Movement) that a girl could go out and do and still get a man. Jo added the notion that brusque, ungainly kids could go out and do and still get a man. And Jane of Jane Eyre, whose author once said, "I will show you a heroine as small and as plain as myself," added the further idea that such women were able to "feel just as men feel" and were capable of being just as passionate.
Orphaned Jane, a governess at stately Thornfield Hall, was a no-nonsense lady, cool and self-contained, whose lonely, painful childhood had ingrained in her an impressive firmness of character, an unwillingness to charm or curry favor and a sense of herself as the equal of any man.
Said Jane to Mr. Rochester, the brooding, haughty, haunted master of Thornfield: "Do you think I am an automaton?—a machine without feelings? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!—I have as much soul as you, and full as much heart!"
I loved it that such hot fires burned inside so plain a Jane. I loved her for her unabashed intensity. And I loved her for being so pure that when she learned of Mr. Rochester's lunatic wife, she sacrificed romance for honor and left him immediately.
For I think it's important to note that Nancy and Jo and Jane, despite their independence, were basically as good as girls can be: honest, generous, kind, sincere, reliable, respectable, possessed of absolute integrity. They didn't defy convention. They didn't challenge the rules. They did what was right, although it might cause them pain. And their virtue was always rewarded—look at Jane, rich and married at last to her Mr. Rochester. Oh, how I identified with Jane!
But then I read Wuthering Heights, a novel of soul-consuming love on the Yorkshire moors, and Catherine Earnshaw totally captured me. And she captured me, not in spite of her dangerous, dark and violent spirit, but because of it.
Cathy was as wild as the moors. She lied and connived and deceived. She was insolent, selfish, manipulative and cruel.
And by marrying meek, weak Edgar instead of Heathcliff, her destiny, she betrayed a love she described in throbbing, forgettable prose as... elemental: "My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath—a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff—he's always, always in my mind—not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself—but as my own being..."
Now who, at the age of 16, could resist such quivering intensity? Who would settle for less than elemental? Must we untamed creatures of passion—I'd muse as I lay awake in my red flannel nightdress—submit ourselves to conventional morality? Or could I actually choose not to be a good girl?
Cathy Eamshaw told me that I could. And so did lost Lady Brett of The Sun Also Rises. Brett Ashley was to me, at 18, free, modern, woman incarnate, and she dangled alluring new concepts before my eyes: The value of style: "She wore a slipover jersey sweater and a tweed skirt, and her hair was brushed back like a boy's. She started all that." The excitement of nonconformity "I've always done just what I wanted." The importance of (understated) grace under pressure: "Brett's was rather good. She's always rather good." And the thrill of unrepressed sexuality: "Brett's had affairs with men before. She tells me all about everything."
Brett married lovelessly and drank too much and drifted too much and had an irresponsible fling with a bullfighter. But she also had class—and her own morality. She set her bullfighter free—"I'd have lived with him if I hadn't seen it was bad for him." And even though she was broke, she lied and "told him I had scads of it... I couldn't take his money, you know."
Brett's wasn't the kind of morality that my mother was teaching me in suburban New Jersey. But maybe I wasn't meant for suburban life. Maybe I'm meant for something more... emancipated.
I carried Brett's image with me when, after college, I lived for a while in Greenwich Village, in New York. But I couldn't achieve her desperate gallantry. And it struck me that Brett was too lonely and sad, and that Cathy had died too young, and that maybe I ought to forget about unconventionality if the price was going to be so painfully high. Although I enjoyed my Village fling, I had no wish to live anguishedly ever after. I needed a heroine who, like me, wanted just a small taste of the wild before settling down into happy domesticity.
I found her in War and Peace. Her name was Natasha.
Natasha, the leading lady of this epic of Russian society during Napoleon's time, was "poetic... charming... overflowing with life," an enchanting girl whose sweet eagerness and passionate impulsivity were tempered by historic and private tragedies.
Married to the handsome and excellent Prince Andrew, she fell in love with a heel named Anatole, and when she was warned that this foolish and dangerous passion would lead to her ruin, "I'll go to my ruin...," she said, "as soon as possible."
It ended badly with Anatole. Natasha tried suicide. Prince Andrew died. Natasha turned pale, thin, subdued. But unlike Brett and Cathy, her breach with convention was mended and, at long last, she married Pierre—a decent, substantial, loving man, the kind of man all our mothers want us to marry.
In marriage Natasha grew stouter and "the old fire very rarely kindled in her face now." She became an exemplary mother, an ideal wife. "She felt that her unity with her husband was maintained not by the poetic feelings that had attracted him to her but by something else—indefinite but firm as the bond between her own body and soul."
It sounded—if not elemental and doomed—awfully nice.
I identified with Natasha when, the following year, I married and left Greenwich Village. I too was ready for domesticity. And yet... her husband and children became "the subject which wholly engrossed Natasha's attention." She had lost herself—and I didn't want to lose me. What I needed next was a heroine who could reconcile all the warring wants of my nature—for fire and quiet, independence and oneness, ambition and love, and marriage and family.
But such reconciling heroines, in novels and real life, may not yet exist.
Nevertheless Natasha and Jane and Jo, Cathy, Nancy and Brett—each spoke to my heart and stirred me powerfully. On my journey to young womanhood I was fortunate to have them as companions. They were, they will always remain, a part of me.
参考译文——书籍是如何帮我塑造人生的
书籍是如何帮我塑造人生的
朱迪思·维奥斯特
从小我就在读过的书里寻找能代表理想、能作为榜样和有朝一日我可能成为的女主人公——她们有些是我内心深藏的隐秘自我的反映，另一些则为我指出崭新的方向，告诉我一个女人通过努力（只要她敢！）可能成为什么样的人。今天的我就是由南希·德鲁、乔·马奇、简·爱、希斯克利夫的灵魂伴侣凯茜，以及其他一些虚构的女性人物塑造而成的，她们的魅力、人格、勇气都曾是我审视自己的标准。
我重读这其中的一些书，想看看自己是否仍然理解这些女主人公当年对我的巨大影响。我发现我仍然理解。
想想少年神探南希·德鲁——一位金发飘逸、眼睛碧蓝的漂亮女侦探——在一个十岁孩子的想象中，她的生活美妙无比。她没有母亲（换句话说，她非常自由，不需要受母亲的控制），与父亲生活在一起。她父亲是一位大律师，英俊潇洒、任性放纵。他们住在街边一所靠后的砖结构的大房子里，外边有一条树木成行的弯弯曲曲的车道。管家汉娜忠厚老实、温和可亲，烹饪的食物美味可口。她有一个男朋友、一辆敞篷轿车、漂亮衣服和两个女闺蜜——她们没有她那么完美。在我看来，没有人可能和南希一样完美。在很多书（像《隐藏的楼梯》《低语的雕像》《日记中的线索》《高跟鞋的线索》）中，她到处去解决谜团，表现得足智多谋、勇敢无畏、聪明智慧，而且她还能善待老人、处处谦逊礼貌，绝对是一位极其完美、令人着迷的女性。
我的意思是，在那时还有其他女性可以与之相媲美吗？
很快地，我发现了其他的女性。我在《小妇人》中遇到了马奇家的四姐妹。这是一本令人伤感的旧书，讲述了几个女孩在新英格兰内战期间的成长过程。漂亮的埃米受人宠爱、爱慕虚荣；贝丝疾病缠身、圣洁可人；梅格体面正派、女人味十足；最重要的主人公乔，笨拙迟钝、酷爱读书。可爱的乔虽然没有金发飘逸的南希那么完美，但她却告诉我，像她那样的女孩——像我们这样的普通女孩——是可以成为主角的，即使我们长得不好看，即使我们笨拙、迟钝、不善于社交，即使在我们疑惑的眼神中，成长为女人的过程也困难重重、令人害怕、惹人厌烦。
乔的衣服上污渍斑斑，在不应该发笑时放声大笑，她脾气暴躁，缺乏机智、耐心和约束力。她鄙视她所生活的那个世界中的文化限制。然而，她本性善良、心地纯洁，她任性的行为方式总是能达到美好的效果。而且乔——正如我所渴望的一样——是一个作家！
随着时间的流逝，贝丝死了，梅格和埃米也结婚了，虽然乔狂躁的内心有点被驯服了，但她仍然是独自一人。“我就是要成为一个老处女。
一个文学处女，以笔为配偶，以诸多故事为孩子，二十年后会有一点点名声，也许！”乔叹气地说，似乎前景并不诱人。
对于这一点我这个焦虑的小读者也非常赞同——那根本就不诱人！
因此当读到乔的追求者巴尔先生时，我很开心。他既不英俊也不富有，既不年轻也不聪明，更无权无势，但是他却和蔼可亲、高尚尊贵。他非常理解，即使一个女孩不特别漂亮，也不是很迷人，同时还想成为一名作家，她也可能会成为一个伟大的妻子，成为一个慈爱的母亲，从而过上幸福美满的生活。
这可真让我松了一口气！
积极参与生活是乔和南希的共性——她们走出去亲身实践，而不是被动承受着一切——她们给我启发，并告诉我（在那个妈妈们待在家里，也没有妇女运动的年代），一个女孩可以出去工作，可以去追求男人。乔强化了直率、笨拙的孩子们可以出去工作、可以去追求男人的观念。《简·爱》的作者曾说我向你展示的女主人公和我一样卑微而平凡”，简进一步强化这个想法，这样的女人也能“与男人一样去感受”，也能够像他们一样拥有激情。
孤儿简是富丽堂皇的桑菲尔德府的一个家庭女教师，她严肃认真、沉默寡言。孤独、痛苦的童年时代令她养成了一种坚毅的性格，她不愿去巴结讨好别人、视自己与其他任何男人一样平等。
罗切斯特先生是桑菲尔德府的主人，他沉默寡言、傲慢自大、忧心忡忡。简对他说你以为我是一个机器人吗？——是一个没有感情的机器吗？你以为，我会因为贫穷、卑微、样貌平平、身材矮小，就没有灵魂，没有真心吗？你想错了！我跟你一样有灵魂，也和你一样有真心！”
我喜欢相貌平平的简心中燃烧的这种熊熊火焰。我爱她，因为她毫无畏惧；我爱她，因为她获悉罗切斯特先生疯妻的情况时那样单纯。为了气节她不惜牺牲爱情，毅然地离开了他。
我认为有一点非常值得注意：尽管她们各自具有独立性，南希、乔和简却和平常的女孩一样优秀，她们诚实、慷慨、善良、真诚、可靠、受人尊重，并且拥有绝对率真的个性。她们并不公然反抗传统。她们也不挑战规则。她们的所作所为都是对的，尽管这可能使她们感到痛苦。她们的美德总是会收到回报的——看看简，最终获得了财富，并与她的罗切斯特先生结了婚。噢，我实在是太替简高兴了！
后来，我读了另一本小说《呼啸山庄》，它描述了一段发生在约克郡荒野上的令人销魂的爱情故事。凯瑟琳·厄恩肖完全俘获了我。她之所以俘获了我，并不是因为我可以忽视她那冒险、阴暗和暴力的精神，而恰恰是源于这种精神。
凯茜像摩尔人一样狂野。她撒谎、放纵、行骗。她傲慢无礼、自私自利、操纵别人、残酷无情。
她与温顺、懦弱的埃德加结了婚，而不是与她的真命天子希斯克利夫。她背叛了自己的那段爱情，在一篇春心悸动而又容易被遗忘的散文里，她用狂野和劲爆来形容那段爱情。“我对希斯克利夫的爱就像地下永恒的岩石一样——是一种不是很明显的愉悦，但非常必要。傻瓜，我是希斯克利夫——他一直萦绕在我心头——并不是作为一种快乐，也超过了我能带给自己的那种快乐——而是作为我生命的一部分……”
现在，有谁在16岁的时候能抵御如此强烈而令人悸动的爱情？谁愿意寻找缺乏剌激的爱情？我穿着红色的法兰绒睡衣，躺下来静静地沉思：难道我们这种难以抑制激情的人必须向传统的道德屈服吗？或者我真的可以选择做一个坏女孩吗？
凯茜·厄恩肖告诉我，我能够如此。《太阳照常升起》中迷茫的布雷特女士就是这样做的。在我看来，18岁的布雷特·阿什利是现代自由女性的化身，她那诱人的新思想在我眼前晃动着。风格的价值她穿着一件套衫毛线衣和一件粗花呢裙，头发像男孩子一样朝后面梳着，她一直就是那样。”突破传统的兴奋我一直在做我想做的事情。”压力下保持优雅的重要性布雷特相当好。她一直很棒。”释放春心带来的刺激：“布雷特以前就与男人有风流韵事。她把一切都告诉了我。”
布雷特结婚了，但却没有爱情，于是她便大量饮酒，随波逐流，并不负责任地投入了一位斗牛士的怀抱。但她还有阶级意识，也有自己的道德。她让斗牛士获得了自由——“如果不是意识到我们待在一起对他不好，我想我会和他住在一起的”。尽管她已破产，她还是说了谎，告诉他我有很多钱……我不能拿他的钱，你知道的。”
布雷特的那种道德与我妈妈在新泽西郊区教给我的不一样。但是，也许我并不想过郊区的生活。也许我想追求更多的东西……获得自由。
大学毕业后，我在纽约的格林尼治村居住了一段时间。在那段时间里，布雷特的形象一直在我的心中。但我没有获得像她那样不顾一切的勇气。在我看来，布雷特非常孤独，也很悲伤；在我看来，凯茜死得太早了。如果代价如此高昂、令人如此痛苦，也许我应该忘记这些不合常规的行为。虽然我很喜欢居住在村庄里，但我并不希望从此以后要一直痛苦地生活下去。我需要一个女主人公，像我一样，在安心经营快乐的家庭生活之前，只希望浅尝一点野性的味道。
在《战争与和平》中，我找到了她。她的名字叫娜塔莎。
娜塔莎是拿破仑时代这部关于俄国社会的史诗般著作的女主角，她“充满诗情画意……可爱迷人……洋溢着生命的活力”。如此迷人的一位女孩，她甜蜜的梦想和热情的冲动与历史和个人的悲剧交织在一起。
她嫁给了英俊潇洒、卓越不凡的安德鲁王子，却又爱上了一个名叫阿纳托尔的无赖。当她收到警告说这种愚蠢而危险的激情会毁掉她时，她说我要尽快地毁灭……”
阿纳托尔的结局很悲惨。娜塔莎想要自杀。安德鲁王子死了。娜塔莎变得脸色苍白、瘦骨嶙峋、沉默寡言。但与布雷特和凯茜不同，她对传统的反抗得到了补救，最后她嫁给了皮埃尔——一位体面、有钱而又忠诚的男人，是那种所有母亲都想让我们与之结婚的男人。
娜塔莎在婚姻中变得更坚强了，“现在，在她的脸上，很少能看到旧生活的煎熬”。她变成了一名模范母亲、一位理想的妻子。“她觉得，她与丈夫能够维持美满的生活，不是因为自己拥有诗意的情感，能够吸引丈夫，而是因为其他一些东西——一些不确定的、但如同把她的身体和灵魂联系在一起的纽带一样牢固的东西。”
这听起来——如果不是简单且注定的——就是极美好的一件事。
接下来的那年，我结婚了，离开了格林尼治村，当时我很认同娜塔莎。我为家庭生活做好了准备。接着……她丈夫和孩子们成为了“娜塔莎全身心关注的焦点”。她已经失去了自我，但我不想失去自我。接下来我需要一位女主人公，一位能够协调我天性中一切矛盾需求的女主人公——激情和安静、自主和完整、雄心与爱情、婚姻和家庭。
但是，无论在小说中，还是现实生活中，这样颇具协调能力的女主人公可能迄今为止还没出生呢。
然而，娜塔莎、简、乔、凯茜、南希和布雷特——她们每一个都与我有过心贴心的交流，强烈地鼓舞了我。在我的成长过程中，很幸运有她们的陪伴。她们曾经并永远都是我生命的一部分。
Key Words:
detective [di'tektiv]
adj. 侦探的
n. 侦探
understand [.ʌndə'stænd]
vt. 理解，懂，听说，获悉，将 ... 理解为，认为<
convertible [kən'və:təbl]
adj. 可改变的，可交换，同意义的 n. 有活动摺篷的
audacity [ɔ:'dæsiti]
n. 大胆，厚颜
faithful ['feiθfəl]
adj. 如实的，忠诚的，忠实的
intelligent [in'telidʒənt]
adj. 聪明的，智能的
statue ['stætju:]
n. 塑像，雕像
staircase ['stɛəkeis]
n. 楼梯
measured ['meʒəd]
adj. 量过的，慎重的，基于标准的，有韵律的 动词me
diary ['daiəri]
n. 日记，日记簿
clumsy ['klʌmzi]
adj. 笨拙的，笨重的，不得体的
sentimental [.senti'mentl]
adj. 感伤性的，感情脆弱的
transition [træn'ziʃən]
n. 过渡，转变
flawless ['flɔ:lis]
adj. 完美的，无瑕疵的
irreverence [i'revərəns]
n. 不敬，非礼，不敬的行为
dubious ['dju:biəs]
adj. 怀疑的，可疑的
temper ['tempə]
n. 脾气，性情
vt. 使缓和，调和 <
saintly ['seintli]
adj. 圣洁的
decent ['di:snt]
adj. 体面的，正派的，得体的，相当好的
vain [vein]
adj. 徒劳的，无效的，自负的，虚荣的
kindness ['kaindnis]
n. 仁慈，好意
brusque [brʌsk]
adj. 唐突的，鲁莽的
firmness ['fə:mnis]
n. 坚固，坚牢，坚定
unwillingness [ʌn'wiliŋnis]
n. 不愿意；不情愿
participation [pɑ:.tisi'peiʃən]
n. 参加，参与
movement ['mu:vmənt]
n. 活动，运动，移动，[音]乐章
inviting [in'vaitiŋ]
adj. 吸引人的，诱人的 动词invite的现在分词
dignity ['digniti]
n. 尊严，高贵，端庄
dazzling ['dæzliŋ]
adj. 令人眼花缭乱的，耀眼的 动词dazzle的现在
intelligence [in'telidʒəns]
n. 理解力，智力
intensity [in'tensiti]
n. 强烈，强度
identified
adj. 被识别的；经鉴定的；被认同者 v. 鉴定（id
manipulative [mə'nipjuleitiv]
adj. 操纵的，巧妙处理的
spite [spait]
n. 恶意，怨恨
vt. 刁难，伤害
convention [kən'venʃən]
n. 大会，协定，惯例，公约
insolent ['insələnt]
adj. 粗野的，无礼的
reliable [ri'laiəbl]
adj. 可靠的，可信的
independence [.indi'pendəns]
n. 独立，自主，自立
respectable [ri'spektəbl]
n. 品格高尚的人
adj. 值得尊重的，人格
challenge ['tʃælindʒ]
n. 挑战
pressure ['preʃə]
n. 压力，压强，压迫
v. 施压
passion ['pæʃən]
n. 激情，酷爱
delight [di'lait]
n. 高兴，快乐
v. (使)高兴，(使)欣喜
prose [prəuz]
adj. 散文的
n. 散文
morality [mə'ræliti]
n. 道德，美德，品行，道德观
conventional [kən'venʃənl]
adj. 传统的，惯例的，常规的
resist [ri'zist]
v. 抵抗，反抗，抵制，忍住
n. 防蚀涂层
meek [mi:k]
adj. 温顺的，谦恭的
alluring ['ə'ljuəriŋ]
adj. 迷人的，吸引人的；诱惑的，诱人的
settle ['setl]
v. 安顿，解决，定居
gallantry ['gæləntri]
n. 勇敢，英勇，殷勤
irresponsible [.iri'spɔnsəbl]
adj. 不负责任的，不可靠的，没有承担能力的
heroine ['herəuin]
n. 女英雄，女主角
passionate ['pæʃənit]
adj. 热情的，易怒的，激情的
domesticity [.dəumes'tisiti]
n. (喜欢)家庭生活，顾家
epic ['epik]
n. 史诗，叙事诗 adj. 史诗的，叙事诗的，宏大的，
ruin [ruin]
v. 毁灭，毁坏，破产
n. 毁灭，崩溃，废墟
desperate ['despərit]
adj. 绝望的，不顾一切的
charming ['tʃɑ:miŋ]
adj. 迷人的
achieve [ə'tʃi:v]
v. 完成，达到，实现
spoke [spəuk]
v. 说，说话，演说
indefinite [in'definit]
adj. 模糊的，不确定的，无限的
ambition [æm'biʃən]
n. 雄心，野心，抱负，精力
vt. 有 ..
nevertheless [.nevəðə'les]
adv. 仍然，不过
conj. 然而，不过
subdued [səb'dju:d]
adj. 减弱的；被制服的；被抑制的 v. 使服从，压制
bond [bɔnd]
n. 债券，结合，粘结剂，粘合剂
vt. 使结
convention [kən'venʃən]
n. 大会，协定，惯例，公约
substantial [səb'stænʃəl]
adj. 实质的，可观的，大量的，坚固的
decent ['di:snt]
adj. 体面的，正派的，得体的，相当好的
heroine ['herəuin]
n. 女英雄，女主角
参考资料：
- 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第三册:U2B How Books Helped Shaped My Life(1)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
- 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第三册:U2B How Books Helped Shaped My Life(2)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
- 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第三册:U2B How Books Helped Shaped My Life(3)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
- 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第三册:U2B How Books Helped Shaped My Life(4)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
- 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第三册:U2B How Books Helped Shaped My Life(5)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
- 现代大学英语精读(第2版)第三册:U2B How Books Helped Shaped My Life(6)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
现代大学英语精读(第2版)第三册:U2B How Books Helped Shaped My Life(7)_大学教材听力 - 可可英语
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