ترغب OverDrive في استخدام ملفات تعريف الارتباط (الكوكيز) لتخزين المعلومات على جهاز الكمبيوتر الخاص بك لتحسين تجربة المستخدم الخاصة بك على موقعنا. ويعتبر أحد ملفات تعريف الارتباط التي نستخدمها بالغ الأهمية لجوانب معينة لكي يعمل الموقع وقد تم ضبطه بالفعل. ويمكنك حذف ومنع كل ملفات تعريف الارتباط من هذا الموقع، ولكن هذا قد يؤثر على ميزات أو خدمات معينة للموقع. لمعرفة المزيد عن ملفات تعريف الارتباط التي نستخدمها وكيفية حذفها، انقر هنا للاطلاع على سياسة الخصوصية التي نتبعها.
Another such wave could easily be the end of us. I had to do something, fix something, save the boat, save myself. But what? Gary Paulsen takes readers along on his maiden voyage, proving that ignorance can be bliss. Also really stupid and incredibly dangerous. He tells of boats that have owned him—good, bad, and beloved—and how they got him through terrifying storms that he survived by sheer luck. His spare prose conjures up shark surprises and killer waves as well as moonlight on the sea, and makes readers feel what it’s like to sail under the stars or to lie at anchor in a tropical lagoon where dolphins leap, bathed in silver. Falling in love with the ocean set Gary Paulsen on a lifelong learning curve and readers will understand why his passion has lasted to this day.
Another such wave could easily be the end of us. I had to do something, fix something, save the boat, save myself. But what? Gary Paulsen takes readers along on his maiden voyage, proving that ignorance can be bliss. Also really stupid and incredibly dangerous. He tells of boats that have owned him—good, bad, and beloved—and how they got him through terrifying storms that he survived by sheer luck. His spare prose conjures up shark surprises and killer waves as well as moonlight on the sea, and makes readers feel what it’s like to sail under the stars or to lie at anchor in a tropical lagoon where dolphins leap, bathed in silver. Falling in love with the ocean set Gary Paulsen on a lifelong learning curve and readers will understand why his passion has lasted to this day.
بسبب قيود الناشر، لا تستطيع المكتبة شراء نسخ إضافية من هذا العنوان، ونحن نعتذر إذا كانت هناك قائمة انتظار طويلة. تأكد من التحقق من وجود نسخ أخرى، لأنه قد تكون هناك طبعات أخرى متاحة.
بسبب قيود الناشر، لا تستطيع المكتبة شراء نسخ إضافية من هذا العنوان، ونحن نعتذر إذا كانت هناك قائمة انتظار طويلة. تأكد من التحقق من وجود نسخ أخرى، لأنه قد تكون هناك طبعات أخرى متاحة.
مقتطفات-
From the book
The First Sail
I was discharged from the army after nearly four years, most of it spent at Fort Bliss, Texas, in May of 1962. 1 hated every second of my time in the army and although I was still very young, I did not think I could salvage the time I had just wasted, or that I could save my ruined life. I know how ridiculous that sounds now, but the feeling was real then. I remember sitting in my old truck in El Paso, Texas, thinking that I was done, had no future, and the thought popped in out of nowhere that if I didn't see water soon I would die.
Now I'm amazed to remember how much I missed the sea, because it hadn't been a real part of my life between the ages of ten and seventeen,
when I enlisted. Maybe I longed for it now because of all the time spent eating sand in the winds of the desert.
I drove to California that very day, straight to the coast, then north, away from people, to a small town named Guadalupe, near Santa Maria. There I bought some cans of beans and bread and Spam and fruit cocktail and a cheap sleeping bag and then walked out through the sand dunes, where I could hear the surf crashing. I walked until I could see the water coming in, rolling in from the vastness, and I sat down and let the sea heal me.
I was there six days and nights. Before dark each night I gathered driftwood for a fire. The salt in the wood makes it slow to burn and it was difficult to light. But I worked at it until there was a good blaze going. I would heat a can of beans and sit there not thinking, really not thinking of anything at all, listening to the waves roll in and licking the salt from the spray off my lips until the heat from the fire made me sleepy. Then I would crawl into my bag near a huge log that must have ridden the Pacific currents down from the British Columbian forests, and I would sleep as if drugged, as if dead.
Today you would see people there. Today there are developments and beach houses and condos and malls and noise and garbage and oil. But then I saw nobody, heard nothing but the gulls and the crashing sea and now and then the bark of a seal as it hunted the kelp beds just offshore.
it would be easy to say it was peaceful and just drop it there. And it was peaceful. Years later I would come to run sled dogs in the North woods, and to run the iditarod race in Alaska, and there would be moments of incredible serenity then, quiet and cold and peaceful, but nothing quite like that time after the army when the sea saved me.
I went away from there a new person, and I also began to understand things about myself, that I must see and know the oceans. I must go to the sea, as the writers Herman Melville and Richard Henry Dana, Jr., and Ernest K. Gann and Sterling Hayden had done. Like them, I must seek myself there, as the novelist James Jones did as he was writing Go to the Widow-Maker.
To do that, I would need a boat.
When first I thought about boats, the intensity and obsessiveness that people brought to them seemed overbearing, silly. Most boat owners I met seemed ridiculously anal and boring-as indeed some of them are -
Except for trapping in the North woods with a canoe, I knew absolutely nothing about boats. I had crossed the Pacific that one time at the age of seven in a navy ship, and my knowledge of that was limited to old, dented steel, the hum of huge engines, and a bunch of kind sailors who wanted me to introduce them to my mother, who was young and lovely and almost terminally seasick.
When I was about fourteen, I made one wild attempt at sailing. in a book on woodcraft I found a drawing of a "sailing canoe" and built a sixteenfoot canvas canoe from a kit that I sent...
نبذة حول المؤلف-
Gary Paulsen is the distinguished author of many critically acclaimed books for young people, including three Newbery Honor Books: The Winter Room, Hatchet, and Dogsong. His most recent Delacorte books are The Beet Fields: Memories of a Sixteenth Summer and Guts: The True Stories Behind Hatchet and the Brian Books.
المراجعات-
January 1, 2002 Paulsen describes his adventures at sea with several boats he has owned, including the first, when he lacked sufficient sailing knowledge and got caught in a severe storm. Although the text defines most sailing terms and rigging mentioned, a labeled diagram or glossary would have been helpful. Paulsen's white-knuckle accounts will be most appreciated by readers who have sailing experience.
(Copyright 2002 by The Horn Book, Incorporated, Boston. All rights reserved.)
September 15, 2001 Gr. 5-8. Paulsen's lifelong passion for the sea began when he was seven. His mother smuggled him on a troopship, where he witnessed a gruesome, unforgettable plane crash that killed several people. Several years later, the sea called him back, this time to excitement rather than tragedy. Paulsen traces his life at sea, from buying his first sailboat to getting lost in the Pacific to encountering sharks. In his usual Hemingwayesque style, with spare language and meticulously chosen words, he shares youthful adventures that seem as outsized as his ocean backdrop. His sometimes comic, sometimes near-fatal sea-going errors make for absorbing, captivating reading. The intelligently written, just-barely-over-100-page book will deliver a lot of punch to kids, including ones older than the target audience, who are seeking an easy-to-read volume that meets the minimum-length standards for book reports.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2001, American Library Association.)
October 1, 2001 Gr 7 Up-On the coattails of Guts (Delacorte, 2001) comes another collection of Paulsen's autobiographical vignettes, this time about sailing. His love for the sea began at age seven, aboard a troopship headed to the Philippine Islands. A plane crashed into the water and Paulsen watched as sharks attacked the women and children. Though gruesome, the account is typical of the author's unaffected, matter-of-fact writing style. The rest of the stories are dull in comparison, however, as Paulsen chronicles his experiences with various sailboats over the years. He tries to define the sailing terminology as he uses it, but it is complicated stuff for landlubbers. His writing is adult in tone and he often looks back and reflects on his adventures. The passages about food, reminiscent of those in Father Water, Mother Woods (Doubleday, 1995), are better. When he describes the taste of double-stuffed Oreo cookies, readers taste them, too. It is quintessential Paulsen to describe the number one law of the sea: "If given a chance a container of oatmeal will open, mix with a container of coffee grounds, further combine itself with eight or ten gallons of sea water and then find its way into your sleeping bag." At book's end, Paulsen refers to his age and current heart condition but dangles a carrot in front of readers about a sailing trip around Cape Horn. Stay tuned.-Vicki Reutter, Cazenovia High School, NY
Copyright 2001 School Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.
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Random House Children's Books
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