世界著名短篇小说有声小说

1. 好听的有声小说有哪些

我本人一直在听书，推荐几本我自己喜欢的有声小说有周浩辉的死亡通知单三部曲《斗破苍穹》《救赎》《离别曲》紫金陈的高智商犯罪系列、谋杀官员系列、《长夜难眠》（刑侦推理）

天下霸唱的鬼吹灯《精绝古城》《龙岭迷窟》共8部推荐1~2部后面的太夸张不喜欢（盗墓）
萧鼎的《诛仙》（玄幻）
庚新的《恶汉》（穿越三国）
z大的《无限恐怖》（无限流开山之作）
静官的《兽血沸腾》（穿越、魔幻）
还有挺多的一下子想不起来，这些小说都比较好找随便下个听书的app基本上都能找得到

2. 有没有什么好听的有声小说呢

好听的有声小说推荐如下：

1、《凡人修仙传》

连载于起点中文网的一部仙侠修真小说，作者是忘语。小说讲述了一个普通的山村穷小子，偶然之下，跨入到一个江湖小门派，虽然资质平庸，但依靠自身努力和合理算计最后修炼成仙的故事。

5、《仙逆》

《仙逆》是连载在起点中文网的一本已完结的玄幻修真小说，作者是耳根。小说讲述的是一个资质平庸的少年——王林，机缘巧合下踏入修真仙途，历经坎坷，一步一步走向巅峰，凭一己之力，扬名修真界的故事。

3. 推荐几部你认为最好的有声小说

古言！！！！（武侠、仙侠、江湖、重生、穿越、悬疑推理、宅斗）
男女主播都有~~~~

喜马拉雅:
1.媚公卿 风泠版「重生」
2.红颜乱 「架空」
3.千香引 「仙侠」
4.秀丽江山「穿越历史」
5.女心理师之江湖断案 「穿越」
6.医妃难求 「穿越」
7.春日宴 「重生」
8.良陈美锦 小夜光版「重生」
9.三嫁未晚 「仙侠」
10.簪中录 悬疑推理
云听app:
11.天下倾歌
12.浮屠塔
13.瓷骨
酷我听书:
13.步步惊华懒妃逆天下 「穿越」
网页:
14.妃池中物不嫁断袖王爷 忧蓝版 「穿越」
15.迷侠记、迷行记 「武侠」
16.大明江湖宅女记 「穿越江湖」
17.温柔一刀、一怒拔剑、惊艳一枪、伤心小箭 「说英雄谁是英雄系列」

觉得一般的剧（听时过瘾，听完就忘）:
喜马拉雅:
调笑令
真人不露相
自古美人出混蛋
双阙
执子之手将子拖走
女捕头
绾青丝
无方少年游
淑女好逑
楚乔传原著
香蜜沉沉烬如霜
七小姐嫁到
沉香雪
美人难嫁
天下第一嫁
幸得相逢未嫁时
美人谋律
和亲公主
七夜雪
摄政王的小狼妃
祥云朵朵当空飘
忘君九回
何处孤凰长乐未央
娇谋职世子在上
懒人听书:
三千鸦杀
佳偶天成
妙偶天成
斩春
权臣闲妻
帝王业
花开春暖
乘龙
………都是听完了的，个人口味.......

4. 最著名的有声小说有哪些

第三部：《鬼吹灯》，盗墓有声小说

这部小说是我听的第一部有声小说，对他有着无限的怀念，直到今日，周建龙版的鬼吹灯依旧是我心中的经典。无论这部小说如何被翻牌成电影、电视剧，都无法和有声小说相比。因为恐惧来自幻想，所以听鬼吹灯比看更加刺激。
第一部：《双宇》，科幻有声小说

脑洞太大了，虽然它像个大杂烩，虽然里面很多科学理论我并不认同，但依旧不能掩盖它的锋芒。如果说它有缺点，就是这本书埋得太深了，以至于不到最后，你根本不知道作者在写什么。
第二部：《王的女人谁敢动》，古代穿越有声小说

作为喜马拉雅出品的有声书，肯定不是泛泛之辈。这部作品无论从文笔还是配音都相当成熟，在这个系列中属于佼佼者。如果说它有缺点，就是题材比较老套，但作者却把如此老套的穿越写得很有趣味。

5. 世界著名短篇小说

THE GIFT OF THE
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is graally subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze ring a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out lly at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

Jim looked about the room curiously.

"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The ll precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of plication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

6. 好听的有声小说推荐几个吧！

我本人一直在听书，推荐几本我自己喜欢的有声小说
周浩辉的死亡通知单三部曲《宿命》《救赎》《离别曲》（广播剧，刑侦推理）
紫金陈的高智商犯罪系列、谋杀官员系列、《长夜难眠》（刑侦推理）
崔走召的命运三部曲《我当阴阳先生那些年》《我当鸟人那些年》《三途志》（鬼怪灵异）
九把刀的《楼下的房客》（恐怖短篇）
张小花的《史上第一混乱》（反穿越搞）
国王陛下的《从前有座灵剑》（玄幻搞笑。小说完结但是有声小说各app都只有422集无奈）
蝴蝶兰的《全职高手》（网游小说）
天下霸唱的鬼吹灯《精绝古城》《龙岭迷窟》共8部推荐1~2部后面的太夸张不喜欢（盗墓）
萧鼎的《诛仙》（玄幻）
庚新的《恶汉》（穿越三国）
z大的《无限恐怖》（无限流开山之作）
静官的《兽血沸腾》（穿越、魔幻）
还有挺多的一下子想不起来，这些小说都比较好找随便下个听书的app基本上都能找得到

7. 介绍几个好听的有声小说

我本人一直在听书，推荐几本我自己喜欢的有声小说有周浩辉的死亡通知单三部曲《斗破苍穹》《救赎》《离别曲》紫金陈的高智商犯罪系列、谋杀官员系列、《长夜难眠》（刑侦推理）

天下霸唱的鬼吹灯《精绝古城》《龙岭迷窟》共8部推荐1~2部后面的太夸张不喜欢（盗墓）
萧鼎的《诛仙》（玄幻）
庚新的《恶汉》（穿越三国）
z大的《无限恐怖》（无限流开山之作）
静官的《兽血沸腾》（穿越、魔幻）
还有挺多的一下子想不起来，这些小说都比较好找随便下个听书的app基本上都能找得到

8. 世界著名短篇小说有哪些

(1)莫泊桑
十九世纪法国著名的批判现实主义小说家.1880年发表第一个短篇小说《羊脂球》,此后陆续写了一大批思想性和艺术性完美结合的短篇小说,博得世界短篇小说巨匠的赞誉.他的创作广泛而深刻地反映了十九世纪后半期的法国社会现实,无情地揭露了资产阶级道德风尚的丑恶,对下层社会的"小人物"寄予同情.小说构思新颖,描写生动,人物语言个性化,布局谋篇别具匠心.代表作有短篇小说《羊脂球》,《项链》等,长篇小说《一生》,《俊友》(又译做《漂亮的朋友》等.
(2)契可夫
十世世纪俄国批判现实主义作家,戏剧家和短篇小说艺术大师.他的早期合作讽刺和揭露了俄国社会官场人物媚上欺下的丑恶面目,写得谐趣横生,发人深思.八十年代中期,他创作了既幽默又富于悲剧的短篇小说,反映了社会底层人民的被侮辱被损害的不幸生活,具有深刻的思想意义.代表作有短篇小说《变色龙》,《苦恼》,《万卡》,《第六病室》,《套中人》等.
(3)欧.亨利
十九世纪末二十世纪初美国现实主义著名作家.曾被诬告罪入狱三年.后迁居纽约,专事写作,他几乎每周写一篇短篇小说,供报刊发表.他一生创作了近三百篇短篇小说和一部长篇小说,对腐朽的资本主义制度,反人道的法律,虚伪的道德给予揭露和讽刺.代表作有长篇小说《白菜与皇帝》,短篇小说《麦琪的礼物》,《警察与赞美诗》等.

9. 世界十大名著有声读物

1．红楼梦（又名《石头记》） （清） 曹雪芹；
2．水浒传 （明） 施耐庵；
3．三国演义 （明） 罗贯中；
4．西游记 （明） 吴承恩；
5．镜花缘 （清） 李汝珍；
6．儒林外史 （清） 吴敬梓；
7．封神演义 （明） 许仲琳；
8．聊斋志异 （清） 蒲松龄；
9．官场现形记 （清） 李宝嘉；
10．东周列国志 （明） 冯梦龙；