世界上最有名的短篇小说

Ⅰ 世界十大著名短篇小说集 世界十大短篇小说名著

世界十大著名短篇小说集，是文学爱好者和读者的珍藏。这些作品因其独特的文学价值和深远的影响而备受推崇。首先，我们来看看《羊脂球》。莫泊桑的这部作品不仅因其精湛的写作风格而闻名，更因其深刻的社会批判和细腻的人物刻画而受到推崇。书中通过一个法国妓女的视角，展现了19世纪末法国社会的种种矛盾和人性的复杂。

其次是《百年孤独》的短篇版本。尽管它在榜单上的位置可能不如长篇，但其丰富的想象力和魔幻现实主义风格仍让无数读者为之倾倒。这本书通过一个家族的故事，探讨了时间的循环、命运的不可抗性和人性的多面性。

接下来是《了不起的盖茨比》的短篇集。尽管并非原作，但这些短篇故事仍然展现了菲茨杰拉德对美国梦的深刻反思和批判。书中人物的悲剧命运和对美好生活的向往，让人不禁反思现实与梦想之间的距离。

《红与黑》的短篇集也值得一读。这部作品通过不同视角展现了法国大革命后的社会变迁和人性的挣扎。书中对权力、爱情和牺牲的描绘，让读者对19世纪法国社会有了更深刻的了解。

《一千零一夜》的短篇故事集则以其丰富的想象力和奇幻色彩著称。这些故事不仅展现了古代中东的文化和传统，更通过各种奇幻元素传达了对爱情、勇气和智慧的颂扬。

《莫泊桑短篇小说集》作为法国文学的经典之作，其作品以其简洁明快的语言和深刻的主题赢得了读者的喜爱。这些故事不仅展示了作者对社会现象的敏锐观察，更通过对人物心理的深入剖析，揭示了人性的复杂性。

《契诃夫短篇小说集》中的作品以其独特的幽默感和深刻的人文关怀而著称。契诃夫通过对小人物生活的细腻描绘，揭示了社会的荒谬和人性的脆弱。

《欧·亨利短篇小说集》则以其出人意料的结局和对人性的深刻洞察而闻名。欧·亨利的作品往往在结尾处给出一个意想不到的转折，让读者在惊讶之余对人性有了更深的理解。

《爱伦·坡短篇小说集》以其恐怖和悬疑风格而闻名。爱伦·坡的作品不仅在文学史上占有重要地位，更因其独特的风格和深刻的内涵而深受读者喜爱。

《夏目漱石短篇小说集》则以其独特的东方视角和深刻的人文关怀而著称。夏目漱石的作品通过细腻的笔触和深刻的洞察，展现了一个日本知识分子对社会和人性的思考。

Ⅱ 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.

Ⅲ 世界四大短篇小说家是哪四位

世界四大短篇小说巨匠是：
1. 法国的莫泊桑，他是19世纪法国著名的批判现实主义小说家，代表作有短篇小说《羊脂球》、《项链》等，长篇小说《一生》、《俊友》（漂亮的朋友）等。
2. 俄国的契诃夫，他是19世纪俄国批判现实主义作家、戏剧家和短篇小说艺术大师，代表作有短篇小说《变色龙》、《苦恼》、《万卡》、《第六病室》、《套中人》等。
3. 美国的欧·亨利，他是19世纪末20世纪初美国现实主义著名作家，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。
4. 美国的马克·吐温，他是美国幽默大师、小说家、著名演说家，代表作有《百万英镑》、《哈克贝利·费恩历险记》、《汤姆·索亚历险记》等。

Ⅳ 必看的十佳短篇小说

必看的十佳短篇小说是：《孔乙己》、《竹林中》、《一块牛排》、《命若琴弦》、《古典爱情》、《河边的台阶》、《麦琪的礼物》、《我的叔叔于勒》、《白象似的群山》、《装在套子里的人》。

1、《孔乙己》

《孔乙己》不但是鲁迅最好的短篇小说，也是中国乃至世界短篇小说的巅峰之一。这篇小说，我们初中时就曾在语文课本中学习过，也许一辈子都不能完全读懂。孔乙己是一个非常饱斗晌森满的艺术形象，在他身上集中了那个时代知识分子的悲剧，他身上折射了一个时代的悲剧。大约孔乙己的确死了，可是现在和将来还有无数孔乙己活着。