"My Mother" is Mr. Lao She's first detailed recollection of his mother's life experience, his difficult birth, his father's death, his family's misfortune when Eight-Nation Alliance burned and killed Beijing, his mother's strong and sour family, and his lifelong strength and poverty.

The language of the article is simple, emotional and full of rich humanistic atmosphere.

The whole article is haunted by an unadorned touching emotion, which presents us with the image of a mother who loves her son without trace and moistens things silently, and expresses the author's deep respect and nostalgia for her mother. It is Mr. Lao She's best prose work.

This essay was published in1April, 943 in the ninth and tenth issues of Half Moon Literature.

Lao She lost his father when he was a child, and was brought up by his mother alone. He has a very deep feeling with his mother. My mother died in the summer of 1942, in Peiping. At that time, Lao She was engaged in the literary creation and organization of the Anti-Japanese War alone in the rear area. At first, his family didn't dare to tell him the news of his mother's death immediately, for fear of aggravating his loneliness and pain. It took half a year to reveal it in a letter at home. For a long time, every time Lao She received a letter from home, she didn't dare to open it immediately for fear of unfortunate news. Lao she has been shrouded in an ominous sign, because for a year, there was no mention of her mother's daily life in her home letter. Recalling the mood at that time, Lao She said: "I doubt, I am afraid. I can imagine that there is no misfortune, or that I am lonely in exile at home and can't bear to tell you. " 1Feb. 26th, I received a letter from home, but Lao She still dared not open it. Before going to bed, I opened it. At this time, my mother had passed away for one year. Lao She recalled: "I was 23 years old, and my mother wanted me to get married, but I didn't want to ... At the age of 27, I went to England. For myself, I gave my mother in her sixties a second blow. " On his mother's seventieth birthday, Lao She was still in a foreign country. This year, Lao She wrote back before her mother's birthday, but she got the news that her mother had died for one year ... So, he was full of blood and tears, and for the first time, he recalled in detail her mother's life experience, her difficult birth, her father's death, her family's misfortune when she burned and killed Beijing in Eight-Nation Alliance, her mother's support for her family's strength and bitterness, and her lifelong strength and poverty.

My Mother, written in memory of my mother, is Mr. Lao She's best essay.

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Second, attach the original text

My mother

Author: Lao She

Mother's maiden is in a small village outside Desheng Gate in Beiping, outside Tucheng, on the road leading to Dazhong Temple. There are four or five families in the village, all surnamed Ma. Everyone plants some land that is not very fertile, but my brothers of the same age are soldiers, carpenters, plasterers and inspectors. Although they are farmers, they can't afford cattle and horses. When there are not enough people, women have to work in the fields.

For grandma's family, I only know the above. I don't know what grandparents are like, because they have already passed away. As for the farther lineage and family history, I don't even know; The poor can only care about the food and clothing in front of them, and have no time to talk about the glory of the past; The word "genealogy" has never been heard of in my childhood.

Mother was born in a farmhouse, so she is diligent and honest, and she is in good health. This fact is extremely important, because if I don't have such a mother, I'm afraid I'll have to make a big discount.

My mother probably got married very early, because my elder sister is now an old woman in her sixties, and my eldest niece is one year older than me. I have three brothers and four sisters, but only the elder sister, the second sister, the third brother and I can grow up. I am the "old" son. When I was born, my mother was forty-one years old, and my eldest sister and second sister were all married.

Judging from the family married by the elder sister and the second sister, before I was born, my family was probably just so-so. At that time, the betrothal paid attention to the right family, while the elder sister-in-law was a small official, and the second sister-in-law also opened a pub. They were all quite decent people.

However, I, I brought misfortune to my family: after I was born, my mother fainted in the middle of the night, only to open her eyes and see her old son-thanks to the elder sister for holding me in her arms and not freezing to death.

At the age of one and a half, I killed my father "Dick". My brother is less than ten years old, my third sister is twelve or thirteen years old, and I am only one and a half years old. I was raised by my mother alone. My father's widowed sister lives with us. She smokes opium, likes playing cards, and she has a bad temper. For our food and clothing, mother will wash clothes, mend or tailor clothes for others. As far as I can remember, her hands are red and slightly swollen all year round. During the day, she washes clothes and one or two big green earthen pots. She never does anything perfunctory, even the black cloth socks sent by butchers are washed white. In the evening, she held an oil lamp with her third sister and had to mend clothes until midnight. She has no rest all the year round, but in her busy schedule, she keeps the yard clean. The tables and chairs are all old, and the copper work of the cupboard door has been incomplete for a long time, but her hands always make the broken desktop free of dust, and the broken copper work shines. In the courtyard, the pots of pomegranate and oleander left by my father will always be watered and cared for, and many flowers will bloom every summer.

My brother seems to have never played with me. Sometimes, he goes to study; Sometimes, he apprentices; Sometimes, he also sells small things like peanuts or cherries. Mother sent him away with tears in her eyes, and in less than two days, she took him back with tears in her eyes. I don't understand what this is all about, but I just feel strange to him. It is my third sister and I who are as dependent on my mother as life. Therefore, I always follow them when they do things. They water the flowers, and I also get water; They sweep the floor, and I gather dirt ... From here, I learned to love flowers, clean and keep order. These habits are still preserved by me.

When guests come, no matter how embarrassed they are, mother will try to get something to entertain them. My uncle and cousins often buy wine and meat by themselves, which makes her face blush, but they give them warm wine and give her some joy. When there is a wedding or funeral at home, my mother will wash her gown and go to congratulate her personally-a gift may be just two small pieces of money. Up to now, my hospitable habit has not been completely changed, although life is so hard, because things that I have been used to since childhood are not easy to get rid of.

My aunt often loses her temper. She looked for bones in eggs alone. She is the king of hell in my family. She didn't die until I entered middle school, but I didn't see my mother resist. "I haven't been angry with my mother-in-law, haven't I been influenced by my sister-in-law? Life is like this! " Mother said this only when she had to explain that it was not enough to convince others. Yes, it's fate. Mother is never too old, poor to be old, and hard to be old. It is all fate. She will suffer the most. She always runs ahead to help her relatives and neighbors: she will wash the baby three times-poor friends can spend less money on "grandma"-she will shave the children's heads, she will wring the faces of young women ... whatever she can do, she will be responsive. However, quarreling and fighting will never have her. She would rather suffer than be angry. When my aunt died, my mother seemed to cry all the grievances of her life until the grave. I don't know where a nephew came from, claiming the right of inheritance, but his mother silently taught him to move those broken tables and benches, and gave him a fat chicken raised by his aunt.

However, mother is not weak. My father died in the year when boxer made a fist fight. Allied forces entered the city and searched from house to house for property, chickens and ducks. We were searched twice. Mother took her brother and third sister to sit on the wall, waiting for the "devil" to enter the door, and the street door was open. When the "devil" came in, he stabbed the old yellow dog to death with a bayonet, and then searched the room. After they left, my mother lifted the broken suitcase and found me. If the box had not been empty, I would have been crushed to death. The emperor ran away, her husband died, and the devil came. The city was full of lotus flower flames, but the mother was not afraid. She wanted to protect her children under the bayonet and in the famine. There are many accidents in Peiping. Sometimes there are mutinies, and the whole market is on fire, and the fire ball falls in our courtyard. Sometimes there is a civil war, the city gates are closed, shops are closed, and guns are ringing day and night. This panic, this nervousness, coupled with the planning of a family's diet and concerns about the safety of children, can a weak old widow bear it? However, at this time, my mother's heart is crossed, and she doesn't panic or cry, so she has to find a way out of nothing. Her tears will fall to her heart! This soft and hard character was also passed on to me. I take a peaceful attitude towards all people and things and take losses as a matter of course. However, as a human being, I have certain purposes and basic rules, and I can do everything without exceeding the boundaries I have drawn. I am afraid of meeting strangers, running errands, and showing my face; But when I have to go, I dare not go, just like my mother. From private schools to primary schools and middle schools, I have experienced at least 20 teachers, some of whom have had a great influence on me and some have no influence at all, but my real teacher, who passed on my personality, is my mother. My mother can't read. What she gave me was the education of life.

When I graduated from primary school, my relatives and friends unanimously wanted me to learn skills to help my mother. I know I should find food to relieve my mother's hard work and hardship. However, I am also willing to go to school. I secretly entered the normal school-uniforms, meals, books, accommodation, all supplied by the school. Only in this way can I dare to tell my mother about going to school. To enter school, you have to pay a deposit of ten yuan, which is a huge sum! My mother struggled for half a month to raise this huge sum of money, and then sent me out with tears in her eyes. She goes to great pains, as long as her son is promising. When I graduated from normal school and was appointed as the principal of a primary school, my mother and I didn't sleep a wink all night. I just said, "In the future, you can have a rest!" Her answer was only a string of tears. After I entered school, Third Sister got married. A mother loves her children equally, but if she is a little partial, she should be partial to Third Sister, because everything in the family has been supported by her mother and Third Sister since her father died. Third sister is the mother's right hand, but the mother knows that this right hand must be cut off. She can't delay her daughter's youth for her own convenience. When the sedan chair came to our door, my mother's hands were as cold as ice, and her face was bloodless-it was April in the lunar calendar, and the weather was very warm, and everyone was afraid that she would faint. However, she struggled, bit her lip, held the door frame with her hand and watched the sedan chair walk slowly. Soon, my aunt died. Third sister is married, my brother is not at home, and I live in school, leaving only my mother at home. She had to operate from morning till night, but no one said a word to her all day. The new year is coming, just in time for the government to advocate the use of the solar calendar and not to celebrate the old year. On New Year's Eve, I took two hours off and went back to my home to clean the stove and cool the stove from the crowded market. Mother smiled. When I heard that I had to go back to school, she froze. It was a long time before she sighed. When it was time for me to go, she handed me some peanuts. "Go on, boy!" " The street was so busy, but I didn't see anything. Tears blinded my eyes. Today, tears cover my eyes again, and I think of my loving mother who spent that miserable New Year's Eve alone that day. However, the loving mother won't wait for me any longer, she has been buried!

Children's lives do not follow the track cast by their parents, so the elderly are always sad. I am 23 years old. My mother wants me to get married, but I don't want it. I invited my third sister to intercede for me, and my mother nodded tearfully. I love my mother, but I gave her the biggest blow. Times have made me a rebel. At the age of 27, I went to England. For myself, I gave my mother in her sixties a second blow. On her seventieth birthday, I was still far away in a foreign country. That day, according to my sisters, the old lady only drank two mouthfuls of wine and went to bed early. She misses her youngest son so much that she can't say it.

After the July 7th Anti-Japanese War, I escaped from Jinan. Beiping was occupied by devils again like that year of Gengzi, but the youngest son, whom his mother missed day and night, ran to the southwest. I can imagine how my mother misses me, but I can't go back. Whenever I receive a letter from home, I always dare not open it at once. I am afraid, afraid, afraid, afraid of the unknown news. People, even if they live to be 80 or 90 years old, can be somewhat childish with their mothers. Losing a loving mother is like a flower in a bottle. Although it still has color and fragrance, it has lost its root. People who have mothers are at peace in their hearts. I'm afraid, afraid, afraid that the letter from home will bring bad news, telling me that I have lost my roots.

Last year, I couldn't find anything about my mother's daily life in my home letter. I doubt and fear. I can imagine that there is no misfortune, and I am lonely in exile at home, or I can't bear to tell you. Mother's birthday is in September, and I wrote a birthday letter in August and a half, expecting to arrive before the birthday. The letter told me to write down the details of my birthday, so that I no longer had doubts. On December 26, I came back from the cultural labor army conference and received a letter from home. I dare not open it. Before I went to bed, I opened the letter. My mother had been dead for a year!

My mother gave me life. I can grow up because of my mother's blood and sweat. I am not a very bad person because of my mother's influence. My personality and habits were passed down from my mother. She never enjoyed a day's happiness, and she ate coarse grains when she died! Alas! What else are you talking about? Heartache! Heartache!

Third, the relevant information

Appreciation of Lao She s My Mother;

In this essay, Lao She talks about her mother's life experience. Tracing back to the source in this way, the article is rich in the development and changes of the plot, although it is scattered.

Writing is as fascinating as fiction. A sense of plot is a feature of this paper, and it is also a genius novelist and dramatist of Lao She.

The true colors, talk about, every point actually makes people feel interesting. This sense of plot not only does not weaken the authenticity of the article, but on the contrary.

Those who love Lao She and want to know him have found the most reliable information about his mother and her relatives.

Lao She vividly wrote all kinds of excellent qualities of her mother along the clue of "live to be old, poor to be old, and hard to be old". From "diligence"

Frugal and honest "to" no rest all the year round ",from" hospitable habit "to" most vulnerable ",from" responsive "to" not weak "

There is not a word of "soft and hard character" that can't fall to the ground, and there is not a word that is not followed by a concrete, distinctive and vivid one.

Image. This is another feature of this paper-the sense of image. Many details give people an indelible impression. For example, "Her?

Hands are red and slightly swollen all year round ... even the cloth socks as black as iron sent by butchers, she was washed white. " A few pen, a "do"

The image of a diligent working woman is vivid. Mother's image in drama (Great Pinghu)

From these two sentences, we can imagine how deeply this image has left a tremor in the playwright's mind. Besides, being an uncle

When father and cousins "paid for wine and meat themselves", "mother was blushing". The inner stubbornness is competitive, but in the brushwork,

It is strongly reflected. Mother's selflessness is also manifested in her marriage to Third Sister. "She can't delay her daughter's youth for her own convenience",

She struggled, bit her lip, held the doorframe with her hand and watched the sedan chair walk slowly. This scene, for the mother, is tragic. Most urgent

What people shed tears is the emotional changes of their mother on New Year's Eve, from "laughing", "stupefied" and "sighing" to "handing me some peanuts".

Say "go, less than", the mother's voice and smile are all in sight, and the level of emotional change is ups and downs. Tears covered Lao She's eyes,

Readers can't help but feel sour. The sense of image is Lao She's reward to her mother as a novelist and dramatist.

In addition to the sense of image and plot, there are many comments about the author himself and his feelings. In the recollection article, this is

It is indispensable. Although she is writing about her mother and an ordinary woman, she has something unusual after all, that is, she is China.

The nation gave birth to a great writer, and gave him a "life education", which enabled him to gain a good reputation in personality, habits, behavior and so on.

To a valuable virtue that has accumulated thousands of years of fine traditions of the Chinese nation. In this regard, it is really necessary to speak one's mind directly.

People want to know why Lao She is Lao She, so Lao She uses these arguments to reveal a potential answer that ordinary people don't know. Lao She

Call mother a "real teacher", and write down the fundamental meaning of mother to him in a sentence pattern that is almost parallel at the end, thus making

People naturally turn their love for Lao She into admiration and memory for his mother.

The full text begins with a calm tone, with more and more strong feelings, deeper emotional appeal, more and more excited tone and tighter sentence potential.

To promote, until the breast-pounding loudly call, "heartache! Heartache! " The heart of a pure child overflows outside the article; Come to an abrupt end, the aftertaste is endless.