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丹尼尔·詹姆斯·布朗的《激流男孩》（The Boys in the Boat）以传记的形式，从乔伊的视角，讲述了来自美国华盛顿州的九个小伙子克服种种艰难险阻，在客场及赛道不利的情况下，在1936年柏林举办的奥运会上一举夺得八桨赛艇奥运金牌的感人经历。他们的事迹震惊划艇界，轰动全世界！
主人公乔伊和他的队友几乎全部来自社会底层，而且当时的美国正值经济大萧条时期。五岁时乔伊就失去了亲生母亲，因受后妈的排挤，10岁的乔伊多次被家人寄居于他人家中，15岁开始就被迫独自生活，有时靠采野菜捕鱼虾果腹。为了养活自己他还干过各种超强度的体力活，因此也练就了强壮的体魄和惊人的毅力，以及对团队的强烈归属感。
So began Joe’s life in exile（背井离乡）. Thula would no longer cook for him， so every morning before school and again every evening he trudged（跋涉）down the wagon road（马车道）to the cookhouse at the bottom of the mountain to work for the company cook， Mother Cleveland， in exchange for breakfast and dinner. His job was to carry heavy trays of food—plates heaped up（堆起来）high with hotcakes and bacon in the morning and with slabs（厚片）of meat and steaming potatoes in the evenings—from the cookhouse to the adjoining（比邻的）dining hall， where miners and sawyers（矿工和锯木工）in dirty overalls（工作服）sat at long tables covered with white butcher paper， talking loudly and eating ravenously（贪婪地，狼吞虎咽地）. As the men finished their meals， Joe hauled（拖，拉）their dirty dishes back to the cookhouse. In the evenings he trudged back up the mountain to the schoolhouse to chop more wood， do his schoolwork， and sleep as best he could.
He fed himself and made his way， but his world had grown dark， narrow， and lonely. There were no boys his age whom he could befriend in the camp. His closest companions—his only companions since moving to Boulder City—had always been his father and Harry Junior. Now living in the schoolhouse， he pined for（渴望，思念）the times when the three of them had formed a kind of confederation（同盟）of resistance to Thula’s increasing sourness（乖僻）， sneaking out behind the cabin（从船舱后偷偷溜走）to toss a ball（投球）around among the pine trees（松树）or to roughhouse（斗殴）in the dust， or sitting at the piano， pounding out（连续猛击）their favorite songs whenever she was safely out of earshot（听不见）.
One autumn day the schoolteacher took Joe and the rest of his students on a natural-history field trip into the woods. He led them to an old， rotten stump（树桩）on which a large white fungus（银耳）was growing—a rounded， convoluted（盘绕的）mass of creamy folds and wrinkles. The teacher plucked（拔除）the fungus off the stump， held it aloft（在……上面）， and proclaimed（宣布）it a cauliflower mushroom（花椰菜菇）， Sparassis（甘蓝菌属）radicata（毛头乳菇）. Not only was it edible（可食用的）， the teacher exclaimed， but it was delicious when stewed（炖）slowly. The revelation（出乎意料的事，启示）that one could find free food just sitting on a stump in the woods landed on Joe like a thunderbolt（雷电，霹雳）. That night he lay in his bunk（床铺）in the schoolhouse， staring into the dark rafters（椽）above， thinking. There seemed to be more than a schoolroom science lesson in the discovery of the fungus. If you simply kept your eyes open， it seemed， you just might find something valuable in the most unlikely of places. The trick was to recognized a good thing when you saw it， no matter how odd or worthless it might at first appear， no matter who else might just walk away and leave it behind. Over the next few weeks， things continued to unravel（走向失败）at the Rantz house on Silberhorn Road. A week after the financial crash， wild dogs began to appear daily on the farm. Dozens of families had simply walked away from their homes and farms in Sequim that fall， many leaving dogs behind to fend for（照料）themselves. Now packs of them began chasing the cows all over the Rantz property， relentlessly（无情地）nipping at（紧追猛咬）their legs. The bellowing（吼叫的）， distressed cows lumbered（缓慢地移动）among the stumps until they were exhausted and stopped giving the milk that was the farm’s principal cash product. Two weeks later， minks（貂）stole into the henhouse and slaughtered（屠杀）dozens of chickens， leaving their bloody corpses piled up in the corners. A few nights later， they did it again， almost as if for sport， and now the egg money dwindled（减少）away.
Rain was still pounding the roof of the half-finished house in Sequim when Joe woke up the next morning. A wind had come up during the night， and it moaned（发出萧萧声）in the tops of the fir trees（冷杉）behind the house. Joe lay in bed for a long time， listening， remembering the days he had spent lying in bed in his aunt’s attic（阁楼）in Pennsylvania listening to the mournful（悲伤的）sound of trains in the distance， with fear and aloneness weighting on him， pressing down on his chest， pushing him into the mattress（床垫）. The feeling was back. He did not want to get up， did not really care if he ever got up.
Finally， though， he did get up. He made a fire in the woodstove， put water on to boil， fried some bacon， and made some coffee. Very slowly， as he ate the bacon and the coffee cleared his mind， the spinning（旋转，指胡思乱想）in his head began to diminish（减弱）and he found himself creeping up（慢慢爬上）on a new realization. He opened his eyes and seized it， took it in， comprehended it all at once， and found that it came accompanied by a fierce determination， a sense of rising resolution. He was sick and tired of finding himself in this position—scared and hurt and abandoned and endlessly asking himself why. Whatever else came his way， he wasn’t going to let anything like this happen again. From now on， he would make his own way， find his own route to happiness， as his father had said. He’d prove to his father and to himself that he could do it. He wouldn’t become a hermit（隐居者）. He like other people too much for that， and friends could help push away the loneliness. He would never again let himself depend on them， though， nor on his family， nor on anyone else， for his sense of who he was. He would survive， and he would do it on his own. The smell and taste of the bacon had stimulated his appetite mightily（强烈地）， and he was still hungry. He got up and rummaged（翻找）through the kitchen to take inventory（实地清点盘存）. There wasn’t much to be found—a few boxes of oatmeal（燕麦片）， a jar of pickles（酱菜）， some eggs from the chickens that had survived the mink attacks， a half a head of cabbage and some bologna（一种大腊肠）in the icebox. Not much for a fifteen-year-old boy already approaching six feet.
He made some oatmeal and sat back down to think further. His father had always taught him that there was a solution to every problem. But he had always stressed that sometimes the solution wasn’t where people would ordinarily expect it to be， that you might have to look in unexpected places and think in new and creative ways to find the answers you were looking for. He remembered the mushrooms on the rotten logs（木头）in Boulder City. He could survive on his own， he figured， if he just kept his wits about him， if he kept his eyes open for opportunities， and if he didn’t allow his life to be dictated（支配）by other people’s notions of what he should do.
Over the next few weeks and months， Joe began to learn to fend entirely for himself. He drove iron stakes（桩）into the ground to fortify（加固）the chicken coop（鸡窝）against future mink attacks and treasured the few eggs he gathered every morning. He foraged（搜寻）in the dripping woods for mushrooms， and with all the recent rain he found basketfuls of them—beautiful， fluted（有凹槽的）， orange chanterelles（鸡油菌）and fat， meaty king boletes（牛肝菌）that he fried in some bacon grease（油脂）Thula had save in a tin can. He gathered the last of the autumn’s blackberries， netted the last of the fish from the pool behind the waterwheel（水轮）， picked watercress（西洋菜）and added the berries and made salads of them.
Berries and watercress would only go so far， though. It was clear that he was going to need some money in his pocket. He drove downtown in the old Franklin his father had left behind and parked on Washington Street， where he sat on the hood（汽车引擎盖）and played his banjo（班卓琴）and sang， hoping for spare change（零钱）. He soon found that there was no such thing as spare change in 1929.
The crash had started on Wall Street， but it quickly brought down communities from coast to coast. Downtown Sequim was desolate（荒凉的）. The State Bank of Sequim was still afloat but would fail within months. More and more storefronts（店面）were boarded up（用木板围住）every day.
Joe dug deeper into his imagination. Months before， he and his friend Harry Secor had discovered a spot on the Dungeness River where huge Chinook salmon（大鳞大麻哈鱼）—some as much as four feet long—lay in a deep， green， swirling pool， waiting to spawn（产卵）. Joe found a gaff hook（鱼钩）in the barn（仓库）and began to carry it secreted（隐藏）in his pocket. Joe feasted on（尽情享用）salmon that night， alone in the house. Then he set about turning the poaching（偷猎）of salmon into a business. Each Saturday afternoon Joe hiked the three miles into town with one of more of the enormous salmon slung（吊挂）over his shoulder on a willow switch（柳条）， their tails dragging in the dust behind him. He delivered his catch to the back door of Lehman’s Meat Market and to the back doors of various households around Sequim， where he sold them for cash or bartered（物物交换）them for butter or meat or gas for Franklin or whatever else he needed that week， solemnly and good-naturedly assuring his customers that， yes， indeed， he had caught the fish on a hook and line， fair and square（光明正大地）.
Later that winter he found another entrepreneurial（中间商的）opportunity. With Prohibition（禁酒令）in full swing（全面展开）and Canada just fifteen miles across the Strait of Jan de Fuca， Sequim was a lively port of entry for hard spirits（烈性酒）of all sorts. Much of it made its way to the speakeasies（尤指美国禁酒时期的非法酒吧）of Seattle， but one bootlegger（非法造酒者）specialized in local customers. Byron Noble roared into the outskirts of town every Friday night in a long， sleek（造型优美的）black Chrysler， depositing hip flasks（扁平随身酒壶）full of gin， rum， or whisky behind particular fence posts（栅栏杆）where his customers knew to look for them. Soon Joe and Harry Secor also knew where to look for them.
In all of this Joe grew continually stronger and ever more self-reliant. Through it all he stayed in school and earned good grades. At the end of the day， though， he remained stoically（恬淡寡欲地）alone， returning each night to the empty， half-finished house. He ate solitary meals， sitting at one end of the large dining table where his family had previously gathered for boisterous（热闹的）dinners. Each night he washed the one plate he used and wiped it dry and set it back in its place on top of the stack of dishes Thula had left behind in a kitchen cabinet. He sat down at his mother’s old piano in the front room and plinked（敲出叮铃声）at the keys and floated simple melodies through the dark， empty spaces of the house. He sat on the front steps and played his banjo and sang quietly to himself.
主人公乔伊和他的队友几乎全部来自社会底层，而且当时的美国正值经济大萧条时期。五岁时乔伊就失去了亲生母亲，因受后妈的排挤，10岁的乔伊多次被家人寄居于他人家中，15岁开始就被迫独自生活，有时靠采野菜捕鱼虾果腹。为了养活自己他还干过各种超强度的体力活，因此也练就了强壮的体魄和惊人的毅力，以及对团队的强烈归属感。
So began Joe’s life in exile（背井离乡）. Thula would no longer cook for him， so every morning before school and again every evening he trudged（跋涉）down the wagon road（马车道）to the cookhouse at the bottom of the mountain to work for the company cook， Mother Cleveland， in exchange for breakfast and dinner. His job was to carry heavy trays of food—plates heaped up（堆起来）high with hotcakes and bacon in the morning and with slabs（厚片）of meat and steaming potatoes in the evenings—from the cookhouse to the adjoining（比邻的）dining hall， where miners and sawyers（矿工和锯木工）in dirty overalls（工作服）sat at long tables covered with white butcher paper， talking loudly and eating ravenously（贪婪地，狼吞虎咽地）. As the men finished their meals， Joe hauled（拖，拉）their dirty dishes back to the cookhouse. In the evenings he trudged back up the mountain to the schoolhouse to chop more wood， do his schoolwork， and sleep as best he could.
He fed himself and made his way， but his world had grown dark， narrow， and lonely. There were no boys his age whom he could befriend in the camp. His closest companions—his only companions since moving to Boulder City—had always been his father and Harry Junior. Now living in the schoolhouse， he pined for（渴望，思念）the times when the three of them had formed a kind of confederation（同盟）of resistance to Thula’s increasing sourness（乖僻）， sneaking out behind the cabin（从船舱后偷偷溜走）to toss a ball（投球）around among the pine trees（松树）or to roughhouse（斗殴）in the dust， or sitting at the piano， pounding out（连续猛击）their favorite songs whenever she was safely out of earshot（听不见）.
One autumn day the schoolteacher took Joe and the rest of his students on a natural-history field trip into the woods. He led them to an old， rotten stump（树桩）on which a large white fungus（银耳）was growing—a rounded， convoluted（盘绕的）mass of creamy folds and wrinkles. The teacher plucked（拔除）the fungus off the stump， held it aloft（在……上面）， and proclaimed（宣布）it a cauliflower mushroom（花椰菜菇）， Sparassis（甘蓝菌属）radicata（毛头乳菇）. Not only was it edible（可食用的）， the teacher exclaimed， but it was delicious when stewed（炖）slowly. The revelation（出乎意料的事，启示）that one could find free food just sitting on a stump in the woods landed on Joe like a thunderbolt（雷电，霹雳）. That night he lay in his bunk（床铺）in the schoolhouse， staring into the dark rafters（椽）above， thinking. There seemed to be more than a schoolroom science lesson in the discovery of the fungus. If you simply kept your eyes open， it seemed， you just might find something valuable in the most unlikely of places. The trick was to recognized a good thing when you saw it， no matter how odd or worthless it might at first appear， no matter who else might just walk away and leave it behind. Over the next few weeks， things continued to unravel（走向失败）at the Rantz house on Silberhorn Road. A week after the financial crash， wild dogs began to appear daily on the farm. Dozens of families had simply walked away from their homes and farms in Sequim that fall， many leaving dogs behind to fend for（照料）themselves. Now packs of them began chasing the cows all over the Rantz property， relentlessly（无情地）nipping at（紧追猛咬）their legs. The bellowing（吼叫的）， distressed cows lumbered（缓慢地移动）among the stumps until they were exhausted and stopped giving the milk that was the farm’s principal cash product. Two weeks later， minks（貂）stole into the henhouse and slaughtered（屠杀）dozens of chickens， leaving their bloody corpses piled up in the corners. A few nights later， they did it again， almost as if for sport， and now the egg money dwindled（减少）away.
Rain was still pounding the roof of the half-finished house in Sequim when Joe woke up the next morning. A wind had come up during the night， and it moaned（发出萧萧声）in the tops of the fir trees（冷杉）behind the house. Joe lay in bed for a long time， listening， remembering the days he had spent lying in bed in his aunt’s attic（阁楼）in Pennsylvania listening to the mournful（悲伤的）sound of trains in the distance， with fear and aloneness weighting on him， pressing down on his chest， pushing him into the mattress（床垫）. The feeling was back. He did not want to get up， did not really care if he ever got up.
Finally， though， he did get up. He made a fire in the woodstove， put water on to boil， fried some bacon， and made some coffee. Very slowly， as he ate the bacon and the coffee cleared his mind， the spinning（旋转，指胡思乱想）in his head began to diminish（减弱）and he found himself creeping up（慢慢爬上）on a new realization. He opened his eyes and seized it， took it in， comprehended it all at once， and found that it came accompanied by a fierce determination， a sense of rising resolution. He was sick and tired of finding himself in this position—scared and hurt and abandoned and endlessly asking himself why. Whatever else came his way， he wasn’t going to let anything like this happen again. From now on， he would make his own way， find his own route to happiness， as his father had said. He’d prove to his father and to himself that he could do it. He wouldn’t become a hermit（隐居者）. He like other people too much for that， and friends could help push away the loneliness. He would never again let himself depend on them， though， nor on his family， nor on anyone else， for his sense of who he was. He would survive， and he would do it on his own. The smell and taste of the bacon had stimulated his appetite mightily（强烈地）， and he was still hungry. He got up and rummaged（翻找）through the kitchen to take inventory（实地清点盘存）. There wasn’t much to be found—a few boxes of oatmeal（燕麦片）， a jar of pickles（酱菜）， some eggs from the chickens that had survived the mink attacks， a half a head of cabbage and some bologna（一种大腊肠）in the icebox. Not much for a fifteen-year-old boy already approaching six feet.
He made some oatmeal and sat back down to think further. His father had always taught him that there was a solution to every problem. But he had always stressed that sometimes the solution wasn’t where people would ordinarily expect it to be， that you might have to look in unexpected places and think in new and creative ways to find the answers you were looking for. He remembered the mushrooms on the rotten logs（木头）in Boulder City. He could survive on his own， he figured， if he just kept his wits about him， if he kept his eyes open for opportunities， and if he didn’t allow his life to be dictated（支配）by other people’s notions of what he should do.
Over the next few weeks and months， Joe began to learn to fend entirely for himself. He drove iron stakes（桩）into the ground to fortify（加固）the chicken coop（鸡窝）against future mink attacks and treasured the few eggs he gathered every morning. He foraged（搜寻）in the dripping woods for mushrooms， and with all the recent rain he found basketfuls of them—beautiful， fluted（有凹槽的）， orange chanterelles（鸡油菌）and fat， meaty king boletes（牛肝菌）that he fried in some bacon grease（油脂）Thula had save in a tin can. He gathered the last of the autumn’s blackberries， netted the last of the fish from the pool behind the waterwheel（水轮）， picked watercress（西洋菜）and added the berries and made salads of them.
Berries and watercress would only go so far， though. It was clear that he was going to need some money in his pocket. He drove downtown in the old Franklin his father had left behind and parked on Washington Street， where he sat on the hood（汽车引擎盖）and played his banjo（班卓琴）and sang， hoping for spare change（零钱）. He soon found that there was no such thing as spare change in 1929.
The crash had started on Wall Street， but it quickly brought down communities from coast to coast. Downtown Sequim was desolate（荒凉的）. The State Bank of Sequim was still afloat but would fail within months. More and more storefronts（店面）were boarded up（用木板围住）every day.
Joe dug deeper into his imagination. Months before， he and his friend Harry Secor had discovered a spot on the Dungeness River where huge Chinook salmon（大鳞大麻哈鱼）—some as much as four feet long—lay in a deep， green， swirling pool， waiting to spawn（产卵）. Joe found a gaff hook（鱼钩）in the barn（仓库）and began to carry it secreted（隐藏）in his pocket. Joe feasted on（尽情享用）salmon that night， alone in the house. Then he set about turning the poaching（偷猎）of salmon into a business. Each Saturday afternoon Joe hiked the three miles into town with one of more of the enormous salmon slung（吊挂）over his shoulder on a willow switch（柳条）， their tails dragging in the dust behind him. He delivered his catch to the back door of Lehman’s Meat Market and to the back doors of various households around Sequim， where he sold them for cash or bartered（物物交换）them for butter or meat or gas for Franklin or whatever else he needed that week， solemnly and good-naturedly assuring his customers that， yes， indeed， he had caught the fish on a hook and line， fair and square（光明正大地）.
Later that winter he found another entrepreneurial（中间商的）opportunity. With Prohibition（禁酒令）in full swing（全面展开）and Canada just fifteen miles across the Strait of Jan de Fuca， Sequim was a lively port of entry for hard spirits（烈性酒）of all sorts. Much of it made its way to the speakeasies（尤指美国禁酒时期的非法酒吧）of Seattle， but one bootlegger（非法造酒者）specialized in local customers. Byron Noble roared into the outskirts of town every Friday night in a long， sleek（造型优美的）black Chrysler， depositing hip flasks（扁平随身酒壶）full of gin， rum， or whisky behind particular fence posts（栅栏杆）where his customers knew to look for them. Soon Joe and Harry Secor also knew where to look for them.
In all of this Joe grew continually stronger and ever more self-reliant. Through it all he stayed in school and earned good grades. At the end of the day， though， he remained stoically（恬淡寡欲地）alone， returning each night to the empty， half-finished house. He ate solitary meals， sitting at one end of the large dining table where his family had previously gathered for boisterous（热闹的）dinners. Each night he washed the one plate he used and wiped it dry and set it back in its place on top of the stack of dishes Thula had left behind in a kitchen cabinet. He sat down at his mother’s old piano in the front room and plinked（敲出叮铃声）at the keys and floated simple melodies through the dark， empty spaces of the house. He sat on the front steps and played his banjo and sang quietly to himself.