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Часть текста: предавались воспоминаниям о своих прошлых увлечениях, скрашивавших их прогулки по берегам Невы в 1820-м (см. «Путешествие Онегина», коммент. к гл. 8, рукопись, XXX) По ходу романа Пушкин приводит образчики сочинений всех троих главных персонажей: письмо Татьяны, последнюю элегию Ленского и письмо Онегина. 2 Его я свято берегу… — В переводе этого места на английский мне помогло французское выражение «je la conserve religieusement». 5—6 Кто ей внушал и эту нежность, / И слов любезную небрежность? — Ответ: Парни. См., например, его выражение в стихотворении «Следующий день» («Le Lendemain» m «Poésies érotiques», bk. I): Et ion âme plus attendrie S'abandonne nonchalamment Au délicieux sentiment D'une douce mélancolie что буквально переводится на язык русского романтика: «и умиленная душа предается небрежно сладостному чувству грусти нежной». 6 …любезную небрежность… — Галлицизм, aimable abandon. 7 …вздор… — В издании 1837 г. допущена опечатка: «взор». 13 … Фрейшиц… — Ссылка на увертюру «Вольного стрелка» ( нем. «Der Freischütz», фр. «Le Franc Archer», «Седьмая пуля» или «Волшебный стрелок»), романтической оперы Карла Марии фон Вебера (1786–1826), впервые поставленной в Берлине 18 июня 1821 г., в Париже — 7 декабря 1824 г. (под...
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Часть текста: Кто ей внушалъ умильный взоръ, 8 Безумный сердца разговоръ И увлекательный, и вредный? Я не могу понять. Но вотъ Неполный, слабый переводъ, 12 Съ живой картины списокъ бледный, Или разыгранный Фрейшицъ Перстами робкихъ ученицъ: 1 Письмо Татьяны предо мною. В руках Пушкина, становящегося персонажем романа, оно могло оказаться, допустим, по той причине, что Онегин переписал его для поэта в Одессе, когда в 1823–24 г. они вновь принялись за воспоминания о своих былых романах, так скрашивавшие их прогулки по набережной Невы в 1820 г. (см. «Путешествие Онегина», коммент. к главе Восьмой, рукопись, строфа XXX). В своем романе Пушкин приводит тексты трех главных персонажей: письмо Татьяны, последнюю элегию Ленского и письмо Онегина. 2 Его я свято берегу. Ср. французское ходовое выражение «je la conserve religieusement». 5–6 Кто ей внушал и эту нежность, / И слов любезную небрежность? Ответ: Парни. См., например, его «Завтрашний день» («Эротические стихотворения», кн. 1): Et ton âme plus attendrie, S'abandonne nonchalamment Au délicieux sentiment D'une douce mélancholie, что само собой перелагается романтическими русскими фразами: «И умиленная душа предается небрежно сладостному чувству грусти нежной». 6 любезную небрежность. Галлицизм «aimable abandon». 7 вздор. В издании 1837 г. опечатка — «взор». 13 Фрейшиц. Подразумевается увертюра к «Der Freishütz» («Le Franc Archer», «Седьмая пуля», «Волшебный стрелок»), романтической опере Карла Марии фон Вебера (1786–1826), в первый раз исполненной в Берлине 18 июня 1821 г., а в Париже — 7 дек. 1824 г. (под названием «Робин, лесной стрелок»). Демон, обитающий в лесу, дает стрелку волшебные пули. Злодей, которого зовут Каспар, запродался этому демону, причем ...
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Часть текста: to meet, proved on the whole disappointing. There was Opal Something, and Linda Hall, and Avis Chapman, and Eva Rosen, and Mona Dahl (save one, all these names are approximations, of course). Opal was a bashful, formless, bespectacled, bepimpled creature who doted on Dolly who bullied her. With Linda Hall the school tennis champion, Dolly played singles at least twice a week: I suspect Linda was a true nymphet, but for some unknown reason she did not comewas perhaps not allowed to cometo our house; so I recall her only as a flash of natural sunshine on an indoor court. Of the rest, none had any claims to nymphetry except Eva Rosen. Avis ws a plump lateral child with hairy legs, while Mona, though handsome in a coarse sensual way and only a year older than my aging mistress, had obviously long ceased to be a nymphet, if she ever had been one. Eva Rosen, a displaced little person from France, was on the other hand a good example of a not strikingly beautiful child revealing to the perspicacious amateur some of the basic elements of nymphet charm, such as a perfect pubescent figure and lingering eyes and high cheekbones. Her glossy copper hair had Lolita’s silkiness, and the features of her delicate milky-white face with pink lips and silverfish eyelashes were less foxy than those of her likesthe great clan of intra-racial redheads; nor did she sport their green uniform but wore, as I remember her, a lot of black or cherry darka very smart black pullover, for instance, and high-heeled black shoes, and garnet-red fingernail polish. I spoke French to her (much to Lo’s disgust). The child’s tonalities were still admirably pure, but for school words and play words she resorted to current American and then a slight Brooklyn accent would crop up in her speech, which was amusing in a little Parisian who went to a select New England school with...
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Часть текста: akin to plain repulsion. Never did she vibrate under my touch, and a strident “what d’you think you are doing?” was all I got for my pains. To the wonderland I had to offer, my fool preferred the corniest movies, the most cloying fudge. To think that between a Hamburger and a Humburger, she wouldinvariably, with icy precisionplump for the former. There is nothing more atrociously cruel than an adored child. Did I mention the name of that milk bar I visited a moment ago? It was, of all things, The Frigid Queen. Smiling a little sadly, I dubbed her My Frigid Princess. She did not see the wistful joke. Oh, d not scowl at me, reader, I do not intend to convey the impressin that I did not manage to be happy. Readeer must understand that in the possession and thralldom of a nymphet the enchanted traveler stands, as it were, beyond happiness. For there is no other bliss on earth comparable to that of fondling a nymphet. It is hors concours , that bliss, it belongs to another class, another plane of sensitivity. Despite our tiffs, despite her nastiness, despite all the fuss and faces she made, and the vulgarity, and the danger, and the horrible hopelessness of it all, I still dwelled deep in my elected paradisea paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flamesbut still a paradise. The able psychiatrist who studies my caseand whom by now Dr. Humbert has plunged, I trust, into a state of leporine fascinationis no doubt anxious to have me take Lolita to the seaside and have me find there, at last, the “gratification” of a lifetime urge, and release from the “subconscious” obsession of an incomplete childhood romance with the initial little Miss Lee. Well, comrade, let me tell you that I did look for a beach, though I also have to confess that by the time we reached its mirage of gray water, so many delights had already been granted me by my...
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Часть текста: wood, became forthwith the weighty sesame to a rapturous and formidable future. It was mine, it was part of my hot hairy fist. In a few minutessay, twenty, say half-an-hour, sicher its sicher as my uncle Gustave used to sayI would let myself into that “342” and find my nymphet, my beauty and bride, imprisoned in her crystal sleep. Jurors! If my happiness could have talked, it would have filled that genteel hotel with a deafening roar. And my only regret today is that I did not quietly deposit key “342” at the office, and leave the town, the country, the continent, the hemisphere,indeed, the globethat very same night. Let me explain. I was not unduly disturbed by her self-accusatory innuendoes. I was still firmly resolved to pursue my policy of sparing her purity by operating only in the stealth of night, only upon a completely anesthetized little nude. Restraint and reverence were still my motto-even if that “purity” (incidentally, thoroughly debunked by modern science) had been slightly damaged through some juvenile erotic experience, no doubt homosexual, at that accursed camp of hers. Of course, in my old-fashioned, old-world way, I, Jean-Jacques Humbert, had taken for granted, when I first met her, that she was as unravished as the stereotypical notion of “normal child” had been since the lamented end of the Ancient World B. C. and its fascinating practices. We are not surrounded in our enlighted era by little slave flowers that can be casually plucked between business and bath ...
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Часть текста: Следующая попытка была более удачной: замшевого, с цепкими лапками сфинкса мать усыпила при помощи эфира, а потом научила Володю расправлять бабочек 2 . То, что началось как страсть или колдовство, было — по объяснению самого Набокова — семейной традицией: «В нашем деревенском доме была волшебная комната, где хранилась отцовская коллекция — старые, поблекшие бабочки его детства, невыразимо дорогие мне» 3 . В. Д. Набоков, как и трое его братьев, заразился этим «вирусом» от немца-гувернера, и, хотя Владимир Дмитриевич больше не охотился на бабочек, его сын вспоминал, как столь невозмутимый отец вдруг с искаженным лицом врывался ко мне в комнату с веранды, хватал сачок и кидался обратно в сад, чтоб минут десять спустя вернуться с продолжительным стоном на «Аааа» — упустил дивного эль-альбума! 4 В «Даре» отец героя — это с любовью выписанный портрет В. Д. Набокова, поразивший Елену Ивановну точностью и глубиной 5 . Стержень романа — восхищение героя своим отцом и желание воскресить его в своих воспоминаниях, причем отец его, по замыслу автора, — выдающийся ученый-лепидоптеролог. Если Владимир Дмитриевич в молодости гонялся за бабочками, то Елена Ивановна, уже став матерью, изо дня в день бродила по окрестностям Выры в поисках желанной добычи — боровиков, подберезовиков, подосиновиков. В автобиографии Набоков намеренно связывает эту ее страсть со своей, которая очень быстро прогрессировала, ибо была наследственной и по материнской, и по отцовской...
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Часть текста: high repute among the literary cognoscenti-- which you bad enjoyed for more than 30 years-- to both acclaim and abuse as the world-renowned author of a sensational bestseller. In the aftermath of this cause celebre, do you ever regret having written Lolita? On the contrary, I shudder retrospectively when I recall that there was a moment, in 1950, and again in 1951, when I was on the point of burning Humbert Humbert's little black diary. No, I shall never regret Lolita. She was like the composition of a beautiful puzzle-- its composition and its solution at the same time, since one is a mirror view of the other, depending on the way you look. Of course she completely eclipsed my other works-- at least those I wrote in English: The Real Life of Sebastian Knight, Bend Sinister, my short stories, my book of recollections; but I cannot grudge her this. There is a queer, tender charm about that mythical nymphet. Though many readers and reviewers would disagree that her charm is tender, few would deny that it is queer-- so much so that when director Stanley Kubrick proposed his plan to make a movie of Lolita, you were quoted as saying, "Of course they'll have to change the plot. Perhaps they will make Lolita a dwarfess. Or they will make her 16 and Humbert 26. " Though you finally wrote the screenplay yourself, several reviewers took the film to task for watering down the central relationship. Were you satisfied with the final product? I thought the movie was absolutely first-rate. The four main actors deserve the very highest praise. Sue Lyon bringing that breakfast tray or childishly pulling on her sweater in the car-- these are moments of unforgettable acting and directing. The killing of Quilty is a masterpiece, and so is the death of Mrs. Haze. I must point out, though, that I had nothing to do with the actual production. If I had, I might have insisted on stressing certain things that were not...
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Часть текста: to be the last of twenty entries or so. It will be seem from them that for all the devil’s inventiveness, the scheme remained daily the same. First he would tempt meand then thwart me, leaving me with a dull pain in the very root of my being. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and how to do it, without impinging on a child’s chastity; after all, I had had some experience in my life of pederosis; had visually possessed dappled nymphets in parks; had wedged my wary and bestial way into the hottest, most crowded corner of a city bus full of straphanging school children. But for almost three weeks I had been interrupted in all my pathetic machinations. The agent of these interruptions was usually the Haze woman (who, as the reader will mark, was more afraid of Lo’s deriving some pleasure from me than of my enjoying Lo). The passion I had developed for that nymphetfor the first nymphet in my life that could be reached at last by my awkward, aching, timid clawswould have certainly landed me again in a sanatorium, had not the devil realized that I was to be granted...
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Часть текста: Rug-heap, car, old man-doll, Miss O.’s nurse running with a rustle, a half-empty tumbler in her hand, back to the screened porchwhere the propped-up, imprisoned, decrepit lady herself may be imagined screeching, but not loud enough to drown the rhythmical yaps of the Junk setter walking from group to groupfrom a bunch of neighbors already collected on the sidewalk, near the bit of checked stuff, and back to the car which he had finally run to earth, and then to another group on the lawn, consisting of Leslie, two policemen and a sturdy man with tortoise shell glasses. At this point, I should explain that the prompt appearance of the patrolmen, hardly more than a minute after the accident, was due to their having been ticketing the illegally parked cars in a cross lane two blocks down the grade; that the fellow with the glasses was Frederick Beale, Jr., driver of the Packard; that his 79-year-old father, whom the nurse had just watered on the green bank where he laya banked banker so to speakwas not in a dead faint, but was comfortably and methodically recovering from a mild heart attack or its possibility; and, finally, that the laprobe on the sidewalk (where she had so often pointed out to me with disapproval the crooked green cracks) concealed the mangled remains of Charlotte Humbert who had been knocked down and dragged several feet by the Beale car as she was hurrying across the street to drop three letters...
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Часть текста: more dimensions, and in the end of his life he became the Eccentric Writer, one who avoided publicity at all costs (even declining election to the National Institute of Arts and Letters), preferring a quiet life engaging in creation and Lepidoptera. Born on, or about, April 23, 1899 in St. Petersburg, Russia, Nabokov's childhood was spent in storybook fashion. The oldest of five children , he grew up in a wealthy and aristocratic family, shuttling between the family's two homes (one in St. Petersburg , and the other - an estate - 50 miles south in the countryside). He enjoyed playing tennis and soccer, but spent hours at a time embroiled in his passion - chasing and collecting butterflies, a hobby he apparently learned from his father . At the time, Russia was under the rule of Tsar Nicholas II, and Nabokov's father, Vladimir Dmitrievich Nabokov , was a respected (and to authorities, controversial) liberal politician. In fact, the elder Nabokov was imprisoned for 90 days in 1908 for signing a political manifesto. Nabokov's mother, Elena Ivanova , raised her three boys and two girls with the help of several governesses and tutors who taught the Nabokov children French and English, along with Russian. At the highly regarded Tenishev School, which Nabokov began attending in 1911, he was described as an aloof, even conceited, student who arrived each day in the family's Rolls-Royce. But Nabokov's dreamy childhood would receive a wake-up call with the Bolshevik revolution and the abdication of Tsar Nicholas II. Rioting forced his family to move, eventually, to England in 1919 where Nabokov and his brother enrolled in Cambridge . Nabokov majored in French and Russian literature. Nabokov in ...