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А Б В Г Д Е Ж З И Й К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Э Ю Я
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
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1. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 1 - 2
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2. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 1 - 8
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3. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 3 - 8
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4. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 32 - 36
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5. Эссе о драматургии ("Playwriting", на английском языке)
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6. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 17 - 21
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7. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 23 - 27
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8. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter two
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9. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter five
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10. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 9 - 11
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11. Вне Лолиты: Вновь открывая Набокова. (Проект CNN, 1999 г.). The Man
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12. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. Vogue, 1972 г.
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13. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter six
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14. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. Wisconsin Studies, 1967 г.
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15. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 28 - 33
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16. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 9 - 16
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17. Anniversary notes
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18. The Man of To-morrow’s Lament (Жалобная песнь Супермена)
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19. Брайан Бойд. Владимир Набоков: русские годы. Глава 8. Превращение в Сирина: Кембридж, 1919–1922
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20. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. Time, 1969 г.
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21. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Notes to Eugene Onegin
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22. Inspiration
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23. Федотов О.И.: Между Моцартом и Сальери (о поэтическом даре Набокова). 1.9. Америка. Попытка обрести новую родину
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24. Джонсон Дональд Б.: Лабиринт инцеста в "Аде" Набокова
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25. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 12 - 17
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26. Долинин Александр: Комментарий к роману Владимира Набокова «Дар». Глава пятая
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27. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. BBC-2, 1968 г.
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28. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. The Paris Review, 1967 г.
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29. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 22 - 26
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30. Бартон Д.Д.: Миры и антимиры Владимира Набокова. Часть IV. Набоков — создатель лабиринтов
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31. The Song of Igor's Campaign, Igor son of Svyatoslav and grandson of Oleg (перевод Набокова)
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32. Вне Лолиты: Вновь открывая Набокова. (Проект CNN, 1999 г.). Nabokov's Pictorial Biography
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33. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter seven
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34. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. The New York Times, 1971 г.
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35. Розенгрант Дж.: Владимир Набоков и этика изображения. Двуязычная практика
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36. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter three
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37. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter one
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38. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. BBC Television, 1962 г.
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39. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 18 - 22
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1. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 1 - 2
Входимость: 13. Размер: 49кб.
Часть текста: and every now and then I would take a bed-and-cot or twin-bed cabin, a prison cell or paradise, with yellow window shades pulled down to create a morning illusion of Venice and sunshine when actually it was Pennsylvania and rain. We came to know nous connmes,   to use a Flaubertian intonationthe stone cottages under enormous Chateaubriandesque trees, the brick unit, the adobe unit, the stucco court, on what the Tour Book of the Automobile Association describes as “shaded” or “spacious” or “landscaped” grounds. The log kind, finished in knotty pine, reminded Lo, by its golden-brown glaze, of friend-chicken bones. We held in contempt the plain whitewashed clapboard Kabins, with their faint sewerish smell or some other gloomy self-conscious stench and nothing to boast of (except “good beds”), and an unsmiling landlady always prepared to have her gift (“…well, I could give you…”) turned down. Nous connmes   (this is royal fun) the would-be enticements of their repetitious namesall those Sunset Motels, U-Beam Cottages, Hillcrest Courts, Pine View Courts, Mountain View Courts, Skyline Courts, Park Plaza Courts, Green Acres, Mac’s Courts. There was sometimes a special line in the write-up, such as “Children welcome, pets allowed” ( You   are welcome, you   are allowed). The baths were mostly tiled showers, with an endless variety of spouting mechanisms, but with one definitely non-Laodicean characteristic in common, a propensity, while in use, to turn instantly beastly hot or blindingly cold upon you, depending on whether your neighbor turned on his cold or his hot to deprive you of a necessary complement in the shower you had so carefully blended. Some motels had instructions pasted above the toilet (on...
2. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 1 - 8
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Часть текста: soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, a certain initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns. 2 I was born in 1910, in Paris. My father was a gentle, easy-going person, a salad of racial genes: a Swiss citizen, of mixed French and Austrian descent, with a dash of the Danube in his veins. I am going to pass around in a minute some lovely, glossy-blue picture-postcards. He owned a luxurious hotel on the Riviera. His father and two grandfathers had sold wine, jewels and silk, respectively. At thirty he married an English girl, daughter of Jerome Dunn, the alpinist, and granddaughter of two Dorset parsons, experts in obscure subjectspaleopedology and Aeolian harps, respectively. My very photogenic mother died in a freak accident (picnic, lightning) when I was three, and, save for a pocket of warmth in the darkest past, nothing of her subsists within the hollows and dells of memory, over which, if you can still stand my style (I am writing under observation), the sun of my infancy had set: surely, you all know those redolent remnants of day suspended, with the midges, about some hedge in bloom or suddenly entered and traversed by the...
3. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 3 - 8
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Часть текста: 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 traveling companion that the search for a Kingdom by the Sea, a Sublimated Riviera, or whatnot, far from being the impulse of the subconscious, had become the rational pursuit of a purely theoretical thrill. The angels knew it, and arranged things accordingly. A visit to a plausible cove on the Atlantic side was completely messed up by...
4. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 32 - 36
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Часть текста: and door ajar, a look on her face… that look I cannot exactly describe… an expression of helplessness so perfect that it seemed to grade into one of rather comfortable inanity just because this was the very limit of injustice and frustrationand every limit presupposes something beyond ithence the neutral illumination. And when you bear in mind that these were the raised eyebrows and parted lips of a child, you may better appreciate what depths of calculated carnality, what reflected despair, restrained me from falling at her dear feet and dissolving in human tears, and sacrificing my jealousy to whatever pleasure Lolita might hope to derive from mixing with dirty and dangerous children in an outside world that was real to her. And I have still other smothered memories, now unfolding themselves into limbless monsters of pain. Once, in a sunset-ending street of Beardsley, she turned to little Eva Rosen (I was taking both nymphets to a concert and walking behind them so close as almost to touch them with my person), she turned to Eva, and so very serenely and seriously, in answer to something the other had said about its being better to die than hear Milton Pinski, some local schoolboy she knew, talk about music, my Lolita remarked: “You know, what’s so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own”; and it struck me, as my automaton knees went up and down, that I simply did not know a thing about my darling’s mind and that quite possibly, behind the awful juvenile clichs, there was in her a...
5. Эссе о драматургии ("Playwriting", на английском языке)
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Часть текста: two lectures presented here have been selected to accompany Nabokov's plays because they embody, in concentrated form, many of his principal guidelines for writing, reading, and performing plays. The reader is urged to bear in mind, however, that, later in life, Father might have expressed certain thoughts differently. The lectures were partly in typescript and partly in manuscript, replete with Nabokov's corrections, additions, deletions, occasional slips of the pen, and references to previous and subsequent installments of the course. I have limited myself to what editing seemed necessary for the presentation of the lectures in essay form. If Nabokov had been alive, he might perhaps have performed more radical surgery. He might also have added that the gruesome throes of realistic suicide he finds unacceptable onstage (in "The Tragedy of Tragedy") are now everyday fare on kiddies' TV, while "adult" entertainment has long since outdone all the goriness of the Grand Guignol. He might have observed that the aberrations of theatrical method wherein the illusion of a barrier between stage and audience is shattered - a phenomenon he considered "freakish" - are now commonplace: actors...
6. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 17 - 21
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Часть текста: fate in which I obscurely felt myself being enmeshed, I had decideddespite Lo’s visible annoyanceto spend another night at Chestnut Court; definitely waking up at four in the morning, I ascertained that Lo was still sound asleep (mouth open, in a kind of dull amazement at the curiously inane life we all had rigged up for her) and satisfied myself that the precious contents of the “luizetta” were safe. There, snugly wrapped in a white woolen scarf, lay a pocket automatic: caliber. 32, capacity of magazine 8 cartridges, length a little under one ninth of Lolita’s length, stock checked walnut, finish full blued. I had inherited it from the late Harold Haze, with a 1938 catalog which cheerily said in part: “Particularly well adapted for use in the home and car as well as on the person.” There it lay, ready for instant service on the person or persons, loaded and fully cocked with the slide lock in safety position, thus precluding any accidental discharge. We must remember that a pistol is the Freudian symbol of the Ur-father’s central forelimb. I was now glad I had it with meand even more glad that I had learned to use it two years before, in the pine forest around my and Charlotte’s glass lake. Farlow, with whom I had roamed those remote woods, was an admirable marksman, and with his. 38 actually managed to hit a hummingbird, though I must say not much of it could be retrieved for proofonly a little iridescent fluff. A burley ex-policeman called Krestovski, who in the twenties had shot and killed two escaped convicts, joined us and bagged a tiny woodpeckercompletely out of season, incidentally. Between those two sportsmen I of course was a novice and kept missing everything, though I did would a squirrel on a later occasion when I went out alone. “You like here,” I whispered to my light-weight compact little chum, and ...
7. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 23 - 27
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Часть текста: of the lawn-slope, an old gentleman with a white mustache, well-dresseddouble-breasted gray suit, polka-dotted bow-tielay supine, his long legs together, like a death-size wax figure. I have to put the impact of an instantaneous vision into a sequence of words; their physical accumulation in the page impairs the actual flash, the sharp unity of impression: 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...
8. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter two
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Часть текста: moped was a charming nook;   a friend of innocent delights   4  might have blessed heaven there.   The manor house, secluded,   screened from the winds by a hill, stood   above a river; in the distance,   8  before it, freaked and flowered, lay   meadows and golden grainfields;   one could glimpse hamlets here and there;   herds roamed the meadows; 12  and its dense coverts spread   a huge neglected garden, the retreat   of pensive dryads. II   The venerable castle   was built as castles should be built:   excellent strong and comfortable   4  in the taste of sensible ancientry.   Tall chambers everywhere,   hangings of damask in the drawing room,   portraits of grandsires on the walls,   8  and stoves with varicolored tiles.   All this today is obsolete,   I really don't know why;   and anyway it was a matter 12  of very little moment to my friend,   since he yawned equally amidst   modish and olden halls. III   He settled in that chamber where the rural   old-timer had for forty years or so   squabbled with his housekeeper,   4  looked through the window, and squashed flies.   It all was plain: a floor of oak, two cupboards,   a table, a divan of down,   and not an ink speck anywhere. Onegin   8  opened the cupboards; found in one   a notebook of expenses and in the other   a whole array of fruit liqueurs,   pitchers of eau-de-pomme, 12  and the calendar for eighteen-eight:   having a lot to do, the old man never   looked into any other books. IV   Alone midst his possessions,   merely to while away the time,   at first conceived the plan our Eugene   4  of instituting a new system.   In his backwoods a solitary sage,   the ancient corvée 's yoke   by the light quitrent he...
9. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter five
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Часть текста: Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin Chapter five CHAPTER FIVE Never know these frightful dreams, You, O my Svetlana! Zhukovski I   That year autumnal weather   was a long time abroad;   nature kept waiting and waiting for winter.   4  Snow only fell in January,   on the night of the second. Waking early,   Tatiana from the window saw   at morn the whitened yard,   8  flower beds, roofs, and fence;   delicate patterns on the panes;   the trees in winter silver,   gay magpies outside, 12  and the hills softly overspread   with winter's brilliant carpeting.   All's bright, all's white around. II   Winter! The peasant, celebrating,   in a flat sledge inaugurates the track;   his naggy, having sensed the snow,   4  shambles at something like a trot.   Plowing up fluffy furrows,   a bold kibitka flies:   the driver sits upon his box   8  in sheepskin coat, red-sashed.   Here runs about a household lad,   upon a hand sled having seated “blackie,”   having transformed himself into the steed; 12  the scamp already has frozen a finger.   He finds it both painful and funny — while   his mother, from the ...
10. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 9 - 11
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Часть текста: reached the States. In New York I eagerly accepted the soft job fate offered me: it consisted mainly of thinking up and editing perfume ads. I welcomed its desultory character and pseudoliterary aspects, attending to it whenever I had nothing better to do. On the other hand, I was urged by a war-time university in New York to complete my comparative history of French literature for English-speaking students. The first volume took me a couple of years during which I put in seldom less than fifteen hours of work daily. As I look back on those days, I see them divided tidily into ample light and narrow shade: the light pertaining to the solace of research in palatial libraries, the shade to my excruciating desires and insomnias of which enough has been said. Knowing me by now, the reader can easily imagine how dusty and hot I got, trying to catch a glimpse of nymphets (alas, always remote) playing in Central Park, and how repulsed I was by the glitter of deodorized career girls that a gay dog in one of the offices kept unloading upon me. Let us skip all that. A dreadful ...