Владимир Набоков: Поиск по текстам произведений автора и критике. Cлово "ISLAND". Классическая русская литература.

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Входимость: 3. Размер: 138кб.

Часть текста: романов ("Дар"), написанного в 1934–1937 годах. Ниже приводится соответствующий пассаж. "Эх, кабы у меня было времячко, я бы такой роман накатал… Из настоящей жизни. Вот представьте себе такую историю: старый пес, — но еще в соку, с огнем, с жаждой счастья, — знакомится с вдовицей, а у нее дочка, совсем еще девочка, — знаете, когда еще ничего не оформилось, а уже ходит так, что с ума сойти. Бледненькая, легонькая, под глазами синева, — и конечно на старого хрыча не смотрит. Что делать? И вот, недолго думая, он, видите ли, на вдовице женится. Хорошо-с. Вот, зажили втроем. Тут можно без конца описывать — соблазн, вечную пыточку, зуд, безумную надежду. И в общем — просчет. Время бежит-летит, он стареет, она расцветает — и ни черта. Пройдет, бывало, рядом, обожжет презрительным взглядом. А? Чувствуете трагедию Достоевского? Эта история, видите ли, произошла с одним моим большим приятелем, в некотором царстве, в некотором самоварстве, во времена царя Гороха. Каково?" — и Борис Иванович, обратя в сторону темные глаза, надул губы и издал меланхолический лопающийся звук {1}. Из-за этого Бориса и трагедии Достоевского я нахожу эксцентричное описание генезиса лучшего набоковского романа самим автором намеренно сбивающим с толку. Он пишет: Первая маленькая пульсация «Лолиты» пробежала во мне в конце 1939-го или в начале 1940-го года в Париже на рю Буало, в то время как меня пригвоздил к постели серьезный приступ межреберной невралгии. Насколько помню, начальный озноб вдохновения был каким-то образом связан с газетной статейкой ...

Входимость: 3. Размер: 53кб.

Часть текста: 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 rambler, at the bottom of a...

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Часть текста: my panic away. I remember evolving even an explanation of the “Birdsley” telephone call… But if I could dismiss Trapp, as I had dismissed my convulsions on the lawn at Champion, I could do nothing with the anguish of knowing Lolita to be so tantalizingly, so miserably unattainable and beloved on the very even of a new era, when my alembics told me she should stop being a nymphet, stop torturing me. An additional, abominable, and perfectly gratuitous worry was lovingly prepared for me in Elphinstone. Lo had been dull and silent during the last laptwo hundred mountainous miles uncontaminated by smoke-gray sleuths or zigzagging zanies. She hardly glanced at the famous, oddly shaped, splendidly flushed rock which jutted above the mountains and had been the take-off for nirvana on the part of a temperamental show girl. The town was newly built, or rebuilt, on the flat floor of a seven-thousand-foot-high valley; it would soon bore Lo, I hoped, and we would spin on to California, to the Mexican border, to mythical bays, saguaro desserts, fatamorganas. Jos Lizzarrabengoa, as you remember, planned to take his Carmen to the Etats Unis. I conjured up a Central American tennis competition in which Dolores Haze and various Californian schoolgirl champions would dazzlingly participate. Good-will tours on that smiling level eliminate the distinction between passport and sport. Why did I hope we would be happy abroad? A change of environment is the traditional fallacy upon which doomed loves, and lungs, rely. Mrs. Hays, the brisk, briskly rouged, blue-eyed widow who ran the motor court, asked me if I were Swiss perchance, because her sister had married a Swiss ski...

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Часть текста: введением в текст аллюзий на такие произведения-претексты как: - книга Л. Кэрролла «Алиса в зазеркалье» с её образом Белого шахматного рыцаря (White Knight) – аллегорического авторского двойника, - или «Медный Всадник» Пушкина, рассмотренный в контексте, или сквозь призму критических и художественных текстов Мережковского, Брюсова, Белого, представляющих эволюцию символа Медного Всадника, - или история рыцаря-безумца в «Дон Кихоте» Сервантеса. Вместе с тем, когда мы переходим к рассмотрению в произведении философского, смыслового подтекста мы видим, что в построении выразительной целостности этого совокупно-единого высказывания, вместе с «ведущей мелодией», разворачивающимся «лейтмотивом», автором задействуется целая гамма сопутствующих тематических звучаний. И в качестве поясняющей музыкальной аллегории хотел бы использовать образ симфонического звучания тем в самом романе и в актуализируемых в нем подтекстах. «Симфонического», т. е. созвучного ...

Входимость: 2. Размер: 53кб.

Часть текста: 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 breakdown sent me to a sanatorium for more than a year; I went back to my workonly to be hospitalized again. Robust outdoor life seemed to promise me some relief. One of my favorite doctors, a charming cynical chap with a little brown beard, had a brother, and this brother was about to lead an expedition into arctic Canada. I was attached to it as a “recorder of psychic reactions.” With two young botanists and an old carpenter I shared now and then (never very successfully) the favors of one of our nutritionists, a Dr. Anita Johnsonwho was soon flown back, I am glad to say. I had little notion of what object the expedition was pursuing. Judging by the number of meteorologists upon it, we may have been tracking to its lair (somewhere on Prince of Wales’ Island, I understand) the wandering and wobbly north magnetic pole. One group, jointly with the Canadians, established a weather station on Pierre Point in Melville Sound. Another group, equally misguided, collected plankton. A third studied tuberculosis in the tundra. Bert, a film photographeran insecure fellow with whom at one time I was made to partake in a good deal of menial work (he, too, had some psychic troubles)maintained that the big men on our team, the real leaders we never saw, were mainly engaged in checking the influence of climatic amelioration on the coats of the arctic fox. We lived in prefabricated timber cabins amid a Pre-Cambrian world of granite. We had heaps of suppliesthe Reader’s...

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Часть текста: by me from written cards in Montreux. The Listener published the thing in an incomplete form on October 23 of that year. Printed here from my final typescript. You have said that you explored time's prison and have found no way out. Are you still exploring, and is it inevitably a solitary excursion, from which one returns to the solace of others? I'm a very poor speaker. I hope our audience won't mind my using notes. My exploration of time's prison as described in the first chapter of Speak, Memory was only a stylistic device meant to introduce my subject. Memory often presents a life broken into episodes, more or less perfectly recalled. Do you see any themes working through from one episode to another? Everyone can sort out convenient patterns of related themes in the past development of his life. Here again I had to provide pegs and echoes when furnishing my reception halls. Is the strongest tie between men this common captivity in time? Let us not generalize. The common captivity in time is felt differently by different people, and some people may not feel it at all. Generalizations are full of loopholes and traps. I know elderly men for whom...

Входимость: 2. Размер: 59кб.

Часть текста: Nabokov gave at Stanford during the summer of 1941. We had arrived in America in May of 1940; except for some brief guest appearances, this was Father's first lecturing engagement at an American university. The Stanford course also included a discussion of some American plays, a survey of Soviet theatre, and an analysis of commentary on drama by several American critics. The 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 wander and mix; the audience is invited to participate; it is then applauded by the players in a curious reversal of roles made chic by Soviet performers ordered to emulate the mise-en-sce´ne of party congresses; and the term "happening" has already managed to grow obsolescent. He might have commented that the quest for originality for its own sake has led to...

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Часть текста: Proustian sense of places, what is there in Montreux that attracts you so? My sense of places is Nabokovian rather than Proustian. With regard to Montreux there are many attractions-- nice people, near mountains, regular mails, headquarters at a comfortable hotel. We dwell in the older part of the Palace Hotel, in its original part really, which was all that existed a hundred and fifty years ago (you can still see that initial inn and our future windows in old prints of 1840 or so). Our quarters consist of several tiny rooms with two and a half bathrooms, the result of two apartments having been recently fused. The sequence is: kitchen, living-dining room, my wife's room, my room, a former kitchenette now full of my papers, and our son's former room, now converted into a study. The apartment is! cluttered with books, folders, and files. What might be termed rather grandly a library is a back room housing my published works, and there are additional shelves in the attic whose skylight is much frequented by pigeons and Alpine choughs. I am giving this meticulous description to refute a distortion in an interview published recently in another New York magazine-- a long piece with embarrassing misquotations, wrong intonations, and false exchanges in the course of which I am made to dismiss...

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Часть текста: к объемистому и хлюпающему ratelier (зубной протез - прим. перев .). Теперь привык - и только иногда замечаю, что собеседник украдкой вытирает то щеку, то бровь (когда слишком стремительно говорю что-нибудь) и перемигивает”. Здесь и далее письма Гринбергу цитируются по изданию: Рашит Янгиров “Друзья, бабочки и монстры: из переписки Владимира и Веры Набоковых с Романом Гринбергом. 1943-1967” // Диаспора: новые материалы. Альманах. 2001, №1. Париж, Atheneum - Спб., Феникс. 5 Pitzer, с. 173-174. Первый французский концлагерь для евреев, Дранси, появился в 1941 г. Рейс, которым уехали Набоковы, стал для “Шамплена” последним: по возвращении во Францию пароход подорвался на мине и затонул на рейде. 6 Bakh, письмо Веры Гольденвейзер, 26 июля 1941 г. 7 DBDV, c.52. 8 Даже в романе “Дар”, повествующем о трудной жизни эмигранта во враждебном немецком городе, слышны отголоски восхищения Набокова горами. Всякий раз, как заходит речь о радости, которую испытывает первооткрыватель, герой представляет себе покойного отца, исследователя Средней Азии, в горах, которые, кстати, несильно отличались от гор северной и центральной части штата Юта: тот же гранит и талые воды. Словно предвидя то, что ему только предстояло пережить в Америке, Набоков писал (в 1938 г.; первое американское издание “Дара” вышло в 1963 г.) о “настоящих крымских редкостях”, которые водились “гораздо выше, в горах, между скал”, о днях, проведенных в горах и пустынях, о “постоянном...

Входимость: 1. Размер: 58кб.

Часть текста: 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 garden and a twilight, and a palace gatedim and adorable regions which happened to be lucidly and absolutely forbidden to me, in my polluted rags and miserable convulsions; for I often noticed that living as we did, she and I, in a world of total evil, we would become strangely embarrassed whenever I tried to discuss something she and an older friend,...

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "ISLAND"

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Cлово "ISLAND"