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

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Часть текста: characterize as the overly vociferous behest of my good, but sometimes impatient, editor, who enjoined me, in a fax sent to the seedy but comfortable hotel in Villefranche-sur-Mer where I was recovering from recent scholarly labors, to "get on with it." (Incidentally, the sea softly plashing against the sandy edge of this charming townlet is, at noon, a deep azure hue, recalling a certain lake in my homeland, a distant northern land. And at night, I have noticed on my insomniac rambles, the moon casts slivers of silvery light upon the ink-black waters. Do remind me to say more of this later.) The original contract for this book (signed three years ago with a then noticeably more solicitous publisher whose name I am legally bound not to mention) stipulated that the text be comprised not only of biography proper (of which the reader has already enjoyed, I trust, a taste) but also of criticism of each of Nabokov's books. In lieu of any sensible reason not to proceed in any but a chronological, or pseudo-chronological, fashion, I turn now to...

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Часть текста: two years, and the latter for hardly a month; when Monsieur wants to get the whole damned thing over with as quickly as possible, and Madame gives in with a tolerant smile; then, my reader, the wedding is generally a “quiet” affair. The bride may dispense with a tiara of orange blossoms securing her finger-tip veil, nor does she carry a white orchid in a prayer book. The bride’s little daughter might have added to the ceremonies uniting H. and H. a touch of vivid vermeil; but I knew I would not dare be too tender with cornered Lolita yet, and therefore agreed it was not worth while tearing the child away from her beloved Camp Q. My soi-disant passionate and lonely Charlotte was in everyday life matter-of-fact and gregarious. Moreover, I discovered that although she could not control her heart or her cries, she was a woman of principle. Immediately after she had become more or less my mistress (despite the stimulants, her “nervous, eager chri a heroic chri ! had some initial trouble, for which, however, he amply compensated her by a fantastic display of old-world endearments), good Charlotte interviewed me about my relations with God. I could have answered that on that score my mind was open; I said, insteadpaying my tribute to a pious platitudethat I believed in a cosmic spirit. Looking down at her fingernails, she also asked me had I not in my family a certain strange strain. I countered by inquiring whether she would still want to marry me if my father’s maternal grandfather had been, say, a Turk. She said it did not matter a bit; but that, if she ever found out I did not believe in Our ...

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Часть текста: 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...

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Часть текста: fire of my loins. My sin, my 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, ...

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Часть текста: - 36 32 There was the day, during our first tripour first circle of paradisewhen in order to enjoy my phantasms in peace I firmly decided to ignore what I could not help perceiving, the fact that I was to her not a boy friend, not a glamour man, not a pal, not even a person at all, but just two eyes and a foot of engorged brawnto mention only mentionable matters. There was the day when having withdrawn the functional promise I had made her on the eve (whatever she had set her funny little heart ona roller rink with some special plastic floor or a movie matinee to which she wanted to go alone), I happened to glimpse from the bathroom, through a chance combination of mirror aslant 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 ...

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Часть текста: в пасхальном номере берлинского еженедельника «Русское эхо» 12 апреля 1925 года. [4] Это была первая и последняя его публикация. Считалось, что номер еженедельника с этим рассказом Набокова не сохранился. [5] Не сохранился «Пасхальный дождь» и в архивах писателя: рассказ был утерян. Однако после долгих поисков мне удалось найти этот уникальный номер «Русского эха» с набоковским рассказом в одной из библиотек бывшей Восточной Германии 71 год спустя после его выхода в свет. Теперь несколько слов о фабуле рассказа «Пасхальный дождь». Главная его героиня — старая швейцарка Жозефина, вернувшаяся в родную Лозанну после двенадцати лет, проведенных в России, где она была гувернанткой в русской семье. Несмотря на то, что, живя в Петербурге, Жозефина чувствовала себя одинокой, лишней и непонятой, сейчас она тоскует по России и с ностальгией вспоминает свою прошлую жизнь. Действие в рассказе начинается в православную Страстную субботу. Жозефина, которой очень хочется отпраздновать православную Пасху в соответствии с русской традицией, покупает полдюжины яиц, неумело их красит и идет навестить знакомую русскую семью, с которой надеется встретить праздник. Однако она чувствует, что заболевает: у нее сильный озноб и кашель. Скоро бывшей гувернантке становится ясно, что знакомые не хотят ее общества и с трудом дожидаются ее ухода. Она понимает, что все ее усилия были напрасны: праздника совсем не получилось. Дома ей становится совсем плохо: она начинает бредить, и утром врач находит у нее воспаление легких. Пять дней она находится при смерти, но на шестой день неожиданно приходит в себя. Жозефина возвращается из бреда в этот мир в каком-то совершенно новом, радостном и обновленном состоянии. Рассказ заканчивается...

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Часть текста: 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...

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Часть текста: 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 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 ...

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Часть текста: – целуют» (Там же: 468, 478, 481, 491). Что же касается рифмы «лип – скрип», то в ученических опытах Набокова она не встречается, но обнаруживается во многих текстах поэтов Серебряного века – Брюсова, Бунина, С. М. Соловьева, Ахматовой и др. Из них на садово-парковую эротическую лирику Годунова-Чердынцева больше всего похожи «Летний бал» Брюсова (1910) и «Тихой ночью поздний месяц вышел…» Бунина (1916). 3–2 … тетя Ксения, та писала стихи только по-французски <… > ее излияния были очень популярны в петербургском свете, особенно поэма «La femme et la panthère»… – Название и тема поэмы «Женщина и пантера» ведут свое происхождение от французского изобразительного искусства второй половины XIX – начала ХХ века и, подобно многим живописным работам на этот сюжет, имеют отчетливые эротические коннотации. См., например, картину Камиля Коро (Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot, 1796–1875) «La Bacchante à la Panthère» («Вакханка с пантерой», 1860) или «Нимфу и пантеру» («Nymphe et panthère», 1895) художника-символиста Пьера-Эмиля Корнийе (Pierre-Émile Cornillier, 1862–1948). Особую популярность сюжет приобрел в графике и скульптуре ар-деко. Из многочисленных примеров приведем лишь рекламный плакат ювелирной фирмы «Картье» (1914) работы графика Жоржа Барбье (George Barbier, 1882–1932). Литературным источником поэмы мог бы быть эффектный эпизод новеллы Ж. А. Барбе д’Оревильи (Jules Amédée Barbey d’Aurevilly, 1808–1889) «Le Bonheur dans le crime» («Счастье в преступлении») из сборника «Les diaboliques» («Дьяволицы», 1874). Рассказчик и его приятель,...

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Часть текста: both sections of one double unit, each containing a double bed. I wondered what type of foursome this arrangement was even intended for, since only a pharisaic parody of privacy could be attained by means of the incomplete partition dividing the cabin or room into two communicating love nests. By and by, the very possibilities that such honest promiscuity suggested (two young couples merrily swapping mates or a child shamming sleep to earwitness primal sonorities) made me bolder, 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 ...

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "MISERABLE"

Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "MISERABLE"