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

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Часть текста: not really aware of any special similarities-- just as one is not aware of sharing mannerisms with a detestable kinsman. I loathe Van Veen. The following two quotations seem closely related: "I confess I do not believe in time. I like to fold my magic carpet, after use, in such a way as to superimpose one part of the pattern upon another. " (Speak, Memory) and "pure time, perceptual time, tangible time, time free of content, context and running commentary-- this is my time and theme. All the rest is numerical symbol or some aspect of space. " (Ada). Will you give me a lift on your magic carpet to point out bow time is animated in the story of Van and Ada? In his study of time my creature distinguishes between text and texture, between the contents of time and its almost tangible essence. I ignored that distinction in my Speak, Memory and was mainly concerned with being faithful to the patterns of my past. I suspect that Van Veen, having less control over his imagination than I, novelized in his indulgent old age many images of his youth. You have spoken in the past of your indifference to music, but in Ada you describe time as "rhythm, the tender intervals between Stresses. " Are these rhythms musical, aural, physical, cerebral, what? Those "intervals" which seem to reveal the gray gaps of time between the black bars of space are much more similar to the interspaces between a metronome's monotonous beats than to the varied rhythms of music or verse. If, as you have said, "mediocrity thrives on 'ideas, ' " why does Van, who is no mediocrity, start explaining at length near the end of the book bis ideas about time? Is this the vanity of Van? Or is the author commenting on or parodying his story? By "ideas" I meant of course general ideas, the big, sincere ideas which permeate a so-called great novel,...

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Часть текста: поэтический. Удалось ли?.. У Набокова оппозиция между перверсией и поэзией постоянно подвергается деконструкции: существование одной и другой может быть обосновано — более того, обусловлено — только отражением одной в другой. Когда Пнина-лектора представляют аудитории, его фамилию произносят как «Professor Pun-neen» (Pnin. 26), и можно подумать, что он — воплощение каламбура («pun»). Ведь что есть каламбур, как не вербальный взгляд искоса, искажение смысла посредством наложения двух смыслов — текста и теневого текста? Каламбур — это поэзия (и зачастую плохая поэзия) в миниатюре; фамилия героя обнаруживает существенную, неразрывную связь с исследованием искусства — и извращения, без которого искусство невозможно; извращения как главной метатворческой темы романа. Взаимосвязь между поэзией и перверсией с особой силой выражена в отношении к искусству Виктора — и к его, Виктора, влиянию на повествование о жизни Пнина. Дочитав роман до конца, мы в состоянии увидеть, что именно в момент вторжения Виктора в историю Пнина повествователь — «друг» Пнина — впервые теряет власть над своим «предметом». Когда в центр сцены выходит Виктор, Пнин в буквальном смысле на какое-то время исчезает из текста. Пресловутый предательский слог продолжает виться вдоль строк этой главы, но здесь — как в сказке про Золушку — стекло начинает брать верх. Стекло занимает главное место в ряде эпизодов, описывающих творческий процесс: «In the chrome plating, in the glass of a sun-rimmed headlamp, would see a view of the street and himself comparable to the microcosmic version of a room (with a dorsal view of diminutive people) in that very special and very magical small convex mirror that, half a millennium ago, Van Eyck and Petrus Christus and Memling...

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Часть текста: бытия, ощущающих Время или нет. Я знаю, что другие умирают, но это не имеет никакого значения. Я также знаю, что вы, возможно, как и я, рождены на свет, но это не доказывает, что мы прошли через временную фазу, именуемую Прошлым: это мое Настоящее, краткий просвет сознания, уверяет, что я ее прошел, а не бесшумное грохотание бесконечного бессознательного, предварявшее мое появление на свет пятьдесят два года и 195 дней тому назад. Мои первые воспоминания восходят к середине июля 1870 года, а именно, к семимесячному возрасту (у большинства-то, разумеется, четкое сознание проявляется позднее, года в три-четыре), — это было утром на нашей вилле, что на Ривьере: во время землетрясения кусок зеленого гипсового бордюра сорвался с потолка и рухнул прямо ко мне в кроватку. Сто девяносто пять предшествовавших этому событию и не отторжимых от бесконечности бессознательного дней не следует включать в сознательный период, так что, если сделать память точкой отсчета, мне сейчас (в середине июля 1922 года) день в день пятьдесят два, et trêve de mon style plafond peint [528] . В аналогичном восприятии индивидуального, осязающего времени я могу запустить свое Прошлое вспять, возрадовавшись мигу воспоминания в не меньшей степени, чем радовался рогу изобилия, гипсовый ананас из которого едва не угодил мне в голову, и допустить, что в следующий миг некий космический или телесный катаклизм мог бы — если не убить, то...

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Часть текста: giving one the impression that, as someone has said-- John Updike, I think-- your oeuvre is growing at both ends. Now that your first novel has appeared (Mashenka, 1926), it seems appropriate that, as we sail into the future, even earlier works should adhere to this elegant formula and make their quantum leap into English. Yes, my forthcoming Poems and Problems [McGraw-Hill] will offer several examples of the verse of my early youth, including "The Rain Has Flown," which was composed in the park of our country place, Vyra, in May 1917, the last spring my family was to live there. This "new" volume consists of three sections: a selection of thirty-six Russian poems, presented in the original and in translation; fourteen poems which I wrote directly in English, after 1940 and my arrival in America (all of which were published in The New Yorker), and eighteen chess problems, all but two of which were composed in recent years (the chess manuscripts of the 1940-1960 period have been mislaid and the earlier unpublished jottings are not worth printing). These Russian poems constitute no more than one percent of the mass of verse which I exuded with monstrous regularity during my youth. Do the components of that monstrous mass fall into any discernible periods or stages of development? What can be called rather grandly my European period of verse-making seems to show several distinctive stages: an initial one...

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Часть текста: Humbert Humbert and Lolita is very strong. In Hollywood and New York, however, relationships are frequent between men of forty and girls very little older than Lolita. They marry-- to no particular public outrage; rather, public cooing. No, it is not my sense of the immorality of the Humbert Humbert-Lolita relationship that is strong; it is Humbert's sense. He cares, I do not. I do not give a damn for public morals, in America or elsewhere. And, anyway, cases of men in their forties marrying girls in their teens or early twenties have no bearing on Lolita whatever. Humbert was fond of "little girls"-- not simply "young girls." Nymphets are girl-children, not starlets and "sex kittens." Lolita was twelve, not eighteen, when Humbert met her. You may remember that by the time she is fourteen, he refers to her as his "aging mistress." One critic has said about you that "his feelings are like no one else's. " Does this make sense to you? Or does it mean that you know your feelings better than others know theirs? Or that you have discovered yourself at other levels? Or simply that your history is unique? I do not recall that article; but if a critic makes such a statement, it must surely mean that he has explored the feelings of literally millions of people, in at least three countries, before reaching his conclusion. If so, lama rare fowl indeed. If, on the other hand, he has merely limited himself to quizzing members of his family or club, his statement cannot be discussed seriously. Another critic has written that your "worlds are static. They may become tense with obsession, but they do not break apart like the worlds of everyday reality. " Do you agree? Is there a static quality in your view of things? Whose "reality"? "Everyday" where? Let me suggest that the very term "everyday reality" is utterly static since it presupposes a situation that is...

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Часть текста: эссе “Вновь в комнате отца” Дмитрий Набоков описывает книжные полки с изданиями об искусстве и о бабочках. В жизни Набокова бабочки по своей значимости уступали только литературе. Доказательство тому — годы, отданные Гарвардскому музею сравнительной зоологии, и двадцать с лишним статей в лепидоптерологических журналах. Его таксономическая работа, посвященная южноамериканским Lycaenidae (бабочки семейства “голубянок”), остается фундаментом современных изысканий в этой области[1]. Но Природа едина, и невозможно знать все о бабочках, ничего не зная о многом другом. На тех же книжных полках — богатая коллекция разнообразных справочников: “Здесь есть Американский словарь, на оливково-коричневой обложке которого орел с национального герба превращается в великолепного сфинкса. Есть и орнитологические и ботанические тексты, поскольку он гордился тем, что мог опознать каждое растение и каждую птицу, с которыми ему доводилось сталкиваться”[2]. Русские названия впервые обнаруженных видов часто карандашом вписывались в его справочники, тогда как соответствующие латинские обозначения вставлялись на поля рукописей его переводчиков, чтобы облегчить перемещение книги на новую территорию[3]. Как говорит Дмитрий: “Отец любил и птицу, и слово”[4]. Набоков тщательно обустраивал флору и фауну своей прозы, хотя редко обременял специальной информацией читателя. Несмотря на то,...

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Часть текста: 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...

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Часть текста: 27, 28, 29, 1966, at Montreux, Switzerland. Mr. Nabokov and his wife have for the last six years lived in an opulent hotel built in 1835, which still retains its nineteenth-century atmosphere. Their suite of rooms is on the sixth floor, overlooking Lake Geneva, and the sounds of the lake are audible through the open doors of their small balcony. Since Mr. Nabokov does not like to talk off the cuff (or "Off the Nabocuff," as he said) no tape recorder was used. Mr. Nabokov ei! ther wrote out his answers to the questions or dictated them to the interviewer; in some instances, notes from the conversation were later recast as formal questions-and-answers. The interviewer was Nabokov's student at Cornell University in 1954, and the references are to Literature 311-312 (MWF, 12), a course on the Masterpieces of European Fiction (Jane Austen, Gogol, Dickens, Flaubert, Tolstoy, Stevenson, Kafka, Joyce, and Proust). Its enrollment had reached four hundred by the time of Nabokov's resignation in 1959. The footnotes to the interview, except where indicated, are provided by the interviewer, Alfred Appel, Jr. For years bibliographers and literary journalists didn't know whether to group you under "Russian" or "American. "Now that you're living in Switzerland there seems to be complete agreement that you're American. Do you find this kind of distinction at all important regarding your identity as a writer? I have always maintained, even as a schoolboy in Russia, that the nationality of a worthwhile writer is of secondary importance. The more distinctive an insect's aspect, the less apt the taxonomist is to glance first of all at the locality label under the pinned...

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Часть текста: 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...

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "PUN"

Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "PUN"