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Часть текста: и творчество Владимира Набокова в оценке русских и зарубежных мыслителей и исследователей [Т 1]. СПб., 1997. С. 462. 2 Среди работ последних лет по изучению интертекстуальности у Набокова можно назвать следующие: Млечко А. В. Игра, метатекст, трикстер: пародия в «русских» романах В. В. Набокова. Волгоград, 2000; Злочевская А. В. 1) Художественный мир Владимира Набокова и русская литература XIX века. М., 2002; 2) Художественный мир в. Набокова и русская литература XIX в.: Генетические связи, типологические параллели и оппозиции: дис. ... д-ра. филол. наук. М., 2002; Шадурский В. В. Интертекст русской классики в прозе Владимира Набокова. Новгород, 2004; Shapiro G.. Delicate Markers: Subtexts in Vladimir Nabokov’s “Invitation to a Beheading”. New York, 1998; Tammi P Russian Subtexts in Nabokov’s Fiction. Tampere, 1999. 3 См.: Долинин А. Истинная жизнь писателя Сирина: Работы о Набокове. СПб., 2004. С. 15. По мнению известного современного набоковеда, «аллюзии на чужие тексты в набоковской прозе, при всей их несомненной важности, играют подчиненную роль по отношению к интратекстуальным связям, мотивированы этими последними и потому должны изучаться только в соотнесении с ними» (Там же). Не стремясь оспорить этот взгляд, мы сознательно выбираем в качестве объекта исследования интертекстуальные параллели. 4 Люксембург А., Рахимкулова Г. Магистр игры Вивиан Ван Бок (Игра слов в прозе Владимира Набокова в свете теории каламбура). Ростов н/Д., 1996. С. 42. Об игровой поэтике Набокова см. также, напр.: Пимкина А. А. Принцип игры в творчестве Набокова: дис. ... канд. филол. наук. М., 1999; Сабурова О. Н. Русскоязычное творчество В. Набокова: Проблемы игровой поэтики: дис. ... канд. филол. наук. СПб.,...
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Часть текста: роще. КИНОАППАРАТ заглядывает за кусты и деревья. Две тени в подлеске поспешно расцепляются. Далекие голоса зовущих нарастают и затем затихают. Голоса. Лолита! Лолита! Грунтовая дорога ведет к лагерным домикам и палаткам. За рулем автомобиля — Гумберт. Чарли, четырнадцатилетний сын начальницы лагеря, катит пустые баки через дорогу. Гумберт (указывая рукой из окна). Там находится контора? Чарли молча показывает ему направление, дернув большим пальцем руки. Контора — Гумберт и начальница лагеря. Начальница (подсчитывая сумму оплаты и не поднимая глаз от бумаги). Какая трагедия! Когда же похороны? Гумберт. Ох, они уже были вчера. Я решил, что ребенку не стоит этого видеть. Излишнее потрясение. Оплачивает счет. Начальница. Спасибо. Бедняжка Лолита. Вот ваша расписка. Появляется Лолита, волоча и подталкивая свой чемодан. Лолита. Здрасьте, здрасьте. Он опускает руку на ее голову и подхватывает чемодан. На ней ее самое яркое клетчатое платье и коричнево-белые полуботинки. Когда они подходят к автомобилю, Лолита взмахом руки прощается с Чарли. Лолита. Счастливо оставаться, дружок Чарли! Угрюмо, не без некоторого сожаления он провожает ее светлыми, с белесыми ресницами глазами. Внутри нагретого солнцем автомобиля. Она усаживается рядом с Гумбертом, прихлопнув на своих коленях...
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Часть текста: never paid much attention to those insects and I was touched and flattered by the childish wonderment with which they viewed the crowds of butterflies imbibing moisture on brookside mud at various spots of the mountain trail. Pictures were taken of the swarms that arose at my passage, and other hours of the day were devoted to the reproduction of the interview proper. It eventually appeared on the Bookstand program and was published in The Listener (November 22, 1962). I have mislaid the cards on which I had written my answers. I suspect that the published text was taken straight from the tape for it teems with inaccuracies. These I have tried to weed out ten years later but was forced to strike out a few sentences here and there when memory refused to restore the sense flawed by defective or improperly mended speech. The poem I quote (with metrical accents added) will be found translated into English in Chapter Two of The Gift, G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York, 1963. Would you ever go back to Russia? I will never go back, for the simple reason that all the Russia I need is always with me: literature, language, and my own Russian childhood. I will never return. I will never surrender. And anyway, the grotesque shadow of a police state will not be dispelled in my lifetime. I don't think they know my works there-- oh, perhaps a number of readers exist there in my special secret service,...
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Часть текста: дама, валет» был напечатан в Берлине эмигрантским издательством «Слово» в 1928 году. В отличие от романа «Машенька» (1926), показавшегося критикам бесхитростным и традиционным, он удивил публику новаторством и оригинальностью [70]. Остроту эксперименту придавало использование расхожего литературного сюжета, воспроизведенного в сниженном варианте бульварного романа. Исследователи заметили в произведении пародию, в первую очередь на «Анну Каренину» и «Мадам Бовари» [71]. Предлагаемое прочтение оставляет, однако, незамеченным сложный художественный механизм романа. Справедливым кажется общее указание на пародию, но осуществляется она не на внешнем сюжетном уровне, а на скрытом, глубинном уровне романной структуры. 1. Музыкальная модель Роман В. Набокова «Король, дама, валет» является своеобразным продолжением опыта, осуществленного в русской литературе Андреем Белым, его четырьмя Симфониями, эпическим повествованием, написанным по принципу музыкального контрапункта. Образцом для романа Набоков также избрал музыкальную модель — танец, вальс — и литературно воспроизвел его композиционную схему и структурную организацию. В контексте обиходной жизни и в сопоставлении с ней танец представляет действие развлекательное, игровое и искусственное. Движение осуществляется чередованием фигур, набор которых заранее определен, а порядок репетитивен. Оно подчинено звуковому сигналу, музыкальному сопровождению, которое обусловливает его размер и темп. Как известно, музыка...
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Часть текста: 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 some relief if he wanted to have me as a plaything for some time longer. The reader has also marked the curious Mirage of the Lake. It would have been logical on the part of Aubrey McFate (as I would like to dub that devil of mine) to arrange a small treat for me on the promised beach, in the presumed forest. Actually, the promise Mrs. Haze had made was a fraudulent one: she had not told me that Mary Rose Hamilton (a dark little beauty in her own right) was to come too, and that the two nymphets would be whispering apart, and playing apart, and having a good time all by themselves, while Mrs. Haze and her handsome lodger conversed sedately in the seminude, far from prying eyes. Incidentally, eyes did pry and tongues did wag. How queer life is! We hasten to alienate the very fates we intended to woo. Before my actual arrival, my landlady had planned to have an old spinster, a Miss Phalen, whose mother had been cook in Mrs. Haze’s family, come to stay in the house with Lolita and me, while Mrs. Haze, a career girl at heart, sought some suitable job in the nearest city. Mrs. Haze had seen the whole situation very clearly: the bespectacled, round-backed Herr Humbert coming with his Central-European trunks to gather dust in his corner behind a heap of old books; the unloved ugly little daughter firmly supervised by Miss Phalen who had already once had my Lo under her buzzard wing (Lo recalled that 1944 summer with an indignant shudder); and Mrs. Haze herself engaged as a receptionist in a great elegant city. But a not too complicated event interfered with that program. Miss Phalen broke her hip in Savannah, Ga., on the very day I arrived in...
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Часть текста: me next morning, with a little lad of his, a copper case: it had an elaborate Oriental design over the lid and could be securely locked. Once glance sufficed to assure me that it was one of those cheap money boxes called for some reason “luizettas” that you buy in Algiers and elsewhere, and wonder what to do with afterwards. It turned out to be much too flat for holding my bulky chessmen, but I kept itusing it for a totally different purpose. In order to break some pattern of 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...
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Часть текста: 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...
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Часть текста: 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 ...
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Часть текста: illicit love. At first, in my dread of arousing suspicion, I would eagerly pay for 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...
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Часть текста: slit. Several times already, a trick of harlequin light that fell through the glass upon an alien handwriting had twisted it into a semblance of Lolita’s script causing me almost to collapse as I leant against an adjacent urn, almost my own. Whenever that happenedwhenever her lovely, childish scrawl was horribly transformed into the dull hand of one of my few correspondentsI used to recollect, with anguished amusement, the times in my trustful, pre-dolorian past when I would be misled by a jewel-bright window opposite wherein my lurking eye, the ever alert periscope of my shameful vice, would make out from afar a half-naked nymphet stilled in the act of combing her Alice-in-Wonderland hair. There was in the fiery phantasm a perfection which made my wild delight also perfect, just because the vision was out of reach, with no possibility of attainment to spoil it by the awareness of an appended taboo; indeed, it may well be that the very attraction immaturity has for me lies not so much in the limpidity of pure young forbidden fairy child beauty as in the security of a situation where infinite perfections fill the gap between the little given and the great promisedthe great rosegray never-to-be-had. Mes fentres! Hanging above blotched sunset and welling night, grinding my teeth, I would crowd...