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

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Часть текста: la nature des choses. Necker VII The less we love a woman the easier 'tis to be liked by her, and thus more surely we undo her 4 among bewitching toils. Time was when cool debauch was lauded as the art of love, trumpeting everywhere about itself, 8 taking its pleasure without loving. But that grand game is worthy of old sapajous of our forefathers' vaunted times; 12 the fame of Lovelaces has faded with the fame of red heels and of majestic periwigs. VIII Who does not find it tedious to dissemble; diversely to repeat the same; try gravely to convince one 4 of what all have been long convinced; to hear the same objections, annihilate the prejudices which never had and hasn't 8 a little girl of thirteen years! Who will not grow weary of threats, entreaties, vows, feigned fear, notes running to six pages, 12 betrayals, gossiping, rings, tears, surveillances of aunts, of mothers, and the onerous friendship of husbands! IX Exactly thus my Eugene thought....

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Часть текста: 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 sidewalk (where she had so often pointed out to me with disapproval the crooked green cracks) concealed the mangled remains of Charlotte Humbert who had been knocked down and dragged several feet by the Beale car as she was hurrying across the street to drop three letters in the mailbox, at the corner of Miss Opposite’s lawn. These were picked up and handed to me by a pretty child in a dirty pink frock, and I got rid of them by clawing them to fragments in my trouser pocket. Three doctors and the Farlows presently arrived on the scene and took over. The widower, a man of exceptional self-control, neither wept nor raved. He staggered a ...

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Часть текста: they are situated on the boundaries of different academic fields, such as physiology, medicine, philosophy, psychology, literary and cultural studies, and semiotics. V.M.Kovalzon, The Doctor of Biology and a member of the International Association for the Study of Dreams, defines the process of sleeping as “...особое генетически детерминированное состояние организма человека и других теплокровных животных (т.е. млекопитающих и птиц), характеризующееся закономерной последовательной сменой определенных полиграфических картин в виде циклов, фаз и стадий» (“.a special, genetically determined state of the human body and the body of other warm-blooded animals (mammals and birds), which is characterized by the logical succession of certain multi-graphic pictures in the form of cycles, phases and stages” ) [6, с.311]. The process of sleeping is inevitably accompanied by the phases of dreams, which some scholars describe as the period of paradoxical sleeping. According to J.M. Lotman, a dream is «семиотическое зеркало, и каждый видит в нем отражение своего языка» (“.a semiotic mirror, and everyone beholds in it the reflection of his or her own language”) [9, с.124]. V. N. Toporov, while chronologically cataloguing literary dreams from the texts of I. S. Turgenev, proposed to classify them according to their themes and to distinguish their repeating motifs and archetypes [21]. But the recurrence of similar images and situations of literary dreams might be found in the literary texts not only of the same, but of different...

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Часть текста: sad your apparition is to me, spring, spring, season of love! What a dark stir there is 4 in my soul, in my blood! With what oppressive tenderness I revel in the whiff of spring fanning my face 8 in the lap of the rural stillness! Or is enjoyment strange to me, and all that gladdens, animates, all that exults and gleams, 12 casts spleen and languishment upon a soul long dead and all looks dark to it? III Or gladdened not by the return of leaves that perished in the autumn, a bitter loss we recollect, 4 harking to the new murmur of the woods; or with reanimated nature we compare in troubled thought the withering of our years, 8 for which there is no renovation? Perhaps there comes into our thoughts, midst a poetical reverie, some other ancient spring, 12 which sets our heart aquiver with the dream of a distant clime, a marvelous night, a moon.... IV Now is the time: good lazybones, epicurean sages; you, equanimous fortunates; 4 you, fledglings of the Lyóvshin 41 school; you, country Priams; and sentimental ladies, you; spring calls you to the country, 8 season of warmth, of flowers, of labors, of inspired rambles, and of seductive nights. Friends! to the fields, quick, quick; 12 in heavy loaden chariots; with your own horses or with posters; out of the towngates start to trek! V And you, indulgent...

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Часть текста: составившие целую библиотеку набоковских и набоковедческих изданий, со скептической усмешкой могут заметить: из шестидесяти восьми рассказов и новелл, вошедших в книгу, шестьдесят четыре неоднократно перепечатывались, в том числе и в двух собраниях сочинений – «огоньковском» четырехтомнике 1990 года с его баснословным тиражом 170 тысяч экземпляров и в «симпозиумовском» десятитомнике, – а поскольку «Полное собрание рассказов» является точным аналогом сборника «The Stories of Vladimir Nabokov» (1995), выпущенного под редакцией Дмитрия Набокова, возникает законный вопрос: в чем же заключалась «многолетняя работа» не названных в аннотации «исследователей»? И имеет ли смысл приобретать, причем за немалые деньги, книгу, в которой содержится только три рассказа, ранее неизвестные российскому читателю? (Рассказ 1924 года «Наташа», не опубликованный при жизни Набокова и не входивший в названные собрания сочинений, был напечатан в «Новой газете» 164, при желании его без труда можно выловить в Сети; три другие новинки – «Говорят по-русски» (1922), «Звуки» (1923) и «Боги» (1923) – до сего времени были доступны только в переводах на английский, выполненных сыном писателя для «The Stories of Vladimir Nabokov»; представляя несомненный антикварный интерес, они явно не блещут художественными достоинствами: не случайно взыскательный автор так и не решился напечатать их при жизни – ни по-русски, ни по-английски.) Может быть, книгу стоит приобрести ради набоковедческого обрамления? Тем более что оно здесь не только отличается многослойностью, но и сдобрено изрядной долей веселого абсурда. Судите сами. «Итоговый конволют» (воспользуемся словечком составителя) открывается переводом предисловия Д. В....

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Часть текста: Functional Motelclean, neat, safe nooks, ideal places for sleep, argument, reconciliation, insatiable 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 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, ...

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Часть текста: 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 then toasted it with a dram of gin. 18 The reader must now forget Chestnuts and Colts, and accompany us further west. The following days were marked by a number of great thunderstormsor perhaps, thee was but one single storm which progressed across country in ponderous frogleaps and which we could not shake off just as we could not...

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Часть текста: in the entrance hall belonged to the type that allows one to glimpse something of its contents through a glassed 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 all the demons of my desire against the railing of a throbbing balcony: it would be ready to take off in the apricot and black humid evening; did take offwhereupon the lighted image would move and Even would revert to a rib, and there would be nothing in the window but an obese partly clad man reading the paper. Since I sometimes won the race between my...

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Часть текста: В конце июня 1944 года он побывал у Уилсонов в Уэлфлите. Под их влиянием, а также в результате того, что в поезде он простудился и какое-то время не мог ходить в Музей сравнительной зоологии, на него «излился поток вдохновения» и он «сочинил еще одну потрясающую главу моего романа». Уже было написано сто страниц, и он собирался назвать книгу не «Человек из Порлока», a «Game to Gunm» [31] 2 . В конце июля Набоковы отправили Дмитрия в лагерь в Вермонте, а сами провели две недели в Уэлфлите, в забронированном Уилсоном отеле. На одном из многочисленных приемов у Уилсонов они встретили их соседку и приятельницу Нину Чавчавадзе, воодушевленно вспоминавшую о том, как, будучи еще Ниной Романовой, она каталась на лодке по Кему с одетым в белую фланель Володей Набоковым. Он отзывался об их романе куда более сухо 3 . Несмотря на бурную светскую жизнь, а может быть и вследствие ее, в семье Уилсонов наметился разлад. Ситуация особенно обострилась, когда однажды после ухода гостей Мэри Маккарти попросила мужа вынести мусор. «Сама выноси», — ответил он и издевательски поклонился, когда она, с двумя большими ведрами, попыталась протиснуться сквозь закрывавшую дверной проем раму с москитной сеткой. Мэри влепила мужу пощечину и в гневе удалилась наверх. Уилсон крикнул ей вслед: «Ты думаешь, тебе со мной плохо. Так я сделаю, чтобы тебе было по-настоящему плохо» — после чего избил ее. Маккарти сбежала в Нью-Йорк. На следующий день Уилсон отправился к Набоковым и стал...

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Часть текста: 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...

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