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Часть текста: I welcomed its desultory character 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 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,...
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Часть текста: 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 There was the day when having withdrawn the functional promise I had made her on the eve (whatever she had set her funny little heart ona roller rink with some special plastic floor or a movie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 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 ...
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Часть текста: с хвостиком опаловые пряди терялись в сияющих клубах седины. (С волосами Лены Массальской происходило то же и в том же возрасте, однако сестры заговорили об этом лишь в более поздние годы.) Вере не терпелось ускорить процесс. «Скорей бы уж вся поседела, — вздыхая, говорила она в 1948 году, хотя почти так оно и было. „Люди подумают, что я женился на старухе“, — возражал муж, на что Вера, глазом не моргнув, отвечала: „Глядя на тебя, не подумают!“» В конце сороковых она, с ее жемчужными волосами и алебастровой кожей — несоответствие между цветом волос и молодостью лица особенно бросалось в глаза, — станет не менее эффектна, чем в двадцатые годы, в период маски. Вера очень гордилась своим седым ореолом, который удивительным образом подчеркивал ее утонченность, неувядаемость; делал ее ни на кого не похожей. Седина придавала ее облику что-то неземное. Вера с готовностью подхватила восторженную фразу одной парикмахерши: такой цвет невозможно воспроизвести искусственно. Ни у кого больше не было такой необыкновенной натуральной седины. Мнение о собственном облике сложилось у Веры довольно рано; собственное отражение казалось ей неадекватным не только в романах мужа. «С самого детства я плохо выхожу на снимках», — сетовала она. Это заявление свидетельствует как о некоторой доле тщеславия, так ...
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Часть текста: камуфляжа Набоков и этика камуфляжа Одна из наиболее этически значительных черт повествовательного искусства Набокова состоит в поощрении переноса внимания читателя с текста на процесс чтения. В той или иной мере это свойство присуще большинству выдающихся литературных произведений: читая книгу, нередко замечаешь, что и книга как бы читает тебя. Однако причины такого поворота неодинаковы, и в каждом отдельном случае выявление их позволяет судить об этическом приложении эстетической системы автора. При отсутствии откровенного дидактизма художественное повествование не заставляет читателя перенести объект критического рассмотрения с текста на самого себя, но создает условия для такого перехода. У Набокова наиболее распространенным общим стимулом читательской саморефлексии является замаскированная сложность прозы. Как известно, большинство набоковских романов и рассказов читается легко, с легкостью завораживает читателя, и только при повторном чтении дано хоть частично оценить замысловатую игру мотивов, образов и литературных аллюзий. Сквозь строки критических трудов, посвященных Набокову, нередко проступает радость открытия, испытанная литературоведом; да и рядовой читатель верит, что заметил, увидел, понял что-то, наверняка ускользнувшее от других, — Набоков словно вовлекает каждого из нас, каждого в отдельности, в счастье текущих откровений. Однако чувство элитарной полуинтимности с автором в значительной мере обманчиво: впоследствии выясняется, что при первом чтении слишком многое было упущено. [1] Как говорил Набоков, романы нельзя читать, их можно лишь перечитывать. Особенность эффекта перечитывания Набокова в том, что незамеченные ранее штрихи влияют на осознание и оценки личностей и действий героев не только количественно (понимаем...
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Часть текста: or so. It will be seem from them that for all the devil’s inventiveness, the scheme remained daily the same. First he would tempt meand then thwart me, leaving me with a dull pain in the very root of my being. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and how to do it, without impinging on a child’s chastity; after all, I had had some experience in my life of pederosis; had visually possessed dappled nymphets in parks; had wedged my wary and bestial way into the hottest, most crowded corner of a city bus full of straphanging school children. But for almost three weeks I had been interrupted in all my pathetic machinations. The agent of these interruptions was usually the Haze woman (who, as the reader will mark, was more afraid of Lo’s deriving some pleasure from me than of my enjoying Lo). 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...
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Часть текста: of words, staunch in my belief that a careful rereader, forearmed with a knowledge of what is to come, is more apt to catch the glimpses of future greatness that the prose of a first novel allows. After having considered and discarded one by one a series of clever but clumsy titles for this chapter I settled on the pedestrian choice above. Engaging in verbal legerdemain while speaking of Nabokov is a perilous and perhaps foolhardy undertaking, given his own multilingual mastery over words--one might compare it to beginning a talk on Nijinsky by stepping from behind the lectern to attempt a jeté or two. While much, indeed too much, has been written about Nabokov's English novels, much less has been said about his earliest Russian fiction. It is to this I must now turn. My editor has chided me for diverging too frequently and too widely from my subject--but what is a life if not a series of diversions from some hidden, ineffable theme? Mashen'ka opens with the tongue-twisting name and patronymic of the protagonist Ganin, Lev Glebovich, which, complains the character Alferov, "iazyk vyzvikhnut' mozhno" (7). Instantly we are made aware of the potential treachery of words. With Alferov's statement a few paragraphs later that "vsiakoe imia obiazyvaet," we are also reminded of their power. The first stylistic glimmer of the mature Nabokov, which comes after the brief dialogue between Ganin and Alferov of which chapter one wholly consists, is the sequence "i bubliki, i brilliantin i prosto brillianty" (17-18) a harbinger of such later alliterative lists as "the brook and the boughs and the beauty of the Beyond" 1 and "glacial drifts, drumlins, and gremlins, and kremlins." 2 In the sentence "Tak meshalis' v nem chustvo chesti i chustvo zhalosti, otumanivaia tvorcheskie podvigi, na vsiakii trud, i prinimaiushchagosia za etot trud zhadno, s okhotoi, s radostnym namereniem vse odolet' ...
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Часть текста: пятнадцатилетний парень, каким я тогда был, нашел укрытие во время грозы — их было необычайно много в том июле. Моя беседка снится мне по крайней мере дважды в году. Как правило, она появляется совершенно независимо от темы сна, которой, конечно, может быть что угодно — от аббревиатуры до ящура. Она, так сказать, находится поблизости, с ненавязчивостью подписи художника. Я нахожу ее прицепившейся к краю призрачного холста, или хитро вписанной в какую-нибудь декоративную часть картины. Временами, впрочем, она висит в отдалении, чуть барочная, но в ладу с красивыми деревьями, темной елью и светлой березой, сок которых когда-то бежал в ее бревнах. Винно-красные, бутылочно-зеленые и темно-синие ромбы цветного стекла придавали решетчатым конструкциям ее створных окон вид часовни. Она точно такая, как во времена моего детства — крепкое старое деревянное строение над заросшим папоротником оврагом в старой, приречной части нашего вырского парка. Точно такая, или немного более совершенная. В реальной беседке не хватало нескольких стекол, внутрь нанесло ветром опавших листьев. Узкий мостик, изогнувшийся над самой глубокой частью оврага, посередине которого, точно сгустившаяся радуга, поднималась беседка, был таким скользким после приступа дождя, как будто его покрыли какой-то темной и в некотором смысле волшебной мазью. Этимологически беседка (pavilion) и бабочка (papilio) тесно связаны. Внутри не было ничего из мебели, кроме складного стола, прикрепленного ржавыми петлями к стене под восточным окном, сквозь два или три пустых или простых ромба которого, среди надменных голубых и хмельных красных, можно было на...
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Часть текста: 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 fancy and nature’s reality, the deception was bearable. Unbearable pain began when chance entered the fray and deprived me of the smile meant for me. “ Savez-vous qu’ dix ans ma petite tait folle de voius?” said a woman I talked to at a tea in Paris, and the petite had just married, miles away, and I could not even remember if I had ever noticed her in that garden, next to those tennis courts, a dozen years before. And now likewise, the radiant foreglimpse, the...
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Часть текста: its dense coverts spread a huge neglected garden, the retreat of pensive dryads. II The venerable castle was built as castles should be 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 while away the time, at first conceived the plan our Eugene 4 of instituting a new system. In his backwoods a solitary sage, the ancient corvée 's yoke by the light quitrent he replaced; 8 the muzhik blessed fate, while in his corner went into a huff, therein perceiving dreadful harm, his thrifty neighbor. 12 Another slyly smiled, and all concluded with one voice that he was a most dangerous eccentric. V At first they all would call on him, but since to the back porch habitually a Don stallion 4 for him was brought ...
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Часть текста: La Tribune de Genève, etc. Furthermore, I like to see the proofs for checking last-minute misprints or possible little flaws of fact (dates, places). Being an unusually muddled speaker (a poor relative of the writer) I would like the stuff I prepared in typescript to be presented as direct speech on my part, whilst other statements which I may stammer out in the course of our chats, and the gist of which you might want to incorporate in The Profile, should be used, please, obliquely or paraphrastically, without any quotes. Naturally, it is for you to decide whether the background material should be kept separate in its published form from the question-and-answer section. I am leaving the attached material with the concierge because I think you might want to peruse it before we meet. I am very much looking forward to seeing you. Please give me a ring when you are ready." The text given below is that of the typescript. The interview appeared in The New York Times Book Review on May 12, 1968. How does VN live and relax? A very old Russian friend of ours, now dwelling in Paris, remarked recently when she was here, that one night, forty years ago, in the course of a little quiz at one of her literary parties in Berlin, I, being asked where I would like to live, answered, "In a large comfortable hotel." That is exactly what my wife and I are doing now. About every other year she and I fly (she) or sail (she and 1), back to...