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

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Часть текста: 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, but let us not forget that Russia has grown tremendously provincial during these forty years, apart from ...

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Часть текста: with Z composes an outlandish elucidation of another man's masterpiece. His startling, perhaps outrageous claims upset certain entrenched academic specialists, and he must flee (a world tour, a centenary), and undergo the ordeals of exile before coming to rest, in some almost successful disguise—as a professor of English at the University of Auckland, New Zealand. An unlikely plot, but the real story is no less exceptional: Brian Boyd, author of the prize-winning two-volume biography, Vladimir Nabokov: The Russian Years and Vladimir Nabokov: The American Years, and of Nabokov's Ada: The Place of Consciousness and the just-released Nabokov's Pale Fire: The Magic of Artistic Discovery, is a scholar who changed his mind. Writing in The New York Observer on Boyd's 'remarkable, obsessive, delirious, devotional study, Nabokov's Pale Fire,' Ron Rosenbaum called him 'an ornament of the accidents and possibilities of Nabokov scholarship' and praised him 'for having the courage and humility to retract an earlier conjecture and the imaginative daring' to (as Boyd himself might put it) re-re-reread Pale Fire. Nabokov's 1962 novel takes the form of an introduction by a scholar named Charles Kinbote; a lucid 999-line poem by an American poet named John Shade; and a commentary and index by Kinbote, whose attention veers continually from the poem to his own unsatisfactory life, from John Shade's homely...

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Часть текста: эти строки сопровождаются следующей историко-литературной справкой: «Роберт Лоуэлл (1917-1977) - американский поэт. Ольга Карлайл, урожд<енная> Андреева - внучка русского писателя Леонида Андреева, дочь его сына, эмигрантского поэта и прозаика Вадима Андреева, - переводчица, журналистка, автор мемуаров, в том числе о встречах с Борисом Пастернаком» 2 . Справка эта нуждается в существенных дополнениях. В частности, что такое те «мерзостны<е> “преображен- ии<я>”», о которых с таким гневом пишет своему адресату Набоков? Очевидно, что речь здесь идет об одной из тогдашних новинок - антологии “Poets on Street Corners” («Поэты на уличных углах») под редакцией О. В. Андреевой-Карлайль. В антологию эту вошли переводы из пятнадцати русских поэтов: А. Блока, Анны Ахматовой, Б. Пастернака, О. Мандельштама, М. Цветаевой, В. Маяковского, С. Есенина, Н. Заболоцкого, Б. Поплавского, Е. Евтушенко, А. Вознесенского, И. Холина, Г. Сапгира, Б. Ахмадулиной и И. Бродского 3 . Переводы из Мандельштама, выполненные Робертом Лоуэллом, лауреатом Bollingen Poetry Translation Prize 1962 г., помещены в антологии с указанием на их подчеркнуто вольный характер. Уже этого одного обстоятельства было достаточно для того, чтоб Набоков счел Лоуэлла оскорбителем тени покойного Мандельштама - поэта, который Набокову был особенно дорог в те годы 4 . В 1964 г. в предисловии к своему комментированному переводу пушкинского «Онегина» Набоков писал, что попытки поэтического перевода подпадают под три категории: 1) парафрастический перевод (создание вольного...

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Часть текста: Chronicle ) называют самым сложным в творчестве писателя и наиболее зашифрованном. Для удобства чтения в тексте статьи приводится также русский вариант примеров из романа «Ада или Радости страсти», в переводе С. Ильина. От мысли к слову: символический язык Владимира Набокова – Что вы читаете, мой принц? – Слова, слова, слова («Гамлет», В. Шекспир) Дилемма является ли текст языком или речью (как и вопрос, является ли, например, музыка языком, или речью, или же представляет собой абстрактный язык символов), так и не находит однозначного решения, несмотря на то, что многие исследователи обращаются к этому вопросу и отвечают на него тем или иным образом. Соотнесение текста художественного произведения с письменной речью, с одной стороны, и взгляд на художественный текст как на замкнутую семиотическую систему, с другой, осложняется еще и тем, что не существует однозначного решения вопроса, каким образом происходит взаимодействие между мыслью и словом. Достаточно вспомнить о понятии...

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Часть текста: the real clash isn't between the characters, but between the author and the world. Would you explain this? I believe I said "between the author and the reader," not "the world," which would be a meaningless formula, since a creative artist makes his own world or worlds. He clashes with readerdom because he is his own ideal reader and those other readers are so very often mere lip-moving ghosts and amnesiacs. On the other hand, a good reader is bound to make fierce efforts when wrestling wdth a difficult author, but those efforts can be most rewarding after the bright dust has settled. What is your particular clash? Well, that's the clash I am generally faced with. In many of your writings, you have conceived what {consider to be an Alice-in-Wonderland world of unreality and illusion. What is the connection with your real struggle with the world? Alice in Wonderland is a specific book by a definite author with its own quaintness, its own quirks, its own quiddity. If read very carefully, it will be seen to imply, by humorous juxtaposition, the presence of a quite solid, and rather sentimental, world, behind the semi-detached dream. Moreover, Lewis Carroll liked little girls. I don't. The mixture of unreality and illusion may have led some people to consider you mystifying and your writing full of puzzles. What is your answer to people who say you are just plain obscure? To stick to the crossword puzzle in their Sunday paper. Do you make a point of puzzling people and playing games with readers? What a bore that would be! The past figures prominently in some of your writing. What concern do you have...

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Часть текста: и ХХ век. Под ред. Т. А. Касаткиной. В 2 томах. Т. 1. - М.: ИМЛИ РАН, 2007, с. 358-381 «Dostoevsky? Dostoevsky is a very poor writer». «Well», said the student, «isn't he an influential writer?» «Dostoevsky is not an influential writer», Nabokov replied. «He's had no influence». «Достоевский? Достоевский очень плохой писатель». «Но ведь он оказал влияние...», заикнулся было аспирант. «Никакого влияния он не оказал», — ответил Набоков. — «Ни на кого он не повлиял». Разговор Набокова с аспирантом в Америке 1 В «Лекциях по русской литературе», небрежно сбросив со счетов литературное наследство Достоевского в целом, непосредственно перед тем, как перейти к краткому и непрофессиональному разгрому «Преступления и наказания» и других произведений скопом (хоть якобы и в частности), Набоков пишет следующее: «Если книга тебе отвратительна, из неё ещё можно извлечь художественное наслаждение, представив себе, как по-другому или лучше увидеть то, что видишь сам, или же (что то же) как ещё можно выразить то, что выражает нелюбимый тобою автор. <...> Но с таким же содроганием и передергиваньем следует читать и книги, которые любишь. Вот конкретное предложение. Литературу надо разламывать на дольки, разымать, дробить и мять. Тогда в мнущей ладони возникнет её прекрасный запах, а на языке начнёт кататься...

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Часть текста: 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 surrounded in our enlighted era by little slave flowers that can be casually plucked between business and bath as they used to be in the days of the Romans; and we do not, as dignified Orientals did in still more...

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Часть текста: far side of our steep little street presented a peculiar sight. A big black glossy Packard had climbed Miss Opposite’s sloping lawn at an angle from the sidewalk (where a tartan laprobe had dropped in a heap), and stood there, shining in the sun, its doors open like wings, its front wheels deep in evergreen shrubbery. To the anatomical right of this car, on the trim turn of the lawn-slope, an old gentleman with a white mustache, well-dresseddouble-breasted gray suit, polka-dotted bow-tielay supine, his long legs together, like a death-size wax figure. I have to put the impact of an instantaneous vision into a sequence of words; their physical accumulation in the page impairs the actual flash, the sharp unity of impression: Rug-heap, car, old man-doll, Miss O.’s nurse running with a rustle, a half-empty tumbler in her hand, back to the 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...

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Часть текста: Ricks), which includes passages from Housman's technical writings as well as the poems, is an outstanding success. The advantages of that book over this one were that it was wieldy, that it never left the domain of culture and that it showed a side of the writer absent from his verse. The slyly fatalistic persona of the poet made a fascinating contrast with the professor of Latin, who was a doughty if not brutal scrapper, and never split a hair in argument if there was a chance of splitting the person to whom it was attached. When Nabokov wrote in 1947 that his scientific papers 'have no interest whatever for the layman', he was expressing pride as much as melancholy. Any reader would enjoy the passage reprinted here from his novel, The Gift, about the living arrangements of those large blues which have 'concluded a barbaric pact' with ants: 'I saw how an ant, greedily tickling a hind segment of that caterpillar's sluglike little body, forced it to excrete a drop of intoxicant juice, which it swallowed immediately. In compensation, it offered its own larvae as food; it was as if cows gave us Chartreuse and we gave them our infants to eat. ' His prose, though, is impenetrable even when there are touches of the same precise fancy dimly detectable: 'The most conspicuous thing about the upper portion is the presence of a pair of formidable semi-transparent hooks [the subunci or falces of a peculiar shape not found in allied genera], produced from the opposite side of the distally twinned uncus and facing each other in the manner of the stolidly raised fists of two pugilists [of the old school] with the uncus hoods adding a Ku Klux Klan touch to the picture. ' Nabokov's Butterflies is edited and annotated by Brian Boyd, a professor of English (and biographer of Nabokov) and Robert Michael Pyle, a lepidopterist, each...

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