Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "LAVENDER"
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Входимость: 1. Размер: 57кб.
Часть текста: turned out to belong to the glossily browned pine-log kind that Lolita used to be so fond of in the days of our carefree first journey; oh, how different things were now! I am not referring to Trapp or Trapps. After allwell, really… After all, gentlemen, it was becoming abundantly clear that all those identical detectives in prismatically changing cars were figments of my persecution mania, recurrent images based on coincidence and chance resemblance. Soyons logiques , crowed the cocky Gallic part of my brainand proceeded to rout the notion of a Lolita-maddened salesman or comedy gangster, with stooges, persecuting me, and hoaxing me, and otherwise taking riotous advantage of my strange relations with the law. I remember humming my panic away. I remember evolving even an explanation of the “Birdsley” telephone call… But if I could dismiss Trapp, as I had dismissed my convulsions on the lawn at Champion, I could do nothing with the anguish of knowing Lolita to be so tantalizingly, so miserably unattainable and beloved on the very even of a new era, when my alembics told me she should stop being a nymphet, stop torturing me. An additional, abominable, and perfectly gratuitous worry was lovingly prepared for me in Elphinstone. Lo had been dull and silent during the last laptwo hundred mountainous miles uncontaminated by smoke-gray sleuths or zigzagging zanies. She hardly glanced at the famous, oddly shaped, splendidly flushed rock which jutted above the mountains and had been the take-off for nirvana on the part of a temperamental...
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Часть текста: - чешуекрылые, или бабочки) [1, с. 28-36; 3, с. 75; 4, с. 63; 7, с. 87; 10, с. 11-14]. Об открытой и описанной им в научной литературе бабочке он сочинил на английском языке стихотворение «On Discovering a Butterfly» («Об открытии бабочки»), которое в последующем публиковалось под более коротким названием - «A Discovery» («Открытие»). Произведение было написано в начале декабря 1942 г., когда Набоков ехал в поезде из Нью-Йорка в Вашингтон. Считается, что стихотворение повторяет ритм движущегося железнодорожного вагона. Впервые оно было опубликовано в популярном американском еженедельнике «Нью-Йоркер» 15 мая 1943 г. Приведем полный текст стихотворения [7, c. 273-274]: A Discovery I found it in a legendary land all rocks and lavender and tufted grass, where it was settled on some sodden sand hard by the torrent of a mountain pass. The features it combines mark it as new to science: shape and shade - the special tinge, akin to moonlight, tempering its blue, the dingy underside, the chequered fringe. My needles have teased out its sculptured sex; corroded tissues could no longer hide that priceless mote now dimpling the convex and limpid teardrop on a lighted slide. Smoothly a screw is turned; out of the mist two ambered hooks symmetrically slope, or scales like battledores of amethyst cross the charmed circle of the microscope. I found it and I named it, being versed in taxonomic Latin; thus became godfather to an insect and its first describer - and I want no other fame. Wide open on its pin (though fast asleep), and safe from creeping relatives and rust, in the secluded stronghold where we keep type specimens it will transcend its dust. Dark pictures, thrones, the stones...
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Часть текста: черты, автор дал специальность энтомолога, и Константин Кириллович Годунов-Чердынцев выписан в освещении родственной любви, уважения и восхищения. Проза Набокова полна бабочек. Со страстью коллекционера можно собирать не самих бабочек, но их упоминания в набоковской прозе — этим даже занимались, и вполне успешно. Мелкие твари живут на набоковских страницах, если не в прямом описании, то в уподоблении людей этим созданиям. Гумберт Гумберт уподобляет себя пауку, следящему за мухой, — кто же тогда Набоков, написавший исповедь светлокожего вдовца? Набоков, конечно, энтомолог, натуралист, описывающий жизнь еще неведомых науке форм. Герои романа «Пнин», глядя на изящных бабочек, жалеют, что рядом с ними нет Набокова. «Десятка два маленьких бабочек, все одного вида, сидели на мокром песке, подняв и сложив крылья, бледные с испода, с темными точками и крошечными, с оранжевой каемкой, павлиньими лунками по кромке заднего крыла; одна из скинутых Пниным галош спугнула несколько из них...
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Часть текста: who wanted to search the small velvet purse I had secreted on my person, discovered during a summary patdown after I had been unable to respond satisfactorily to questions simple for a private citizen but p?nibles , as the French say, for an exiled king. My attempts to stoop, and to scrape, and my hastily concocted disguise (Zemblan-born French scholar)--tweedy jacket with worn leather patches on the elbows, hand-carved pipe stuffed with lavender-scented tobacco--were apparently unsuccessful in completely masking the sheen of royalty I was accustomed to exuding. Yes, they found the jewels, but that is a tale for another time. I was met at the station by an envoy, if that's not too grand a word, from the university, whom I did not immediately recognize despite the rectangle of cardstock he held chest-high with my adopted moniker carefully lettered on it. He was so young I looked right past him, toward an elderly gentleman in a dark uniform who corresponded to the mental image of natty chauffeur I had formed during the crossing. When I accosted him with a question and a questioning expression, he shook his head and stared past me, as if I weren't there. I gathered from his stony rebuff that I was only one in a series of persons to have mistaken him for their driver. Looking around, I spotted the person I had previously missed, and marveled at my having missed not only my new name, prominently displayed, but at my having failed to notice and acknowledge such an attractive youth. The blond lock covering his forehead almost obscured his electric blue eyes. He wore a very long, very shaggy overcoat of sorts, unbuttoned, and a crisp light blue oxford shirt, the tails of which were tucked into incongruously...