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Cлово "NAIVE"
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Входимость: 2. Размер: 53кб.
Часть текста: 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 her subsists within the hollows and dells of memory, over which, if you can still stand my style (I am writing under observation), the sun of my infancy had set: surely, you all know those redolent remnants of day suspended, with the midges, about some hedge in bloom or suddenly entered and traversed by the rambler, at the bottom of a hill, in the summer dusk; a furry warmth, golden midges. My mother’s elder sister, Sybil, whom a cousin of my father’s had married and then neglected, served in my immediate family as a kind of unpaid governess and housekeeper. Somebody told me later that she had been in love with my father, and that he had lightheartedly taken advantage of it one rainy day and forgotten it by the time the weather cleared. I was extremely fond of her, despite the rigiditythe fatal...
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Часть текста: Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin Chapter two CHAPTER TWO O rus! Horace O Rus'! I The country place where Eugene moped was a charming nook; a friend of innocent delights 4 might have blessed heaven there. The manor house, secluded, screened from the winds by a hill, stood above a river; in the distance, 8 before it, freaked and flowered, lay meadows and golden grainfields; one could glimpse hamlets here and there; herds roamed the meadows; 12 and 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...
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Часть текста: иль порывы И запоздалые отзывы, — Смиренные не без труда, 8 Мы любим слушать иногда Страстей чужих язык мятежный, И нам он сердце шевелит. Так точно старый инвалид 12 Охотно клонит слух прилежный Рассказам юных усачей, Забытый в хижине своей. 5 Установленное чтение: «Их своевольство, иль порывы», но я почти уверен, что «иль» — опечатка, здесь должно быть второе «их»: «Их своевольство, их порывы» {55} . 11 …Инвалид… — военный инвалид. 11—14 Рукопись четырехстопного стихотворения из сорока четырех стихов, написанного в сентябре 1821 г. и обращенного к «[Николаю] Алексееву», доброму знакомому Пушкина по Кишиневу, в котором поднимаются те же темы, что и в гл. 2, XVIII, содержит среди прочих отвергнутых строк следующие: Вдали штыков и барабанов Так точно старый инвалид — Встречает молодых уланов И им о битвах говорит. Пушкинское (отвергнутое) примечание к этой строфе (в черновике примечаний к изданию 1833 г. — ПД, 172) звучит так: Et je ressemble au vieux guerrier Qui rencontre ses frères d'armes Et leur parle encore du métier. [392] Пушкин не называет имени автора этих стихов, и кроме того, либо он сам, либо переписчики (я не видел автограф) написали слово «encore» не так, как в оригинале, — оно не скандируется. Я обнаружил, что цитата взята из начала стихотворения Парни «Взгляд на Киферу» («Coup d'oeil sur Cythère», 1787; в издании 1802 г. напечатанном под названием «Radotage à mes amis» —...
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Часть текста: (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 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 ...
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Часть текста: must be things that move you-- likes and dislikes. My loathings are simple: stupidity, oppression, crime, cruelty, soft music. My pleasures are the most intense known to man: writing and butterfly hunting. You write everything in longhand, don't you? Yes. I cannot type. Would you agree to show us a sample of your rough drafts? I'm afraid I must refuse. Only ambitious nonentities and hearty mediocrities exhibit their rough drafts. It is like passing around samples of one's sputum. Do you read many new novels? Why do you laugh? I laugh because well-meaning publishers keep sending me-- with "hope-you-will-like-it-as-much-as-we-do" letters - only one kind of fiction: novels truffled with obscenities, fancy words, and would-be weird incidents. They seem to be all by one and the same writer-- who is not even the shadow of my shadow. What is your opinion of the so-called "anti-novel" in France? I am not interested in groups, movements, schools of writing and so forth. I am interested only in the individual artist. This "anti-novel" does not really exist; but there does exist one great French writer, Robbe-Grillet; his work is grotesquely imitated by a number of banal scribblers whom a phony label assists commercially. I notice you "haw" and "er"a great deal. Is it a sign of approaching senility? Not at all. I have always been a wretched speaker. My vocabulary dwells deep in my mind and needs paper to wriggle out into the physical zone. Spontaneous eloquence seems to me a miracle. I have rewritten-- often several...
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Часть текста: Actually, my contribution as printed conforms meticulously to the answers, every word of which I had written in longhand before having them typed for submission to Toffler when he came to Montreux in mid-March, 1963. The present text takes into account the order of my interviewer's questions as well as the fact that a couple of consecutive pages of my typescript were apparently lost in transit. Egreto perambis doribus! With the American publication of Lolita in 1958, your fame and fortune mushroomed almost overnight from high repute among the literary cognoscenti-- which you bad enjoyed for more than 30 years-- to both acclaim and abuse as the world-renowned author of a sensational bestseller. In the aftermath of this cause celebre, do you ever regret having written Lolita? On the contrary, I shudder retrospectively when I recall that there was a moment, in 1950, and again in 1951, when I was on the point of burning Humbert Humbert's little black diary. No, I shall never regret Lolita. She was like the composition of a beautiful puzzle-- its composition and its solution at the same time, since one is a mirror view of the other, depending on the way you look. Of course she completely eclipsed my other works-- at least those I wrote in English: The Real Life of Sebastian Knight, Bend Sinister, my short stories, my book of recollections; but I cannot grudge her this. There is a queer, tender...
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Часть текста: Zoology, Harvard, which had been taken in the vicinity of Telluride half a century ago. L. sublivens is an isolated southern representative (the only known one south of northwestern Wyoming, southeast of Idaho, and east of California) of the species (the holarctic argyrognomon Berg str.=idas auct.) to which anna Edw., scudderi Edw., aster Edw., and six other nearctic subspecies belong. I bungled my family's vacation but got what I wanted. Owing to rains and floods, especially noticeable in Kansas, most of the drive from New York State to Colorado was entomologically uneventful. When reached at last, Telluride turned out to be a damp, unfrequented, but very spectacular cul-de-sac (which a prodigious rainbow straddied every evening) at the end of two converging roads, one from Placerville, the other from Dolores, both atrocious. There is one motel, the optimistic and excellent Valley View Court where my wife and I stayed, at 9,000 feet altitude, from the 3rd to the 29th of July, walking up...
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Часть текста: вокруг которого стали мелькать ржавые мечи и щиты 30-летней давности. Обидевшись, я перечитал “Лолиту” — и обнаружил в ней поразительный арсенал средств для артикуляции моего смутного недоверия к афере Дютру. Пиши Набоков “Лолиту” сегодня, Долорес Гейз и ее товарки по семейству нимфеток не только бегали бы по парку или играли в теннис, но, несомненно, катались бы на скейт-бордах, на этих уютных челноках- челенджерах, на этих маленьких челенджах-пощечинах скоростным вкусам большого города, на этих лодках одиночества, этих крошечных мустангах, колыбельках трения, на этих мини-локомотивах, на которых одновременно стоишь и мчишься прямиком на Дикий Запад. Папа-Гумочка заботливо кричал бы, перемешивая, как всегда, свой переведенный на русский английский с оставленным непереведенным, как бы неконвертируемым, французским, этим знаком Старого Света и старорежимного стыдливого либертинажа: “Лола! Ты забыла proteges-tibias^! Protege-тебя!” Чтобы сойти за правдоподобного папу 90-х годов, Гумберт должен был бы защищать- оберегать свою дочку-наложницу не только от прыщавых одноклассников, но и от неловкого падения со скейт-борда (этого чемпиона детского травматизма), наркотиков, спида, повседневной делинквентности, феминистского террора и, конечно, от...
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Часть текста: Эта старинная русская форма, придающая некую условность сравнительной степени «короче» от «короткий», подразумевает здесь мысль: «так близко, как только могут позволить обстоятельства». 5 Они сошлись. Это двусмысленно: «сойтись» может значить либо «встретиться», либо «стать неразлучным целым». (Остальная часть строфы в таком случае либо развитие темы, либо повторение). 5–7 Действительно, темперамент Ленского, та философская меланхолия, которую Марджери Бейли в отношении «Времен года» Томсона (см. вступление к ее изданию [1928] «Гипохондрика» Босуэлла) прекрасно определила как «своего рода бурное, открытое сострадание к прошлым бедам других», ведущее к «мистической любви к человечеству, природе, Богу, славе, добродетели, отечеству и проч.», — на самом деле всего лишь разновидность того же Меланхолического Безумия, которое у Онегина приобретает форму байронической тоски — и русской «хандры» (см. также X, 7 и др.). В обеих беловых рукописях «волна и камень» заменены на «заря и полночь». 13–14 Нет, Пушкин не был «первым». Ср.: «…в безделье люди ...
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Часть текста: of descriptive matter (but none of the latter material may be ascribed to me). Unprepared remarks, quips, etc., may come from me during the actual colloquy but may nut be published without my approval. The article will be shown to me before publication so as to avoid factual errors {e. g., in names, dates, etc.). Mr. Oakes' article appeared in The Sunday Times on June 22, 1969. As a distinguished entomologist and novelist do you find that your two main preoccupations condition, restrict, or refine your view of the world? What world? Whose world? If we mean the average world of the average newspaper reader in Liverpool, Livorno, or Vilno, then we are dealing in trivial generalities. If, on the other hand, an artist invents his own world, as I think I do, then how can he be said to influence his own understanding of what he has created himself? As soon as we start defining such terms as "the writer," "the world," "the novel," and so on, we slip into a solipsismal abyss where general ideas dissolve. As to butterflies-- well, my taxonomic papers on lepidoptera were published mainly in the nineteen forties, and can be of interest to only a few specialists in certain groups of American butterflies. In itself, an aurelian's passion is not a particularly unusual sickness; but it stands outside the limits of a novelist's world, and I can prove this by the fact that whenever I allude to butterflies in my novels, no matter how diligently I rework the stuff, it remains pale and false and does not really express what I want it to express-- what, indeed, it can only express in the special scientific terms...