Поиск по творчеству и критике
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Часть текста: стереотипы, и поэтому, рассказывая о своей родословной, он в равной степени не проявлял ни почтения к своему общественному статусу, ни показной скромности. Поскольку его отец ненавидел снобизм и морщился всякий раз, когда разговор заходил о пращурах, «родовое сознание» Набокова, покидавшего в 1917 году Петроград, было весьма неразвитым 3 . Когда год спустя в ялтинской полуэмиграции его двоюродный брат и лучший друг барон Юрий Рауш фон Траубенберг наивно похвастал, что его род берет начало в XII веке, Набоков лишь отшутился в ответ: «Ну а Набоковы? Бывшие лакеи при дворе?» 4 Когда Набоков оказался навсегда отрезанным от своего российского прошлого, и особенно в тот период, когда он ощутил потребность написать автобиографию, он пожалел о том, что в свое время «не проявлял какого-либо любопытства к своей родословной» 5 . В конце 1920-х — начале 1930-х годов в Берлине двоюродный дядя Набокова уверял его в том, что дворянский род Набоковых берет начало в XIV веке от некоего князя — деталь, которую двадцать лет спустя писатель использует в «Убедительном доказательстве»: в шутливых генеалогических изысканиях он назовет среди своих колоритных предков «первого...
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Часть текста: Русские годы» и «Владимир Набоков: Американские годы», а также все посвященные набоковским произведениям критические работы, на которые я ссылаюсь. В Разделе I перечислены архивные, библиотечные и музейные собрания, к которым я обращался; в Разделе II — периодические издания, использованные в ходе работы; в Разделе III — книги и статьи, содержащие информацию о членах семьи Набокова, в особенности о его отце, Владимире Дмитриевиче Набокове, и деде, Дмитрии Николаевиче Набокове; в Разделе IV перечислены произведения Набокова; в Разделе V — книги и статьи, имеющие касательство к биографии Набокова либо цитировавшиеся при анализе его произведений. Дефинитивной библиографией произведений Набокова является работа Майкла Джулиара «Владимир Набоков: описательная библиография» (Vladimir Nabokov: A Descriptive Bibliography. New York: Garland, 1986), к которой журнал «The Nabokovian» ежегодно публикует приложения и дополнения. В том же журнале печатаются дополнения к куда менее подробной библиографии Сэмюэля Шумана, посвященной набоковедческой критике (S. Schuman. Vladimir Nabokov: A Reference Guide. Boston: G. K. Hall, 1979). Новая аннотированная библиография набоковедческой...
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Часть текста: when the former has lived in Our Great Little Town for hardly two years, and the latter for hardly a month; when Monsieur wants to get the whole damned thing over with as quickly as possible, and Madame gives in with a tolerant smile; then, my reader, the wedding is generally a “quiet” affair. The bride may dispense with a tiara of orange blossoms securing her finger-tip veil, nor does she carry a white orchid in a prayer book. The bride’s little daughter might have added to the ceremonies uniting H. and H. a touch of vivid vermeil; but I knew I would not dare be too tender with cornered Lolita yet, and therefore agreed it was not worth while tearing the child away from her beloved Camp Q. My soi-disant passionate and lonely Charlotte was in everyday life matter-of-fact and gregarious. Moreover, I discovered that although she could not control her heart or her cries, she was a woman of principle. Immediately after she had become more or less my mistress (despite the stimulants, her “nervous, eager chri a heroic chri ! had some initial trouble, for which, however, he amply compensated her by a fantastic display of old-world endearments), good Charlotte interviewed me about my relations with God. I could have answered that on that score my mind was open; I said, insteadpaying my tribute to a pious platitudethat I believed in a cosmic spirit. Looking down at her fingernails, she also asked me had I not in my family a certain strange strain. I countered by inquiring whether she would still want to marry me if my father’s maternal grandfather had been, say, a Turk. She said it did not matter a bit; but that, if she ever found out I did not believe in Our Christian God, she would commit suicide. She said it so solemnly that it gave me the creeps. It was then I knew she was a woman of principle. Oh, she was very genteel: she said “excuse...
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Часть текста: 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 metaphysics and painful autobiography to what must be his own entirely irrelevant fantasy—unless he really is Charles the Beloved, the deposed King of Zembla; and that unless unlocks only the first in a series of secret passages. From the dedication copy of Pale Fire, inscribed by Nabokov for his wife Vera. Image from Vera's Butterflies (NY: Glenn Horowitz Bookseller, 1999). Courtesy the Estate of Vladimir Nabokov. Has...
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Часть текста: человека, занятого воссозданием потерянной России и относительно равнодушного к английскому окружению. [1] Большинство его друзей в Кембридже были русскими эмигрантами. Молодой Набоков считал себя русским поэтом, и поэзии суждено было стать его основным занятием во время пребывания в Кембридже. Уже являясь автором двух сборников, опубликованных в России, [2] он написал много новых стихотворений во время 16-месячного изгнания в Крыму. Ностальгическое воссоздание «своей» России является самой распространенной темой его стихотворений 1918–1922 годов. Набокова настолько поглотило творчество, что для Англии и Кембриджа оставалось мало эмоциональной энергии. Первый биограф Набокова, Эндрю Филд, приводит его слова, в которых он описывает свои годы в Кембридже как «длинную череду неловкостей, ошибок и всякого рода неудач и глупостей, включая романтические». [3] В «Память, говори» автор даже настаивает на том, что кембриджские годы оставили в его душе «отпечаток столь незначительный, что продолжать его описание было бы просто скучно». [4] Понимая все величие истории Кембриджа, молодой поэт «был совершенно уверен, что Кембридж никак не действует» (IV, 548) на его душу. Позднее Набоков смягчает это высказывание, признавая, что «Кембридж снабжал меня и мое русское раздумье не только рамой, но и красками, и внутренним ритмом» (IV, 548). Только к концу своего трехлетнего пребывания там, завершив свою реконструкцию России, Набоков почувствовал некую привязанность к окружавшей...
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Часть текста: 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, established a weather station on Pierre Point in Melville Sound. Another group, equally misguided, collected plankton. A third studied tuberculosis in the tundra. Bert, a film photographeran insecure fellow with whom at one time I was made to partake in a good deal of menial work (he, too, had some psychic troubles)maintained that the big men on our team, the real leaders we never saw, were mainly engaged in checking the ...
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Часть текста: too flat for holding my bulky chessmen, but I kept itusing it for a totally different purpose. In order to break some pattern of fate in which I obscurely felt myself being enmeshed, I had decideddespite Lo’s visible annoyanceto spend another night at Chestnut Court; definitely waking up at four in the morning, I ascertained that Lo was still sound asleep (mouth open, 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...
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Часть текста: w [1972] Israel Shenker sent me his questions on June 10, 1971, three weeks before coming to see me here in Montreux. My written answers were accurately reproduced in The New York Times Book Review, January 9, 1972. Their presentation would have been perfect had they not been interspersed with unnecessary embellishment (chitchat about living writers, for instance). What do you do to prepare yourself for the ordeals of life? Shave every morning before bath and breakfast so as to be ready to fly far at short notice. What are the literary virtues you seek to attain-- and how? Mustering the best words, with every available lexical, associative, and rhythmic assistance, to express as closely as possible what one wants to express. What are the literary sins for which you could be answerable some day-- and bow would you defend yourself? Of having spared in my books too many political fools and intellectual frauds among my acquaintances. Of having been too fastidious in choosing my targets. What is your position in the world of letters? Jolly good view from up here. What problems are posed for you by the existence of ego? A linguistic problem: the singular act of mimetic evolution to which we owe the fact that in Russian the word ego means "his," "him." What struggles these days for pride of place in your...
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Часть текста: 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 charm about that mythical nymphet. Though many readers and reviewers would disagree that her charm is tender, few would deny that it is queer-- so much so that when director Stanley Kubrick proposed his plan to make a movie of Lolita, you were quoted as saying, "Of course they'll have to change the plot. Perhaps they will make Lolita a dwarfess. Or they will make her 16 and Humbert 26. " Though you finally wrote the screenplay yourself, several reviewers took the film to task for watering down the central...
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Часть текста: 27 23 I rushed out. The 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...