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

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Часть текста: with me! Allow me to take just a tiny bit of your precious time. So this was le grand moment. I had left my Lolita still sitting on the edge of the abysmal bed, drowsily raising her foot, fumbling at the shoelaces and showing as she did so the nether side of her thigh up to the crotch of her pantiesshe had always been singularly absentminded, or shameless, or both, in matters of legshow. This, then, was the hermetic vision of her which I had locked inafter satisfying myself that the door carried no inside bolt. The key, with its numbered dangler of carved wood, became forthwith the weighty sesame to a rapturous and formidable future. It was mine, it was part of my hot hairy fist. In a few minutessay, twenty, say half-an-hour, sicher its sicher 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...

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Часть текста: общих чертах обозначат их сходство и различие. Среди русского поэтического наследия я избрал в качестве образца произведения нашего величайшего поэта Пушкина. Различия между его четырехстопным ямбом и этим же стихотворным размером у других мастеров, крупных и менее видных, носят частный, а не общий характер. Русская просодия, родившаяся лишь двести лет тому назад, в общем, довольно хорошо изучена русскими исследователями, ими были созданы небезынтересные работы на материале «Евгения Онегина». Английское же стихотворное наследие, колоссальное по объему и известное своей многовековой традицией, не получило еще должного описания. Специально я этим вопросом не интересовался, но, насколько помню, мне не встречалось ни одной работы, в которой английский ямб — и, в частности, четырехстопный — был бы систематизирован и описан на основе сравнительного литературоведения, чтобы хоть как-то удовлетворить лиц, занимающихся изучением просодии. Если мне и случалось читать об английской просодии, то я тотчас же откладывал в сторону эти работы, стоило мне встретить в них нагромождения музыкальных нот или нелепые примеры организации строф, не имеющие ничего общего со структурой стиха. Другие работы с путаными рассуждениями о «долготе» и «краткости», «количестве» и «эквивалентности» не только изобилуют обычными нелепостями или субъективными заблуждениями, но и не дают сколь-либо систематического представления о модуляциях ямба, ограничиваясь утомительными рассуждениями об «апострофизации», «заменах стоп», «спондеях» и так далее. Поэтому мне пришлось разработать собственную несложную и краткую терминологию, объяснить ее применение к...

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Часть текста: if he wished to make a laud for one, ranged in thought [like the nightingale] over the tree; like the gray wolf across land; like the smoky eagle up to the clouds. For as he recalled, said he, the feuds of initial times, "He set ten falcons upon a flock of swans, and the one first overtaken, sang a song first"- to Yaroslav of yore, and to brave Mstislav who slew Rededya before the Kasog troops, and to fair Roman son of Svyatoslav. To be sure, brothers, Boyan did not [really] set ten falcons upon a flock of swans: his own vatic fingers he laid on the live strings, which then twanged out by themselves a paean to princes. So let us begin, brothers, this tale- from Vladimir of yore to nowadays Igor. who girded his mind with fortitude, and sharpened his heart with manliness; [thus] imbued with the spirit of arms, he led his brave troops against the Kuman land in the name of the Russian land. Boyan apostrophized O Boyan, nigh tingale of the times of old! If you were to trill [your praise of] these troops, while hopping, nightingale, over the tre e of thought; [if you were] flying in mind up to the clouds; [if] weaving paeans around these times, [you were] roving the Troyan Trail, across fields onto hills; then the song to be sung of Igor, that grandson of Oleg [, would be]: "No storm has swept falcons across wide fields; flocks of daws flee toward the Great Don"; or you might intone thus, vatic Boyan, grandson of Veles: "Steeds neigh...

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Часть текста: 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 completely on your own”; ...

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Часть текста: furrows, a bold kibitka flies: the driver sits upon his box 8 in sheepskin coat, red-sashed. Here runs about a household lad, upon a hand sled having seated “blackie,” having transformed himself into the steed; 12 the scamp already has frozen a finger. He finds it both painful and funny — while his mother, from the window, threatens him... III But, maybe, pictures of this kind will not attract you; all this is lowly nature; 4 there is not much refinement here. Warmed by the god of inspiration, another poet in luxurious language for us has painted the first snow 8 and all the shades of winter's delectations. 27 He'll captivate you, I am sure of it, when he depicts in flaming verses secret promenades in sleigh; 12 but I have no intention of contending either with him at present or with you, singer of the young Finnish Maid! 28 IV Tatiana (being Russian at heart, herself not knowing why) loved, in all its cold beauty, 4 a Russian winter: rime in the sun upon a frosty day, and sleighs, and, at late dawn, the radiance of the rosy snows, 8 and gloam of Twelfthtide eves. Those evenings in the ancient fashion were celebrated in their house: the servant girls from the whole stead 12 told their young ladies' fortunes and every year made prophecies to them of military husbands and the march. V Tatiana credited the lore of plain-folk ancientry, dreams, cartomancy, 4 prognostications by the moon. Portents disturbed her: mysteriously all objects foretold her...

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Часть текста: 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 ...

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Часть текста: Nabokov's plays because they embody, in concentrated form, many of his principal guidelines for writing, reading, and performing plays. The reader is urged to bear in mind, however, that, later in life, Father might have expressed certain thoughts differently. The lectures were partly in typescript and partly in manuscript, replete with Nabokov's corrections, additions, deletions, occasional slips of the pen, and references to previous and subsequent installments of the course. I have limited myself to what editing seemed necessary for the presentation of the lectures in essay form. If Nabokov had been alive, he might perhaps have performed more radical surgery. He might also have added that the gruesome throes of realistic suicide he finds unacceptable onstage (in "The Tragedy of Tragedy") are now everyday fare on kiddies' TV, while "adult" entertainment has long since outdone all the goriness of the Grand Guignol. He might have observed that the aberrations of theatrical method...

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Часть текста: с обеих сторон улицы. Я смотрю, как они заполняются холодной ртутью. Дождевая ртуть поднимается всё выше и переливается через край. С непокрытой головой плавают вдалеке фонари, их лучи беспрерывно протянулись в дождливый сумрак. Вода в бадьях продолжает переливаться через край. Итак, я погружаюсь в твои пасмурные глаза, в мерцающую черноту узких аллей, где журчит и шелестит ночной дождь. Улыбнись мне. Почему ты смотришь на меня так пасмурно и мрачно. Теперь утро. Всю ночь звёзды пронзительно кричали детскими голосами, и, кто-то на крыше терзал и ласкал скрипку острым смычком. Смотри, солнце перевалилось через стену, словно сияющий парусник. Ты выдыхаешь туманом всё обволакивающий дым. Пылинки начинают кружиться в твоих глазах, миллионы золотых миров. Ты улыбнулась! Мы выходим на балкон. Весна. Внизу, посреди улицы, жёлто-кудрявый малыш быстро-быстро рисует бога. Бог растянулся от одной стороны улицы до другой. Малыш сжимает в руке кусок мела, маленький кусок белого угольного карандаша, и сидя на корточках, поворачивается, вычерчивая широкую линию. У этого белого бога большие белые пуговицы и развёрнутые наружу ступни. Распятый...

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Часть текста: обнаруживаемые в словах земблянского языка, указывают на тему мести за убийство родственника; развитие английского языка в «Бледном огне» увязано со смертью отца Набокова. Английская история, отраженная в романе, начинается с короля Альфреда; следующее по времени историческое событие, выделяемое Набоковым, — это английская революция. Кинбот идентифицируется с королем Карлом II Английским, который был вынужден удалиться в изгнание, но впоследствии вернул себе трон. Он увлечен образом Карла II потому, что сам мнит себя свергнутым королем. Его не интересуют ни причины революции Кромвеля, ни то обстоятельство, что Кромвель казнил Карла I. Однако и здесь навязчивая идея Кинбота скрывает значимый для самого Набокова смысл: отсылки к английской Реставрации в «Бледном огне» — это своего рода способ раскрыть политическое измерение темы гибели Владимира Дмитриевича Набокова от руки убийцы. Как мы уже отмечали в предисловии, характер гибели Джона Шейда, воспринятой Кинботом в качестве неудачной попытки цареубийства, напоминает о том, что отец Набокова пал случайной жертвой политического убийства. Кинбот считает, что убийца Шейда также целил в другого: воспринимая все происходящее с ним в контексте земблянской политики, он отказывается поверить в то, что убийцей был беглый...

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Часть текста: Certainly the comments (solicited or not) of many persons have guided me in perfecting my book, but only insofar as they served as signposts of exactly the type of tired tripe I wished to avoid. The most common of these was a chilly "You can't do that," as if my book were violating some immemorial cosmic law. For all their carping about institutional constraints on the freedom of their thought and work, my fellow academicians (and even many of you, self-styled "Nabokovians") have revealed themselves to be virulently censorial when confronted by the weird fruit of my research. Few things are more depressing to an intelligent person than the revelation that a whole league of supposedly enlightened literati is in fact a mob of petulant nitwits. Chapter One On Visiting Nabokov's Tomb "Biography is a form of murder." -- J. Tenier The cemetery of the Centre Funéraire St. Martin is bordered on three sides by a tall wrought-iron fence (whose black bars are spaced widely enough to permit the passage of a small child) and on the fourth by a pine and birch forest which extends over the summit of the hill and descends to meet the right bank of Lac Léman six and a half...

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "RING"

Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "RING"