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Часть текста: Two An Insipid Incipit "Vypriast' pfunt shersti poleznee nezheli napisat' roman." - I.A. Balda Vladimir Nabokov was born. This much, at least, I can deduce from the fact of his having lived. To say more so soon would be unnecessarily audacious, and to say less would be to say, almost, nothing. Unless, perhaps, I might emend my first choice thus: Vladimir Nabokov was. Voilà . I think it would be impossible to improve upon that. If it were up to me rather than to my editor, this chapter, like a painter's preliminary sketch, would be a sort of ébauche , in broad washes of reddish brown and black, or mauve and ivory, of the tableau to follow. Think of the synopses at the head of each Canto in the Harvard Classics edition of Dante's Divine Comedy . Thus, we would have: Void -- Birth of Nabokov -- Infancy and boyhood in Russia -- School years -- First poems -- Expatriation -- Cambridge -- Berlin -- Friends and associates -- Early works -- Maturity -- Madness -- Death -- Etc., etc.... Such a format has the advantage of giving the reader, and, truth be told, the author, umbratic foreglimpses of what is to come. Its principal drawback is its implication that the life lived was lived simply and linearly with a sort of storybook neatness about the whole. But life is neither simple nor neat, and, moreover, Nabokov is an outstanding example of Robert Musil's personality ohne Eigenschaften . He was a remarkable man who lived an unremarkable life, but unremarkable only in the popularly understood sense of being unmarked by those melodramatic ups and downs, such as tempestuous affairs with perverse poodle-trimmers or repeated suicide attempts, of which the reading public (whatever that is) is so fond. Even his paraphilia, so pregnant with the possibility of melodrama, is ultimately dreary and bears none of the glamour we associate with say, Charles Dodgson or Vincent Van Gogh. I say at the outset: Vladimir Nabokov's life...
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Часть текста: свой страшный замысел и его литературное воплощение как истинное произведение искусства, хотя его план примитивен, а рассказ о нем пестрит отголосками темы двойника из русской классики. {9} В качестве сквозного символа романа Набоков выбрал вполне традиционный образ — зеркало. Более тонкое сплетение темы, сюжета и лейтмотива можно найти в романе «Камера обскура»: главный герой этого романа, не отличающийся проницательностью знаток живописи, мечтает оживить работы старых мастеров с помощью мультипликации. Его брак и вся жизнь рушатся, когда, в результате связи с корыстолюбивой девчонкой, помешанной на том, чтобы стать киноактрисой, он теряет зрение в автокатастрофе. Намеренно избитый сюжет книги воплощается с помощью техники кинематографа, вероятно, выступающего здесь в качестве тематической метафоры искаженного восприятия. Здесь Набоков снова вводит мотив, который резонирует с темой и сюжетом — рамы: дверные и оконные рамы, рамы зеркал и картин, иначе говоря, объектив камеры обскуры, сквозь который зритель следит за развитием истории. В первом зрелом романе Набокова «Защита Лужина» гроссмейстер Лужин...
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Часть текста: steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, a certain initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for 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...
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Часть текста: на мысль, что он — таинственный гость из-за Золотого Занавеса, — версию весьма правдоподобную, усиленную тем обстоятельством, что чуть ли не шестеро из состава только что (а именно: накануне Крымской войны) прибывшей из Татарии труппы «Цирк Доброй Воли» — три танцорки, старый больной клоун со своим старым говорящим козлом, а также муж одной из танцорок, гример (вне сомнения, агент разнообразных служб), — уже успели переметнуться на сторону противника куда-то между Францией и Англией в район только что проложенного «Канала». Головокружительный успех Маскодагамы в клубе театралов, интерес которых до сих пор ограничивался пьесками елизаветинской эпохи, где смазливые мальчики исполняют роли королев и эльфов, прежде всего в высшей степени возбудил карикатуристов. Борзые юмористы принялись изображать маскодагамами глав университетов, местных политиков, государственных деятелей, а также, разумеется, нынешнего правителя Золотой Орды. Один переусердствовавший имитатор (кстати, Маскодагама собственной персоной,...
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Часть текста: 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 show girl. The town was newly built, or rebuilt, on the flat floor of a seven-thousand-foot-high valley; it would soon bore Lo, I hoped, and we would spin on to California, to the Mexican border, to mythical bays, saguaro desserts,...