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

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Часть текста: Lo’s deriving some pleasure from me than of my enjoying Lo). The passion I had developed for that nymphetfor the first nymphet in my life that could be reached at last by my awkward, aching, timid clawswould have certainly landed me again in a sanatorium, had not the devil realized that I was to be granted some relief if he wanted to have me as a plaything for some time longer. The reader has also marked the curious Mirage of the Lake. It would have been logical on the part of Aubrey McFate (as I would like to dub that devil of mine) to arrange a small treat for me on the promised beach, in the presumed forest. Actually, the promise Mrs. Haze had made was a fraudulent one: she had not told me that Mary Rose Hamilton (a dark little beauty in her own right) was to come too, and that the two nymphets would be whispering apart, and playing apart, and having a good time all by themselves, while Mrs. Haze and her handsome lodger conversed sedately in the seminude, far from prying eyes. Incidentally, eyes did pry and tongues did wag. How queer life is! We hasten to alienate the very fates we intended to woo. Before my actual arrival, my landlady had planned to have an old spinster, a Miss Phalen, whose mother had been cook in...

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Часть текста: Readeer must understand that in the possession and thralldom of a nymphet the enchanted traveler stands, as it were, beyond happiness. For there is no other bliss on earth comparable to that of fondling a nymphet. It is hors concours , that bliss, it belongs to another class, another plane of sensitivity. Despite our tiffs, despite her nastiness, despite all the fuss and faces she made, and the vulgarity, and the danger, and the horrible hopelessness of it all, I still dwelled deep in my elected paradisea paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flamesbut still a paradise. The able psychiatrist who studies my caseand whom by now Dr. Humbert has plunged, I trust, into a state of leporine fascinationis no doubt anxious to have me take Lolita to the seaside and have me find there, at last, the “gratification” of a lifetime urge, and release from the “subconscious” obsession of an incomplete childhood romance with the initial little Miss Lee. Well, comrade, let me tell you that I did look for a beach, though I also...

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Часть текста: 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...

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Часть текста: seven CHAPTER SEVEN Moscow! Russia's favorite daughter! Where is your equal to be found? Dmitriev How not to love one's native Moscow? Baratïnski “Reviling Moscow! This is what comes from seeing the world! Where is it better, then?” “Where we are not.” Griboedov I Chased by the vernal beams, down the surrounding hills the snows already have run in turbid streams 4 onto the inundated fields. With a serene smile, nature greets through her sleep the morning of the year. Bluing, the heavens shine. 8 The yet transparent woods as if with down are greening. The bee flies from her waxen cell after the tribute of the field. 12 The dales grow dry and varicolored. The herds are noisy, and the nightingale has sung already in the hush of nights. II How sad your apparition is to me, spring, spring, season of love! What a dark stir there is 4 in my soul, in my blood! With what oppressive tenderness I revel in the whiff of spring fanning my face 8 in the lap of the rural stillness! Or is enjoyment strange to me, and all that gladdens, animates, all that exults and gleams, 12 casts spleen and languishment upon a soul long dead and all looks dark to it? III Or gladdened not by the return of leaves that perished in the autumn, a bitter loss we recollect, 4 harking to the new murmur of the woods; or with reanimated nature we compare in troubled thought the withering ...

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Часть текста: Petersburg, Russia, Nabokov's childhood was spent in storybook fashion. The oldest of five children , he grew up in a wealthy and aristocratic family, shuttling between the family's two homes (one in St. Petersburg , and the other - an estate - 50 miles south in the countryside). He enjoyed playing tennis and soccer, but spent hours at a time embroiled in his passion - chasing and collecting butterflies, a hobby he apparently learned from his father . At the time, Russia was under the rule of Tsar Nicholas II, and Nabokov's father, Vladimir Dmitrievich Nabokov , was a respected (and to authorities, controversial) liberal politician. In fact, the elder Nabokov was imprisoned for 90 days in 1908 for signing a political manifesto. Nabokov's mother, Elena Ivanova , raised her three boys and two girls with the help of several governesses and tutors who taught the Nabokov children French and English, along with Russian. At the highly regarded Tenishev School, which Nabokov began attending in 1911, he was described as an aloof, even conceited, student who arrived each day in the family's Rolls-Royce. But Nabokov's dreamy childhood would receive a wake-up call with the Bolshevik revolution and the abdication of Tsar Nicholas II. Rioting forced his family to move, eventually, to England in 1919 where Nabokov and his brother enrolled in Cambridge . Nabokov majored in French and Russian literature. Nabokov in Berlin, 1923 Meanwhile, his father had settled the family in Berlin. But tragedy was waiting - in 1922, Nabokov's father was murdered while trying to stop an assassination attempt on...

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Часть текста: purely and simply unthinkable--in the literal sense of that term. As a late friend of mine liked to say when confronted by a particularly short-sighted variety of seize-the-day hedonist: Life is not a dress rehearsal, true; but neither is it the final act. Ladies and Gentlemen, I have a confession to make: since beginning this book, I have been haunted. By this I do not mean obsessed by my subject, nor beguiled by a dim whiff of literary fame, nor even the victim of an id?e fixe . I mean haunted, from the Old Zemblan heimte : to bring home, pull, fetch, claim. Someone or something has been haunting me: dogging my mental steps, hiding my pencils and note cards, tapping a disembodied fingernail against my cabin’s windowpanes, whispering seductive doom between gusts of March wind and endeavoring in every conceivable way to coax me through the looking glass. I think I know who it is. *** A colleague to whom I had unbosomed myself the morning after a particularly bad night mentioned, later in the conversation and quite offhandedly, that he had a friend (let’s call her LN) in Omaha who had recently consulted a psychic with the aim of contacting her spouse, who had died unexpectedly a few years prior. The psychic in question, a bony Asian lady with the odd name of Madame Fat, claimed to be a “channeler”, i.e. a medium skilled in acting as a conduit for disembodied spirits, including, of course, ...

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Часть текста: 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...

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Часть текста: Защита Лужина или защита Достоевского? Достоевский и ХХ век. Под ред. Т. А. Касаткиной. В 2 томах. Т. 1. - М.: ИМЛИ РАН, 2007, с. 358-381 «Dostoevsky? Dostoevsky is a very poor writer». «Well», said the student, «isn't he an influential writer?» «Dostoevsky is not an influential writer», Nabokov replied. «He's had no influence». «Достоевский? Достоевский очень плохой писатель». «Но ведь он оказал влияние...», заикнулся было аспирант. «Никакого влияния он не оказал», — ответил Набоков. — «Ни на кого он не повлиял». Разговор Набокова с аспирантом в Америке 1 В «Лекциях по русской литературе», небрежно сбросив со счетов литературное наследство Достоевского в целом, непосредственно перед тем, как перейти к краткому и непрофессиональному разгрому «Преступления и наказания» и других произведений скопом (хоть якобы и в частности), Набоков пишет следующее: «Если книга тебе отвратительна, из неё ещё можно извлечь художественное наслаждение, представив себе, как по-другому или лучше увидеть то, что видишь сам, или же (что то же) как ещё можно выразить то, что выражает нелюбимый тобою автор. <...> Но с таким же содроганием и передергиваньем следует читать и книги, которые любишь. Вот конкретное предложение. Литературу надо разламывать на дольки, разымать, дробить и мять. Тогда в мнущей ладони возникнет её прекрасный запах, а на языке начнёт кататься изысканной ягодой её вкус. Только тогда ты оценишь по достоинству и вкусишь её редкостный аромат, и разъятые и раздробленные её дольки вновь воссоединятся в твоём представлении, раскрыв красоту...

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Часть текста: страстью, ускользнули на несколько мгновений в поросший папоротником овраг, где петлял среди высоких зарослей боярышника небольшой ручей. Было душно и жарко, даже на самой крохотной сосенке стрекотала цикада. — Говоря языком героини романа, — сказала Ада, — уж so long, long ago, давным-давно, я не играла здесь в слова, как раньше с Грейс и еще двумя милыми девочками: «весник — инсект — инцест». Тут она в манере спятившей ботанички заметила, что воистину самое удивительное слово — «разоблаченный», так как одновременно включает два взаимоисключающих понятия: «в одежде» и «без одежды» — «раз облаченный» и «разоблаченный», и незачем на мне пояс рвать, ты, дикарь! — Основательно разоблаченный дикарь! — нежно прошептал Ван. Со временем лишь возросла его нежность к существу, которое он сжимал в объятиях, к этому обожаемому существу, чьи движения теперь стали гибче, чьи бедра явнее выгнулись лирой, чью ленту в волосах он уже распустил. Они пристроились на самом краю прозрачной петли ручья, где тот приостанавливал свое течение, подставляя себя под чужой объектив, сам посверкивая своей вспышкой, и с последним толчком Ван поймал настороженность на лице Ады, отразившемся в прозрачной, с бликами, воде. Что-то подобное уже где-то происходило: но не успело из небытия явиться воспоминание — ухо уже опознало шум падения за спиной. Средь острых...

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "TORN"

Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "TORN"