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Часть текста: Двуязычная практика О body swayed to music, o brightening glance, How can we know the dancer from the dance? W. B. Yeats. Among School Children Владимир Набоков однажды сказал, что «главное в биографии писателя — не рассказ о его приключениях, а история развития его стиля». [1] В случае самого Набокова у этой истории есть два варианта — русский и английский, и всякий, кто хочет рассказать эту историю, должен быть готов объяснить оба варианта, охарактеризовав не только их свойства по отдельности, но и их взаимосвязь. Конечно, из-за величины творческого наследия Набокова на обоих языках, множества произведений художественной и документальной прозы, поэтических произведений, а также автопереводов и переводов произведений других авторов, то есть всего, созданного Набоковым с 1923 года до его смерти в 1977 году, любое исследование его стиля натолкнется на лингвистические, текстологические и эстетические вопросы необычайной сложности. [2] Возможно, единственный выход в условиях ограниченного объема данной статьи — обобщающее сокращение; в данном случае замещение творчества писателя одним репрезентативным текстом, охватывающим два языка, и анализ существенно важного аспекта этого текста на конкретных примерах. Текст, выбранный мною, — автобиографический диптих «Speak, Memory»/ «Другие берега», а стилистический аспект, который я собираюсь рассматривать, — образование звуковых повторов, или инструментовка. [3] Автобиография Набокова представляется произведением репрезентативным и даже парадигматическим по двум главным причинам. Первая причина заключается именно в том, что речь идет об автобиографии, которая как произведение документальной прозы претендует на достоверное, хотя и очень сложное, изображение самого автора. Это означает, что любой вывод о стиле данного произведения будет относиться не только к рассказчику, сформированному внутри текста в качестве...
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Часть текста: 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 expenses and in the other a whole array of fruit liqueurs, pitchers of eau-de-pomme, 12 and the calendar for eighteen-eight: having a lot to do, the old man never looked into any other books. IV Alone midst his possessions, merely to while away the time, at first conceived the plan our Eugene 4 of...
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Часть текста: 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 taken for granted, when I first met her, that she was as unravished as the stereotypical notion of “normal child” had been...
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Часть текста: «Благословенъ и тмы приходъ! 1 на случай [= случайно]. «Стихи на случай сохранились». Пушкин не сохранял их так «свято», как он хранил письмо Татьяны (см. коммент. к главе Третьей, XXXI, 1–4). 3 Куда, куда вы удалились. Я предпочел бы повторить возглас, так часто слышимый в английской поэзии семнадцатого и восемнадцатого веков: Джон Коллоп, «Дух, Плоть» (1656): Куда? ах, куда летит моя душа… Томас Флетчер (1692): Куда, любящая душа, ах, куда ты полетишь? Поуп, переделка стихотворения императора Адриана «Душа моя, скиталица…», строка 5: Куда, ах, куда, ты устремляешь свой полет! (В 1713 г. Поуп послал Джону Кэриллу два перевода произведения Адриана; именно во втором из них, начинающемся «Ах, быстро улетающий дух!» и озаглавленном «То же самое другой рукой» — вероятно, другой рукой Поупа, — встречается это «куда»). Джеймс Битти, «Ода к Надежде» (ок. 1760 г.), строка 78: Куда, ах, куда вы мчитесь? Анна Легация Барбо, «Жизнь» (ок. 1811 г.): О, куда, куда...
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Часть текста: bits 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 of my entomological papers. The butterfly that lives forever on its...
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Часть текста: Elphinstone, turned out to belong to the glossily browned pine-log 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...
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Часть текста: их так же «свято», как письмо Татьяны (см. гл. 3, XXXI, 1–4). На случай — случайно. 3 Куда, куда вы удалились… — <…> Я предпочел использовать в переводе восклицание, столь часто встречающееся в английской поэзии XVII–XVIII вв.: Джон Коллоп, «Дух, Плоть» (1656): Whither? ah, whither flies my soul… (Куда? ax, куда улетает моя душа…) Томас Флетчер (1692): Whither fond soul, ah, whither wouldst thou fly? (Куда, любимая душа, ax, куда ты полетишь?) Поуп, переложение «Animula vagula blandula» [687] императора Адриана, стих 5: Whither, ah whither art thou flying! (Куда, ax куда ты улетаешь!) (В 1713 г. Поуп отослал Джону Кэриллу два варианта переложения Адриана; второй из них начинается словами «Ах, мимолетный дух!» и озаглавлен «То же другой рукой» — очевидно, другой рукой Поупа — именно там он и вопрошает «куда».) Джеймс Битти, «Ода Надежде» (ок. 1760), стих 78: Whither, ah whither are ye fled? (Куда, ax куда ты улетела?) Анна Летиция Барбо, «Жизнь» (ок. 1811): О whither, whither dost thou fly… (О куда, куда ты улетаешь…) Барри Корнуолл, «Песня» (ок. 1820): Whither, ah! whither is my lost love straying… (Куда, ax! куда устремляется моя потерянная любовь…) Китс, «Эндимион» (1818), кн. 1, стихи 970–971: …Ah! where Are those swift moments? Whither are they fled? (…Ax, где Те мимолетные мгновенья? Куда же они упорхнули?) 4 Весны моей… дни — избитый галлицизм. Упомяну лишь несколько примеров, отобранных при беглом чтении: Клеман Маро, «О себе» («De soy mesme», 1537): Plus ne suis ce que j'ay esté, Et ne le sçaurois jamais estreж Mon beau...
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Часть текста: 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 of our years, 8 for which there is no renovation? Perhaps there comes into our thoughts, midst a poetical reverie, some other ancient spring, 12 which sets our heart aquiver with the dream of a distant clime, a marvelous night, a moon.... IV Now is the time: good lazybones, epicurean sages; you, equanimous fortunates; 4 you, fledglings of the Lyóvshin 41 school; you, country Priams; and sentimental ladies, you; spring calls you to the country, 8 season of warmth, of flowers, of labors, of inspired rambles, and of seductive nights. Friends! to the fields, quick, quick; 12 in heavy loaden chariots; with your own horses or with posters; out of the towngates start to trek! V And you, indulgent reader, in your imported calash, leave the indefatigable city 4 where in the winter you caroused; ...
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Часть текста: exceeded the Biblical three score and ten. How does this feat, if it is a feat, impress you? "Three score and ten" sounded, no doubt, very venerable in the days when life expectancy hardly reached one half of that length. Anyway, Petersburgan pediatricians never thought I might perform the feat you mention: a feat of lucky endurance, of paradoxically detached will power, of good work and good wine, of healthy concentration on a rare bug or a rhythmic phrase. Another thing that might have been of some help is the fact that I am subject to the embarrassing qualms of superstition: a number, a dream, a coincidence can affect roe obsessively-- though not in the sense of absurd fears but as fabulous (and on the whole rather bracing) scientific enigmas incapable of being stated, let alone solved. Has your life thus far come up to expectations you bad for yourself as a young man? My life thus far has surpassed splendidly the ambitions of boyhood and youth. In the first decade of our dwindling century, during...
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Часть текста: as described in the first chapter of Speak, Memory was only a stylistic device meant to introduce my subject. Memory often presents a life broken into episodes, more or less perfectly recalled. Do you see any themes working through from one episode to another? Everyone can sort out convenient patterns of related themes in the past development of his life. Here again I had to provide pegs and echoes when furnishing my reception halls. Is the strongest tie between men this common captivity in time? Let us not generalize. The common captivity in time is felt differently by different people, and some people may not feel it at all. Generalizations are full of loopholes and traps. I know elderly men for whom "time" only means "timepiece." What distinguishes us from animals? Being aware of being aware of being. In other words, if I not only know that I am but also know that I know it, then I belong to the human species. All the rest follows-- the glory of thought, poetry, a vision of the universe. In that respect, the gap between ape and man is immeasurably greater than the one between amoeba and ape. The difference between an ape's memory and human memory is the difference between an ampersand and the British Museum...