Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "VERANDA"
Входимость: 2. Размер: 6кб.
Входимость: 2. Размер: 36кб.
Входимость: 1. Размер: 1кб.
Входимость: 1. Размер: 54кб.
Входимость: 1. Размер: 8кб.
Примерный текст на первых найденных страницах
Входимость: 2. Размер: 6кб.
Часть текста: merchant, about whom we will hear more later.) The time was mid-June. Kafka, as was his custom, spent the morning reclining on a chaise longue on the spa's veranda overlooking the sea. Nabokov, sketching fat figures in the margins of his notebook while relaxing on the beach, had stuffed the end of a Gauloise cigarette into his mouth when he realized he had left his matches at the Pension des H?brides five hundred meters away. Sitting up as a prelude to borrowing what he needed, the young writer noticed the older writer, whose six-foot frame, by this time, weighed less than nine stone, all in black, surveying the strand from his chair. Nabokov stood, folded closed his notebook, and plodded off, minus his espadrilles, toward the invalid. He asked for a match first in French, which elicited only a questioning stare, then in Russian ( m?me jeu ), finally in German, to which the elegant consumptive replied "Schade, Mein Herr, Ich rauche nicht." Nabokov went back to his blanket and gave up on the cigarette. Waves soughed against the damp and spongy shingle, gulls mewed and dived for small fry or the scraps of someone's lunch, a bald man with a mandarin moustache strolled slowly by, accompanied by an olive-skinned lady, the two exchanging phrases in some unknown tongue (Georgian? Armenian? Greek?). Nabokov reports that later in the week, after his friend's departure for France, he spoke often to the thin man on the veranda, discussing his malady and the sundry ineffectual "cures" the specialists were forcing him to endure. He refused Nabokov’s requests to allow a sketched portrait, pleading aversion to the making of images on religious grounds. At the time, of course, Nabokov...
Входимость: 2. Размер: 36кб.
Часть текста: volumes (in my father's library there were more than a thousand of the latter alone, representing a good hundred journals) - all this had to be overcome in order to hunt down the necessary reference, if it existed at all. Nonetheless, even in my exceptionally propitious situation things were not easy: Russia, particularly in the north, dwelt in a mist, while the local lists, scattered through the journals, totally haphazard, scanty, and cruelly inaccurate in nomenclature, only maddened me when at last I ferreted them out. My father was the preeminent entomologist of his time, and very well off to boot, but the ordinary amateur, unable to dispatch his scouts throughout Russia, and denied the opportunity - or not knowing how - to gain access to specialized collections and libraries (and an accidental boon, the hasty inspection of collections at a lepidopterological society or in the cellar of some museum, does not satisfy the true enthusiast, who needs to have the boon always at hand), had no choice but to hope for a miracle. And that miracle dawned in 1912 with the appearance of my father's four-volume work The Butterflies and Moths of the Russian Empire. Although in a hall adjoining the library dark-red cabinets contained my father's supremely rich collections, consisting of specimens complete with thoroughly accurate names, dates, and places of capture, I personally belonged to the category of curieux who, in order to acquaint themselves properly with a butterfly and to visualize it, require three things; its artistic depiction, a compendium of all that has been written about it, and its insertion within the general system of classification. With no words and no art, without a penetrating and synthesizing process of thought, for me a butterfly would remain incomplete. Only one thing...
Входимость: 1. Размер: 1кб.
Входимость: 1. Размер: 54кб.
Часть текста: icy precisionplump for the former. There is nothing more atrociously cruel than an adored child. Did I mention the name of that milk bar I visited a moment ago? It was, of all things, The Frigid Queen. Smiling a little sadly, I dubbed her My Frigid Princess. She did not see the wistful joke. Oh, d not scowl at me, reader, I do not intend to convey the impressin that I did not manage to be happy. 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...
Входимость: 1. Размер: 8кб.
Часть текста: все это доставляло ей огромное удовольствие, ее восхищал каждый кусочек, каждый глоток, каждая острота, каждое стенание, он же находил восхитительными ее бархатные, розовые щечки и чистую лазурь зрачка ее щедро подведенных глаз, которым густые, иссиня-черные, удлиненные и загибающиеся у наружного угла глаза ресницы придавали модное выражение, именуемое «шутовской косинкой». Как-то в воскресенье, когда Кордула все еще нежилась в душистой ванне (этим прелестным, странным, непривычным зрелищем Ван наслаждался дважды в день), Ван «нагишом» (так его новая забавница-возлюбленная смягчала слово «голый») впервые после месячного воздержания попробовал походить на руках. Он решил, что вполне окреп, и посреди залитой солнцем террасы блаженно сделал мах, чтоб перевернуться в «первую позицию». И тут же упал на спину. Попробовал еще раз и немедленно потерял равновесие. Его охватил хоть и напрасный, но все же страх, будто левая рука стала короче правой, и Ван даже засомневался, сможет ли он теперь вообще плясать на руках. Кинг Уинг предостерегал, что, если месяца два-три не тренироваться, можно навсегда утратить этот редкий навык. В тот же день (с тех пор навсегда ...