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Часть текста: to a Beheading”. New York, 1998; Tammi P Russian Subtexts in Nabokov’s Fiction. Tampere, 1999. 3 См.: Долинин А. Истинная жизнь писателя Сирина: Работы о Набокове. СПб., 2004. С. 15. По мнению известного современного набоковеда, «аллюзии на чужие тексты в набоковской прозе, при всей их несомненной важности, играют подчиненную роль по отношению к интратекстуальным связям, мотивированы этими последними и потому должны изучаться только в соотнесении с ними» (Там же). Не стремясь оспорить этот взгляд, мы сознательно выбираем в качестве объекта исследования интертекстуальные параллели. 4 Люксембург А., Рахимкулова Г. Магистр игры Вивиан Ван Бок (Игра слов в прозе Владимира Набокова в свете теории каламбура). Ростов н/Д., 1996. С. 42. Об игровой поэтике Набокова см. также, напр.: Пимкина А. А. Принцип игры в творчестве Набокова: дис. ... канд. филол. наук. М., 1999; Сабурова О. Н. Русскоязычное творчество В. Набокова: Проблемы игровой поэтики: дис. ... канд. филол. наук. СПб., 2002; Lilly M. Nabokov: Homo Ludens // Vladimir Nabokov. His Life, His Work, His World. A Tribute. London, 1979. P. 88-102. 5 Набоков В. Предисловие к английскому переводу романа «Приглашение на казнь» // Б. Б. Набоков: Pro et contra [Т 1]. с. 47. 6 Набоков В. В. собр. соч. американского периода: в 5 т. сПб., 1999-2000. Т. 3. сПб., 2000. с. 590. ср. с набоковским утверждением о том, что «любой русский писатель чем-то обязан Гоголю, Пушкину и Шекспиру»...
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Часть текста: вешает трубку и зовет лагерную воспитательницу. Начальница лагеря (воспитательнице). Я только что говорила с мистером Гумбертом. Мать Лолиты погибла в дорожном происшествии. Воспитательница. О Боже мой! Начальница лагеря. Он едет за ней. Он попросил меня сказать Лолите, что ее мать больна. Найдите, пожалуйста, девочку и подготовьте ее к отъезду. Кстати, где этот ленивец, мой сын? Пусть он уберет мусорные баки за сарай. Поиски Лолиты. Ее имя выкрикивают на различный лад в нескольких местах лагеря. Мы проходим мимо ужасно милых домиков и палаток, стоящих в сосновой роще. КИНОАППАРАТ заглядывает за кусты и деревья. Две тени в подлеске поспешно расцепляются. Далекие голоса зовущих нарастают и затем затихают. Голоса. Лолита! Лолита! Грунтовая дорога ведет к лагерным домикам и палаткам. За рулем автомобиля — Гумберт. Чарли, четырнадцатилетний сын начальницы лагеря, катит пустые баки через дорогу. Гумберт (указывая рукой из окна). Там находится контора? Чарли молча показывает ему направление, дернув большим пальцем руки. Контора — Гумберт и начальница лагеря. Начальница (подсчитывая сумму оплаты и не поднимая глаз от бумаги). Какая трагедия! Когда же похороны? Гумберт. Ох, они уже были вчера. Я решил, что ребенку не стоит этого видеть. Излишнее потрясение. Оплачивает счет. Начальница. Спасибо. Бедняжка Лолита. Вот ваша расписка. Появляется Лолита, волоча и подталкивая свой чемодан. Лолита. Здрасьте, здрасьте. Он опускает руку на ее голову и подхватывает чемодан. На ней ее самое яркое клетчатое платье и коричнево-белые полуботинки. Когда они подходят к автомобилю, Лолита взмахом руки прощается с Чарли. Лолита. Счастливо оставаться, дружок Чарли! Угрюмо, не без некоторого сожаления он провожает ее светлыми, с белесыми ресницами глазами. Внутри нагретого солнцем автомобиля. Она усаживается рядом с Гумбертом,...
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Часть текста: to be collecting that summer. The lepidoptera lived up to the occasion, so did the weather. My visitors and their crew had never paid much attention to those insects and I was touched and flattered by the childish wonderment with which they viewed the crowds of butterflies imbibing moisture on brookside mud at various spots of the mountain trail. Pictures were taken of the swarms that arose at my passage, and other hours of the day were devoted to the reproduction of the interview proper. It eventually appeared on the Bookstand program and was published in The Listener (November 22, 1962). I have mislaid the cards on which I had written my answers. I suspect that the published text was taken straight from the tape for it teems with inaccuracies. These I have tried to weed out ten years later but was forced to strike out a few sentences here and there when memory refused to restore the sense flawed by defective or improperly mended speech. The poem I quote (with metrical accents added) will be found translated into English in Chapter Two of The Gift, G. P. Putnam's Sons, New York, 1963. Would you ever go back to Russia? I will never go back, for the simple reason that all the Russia I need is always with me: literature, language, and my own Russian childhood. I will never return. I will never surrender. And anyway, the grotesque shadow of a police state will not be dispelled in my lifetime. I don't think they know my works there-- oh, perhaps a number of readers exist there in my special secret service, but let us not forget that Russia has grown tremendously provincial during these forty years, apart from the fact that people there are told what to read, what to think. In America I'm happier than in any other country. It is in America that I found my best readers, minds that are closest to mine. I feel intellectually at home in America. It is a second home in the true sense of the ...
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Часть текста: в сниженном варианте бульварного романа. Исследователи заметили в произведении пародию, в первую очередь на «Анну Каренину» и «Мадам Бовари» [71]. Предлагаемое прочтение оставляет, однако, незамеченным сложный художественный механизм романа. Справедливым кажется общее указание на пародию, но осуществляется она не на внешнем сюжетном уровне, а на скрытом, глубинном уровне романной структуры. 1. Музыкальная модель Роман В. Набокова «Король, дама, валет» является своеобразным продолжением опыта, осуществленного в русской литературе Андреем Белым, его четырьмя Симфониями, эпическим повествованием, написанным по принципу музыкального контрапункта. Образцом для романа Набоков также избрал музыкальную модель — танец, вальс — и литературно воспроизвел его композиционную схему и структурную организацию. В контексте обиходной жизни и в сопоставлении с ней танец представляет действие развлекательное, игровое и искусственное. Движение осуществляется чередованием фигур, набор которых заранее определен, а порядок репетитивен. Оно подчинено звуковому сигналу, музыкальному сопровождению, которое обусловливает его размер и темп. Как известно, музыка каждого танца имеет свою ритмическую фигуру, которой соответствует фигура танцевальная. Ритмическая зависимость движения от звукового сопровождения, его хореографическая запрограммированность придает танцу характер автоматизма. А неестественность танцевального шага по отношению к ситуации бытовой оценивается как его искусственность. Между тем соблюдение правил танца выполняется участниками с немалой долей энтузиазма, что объясняется его социальной и психологической развлекательной функцией....
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Часть текста: of twenty entries or so. It will be seem from them that for all the devil’s inventiveness, the scheme remained daily the same. First he would tempt meand then thwart me, leaving me with a dull pain in the very root of my being. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and how to do it, without impinging on a child’s chastity; after all, I had had some experience in my life of pederosis; had visually possessed dappled nymphets in parks; had wedged my wary and bestial way into the hottest, most crowded corner of a city bus full of straphanging school children. But for almost three weeks I had been interrupted in all my pathetic machinations. The agent of these interruptions was usually the Haze woman (who, as the reader will mark, was more afraid of 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 ...
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Часть текста: turned out to be much too flat for holding my bulky chessmen, but I kept itusing it for a totally different purpose. In order to break some pattern of fate in which I obscurely felt myself being enmeshed, I had decideddespite Lo’s visible annoyanceto spend another night at Chestnut Court; definitely waking up at four in the morning, I ascertained that Lo was still sound asleep (mouth open, in a kind of dull amazement at the curiously inane life we all had rigged up for her) and satisfied myself that the precious contents of the “luizetta” were safe. There, snugly wrapped in a white woolen scarf, lay a pocket automatic: caliber. 32, capacity of magazine 8 cartridges, length a little under one ninth of Lolita’s length, stock checked walnut, finish full blued. I had inherited it from the late Harold Haze, with a 1938 catalog which cheerily said in part: “Particularly well adapted for use in the home and car as well as on the person.” There it lay, ready for instant service on the person or persons, loaded and fully cocked with the slide lock in safety position, thus precluding any accidental discharge. We must remember that a pistol is the Freudian symbol of the Ur-father’s central forelimb. I was now glad I had it with meand even more glad that I had learned to use it two years before, in the pine forest around my and Charlotte’s glass lake. Farlow, with whom I had roamed those remote woods, was an admirable marksman, and with his. 38 actually managed to hit a hummingbird, though I must say not much of it could be retrieved for proofonly a little iridescent fluff. A burley ex-policeman called Krestovski, who in the twenties had shot and killed two escaped convicts, joined us and bagged a tiny woodpeckercompletely out of season, incidentally. Between those two sportsmen I of course was a novice and kept missing everything, though I did would a squirrel on a later occasion when I went out alone....
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Часть текста: 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...
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Часть текста: 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 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 have to confess that by the time we reached its mirage of gray water, so many delights had already been granted me by my traveling companion that the search for a Kingdom by the Sea, a Sublimated Riviera, or whatnot, far from being the impulse of the subconscious, had become the rational pursuit of a purely theoretical thrill. The angels knew it, and arranged things accordingly. A visit to a plausible cove on the Atlantic side was completely messed up by foul weather. A thick damp sky, muddy waves, a sense of boundless but somehow...
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Часть текста: insatiable illicit love. At first, in my dread of arousing suspicion, I would eagerly pay for both sections of one double unit, each containing a double bed. I wondered what type of foursome this arrangement was even intended for, since only a pharisaic parody of privacy could be attained by means of the incomplete partition dividing the cabin or room into two communicating love nests. By and by, the very possibilities that such honest promiscuity suggested (two young couples merrily swapping mates or a child shamming sleep to earwitness primal sonorities) made me bolder, and every now and then I would take a bed-and-cot or twin-bed cabin, a prison cell or paradise, with yellow window shades pulled down to create a morning illusion of Venice and sunshine when actually it was Pennsylvania and rain. We came to know nous connmes, to use a Flaubertian intonationthe stone cottages under enormous Chateaubriandesque trees, the brick unit, the adobe unit, the stucco court, on what the ...
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Часть текста: her lovely, childish scrawl was horribly transformed into the dull hand of one of my few correspondentsI used to recollect, with anguished amusement, the times in my trustful, pre-dolorian past when I would be misled by a jewel-bright window opposite wherein my lurking eye, the ever alert periscope of my shameful vice, would make out from afar a half-naked nymphet stilled in the act of combing her Alice-in-Wonderland hair. There was in the fiery phantasm a perfection which made my wild delight also perfect, just because the vision was out of reach, with no possibility of attainment to spoil it by the awareness of an appended taboo; indeed, it may well be that the very attraction immaturity has for me lies not so much in the limpidity of pure young forbidden fairy child beauty as in the security of a situation where infinite perfections fill the gap between the little given and the great promisedthe great rosegray never-to-be-had. Mes fentres! Hanging above blotched sunset and welling night, grinding my teeth, I would crowd all the demons of my desire against the railing of a throbbing balcony: it would be ready to take off in the apricot and black humid evening; did take offwhereupon the lighted image would move and Even would revert to a rib, and there would be nothing in the window but ...