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Комментарии к «Евгению Онегину» Александра Пушкина - Владимир Набоков
- Дата:13.07.2024
- Категория: Документальные книги / Критика
- Название: Комментарии к «Евгению Онегину» Александра Пушкина
- Автор: Владимир Набоков
- Просмотров:4
- Комментариев:0
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Описание онлайн-книги Комментарии к «Евгению Онегину» Александра Пушкина - Владимир Набоков:
Комментарии В. В. Набокова освещают многообразие исторических, литературных и бытовых сторон романа. Книга является оригинальным произведением писателя в жанре научно-исторического комментария. Набоков обращается к «потаенным слоям» романа, прослеживает литературные влияния, связи «Евгения Онегина» с другими произведениями поэта, увлекательно повествует о тайнописи Пушкина.Предназначена для широкого круга читателей и в первую очередь — для преподавателей и студентов гуманитарных вузов, а также для учителей и учащихся средней школы.
Критика
Аудиокнига "Комментарии к «Евгению Онегину» Александра Пушкина" от Владимира Набокова
📚 Великий русский поэт Александр Пушкин и его произведение "Евгений Онегин" стали неотъемлемой частью русской литературы. Владимир Набоков, известный писатель и литературовед, предлагает свой взгляд на этот шедевр в своих "Комментариях к «Евгению Онегину»".
🎧 В аудиокниге "Комментарии к «Евгению Онегину» Александра Пушкина" вы найдете глубокий анализ текста, интересные факты о создании произведения и тонкие нюансы, которые помогут вам лучше понять и полюбить эту классическую поэму.
🖋️ Владимир Набоков - выдающийся русско-американский писатель, литературовед и преподаватель. Известен своими романами, такими как "Лолита" и "Защита Лужина". Набоков обладал уникальным стилем письма и глубоким знанием литературы.
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Критика
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XVI
The ache of love chases Tatiana, and to the garden she repairs to brood, and all at once her moveless eyes she lowers 4 and is too indolent farther to step; her bosom has risen, her cheeks are covered with an instant flame, her breath has died upon her lips, 8 and there's a singing in her ears, a flashing before her eyes. Night comes; the moon patrols the distant vault of heaven, and in the gloam of trees the nightingale12 intones sonorous chants. Tatiana in the darkness does not sleep and in low tones talks with her nurse.XVII
“I can't sleep, nurse: 'tis here so stuffy! Open the window and sit down by me.” “Why, Tanya, what's the matter with you?” “I am dull. 4 Let's talk about old days.” “Well, what about them, Tanya? Time was, I stored in my memory no dearth of ancient haps and never-haps 8 about dire sprites and about maidens; but everything to me is dark now, Tanya: I have forgotten what I knew. Yes, things have come now to a sorry pass!12 I'm all befuddled.” “Nurse, tell me about your old times. Were you then in love?”XVIII
“Oh, come, come, Tanya! In those years we never heard of love; elsewise my late mother-in-law 4 would have chased me right off the earth.” “But how, then, were you wedded, nurse?” “It looks as if God willed it so. My Vanya was younger than myself, my sweet, 8 and I was thirteen. For two weeks or so a woman matchmaker kept visiting my kinsfolk, and at last my father blessed me. Bitterly12 I cried for fear; and, crying, they unbraided my tress and, chanting, they led me to the church.XIX
“And so I entered a strange family. But you're not listening to me.” “Oh, nurse, nurse, I feel dismal, 4 I'm sick at heart, my dear, I'm on the point of crying, sobbing!” “My child, you are not well; the Lord have mercy upon us and save us! 8 What would you like, do ask. Here, let me sprinkle you with holy water, you're all a-burning.” “I'm not ill; I'm... do you know, nurse... I'm in love.”12 “My child, the Lord be with you!” And, uttering a prayer, the nurse crossed with decrepit hand the girl.XX
“I am in love,” anew she murmured to the old woman mournfully. “Sweetheart, you are not well.” 4 “Leave me. I am in love.” And meantime the moon shone and with dark light irradiated the pale charms of Tatiana 8 and her loose hair, and drops of tears, and, on a benchlet, before the youthful heroine, a kerchief on her hoary head, the little12 old crone in a long “body warmer”; and in the stillness everything dozed by the inspirative moon.XXI
And far away Tatiana's heart was ranging as she looked at the moon.... All of a sudden in her mind a thought was born.... 4 “Go, let me be alone. Give me, nurse, a pen, paper, and move up the table; I shall soon lie down. Good night.” Now she's alone, 8 all's still. The moon gives light to her. Tatiana, leaning on her elbow, writes, and Eugene's ever present in her mind, and in an unconsidered letter12 the love of an innocent maid breathes forth. The letter now is ready, folded. Tatiana! Whom, then, is it for?XXII
I've known belles inaccessible, cold, winter-chaste; inexorable, incorruptible, 4 unfathomable by the mind; I marveled at their modish morgue, at their natural virtue, and, to be frank, I fled from them, 8 and I, meseems, with terror read above their eyebrows Hell's inscription: “Abandon hope for evermore!”20 To inspire love is bale for them,12 to frighten folks for them is joyance. Perhaps, on the banks of the Neva similar ladies you have seen.XXIII
Amidst obedient admirers, other odd females I have seen, conceitedly indifferent 4 to sighs impassioned and to praise. But what, to my amazement, did I find? While, by austere demeanor, they frightened timid love, 8 they had the knack of winning it again, at least by their condolence; at least the sound of spoken words sometimes would seem more tender,12 and with credulous blindness again the youthful lover pursued sweet vanity.XXIV
Why is Tatiana, then, more guilty? Is it because in sweet simplicity deceit she knows not and believes 4 in her elected dream? Is it because she loves without art, being obedient to the bent of feeling? Is it because she is so trustful 8 and is endowed by heaven with a restless imagination, intelligence, and a live will, and headstrongness,12 and a flaming and tender heart? Are you not going to forgive her the thoughtlessness of passions?XXV
The coquette reasons coolly; Tatiana in dead earnest loves and unconditionally yields 4 to love like a sweet child. She does not say: Let us defer; thereby we shall augment love's value, inveigle into toils more surely; 8 let us first prick vainglory with hope; then with perplexity exhaust a heart, and then revive it with a jealous fire,12 for otherwise, cloyed with delight, the cunning captive from his shackles hourly is ready to escape.XXVI
Another problem I foresee: saving the honor of my native land, undoubtedly I shall have to translate 4 Tatiana's letter. She knew Russian badly, did not read our reviews, and in her native tongue expressed herself 8 with difficulty. So, she wrote in French. What's to be done about it! I repeat again; as yet a lady's love12 has not expressed itself in Russian, as yet our proud tongue has not got accustomed to postal prose.XXVII
I know: some would make ladies read Russian. Horrible indeed! Can I image them 4 with The Well-Meaner21 in their hands? My poets, I appeal to you! Is it not true that the sweet objects for whom, to expiate your sins, 8 in secret you wrote verses, to whom your hearts you dedicated — did not they all, wielding the Russian language poorly, and with difficulty,12 so sweetly garble it, and on their lips did not a foreign language become a native one?XXVIII
The Lord forbid my meeting at a ball or at its breakup, on the porch, a seminarian in a yellow shawl 4 or an Academician in a bonnet! As vermeil lips without a smile, without grammatical mistakes I don't like Russian speech. 8 Perchance (it would be my undoing!) a generation of new belles, heeding the magazines' entreating voice, to Grammar will accustom us;12 verses will be brought into use. Yet I... what do I care? I shall be true to ancientry.XXIX
An incorrect and careless patter, an inexact delivery of words, as heretofore a flutter of the heart 4 will in my breast produce; in me there's no force to repent; to me will Gallicisms remain as sweet as the sins of past youth, 8 as Bogdanóvich's verse. But that will do. 'Tis time I busied myself with my fair damsel's letter; my word I've given — and what now? Yea, yea!12 I'm ready to back out of it. I know: tender Parny's pen in our days is out of fashion.XXX
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