洛丽塔

出版时间:2000-12   出版时间:外语教学与研究出版社   作者:(美)弗拉基米尔・纳博科夫   页数:335  
封面图片

洛丽塔
前言

  于晓丹, 廖世奇  “我承认自己不相信时间,我喜欢把我的魔毯用完叠起后,让它的图案的一部分叠印在另一部分之上。”  纳博科夫:《诉说吧,回忆》  弗拉基米尔·纳博科夫出生于旧式俄历1899年4月10日。如果换成西历,应该是4月22日。他一周岁时,正好是二十世纪新千年的开始,这一年因为旧式俄历较西历晚了一天,所以纳博科夫的周岁生日就成了西历4月23日,值得一提的是,这一天正是备受他  推崇的莎士比亚的生日。  纳博科夫家世相当显赫,他的祖父曾是两代沙皇的司法大臣,家里既有钱又有文化,而且还属亲英一派。纳博科夫幼年受过的教育一般人根本望尘莫及。他小的时候,家里走马灯似的为他请了许多家庭教师,而他凭借天资聪慧,很小就掌握了英语、法语和德语。据说,他在会写俄文前就先学会了写英文。七岁时,他开始迷上了蝴蝶,收集蝴蝶标本的嗜好陪伴了他的一生,而且后来做得相当专业,还发表过几篇有关蝴蝶的昆虫学论文,使得他以作家成名之后,还常常被冠以“昆虫学家”的称号。纳博科夫有一位酷爱文学的父亲,也许是遗传的作用,纳博科夫很早就与文学结下了难解之缘。他最初的创作兴趣是写诗,十五岁上出版第一本诗集,三年后出版第二本,被当时舆论誉为“神童”。他一生写下的诗实在不算少,而且自视不低,但他的诗名却一直不怎么响亮。不过,他后来许多小说行文中那种醉人的诗意恐怕也得部分归功于他写诗的努力吧。  纳博科夫曾把自己离开俄罗斯前的二十年光阴说成是一段“十全十美的过去”。父母的宠爱,无忧无虑地读书,写诗,捉蝴蝶,旅游,度假,甘涩交织的初恋,都在他心中留下了温暖的痕迹。但这段“过去”恰恰是俄罗斯历史上最动荡血腥的年代。纳博科夫的一位评论者曾说纳博科夫的家世为他观察俄国革命提供了“一个拳击场边的位子”。话虽是不错,但有意思的是,就在俄国革命进行得如火如茶之际,纳博科夫却并没有到场,而且似乎很有些恶作剧地摆出一副无动于衷的样子。事实上对任何大众化政治运动的冷漠是纳博科夫从为人到为文始终如一的禀性。这一点显然不是得自他父亲的遗传。作为立宪派民主党的创始人之一,纳博科夫的父亲是当时政坛上的活跃人物。1917年,沙皇尼古拉二世将皇位让给自己的兄弟,却遭到拒绝,拒位诏书就出自纳博科夫父亲之手,也正是这份诏书正式宣告了罗曼诺夫王朝的终结。十月革命爆发后,纳博科夫的父亲把家人送到克里米亚避险,自己留在彼得堡,企图推动西方式的立宪大会选举和苏维埃唱对台戏,因此被列宁下令逮捕,获释后也去了克里米亚。1919年,苏联红军攻入克里米亚,纳博科夫全家仓皇出逃,流亡德国。纳博科夫从此再也没有踏上俄罗斯的土地。  到柏林后不久,靠变卖母亲的首饰,纳博科夫得以赴英国进入剑桥大学就读,主修法、俄文学。就在他毕业前不久,他父亲在一次政治集会上为保护演讲者遇害身亡。这件事对纳博科夫的刺激极深,不少论者认为他日后作品中频繁出现的形形色色的血腥恐怖,与他父亲的死有很大关系。
内容概要

  《洛丽塔》的出版为作者赢了空前的声名,也引起了巨大的争议。该书叙述了一个中年男子与一个未成年少女的畸恋故事,小说始终笼罩在洛丽塔那种对人世淡然的态度之中,我们可以跟随着亨伯特穿越美国大陆的欲望之旅去深入一个少女迷茫的生活。一段罪恶的人生,一场绮丽的春梦,一个焦躁的欲望,一个狂妄的梦想,一场揪心的苦难。洛丽塔--一片凝聚男人所有梦想的雪花……  本书通篇都是亨伯特滔滔不绝的第一人称独白。但第一人称叙述通常就象无未能佐证的一面之辞。读者一方面没有理由完全信任"我"的诚实,另一方面却又找不到更为可靠的客观依据。  《洛丽塔》所关注的也绝不仅仅是恋少女癖。亨伯特的确说过"要一劳永逸地确定小仙女危险的魔力何在"的话,但我们似乎也没有什么理由怀疑他最后的一段话不是认真的。在想永不褪色的秘密,预言家的十四行诗,艺术的避难所。这便是你与我能共享的惟一的永恒,我的洛丽塔。
作者简介

  纳博科夫(Vladimir Nabokov)1899年生于圣彼得堡。1940年他移居美国,成为著名的小说家、诗人、批评家和翻译家。其代表作《洛丽塔》、《微暗之火》进入现代经典之列,被誉为二十世纪最伟大的艺术作品之一。他曾在威斯利、斯坦福、康奈尔和哈佛教授文学。1961年起侨居瑞士,1977年在那儿去世。

章节摘录

  The
median
age
of
pubescence
for
girls
has
been
found
to
be
thirteen
years
and
nine
months
in
New
York
and
Chi
cago.
The
age
varies
for
individuals
from
ten,
or
earlier,
to
seventeen.
Virginia
was
not
quite
fourteen
when
Harry
Edgar
possessed
her.
He
gave
her
lessons
in
algebra.
Jeminagrine
cela.
They
spent
their
honeymoon
at
Petersburg,Fla.
Monsieur
Poe-poe,
as
that
boy
in
one
of
Monsieur
Humbert
Humberts
classes
in
Paris
called
the
poet-poet.  Now
this
was
something
the
intruder
had
not
expected.The
whole
pill-spiel
(a
rather
sordid
affair,
entre
nous
soit
dit)
had
had
for
object
a
fastness
of
sleep
that
a
whole
regiment
would
not
have
disturbed,
and
here
she
was
staring
at  me,
and
thickly
calling
me
Barbara.
Barbara,
wearing
my
pajamas
which
were
much
too
tight
for
her,
remained
poised
motionless
over
the
little
sleep-talker.
Softly,
with
a
hopeless
sigh,
Dolly
turned
away,
resuming
her
initial
position.
For
at
least
two
minutes
I
waited
and
strained
on
the
brink,
like
that
tailor
with
his
homemade
parachute
forty
years
ago
when
about
to
jump
from
the
Eiffel
Tower.
Her
faint
breathing
had
the
rhythm
of
sleep.
Finally
I
heaved
myself
onto
my
narrow
margin
of
bed,
stealthily
pulled
at
the
odds
and
ends
of
sheets
piled
up
to
the
south
of
my
stone-cold
heels
-
and
Lolita
lifted
her
head
and
gaped
at
me.  To
my
surprise
I
found
her
dressea.
She
was
sitting
on
the
edge
of
the
bed
in
slacks
and
T-shirt,
and
was
looking
at
me
as
if
she
could
not
quite
place
me.
The
frank
soft
shape
of
her
small
breasts
was
brought
out
rather
than
blurred
by  the
limpness
of
her
thin
shirt,
and
this
frankness
irritated
me.
She
had
not
washed;
yet
her
mouth
was
freshly
though
smudgily
painted,
and
her
broad
teeth
glistened
like
wine
tinged
ivory,
or
pinkish
poker
chips.
And
there
she
sat,  hands
clasped
in
her
lap,
and
dreamily
brimmed
with
a
diabolical
glow
that
had
no
relation
to
me
whatever.  Lolita,
light
of
my
life,
fire
of
my
loins.
My
sin,
my
soul.Lo-lee-ta:
the
tip
of
the
tongue
taking
a
trip
of
three
steps
down
the
palate
to
tap,
at
three,
on
the
teeth.
Lo.
Lee.
Ta.  She
was
Lo,
plain
Lo,
in
the
morning,
standing
four
feet
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.  When
the
bride
is
a
widow
and
the
groom
is
a
widower;when
the
former
has
lived
in
Our
Great
Little
Town
for
hardly
two
years,
and
the
latter
for
hardly
a
month;
when
Monsieur
wants
to
get
the
whole
damned
thing
over
with
as
quickly
as
possible,
and
Madame
gives
in
with
a
tolerant
smile;
then,
my
reader,
the
wedding
is
generally
a
quietaffair.
The
bride
may
dispense
with
a
tiara
of
orange
blos-  soms
securing
her
finger-tip
veil,
nor
does
she
carry
a
white
orchid
in
a
prayer
book.
The
brides
little
daughter
might
have
added
to
the
ceremonies
uniting
H.
and
H.
a
touch
of
vivid
vermeil;
but
I
knew
I
would
not
dare
be
too
tender  with
cornered
Lolita
yet,
and
therefore
agreed
it
was
not
worth
while
tearing
the
child
away
from
her
beloved
Camp
Q.  My
soi-disant
passionate
and
lonely
Charlotte
was
in
everyday
life
matter-of-fact
and
gregarious.
Moreover,
I
discovered
that
although
she
could
not
control
her
heart
or
her
cries,
she
was
a
woman
of
principle.
Immediately
after  she
had
become
more
or
less
my
mistress
(despite
the
stimulants,
her
nervous,
eager
cheri
-
a
heroic
cheri!)
-
had
some
initial
trouble,
for
which,
however,
he
amply
compensated
her
by
a
fantastic
display
of
old-world
endearments),
good
Charlotte
interviewed
me
about
my
relations
with
God.
I
could
have
answered
that
on
that
score
my
mind
was
open;
I
said,
instead
-
paying
my
tribute
to
a
pious
platit-ude
-
that
I
believed
in
a
cosmic
spirit.
Looking
down
at
her
fingernails,
she
also
asked
me
had
I
not
in
my
family
a
certain
strange
strain.
I
countered
by
inquiring
whether
she
would
still
want
to
marry
me
if
my
fathers
maternal
grand-  father
had
been,
say,
a
Turk.
She
said
it
did
not
matter
a
bit;
but
that,
if
she
ever
found
out
I
did
not
believe
in
Our
Christian
God,
she
would
commit
suicide.
She
said
it
so
solemnly
that
it
gave
me
the
creeps.
It
was
then
I
knew
she
was
a
woman
of
principle.  It
was
then
that
began
our
extensive
travels
all
over
the
States.
To
any
other
type
of
tourist
accommodation
I
soon
grew
to
prefer
the
Functional
Motel
-
clean,
neat,
safe
nooks,
ideal
places
for
sleep,
argument,reconciliation,
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
ever
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
of
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
connuimes,
to
use
a
Flaubertian
intonation
-
the
stone
cottages
under
enormous
Chateau-briandesque
trees,
the
brick
unit,
the
adobe
unit,
the
stucco
court,
on
what
the
Tour
Book
of
the
Automobile
Association
describes
as
shaded
or
spacious
or
landscaped
grounds.
The
log
kind,
finished
in
knotty
pine,reminded
Lo,
by
its
golden-brown
glaze,
of
fried-chicken
bones.
We
held
in
contempt
the
plain
whitewashed
clapboard
Kabins,
with
their
faint
sewerish
smell
or
some
other
gloomy
self-conscious
stench
and
nothing
to
boast
of(except
good
beds),
and
an
unsmiling
landlady
alwaysprepared
to
have
her
gift
(...
well,
I
could
give
you...)turned
down.  I
remember
as
a
child
in
Europe
gloating
over
a
map
of
North
America
that
had
Appalachian
Mountains
boldly
running
from
Alabama
up
to
New
Brunswick,
so
that
the
whole
region
they
spanned
-
Tennessee,
the
Virginias,Pennsylvania,
New
York,
Vermont,
New
Hampshire
and
Maine,
appeared
to
my
imagination
as
a
gigantic
Switzer-land
or
even
Tibet,
all
mountain,
glorious
diamond
peak
upon
peak,
giant
conifers,
Le
montagnard
emigre
in
his
bear
skin
glory,
and
Fells
tigris
goldsmithi,
and
Red
Indians
under
the
catalpas.
That
it
all
boiled
down
to
a
measly
suburban
lawn
and
a
smoking
garbage
incinerator,
was
appalling.Farewell,
Appalachia!
Leaving
it,
we
crossed
Ohio,
the
three
states
beginning
with
I,
and
Nebraska-
ah,
that
first
whiff
of
the
West!
We
traveled
very
leisurely,
having
more
than
a
week
to
reach
Wace,
Continental
Divide,
where
she
passionately
desired
to
see
the
Ceremonial
Dances
marking
the
seasonal
opening
of
Magic
Cave,
and
at
least
three
weeks
to
reach
Elphinstone,
gem
of
a
western
State
where
she
yearned
to
climb
Red
Rock
from
which
a
mature
screen
star
had
recently
jumped
to
her
death
after
a
drunken
row
with
her
gigolo.  ……
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  “我承认自己不相信时间,我喜欢把我的魔毯用完叠起后,让它的图案的一部分叠印在另一部分之上。”  纳博科夫:《诉说吧,回忆》  弗拉基米尔·纳博科夫出生于旧式俄历1899年4月10日。如果换成西历,应该是4月22日。他一周岁时,正好是二十世纪新千年的开始,这一年因为旧式俄历较西历晚了一天,所以纳博科夫的周岁生日就成了西历4月23日,值得一提的是,这一天正是备受他  推崇的莎士比亚的生日。  纳博科夫家世相当显赫,他的祖父曾是两代沙皇的司法大臣,家里既有钱又有文化,而且还属亲英一派。纳博科夫幼年受过的教育一般人根本望尘莫及。他小的时候,家里走马灯似的为他请了许多家庭教师,而他凭借天资聪慧,很小就掌握了英语、法语和德语。据说,他在会写俄文前就先学会了写英文。七岁时,他开始迷上了蝴蝶,收集蝴蝶标本的嗜好陪伴了他的一生,而且后来做得相当专业,还发表过几篇有关蝴蝶的昆虫学论文,使得他以作家成名之后,还常常被冠以“昆虫学家”的称号。纳博科夫有一位酷爱文学的父亲,也许是遗传的作用,纳博科夫很早就与文学结下了难解之缘。他最初的创作兴趣是写诗,十五岁上出版第一本诗集,三年后出版第二本,被当时舆论誉为“神童”。他一生写下的诗实在不算少,而且自视不低,但他的诗名却一直不怎么响亮。不过,他后来许多小说行文中那种醉人的诗意恐怕也得部分归功于他写诗的努力吧。  纳博科夫曾把自己离开俄罗斯前的二十年光阴说成是一段“十全十美的过去”。父母的宠爱,无忧无虑地读书,写诗,捉蝴蝶,旅游,度假,甘涩交织的初恋,都在他心中留下了温暖的痕迹。但这段“过去”恰恰是俄罗斯历史上最动荡血腥的年代。纳博科夫的一位评论者曾说纳博科夫的家世为他观察俄国革命提供了“一个拳击场边的位子”。话虽是不错,但有意思的是,就在俄国革命进行得如火如茶之际,纳博科夫却并没有到场,而且似乎很有些恶作剧地摆出一副无动于衷的样子。事实上对任何大众化政治运动的冷漠是纳博科夫从为人到为文始终如一的禀性。这一点显然不是得自他父亲的遗传。作为立宪派民主党的创始人之一,纳博科夫的父亲是当时政坛上的活跃人物。1917年,沙皇尼古拉二世将皇位让给自己的兄弟,却遭到拒绝,拒位诏书就出自纳博科夫父亲之手,也正是这份诏书正式宣告了罗曼诺夫王朝的终结。十月革命爆发后,纳博科夫的父亲把家人送到克里米亚避险,自己留在彼得堡,企图推动西方式的立宪大会选举和苏维埃唱对台戏,因此被列宁下令逮捕,获释后也去了克里米亚。1919年,苏联红军攻入克里米亚,纳博科夫全家仓皇出逃,流亡德国。纳博科夫从此再也没有踏上俄罗斯的土地。  到柏林后不久,靠变卖母亲的首饰,纳博科夫得以赴英国进入剑桥大学就读,主修法、俄文学。就在他毕业前不久,他父亲在一次政治集会上为保护演讲者遇害身亡。这件事对纳博科夫的刺激极深,不少论者认为他日后作品中频繁出现的形形色色的血腥恐怖,与他父亲的死有很大关系。
编辑推荐

  《洛丽塔》是作者流传最广的作品,绝大部分篇幅是死囚亨伯特的自白,叙述了一个中年男子与一个未成年少女的畸恋故事。小说最初未获准在美国发行,于1955年首次被欧洲巴黎奥林匹亚出版社出版。1958年终于出版了美国版,作品一路蹿升至《纽约时报》畅销书单的第一位。《洛丽塔》已被改编成电影。

图书标签Tags

纳博科夫,小说,外国文学,英文
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相关评论与评分
  •     欧亨利的小说还是不错的,基本没有损坏~
  •     英文左边,非常喜欢的一本狄更斯的一本书
  •     喜欢莎翁的读者,一本随时都可以读的书
  •     向往的乡村生活,正在读四年级的儿子很喜欢
  •     不过想买的是散文,借工具书 啊要~
  •     封面看上去很不错,很喜欢 下次还会来买的
  •     书的质量不错!这点很重要。
    文字的一些描述很像回到青少年时期,哎
  •     以前每次逃课去画画 ,其实是因为喜欢老徐的电影才买的这本书
  •     所以要双语版的不要买错哦 正版 不错,发货速度很快!很好
  •     谜一样的卡尔维诺,太划算了。。。嘎嘎嘎
  •     老板买来给朋友推荐的,老公老板推荐他看的书
  •     只能当野史读,毅然决定以后都在当当买了…物美价廉……十分满意
  •     so great,买了
  •     这个真悲剧,书挺好。。没质量问题。。
  •     帮人捎,老早就想看这本书了
  •     多读读,好的翻译带来愉快的阅读
  •     意识流的经典代表作,增加词汇量。喜欢。呵呵
  •     建议喜欢小说的朋友都读读希腊故事,还想购买跃进版
  •     根本没有插图,真的好看啊
  •     对于想认识意大利个地方文化的读者来说,英语部分有点难
 

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