Chapter 13 third quarter

The organs involved in English pronunciation are the throat, soft palate, lips, tongue (the dumpy in this circus class), and last but by no means the jaw; Some passages are translated into English mainly by excessive force and a little rumination.If his Russian is music, his English is murder.He had great trouble getting rid of palatal sounds (Pnin pronounced "difficult" as "dzeefeecooltsee"), and absolutely couldn't get rid of the extra Russian moisture of the letters t and d, followed by vowels he always pronounced Very weird soft voice. He ploses on "hat" ("I never wear a hat even in winter"), which is very different from the word "hot" that the average American (such as a typical Wendale townsman) pronounces. Similar, except that the vowel is pronounced shorter, which is very similar to the pronunciation of the German verb hat (to have). The long o's inevitably become short in his mouth: he says "no" perfectly like Italian, and he has the habit of saying this simple negative word three times in succession ("Would you like to take my car, Mr. Pnin?" "No-no-no, there are two steps to go."), so the Italian flavor is stronger.He doesn't have a long oo sound (a defect he doesn't know a thing about): when it's time to pronounce "noon" he can only produce the loose vowel sound like the German "nun". (“Tuesday afternoon—I don’t have class in the afternoon. I dare say today is Tuesday.”)

Tuesday—exactly; but what day of the month, we wondered.For example, Pnin's birthday is February 3rd. According to the Julian calendar, he was born in St. Petersburg in 1898.Now he no longer invites guests to celebrate his birthday, firstly because he has used Gregorian calculations (thirteen days later—no, twelve days) since he left Russia, so he can get away with it; This school year mainly pursues a life tone of doing one's own thing and not being sociable. Right now, he's writing a date on the chalky blackboard he jokingly calls a grayboard.I still feel the weight of the "Literary Treasury" under my armpit.The date he writes has nothing to do with Wendell's day:

December 26, 1829 He drilled a big white period carefully, and added another line below it: St. Petersburg, 3:03 p.m. His students Frank Beckman, Rose Balsando, Frank Carroll, Erwin de Hertz, Pretty and Bright Marianne Horn, John Little, Peter Wolkoff and Alan Bradbury Walch, dutifully copied these two lines in their notebooks. Pnin, with a silent smile on his face, sat down at the desk: he had a story to tell.In that absurd Russian grammar book, there is such a line: "Brozhu li ya vdol'ulits shumnih (Whether I wander in the streets of the busy city or not)..." is actually the opening line of a famous poem.In this elementary Russian class, although Puning was only asked to teach oral practice ("Mama, telefon! Brozhu li ya vdol'ulits shumnih. Ot Vladivostoka do Vashingtona 5000 mil'."), he never missed any opportunity to guide him Students roam the realms of literature and history.

In a set of eight quatrains Pushkin describes his dreadful habit of thinking of death wherever he is and whatever he does, scrutinizing each passing day , trying to find a "future anniversary" from the cipher of the date-a certain month and a certain day that will appear on his tombstone at a certain time and place. "'Where fate will take me,' is the unfinished future tense," the excited Pnin read aloud, throwing his head back, and boldly translated sentence by sentence, "'To die in battle, on journey, or in Among the raging waves? Adjacent valley'—dolina, the same word, and now we generally say 'valley'—'would receive my frozen ashes,' poussiere, 'cold ashes' might be more accurate.' Although it doesn't matter to the unconscious body...'"

Pnin reads to the end, then dramatically points to the blackboard with the piece of chalk he still holds, showing how carefully Pushkin noted not only the date when the poem was written, but even the hour. "However," exclaimed Pnin triumphantly, "he died on a completely different day! He died of..." At that moment there was an ominous crackling sound from the back of the chair on which Pnin was leaning. , the whole class couldn't help but let out a burst of youthful laughter, dispelling the tension that could be forgiven. (Sometime, somewhere—Petersburg? Prague?—a clown was playing the piano, and another clown removed the stool he was sitting on, but he remained seated despite having no stool, and went on playing his rhapsody, unaffected. Influence. Where? The Bush Circus in Berlin!)