Поэтичность западных авторов
Автор: Zoe GlitchВ вопросе художественности западные писатели аскетичны и позволяют себе немногое. Их стиль описания природы и окружающей красоты скуп и немногословен.
Воспевший природу великий Роберт Фрост:
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
Рассказ-победитель Небьюлы 2019:
Everything here is so strange, Saul. The light is too colorless and the air tastes weird. The walls and the shelves seem to bend slightly. It’s all new and deeply alien.
It’s wonderful.
Роджер Желязны, The Keys to December
When they awakened that first time, they stayed within the Worldchange installation at the place called Deadland. The world was already colder and the edges of the sky were tinted with pink. The metal walls of the great installation were black and rimed with frost. The atmosphere was still lethal and the temperature far too high.
IT WAS a bitter winter. The stormy weather was followed by sleet and snow, and then by a hard frost which did not break till well into February. The animals carried on as best they could with the rebuilding of the windmill, well knowing that the outside world was watching them and that the envious human beings would rejoice and triumph if the mill were not finished on time.
William H. Weber, America Offline, Zero Day (проходной апок-боевик)
They had been warned about the coming storm. The forecasters had said the Midwest was about to get dumped on. There had even been a few inches of accumulation before heading to bed. Still, the sight before him now was something else. The snow that had fallen overnight had come in feet rather than inches, making it impossible to tell where the lawn ended and the road began. All of that was now a single, amorphous white blob.
Здесь, конечно же, бывают случаи другого порядка. Все они касаются необходимости передать драматичность момента: зарождение нового мира и надежды для целой расы, смертельная опасность незнакомой территории, предсмертный монолог.
Опять Желязны, Ключи к декабрю
Quick, a world in 300 words or less! Picture this...
One land mass, really, containing three black and brackish looking seas; gray plains and yellow plains and skies the color of dry sand; shallow forests with trees like mushrooms which have been swabbed with iodine; no mountains, just hills brown, yellow, white, lavender; green birds with wings like parachutes, bills like sickles, feathers like oak leaves, an inside-out umbrella behind; six very distant moons, like spots before the eyes in daytime; grass like mustard in the moister valleys; mists like white fire on windless mornings, albino serpents when the air's astir; radiating chasms, like fractures in frosted windowpanes; hidden caverns, like chains of dark bubbles; seventeen known dangerous predators, ranging from one to six meters
in length, excessively furred and fanged; sudden hailstorms, like hurled hammerheads from a clear sky; an icecap like a blue beret at either flattened pole; nervous bipeds a meter and a half in height, short on cerebrum, which wander the shallow forests and prey upon the giant caterpillar's larva, as well as the giant caterpillar, the green bird, the blind burrower, and the offal-eating murkbeast; seventeen mighty rivers; clouds like pregnant purple cows, which quickly cross the land to lie-in beyond the visible east; stands of windblasted stones like frozen music; nights like soot, to obscure the lesser stars; valleys which flow like the torsos of women or instruments of music; perpetual frost in places of shadow; sounds in the morning like the cracking of ice, the trembling oftin, the snapping of steel strands...
They knew they would turn it to heaven.
Frank Herbert, The Dune
The sun dipped lower.
Shadows stretched across the salt pan. Lines of wild color spread over the sunset horizon. Color streamed into a toe of darkness testing the sand. Coal-colored shadows spread, and the thick collapse of night blotted the desert.
Stars!
И бессмертный монолог Роя Бэтти
I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die.
Какой тут вывод?
Описания красоты это важный акцент, и его стоит применять стратегически, когда необходимо выделить самый важный момент части. Иначе текст рискует превратиться в комнату, полную золотой отделки в самых ненужных местах.