|конкурс Бульвер-Литтона (англ.)
||[июл. 17, 2002|12:05 pm]
Конкурс имени Бульвер-Литтона -- конкурс на худшее предложение, с которого может начаться роман (подробней я о нём писал год назад) -- опубликовал победителей за 2002-й год.|
On reflection, Angela perceived that her relationship with Tom had always been rocky, not quite a roller-coaster ride but more like when the toilet-paper roll gets a little squashed so it
hangs crooked and every time you pull some off you can hear the rest going
bumpity-bumpity in its holder until you go nuts and push it back into shape, a degree of
annoyance that Angela had now almost attained.
Вот несколько мне понравившихся:
Henrietta slept like a log; not your garden variety log, mind you, but one of those phenomenally enormous old-growth South American rain forest logs that is completely enshrouded with luxurious plush green moss and encircling vines with those unworldly twisted rope-like root structures wrenched from the earth and sitting there on its side in the mud and when you try to wake it up just lies there like the enormous moss-covered, vine- enshrouded log in the mud that it is.
И это особенно:
"No use crying over spilt milk" she laughed as she handed him a paper towel to clean up the milk from the toppled carton, which had, in a torrent, poured across the table (a gray formica and chrome art deco reproduction), slowing to a trickle by the time it came to the edge, where it finally dripped to the floor, the droplets exploding on contact and looking like those in the photograph in that old advertisement for the Milk Advisory Board.
И вот ещё:
There was a time when she did not relate to life as though it were on the other side of a mesh screen on which she would press her nose close, inhale dust that was embedded in the corners of the little squares in the grid, sneeze, and back away.
А вот победитель в категории Romance:
Hermann lay with Esmerelda, entwined with one another among love-tangled sheets and he thought how this one constant yet mercurial woman was one whom he could hold in his arms forever, although eventually he'd have to get up to go to the bathroom.
И вот это ещё очень понравилось:
As he gazed over at his aged and sickly wife lying at his side, he remembered the woman he had once known - the vibrant exciting beauty with a heart of gold and a head full of dreams - and instantly wished he had married her instead.
По-моему, гениально ;)
А вот, помнится, некоторое время назад в ЖЖ был длинное обсуждение возможных путей начать роман. Но ссылки у меня не сохранилось - не кинет ли кто?
Хорошо бы было такой же конкурс по-русски устроить.