Anna Kavan - Ice

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Ice: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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A science fiction metaphysical thriller by a writer who has been garnering cult status
Ice A brilliant and memorable novel, the narrator and a man known as the warden search for an elusive girl in a surreal landscape of ice and snow, the result of a nuclear disaster. The country has been invaded; it is being run by a secret government and is under imminent threat of total nuclear destruction. With the narrator, the reader is swept into a hallucinatory quest through the interminable and encroaching walls of ice.
Written while Kavan was addicted to heroin, it was the last of her novels to be published before she died in 1968. “I have always admired Anna Kavan among the few writers who dared to explore the nocturnal world of our dreams, fantasies, and imagination.”
— Anais Nin, from an unpublished Introduction to
“Ice represents one of the high points of science fiction… a catastrophe novel which goes as far beyond Ballard as Ballard is beyond Wyndham, sailing into the chilly air of metaphysics. It looks sideways at its great contemporary among pornographic novels, Pauline Reage’s
. Even more, it is its own self, mysterious… an enigma—like all the greatest science fiction, approaching despair.”
— Brian Aldiss

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We were alone in the rich room. Persian rugs on the parquet floor, period furniture, on the wall a full length portrait of him by a well-known painter. My worn, shabby, unpressed uniform emphasized, by contrast, the elegant grandeur of his, which had gold emblems on cuffs and shoulders, and, on the chest, the ribbons of various orders. He stood up; I had not remembered him as being so tall. The touch of the grand manner he had always had was more marked than when I last saw him. I was not at ease. His presence affected me in the usual way; but, with such obvious differences between us, the idea of contact, however obscure, seemed inappropriate and embarrassing. When he said coldly, ‘It’s no use forcing your way in here. I’m just leaving,’ I felt confused, and could only repeat: ‘I must speak to you first.’ ‘Impossible. I’m late as it is.’ He glanced at his watch, started towards the door. ‘Surely you can wait just a moment!’ In my anxiety, I hurriedly stepped in front of him. I should have known better. His eyes flashed; he was angry; I had thrown away my one chance. I cursed myself for a fool. Perhaps my downcast expression amused him: at all events, his attitude suddenly seemed to change, he half smiled. ‘I can’t hold up the entire war just to talk to you. If there’s something you must say, you’ll have to come with me.’ I was delighted. This was better than anything I had expected. ‘May I? That’s wonderful!’ I thanked him enthusiastically. He burst out laughing.

The road to the airfield was lined with people waiting to catch a glimpse of him as we drove past. They stood six deep at the roadside, watched from gardens, windows, balconies, roofs, trees, hoardings, telegraph poles. Some of them must have waited a long time. I was impressed by the force of his immediate impact on the crowd.

Sitting beside him in the plane, I was conscious of curious glances from its other occupants. It was strange to look down and see the earth, not flat or gently curved, but as a segment of a round ball, the sea light blue, the land yellowish-green. Overhead it was dark blue night. Drinks were brought, I was handed a tinkling glass. ‘Ice! What luxury!’ He glanced my dilapidated uniform, made a grimace. ‘You can’t expect luxury if you insist on being a hero.’ The words were mocking, but the smile had some degree of charm. He might even have been taking a friendly interest. ‘May I ask why you have suddenly become one of our heroic fighters?’ I knew I should have spoken about a job. Instead, for some reason, told him I’d had to do something drastic to cure my depression. ‘Funny sort of cure. More likely to kill you.’ ‘Perhaps that’s what I wanted.’ ‘No, you’re not the suicide type. Anyway, why bother, when we’re all going to be killed next week.’ ‘As soon as that?’ ‘Well, perhaps not literally. But certainly very soon.’ I recognized the trick of blinking his eyes, making the bright blue pupils flash as if they reflected a dazzling blue light. It was the sign that something had not been said. Of course, he had secret information. He always knew everything before anyone else.

An enormous dinner was served. It seemed altogether too lavish, I could not eat half of it. I had got out of the way of eating big meals. Afterwards I tried again to say what I had come to say, but the sentences would not take shape in my head. I found myself thinking of him, and remarked on how little surprise he had shown over my arrival. ‘I was almost expecting you.’ His expression was rather odd. ‘You have a way of turning up just before things happen.’ He seemed to speak quite seriously. ‘You really expect the catastrophe within weeks or days?’ ‘Looks like it.’

Blinds were drawn, shutting out the sky. A film was to be shown. He muttered in my ear: ‘Wait till their attention’s fixed on the screen. Then I’ll show you something more interesting. It’s supposed to be kept secret.’ I waited, curious. We left our seats quietly, went through a door, faced an uncovered window. I was confused about time. It had been night overhead all along, but below it was still daylight. There were no clouds. I saw islands scattered over the sea, a normal aerial view. Then something extraordinary, out of this world: a wall of rainbow ice jutting up from the sea, cutting right across, pushing a ridge of water ahead of it as it moved, as if the flat pale surface of sea was a carpet being rolled up. It was a sinister, fascinating sight, which did not seem intended for human eyes. I stared down at it, seeing other things at the same time. The ice world spreading over our world. Mountainous walls of ice surrounding the girl. Her moonwhite skin, her hair sparkling with diamond prisms under the moon. The moon’s dead eye watching the death of our world.

When we left the plane we were in a remote country, a town I did not know. The warden had come to attend an important conference, people were waiting for him, all sorts of urgent affairs. I was flattered because he seemed in no hurry to leave me. He said: ‘You should have a look round, it’s an interesting place.’ The town had only lately changed hands, and I asked if the troops had not done a lot of damage; received the reply: ‘Don’t forget some of us are civilized people.’

In his splendid uniform he strolled beside me in beautifully- kept gardens, attended by armed guards in black and gold. I was proud to be with him. He was a fine-looking man who kept himself in every way at the height of his powers, all his muscles exercised like an athlete’s, his intellect and his senses deliberately sharpened. He radiated tremendous dominance, besides an intense physical vitality, zest for living. His aura of power and success seemed to fill the surrounding air, and even extend to me. Walking past artificial cascades, we came to a lily pool where the stream widened. Giant willowtrees trailed long green hair in the water, made an inviting grotto of cool green shade. We sat on a stone seat, watched a kingfisher tracing jewelled parabolas. Motionless grey shadows, herons stood here and there in the shallows. It was a private, peaceful idyllic scene; violence was worlds away. I thought, but did not say, that it seemed a pity people were not allowed to enjoy all this tranquil beauty. As if he read my mind, he told me: ‘The public used to be admitted on certain days. But we had to suspend the practice on account of vandalism. Hooligans did the damage the armies refrained from doing. There are people you can’t teach to appreciate beauty. They’re subhuman.’

On the far side of the river a troop of small gazelle-like creatures had come to drink, lifting and lowering graceful horned heads. The guards stood at a distance. Alone with my companion, I felt closer to him than ever before; we were like brothers, like identical twin brothers. Drawn to him more strongly than I had ever been, I had to give my feelings some expression, told him how much I appreciated his kindness how greatly I was honoured to be his friend. Something was wrong. He did not smile or acknowledge the compliment, but abruptly stood up. I got up too, while across the water the animals fled, alarmed by our movements. The atmosphere was changing round me; suddenly there was a chill, as if the warm air had passed over ice. I felt a sudden uncomprehended terror, like the sensation that comes in nightmares just before one begins to fall.

In a moment he had turned on me, his eyes flashing blue danger, his face a grim mask. ‘Where is she?’ His voice was fierce, curt, icy. It was as if he had whipped out a gun and pointed it at me. I was horrified; confused by the sudden switch from one emotion to another totally different, I could only stammer stupidly: ‘I suppose where I left her….’ He gave me a look of ice. ‘You mean you don’t know?’ His accusatory tone froze. I was too appalled to reply.

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