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夭賳丿诏蹖 賵丕賯毓蹖 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 賳丕蹖鬲
賵賯鬲蹖 讴鬲丕亘 芦夭賳丿诏蹖 賵丕賯毓蹖 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 賳丕蹖鬲禄貙 丕孬乇 賵賱丕丿蹖賲蹖乇 賳丕亘丕讴賵賮 乇丕 亘丕夭 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗃屬呚� 讴鬲丕亘 賳賮爻蹖 賲蹖鈥屭┴簇� 賵 夭賳丿诏蹖 丌睾丕夭 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗀�. 讴鬲丕亘 丿乇 鄄郯 賮氐賱 夭賳丿诏蹖 禺賵丿 亘丕 禺賵丕賳賳丿賴貙 丨鬲丕 賱丨馗賴鈥屫й� 趩卮賲 亘乇賴賲 賳賲蹖鈥屭柏ж必� 賵 賴賲賵丕乇賴 賵乇賯 賲蹖鈥屫堌必�. 丿乇 丕蹖賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 賳丕蹖鬲貙 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴鈥屫й� 丕爻鬲 讴賴 丿丕爻鬲丕賳鈥屬囏й屰� 賲蹖鈥屬嗁堐屫池� 賵 讴鬲丕亘鈥屬囏й� 亘爻蹖丕乇蹖 丕夭 丕賵 趩丕倬 卮丿賴 丕爻鬲. 丕賵 爻丕賱 郾鄹酃酃 丿乇 乇賵爻蹖賴 趩卮賲 亘賴 噩賴丕賳 賲蹖鈥屭簇й屫� 賵 丿乇 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 丌禺乇蹖 讴賴 賳賵卮鬲賴貙 禺賵丿 丕賵 卮禺氐蹖鬲 丕氐賱蹖 賵 睾丕蹖亘 丌賳 丕爻鬲.
卮讴賱 讴賱蹖 丕孬乇:
亘賴 賳馗乇 賲蹖鈥屫必池� 讴賴 卮讴賱鈥屫ㄙ嗀� 讴賱蹖 讴鬲丕亘貙 胤乇丨蹖 丕夭 卮胤乇賳噩 丿丕卮鬲賴 亘丕卮丿. 丿乇 賴乇 賮氐賱貙 丨乇讴鬲 蹖讴 賲賴乇賴 亘賴 賳賲丕蹖卮 诏匕丕卮鬲賴 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 賵 亘丕夭蹖 亘丕 鄄郯 丨乇讴鬲 (鄄郯 賮氐賱) 鬲賲丕賲 賲蹖鈥屫促堌�. 丿乇 丌禺乇 卮丕賴 (禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 賭 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴) 賲丕鬲 賲蹖鈥屫促堌�. 丿乇 夭亘丕賳 丕賳诏賱蹖爻蹖貙 賳丕蹖鬲
(knight)
賲賴乇賴鈥屰� 丕爻亘 丿乇 卮胤乇賳噩 丕爻鬲 讴賴 丕夭 丕蹖賳 讴賱賲賴鈥屰� 讴賱蹖丿蹖 丿乇 胤賵賱 乇賲丕賳 亘乇丕蹖 賮囟丕爻丕夭蹖 氐賮丨賴鈥屰� 卮胤乇賳噩 丕爻鬲賮丕丿賴 賲蹖鈥屫促堌�. 丕夭 噩賲賱賴貙 丿乇 氐 郾鄞郾 讴賴 丿乇 胤賵賱 丌賳 爻胤賵乇貙 亘賴 爻蹖丕賴 賵 爻賮蹖丿蹖 賲賴乇賴鈥屬囏� 丕卮丕乇賴 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 賵 丨鬲丕 丌丿賲鈥屬囏� 亘丕 賲賴乇賴鈥屬囏й� 爻蹖丕賴 賵 爻賮蹖丿卮丕賳 賲賵乇丿 禺胤丕亘 賯乇丕乇 賲蹖鈥屭屫辟嗀�. 芦爻蹖丕賴 鬲毓馗蹖賲 讴乇丿鈥� 爻蹖丕賴 亘賴 胤乇夭蹖 賲亘賴賲 诏賮鬲:鈥� 賵賯鬲蹖 睾乇卮 爻賮蹖丿 倬丕蹖丕賳 蹖丕賮鬲貙 芦爻蹖丕賴禄 丌乇丕賲 诏賮鬲:鈥� 賴賳诏丕賲蹖 讴賴 亘乇 爻乇 丌賳 丨乇讴鬲 賲卮丕噩乇賴 賲蹖鈥屭┴必嗀� 賵 芦爻賮蹖丿禄 爻毓蹖 賲蹖鈥屭┴必� 丨乇讴鬲卮 乇丕 倬爻 亘诏蹖乇丿貙鈥� 丿蹖丿賲 丕賵 亘丕禺鬲賴 賵 芦爻蹖丕賴禄 丿丕乇丿 賲賴乇賴鈥屬囏� 鈥� 亘賴 噩夭 丌賳 丕賳诏卮鬲丕賳賴 鈥� 乇丕 丿乇 噩毓亘賴鈥屰� 賲賯賵丕蹖蹖 讴賴賳賴鈥屫й� 賲蹖鈥屭柏ж必�.禄
賳丕賲 讴鬲丕亘 丕卮丕乇賴鈥屰� 丕蹖賴丕賲鈥屫з嗂屫槽� 亘賴 賮囟丕蹖 讴賱蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賵 賲賵囟賵毓 丌賳 丿丕乇丿. 丿乇 馗丕賴乇貙 賳丕賲 卮禺氐蹖鬲 丕氐賱蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 亘乇 讴鬲丕亘 诏匕丕卮鬲賴 卮丿賴 丕爻鬲. 丕賲丕 賳丕賲 亘丕 胤乇丨 讴賱蹖 讴鬲丕亘貙 賮囟丕蹖 讴賱蹖 丌賳 賵 丨乇讴鬲 賳賴丕蹖蹖 賲賴乇賴鈥屰� 丕爻亘 賲乇鬲亘胤 丕爻鬲. 鬲賱賮馗 讴賱賲賴 賳丕蹖鬲
(night)
蹖丕丿丌賵乇 卮亘 (爻蹖丕賴) 丕爻鬲 讴賴 鬲賵氐蹖賮丕鬲 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 丕夭 卮亘 賵 爻鬲丕乇賴鈥屬囏� 賵 丌爻賲丕賳 丿乇 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賮乇丕賵丕賳 丕爻鬲 賵 賳蹖夭 賲乇诏 丕毓噩丕亘鈥屫①堌� 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 讴賴 丨乇讴鬲 倬丕蹖丕賳蹖 賲賴乇賴鈥屰� 丕爻亘 丕爻鬲. 丕夭 噩賲賱賴: 氐 郾鄢鄹 芦卮亘 丕爻鬲. 丌爻賲丕賳 丕夭 爻鬲丕乇诏丕賳 噩丕賳 诏乇賮鬲賴 丕爻鬲. 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 爻丕賱鈥屬囏� 亘毓丿 賳賵卮鬲 讴賴 禺蹖乇賴 卮丿賳 亘賴 爻鬲丕乇诏丕賳貙 賲丕賳賳丿 賳诏丕賴 讴乇丿賳 亘賴 丕賲毓丕 賵 丕丨卮丕蹖 亘蹖乇賵賳 乇蹖禺鬲賴鈥屰� 蹖讴 丨蹖賵丕賳貙 丕丨爻丕爻 趩賳丿卮 賵 鬲賴賵毓 亘賴 丕賵 賲蹖鈥屫囏�. 丕賲丕 丿乇 丌賳 夭賲丕賳 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 賴賳賵夭 賮讴乇 賵 丕丨爻丕爻卮 乇丕 亘蹖丕賳 賳讴乇丿賴. 鬲丕乇蹖讴 賽 鬲丕乇蹖讴 丕爻鬲. 鈥β�
卮讴賱 讴賱蹖 丕孬乇:
亘賴 賳馗乇 賲蹖鈥屫必池� 讴賴 卮讴賱鈥屫ㄙ嗀� 讴賱蹖 讴鬲丕亘貙 胤乇丨蹖 丕夭 卮胤乇賳噩 丿丕卮鬲賴 亘丕卮丿. 丿乇 賴乇 賮氐賱貙 丨乇讴鬲 蹖讴 賲賴乇賴 亘賴 賳賲丕蹖卮 诏匕丕卮鬲賴 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 賵 亘丕夭蹖 亘丕 鄄郯 丨乇讴鬲 (鄄郯 賮氐賱) 鬲賲丕賲 賲蹖鈥屫促堌�. 丿乇 丌禺乇 卮丕賴 (禺賵丕賳賳丿賴 賭 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴) 賲丕鬲 賲蹖鈥屫促堌�. 丿乇 夭亘丕賳 丕賳诏賱蹖爻蹖貙 賳丕蹖鬲
(knight)
賲賴乇賴鈥屰� 丕爻亘 丿乇 卮胤乇賳噩 丕爻鬲 讴賴 丕夭 丕蹖賳 讴賱賲賴鈥屰� 讴賱蹖丿蹖 丿乇 胤賵賱 乇賲丕賳 亘乇丕蹖 賮囟丕爻丕夭蹖 氐賮丨賴鈥屰� 卮胤乇賳噩 丕爻鬲賮丕丿賴 賲蹖鈥屫促堌�. 丕夭 噩賲賱賴貙 丿乇 氐 郾鄞郾 讴賴 丿乇 胤賵賱 丌賳 爻胤賵乇貙 亘賴 爻蹖丕賴 賵 爻賮蹖丿蹖 賲賴乇賴鈥屬囏� 丕卮丕乇賴 賲蹖鈥屫促堌� 賵 丨鬲丕 丌丿賲鈥屬囏� 亘丕 賲賴乇賴鈥屬囏й� 爻蹖丕賴 賵 爻賮蹖丿卮丕賳 賲賵乇丿 禺胤丕亘 賯乇丕乇 賲蹖鈥屭屫辟嗀�. 芦爻蹖丕賴 鬲毓馗蹖賲 讴乇丿鈥� 爻蹖丕賴 亘賴 胤乇夭蹖 賲亘賴賲 诏賮鬲:鈥� 賵賯鬲蹖 睾乇卮 爻賮蹖丿 倬丕蹖丕賳 蹖丕賮鬲貙 芦爻蹖丕賴禄 丌乇丕賲 诏賮鬲:鈥� 賴賳诏丕賲蹖 讴賴 亘乇 爻乇 丌賳 丨乇讴鬲 賲卮丕噩乇賴 賲蹖鈥屭┴必嗀� 賵 芦爻賮蹖丿禄 爻毓蹖 賲蹖鈥屭┴必� 丨乇讴鬲卮 乇丕 倬爻 亘诏蹖乇丿貙鈥� 丿蹖丿賲 丕賵 亘丕禺鬲賴 賵 芦爻蹖丕賴禄 丿丕乇丿 賲賴乇賴鈥屬囏� 鈥� 亘賴 噩夭 丌賳 丕賳诏卮鬲丕賳賴 鈥� 乇丕 丿乇 噩毓亘賴鈥屰� 賲賯賵丕蹖蹖 讴賴賳賴鈥屫й� 賲蹖鈥屭柏ж必�.禄
賳丕賲 讴鬲丕亘 丕卮丕乇賴鈥屰� 丕蹖賴丕賲鈥屫з嗂屫槽� 亘賴 賮囟丕蹖 讴賱蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賵 賲賵囟賵毓 丌賳 丿丕乇丿. 丿乇 馗丕賴乇貙 賳丕賲 卮禺氐蹖鬲 丕氐賱蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 亘乇 讴鬲丕亘 诏匕丕卮鬲賴 卮丿賴 丕爻鬲. 丕賲丕 賳丕賲 亘丕 胤乇丨 讴賱蹖 讴鬲丕亘貙 賮囟丕蹖 讴賱蹖 丌賳 賵 丨乇讴鬲 賳賴丕蹖蹖 賲賴乇賴鈥屰� 丕爻亘 賲乇鬲亘胤 丕爻鬲. 鬲賱賮馗 讴賱賲賴 賳丕蹖鬲
(night)
蹖丕丿丌賵乇 卮亘 (爻蹖丕賴) 丕爻鬲 讴賴 鬲賵氐蹖賮丕鬲 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 丕夭 卮亘 賵 爻鬲丕乇賴鈥屬囏� 賵 丌爻賲丕賳 丿乇 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賮乇丕賵丕賳 丕爻鬲 賵 賳蹖夭 賲乇诏 丕毓噩丕亘鈥屫①堌� 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 讴賴 丨乇讴鬲 倬丕蹖丕賳蹖 賲賴乇賴鈥屰� 丕爻亘 丕爻鬲. 丕夭 噩賲賱賴: 氐 郾鄢鄹 芦卮亘 丕爻鬲. 丌爻賲丕賳 丕夭 爻鬲丕乇诏丕賳 噩丕賳 诏乇賮鬲賴 丕爻鬲. 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 爻丕賱鈥屬囏� 亘毓丿 賳賵卮鬲 讴賴 禺蹖乇賴 卮丿賳 亘賴 爻鬲丕乇诏丕賳貙 賲丕賳賳丿 賳诏丕賴 讴乇丿賳 亘賴 丕賲毓丕 賵 丕丨卮丕蹖 亘蹖乇賵賳 乇蹖禺鬲賴鈥屰� 蹖讴 丨蹖賵丕賳貙 丕丨爻丕爻 趩賳丿卮 賵 鬲賴賵毓 亘賴 丕賵 賲蹖鈥屫囏�. 丕賲丕 丿乇 丌賳 夭賲丕賳 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 賴賳賵夭 賮讴乇 賵 丕丨爻丕爻卮 乇丕 亘蹖丕賳 賳讴乇丿賴. 鬲丕乇蹖讴 賽 鬲丕乇蹖讴 丕爻鬲. 鈥β�
224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1941
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About the author
Vladimir Nabokov
834听books14.4k听followersRussian:
袙谢邪写懈屑懈褉 袧邪斜芯泻芯胁
.
Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov, also known by the pen name Vladimir Sirin, was a Russian-American novelist. Nabokov wrote his first nine novels in Russian, then rose to international prominence as a master English prose stylist. He also made significant contributions to lepidoptery, and had a big interest in chess problems.
Nabokov's Lolita (1955) is frequently cited as his most important novel, and is at any rate his most widely known one, exhibiting the love of intricate wordplay and descriptive detail that characterized all his works.
Lolita was ranked fourth in the list of the Modern Library 100 Best Novels; Pale Fire (1962) was ranked 53rd on the same list, and his memoir, Speak, Memory (1951), was listed eighth on the publisher's list of the 20th century's greatest nonfiction. He was also a finalist for the National Book Award for Fiction seven times.
Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov, also known by the pen name Vladimir Sirin, was a Russian-American novelist. Nabokov wrote his first nine novels in Russian, then rose to international prominence as a master English prose stylist. He also made significant contributions to lepidoptery, and had a big interest in chess problems.
Nabokov's Lolita (1955) is frequently cited as his most important novel, and is at any rate his most widely known one, exhibiting the love of intricate wordplay and descriptive detail that characterized all his works.
Lolita was ranked fourth in the list of the Modern Library 100 Best Novels; Pale Fire (1962) was ranked 53rd on the same list, and his memoir, Speak, Memory (1951), was listed eighth on the publisher's list of the 20th century's greatest nonfiction. He was also a finalist for the National Book Award for Fiction seven times.
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December 16, 2024
IL NARRATORE INAFFIDABILE
鈥滳itizen Kane 鈥� Quarto potere鈥� il primo film di Orson Welles, scritto, diretto, prodotto, interpretato. 1941. Per l鈥橝FI, la BBC e la rivista 鈥楽ight & Sound鈥� 猫 il miglior film di sempre. Welles amava i giochi di prestigio, i conigli estratti dal cilindro, maschere e travestimenti, proprio come Nabokov era un campione di narratore inaffidabile, di scatole cinesi, di racconto nel racconto.
All鈥檌mprovviso, senza nessunissimo motivo particolare, provai un鈥檌mmensa compassione per lui e una gran voglia di dirgli qualcosa di reale, qualcosa che avesse un cuore e due ali, ma gli uccelli che desideravo mi si posarono sulle spalle e sul capo solo pi霉 tardi, quando ormai ero solo e non avevo pi霉 bisogno di parole.
鈥滿r Arkadin 鈥� Rapporto confidenziale", del 1955. Anche in questo caso Orson Welles fu factotum: sceneggiatore, interprete, regista, produttore.
Il narratore ha sei anni meno del soggetto narrato, il Sebastian Knight del titolo (il cognome di Sebastian fa riferimento agli scacchi nei quali l鈥檌nglese definisce 鈥榢night鈥� il cavallo, e bishop, cio猫 vescovo, l鈥檃lfiere: Clare Bishop 猫 una donna importante nella vita di Sebastian Knight).
Il narratore 猫 il fratellastro minore del soggetto narrato, condivide con il Sebastian del titolo lo stesso padre, ma madre diversa.
Il narratore si fa gioco e sbeffeggia una presunta biografia scritta dal segretario dello stesso Sebastian Knight, ne riporta ampie citazioni, che sono pi霉 o meno ovviamente parto dello stesso narratore, non del segretario, in quanto mai esistito, e neppure di Sebastian Knight, anche lui mai nato e men che meno morto.
鈥滷 for Fake 鈥� F come Falso: Verit脿 e menzogna鈥�, del 1973.
A meno che la creazione letteraria non possa essere considerata un parto, una nascita: alla quale non fa seguito alcuna morte, ma l鈥檈ternit脿 che la letteratura regala.
Altrettanto farlocche, frutto di fantasia e non dato reale, sono le citazioni che il narratore regala al lettore presumibilmente tratte dalle opere composte da Sebastian Knight, principalmente una, intitolata Oggetti smarriti.
鈥滺istoire immortelle 鈥� Storia immortale鈥�, 1968, l鈥檈nnesimo film di Orson Welles, dove si manipola il racconto giocando con specchi e incastri, dove ci貌 che viene spacciato per vero lo 猫 meno di quello che si crede inventato.
Quello che il narratore cela e non dice, l鈥檜nico aspetto che si avvicina alla verit脿, 猫 che questo romanzo di una biografia ha sapor di autobiografia, in quanto Nabokov condivide esperienze di vita con Sebastian Knight. Non per niente del narratore conosciamo solo l鈥檌niziale, V., che potrebbe appunto indicare Vladimir.
Ma per proseguire nella partita a scacchi che Nabokov ha ingaggiato con il lettore, partita per ora soprattutto di cavallo (knight) e alfiere (bishop), la presunta autobiografia 猫 non solo parziale, ma anche piuttosto immaginaria perch茅 i punti del romanzo che nulla hanno a che fare con la vera vita di Vladimir Nabokov sono di ben lunga pi霉 numerosi di quelli che invece potrebbero sovrapporsi.
鈥滾es Trois couronnes du matelot鈥� film del 1983 di Raoul Ruiz, regista cileno emigrato in Francia. Anche Ruiz amava inserire narratori inaffidabili.
A me par chiaro che a Mr Lolita quello che davvero interessa nel raccontarci di Sebastian Knight 猫 l鈥檌mpalcatura letteraria, il resoconto del tentativo di scrivere una biografia pi霉 che la vita di Sebastina Knight in s茅. Nabokov procede per le poco pi霉 di duecento pagine dando un colpo al cerchio (la presunta vera vita di Sebastian Knight) e uno alla botte (la struttura a incastro e specchi, la matrioska, il racconto di un racconto di un racconto) con il doppio effetto che io lettore mi sono incuriosito e divertito seguendo il cerchio, e della botte ho goduto ben pi霉 di molto.
la maschera di Sebastian mi rimane incollata al viso, la somiglianza non potr脿 esser lavata via. Io sono Sebastian, o Sebastian 猫 me, o forse siamo tutti e due qualcuno che n茅 l鈥檜no n茅 l鈥檃ltro conosce.
鈥淟'hypoth猫se du tableau viol茅 鈥� L鈥檌potesi del quadro rubato鈥� 1979, sempre di Raoul Ruiz.
Alla fine poche brevi ma preziose pagine di postfazione firmate Giorgio Manganelli:
Ma in primo luogo vorrei indugiare su questa 鈥淰era vita鈥� e sono certo che scacchi e farfalle troveranno il modo di venirci incontro. Poich茅 Nabokov 猫 interessato non tanto alla narrazione, quanto al programma, al disegno del romanzo, la sua macchina鈥l fratellastro di Sebastian Knight, geniale scrittore morto in giovane et脿, tenta di scriverne la vita; in teoria, il libro dovrebbe essere una biografia immaginaria: non lo 猫. 脠 l鈥檃utobiografia del fratellastro durante i suoi tentativi di trovare materiale per questa 鈥淰era vita鈥�. Per conseguire questi risultati, egli dovr脿 fare delle 鈥榤osse鈥� 鈥� ecco gli scacchi.
Il 鈥淔ight Club鈥� di David Fincher (1999) 猫 un altro bell鈥檈sempio di narrazione inaffidabile. Cos矛 come pure Verbal Kent in 鈥淭he Usual Suspects 鈥� I soliti sospetti鈥� di Bryan Singer (1995), o il dott. Malcom Crowe in 鈥淭he Sixth Sense 鈥� Il sesto senso鈥� di Night Shyamalan (1999). Gli esempi sono tanti: ma quale narratore 猫 pi霉 inaffidabile di un morto che parla come Joe Gillis in 鈥淪unset Boulevard鈥�?!
鈥滳itizen Kane 鈥� Quarto potere鈥� il primo film di Orson Welles, scritto, diretto, prodotto, interpretato. 1941. Per l鈥橝FI, la BBC e la rivista 鈥楽ight & Sound鈥� 猫 il miglior film di sempre. Welles amava i giochi di prestigio, i conigli estratti dal cilindro, maschere e travestimenti, proprio come Nabokov era un campione di narratore inaffidabile, di scatole cinesi, di racconto nel racconto.
All鈥檌mprovviso, senza nessunissimo motivo particolare, provai un鈥檌mmensa compassione per lui e una gran voglia di dirgli qualcosa di reale, qualcosa che avesse un cuore e due ali, ma gli uccelli che desideravo mi si posarono sulle spalle e sul capo solo pi霉 tardi, quando ormai ero solo e non avevo pi霉 bisogno di parole.
鈥滿r Arkadin 鈥� Rapporto confidenziale", del 1955. Anche in questo caso Orson Welles fu factotum: sceneggiatore, interprete, regista, produttore.
Il narratore ha sei anni meno del soggetto narrato, il Sebastian Knight del titolo (il cognome di Sebastian fa riferimento agli scacchi nei quali l鈥檌nglese definisce 鈥榢night鈥� il cavallo, e bishop, cio猫 vescovo, l鈥檃lfiere: Clare Bishop 猫 una donna importante nella vita di Sebastian Knight).
Il narratore 猫 il fratellastro minore del soggetto narrato, condivide con il Sebastian del titolo lo stesso padre, ma madre diversa.
Il narratore si fa gioco e sbeffeggia una presunta biografia scritta dal segretario dello stesso Sebastian Knight, ne riporta ampie citazioni, che sono pi霉 o meno ovviamente parto dello stesso narratore, non del segretario, in quanto mai esistito, e neppure di Sebastian Knight, anche lui mai nato e men che meno morto.
鈥滷 for Fake 鈥� F come Falso: Verit脿 e menzogna鈥�, del 1973.
A meno che la creazione letteraria non possa essere considerata un parto, una nascita: alla quale non fa seguito alcuna morte, ma l鈥檈ternit脿 che la letteratura regala.
Altrettanto farlocche, frutto di fantasia e non dato reale, sono le citazioni che il narratore regala al lettore presumibilmente tratte dalle opere composte da Sebastian Knight, principalmente una, intitolata Oggetti smarriti.
鈥滺istoire immortelle 鈥� Storia immortale鈥�, 1968, l鈥檈nnesimo film di Orson Welles, dove si manipola il racconto giocando con specchi e incastri, dove ci貌 che viene spacciato per vero lo 猫 meno di quello che si crede inventato.
Quello che il narratore cela e non dice, l鈥檜nico aspetto che si avvicina alla verit脿, 猫 che questo romanzo di una biografia ha sapor di autobiografia, in quanto Nabokov condivide esperienze di vita con Sebastian Knight. Non per niente del narratore conosciamo solo l鈥檌niziale, V., che potrebbe appunto indicare Vladimir.
Ma per proseguire nella partita a scacchi che Nabokov ha ingaggiato con il lettore, partita per ora soprattutto di cavallo (knight) e alfiere (bishop), la presunta autobiografia 猫 non solo parziale, ma anche piuttosto immaginaria perch茅 i punti del romanzo che nulla hanno a che fare con la vera vita di Vladimir Nabokov sono di ben lunga pi霉 numerosi di quelli che invece potrebbero sovrapporsi.
鈥滾es Trois couronnes du matelot鈥� film del 1983 di Raoul Ruiz, regista cileno emigrato in Francia. Anche Ruiz amava inserire narratori inaffidabili.
A me par chiaro che a Mr Lolita quello che davvero interessa nel raccontarci di Sebastian Knight 猫 l鈥檌mpalcatura letteraria, il resoconto del tentativo di scrivere una biografia pi霉 che la vita di Sebastina Knight in s茅. Nabokov procede per le poco pi霉 di duecento pagine dando un colpo al cerchio (la presunta vera vita di Sebastian Knight) e uno alla botte (la struttura a incastro e specchi, la matrioska, il racconto di un racconto di un racconto) con il doppio effetto che io lettore mi sono incuriosito e divertito seguendo il cerchio, e della botte ho goduto ben pi霉 di molto.
la maschera di Sebastian mi rimane incollata al viso, la somiglianza non potr脿 esser lavata via. Io sono Sebastian, o Sebastian 猫 me, o forse siamo tutti e due qualcuno che n茅 l鈥檜no n茅 l鈥檃ltro conosce.
鈥淟'hypoth猫se du tableau viol茅 鈥� L鈥檌potesi del quadro rubato鈥� 1979, sempre di Raoul Ruiz.
Alla fine poche brevi ma preziose pagine di postfazione firmate Giorgio Manganelli:
Ma in primo luogo vorrei indugiare su questa 鈥淰era vita鈥� e sono certo che scacchi e farfalle troveranno il modo di venirci incontro. Poich茅 Nabokov 猫 interessato non tanto alla narrazione, quanto al programma, al disegno del romanzo, la sua macchina鈥l fratellastro di Sebastian Knight, geniale scrittore morto in giovane et脿, tenta di scriverne la vita; in teoria, il libro dovrebbe essere una biografia immaginaria: non lo 猫. 脠 l鈥檃utobiografia del fratellastro durante i suoi tentativi di trovare materiale per questa 鈥淰era vita鈥�. Per conseguire questi risultati, egli dovr脿 fare delle 鈥榤osse鈥� 鈥� ecco gli scacchi.
Il 鈥淔ight Club鈥� di David Fincher (1999) 猫 un altro bell鈥檈sempio di narrazione inaffidabile. Cos矛 come pure Verbal Kent in 鈥淭he Usual Suspects 鈥� I soliti sospetti鈥� di Bryan Singer (1995), o il dott. Malcom Crowe in 鈥淭he Sixth Sense 鈥� Il sesto senso鈥� di Night Shyamalan (1999). Gli esempi sono tanti: ma quale narratore 猫 pi霉 inaffidabile di un morto che parla come Joe Gillis in 鈥淪unset Boulevard鈥�?!
June 5, 2024
It seems a little odd to give this top marks, only then to decide it's placed forth in my top 5 Nabokov reads so far. 'Pale Fire' is probably the best novel I have ever read (at least in my top three of all time), with 'Lolita' my second favourite Nab, and 'Laughter in the Dark' coming home in third claiming the Nab bronze medal. 'The Real Life of Sebastian Knight' written whilst Vlad was in Paris in the late 30's (and his first penned in the English language) caught me by complete surprise. Because to be honest, I didn't think it could get anywhere near the aforementioned novels. I believed it would be nothing more than a mid-afternoon snack, but it almost turned into a lavishing three course meal of the finest literature cuisine. And it's funny how I referred to dinner, as this now makes me want to gobble up as many Nabokov books as possible, maybe even one day with pipe and slippers completing a clean sweep!
The format of this novel made it highly addictive to read, but it isn't without the mind-boggling details and layers of narration that do create a challenge. Maybe even bringing on a mild headache. Nabokov combines the page-turning aspect of a the detective genre with the complexities and characteristics of highbrow literature, making it the sort of read for both a mahogany enriched library and a summer beach house. The Real Life of Sebastian Knight is the narrator, V.鈥檚, biography of his recently deceased half brother, the renowned author Sebastian Knight. Nabokov鈥檚 book is supposedly written by V., who is writing about the works of another author, forming a dense, three-layered cake of authorship. While this could potentially bog the book down, turning it into a tiresome postmodernist exercise in metafiction, it does no such thing. Nabokov鈥檚 grace, wit and wonderful prose, keeps the narrative shimmering with life, with the lively narrator, splicing his often-humorous commentary with keen observations of his subject and the world around him making it all the more readable.
This could be looked at as Nabokov yet to hit the great heights that followed in the years to come, but the themes within The Real Life of Sebastian Knight were as interesting as anything I have read by him before. The heart of the novel consists of loving summaries of Sebastian鈥檚 own books, including copious quotations from them, which enable Nabokov to develop a philosophy of literature without seeming to do so. A voluble attack upon an earlier biography, 'The Tragedy of Sebastian Knight', written by Knight鈥檚 former secretary, which gives Nabokov the chance to mock certain tendencies in literary scholarship and criticism. And the half-bother narrator's quest for the truth about his love affairs with two different women. Clare, to whom Sebastian was sort of married for a few years, and the Russian woman for whom he left her for, even though she made him sick with misery.
Nabokov has the narrator doing an awful lot of travelling, from Russia, to Paris (where most of the novel takes place) to Berlin, trying to gather as much information as possible to write his own book on his beloved half-brother. As the story proceeds in a series of almost Knight moves,(the novel is full of chess allusions) it becomes a thoroughly engaging piece of writing. Whilst it can be relaxing to put your feet up with a good book that doesn't require much in the way of brain work, more often than not, it's the more challenging books that allow the reader to indulge fully with the text, even if we feel that the writer is trying to drive uncommitted and lazy readers up the wall.
I loved it. But it may be a novel only Nabokov lovers will appreciate the most. Not an ideal place to start for the Vladimir virgin.
Read
October 30, 2017I've always had a problem with how I appear in photographs - the image I see never matches the image I have of myself, the one I鈥檝e retained from looking in the mirror every morning of my life. I鈥檝e often wondered what the difference is, and figured that, apart from the split in my hair being on the opposite side, it may be because the photo shows only what the camera sees, someone looking vaguely in its direction, while the mirror offers a more 'concentrated me', the 鈥榬eal me鈥�, the one with eyes that really see instead of merely looking.
If I鈥檝e been thinking about mirrors, it鈥檚 because this book prompts the reader to look beyond its obvious surface, and step into the mirror image beneath. That prompt didn鈥檛 reach me until the half-way line coincidently; I struggled on the 鈥榮urface' side of the story for the first half, reading words without really seeing them. Then suddenly I could 鈥榮ee鈥�. I鈥檇 found my way to the other side and the characters in the story began to slot into their places as if they were pieces moving on a chess board. Speaking of chess boards, isn鈥檛 the half-way line on a chess board like the surface of a mirror? The chess pieces in their starting positions are reflections, not as a camera would view them but as a mirror does, queen opposite queen, king opposite king.
The starting positions of the characters in this book also offer mirror comparisons. There is the writer Sebastian Knight, author of several books, including an autobiography, the contents of which are revealed little by little. There is his step-brother, the would-be writer of a biography of Sebastian, and the narrator of the book we are reading. But this step-brother figure who mirrors Knight so closely is a mystery; we wonder if he really exists since Knight鈥檚 secretary announces at the beginning that he has never heard of him and that there had been no mention of him in Knight's autobiography. We begin to wonder if this unnamed narrator-brother is simply a mirror device to reveal 鈥榯he real life of Sebastian Knight? Whatever his function, we become involved in his long slow quest to fill the gaps in Sebastian鈥檚 history. The narrator announces early on that he has never written anything before and Nabokov cleverly gives him a hesitant style at the beginning and has him resort to the odd clich茅, waxing sentimental, to take pen in hand, to face the inevitable, but he soon gets into his stride.
We are given a brief account of the life of the mother of the mirror-image half-brothers in the first chapter, though it only increases the sense of mystery. We learn that she abandoned her husband and young Sebastian in order to lead a vagabond life in the company of various men friends. But almost exactly in the middle of the book, a pivotal thing happens: we hear the details of the mother's story again but they refer to another character entirely.
My interest really began to pick up from this point in the book onwards though the author continues to lead the reader on a convoluted trip, concealing while revealing in a series of spider moves, more often sideways than straight on, like raindrops on a window pane: they did not trickle straight but in a jerky dubious, zig-zag course, pausing every now and then, reminding us yet again of a chess board.
I became more and more aware of literary references and coincidences as I read on. All of of Knight's five 鈥榖ooks鈥� are discussed. The first is a pastiche of the detective story genre which had me desperately chasing after 鈥榗lues鈥� to a possible murder. The second is about coincidences, those moments in people鈥檚 lives when unknowingly to one another they all but met, which made me even more attentive to the text, and I did find several examples of such missed meetings. The third of Knight's 鈥榖ooks鈥� is called 鈥楾he Funny Mountain鈥� and as Sebastian spends some time at a mountain sanatorium, I thought of and started looking for parallels to that.
The Sebastian Knight 鈥榖ook鈥� most extensively quoted is his autobiography, 鈥楲ost Property鈥�. Large sections of this are given and we wonder why we are not simply reading 'Lost Property' instead of the book we are reading, another example of the mirroring theme.
Sebastian Knight's last book 鈥楾he Doubtful Asphodel鈥� is the final example of mirroring.
In the second half of , a character, speaking about literature, said he preferred books that 鈥渕ade you think, and Knight鈥檚 books didn鈥檛 - they left you cross and puzzled.鈥�
I鈥檇 like to paraphrase that and say that Nabokov鈥檚 books may make you cross and puzzled for a while but they absolutely make you think, and when you鈥檝e done your thinking, they reward you endlessly. I found clues in this book to and , both of which I've recently read, and I'm sure I'll be reminded of this book again when I read my next Nabokov.
If I鈥檝e been thinking about mirrors, it鈥檚 because this book prompts the reader to look beyond its obvious surface, and step into the mirror image beneath. That prompt didn鈥檛 reach me until the half-way line coincidently; I struggled on the 鈥榮urface' side of the story for the first half, reading words without really seeing them. Then suddenly I could 鈥榮ee鈥�. I鈥檇 found my way to the other side and the characters in the story began to slot into their places as if they were pieces moving on a chess board. Speaking of chess boards, isn鈥檛 the half-way line on a chess board like the surface of a mirror? The chess pieces in their starting positions are reflections, not as a camera would view them but as a mirror does, queen opposite queen, king opposite king.
The starting positions of the characters in this book also offer mirror comparisons. There is the writer Sebastian Knight, author of several books, including an autobiography, the contents of which are revealed little by little. There is his step-brother, the would-be writer of a biography of Sebastian, and the narrator of the book we are reading. But this step-brother figure who mirrors Knight so closely is a mystery; we wonder if he really exists since Knight鈥檚 secretary announces at the beginning that he has never heard of him and that there had been no mention of him in Knight's autobiography. We begin to wonder if this unnamed narrator-brother is simply a mirror device to reveal 鈥榯he real life of Sebastian Knight? Whatever his function, we become involved in his long slow quest to fill the gaps in Sebastian鈥檚 history. The narrator announces early on that he has never written anything before and Nabokov cleverly gives him a hesitant style at the beginning and has him resort to the odd clich茅, waxing sentimental, to take pen in hand, to face the inevitable, but he soon gets into his stride.
We are given a brief account of the life of the mother of the mirror-image half-brothers in the first chapter, though it only increases the sense of mystery. We learn that she abandoned her husband and young Sebastian in order to lead a vagabond life in the company of various men friends. But almost exactly in the middle of the book, a pivotal thing happens: we hear the details of the mother's story again but they refer to another character entirely.
My interest really began to pick up from this point in the book onwards though the author continues to lead the reader on a convoluted trip, concealing while revealing in a series of spider moves, more often sideways than straight on, like raindrops on a window pane: they did not trickle straight but in a jerky dubious, zig-zag course, pausing every now and then, reminding us yet again of a chess board.
I became more and more aware of literary references and coincidences as I read on. All of of Knight's five 鈥榖ooks鈥� are discussed. The first is a pastiche of the detective story genre which had me desperately chasing after 鈥榗lues鈥� to a possible murder. The second is about coincidences, those moments in people鈥檚 lives when unknowingly to one another they all but met, which made me even more attentive to the text, and I did find several examples of such missed meetings. The third of Knight's 鈥榖ooks鈥� is called 鈥楾he Funny Mountain鈥� and as Sebastian spends some time at a mountain sanatorium, I thought of and started looking for parallels to that.
The Sebastian Knight 鈥榖ook鈥� most extensively quoted is his autobiography, 鈥楲ost Property鈥�. Large sections of this are given and we wonder why we are not simply reading 'Lost Property' instead of the book we are reading, another example of the mirroring theme.
Sebastian Knight's last book 鈥楾he Doubtful Asphodel鈥� is the final example of mirroring.
In the second half of , a character, speaking about literature, said he preferred books that 鈥渕ade you think, and Knight鈥檚 books didn鈥檛 - they left you cross and puzzled.鈥�
I鈥檇 like to paraphrase that and say that Nabokov鈥檚 books may make you cross and puzzled for a while but they absolutely make you think, and when you鈥檝e done your thinking, they reward you endlessly. I found clues in this book to and , both of which I've recently read, and I'm sure I'll be reminded of this book again when I read my next Nabokov.
June 12, 2022
Second reading. This is the first novel Nabokov wrote in English, his previous novels were in Russian (later translated to English). In lieu of a study TRLOSK was written in the lavatory of a one-room Paris flat in the late 1930s; Nabokov said he used the bidet for a desk. See .
Jorge Luis Borges writes in an essay that a far more interesting task than simply writing a novel, would be to write a book about another book. See . That鈥檚 essentially what Vladimir Nabokov does here, and all the books are necessarily fictional.
The narrator is the half-brother of a famous novelist鈥攂orn Russian who writes in English鈥攚ho鈥檚 recently deceased. It is his loving younger half-brother鈥檚 wish to write a biography which undermines a previous volume of character assassination written by an enemy. That鈥檚 the form the book takes. In the end it is more about the younger half brother鈥檚 search for the details of his sibling鈥檚 sadly truncated life鈥� he dies I believe at 37鈥攖han it is about the sibling himself. Many of the fictional novelist鈥檚 works are discussed, passages quoted, and that鈥檚 the Borges connection.
If you鈥檝e read all of Nabokov鈥檚 novels, you will want to read this one too. But don鈥檛 start here. Start with or or or or .
Jorge Luis Borges writes in an essay that a far more interesting task than simply writing a novel, would be to write a book about another book. See . That鈥檚 essentially what Vladimir Nabokov does here, and all the books are necessarily fictional.
The narrator is the half-brother of a famous novelist鈥攂orn Russian who writes in English鈥攚ho鈥檚 recently deceased. It is his loving younger half-brother鈥檚 wish to write a biography which undermines a previous volume of character assassination written by an enemy. That鈥檚 the form the book takes. In the end it is more about the younger half brother鈥檚 search for the details of his sibling鈥檚 sadly truncated life鈥� he dies I believe at 37鈥攖han it is about the sibling himself. Many of the fictional novelist鈥檚 works are discussed, passages quoted, and that鈥檚 the Borges connection.
If you鈥檝e read all of Nabokov鈥檚 novels, you will want to read this one too. But don鈥檛 start here. Start with or or or or .
April 26, 2016
鈥淭here is only one real number: one. And love, apparently, is the best exponent of this singularity.鈥�
鈥� Vladimir Nabokov, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight
Nabokov's tenth novel and first published novel written in English, 'The Real Life of Sebastian Knight' for me seemed like a dry run at big, complex themes he would later use in (funky plot structure) and (meta-fixation on another 'artists' literary work) along with a complex, M枚bius-like narrative. Is this a story written by literary author Sebastian Knight about a real or imagined younger brother's search for himself? OR is it (as it first seems) a story about a younger brother writing a biography about a dead or imagined famous writer/brother, and following clues,etc about his half brother's life? Can it be both? How much of it is a funky memoir of Nabokov's own emotional state after leaving Russia?
To me Nabokov was writing on a chiral strip that appears to have two-sides, but might just have one. Clever? Absolutely, but just not in the same league as his great English novels (Pale Fire, Pnin, Lolita, Ada) or even his very, very good Russian novels (Despair, Glory, etc) . Still, for Nabokov's first novel written in a foreign (although no tongue for VN seems foreign), it dances and moves quite nicely.
I guess, besides the M枚bius visual I got after finishing 'The Real Life of SK', I should also admit that Nabokov made it impossible to avoid chess images. Chess is a common theme in many of his novels (the Defense; King, Queen, Knave, etc.), but some novels are just shaded with opaque chess shadows, while others (like this one) seem to have every piece and the board thrown in. This novel kinda reminded me of a ruleless game of chess I played with my older brother (who died suddenly four years ago) when I was young. The pieces didn't behave (at least my Black pieces didn't behave) and at one point I totally drove my brother absolutely nuts because after nearly clearing the board we somehow managed to be left with just his White King and my Black King. I insisted we play till the game was over, but we just circled the board. I wouldn't let the fake game end in a draw, but the set up was impossible so I just chased him around and around and around the board. That fake game felt a lot like 'the Real Life of Sebastian Knight', just not nearly as literary and didn't end with both frustrated kings jammed up my nose.
鈥� Vladimir Nabokov, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight
Nabokov's tenth novel and first published novel written in English, 'The Real Life of Sebastian Knight' for me seemed like a dry run at big, complex themes he would later use in (funky plot structure) and (meta-fixation on another 'artists' literary work) along with a complex, M枚bius-like narrative. Is this a story written by literary author Sebastian Knight about a real or imagined younger brother's search for himself? OR is it (as it first seems) a story about a younger brother writing a biography about a dead or imagined famous writer/brother, and following clues,etc about his half brother's life? Can it be both? How much of it is a funky memoir of Nabokov's own emotional state after leaving Russia?
To me Nabokov was writing on a chiral strip that appears to have two-sides, but might just have one. Clever? Absolutely, but just not in the same league as his great English novels (Pale Fire, Pnin, Lolita, Ada) or even his very, very good Russian novels (Despair, Glory, etc) . Still, for Nabokov's first novel written in a foreign (although no tongue for VN seems foreign), it dances and moves quite nicely.
I guess, besides the M枚bius visual I got after finishing 'The Real Life of SK', I should also admit that Nabokov made it impossible to avoid chess images. Chess is a common theme in many of his novels (the Defense; King, Queen, Knave, etc.), but some novels are just shaded with opaque chess shadows, while others (like this one) seem to have every piece and the board thrown in. This novel kinda reminded me of a ruleless game of chess I played with my older brother (who died suddenly four years ago) when I was young. The pieces didn't behave (at least my Black pieces didn't behave) and at one point I totally drove my brother absolutely nuts because after nearly clearing the board we somehow managed to be left with just his White King and my Black King. I insisted we play till the game was over, but we just circled the board. I wouldn't let the fake game end in a draw, but the set up was impossible so I just chased him around and around and around the board. That fake game felt a lot like 'the Real Life of Sebastian Knight', just not nearly as literary and didn't end with both frustrated kings jammed up my nose.
May 9, 2016
How does a real life of a person relate to his overtly known biography?
鈥淪ebastian's image does not appear as part of my boyhood, thus subject to endless selection and development, nor does it appear as a succession of familiar visions, but it comes to me in a few bright patches, as if he were not a constant member of our family, but some erratic visitor passing across a lighted room and then for a long interval fading into the night. I explain this not so much by the fact that my own childish interests precluded any conscious relation with one who was not young enough to be my companion and not old enough to be my guide, but by Sebastian's constant aloofness, which, although I loved him dearly, never allowed my affection either recognition or food. I could perhaps describe the way he walked, or laughed or sneezed, but all this would be no more than sundry bits of cinema-film cut away by scissors and having nothing in common with the essential drama.鈥�
The Real Life of Sebastian Knight is an investigation of the writer鈥檚 past, an attempt to get nearer to his genuine self鈥� How close may an investigator come to the reality of the other person?
鈥淚 collected one of the most precious pages of Sebastian's life. A more systematic mind than mine would have placed them in the beginning of this book, but my quest had developed its own magic and logic and though I sometimes cannot help believing that it had gradually grown into a dream, that quest, using the pattern of reality for the weaving of its own fancies, I am forced to recognize that I was being led right, and that in striving to render Sebastian's life I must now follow the same rhythmical interlacements.鈥�
The one鈥檚 ego can only be known to oneself. The ways the others see us, describe us and remember us are always the reflections distorted by their own consciousness.
鈥淪ebastian's image does not appear as part of my boyhood, thus subject to endless selection and development, nor does it appear as a succession of familiar visions, but it comes to me in a few bright patches, as if he were not a constant member of our family, but some erratic visitor passing across a lighted room and then for a long interval fading into the night. I explain this not so much by the fact that my own childish interests precluded any conscious relation with one who was not young enough to be my companion and not old enough to be my guide, but by Sebastian's constant aloofness, which, although I loved him dearly, never allowed my affection either recognition or food. I could perhaps describe the way he walked, or laughed or sneezed, but all this would be no more than sundry bits of cinema-film cut away by scissors and having nothing in common with the essential drama.鈥�
The Real Life of Sebastian Knight is an investigation of the writer鈥檚 past, an attempt to get nearer to his genuine self鈥� How close may an investigator come to the reality of the other person?
鈥淚 collected one of the most precious pages of Sebastian's life. A more systematic mind than mine would have placed them in the beginning of this book, but my quest had developed its own magic and logic and though I sometimes cannot help believing that it had gradually grown into a dream, that quest, using the pattern of reality for the weaving of its own fancies, I am forced to recognize that I was being led right, and that in striving to render Sebastian's life I must now follow the same rhythmical interlacements.鈥�
The one鈥檚 ego can only be known to oneself. The ways the others see us, describe us and remember us are always the reflections distorted by their own consciousness.
September 6, 2020
When I finished reading 鈥淭he Real Life of Sebastian Knight鈥� I felt that I had been checkmated by Nabokov. In response to my puzzlement, I immediately opened the book at the beginning again and began to read it for a second time. I wanted to trace the strategy that this Chess-player-of-an-author had mapped out and the moves he had deployed so as to corner me the way he had done.
I have read little of Nabokov and have been wanting to take him up for a while, but my recent read of , awoke my curiosity anew and I felt an urgent read to read his work.
I know I am not being particularly perceptive by noticing the references in this novel to chess--from the names such as that of Sebastian Knight himself, and of Claire Bishop and her husband, (she married another Bishop), to those of other characters--like the one who is identified as Black and who holds a chess piece in his hands when he welcomes the Narrator. The most mischievous chess reference, though, is the inclusion of the Hospital of St Demier in France .
I will not be making a very original contribution either by saying that this novel is a fine-spun parody of the literary genres of Biographies and Detective stories. I imagine most other reviewers have already elaborated on this. But for my own sake I would like to comment on some of these features. As a Prelude I will remind the reader of this text that the book presents a Russian 茅migr茅, vaguely identified as V (Vlad?)., who writes an account on how he prepared to write a biography of his half- brother, Sebastian Knight, who had become, prior to his early death (aged 35) a successful writer. We read the account as if it were the biography itself.
I admit that in my first reading I was at first taken by the Narrator but gradually I began to feel some cracks in the story. There certainly was a reasonable chronology, although it is not presented in succession; the events jump about as if on a two-dimensional board. That鈥檚 why in my second reading I plotted the lifeline of the various events, paying attention on whether there was any twist. I did not detect any, but I did wonder at how the Narrator reconstructed Knight鈥檚 life given that since they separated in their youth (1919) they had only met about four times. The Narrator (Vlad?) expounds on his sources on each occasion, which however does not dissolve our scepticism on the reliability of the whole story. May be suspecting our hesitation, the Narrator states that he 鈥渉as an inner knowledge of Knight鈥檚 most intimate thoughts鈥� 鈥� which almost made me laugh when I read it. That something was at stake on the way this narrative was constructed was blatant when the Narrator (and here I could hear Nabokov鈥檚 voice 鈥� as a reader I am surely also allowed to that 鈥榠nner knowledge鈥�) after a string of indications of what crosses Knight鈥檚 mind in a moment of meditative solitude, sort of gives up and suggests that 鈥減erhaps, we shall be near the truth in supposing that while Sebastian sat on that fence, his mind was a turmoil of words and fancies, incomplete fancies and insufficient words鈥︹€�
The Narrator, when not able to interview direct witnesses, takes recourse to the books that Knight has published, extracting information from them, assuming that they are autobiographical. This raises the issue, not just on the veracity of biographies but on the limits of fiction, and we could imagine (again, my 鈥榠nner feeling鈥�) that Nabokov posits himself critical of this. And yet, her Claire Bishop--who types away and edits Knight鈥檚 books as well as manage all his literary engagements and negotiations鈥攊nevitably points at V茅ra Nabokov, who did exactly like the fictional Bishop.
And almost as a final twist we are told that Knight, for his final book was preparing a fake biography, for which he collected clippings from newspapers and even advertised for photographs of anonymous people. Could the Narrator (Vlad?) be doing something of the sort? About ten years after the publication of this novel Vladimir Nabokov gathered paper clippings that would help him in producing his most famous work.
Commenting further on the issues of Biographies/Fiction/Narrator/Authorship would lead me too much into the mined territory of SPOILERS. I will leave just say that, now that we all have to wear ours masks, I highly enjoyed this masked account.
There were other features that enriched further this reading, all of them testimonies to Nabokov鈥檚 literary and linguistic muscles. There are alliterations; jokes with dates and names; literary tricks such as end-of-chapter cliff hangers or the application of a literary style at the same time it is being censored (an example is the cinematic approach of creating a series of loose, unconnected scenes, but that simulate continuity by the way they are juxtaposed); some Russianness in the writing (such as the tendency to convert any noun into an adjective 鈥� 鈥楢proned pedlar鈥�). I also detected again his preference for the colour 鈥榲iolet鈥� (mentioned ten times), that I had already noticed in his .
For my coveted future exploration of Nabokov鈥檚 work, I had thought I would start with his first novel in English, but now have decided that my next will be .
April 10, 2022
CRITIQUE:
The Continuum of the Rabbit Hole
Over the course of his writing career, Vladimir Nabokov would often return down the rabbit hole of his imagination to find styles, ideas, thoughts and expressions that he had used in past fiction or stored there for use in future fiction.
In his previous novel, "The Gift", a character encourages the narrator to write a "biographie romanc茅e" (a biographical novel or fictitious biography) about a famous nineteenth century Russian writer.
Notwithstanding Nabokov's apparent scorn for the art form, "The Real Life" is just such a novel. It purports to be a biography of the narrator's half-brother, Sebastian (a novelist), but could, in fact, be a fiction about the narrator, or even Nabokov, himself (the narrator is known only as "V", "V. Sirin" being a nom de plume Nabokov used early in his career).
The Shaping of a Certain Lie
Despite his own diligent research (some of which required a private detective, in order to verify and "animate the past"), V warns us against unreliable narrators:
The Embedding of Nina Lecerf
Madame Nina Lecerf, a femme fatale who might have been Sebastian's last secret lover (albeit in a desperately unhappy relationship), and who proves adept at concealment, at least of her own identity and past, claims:
In response to V's pointed and persistent questioning, she declares:
At times, Madame Lecerf seems to be the type of woman who would end up in bed in one of Graham Greene's entertainments. Indeed, V admits that he, too, considered the possibility of a tryst (even if Sebastian mightn't have).
The Narcissism of the Reader/ Biographer/ Critic
As "Pale Fire" would subsequently do with respect to Charles Kinbote, "The Real Life" aims to correct the biographer/ critic, Mr Goodman's, erroneous factuality and misguided interpretation of Sebastian's life and literary works:
What is missing from Goodman's study is any fidelity to the text itself...All is self-indulgence of the reader/ biographer/ critic. Not to mention that it needs more cowbell.
The Ignition of a Controversy
You could say much the same thing about selfie-obsessed reviews that discuss "The Real Life" in terms of mirrors that ostensibly sit beneath the surface of the page (as far as I can recall, the word "mirror" only appears twice or three times in the novel, once as a metaphor [or simile] for narcissism - "they convey the impression that they are mirrored Narcissus-like in clear water").
In much the same way as Goodman errs, these (dearest of good) readers seem to believe that a mirror is a magic skeleton key that opens the lock of the door to every one of Nabokov's novels. They don't recognise that mirrors appear haphazardly in his fiction, and, when they do, they have different connotations. Nabokov's novels differ from each other as much as they might resemble each other.
The "mirror" in the poem "Pale Fire" (where it is more appropriate to use the word) is actually a windowpane, not a mirror, even if it's reflective of the azure sky (more than the butterfly).
Not afraid to ignite a controversy (even amongst his own readers), throughout "The Real Life", Nabokov is more concerned with the narcissism of readers or critics, who look into a book, only to find an image of themselves or of their own making (even if they're not content with the veracity of the image, believing, as they do, that they're more attractive than their image).
V writes of some women "who see everyday things merely as familiar mirrors of their own femininity". Presumably, men fall victim to the same folly.
It's a wonder that such readers, like their slapdash and misleading reviews, aren't "slain by the false azure of the windowpane" and turned into a "smudge of ashen fluff", the fate of the butterfly in the "Pale Fire" poem.
Hopeless Gropings Among the Author's Drawers
Nabokov would write elsewhere that readers themselves are [flawed] mirror images of the author:
These mirror images are subjective, misleading phantom images of the author. Readers make up or invent their own version or image of the novel they think the author was trying to write. Likewise, reviews are readers' attempts to see themselves in somebody else's work of the imagination. They are, in fact, poorly disguised acts of narcissism.
V describes them as "the leaden sluggishness of dream endeavour" and "hopeless gropings among dissolving things".
The novel's meaning and beauty dissolve under the onslaught of the self-obsessed reader.
The Darlings of Oblivion
Equally narcissistic are those nicholites, pontificators, copyists and acolytes whose practice is little more than to pronounce or declare postmodernist, lost and buried fiction "masterpieces" (the implicit promise of the pontificator being that they would know a masterpiece if they saw one), even if these fictions have done little to advance literature beyond the experiments of the modernists.
As Sebastian says in one of his books, "Little things like that are the darlings of oblivion..."
The Cult of Narcissism
This novel is an author's attack on the cult and culture of narcissism, whatever the variety - academic, intellectual, anti-intellectual, or social media.
Posting reviews or "doing your own research" online is theoretically capable of being something more than expressing or vindicating your own preconceived opinion on a public platform. Surely, it can reveal something more substantive than a hunger for likes.
You have to wonder whether these mediocre minds of the interweb actually think (in the sense V uses in relation to Goodman) or read anything other than what they have posted themselves.
Nabokov asserts and defends the primacy of (at least his own) fiction against such readerly and critical mediocrity.
In his eyes, just as we must beware of unreliable narrators, we must be wary of unreliable readers/ reviewers/ critics.
The Alliterative Life
Meanwhile, stylistically, Nabokov anticipates the famous alliteration on the first page of "Lolita".
In his memoir, "Lost Property" (the title of which is evocative enough), Sebastian Knight writes:
Nabokov would later substitute l's and t's for l's and v's, even if there was a t (for tongue) in "velvet".
Working on Our Knight Moves
I haven't searched out all of the chess references in this novel (apart from the obvious connotation of Sebastian's surname, as well as the name of his first love interest, Clare Bishop), but it's worth mentioning that "the signature under each [of Sebastian Knight's] poem(s) was a little black chess-knight drawn in ink."
A character who V calls "Black" holds a black knight chess piece in his hand during their conversation.
Playing Numbers
Nabokov often likes to play with numbers.
Sebastian writes in "Lost Property" that "The only real number is one, the rest are mere repetition."
Later, he elaborates on the significance of the number one:
In "The Real Life", Nabokov postulates that, in love, we two are (both) one, and we are all one. We all constitute a singularity, narcissists excepted.
SOUNDTRACK:
The Continuum of the Rabbit Hole
Over the course of his writing career, Vladimir Nabokov would often return down the rabbit hole of his imagination to find styles, ideas, thoughts and expressions that he had used in past fiction or stored there for use in future fiction.
In his previous novel, "The Gift", a character encourages the narrator to write a "biographie romanc茅e" (a biographical novel or fictitious biography) about a famous nineteenth century Russian writer.
Notwithstanding Nabokov's apparent scorn for the art form, "The Real Life" is just such a novel. It purports to be a biography of the narrator's half-brother, Sebastian (a novelist), but could, in fact, be a fiction about the narrator, or even Nabokov, himself (the narrator is known only as "V", "V. Sirin" being a nom de plume Nabokov used early in his career).
The Shaping of a Certain Lie
Despite his own diligent research (some of which required a private detective, in order to verify and "animate the past"), V warns us against unreliable narrators:
"Don't be too certain of learning the past from the lips of the present. Beware of the most honest broker. Remember that what you are told is really threefold: shaped by the teller, reshaped by the listener, concealed from both by the dead man of the tale.
"Who is speaking of Sebastian Knight?...And where is the third party? Rotting peacefully in the cemetery of St Damier. Laughing alive in five volumes [of his own writing]."
The Embedding of Nina Lecerf
Madame Nina Lecerf, a femme fatale who might have been Sebastian's last secret lover (albeit in a desperately unhappy relationship), and who proves adept at concealment, at least of her own identity and past, claims:
"I think writing a book about people you know is much more honest than making a hash of them and then presenting it as your own invention."
In response to V's pointed and persistent questioning, she declares:
"I am telling you what I know, and not what you'd like to know."
"I'll be disappointed in your book if it all ends in bed."
At times, Madame Lecerf seems to be the type of woman who would end up in bed in one of Graham Greene's entertainments. Indeed, V admits that he, too, considered the possibility of a tryst (even if Sebastian mightn't have).
The Narcissism of the Reader/ Biographer/ Critic
As "Pale Fire" would subsequently do with respect to Charles Kinbote, "The Real Life" aims to correct the biographer/ critic, Mr Goodman's, erroneous factuality and misguided interpretation of Sebastian's life and literary works:
"Mr Goodman's method is as simple as his philosophy. His sole object is to show 'poor Knight' as the product and victim of what he calls 'our time' -- 'Post-war unrest', 'Post-war Generation' are to Mr Goodman magic words opening every door. There is, however, a certain kind of 'open sesame', which seems less a charm than a skeleton-key...
"But he is quite wrong in thinking that he found something once the lock had been forced. Not that I wish to suggest that Mr Goodman thinks. He could not if he tried. His book concerns itself only with such ideas as have been shown (commercially) to attract mediocre minds...
"His slapdash and very misleading book...paints in a few ill-chosen sentences a ridiculously wrong picture of Sebastian Knight's childhood..."
"No wonder this solemn biographer is out of tune with his hero at every point in the story."
"[Though]...Mr. Goodman's book 'The Tragedy of Sebastian Knight' has enjoyed a very good Press...[he] knew all along that his book was rubbish."
What is missing from Goodman's study is any fidelity to the text itself...All is self-indulgence of the reader/ biographer/ critic. Not to mention that it needs more cowbell.
The Ignition of a Controversy
You could say much the same thing about selfie-obsessed reviews that discuss "The Real Life" in terms of mirrors that ostensibly sit beneath the surface of the page (as far as I can recall, the word "mirror" only appears twice or three times in the novel, once as a metaphor [or simile] for narcissism - "they convey the impression that they are mirrored Narcissus-like in clear water").
In much the same way as Goodman errs, these (dearest of good) readers seem to believe that a mirror is a magic skeleton key that opens the lock of the door to every one of Nabokov's novels. They don't recognise that mirrors appear haphazardly in his fiction, and, when they do, they have different connotations. Nabokov's novels differ from each other as much as they might resemble each other.
The "mirror" in the poem "Pale Fire" (where it is more appropriate to use the word) is actually a windowpane, not a mirror, even if it's reflective of the azure sky (more than the butterfly).
Not afraid to ignite a controversy (even amongst his own readers), throughout "The Real Life", Nabokov is more concerned with the narcissism of readers or critics, who look into a book, only to find an image of themselves or of their own making (even if they're not content with the veracity of the image, believing, as they do, that they're more attractive than their image).
V writes of some women "who see everyday things merely as familiar mirrors of their own femininity". Presumably, men fall victim to the same folly.
It's a wonder that such readers, like their slapdash and misleading reviews, aren't "slain by the false azure of the windowpane" and turned into a "smudge of ashen fluff", the fate of the butterfly in the "Pale Fire" poem.
Hopeless Gropings Among the Author's Drawers
Nabokov would write elsewhere that readers themselves are [flawed] mirror images of the author:
"For I do not exist: there exist but the thousands of mirrors that reflect me. With every acquaintance I make, the population of phantoms resembling me increases. Somewhere they live, somewhere they multiply. I alone do not exist."
These mirror images are subjective, misleading phantom images of the author. Readers make up or invent their own version or image of the novel they think the author was trying to write. Likewise, reviews are readers' attempts to see themselves in somebody else's work of the imagination. They are, in fact, poorly disguised acts of narcissism.
V describes them as "the leaden sluggishness of dream endeavour" and "hopeless gropings among dissolving things".
The novel's meaning and beauty dissolve under the onslaught of the self-obsessed reader.
The Darlings of Oblivion
Equally narcissistic are those nicholites, pontificators, copyists and acolytes whose practice is little more than to pronounce or declare postmodernist, lost and buried fiction "masterpieces" (the implicit promise of the pontificator being that they would know a masterpiece if they saw one), even if these fictions have done little to advance literature beyond the experiments of the modernists.
As Sebastian says in one of his books, "Little things like that are the darlings of oblivion..."
The Cult of Narcissism
This novel is an author's attack on the cult and culture of narcissism, whatever the variety - academic, intellectual, anti-intellectual, or social media.
Posting reviews or "doing your own research" online is theoretically capable of being something more than expressing or vindicating your own preconceived opinion on a public platform. Surely, it can reveal something more substantive than a hunger for likes.
You have to wonder whether these mediocre minds of the interweb actually think (in the sense V uses in relation to Goodman) or read anything other than what they have posted themselves.
Nabokov asserts and defends the primacy of (at least his own) fiction against such readerly and critical mediocrity.
In his eyes, just as we must beware of unreliable narrators, we must be wary of unreliable readers/ reviewers/ critics.
The Alliterative Life
Meanwhile, stylistically, Nabokov anticipates the famous alliteration on the first page of "Lolita".
In his memoir, "Lost Property" (the title of which is evocative enough), Sebastian Knight writes:
"Life with you was lovely - and when I say lovely, I mean doves and lilies, and velvet, and that soft pink 'v' in the middle and the way your tongue curved up to the long, lingering 'l'.
"Our life together was alliterative, and when I think of all the little things which will die, now that we cannot share them, I feel as if we were dead too. And perhaps we are.
"You see, the greater our happiness was, the hazier its edges grew, as if its outlines were melting, and now it has dissolved altogether. I have not stopped loving you; but something is dead in me, and I cannot see you in the mist...
"This is all poetry. I am lying to you. Lily-livered. There can be nothing more cowardly than a poet beating about the bush. I think you have guessed how things stand: the damned formula of 'another woman'. I am desperately unhappy with her - here is one thing which is true."
Nabokov would later substitute l's and t's for l's and v's, even if there was a t (for tongue) in "velvet".
Working on Our Knight Moves
I haven't searched out all of the chess references in this novel (apart from the obvious connotation of Sebastian's surname, as well as the name of his first love interest, Clare Bishop), but it's worth mentioning that "the signature under each [of Sebastian Knight's] poem(s) was a little black chess-knight drawn in ink."
A character who V calls "Black" holds a black knight chess piece in his hand during their conversation.
Playing Numbers
Nabokov often likes to play with numbers.
Sebastian writes in "Lost Property" that "The only real number is one, the rest are mere repetition."
Later, he elaborates on the significance of the number one:
"There is only one real number: One. And love, apparently, is the best exponent of this singularity."
In "The Real Life", Nabokov postulates that, in love, we two are (both) one, and we are all one. We all constitute a singularity, narcissists excepted.
SOUNDTRACK:
July 25, 2019
Segundo as boas normas do civismo, a vida em sociedade exige o respeito pelo outro, em toda a sua ess锚ncia. De facto, o Homem, como animal de rela莽玫es, vai deambulando estoicamente entre o seu onfalocentrismo ego铆sta e um altru铆smo patol贸gico, ambos gerados no ventre das suas d煤vidas existenciais.
V. dedica a sua vida a desvendar os mist茅rios que o apartaram do seu grande modelo 鈥� Sebastian Knight, um escritor dotado mas desprezado, que, acima de tudo, 茅 seu irm茫o. Nessa sua demanda, V. refaz os passos do outro, numa tentativa de escrever um livro dentro de um livro, lembrando as intermin谩veis matrioskas, para homenagear algu茅m, por ele, t茫o prezado. Parece um enredo simples mas Nabokov j谩 nos acostomou a narradores n茫o confi谩veis鈥�
Numa narrativa pejada de quebras da terceira folha (um v贸rtex fren茅tico para o leitor?), a metalinguagem usada n茫o 茅 f谩cil nem coloquial, expondo ideias dispersas de forma n茫o linear, notoriamente inspiradas em factos biogr谩ficos do pr贸prio autor. Ainda assim, n茫o apela a nenhuma emo莽茫o em particular 鈥� antes apresenta um estudo de uma vertente humana, t茫o disseminada nos dias de hoje.
Assiste-se, pois, 脿 nega莽茫o de uma alma vazia que, almejando um preenchimento pleno, atravessa um processo de transmuta莽茫o. Nesse encontro de duas metades, mat茅ria real e antimat茅ria ficcionada, surge a energia vital e um elefante que, n茫o sendo branco, continua a n茫o ter uma fun莽茫o clara.
"Aprendi que a alma 茅 apenas uma forma de ser, n茫o um estado constante, e que qualquer alma pode ser nossa se a captarmos e seguirmos as suas ondula莽玫es. O al茅m talvez seja a plena capacidade de viver conscientemente em qualquer alma que se escolha, em qualquer conjunto de almas, todas elas inconscientes do fardo permut谩vel que carregam." (p谩g. 187)
V. dedica a sua vida a desvendar os mist茅rios que o apartaram do seu grande modelo 鈥� Sebastian Knight, um escritor dotado mas desprezado, que, acima de tudo, 茅 seu irm茫o. Nessa sua demanda, V. refaz os passos do outro, numa tentativa de escrever um livro dentro de um livro, lembrando as intermin谩veis matrioskas, para homenagear algu茅m, por ele, t茫o prezado. Parece um enredo simples mas Nabokov j谩 nos acostomou a narradores n茫o confi谩veis鈥�
Numa narrativa pejada de quebras da terceira folha (um v贸rtex fren茅tico para o leitor?), a metalinguagem usada n茫o 茅 f谩cil nem coloquial, expondo ideias dispersas de forma n茫o linear, notoriamente inspiradas em factos biogr谩ficos do pr贸prio autor. Ainda assim, n茫o apela a nenhuma emo莽茫o em particular 鈥� antes apresenta um estudo de uma vertente humana, t茫o disseminada nos dias de hoje.
Assiste-se, pois, 脿 nega莽茫o de uma alma vazia que, almejando um preenchimento pleno, atravessa um processo de transmuta莽茫o. Nesse encontro de duas metades, mat茅ria real e antimat茅ria ficcionada, surge a energia vital e um elefante que, n茫o sendo branco, continua a n茫o ter uma fun莽茫o clara.
"Aprendi que a alma 茅 apenas uma forma de ser, n茫o um estado constante, e que qualquer alma pode ser nossa se a captarmos e seguirmos as suas ondula莽玫es. O al茅m talvez seja a plena capacidade de viver conscientemente em qualquer alma que se escolha, em qualquer conjunto de almas, todas elas inconscientes do fardo permut谩vel que carregam." (p谩g. 187)
July 22, 2019
The Real Life of Sebastian Knight, Vladimir Nabokov
The Real Life of Sebastian Knight is the first English language postmodern novel by Vladimir Nabokov, written from late 1938 to early 1939 in Paris and first published in 1941. The narrator, V., is absorbed in the composition of his first literary work, a biography of his half-brother, the Russian-born English novelist, Sebastian Knight (1899鈥�1936). In the course of his quest he tracks down Sebastian's contemporaries at Cambridge and interviews other friends and acquaintances. In the course of his work V. also surveys Sebastian's books and attempts to refute the views of the "misleading" The Tragedy of Sebastian Knight, a biography by Knight's former secretary Mr. Goodman, who maintains that Knight was too aloof and cut off from real life. V. concludes that, after a long-running romantic relationship with Clare Bishop, Sebastian's final years were embittered by a love affair with another woman, a Russian whom he presumably met at a hotel in Blauberg, where Sebastian spent time recuperating from a heart ailments in June 1929. V. leaves for Blauberg, where, with the help of a private detective, he acquires a list of the names of four women who were staying at the hotel at the same time as Sebastian and tracks down each to interview them. After dismissing the possibility of Helene Grinstein in Berlin, his search leads him to Paris and the list narrows to two candidates: ...
鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 乇賵夭 亘蹖爻鬲 賵 丿賵賲 賲丕賴 噩賵賱丕蹖 爻丕賱 2009 賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 夭賳丿诏蹖 賵丕賯毓蹖 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 賳丕蹖鬲貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 賵賱丕丿蹖賲蹖乇 賳丕亘丕讴賵賮貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 丕賲蹖丿 賳蹖讴 賮乇噩丕賲貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳蹖賱丕丿貙 1380貙 丿乇 222 氐貨 卮丕亘讴: 丕蹖讴爻 - 964690016貨 趩丕倬 丿賵賲 1385貨 賲賵囟賵毓: 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 乇賵爻蹖 鬲亘丕乇 丕賲乇蹖讴丕蹖蹖 - 爻丿賴 20 賲
毓賳賵丕賳: 夭賳丿诏蹖 賵丕賯毓蹖 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 賳丕蹖鬲貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 賵賱丕丿蹖賲蹖乇 賳丕亘丕讴賵賮貨 亘丕 賲賯丿賲賴: 讴賳乇丕丿 亘乇诏乇貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 亘賴賲賳 禺爻乇賵蹖貙 賵蹖乇丕爻鬲丕乇: 丨賲蹖丿賴 乇爻鬲賲蹖貨鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳爻賱 賳賵丕賳丿蹖卮貨 1387貙 丿乇 307 氐貨 卮丕亘讴: 9789644122880貨
丕夭 丌睾丕夭 亘賵蹖 賲乇诏 丕爻鬲 讴賴 卮賲蹖丿賴 賲蹖卮賵丿貙 賵 賵丕跇賴 賴丕 亘蹖賳 賲乇诏 賵 夭賳丿诏蹖 賲賵噩 賲蹖禺賵乇賳丿. 讴鬲丕亘 亘賴 賯賱賲 亘乇丕丿乇 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄貙 亘乇丕蹖 讴卮賮 乇丕夭 夭賳丿诏蹖 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄 丕爻鬲 讴賴 賳诏丕卮鬲賴 賲蹖卮賵丿貙 賵 亘乇丕丿乇(乇丕賵蹖) 丿乇 丕賵乇丕賯蹖 讴賴 賲蹖賳賵蹖爻賳丿貙 禺賵丿 亘丕 夭賳丿诏蹖 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄貙 亘蹖卮鬲乇 賵 亘賴鬲乇 丌卮賳丕 賲蹖卮賵丿. 倬蹖卮鬲乇 亘丕 丕賵 丕夭 賵乇丕蹖 讴鬲丕亘賴丕蹖卮貙 丌卮賳丕 亘賵丿賴貙 賵 倬爻 丕夭 賲乇诏卮貙 卮賳丕禺鬲 禺賵丿 芦爻亘丕鬲蹖賳禄 賳蹖夭貙 丕賴賲蹖鬲 賵蹖跇賴 倬蹖丿丕 賲蹖讴賳丿. 賲鬲賳賴丕蹖蹖 丕夭 賳诏丕乇卮賴丕蹖 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄 賳蹖夭 丿乇 丕蹖賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 丌賵乇丿賴 賲蹖卮賵丿貙 讴賴 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 卮诏乇丿賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴貙 亘乇丕蹖 乇賵賳丿 卮讴賱诏蹖乇蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳卮 丕爻鬲. 亘賴 丿乇爻鬲蹖 丕蹖賳 賳诏丕乇賴 丕夭 賲鬲賵賳貙 賵 丕賮讴丕乇 诏賵賳丕诏賵賳蹖 卮讴賱 诏乇賮鬲賴貙 讴賴 乇丕賵蹖 丌賳賴丕 乇丕貙 賵丕乇丿 賲鬲賳 禺賵丿 賲蹖讴賳丿貙 鬲丕 趩賳丿 夭亘丕賳蹖 乇丕貙 讴賴 丿乇 倬爻 丌賳: 趩賳丿 乇賵丕蹖鬲蹖貙 賵 趩賳丿 夭丕賵蹖賴 蹖 丿蹖丿 丕爻鬲貙 亘乇丌賵乇丿賴 讴賳丿. 賲鬲賵賳蹖 讴賴 賴乇 讴丿丕賲 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賵 爻亘讴蹖 賵蹖跇賴 丿丕乇賳丿貙 賵 亘賴 賵爻蹖賱賴 丌賳賴丕貙 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖蹖 丿乇 丕蹖賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賲乇讴夭蹖貙 賵丕诏賵蹖賴 賲蹖卮賵賳丿. 诏賵蹖蹖 禺賵丕賳卮诏乇 丿賴 賴丕 讴鬲丕亘 丿蹖诏乇 乇丕 賳蹖夭貙 丿乇 丕蹖賳 蹖讴 讴鬲丕亘 禺賵丕賳丿賴 丕爻鬲. 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 讴鬲丕亘賴丕貙 丿蹖丿诏丕賴賴丕蹖蹖 囟丿 乇賵丕蹖鬲 丕蹖賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 乇丕貙 丿乇亘丕乇賴 蹖 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄 丕乇丕卅賴 賲蹖丿賴丿貙 賵 禺賵丕賳卮诏乇 丕夭 夭賵丕蹖丕蹖 诏賵賳丕诏賵賳 亘丕 卮禺氐蹖鬲 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄 丌卮賳丕 賲蹖卮賵丿. 丌噩乇 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 亘乇 丕爻丕爻 賲乇诏 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄貙 賵 讴卮賮 夭賳丿诏蹖 丕賵 倬爻 丕夭 賲乇诏卮貙 亘诏匕丕卮鬲賴 賲蹖卮賵丿貙 賵 夭賳丿诏蹖 讴鬲丕亘 亘丕 賲乇诏 丌睾丕夭 賲蹖诏乇丿丿貙 賵 乇丕夭 丌賳 賳蹖夭貙 丿乇 賴賲丕賳 賲乇诏 亘賳賴賮鬲賴 丕爻鬲. 丕賳鬲賴丕蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 亘蹖卮鬲乇 禺賵丕賳丿賳蹖 爻鬲 賵 賮丕卮 賳賲蹖讴賳賲 鬲丕 禺賵丿 亘禺賵丕賳蹖丿. 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
The Real Life of Sebastian Knight is the first English language postmodern novel by Vladimir Nabokov, written from late 1938 to early 1939 in Paris and first published in 1941. The narrator, V., is absorbed in the composition of his first literary work, a biography of his half-brother, the Russian-born English novelist, Sebastian Knight (1899鈥�1936). In the course of his quest he tracks down Sebastian's contemporaries at Cambridge and interviews other friends and acquaintances. In the course of his work V. also surveys Sebastian's books and attempts to refute the views of the "misleading" The Tragedy of Sebastian Knight, a biography by Knight's former secretary Mr. Goodman, who maintains that Knight was too aloof and cut off from real life. V. concludes that, after a long-running romantic relationship with Clare Bishop, Sebastian's final years were embittered by a love affair with another woman, a Russian whom he presumably met at a hotel in Blauberg, where Sebastian spent time recuperating from a heart ailments in June 1929. V. leaves for Blauberg, where, with the help of a private detective, he acquires a list of the names of four women who were staying at the hotel at the same time as Sebastian and tracks down each to interview them. After dismissing the possibility of Helene Grinstein in Berlin, his search leads him to Paris and the list narrows to two candidates: ...
鬲丕乇蹖禺 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 禺賵丕賳卮: 乇賵夭 亘蹖爻鬲 賵 丿賵賲 賲丕賴 噩賵賱丕蹖 爻丕賱 2009 賲蹖賱丕丿蹖
毓賳賵丕賳: 夭賳丿诏蹖 賵丕賯毓蹖 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 賳丕蹖鬲貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 賵賱丕丿蹖賲蹖乇 賳丕亘丕讴賵賮貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 丕賲蹖丿 賳蹖讴 賮乇噩丕賲貨 鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳蹖賱丕丿貙 1380貙 丿乇 222 氐貨 卮丕亘讴: 丕蹖讴爻 - 964690016貨 趩丕倬 丿賵賲 1385貨 賲賵囟賵毓: 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 乇賵爻蹖 鬲亘丕乇 丕賲乇蹖讴丕蹖蹖 - 爻丿賴 20 賲
毓賳賵丕賳: 夭賳丿诏蹖 賵丕賯毓蹖 爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳 賳丕蹖鬲貨 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴: 賵賱丕丿蹖賲蹖乇 賳丕亘丕讴賵賮貨 亘丕 賲賯丿賲賴: 讴賳乇丕丿 亘乇诏乇貨 賲鬲乇噩賲: 亘賴賲賳 禺爻乇賵蹖貙 賵蹖乇丕爻鬲丕乇: 丨賲蹖丿賴 乇爻鬲賲蹖貨鬲賴乇丕賳貙 賳爻賱 賳賵丕賳丿蹖卮貨 1387貙 丿乇 307 氐貨 卮丕亘讴: 9789644122880貨
丕夭 丌睾丕夭 亘賵蹖 賲乇诏 丕爻鬲 讴賴 卮賲蹖丿賴 賲蹖卮賵丿貙 賵 賵丕跇賴 賴丕 亘蹖賳 賲乇诏 賵 夭賳丿诏蹖 賲賵噩 賲蹖禺賵乇賳丿. 讴鬲丕亘 亘賴 賯賱賲 亘乇丕丿乇 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄貙 亘乇丕蹖 讴卮賮 乇丕夭 夭賳丿诏蹖 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄 丕爻鬲 讴賴 賳诏丕卮鬲賴 賲蹖卮賵丿貙 賵 亘乇丕丿乇(乇丕賵蹖) 丿乇 丕賵乇丕賯蹖 讴賴 賲蹖賳賵蹖爻賳丿貙 禺賵丿 亘丕 夭賳丿诏蹖 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄貙 亘蹖卮鬲乇 賵 亘賴鬲乇 丌卮賳丕 賲蹖卮賵丿. 倬蹖卮鬲乇 亘丕 丕賵 丕夭 賵乇丕蹖 讴鬲丕亘賴丕蹖卮貙 丌卮賳丕 亘賵丿賴貙 賵 倬爻 丕夭 賲乇诏卮貙 卮賳丕禺鬲 禺賵丿 芦爻亘丕鬲蹖賳禄 賳蹖夭貙 丕賴賲蹖鬲 賵蹖跇賴 倬蹖丿丕 賲蹖讴賳丿. 賲鬲賳賴丕蹖蹖 丕夭 賳诏丕乇卮賴丕蹖 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄 賳蹖夭 丿乇 丕蹖賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 丌賵乇丿賴 賲蹖卮賵丿貙 讴賴 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 卮诏乇丿賴丕蹖 賳賵蹖爻賳丿賴貙 亘乇丕蹖 乇賵賳丿 卮讴賱诏蹖乇蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳卮 丕爻鬲. 亘賴 丿乇爻鬲蹖 丕蹖賳 賳诏丕乇賴 丕夭 賲鬲賵賳貙 賵 丕賮讴丕乇 诏賵賳丕诏賵賳蹖 卮讴賱 诏乇賮鬲賴貙 讴賴 乇丕賵蹖 丌賳賴丕 乇丕貙 賵丕乇丿 賲鬲賳 禺賵丿 賲蹖讴賳丿貙 鬲丕 趩賳丿 夭亘丕賳蹖 乇丕貙 讴賴 丿乇 倬爻 丌賳: 趩賳丿 乇賵丕蹖鬲蹖貙 賵 趩賳丿 夭丕賵蹖賴 蹖 丿蹖丿 丕爻鬲貙 亘乇丌賵乇丿賴 讴賳丿. 賲鬲賵賳蹖 讴賴 賴乇 讴丿丕賲 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賵 爻亘讴蹖 賵蹖跇賴 丿丕乇賳丿貙 賵 亘賴 賵爻蹖賱賴 丌賳賴丕貙 丿丕爻鬲丕賳賴丕蹖蹖 丿乇 丕蹖賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 賲乇讴夭蹖貙 賵丕诏賵蹖賴 賲蹖卮賵賳丿. 诏賵蹖蹖 禺賵丕賳卮诏乇 丿賴 賴丕 讴鬲丕亘 丿蹖诏乇 乇丕 賳蹖夭貙 丿乇 丕蹖賳 蹖讴 讴鬲丕亘 禺賵丕賳丿賴 丕爻鬲. 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 讴鬲丕亘賴丕貙 丿蹖丿诏丕賴賴丕蹖蹖 囟丿 乇賵丕蹖鬲 丕蹖賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 乇丕貙 丿乇亘丕乇賴 蹖 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄 丕乇丕卅賴 賲蹖丿賴丿貙 賵 禺賵丕賳卮诏乇 丕夭 夭賵丕蹖丕蹖 诏賵賳丕诏賵賳 亘丕 卮禺氐蹖鬲 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄 丌卮賳丕 賲蹖卮賵丿. 丌噩乇 賳禺爻鬲蹖賳 丿丕爻鬲丕賳貙 亘乇 丕爻丕爻 賲乇诏 芦爻亘丕爻鬲蹖賳禄貙 賵 讴卮賮 夭賳丿诏蹖 丕賵 倬爻 丕夭 賲乇诏卮貙 亘诏匕丕卮鬲賴 賲蹖卮賵丿貙 賵 夭賳丿诏蹖 讴鬲丕亘 亘丕 賲乇诏 丌睾丕夭 賲蹖诏乇丿丿貙 賵 乇丕夭 丌賳 賳蹖夭貙 丿乇 賴賲丕賳 賲乇诏 亘賳賴賮鬲賴 丕爻鬲. 丕賳鬲賴丕蹖 丿丕爻鬲丕賳 亘蹖卮鬲乇 禺賵丕賳丿賳蹖 爻鬲 賵 賮丕卮 賳賲蹖讴賳賲 鬲丕 禺賵丿 亘禺賵丕賳蹖丿. 丕. 卮乇亘蹖丕賳蹖
December 13, 2018
The Real Life of Sebastian Knight is a tragic comedy. Or comic tragedy? It鈥檚 also a satire that mocks the glorification of writers.
The premise of The Real Life of Sebastian Knight is that of a biography (kind of) of an author鈥擲ebastian Knight鈥攂eing written by his half brother. The story is told by the half brother as he attempts to investigate his brother鈥檚 life. The authors half-brother is a hapless idiot. Rather dumb and with terrible luck. Not only that, but he seems to idolize his brother who not only never gave a shit about him and who seemed to be overall a self-absorbed asshole. The story being told by the writer鈥檚 dull-witted, clumsy brother is mostly about his stumbling efforts to piece together what his half brother was really like. We get very little understanding of Sebastian, mostly a view of how cringingly pitiable the narrator is instead.
Very close to the beginning of the story, the narrator enraged me by burning Sebastian鈥檚 letters. Sebastian asked him to burn them鈥nd he thought about reading them instead but did burn them. Up in smoke goes the narrator's first chance to have any insight into the secret inner life of his brother. In fact, many of the letters were love letters and more than half the novel is about the narrator trying to figure out who Sebastian鈥檚 lover was. WHICH HE WOULD HAVE KNOWN IMMEDIATELY IF HE HAD READ THE LETTERS. The entire stumbling journey and mystery was utterly unnecessary out of some embarrassingly foolish desire to follow his dead brother鈥檚 wishes. Like...I'm going to investigate this mystery and begin by burning all my clues. The entire story is filled with questionable decisions by the narrator, which lead to very little understanding of anything on his part. It鈥檚 both hilarious to watch his dumb mistakes and deeply sad to see him pursuing the empty meaningless shadow of his scornful arrogant brother. Is Nabokov saying, ignore the author just read the damn books?
The narrator spends quite a bit of time too trying to tease out meaning from Sebastian鈥檚 books. In other words, literary criticism of imaginary texts. The books sound rather inventive and at the same time ridiculous too. Like an author who tried too hard out of insecurity. It鈥檚 never quite clear if we should believe that Sebastian was actually a worthwhile, skilled author or merely achieved some literary buzz for a few books that will not age well and will disappear once a little time has passed. This narrators 鈥渟tory鈥� of Sebastian鈥檚 life won鈥檛 do much to cement his place his history, in fact, if anything, they will make him more of a laughingstock merely through the reflections of (in?) his half-brother. As a biography, it鈥檚 more of an anti-biography. The narrator specifically notes that he tried to 鈥渓eave himself out of it鈥� and only indirectly touch on his own life, but the story is almost entirely about his own sad quest, and he鈥檚 too oblivious to see it.
The Real Life of Sebastian Knight crucifies the idea of hero worship. And idolizing writers (or artists). The 鈥淩eal Life鈥� of Sebastian Knight leaves little to admire about the fellow.
Despite the obvious surface humor and satire of The Real Life of Sebastian Knight, there are many intriguing layers to it, such as a theme that addresses the impossibility of understand a 鈥渞eal self.鈥� It鈥檚 an onion with layers that can't be peeled. Or, better to say, they can be peeled and peeled and peeled and you end up with nothing left. This narrator isn't even good at peeling. Dare I say...he was rather unapeeling? This book was a metaphysical detective story that ends up with nothing to show for it. The idea of a self is pure fiction. And representing that through the life of a fiction writer is an excellent metaphor. I found the narrator incredibly frustrating at times, in his obtuse choices and embarrassing hero-worship, but at the same time, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight was a rewarding and intriguing narrative.
The premise of The Real Life of Sebastian Knight is that of a biography (kind of) of an author鈥擲ebastian Knight鈥攂eing written by his half brother. The story is told by the half brother as he attempts to investigate his brother鈥檚 life. The authors half-brother is a hapless idiot. Rather dumb and with terrible luck. Not only that, but he seems to idolize his brother who not only never gave a shit about him and who seemed to be overall a self-absorbed asshole. The story being told by the writer鈥檚 dull-witted, clumsy brother is mostly about his stumbling efforts to piece together what his half brother was really like. We get very little understanding of Sebastian, mostly a view of how cringingly pitiable the narrator is instead.
Very close to the beginning of the story, the narrator enraged me by burning Sebastian鈥檚 letters. Sebastian asked him to burn them鈥nd he thought about reading them instead but did burn them. Up in smoke goes the narrator's first chance to have any insight into the secret inner life of his brother. In fact, many of the letters were love letters and more than half the novel is about the narrator trying to figure out who Sebastian鈥檚 lover was. WHICH HE WOULD HAVE KNOWN IMMEDIATELY IF HE HAD READ THE LETTERS. The entire stumbling journey and mystery was utterly unnecessary out of some embarrassingly foolish desire to follow his dead brother鈥檚 wishes. Like...I'm going to investigate this mystery and begin by burning all my clues. The entire story is filled with questionable decisions by the narrator, which lead to very little understanding of anything on his part. It鈥檚 both hilarious to watch his dumb mistakes and deeply sad to see him pursuing the empty meaningless shadow of his scornful arrogant brother. Is Nabokov saying, ignore the author just read the damn books?
The narrator spends quite a bit of time too trying to tease out meaning from Sebastian鈥檚 books. In other words, literary criticism of imaginary texts. The books sound rather inventive and at the same time ridiculous too. Like an author who tried too hard out of insecurity. It鈥檚 never quite clear if we should believe that Sebastian was actually a worthwhile, skilled author or merely achieved some literary buzz for a few books that will not age well and will disappear once a little time has passed. This narrators 鈥渟tory鈥� of Sebastian鈥檚 life won鈥檛 do much to cement his place his history, in fact, if anything, they will make him more of a laughingstock merely through the reflections of (in?) his half-brother. As a biography, it鈥檚 more of an anti-biography. The narrator specifically notes that he tried to 鈥渓eave himself out of it鈥� and only indirectly touch on his own life, but the story is almost entirely about his own sad quest, and he鈥檚 too oblivious to see it.
The Real Life of Sebastian Knight crucifies the idea of hero worship. And idolizing writers (or artists). The 鈥淩eal Life鈥� of Sebastian Knight leaves little to admire about the fellow.
Despite the obvious surface humor and satire of The Real Life of Sebastian Knight, there are many intriguing layers to it, such as a theme that addresses the impossibility of understand a 鈥渞eal self.鈥� It鈥檚 an onion with layers that can't be peeled. Or, better to say, they can be peeled and peeled and peeled and you end up with nothing left. This narrator isn't even good at peeling. Dare I say...he was rather unapeeling? This book was a metaphysical detective story that ends up with nothing to show for it. The idea of a self is pure fiction. And representing that through the life of a fiction writer is an excellent metaphor. I found the narrator incredibly frustrating at times, in his obtuse choices and embarrassing hero-worship, but at the same time, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight was a rewarding and intriguing narrative.
September 7, 2023
Reading for the second time.
The keynote of Sebastian鈥檚 life was solitude.
In this Nabokov鈥檚 first novel written in the English language, our unnamed narrator is following his deceased half-brother, the novelist Sebastian Knight鈥檚 footsteps and interviewing people who knew him, in order to write his biography.
But did anyone know Sebastian? Who was the real Sebastian Knight?
Will he always remain an enigma?
Don鈥檛 be too certain of learning the past from the lips of the present鈥� Remember that what you are told is really threefold: shaped by the teller, reshaped by the listener, concealed from both by the dead man of the tale.
The keynote of Sebastian鈥檚 life was solitude.
In this Nabokov鈥檚 first novel written in the English language, our unnamed narrator is following his deceased half-brother, the novelist Sebastian Knight鈥檚 footsteps and interviewing people who knew him, in order to write his biography.
But did anyone know Sebastian? Who was the real Sebastian Knight?
Will he always remain an enigma?
Don鈥檛 be too certain of learning the past from the lips of the present鈥� Remember that what you are told is really threefold: shaped by the teller, reshaped by the listener, concealed from both by the dead man of the tale.
September 2, 2014
Nabokov's cold but never stylistically unsound first novel in English should make most said-language speaking writers go ahead and give up now before they embarrass themselves. The brainy, Russian bastard just leapfrogs from the lilly pad of his native language to the horizontally moving log of my native language with the ease of a joystick joggle of Frogger. Jealous gripes and grouses aside, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight is a formally inventive metaphysical detective story about a prissy, aristocratic narrator who goes sniffing around his recently deceased brother's past to gather material for a biography on his life. The dead brother went by the name Sebastian Knight and was an author of some esteemed repute with a respectable oeuvre of work to his name. The two brothers (half-brothers if we are being honest) shared a distant, oddly formal relationship while both were still alive, but this didn't weaken the narrator's sincere admiration for his brother's works. As the unnamed narrator - who Nabokov later revealed in a letter to an editor that his name was V - as V traces his brother's background, chatting up old lovers and colleagues, we also get his personal insight into his brother's novels, with V drawing comfort from shared remembrances of childhood that Sebastian later cannibalized for his fiction. As always, Nabokov is the great D & D dungeon master of literature, and metafictional hijinks abound throughout the novel's text. Remember when I said "cold" in the first sentence? Well, the emotional fury of Lolita is absent from this book. Sure, there are some sad, sympathetic moments but mostly this is a novel to be admired for all its well-crafted cogs and sprockets that go whizzz, whirrrl, and ba-doing, ba-doing!
October 15, 2022
Here鈥檚 a story about two half-brothers. They are Russian 茅migr茅s--one was nineteen and the other thirteen when they fled Russia to Finland in 1918 during the Russian Revolution. The eponymous Sebastian Knight, the older brother by six years, has recently died. The year is now 1936. The younger brother sets out to write his biography--a good biography. Sebastian had become a renowned novelist and for this reason a biography had already been written, but the younger brother deemed it to be both misleading and inadequate. The younger brother is referred to only as V. In writing about his brother, he sees no need to give information about himself. His full name and other personal details are therefore unnecessary, or so he claims at the start!
By the novel鈥檚 end one questions who the novel is really about and how close one can get to the truth in a biography. The person about whom one writes often does not reveal what lies closest to their heart. Secondly, authors are influenced by their own experiences, making it difficult to view others without bias. Thirdly, the information gathered from disparate sources can rarely be taken at face value.
This is metafiction. We have in our hands the book the younger brother has written. The Tragedy of Sebastian Knight, the earlier biography written by Mr. Goodman which V vehemently criticizes, and Sebastian鈥檚 own books, of which there are five, are all analyzed. None of these, of course, actually exist, except this one here by Vladimir Nabokov.
How the book is told matches perfectly the novel that it is--the central character鈥檚 task is to gather, assess and then judge the conflicting information received from others. The Information is not presented in an orderly fashion鈥攊t would be unrealistic to do so. The sources of information vary. Each of the characters know different bits. V must analyze, evaluate and make sense of all that he has learned collected.
can be read on different levels. It can be read as a mystery, as a detective novel--V seeks to uncover who Sebastian鈥檚 lovers have been. Or, one can draw parallels between the brothers in the novel and Nabokov and his brother, Sergey. Similarities abound. Finally, one can read the book simply for Nabokov鈥檚 marvelous writing. He plays with words, juxtaposing them in unusual ways.
This is the first novel Nabokov wrote in English. The preceding nine were written in Russian and under the alias V. Sirin. Do note the V in the pseudonym!
Luke Daniels narrates the audiobook very well. He dramatizes but doesn鈥檛 carry this too far. He does a marvelous job of imitating a woman with a stuffed nose. This did make me smile! The speed is perfect, and every word can be heard. Four stars for the narration.
****
* 5 stars
* 5 stars
* 5 stars
* 4 stars
* 4 stars
* 4 stars
* 4 stars
* 3 stars
* 3 stars
* 2 stars
* 1 star
* 1 star
* 1 star
By the novel鈥檚 end one questions who the novel is really about and how close one can get to the truth in a biography. The person about whom one writes often does not reveal what lies closest to their heart. Secondly, authors are influenced by their own experiences, making it difficult to view others without bias. Thirdly, the information gathered from disparate sources can rarely be taken at face value.
This is metafiction. We have in our hands the book the younger brother has written. The Tragedy of Sebastian Knight, the earlier biography written by Mr. Goodman which V vehemently criticizes, and Sebastian鈥檚 own books, of which there are five, are all analyzed. None of these, of course, actually exist, except this one here by Vladimir Nabokov.
How the book is told matches perfectly the novel that it is--the central character鈥檚 task is to gather, assess and then judge the conflicting information received from others. The Information is not presented in an orderly fashion鈥攊t would be unrealistic to do so. The sources of information vary. Each of the characters know different bits. V must analyze, evaluate and make sense of all that he has learned collected.
can be read on different levels. It can be read as a mystery, as a detective novel--V seeks to uncover who Sebastian鈥檚 lovers have been. Or, one can draw parallels between the brothers in the novel and Nabokov and his brother, Sergey. Similarities abound. Finally, one can read the book simply for Nabokov鈥檚 marvelous writing. He plays with words, juxtaposing them in unusual ways.
This is the first novel Nabokov wrote in English. The preceding nine were written in Russian and under the alias V. Sirin. Do note the V in the pseudonym!
Luke Daniels narrates the audiobook very well. He dramatizes but doesn鈥檛 carry this too far. He does a marvelous job of imitating a woman with a stuffed nose. This did make me smile! The speed is perfect, and every word can be heard. Four stars for the narration.
****
* 5 stars
* 5 stars
* 5 stars
* 4 stars
* 4 stars
* 4 stars
* 4 stars
* 3 stars
* 3 stars
* 2 stars
* 1 star
* 1 star
* 1 star
October 4, 2018
This was Nabokov's first novel written in English, and it's startling to learn that he only switched from Russian because he decided to enter it into a British literary competition. Famously, he wrote most of it perched on a bidet in his Paris apartment so as not to disturb his young son, a detail it is impossible to learn without trying to pin down a certain gushing, purgative quality to the prose鈥�
It is, in fact, just as typically (if embryonically) Nabokovian as his later work, and in theme as well as language. Sebastian Knight is full of pre-echoes of the kind of things that will eventually dominate Nabokov's bigger, more famous books: identity, memory, literary pastiche, linguistic playfulness, formal games, and a direct, witty, elaborate narrative voice. It takes the form of a biography of a deceased writer (Sebastian Knight) written by his anonymous half-brother, identified only as 鈥榁.鈥� (recall that all of Nabokov's previous books had been written under the pen name of 鈥榁. Sirin鈥�) 鈥� but it is quickly obvious that in fact we'll be hearing less about Knight himself than about V.'s attempts to research and write the book we are reading. The end result comes over as something like a cross between Tristram Shandy and Steve Aylett's Lint (though not as funny as either).
There are copious quotations from and comments on Knight's oeuvre (he was, we are told, the author of such bestsellers as Lost Property and The Doubtful Asphodel), and these allow Nabokov to outline a theory of literature from, as it were, a safe distance. Many of the effects Knight is credited with 鈥� words and phrases that almost mystically convey an impression of something, though you can't understand how 鈥� are effects that you can recognise in Nabokov's own writing, if not here then certainly later. Meanwhile a very funny subplot consists in our narrator's keen desire to rubbish the author of a previously-published biography of Knight which, V. insists, has got things all wrong. These sections allow for some sly pastiching of academic prose, as well as giving voice to Nabokov's distaste for the whole process of examining writers through their personal lives or their supposed relation to 鈥榳orld events鈥�.
The bulk of the plot resides in those sections where the narrator is chasing down leads in the real world, trying to locate women that his brother had been involved with, and these sections at times play with the conventions of detective fiction. Sebastian Knight and the narrator, like Nabokov himself, grew up in Russia and had to flee after the Revolution, and there are some beautiful early descriptive passages that deal with St Petersberg:
But ultimately Nabokov is never very interested in plot, and nor am I when I read him 鈥� what I'm interested in are the aesthetic effects. There are plenty here, but they still feel like they're looking forward to what's to come. Partisans of this novel say, a little defensively, that it can be enjoyed for its own sake and not just as an early curiosity, but I couldn't help feeling that the most interesting aspects of Sebastian Knight are things seen to more triumphant effect in Pale Fire, Lolita or Ada. But Nabokov being Nabokov, there is still lots to enjoy and to be suspicious of 鈥� the stress on mistaken identity and authorial secrecy make you wonder if, perhaps, Sebastian Knight and 鈥榁.鈥� are really one and the same, engaged in a perpetual game of mirrors that ultimately points back to the puppeteer behind both of them, hunched gleefully on his bidet in 1930s Paris鈥�
It is, in fact, just as typically (if embryonically) Nabokovian as his later work, and in theme as well as language. Sebastian Knight is full of pre-echoes of the kind of things that will eventually dominate Nabokov's bigger, more famous books: identity, memory, literary pastiche, linguistic playfulness, formal games, and a direct, witty, elaborate narrative voice. It takes the form of a biography of a deceased writer (Sebastian Knight) written by his anonymous half-brother, identified only as 鈥榁.鈥� (recall that all of Nabokov's previous books had been written under the pen name of 鈥榁. Sirin鈥�) 鈥� but it is quickly obvious that in fact we'll be hearing less about Knight himself than about V.'s attempts to research and write the book we are reading. The end result comes over as something like a cross between Tristram Shandy and Steve Aylett's Lint (though not as funny as either).
There are copious quotations from and comments on Knight's oeuvre (he was, we are told, the author of such bestsellers as Lost Property and The Doubtful Asphodel), and these allow Nabokov to outline a theory of literature from, as it were, a safe distance. Many of the effects Knight is credited with 鈥� words and phrases that almost mystically convey an impression of something, though you can't understand how 鈥� are effects that you can recognise in Nabokov's own writing, if not here then certainly later. Meanwhile a very funny subplot consists in our narrator's keen desire to rubbish the author of a previously-published biography of Knight which, V. insists, has got things all wrong. These sections allow for some sly pastiching of academic prose, as well as giving voice to Nabokov's distaste for the whole process of examining writers through their personal lives or their supposed relation to 鈥榳orld events鈥�.
The bulk of the plot resides in those sections where the narrator is chasing down leads in the real world, trying to locate women that his brother had been involved with, and these sections at times play with the conventions of detective fiction. Sebastian Knight and the narrator, like Nabokov himself, grew up in Russia and had to flee after the Revolution, and there are some beautiful early descriptive passages that deal with St Petersberg:
the pure luxury of a cloudless sky designed not to warm the flesh, but solely to please the eye; the sheen of sledge-cuts on the hard-beaten snow of spacious streets with a tawny tinge about the middle tracks due to a rich mixture of horse-dung; the birghtly coloured bunch of toy-balloons hawked by an aproned pedlar; the soft curve of a cupola, its gold dimmed by the bloom of powdery frost; the birch trees in the public gardens, every tiniest twig outlined in white; the rasp and tinkle of winter traffic鈥�
But ultimately Nabokov is never very interested in plot, and nor am I when I read him 鈥� what I'm interested in are the aesthetic effects. There are plenty here, but they still feel like they're looking forward to what's to come. Partisans of this novel say, a little defensively, that it can be enjoyed for its own sake and not just as an early curiosity, but I couldn't help feeling that the most interesting aspects of Sebastian Knight are things seen to more triumphant effect in Pale Fire, Lolita or Ada. But Nabokov being Nabokov, there is still lots to enjoy and to be suspicious of 鈥� the stress on mistaken identity and authorial secrecy make you wonder if, perhaps, Sebastian Knight and 鈥榁.鈥� are really one and the same, engaged in a perpetual game of mirrors that ultimately points back to the puppeteer behind both of them, hunched gleefully on his bidet in 1930s Paris鈥�
February 6, 2018
An unreliable narrator, a Russian 茅migr茅 in Paris, frequent allusions to chess鈥� We are definitely in Nabokov territory. All that鈥檚 missing are the butterflies.
His first English novel is about a man seeking a posthumous connection with his estranged half-brother. The novel is an exploration of identity, of the relationship between life and art, and also a tragic reminder of the transience of life. This appears to be a very personal novel: in the accounts of a Russian author learning to write in English, adapting to a new culture, and in the concern over artistic legacy and interpretation, Nabokov appears at times to be speaking through both subject (S. Knight) and narrator (unnamed). Nabokov鈥檚 prose is not bad for someone writing his first novel in his third language (kidding, it鈥檚 outstanding - there is not even a hint of awkwardness or unfamiliarity).
For me, this was something of a slow burn. I felt a little disconnected at first, a little unsure of where Nabokov was leading me, but I was soon drawn into the depths of the mystery, and was moved by its poignant conclusion.
His first English novel is about a man seeking a posthumous connection with his estranged half-brother. The novel is an exploration of identity, of the relationship between life and art, and also a tragic reminder of the transience of life. This appears to be a very personal novel: in the accounts of a Russian author learning to write in English, adapting to a new culture, and in the concern over artistic legacy and interpretation, Nabokov appears at times to be speaking through both subject (S. Knight) and narrator (unnamed). Nabokov鈥檚 prose is not bad for someone writing his first novel in his third language (kidding, it鈥檚 outstanding - there is not even a hint of awkwardness or unfamiliarity).
For me, this was something of a slow burn. I felt a little disconnected at first, a little unsure of where Nabokov was leading me, but I was soon drawn into the depths of the mystery, and was moved by its poignant conclusion.
October 29, 2018
鈥淟a nota fondamentale della vita di Sebastian era la solitudine, e quanto pi霉 il destino cercava benevolmente di farlo sentire a suo agio contraffacendo in modo ammirevole le cose che egli credeva di desiderare, tanto pi霉 avvertiva la propria incapacit脿 di inserirsi nel quadro, - in qualsiasi quadro. Allorch茅 infine comprese appieno questa realt脿 e cominci貌 a coltivare con accanimento il proprio disagio, come se si fosse trattato di un talento raro o di una passione, solo allora Sebastian trasse soddisfazione dalla crescita rigogliosa e mostruosa di quel disagio, cessando di preoccuparsi della sua scarsa facolt脿 di adattamento, - ma questo accadde molto tempo dopo鈥�.
Questo capolavoro della mistificazione 猫 un viaggio letterario alla scoperta di finzioni biografiche e di verit脿 dell'anima conquistate attraverso e dentro la letteratura. Un capolavoro di parole e immagini che indossa la maschera dell'incantesimo, ci ricorda Giorgio Manganelli nel saggio che racchiude questo enigmatico romanzo, costruito come una partita a scacchi o un rebus, che ha come fondamenta la complessit脿 e l'inutilit脿. Due magie scandalose e sublimi come farfalle, due donne meravigliose e infedeli, che per aver salva la vita devono vivere di inganni e di menzogne. Il narratore insegue la vita di Sebastian, viaggiatore che ha scritto diversi libri, elegante doppio nel quale si specchiano le personalit脿, i sogni e le fantasie del lettore: giocatore perduto nella trama del racconto, innamorato nostalgico di un'amante inesistente, fratello inconsolabile di un autore fantasma, Nabokov progetta nell'infinito oblio una mossa definitiva e conclusiva.
鈥淎 Sebastian Knight era sempre piaciuto fare giochi di prestigio con i suoi temi, portandoli a scontrarsi o mescolandoli astutamente, ottenendo che fossero loro a esprimere quel significato nascosto che poteva essere espresso solo in un susseguirsi di onde, come la musica di una boa cinese pu貌 farsi sentire solo per il fluttuare dell'acqua. Nell'Asfodelo incerto il suo metodo ha raggiunto la perfezione. Non sono le parti che contano, ma il loro modo di combinarsi鈥�.
Questo capolavoro della mistificazione 猫 un viaggio letterario alla scoperta di finzioni biografiche e di verit脿 dell'anima conquistate attraverso e dentro la letteratura. Un capolavoro di parole e immagini che indossa la maschera dell'incantesimo, ci ricorda Giorgio Manganelli nel saggio che racchiude questo enigmatico romanzo, costruito come una partita a scacchi o un rebus, che ha come fondamenta la complessit脿 e l'inutilit脿. Due magie scandalose e sublimi come farfalle, due donne meravigliose e infedeli, che per aver salva la vita devono vivere di inganni e di menzogne. Il narratore insegue la vita di Sebastian, viaggiatore che ha scritto diversi libri, elegante doppio nel quale si specchiano le personalit脿, i sogni e le fantasie del lettore: giocatore perduto nella trama del racconto, innamorato nostalgico di un'amante inesistente, fratello inconsolabile di un autore fantasma, Nabokov progetta nell'infinito oblio una mossa definitiva e conclusiva.
鈥淎 Sebastian Knight era sempre piaciuto fare giochi di prestigio con i suoi temi, portandoli a scontrarsi o mescolandoli astutamente, ottenendo che fossero loro a esprimere quel significato nascosto che poteva essere espresso solo in un susseguirsi di onde, come la musica di una boa cinese pu貌 farsi sentire solo per il fluttuare dell'acqua. Nell'Asfodelo incerto il suo metodo ha raggiunto la perfezione. Non sono le parti che contano, ma il loro modo di combinarsi鈥�.
July 31, 2015
A mysterious and at times almost sinister story with a somewhat curious ending (whose real meaning depends entirely on the reader) that leaves you with a lot to think about, written in a brilliant way by an astonishingly brilliant writer who knows that what you don't write is equally important as what you do write, and with that he plays with you in a deceptively simple narrative that is really anything but. If you don't pay attention, you'll gain little from Volodya.
March 28, 2023
This is about the relationship of two brothers, V. and Sebastian Knight, Russian by birth. Sebastian Knight, an author, is portrayed dead since the beginning of the book and this book is a biography and about the process of writing this said biography of Knight by his half-brother V.
The keynote of Sebastian's life was solitude and the kindlier fate tried to make him feel at home by counterfeiting admirably the things he thought he wanted, the more he was aware of his inability to fit into the picture - into any kind of picture.
When at last he thoroughly understood this and grimly started to cultivate self-consciousness as if it had been some rare talent or passion, only then did Sebastian derive satisfaction from its rich and monstrous growth, ceasing to worry about his awkward uncongeniality - but that was much later.
V. idolizes and admires his elder brother, but due to circumstances and Sebastian鈥檚 aloof nature they become more-or-less estranged. But V. always had a longing for reconciliation and conveying his admiration to his brother. This book is about V. trying to unfurl Sebastian鈥檚 life and getting to know his life.
I have learnt one secret too, and namely: that the soul is but a manner of being - not a constant state - that any soul may be yours, if you find and follow its undulations. The hereafter may be the full ability of consciously living in any chosen soul, in any number of souls, all of them unconscious of their interchangeable burden. Thus - I am Sebastian Knight. I feel as if I were impersonating him on a lighted stage, with the people he knew coming and going - the dim figures of the few friends he had, the scholar, and the poet; and the painter - smoothly and noiselessly paying their graceful tribute;
So, Knight becomes an enchanting protagonist we do not meet but follow his brother鈥檚 journey in exploring his life, his toils, tribulations, and relationships.
I really liked the writing in this book. We also get excerpts from Sebastian Knight's books, and discover his literary prowess, which also gives an insight into his character.
The keynote of Sebastian's life was solitude and the kindlier fate tried to make him feel at home by counterfeiting admirably the things he thought he wanted, the more he was aware of his inability to fit into the picture - into any kind of picture.
When at last he thoroughly understood this and grimly started to cultivate self-consciousness as if it had been some rare talent or passion, only then did Sebastian derive satisfaction from its rich and monstrous growth, ceasing to worry about his awkward uncongeniality - but that was much later.
V. idolizes and admires his elder brother, but due to circumstances and Sebastian鈥檚 aloof nature they become more-or-less estranged. But V. always had a longing for reconciliation and conveying his admiration to his brother. This book is about V. trying to unfurl Sebastian鈥檚 life and getting to know his life.
I have learnt one secret too, and namely: that the soul is but a manner of being - not a constant state - that any soul may be yours, if you find and follow its undulations. The hereafter may be the full ability of consciously living in any chosen soul, in any number of souls, all of them unconscious of their interchangeable burden. Thus - I am Sebastian Knight. I feel as if I were impersonating him on a lighted stage, with the people he knew coming and going - the dim figures of the few friends he had, the scholar, and the poet; and the painter - smoothly and noiselessly paying their graceful tribute;
So, Knight becomes an enchanting protagonist we do not meet but follow his brother鈥檚 journey in exploring his life, his toils, tribulations, and relationships.
I really liked the writing in this book. We also get excerpts from Sebastian Knight's books, and discover his literary prowess, which also gives an insight into his character.
February 16, 2021
Our life together was alliterative, and when I think of all the little things which will die, now that we cannot share them, I feel as if we were dead too. And perhaps we are. You see, the greater our happiness was, the hazier its edges grew, as if its outlines were melting, and now it has dissolved altogether.
This was magical book to devour as a winter storm descended on our quiet lives. There was a desperation to my reading. It wasn't mortal in natural, but perhaps moral. I wanted to be Nabokov's close-reader. I wanted to untie his puzzles without any ill affect on the mosaic. Did I prove excessively human in my efforts?
You bet.
I kept reading the fate of Nabokov's actual brother Sergei into the narrative, though his brother was still alive when N penned this novel, Nabokov's first in English. As the title indicates, it is a novel as investigation, an inchoate biography. The protagonist V is investigating the life of his half brother Sebastian, a (Nabokovian) novelist, who died apparently suddenly. V travels across Europe gathering slips and moments. What is left is something both Romantic and Modernist. It offers the trappings of farce but through a kaleidoscope. Despite the calculation it never appears contrived. It is a testament between siblings. I read much later in the night than I normally do during the week. The cottony snow outside appeared to compel: to summon and lead. I obeyed.
This was magical book to devour as a winter storm descended on our quiet lives. There was a desperation to my reading. It wasn't mortal in natural, but perhaps moral. I wanted to be Nabokov's close-reader. I wanted to untie his puzzles without any ill affect on the mosaic. Did I prove excessively human in my efforts?
You bet.
I kept reading the fate of Nabokov's actual brother Sergei into the narrative, though his brother was still alive when N penned this novel, Nabokov's first in English. As the title indicates, it is a novel as investigation, an inchoate biography. The protagonist V is investigating the life of his half brother Sebastian, a (Nabokovian) novelist, who died apparently suddenly. V travels across Europe gathering slips and moments. What is left is something both Romantic and Modernist. It offers the trappings of farce but through a kaleidoscope. Despite the calculation it never appears contrived. It is a testament between siblings. I read much later in the night than I normally do during the week. The cottony snow outside appeared to compel: to summon and lead. I obeyed.
June 15, 2016
O meu primeiro contacto com Nabokov foi com a sua obra mais popular (e controversa): Lolita. Lembro-me que fiquei algo que transtornada e confusa ao ler Lolita, n茫o percebia se tinha gostado ou n茫o, precisei mesmo de algum tempo para p么r as ideias em ordem. A conclus茫o que retirei foi esta: se Nabokov consegue causar tal sentimento no leitor ent茫o ser谩 certamente um grande escritor, e isso deve-se principalmente 脿 sua escrita (muito delicada e bem estruturada). O passo seguinte foi procurar outra obra de Nabokov, dando prefer锚ncia a uma cuja tem谩tica fosse mais leve.
A Verdadeira Vida de Sebastian Knight veio confirmar que nem eu, nem a maioria dos outros leitores, est谩vamos enganados, Nabokov 茅 mesmo um grande escritor e a sua especialidade 茅 deixar os leitores indignados e felizes! Ainda que Lolita tenha sido publicado quase 15 anos ap贸s A Verdadeira Vida de Sebastian Knight, n茫o existe uma discrep芒ncia evidente entre as duas obras. Mant茅m-se o vocabul谩rio rico e acess铆vel, o n铆vel de fluidez da leitura e as maravilhosas longas descri莽玫es (que, estranhamente, n茫o s茫o nada ma莽adoras).
Nesta obra a tem谩tica n茫o 茅 controversa nem t茫o sens铆vel, tal como o nome sugere o autor conta-nos a vida de Sebastian, um escritor famoso cuja vida est谩 envolta em mist茅rio. A forma como Nabokov nos conta a hist贸ria de Sebastian 茅 por si s贸 fascinante. Logo na primeira p谩gina sabemos que Sebastian est谩 morto, e portanto n茫o pode ser ele a contar-nos a sua hist贸ria, essa tarefa cabe ao meio-irm茫o de Sebastian, cujo nome desconhecemos.
Fiquei com a sensa莽茫o de que esta obra 茅 quase auto-biogr谩fica e que Nabokov se "desdobra" entre as duas personagens mais relevantes: Sebastian e o seu meio-irm茫o. O facto de nem sempre conseguirmos distinguir o que 茅 real do que 茅 imagin谩rio, acaba por sustentar esta ideia.
"Aprendi que a alma 茅 apenas uma forma de ser, n茫o um estado constante, e que qualquer alma pode ser nossa se a captarmos e seguirmos as suas ondula莽玫es. O al茅m talvez seja a plena capacidade de viver conscientemente em qualquer alma que se escolha, em qualquer conjunto de almas, todas elas inconscientes do fardo permut谩vel que carregam."
A hist贸ria em si n茫o tem nada de extraordin谩rio. J谩 perto da morte, Sebastian delega ao seu meio-irm茫o a miss茫o de queimar todos os seus segredos e cuidar dos seus 煤ltimos pertences, e 茅 nessa altura que cresce a curiosidade em conhecer o passado de Sebastian. Ao longo da hist贸ria o autor vai revelando algumas caracter铆sticas da personalidade de Sebastian, mas apenas no final sentimos que o conhecemos realmente. Esta obra torna-se assim num exerc铆cio de mem贸ria e numa busca de um passado desconhecido.
N茫o esperava revela莽玫es surpreendentes nem um final "tchanah" mas acabou por acontecer, e 茅 mesmo disto que os leitores mais gostam. Vou continuar a procurar outras obras de Nabokov, fiquei com muita vontade de ler mais!
" Existe apenas um 煤nico n煤mero real: o n煤mero um. E o amor, aparentemente, 茅 o melhor expoente dessa singularidade."
Opini茫o no blog:
A Verdadeira Vida de Sebastian Knight veio confirmar que nem eu, nem a maioria dos outros leitores, est谩vamos enganados, Nabokov 茅 mesmo um grande escritor e a sua especialidade 茅 deixar os leitores indignados e felizes! Ainda que Lolita tenha sido publicado quase 15 anos ap贸s A Verdadeira Vida de Sebastian Knight, n茫o existe uma discrep芒ncia evidente entre as duas obras. Mant茅m-se o vocabul谩rio rico e acess铆vel, o n铆vel de fluidez da leitura e as maravilhosas longas descri莽玫es (que, estranhamente, n茫o s茫o nada ma莽adoras).
Nesta obra a tem谩tica n茫o 茅 controversa nem t茫o sens铆vel, tal como o nome sugere o autor conta-nos a vida de Sebastian, um escritor famoso cuja vida est谩 envolta em mist茅rio. A forma como Nabokov nos conta a hist贸ria de Sebastian 茅 por si s贸 fascinante. Logo na primeira p谩gina sabemos que Sebastian est谩 morto, e portanto n茫o pode ser ele a contar-nos a sua hist贸ria, essa tarefa cabe ao meio-irm茫o de Sebastian, cujo nome desconhecemos.
Fiquei com a sensa莽茫o de que esta obra 茅 quase auto-biogr谩fica e que Nabokov se "desdobra" entre as duas personagens mais relevantes: Sebastian e o seu meio-irm茫o. O facto de nem sempre conseguirmos distinguir o que 茅 real do que 茅 imagin谩rio, acaba por sustentar esta ideia.
"Aprendi que a alma 茅 apenas uma forma de ser, n茫o um estado constante, e que qualquer alma pode ser nossa se a captarmos e seguirmos as suas ondula莽玫es. O al茅m talvez seja a plena capacidade de viver conscientemente em qualquer alma que se escolha, em qualquer conjunto de almas, todas elas inconscientes do fardo permut谩vel que carregam."
A hist贸ria em si n茫o tem nada de extraordin谩rio. J谩 perto da morte, Sebastian delega ao seu meio-irm茫o a miss茫o de queimar todos os seus segredos e cuidar dos seus 煤ltimos pertences, e 茅 nessa altura que cresce a curiosidade em conhecer o passado de Sebastian. Ao longo da hist贸ria o autor vai revelando algumas caracter铆sticas da personalidade de Sebastian, mas apenas no final sentimos que o conhecemos realmente. Esta obra torna-se assim num exerc铆cio de mem贸ria e numa busca de um passado desconhecido.
N茫o esperava revela莽玫es surpreendentes nem um final "tchanah" mas acabou por acontecer, e 茅 mesmo disto que os leitores mais gostam. Vou continuar a procurar outras obras de Nabokov, fiquei com muita vontade de ler mais!
" Existe apenas um 煤nico n煤mero real: o n煤mero um. E o amor, aparentemente, 茅 o melhor expoente dessa singularidade."
Opini茫o no blog:
December 24, 2014
A few scattered reflections, both on the novel and Nabokov in general...
1. There are a number of ways one can take the novel's closing lines, which I of course won't give away for fear of being beheaded by the "no-spoilers" crowd. Suffice it to say that it's ambiguous, and that potential interpretations of it sit along a spectrum: it can be said to do everything from provide an imaginative and emotionally satisfying resolution to the narrator's arc to pulling one of those too-clever "bet you weren't expecting THAT" maneuvers, and I don't think I've digested the novel thoroughly enough yet to understand where along that spectrum it sits.
2. In some ways, you could compare Vladimir Nabokov, a.k.a. Vivian Darkbloom, a.k.a. Vladimir Sirin, to a supercomputer playing tic-tac-toe. Since reading a novel by the master of chain-yankery has inspired me to doing a little bit of chain-yankery myself, I'm not going to explain that.
3. Aside from Invitation to a Beheading and allegedly Bend Sinister, V.V.N. is the most prominent literary aesthete since Oscar Wilde. Since Invitation is my least favorite Nabokov novel by a wide margin so far, I therefore would prefer he remain this way.
4. I really want this to be Nabokov's first metafictional exercise, since it was his first English novel, and there would be a nice sense of "new language, new start" from that.
5. How is this man so fucking eloquent
6. There's this irritating tendency in Nabokov's otherwise-great novels to set up some moronic philistine character as a contrast to the genius of the well-spoken and usually upper-class protagonists. The treatment of Goodman is no exception, but I appreciate it just the same because a) it's funny and b) it's a nice shot at the sort of hangers-on creative types tend to attract, especially post-death.
7. I'm already itching to reread this, in search of more to support my theory that this is as much about the narrator as it is its subject, and that it in some ways functions as an ego trip for the narrator.
8. It's questionable how great Sebastian actually is, at least as a writer; the few passages we're offered of his work suggests that he's stilted and a little too clever for his own good. Much of Sebastian's greatness is given to us secondhand. Is this part of the point?
9.
10. I don't even need to tell you about this novel's autobiographical elements.
11. I think I like this more than Lolita and Pnin, and am now a lot more excited to dive into Nabokov than I had been beforehand.
1. There are a number of ways one can take the novel's closing lines, which I of course won't give away for fear of being beheaded by the "no-spoilers" crowd. Suffice it to say that it's ambiguous, and that potential interpretations of it sit along a spectrum: it can be said to do everything from provide an imaginative and emotionally satisfying resolution to the narrator's arc to pulling one of those too-clever "bet you weren't expecting THAT" maneuvers, and I don't think I've digested the novel thoroughly enough yet to understand where along that spectrum it sits.
2. In some ways, you could compare Vladimir Nabokov, a.k.a. Vivian Darkbloom, a.k.a. Vladimir Sirin, to a supercomputer playing tic-tac-toe. Since reading a novel by the master of chain-yankery has inspired me to doing a little bit of chain-yankery myself, I'm not going to explain that.
3. Aside from Invitation to a Beheading and allegedly Bend Sinister, V.V.N. is the most prominent literary aesthete since Oscar Wilde. Since Invitation is my least favorite Nabokov novel by a wide margin so far, I therefore would prefer he remain this way.
4. I really want this to be Nabokov's first metafictional exercise, since it was his first English novel, and there would be a nice sense of "new language, new start" from that.
5. How is this man so fucking eloquent
6. There's this irritating tendency in Nabokov's otherwise-great novels to set up some moronic philistine character as a contrast to the genius of the well-spoken and usually upper-class protagonists. The treatment of Goodman is no exception, but I appreciate it just the same because a) it's funny and b) it's a nice shot at the sort of hangers-on creative types tend to attract, especially post-death.
7. I'm already itching to reread this, in search of more to support my theory that this is as much about the narrator as it is its subject, and that it in some ways functions as an ego trip for the narrator.
8. It's questionable how great Sebastian actually is, at least as a writer; the few passages we're offered of his work suggests that he's stilted and a little too clever for his own good. Much of Sebastian's greatness is given to us secondhand. Is this part of the point?
9.
10. I don't even need to tell you about this novel's autobiographical elements.
11. I think I like this more than Lolita and Pnin, and am now a lot more excited to dive into Nabokov than I had been beforehand.
June 6, 2024
鈥溛斘滴� 蠀蟺维蟻蠂慰蠀谓 蟺慰位位维 蟺蟻维纬渭伪蟿伪 蟽蟿畏 味蠅萎 蟺慰蠀 谓伪 蟽蠀纬魏蟻委谓慰谓蟿伪喂 渭蔚 蟿畏谓 伪蟺蠈位伪蠀蟽畏 蟿畏蟼 蟽维蟿喂蟻伪蟼..鈥澨兾滴�. 67.
螤伪委味蔚喂 谓伪 蔚委谓伪喂 魏伪喂 蟿慰 魏伪位蠉蟿蔚蟻慰 伪蟺蠈 蟿伪 未喂魏维 蟿慰蠀 蟺慰蠀 苇蠂蠅 未喂伪尾维蟽蔚喂 (蟿伪 蠈蠂喂 蟺慰位位维), 蔚魏蟿蠈蟼 伪蟺蠈 蟿慰.. 伪蠀蟿蠈.听
螖蠉慰 蟺蟻维纬渭伪蟿伪 苇蠂蠅 蟽蟿慰 渭蠀伪位蠈 渭慰蠀 魏维胃蔚 蠁慰蟻维 蟺慰蠀 未喂伪尾维味蠅 螡伪渭蟺蠈魏慰蠁:
听1慰谓, 未蔚谓 蟺蟻苇蟺蔚喂 谓伪 蟿慰谓 蟺伪委蟻谓蠅 魏伪胃蠈位慰蠀 蟽蟿伪 蟽慰尾伪蟻维 魏伪喂
听2慰谓, 蟺蟻苇蟺蔚喂 谓伪 蟿慰谓 蟺伪委蟻谓蠅 蟺慰位蠉 蟽蟿伪 蟽慰尾伪蟻维..
螣 螔位伪未委渭畏蟻慰蟼 萎蟿伪谓 慰 蟺蟻蠋蟿慰蟼 维谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰蟼 蟺慰蠀 渭鈥� 苇魏伪谓蔚 谓伪 谓慰喂蠋蟽蠅 蟿慰 蟿喂 蟿蟻慰渭蔚蟻萎 纬畏蟿蔚喂维 蔚委谓伪喂 畏 位慰纬慰蟿蔚蠂谓委伪, 纬喂伪 渭苇谓伪 喂蟽蠂蠀蟻蠈蟿蔚蟻畏 魏喂 伪蟺鈥� 蟿畏谓 蔚蟻蠅蟿喂魏萎 味维位畏, 蠂蔚喂蟻蠈蟿蔚蟻畏 魏喂 伪蟺鈥� 蟿畏谓 苇位尉畏 蟺慰蠀 伪蟽魏蔚委 蟿慰 蠂蔚委位慰蟼 蟿畏蟼 伪尾蠉蟽蟽慰蠀. 韦苇蟿慰喂伪 纬畏蟿蔚喂维..听听螘委谓伪喂 魏喂 苇谓伪蟼 维位位慰蟼 纬畏蟿蔚蠀蟿萎蟼, 伪蟺鈥� 蟿畏谓 螝慰位慰渭尾委伪, 伪位位维 纬喂鈥� 伪蠀蟿蠈谓 胃伪 蠂蟻蔚喂伪蟽蟿蠋 100 蠂蟻蠈谓喂伪 纬喂伪 谓伪 尉蔚魏伪胃伪蟻委蟽蠅 蟿慰 蟿喂 蟽蟿伪 魏慰渭渭维蟿喂伪 渭慰蠀 蟺蟻慰魏维位蔚蟽蔚..
螣 螡伪渭蟺蠈魏慰蠁 蔚委谓伪喂 慰 螖畏渭喂慰蠀蟻纬蠈蟼 蟺慰蠀, 蠈蟺蠅蟼 慰 螠委魏蠀 蟽蟿畏 蠁伪谓蟿伪蟽委伪 蟿慰蠀 螡蟿委蟽谓蔚蠀, 蟽蟿苇魏蔚喂 蟽蟿慰 尾维胃蟻慰 蟿慰蠀 渭蔚 蟿慰 蟻伪尾未维魏喂 伪蟺蠈 魏慰蠀蠁慰尉蠀位喂维 魏伪喂听听未喂伪蟿维味蔚喂 蟿畏 未畏渭喂慰蠀蟻纬委伪 蟽蠀渭蟺维谓蟿蠅谓, 慰位慰魏位畏蟻蠅渭苇谓蠅谓 魏蠈蟽渭蠅谓. 螆蟿蟽喂, 纬喂伪 蟿畏谓 蟺位维魏伪 蟿慰蠀. 螝伪喂 伪蠁慰蠉 蟿伪 蠁蟿喂维尉蔚喂, 魏维胃蔚蟿伪喂 魏伪喂 蟺伪委味蔚喂 渭蔚 蟿伪 蟽蠀蟽蟿伪蟿喂魏维 蟿慰蠀蟼 (蟿喂蟼 位苇尉蔚喂蟼) 蟽伪谓 蟺伪喂未维魏喂 渭蔚 蟿伪 蟿慰蠀尾位维魏喂伪 蟿慰蠀.听听韦喂 谓伪 蟺慰蠉渭蔚, 蠈蟿喂 苇蠂蔚喂 蠂喂慰蠉渭慰蟻 萎 (未喂伪纬伪位伪尉喂伪魏萎) 伪喂蟽胃畏蟿喂魏萎; 螖蔚谓 苇蠂蠅 未喂伪尾维蟽蔚喂 维位位慰谓 渭蔚 蟿苇蟿慰喂慰 伪蟺蠈位蠀蟿慰 苇位蔚纬蠂慰 蟽蟿慰听听蠀位喂魏蠈 蟿慰蠀, 蟿蠈蟽慰 魏蠀蟻委伪蟻蠂慰 蟿畏蟼 (蠂伪蟻伪魏蟿畏蟻喂蟽蟿喂魏维 未喂魏萎蟼 蟿慰蠀 - 谓伪渭蟺慰魏慰蠁喂魏萎蟼)听听渭伪谓喂苇蟻伪蟼. 螠鈥� 苇谓伪 蟻伪尾未维魏喂.. 螝伪喂 蟿慰 位苇蠅 蔚纬蠋, 蟺慰蠀 慰 螁谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰蟼 渭慰蠀 萎蟿伪谓 - 魏伪喂 蔚委谓伪喂-听听慰 桅委位喂蟺 巍慰胃..
螤维谓蟿蠅蟼 蟿o听蟽蠀纬魏蔚魏蟻喂渭苇谓慰 苇蟻纬慰 渭慰蠀 胃蠀渭委味蔚喂 魏伪喂 位委纬慰 蟿慰 蟽蟿蠀位 蟿慰蠀 螠蟺蠈蟻蠂蔚蟼, (蟿慰蠀 慰蟺慰委慰蠀 蠈渭蠅蟼 蟺蟻慰畏纬萎胃畏魏蔚 慰 危.螡. ) 未畏位伪未萎 魏维蟿慰蟺蟿蟻慰 伪蟺苇谓伪谓蟿喂 蟽蔚 魏维蟿慰蟺蟿蟻慰:听 蟿慰 尾喂尾位委慰 (蟿慰蠀 螡伪渭蟺蠈魏慰蠁) 伪蠁慰蟻维 蟽蟿畏 未喂伪未喂魏伪蟽委伪 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁萎蟼 蔚谓蠈蟼 尾喂尾位委慰蠀 (蟿慰蠀 伪未蔚位蠁慰蠉, V. ) 蟺慰蠀 慰蠀蟽喂伪蟽蟿喂魏维 伪谓伪蠁苇蟻蔚蟿伪喂 蟽蟿畏谓 蟺蔚蟻喂蟺苇蟿蔚喂伪 蟿畏蟼 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁萎蟼 蟿蠅谓 尾喂尾位委蠅谓 蔚谓蠈蟼 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪 (蟿慰蠀 危. 螡维喂蟿, 蔚谓蠈蟼 蔚蟿蔚蟻蠋谓蠀渭慰蠀 蟿慰蠀 螔位伪谓蟿) 渭蔚 蟿畏 渭慰蟻蠁萎 畏渭蔚蟻慰位慰纬喂伪魏蠋谓 蟽畏渭蔚喂蠋蟽蔚蠅谓, 未伪纬魏蠋谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟿畏谓 慰蠀蟻维 蟿慰蠀..
螒, 蟿喂 蠁喂谓维位蔚!!
螤伪委味蔚喂 谓伪 蔚委谓伪喂 魏伪喂 蟿慰 魏伪位蠉蟿蔚蟻慰 伪蟺蠈 蟿伪 未喂魏维 蟿慰蠀 蟺慰蠀 苇蠂蠅 未喂伪尾维蟽蔚喂 (蟿伪 蠈蠂喂 蟺慰位位维), 蔚魏蟿蠈蟼 伪蟺蠈 蟿慰.. 伪蠀蟿蠈.听
螖蠉慰 蟺蟻维纬渭伪蟿伪 苇蠂蠅 蟽蟿慰 渭蠀伪位蠈 渭慰蠀 魏维胃蔚 蠁慰蟻维 蟺慰蠀 未喂伪尾维味蠅 螡伪渭蟺蠈魏慰蠁:
听1慰谓, 未蔚谓 蟺蟻苇蟺蔚喂 谓伪 蟿慰谓 蟺伪委蟻谓蠅 魏伪胃蠈位慰蠀 蟽蟿伪 蟽慰尾伪蟻维 魏伪喂
听2慰谓, 蟺蟻苇蟺蔚喂 谓伪 蟿慰谓 蟺伪委蟻谓蠅 蟺慰位蠉 蟽蟿伪 蟽慰尾伪蟻维..
螣 螔位伪未委渭畏蟻慰蟼 萎蟿伪谓 慰 蟺蟻蠋蟿慰蟼 维谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰蟼 蟺慰蠀 渭鈥� 苇魏伪谓蔚 谓伪 谓慰喂蠋蟽蠅 蟿慰 蟿喂 蟿蟻慰渭蔚蟻萎 纬畏蟿蔚喂维 蔚委谓伪喂 畏 位慰纬慰蟿蔚蠂谓委伪, 纬喂伪 渭苇谓伪 喂蟽蠂蠀蟻蠈蟿蔚蟻畏 魏喂 伪蟺鈥� 蟿畏谓 蔚蟻蠅蟿喂魏萎 味维位畏, 蠂蔚喂蟻蠈蟿蔚蟻畏 魏喂 伪蟺鈥� 蟿畏谓 苇位尉畏 蟺慰蠀 伪蟽魏蔚委 蟿慰 蠂蔚委位慰蟼 蟿畏蟼 伪尾蠉蟽蟽慰蠀. 韦苇蟿慰喂伪 纬畏蟿蔚喂维..听听螘委谓伪喂 魏喂 苇谓伪蟼 维位位慰蟼 纬畏蟿蔚蠀蟿萎蟼, 伪蟺鈥� 蟿畏谓 螝慰位慰渭尾委伪, 伪位位维 纬喂鈥� 伪蠀蟿蠈谓 胃伪 蠂蟻蔚喂伪蟽蟿蠋 100 蠂蟻蠈谓喂伪 纬喂伪 谓伪 尉蔚魏伪胃伪蟻委蟽蠅 蟿慰 蟿喂 蟽蟿伪 魏慰渭渭维蟿喂伪 渭慰蠀 蟺蟻慰魏维位蔚蟽蔚..
螣 螡伪渭蟺蠈魏慰蠁 蔚委谓伪喂 慰 螖畏渭喂慰蠀蟻纬蠈蟼 蟺慰蠀, 蠈蟺蠅蟼 慰 螠委魏蠀 蟽蟿畏 蠁伪谓蟿伪蟽委伪 蟿慰蠀 螡蟿委蟽谓蔚蠀, 蟽蟿苇魏蔚喂 蟽蟿慰 尾维胃蟻慰 蟿慰蠀 渭蔚 蟿慰 蟻伪尾未维魏喂 伪蟺蠈 魏慰蠀蠁慰尉蠀位喂维 魏伪喂听听未喂伪蟿维味蔚喂 蟿畏 未畏渭喂慰蠀蟻纬委伪 蟽蠀渭蟺维谓蟿蠅谓, 慰位慰魏位畏蟻蠅渭苇谓蠅谓 魏蠈蟽渭蠅谓. 螆蟿蟽喂, 纬喂伪 蟿畏谓 蟺位维魏伪 蟿慰蠀. 螝伪喂 伪蠁慰蠉 蟿伪 蠁蟿喂维尉蔚喂, 魏维胃蔚蟿伪喂 魏伪喂 蟺伪委味蔚喂 渭蔚 蟿伪 蟽蠀蟽蟿伪蟿喂魏维 蟿慰蠀蟼 (蟿喂蟼 位苇尉蔚喂蟼) 蟽伪谓 蟺伪喂未维魏喂 渭蔚 蟿伪 蟿慰蠀尾位维魏喂伪 蟿慰蠀.听听韦喂 谓伪 蟺慰蠉渭蔚, 蠈蟿喂 苇蠂蔚喂 蠂喂慰蠉渭慰蟻 萎 (未喂伪纬伪位伪尉喂伪魏萎) 伪喂蟽胃畏蟿喂魏萎; 螖蔚谓 苇蠂蠅 未喂伪尾维蟽蔚喂 维位位慰谓 渭蔚 蟿苇蟿慰喂慰 伪蟺蠈位蠀蟿慰 苇位蔚纬蠂慰 蟽蟿慰听听蠀位喂魏蠈 蟿慰蠀, 蟿蠈蟽慰 魏蠀蟻委伪蟻蠂慰 蟿畏蟼 (蠂伪蟻伪魏蟿畏蟻喂蟽蟿喂魏维 未喂魏萎蟼 蟿慰蠀 - 谓伪渭蟺慰魏慰蠁喂魏萎蟼)听听渭伪谓喂苇蟻伪蟼. 螠鈥� 苇谓伪 蟻伪尾未维魏喂.. 螝伪喂 蟿慰 位苇蠅 蔚纬蠋, 蟺慰蠀 慰 螁谓胃蟻蠅蟺慰蟼 渭慰蠀 萎蟿伪谓 - 魏伪喂 蔚委谓伪喂-听听慰 桅委位喂蟺 巍慰胃..
螤维谓蟿蠅蟼 蟿o听蟽蠀纬魏蔚魏蟻喂渭苇谓慰 苇蟻纬慰 渭慰蠀 胃蠀渭委味蔚喂 魏伪喂 位委纬慰 蟿慰 蟽蟿蠀位 蟿慰蠀 螠蟺蠈蟻蠂蔚蟼, (蟿慰蠀 慰蟺慰委慰蠀 蠈渭蠅蟼 蟺蟻慰畏纬萎胃畏魏蔚 慰 危.螡. ) 未畏位伪未萎 魏维蟿慰蟺蟿蟻慰 伪蟺苇谓伪谓蟿喂 蟽蔚 魏维蟿慰蟺蟿蟻慰:听 蟿慰 尾喂尾位委慰 (蟿慰蠀 螡伪渭蟺蠈魏慰蠁) 伪蠁慰蟻维 蟽蟿畏 未喂伪未喂魏伪蟽委伪 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁萎蟼 蔚谓蠈蟼 尾喂尾位委慰蠀 (蟿慰蠀 伪未蔚位蠁慰蠉, V. ) 蟺慰蠀 慰蠀蟽喂伪蟽蟿喂魏维 伪谓伪蠁苇蟻蔚蟿伪喂 蟽蟿畏谓 蟺蔚蟻喂蟺苇蟿蔚喂伪 蟿畏蟼 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁萎蟼 蟿蠅谓 尾喂尾位委蠅谓 蔚谓蠈蟼 蟽蠀纬纬蟻伪蠁苇伪 (蟿慰蠀 危. 螡维喂蟿, 蔚谓蠈蟼 蔚蟿蔚蟻蠋谓蠀渭慰蠀 蟿慰蠀 螔位伪谓蟿) 渭蔚 蟿畏 渭慰蟻蠁萎 畏渭蔚蟻慰位慰纬喂伪魏蠋谓 蟽畏渭蔚喂蠋蟽蔚蠅谓, 未伪纬魏蠋谓慰谓蟿伪蟼 蟿畏谓 慰蠀蟻维 蟿慰蠀..
螒, 蟿喂 蠁喂谓维位蔚!!
September 7, 2009
Nabokov has such a masterful command of the English language - which wasn't even his native tongue - that I stand in awe of his glorious turns of phrase, alliterations, puns, and other linguistic tricks. He puns in French, too, while I weep with envy.
I personally thought Sebastian Knight was a much better book than Lolita, the Nabokov book that everyone's read. The nameless narrator, the half-brother of the eponymous character, spends the entirety of the novel attempting to piece together the life of his deceased brother, a famous writer - the two loves of his life, the circumstances surrounding the writing and publication of each of his books, his clueless and shady biographer, and his sad death.
I was reminded more than once of several of Roberto Bolano's novels, since Bolano tends to concentrate on writers and their work in his own fiction, and his prose is as equally purple as Nabokov's.
Thanks to Margaret for adding this one to a stack of books she loaned me, thinking I would like them. So far, she's not been wrong.
I personally thought Sebastian Knight was a much better book than Lolita, the Nabokov book that everyone's read. The nameless narrator, the half-brother of the eponymous character, spends the entirety of the novel attempting to piece together the life of his deceased brother, a famous writer - the two loves of his life, the circumstances surrounding the writing and publication of each of his books, his clueless and shady biographer, and his sad death.
I was reminded more than once of several of Roberto Bolano's novels, since Bolano tends to concentrate on writers and their work in his own fiction, and his prose is as equally purple as Nabokov's.
Thanks to Margaret for adding this one to a stack of books she loaned me, thinking I would like them. So far, she's not been wrong.
May 16, 2021
Hmm, not entirely sure why this didn鈥檛 really click for me 鈥� perhaps it was just a case of bad timing, or not the best book to pick as my second taste of Nabokov... Whatever the reason, it took me a frustratingly long time to plough through a relatively short novel. Despite some beautiful sentences and plenty of wit, I was never particularly interested in the truth of writer Sebastian Knight鈥檚 life, nor his half-brother鈥檚 attempts to write about him.
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August 27, 2017
螒蟻喂蟽蟿慰蠉蟻纬畏渭伪 :p
June 29, 2021
This novel is a fictional biography narrated by a fictional half brother of a deceased fictional author of numerous fictional books. Both of these fictional half brothers are Russians living in exile in Europe. The fact that the real life author of this book, Vladimir Nabokov, was also a Russian living in exile in Europe when this book was written leads to the suggestion that this book may be partly biographic. At any rate, there are plenty of exiled Russians in this novel.
We learn from the book that Sebastian Knight died in early 1936, and most of the book tells of the efforts of his half brother to collect information to write a biography about him. If the text is simply read for its surface meaning the story is quite uneventful. But along the way there are numerous references to the contents of the books written by SK and a variety of strange characters are introduced which if analyzed together can provide patterns and foreboding signs that create swoons of ecstasy for the literati. I'll not be able to provide that analysis here.
The book ends with the following words:
From what I've read this book was not well received by critics or sales when first published. However after Lolita ended up being a best seller the critics took a second look and decided that it had literary merit after all. Apparently those early critics didn't have the time or energy to glean the morsels of literary gold鈥攋ust like me.
An interview with PhD who studies Nabokov:
We learn from the book that Sebastian Knight died in early 1936, and most of the book tells of the efforts of his half brother to collect information to write a biography about him. If the text is simply read for its surface meaning the story is quite uneventful. But along the way there are numerous references to the contents of the books written by SK and a variety of strange characters are introduced which if analyzed together can provide patterns and foreboding signs that create swoons of ecstasy for the literati. I'll not be able to provide that analysis here.
The book ends with the following words:
Thus 鈥� I am Sebastian Knight. I feel as if I were impersonating him on a lighted stage, with the people he knew coming and going 鈥� the dim figures of the few friends he had, the scholar, the poet, the painter, 鈥� smoothly and noiselessly paying their graceful tribute [鈥. And then the masquerade draws to a close. The bald little prompter shuts his book, as the light fades gently. The end, the end. They all go back to their everyday life (and Clare goes back to her grave) 鈥� but the hero remains, for, try as I may, I cannot get out of my part: Sebastian鈥檚 mask clings to my face, the likeness will not be washed off. I am Sebastian, or Sebastian is I, or perhaps we both are someone whom neither of us knows.I happen to know that Nabokov used an unreliable narrator in Lolita, so my first thought when I read the above was to wonder about the reliablity of the narrator. Is this book an account of Nabokov struggling with two sides of himself?
From what I've read this book was not well received by critics or sales when first published. However after Lolita ended up being a best seller the critics took a second look and decided that it had literary merit after all. Apparently those early critics didn't have the time or energy to glean the morsels of literary gold鈥攋ust like me.
An interview with PhD who studies Nabokov:
March 6, 2018
An interesting conundrum that reminds me of a dinner party at Le Grand Rire in midtown NYC, herewith a fable: in a private room hostess Flossie Fidget seated me next to Commodore Sackbut, said the placard, whom I've longed to meet. Over a fricasse of snails, fed, or rather purged with milk, and fritters of pompions and lovage, we got sauced discussing the pleasures of vice over virtue, and pain over politesse.-- (Topics in his book of collected essays). We also paid our respects to several bottles of champagne, which added to the gummy conviviality of our behaviour. At end of this marvelous party, I thanked Flossie Fidget for my placement. Oh, she said, I'm so sorry the Commodore couldn't come, but I'm glad your attention was engaged by his cousin, though I don't know his name. Who the devil was I amusing with conversation, I wondered. As I left Le Grand Rire, (first time there), the maitre'd tapped my shoulder and said knowingly, "Good to see you, Commodore Sackbut, soon again, I trust."
November 2, 2015
I was strongly reminded of my Lolita reading experience. Nabokov makes you read every single word of every sentence. It's an intense reading experience and he makes me focus like no other author I've come across. I don't have too many thoughts and feelings towards the story itself. It was a bit exhausting to read and would definitely benefit from a reread or two. Just what I expected from Nabokov.
December 2, 2024
My problem with male authors today is that they will never be Vladimir Nabokov
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