Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

"The moon's an arrant thief
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun."
-William Shakespeare

Pale Fire is a work of genius. A pièce de résistance.

‘Pale Fire� is the name of a poem in 999 lines written by our fictional poet John Shade. It is being narrated by his friend and neighbor Charles Kinbote with rather a long foreword and an even longer commentary.

Who rides so late in the night and the wind?

I must confess that in the beginning I was a bit confused. What is this? I asked myself. Was Nabokov alright when writing this book? The poem is nice and ordinary, so why should it be followed by a lengthy clarification and interpretation? And what’s up with Kinbote? Why is he so obsessed with the poem and the poet and why does he often digress and starts talking about some king in ‘Zembla�?

Before long, as I continued reading, it became clear that those clarifications are more vital and significant than the poem itself; that Kinbote is trying to tell us something; that nothing is as it seems.

Who has the stopwatch? Who rewinds the tape?
Are some less lucky, or do all escape?
A syllogism: other men die; but I
Am not another; therefore I’ll not die.