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Nabokov Vladimir
The Stories of Vladimir Nabokov
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DescriptionFrom the writer who shocked and delighted the world with his novels Lolita, Pale Fire, and so many others, comes a magnificent collection of stories. Written between the 1920s and 1950s, these sixty-five tales--eleven of which have been translated into English for the first time--display all the shades of Nabokov's imagination. They range from sprightly fables to bittersweet tales of loss, from claustrophobic exercises in horror to a connoisseur's samplings of the table of human folly. Read as a whole, The Stories of Vladimir Nabokov offers and intoxicating draft of the master's genius, his devious wit, and his ability to turn language into an instrument of ecstasy.These stories, written between the early 1920s to the mid-1950s, reveal the fascinating progress of Nabokov's early development as they remind us that we are in the presence of a magnificent original, a genuine master. Edited by his son and translator, Dmitri Nabokov, this volume is a literary event. Customer ReviewsLove Nabokov, HORRIBLE binding.My book was bound horribly. The glue was dried and squished out of the seams. It wasn't just one copy as I purchased two in two separate orders, one for myself and one for a gift. Go with another version as these new covers are not worth the crappy binding that will come apart within a year. Only after the food of the Gods has been sampled the epicurean is born This book is incredible. It contains such mastery that honestly after reading it, I can't read anyone else. Everyone pales in comparison. Once you've tasted ambrosia, when you are kicked out of heaven (at page 642), you might, as I certainly have, come to see all other attempts at literature as somewhat incomplete, lacking, and even tasteless. Only after the food of the Gods has been sampled the epicurean is born. Dimitri's translation is just as good, with nuances you will never find anywhere in the English language. Ho-Ho. Gold Standard for Short Stories Put simply, this collection of short stories is a contemporary gold standard for the form. Nabokov's stories are packed with sparkling surprises, playful artifices and languid, confident language. I've put together a 50+ year reading vita and I find myself drawn back to these stories like a moth to flame... There's nothing like a good Nabokov story Started out reading this book little by little in order to digest each story in full, but then began reading one story after another with seemingly no intermission in between. Both ways suited me fine. In fact, sometimes it doesn't really help to think all that long about some of his stories--they are are like simple chance meetings w/ strangers, while other stories of his spawn dramatic lifetime relationships and require, even demand your utmost attention. Everytime I stray from reading Nabokov I always come back to his books and think, "Wow, he is such an amazing writer!". I can't say enough about his detailed descriptions, his amazing perspectives, and his uncannily large English vocabulary. He never ceases to amaze me. Wondrous Although I had read various Nabokov stories over the years I had never done so in a comprehensive manner, and finally decided to do so. I anticipated that this would be a wonderful read, and of course, I was right. I was well aware as to how gifted Nabokov is with the language; what surprised me is his versatility. It seems like there is nothing he can't do. Contained in this collection is every kind of character imaginable: rich, poor, simple, smart; there is even an entirely credible portrait of a Siamese twin. There is straight drama, fantasy, adventure, horror and intrigue. There are all the elements of what our English teachers told us make good writing: symbolism, allegory, descriptive power, observation, wit, cleverness, heart, and an enormous store of knowledge, performed in a style that can only be described as poetic. And woven through it are the themes that make up the web of humanity: beauty, truth, and love. It is an utterly splendid collection, as good a collection of short stories as any I have ever read. One of the things that sets him apart is restraint, or perhaps subtlety is a better word. In, "The Reunion," for example, two brothers meet after not seeing each other for ten years. One escaped the Soviet Union and is living a poor, almost wretched existence in Berlin. His brother stayed, and was able to achieve some success as a Soviet functionary. They finally meet each other in the Berliner's shabby apartment. Most authors would not be able to resist the urge to let this to sink into melodrama. There would be arguments, tears, and recriminations. But not for Nabokov. In his story the brothers simply find that they are uncomfortable with one another, and when they go their separate ways the seeming lack of drama beforehand makes their parting all the more poignant. Humor and sadness are evident in all of this collection, sometimes in succeeding stories, sometimes in succeeding pages. "A Bad Day," is the touching and amusing story of a little boy's visit to his cousins in the Russian countryside, a visit he dreads because he doesn't get along and because he will be teased. The last line of the story--which in the hands of somebody like Updike would be a devastating condemnation of humanity--is here bittersweet, bringing both a tear to the eye and a smile to the face in self-recognition. It is, after all, nothing more than a "bad day." But if there is whimsy here there is also great power. In, "Signs and Symbols," an old man and woman make a trip to the sanatorium to visit their deranged adult son on his birthday. Such a simple exercise is made terribly complicated by their age, their lack of means, the unpredictable nature of their son, and the indifference of the hospital staff. Nothing is really resolved by story's end; we are simply given an indelible portrait of the difficult, arduous journey that life has been for these uncomplicated, decent people. It is very moving and also an excellent example of Nabokov's worldly or otherworldly knowledge. Many of the stories here have to do with, as you would expect, Russians and Russian expatriates. ("Write about what you know!" the English teachers say.) Nabokov unfortunately knew about the horrible experience of being exiled from his country, a country that his stories make clear he deeply loved, and to which he never returned. He doesn't spend a lot of time condemning the evil system that drove him and millions like him away, (although he does, briefly, in two of his earlier, weaker stories), he instead concentrates on those that it drove away. There are many excellent examples of this, but perhaps my favorite is entitled, "Cloud, Castle, Lake." In it, an older fellow is taken on a holiday train excursion he tries to get out of, is coerced into taking part in activities he doesn't wish to engage, and told to forsake the simple pleasures he has come to enjoy; all for--he is told--his own good. The train eventually stops at a perfect little inn, which overlooks a perfect lake in which is reflected a lovely cloud and castle. He wants to stay. Of course, he can't. Sad as it is, the story is also very amusing, and, typical of Nabokov at his best, works on several different levels. The story also contains examples of Nabokov's splendid use of the language at the height of his power. Our friend observes the countryside from his hurtling train: "The badly pressed shadow of the car sped madly along the grassy bank, where flowers blended into colored streaks. A crossing: a cyclist was waiting, resting one foot upon the ground. Trees appeared in groups and singly, revolving coolly and blandly, displaying the latest fashions. The blue dampness of a ravine. A memory of love, disguised as a meadow. Wispy clouds--greyhounds of heaven." How marvelously descriptive this, and so beautiful that one finds oneself emotionally engaged. The book is loaded with this stuff. You can barely turn a page without some surprise or delight awaiting you. A twenty-eight year old son returns unexpectedly after many years to visit his mother in, "The Doorbell." In the dimly lit room, he is taken aback by the fact that she is clearly preoccupied with something. Suddenly, "like a stupid sun issuing from a stupid cloud, the electric light burst forth from the ceiling." This, by the way, is another great story. In, "Ultima Thule," as a character is walking on the beach, "a wave would arrive, all out of breath, but, as it had nothing to report, it would disperse in apologetic salaams." I could go on and on. After picking up the book I decided to read it cover to cover, but after about a hundred and fifty pages, I simply opened it and read the stories randomly. After a time I began to open the book onto stories I had already read, and found that I couldn't help but to reread them. Finally, I became apprehensive in fear that I might have missed something. But no matter. If I haven't gotten to one yet, I will eventually. The book has already become an old friend, and like an old friend I will return to its comfort and joys for many years to come.
Lolita
 List Price: Price: $7.50 DescriptionOriginally written in 1955, this comic satire of sex and the American ways of life focuses on the love of a middle-aged European for an American nymphet. It was made into a Stanley Kubrick film in 1962, starring Peter Sellers, James Mason and Sue Lyon.Despite its lascivious reputation, the pleasures of Lolita are as much intellectual as erogenous. It is a love story with the power to raise both chuckles and eyebrows. Humbert Humbert is a European intellectual adrift in America, haunted by memories of a lost adolescent love. When he meets his ideal nymphet in the shape of 12-year-old Dolores Haze, he constructs an elaborate plot to seduce her, but first he must get rid of her mother. In spite of his diabolical wit, reality proves to be more slippery than Humbert's feverish fantasies, and Lolita refuses to conform to his image of the perfect lover. Playfully perverse in form as well as content, riddled with puns and literary allusions, Nabokov's 1955 novel is a hymn to the Russian-born author's delight in his adopted language. Indeed, readers who want to probe all of its allusive nooks and crannies will need to consult the annotated edition. Lolita is undoubtedly, brazenly erotic, but the eroticism springs less from the "frail honey-hued shoulders ... the silky supple bare back" of little Lo than it does from the wantonly gorgeous prose that Humbert uses to recount his forbidden passion: She was musical and apple-sweet ... Lola the bobby-soxer, devouring her immemorial fruit, singing through its juice ... and every movement she made, every shuffle and ripple, helped me to conceal and to improve the secret system of tactile correspondence between beast and beauty--between my gagged, bursting beast and the beauty of her dimpled body in its innocent cotton frock.Much has been made of Lolita as metaphor, perhaps because the love affair at its heart is so troubling. Humbert represents the formal, educated Old World of Europe, while Lolita is America: ripening, beautiful, but not too bright and a little vulgar. Nabokov delights in exploring the intercourse between these cultures, and the passages where Humbert describes the suburbs and strip malls and motels of postwar America are filled with both attraction and repulsion, "those restaurants where the holy spirit of Huncan Dines had descended upon the cute paper napkins and cottage-cheese-crested salads." Yet however tempting the novel's symbolism may be, its chief delight--and power--lies in the character of Humbert Humbert. He, at least as he tells it, is no seedy skulker, no twisted destroyer of innocence. Instead, Nabokov's celebrated mouthpiece is erudite and witty, even at his most depraved. Humbert can't help it--linguistic jouissance is as important to him as the satisfaction of his arrested libido. --Simon Leake Customer ReviewsYou love it while hating it. Such a work of art.I found myself guiltily reading this book. It was given to me and it sat on my shelf for years. Then I curiously picked it up to read a few pages. . .I was hooked. The lush sensuality of the language pulled me in. I wanted to live in a world with language like this. While enjoying the author's delivery, I was acutely aware of the disturbing direction this book was taking. It felt honest in that you could see through Humbert's twisted thinking to the distruction he was causing. This book didn't idealize perversion and the idolization of Lolita was like a piece of fruit that was gorgeous on the outside, then you took a bite and realized that it was being devoured by a worm. This book made me think and is one of the best books I've ever read. I remember being an adolescent girl. I remember the subtle looks or even the daring catcalls from men twice my age. . . this book is scary and divine, disgusting and beautiful. That is why it's a work of art. Did NOT get proper information when ordering! I did NOT get proper information when placing the order! When the order was placed - your representative did NOT give accurate information as to when the book would be delivered; therefore, after seeing the correct date it would arrive in Italy in your follow-up missive, the order was cancelled and I am waiting for the refund to be sent to me! Peeling the Onion of Humanity First of all the topic and concept are utterly wretched. A pervert praying on female children, spending an extraordinary amount of energy trying to squeeze empathy from the readers. As if that wasn't ugly enough the story conclude by murdering the person that saved the poor child. But in spite of all that, I still enjoyed reading the book and basking in the naked perversion. Being a male in a victorian society, one looks for outlets, even imaginative ones, and it's difficult to get outraged about your own lurid nature, a nature put there by God. To love is our nature. This book appeals to the base humanity and the lowly creature stirring within. It was brave material for its day and maintains a universal but savage appeal. A must read... If at least once. Nabokov is my boyfriend's favorite author and when he heard that I had not read any of his novels he immediately suggested I read Pale Fire and then suggested Lolita. I started off with Lolita, though I did not know what it was about. Going off of my bf's suggestions I assumed I would not be offended... But as someone who was molested at the age of 11, I was deeply offended and I think that that was what ultimately got me to strive to finish the book as fast as I could. Read a classic till the end just for the fact that I could say that I'd read it. Yes, the style is great, Nabokov is an excellent writer, if not one of the best I have ever read. The thing that got to me, though it was not the author's fault by any means was the reopening of old wounds, the content, and the attempt (at times successful) to make his characters likable, albeit demented in some way or another. I had to force myself to keep an open mind even though I personally did not WANT to know any of the mindless dribblings of a pedophile. It was a one sided love story, and when I say love story I mean a delusional obsession with a little girl who grows up not as a strong individual, but as a sexual deviant... Again, Nabokov is a great writer... It was just hard to cope with the content. It was really good! It begins with Humbert Humbert, an old pervert who has a crush on this 12 year old girl and begins to form a relationship with her. What makes this book brilliant is the psychological depth and it's allusions to great literature. This book really delves into it's theme and is has the complexity of an ocean. Nabokov writes with a fluidity and grace of language that it helps give us an understanding about who H.H is. And even though we hate H.H, we are still enthralled by the narrative which although it is appalling, it is quite interesting.
Strong Opinions
 List Price: Price: $11.21 You Save: $4.79 (30%) Product Details
DescriptionIn this collection of interviews, articles, and editorials, Nabakov ranges over his life, art, education and politics amoung other subjects.Customer Reviewsa ManThe title says it all. The last section of the book, some twenty pages consists of primarily lepidoptera papers which may or may not interest fiction devotees of N's fiction. His generous use of the epithet "philistine" may rouse some prejudice against N.'s apparently pharisaical and insolent notions on literature, psychology, politics and such, but he always is sure to qualify those strong opinions as solely his own; in large, he abstains from truth claims that would make his book little more than the exegesis of a Pharisee. Besides, one doesn't read a book of opinions for the author's Truth (with a "T!"), unless that is, you are a Kurt Vonnegut follower. Great insights, humor and opinions from a great author. Minus a star or two for a certain degree of repetitiveness. A Nabokov fan, disillusioned by this book Before I first encountered STRONG OPINIONS, I was a Nabokov fan. Reading this collection, however, changed my view of him for good. The man's weird animus against literally hundreds of major authors (Cervantes, Camus, Balzac, Mann, Stendhal, Lorca, Faulkner--you name 'em!) is terribly mean-spirited and small. His attacks on Freud get tiresome, and one begins to wonder if he ever did read much Freud in any depth. He also goes after other leading thinkers and even lets fly against, in his words, "Einstein's slick formulae" (I'm really quoting). And his defense of the U.S. war on Vietnam is incredibly ignorant and simplistic, even stupid. Nabokov the artist was a major presence who altered the shape of literature. Nabokov the man, by contrast, was a nasty, dogmatic, narrow-minded little fellow who couldn't countenance any aesthetic but his own. I'm not the only Nabokovophile who has had this "conversion." I know several others who've had the same experience. A portrait of the artist as a man The book includes interviews, literary essays and five short articles on Lepidoptera. Since the book covers the main themes in Nabokov's life on one hand and is carefully compiled by Nabokov himself on the other, it presents a kind of self-portrait. Its author was a remarkably relentless rewriter, who noted that "[he] rewrote several times every word that [he] has ever published" and that even his recounting of the last night's dream to his wife was "but the first draft", and so this book is the result of no less a meticulous labor than his novels are. It presents a carefully drafted portrait, at times blatantly revealing, at times guardedly mystifying, but always elegantly or freshly phrased. In his "Lectures on Literature", Nabokov mentions a character in "Bleak House", a man appearing only for a sentence or two just to help carry in from the street an old man in his chair. He gets a tuppence for his labors, tosses it in the air, catches it over-handed, and leaves. Nabokov points out that this one word, "over-handed", makes all the difference: it is a drop of color which renders even an incidental character alive. It seems that Nabokov's own public persona is similarly brought to life with the stories of borrowing a television set (which otherwise he did not watch) to see the first man landing on the Moon, or of having driven a car twice in his life (both times disastrously). Some of the essays presented in the book are real gems. The 4-page piece "On Adaptation" is a beautiful critique of Robert Lowell's unfortunate rendition in English of Mandelshtam's famous poem. The highly amusing penultimate sentence, where Nabokov applies to one of Lowell's poems the techniques Lowell used in his version of Mandelshtam's, makes the most expressive argument for literal translation and for preserving the writer's intent. In a way, this one sentence makes a better case for Nabokov's verbatim translation of "Eugene Onegin" than the much longer if very engaging article answering Wilson's critique of Nabokov's translation of Pushkin's masterpiece. Another essay, "Inspiration", provides a rare glimpse into the writer's sanctum sanctorum: a detailed description of a writer's interaction with his muse. Nabokov presents here several examples of what he considers inspired writing and expresses hope that students will learn to recognize it in the books they read. The students of Nabokov will certainly recognize inspiration in his own writing, revealing itself in elegant phrasing and fierce independence of thought and making his answers even to the most mundane questions worth reading. Strong opinions is the term This collection of interviews and articles is essential reading for lovers of Nabokov's fiction. Throughout he presents himself as a full blown iconoclast, presenting in lucid prose (Nabokov never answered interview questions without having time to prepare beforehand), delicious vignettes into his character and theories of literature. Here you will find, a staunch defence of why he translated Pushkin literally (and a funny damning of his erstwhile foil, Edmund Wilson's misplaced criticism; reflections on the course of his triptych life (Russia, Europe America); how his literary inspiration comes (the complete novel wells up inside him before it is written then curls itself out); a refusal to allow any social message to his work; the pleasures of writing (the tingle in the spine); his condemnation of a host of cannonical authors - Faulkner, Hemmingway, Conrad, Dostoevski etc.; and most importantly, the leitmoteif that runs through his thought, an extended diatribe against the vulgarities and pervasiveness of 'poshlost' (see p.100 in the paperback edition). If you absorb this defintition, and agree with its tenets, you will start to notice instances of poshlost spreading like a rash all over contemporary letters, films and journalism. In addition there are a couple of beautifully written pieces on butterfly hunting, a perfect subject for Nabokov's perceptive, aesthetic mind, and a lifelong passion of his. Nabokov in a nutshell This is a pretty good collection of Interviews with Nabokov and Nabokov's letters to editors and stuff like that. For people who want to find out more there's the comprehensive two volume biography of Nabokov by Brian Boyd. Nabokov's opinions in a nutshell? Thought everything written by James Joyce was completely mediocre except for "Ulysses," which towered above the rest of his ouvre as one of the supreme literary masterpieces of the 20th century. Loved Flaubert and Proust and Chateaubriand, did not like Stendhal (simple and full of cliches) or Balzac (full of absurdities). Loved Tolstoy's "Anna Karenina" (considered it the greatest novel of the 19th century) and "Death of Ivan Illych," hated "Resurrection" and "Kreutzer sonata." Liked Gogol, despised Dostoevsky as a melodramatic mystic (he even once gave a student an F in his course for disagreeing with him). Loathed Conrad and Hemingway, but liked the description of the fish in "Old Man and the Sea" and the short story "Killers." Hated Andre Gide, T.S.Eliot, Faulkner, Thomas Mann and D.H.Lawrence and considered them all frauds. Thought Kafka was great, Orwell mediocre. Despised Camus and Sartre, considered Celine a second rater, but liked H.G.Wells. Loved Kubrick's film of Lolita (thought it was absolutely first-rate in every way) but later in the '70s regretted that Sue Lyon (though instantly picked by Nabokov himself along with Kubrick out of a list of thousands) had been too old for the part & suggested that Catherine Demongeot, the boyish looking 11 year old who appeared in Louis Malle's 1960 film "Zazie dans le Metro" would've been just about perfect to induce the right amount of moral repulsion in the audience towards Humbert (and prevent them from enjoying the work on any superficial level other than the purely artistic). Liked avant-garde writers like Borges and Robbe-Grillet and even went out of his way to see Alain Resnais' film with Robbe-Grillet: "Last Year at Marienband." Didn't care for the films of von Sternberg or Fritz Lang, loved Laurel and Hardy. Made a point of saying how much he hated Lenin when it was fashionable to blame the disasters of the Soviet Union on Stalin. Supported the War in Vietnam and sent President Johnson a note saying he appreciated the good job he was doing bombing Vietnam. Never drove an automobile in his life & his wife was the one who drove him through the United States on scientific butterfly-hunting expeditions, all through the many locales & motels & lodges that later appeared in "Lolita." Seem interesting? You're bound to be offended even if Nabokov is one of your favorite writers. Genius or madman? I would say both, the 'divine madness' of the greatest of artists. Highly recommended for a peek inside the artistically fertile mind, and the tensions that need to be maintained to produce it.
Lolita (Vintage International)
 List Price: Price: $17.79 You Save: $9.16 (34%) DescriptionCustomer ReviewsThe BindingI love the story, but I didn't like the quality of the binding and the paper-enough to convince me that this amazon purchase is two stars. If you want to have your own private library, I don't think you'll be wanting this on your collection. Brilliant insight into the human comedy (and tragedy) One of my favorite books. The true seduction that lies within "Lolita" is not between Humbert Humbert and Lolita, but rather between Nabakov and the reader. With his prose and voice, he lures the reader in, and--content matter be damned--I was rapt until the last page. While some may be uncomfortable with the subject matter, it is handled with great care and the characters are far too complex for this to be a simple matter of predator and prey. The details in the book are exquisite, from expressing a simple gesture, a heartbreaking emotion, or a surreal and ludicrous road trip through America. Each character is fascinating--their motives, thoughts, actions, morals, and desires are complex, but often comedic at heart. And there is no lack of humor in "Lolita", the author cleverly uses comedy, often to reveal the undeniable truths of his characters. This book is rare in that so many people who read it have such a strong opinion or reaction to it...for that reason, and for the outstanding writing, I highly recommend this beautifully written classic. No matter what your opinion--it will rouse, interest, amuse, and grab you emotionally from beginning to end. Alas ... poor Humbert Humbert ... Having just re-read this novel once more, probably for the very last time, I'm struck by a few things. First off, without a doubt, Lolita is a great novel and Nabokov was a fantastic writer. I picked this back up because I had read about the hullabaloo concerning his final unpublished novel that had been in the custody of his son. I had also heard the story on NPR how everything he worked on, he planned out of index cards, which as a writer, sounded very familiar and incredibly intriguing. Writers always want to know exactly how their peers and heroes are pulling off their masterpieces. It's like looking behind the curtain in certain aspects. The truth is though, even great writers stumble, great men do cry, women have secrets, and so on. Yes, I know ... The first two-thirds of this book is very patiently written, complex and incredibly absorbing. In some places the reader almost feels guilty of reading something taboo and disgust creeps under the door frame quietly causing mild disturbance. Certain passages almost make you want to throw the book to the floor and go wash you hands of it, but you know that it was all intentional. Some of Nabokov's best writing is achieved in the first portions of this book without a doubt, and a few passages are indelible, touching and even sweet. However, without gilding the lilly with praise which is easy to do, I must say that this book also has a few flaws. While the realism of the conclusion is probably factual and not fantasy, the tone of the writing obviously shifts because of it. Nabokov strings you along into dizzying heights of all kinds of interest and intrigue and then pulls the carpet out as the book closes, drying out his text like beef jerky left on hot concrete in the midday sun -- forcing real life down your throat in a very mechanical manner. I often wonder if some of this was due to the material itself, or suggestions and changes made by his agent or subsequent changes that he made himself during the editing process and so on. I can imagine his representation being frightened to push this book. The point is that 'Lolita' almost collapses in on itself with it's ending. It seems like an ending to a different book entirely. Like the mid section of Oliver Twist where the lascivious and murderous deeds are removed for the length of almost a bible whilst our young Twist becomes a country squire and we have to endure a failing love-affair, the story degrades, interest wanes and the conclusion is read to the end, because you are compelled to see the ending even if it doesn't seem to fit with the rest of the story. Many good books have the tendency to fall apart, but the world of novels is not today what it was yesterday and such is the curse of change, marketing and popular culture. It makes a person wonder if Nabokov wasn't making a parody of himself here and denigrating it openly by naming himself Humbert Humbert. I think realistic conclusions are often better than overly-dramatic or contrived ones to be honest. I've done that myself and in the same genre, but if Nabokov had to submit Lolita today to the grinder of New York literary acceptance, the world would probably be minus one book. ... ... A Literary Dichotomy I've never been so impressed--yet so repulsed--by a piece of literature in all my days until I finally picked up this Vintage International edition of Vladimir Nabokov's disturbing novel, LOLITA. Because the story has become part of our cultural lexicon, we're all familiar with Nabokov's sordid tale of hapless Humbert Humbert's personal destruction because of his unflinching love for the conniving, manipulative, pubescent Dolly Haze (his Lolita). Accordingly, there are parts of this narrative that literally made my skin crawl. But the writing. . . The writing is brilliant, darkly and fatalistically humorous, and flawless. All the more extraordinary to Nabokov's flowing prose is the very real fact English was not the author's first--or even second--language, but his tertiary endeavor. At the present I am attempting to learn Espanol; it is difficult at best to master a second language, so Nabokov's English fluidity two languages removed from his Russian mother tongue is all the more impressive. The writing is sweeping and engaging and extremely emotional; over and over, I found myself rereading certain passages and paragraphs, out loud, because I was so struck by Nabokov's dynamic symmetry. Again, brilliant, flawless, writing. And again, this story is certainly not for the faint of heart, and you, as the reader, will be deeply disturbed by the problematic chain of events that take place through the pages of this novel. In many ways, this book very much reminds me of Malcolm Lowry's 'Under the Volcano': brilliantly written, horrific story. And just like Lowry's masterpiece, I have no intention of ever reading Nabokov's LOLITA again; the literary dichotomy is complete. --D. Mikels, Author, The Reckoning
The Gift
 List Price: Price: $10.88 You Save: $5.12 (32%) Product Details
DescriptionThe Gift is the last of the novels Nabokov wrote in his native Russian and the crowning achievement of that period in his literary career. It is also his ode to Russian literature, evoking the works of Pushkin, Gogol, and others in the course of its narrative: the story of Fyodor Godunov-Cherdyntsev, an impoverished émigré poet living in Berlin, who dreams of the book he will someday write--a book very much like The Gift itself.For most of his life, Vladimir Nabokov was quite literally a man without a country. It's a small irony, then, that his career falls so neatly into national phases: Russian, German, French, and American, plus the protracted coda he spend in a Swiss luxury hotel during his final decade. The Gift, which he wrote between 1935 and 1937 in Berlin, is the grand summation of his second phase. It describes, for starters, the sentimental education of a young Russian writer, Fyodor Godunov-Cherdyntsev. This hyphenated creation has more than a few things in common with the author, despite Nabokov's vehement denial in the novel's foreword. Still, only a nitwit would read The Gift for its autobiographical revelations. What this early masterpiece does offer is a wealth of lyrical, witty, heartbreaking prose, beautifully translated from the Russian by Michael Scammell (with an assist from Nabokov himself). Who else would note the way a street rises "at a barely perceptible angle, beginning with a post office and ending with a church, like an epistolary novel"? Who else has ever administered the satirical shiv to his characters with such deadly, almost affectionate aplomb? Shirin himself was a thickset man with a reddish crew cut, always badly shaved and wearing large spectacles behind which, as in two aquariums, swam two tiny, transparent eyes--which were completely impervious to visual impressions. He was blind like Milton, deaf like Beethoven, and a blockhead to boot.Of course, only a fraction of The Gift is taken up with this sort of demolition derby. Fyodor's romance with Zina, for example, occasions the most ardent prose of Nabokov's career: "And not only was Zina cleverly and elegantly made to measure for him by a very painstaking fate, but both of them, forming a single shadow, were made to the measure of something not quite comprehensible, but wonderful and benevolent and continuously surrounding them." (Shades of Volodya and Véra? Only the deceased husband and wife, and perhaps Stacy Schiff, know for sure.) At the same time, The Gift is a brilliant, mesmerizing riff on the history of Russian literature, with elaborate bouquets tossed to Pushkin and Gogol. There's also a hilarious yet somehow tender evisceration of the do-gooding polemicist Nikolai Chernyshevski--which was suppressed, in fact, when the novel was originally serialized by a Russian émigré magazine. As should be clear by now, The Gift defies any attempt at quick-and-dirty summary. But the book plays the most pleasurable kind of havoc with our stuffy notions of narrative structure and linguistic protocol. And as Nabokov repeatedly wraps the reader's consciousness around his little finger, he never holds back on that ultimate literary gift: pleasure. --James Marcus Customer ReviewsMight be good if you're a Russian Lit. scholar.Thus far I've read all but maybe 2 or 3 of Nabokov's novels. This is the first one that I've quit reading. The first half is OK. There's actually a story. Then, suddenly, without warning, you're thrust into (I'm guessing) the main character's work about some Russian writer, who may or may not be an actual writer for all I know. From about the half-way mark, to where I quit (about page 240 out of 300+), it's all literary/poetry criticism, references to countless Russian authors, various philosophers, etc. It's like a boring dream where you drag on and on from boring meaningless sequence to boring meaningless sequence, always wondering if it's the narrative of the main character's book, or Nabakov. This was just too much. It might be fine if you're a Russian literary historian, but for regular folks, I just can't recommend this one. I gave it 2 stars because it's Nabokov, but only for those precious few good sequences in the first half of the book. Prose, Fiction At Its Best "Among the best prose stylists of our century..." goes the complement to Nabokov's fiction. You know what, he is still among the best prose stylists in this century, the 21st. A must read. Yea that sounds hackyneed by now. Too bad it has been wasted on less writers. Read this book. Don't buy into snobby readers advice, even Nabokov's own advice, so when you find yourself wanting to skip a few parts in the beginning do it... You'll come back to the very first sentence and reread ("all readers should be re-readers..." up until the point that made you say wow. A beautiful gift. Nabokov, in his foreword, states that The Gift "is the last novel I wrote, or ever shall write, in Russian. Whether the author knew this as a certainty when he was writing this novel or if the conscious decision to eschew his native language for future literary endeavors came later, he, nevertheless, produced what would be his most "Russian" work. The beginning of the novel is a tip of the hat to Gogol's Dead Souls while the last paragraph is his homage to Pushkin's Eugene Onegin; and throughout the book there are references to Tolstoy, Turgenev, Dostoevsky (deridingly) and the literary favorite of Lenin, Nikolay Chernyshevski. Now, before the prospective reader throws up their hands and bemoans a lack of background in Russian literature for an excuse not to read this book, be assured. This is one of Nabokov's most uplifting novels and is essentially a love story; that it contains some of the author's best prose (in either Russian or English) only adds to the reading pleasure. And although there are obvious influences from Proust and Joyce (the circular format of the Chernyshevski chapter, for example), this is not, as Amazon reviewer David K. O'Hara remarked, "bloody Finnegan's Wake." The Gift is the story of Fyodor Gudunov-Cherdyntsev, an emigre writer living in Berlin, and represents Nabokov's contribution to the "portrait of the artist" literary genre. In most of the works in this category much is said regarding the artist's angst, inspiration and triumphs but very little of the artist's actual writings are given for the reader's consideration. Not so with this book - the reader has the actual texts of the works at hand. Thus, we are able to read Fyodor's first published book of poetry (as well as the imagined critical responses) concerning his memories of life in Russia before the Revolution; an unpublished biography of his father, a famous naturalist, and his adventures in Asia as he undertakes expeditions to describe the fauna and flora of exotic lands, seemingly oblivious of the political upheaval taking place back home in Russia -- this section of the novel contains some of Nabokov's most beautiful writing. Finally, in an attempt to deal with what he sees as the mediocrity of Soviet letters and the stagnation of the emigre literary scene, Fyodor sets out to write a biography of the great pragmatist, confused socialist, and almost unreadable author, Nikolay Chernyshevski. That Chernyshevski was a particular favorite of Lenin and exerted enough influence that he was regarded as one of the "intellectual" catalysts for Lenin's activism and the subsequent Bolshevik revolution (and the reason, in the end, for Fyodor's emigre status) only made him grist for Fyodor's sardonic talents. Although Nabokov enjoys getting into the head of his emigre protagonist, he is too shrewd a writer to simply give his readers a word by word transcription of Fyodor's literary efforts. Woven through the novel and connecting the literary efforts of Fyodor is the story of his love affair with Zina Mertz, a fellow emigre with whom he strikes up a clandestine relationship. She makes her appearance halfway through the novel (Fyodor hears her flush the toilet in the rooming house they share), but the careful reader will discover that she has been on the periphery of Fyodor's world from the first chapter. Several times they are almost brought together but some twist of fate keeps them in their separate orbits. It is only as Fyodor grows as an artist that he is ready for a relationship with Zina and the sharing of his emotions and intellect with her. It is through his love for Zina that Fyodor has the determination to re-examine his previous attempt at his biography of his father and, in so doing, sees the great book that was waiting for him to write: a book documenting his literary achievements and his love for Zina, a book which would be a gift in appreciation of all that life had granted him -- this very book that the reader holds in his hands. Nabokov almost always discourages any attempts to see himself in the roles of the characters he invents, to "identify the designer with the design." But while Fyodor Godunov-Cherdyntsev might not be a manifestation of Nabokov, there is a similarity in the idea of this novel as a gift. Just a Fyodor offered his gift to Zina for the happiness she brought into his life, so did Nabokov dedicate The Gift to his wife, Vera, as a means of thankfulness that their marriage had survived a rocky period. Nabokov's Gift; Is it worth the elegant prose? Nobokov's The Gift is an interesting work. I am unsure whether it is due to the haste with which I read it, or the nature of the book itself, but I found that while some sections were enticing, not only in style, but also in content, entire sections seemed unrelated and uninteresting. I frequently found myself engaged in the action, but often found myself unable to recall what I had just been reading for the previous 40 pages. While I enjoyed many sections, this ebb and flow made it difficult for me to concentrate on the full picture and I sometimes found myself frustrated with reading. Nabokov's prose however was always beautiful, regardless of my feelings toward the plot elements. Even in those sections entirely devoid of other interest, I always found the prose captivating. Thus there are innumerable quotable passages, each of which glides smoothly across the tongue or through the ear. It is this ability with prose which made the seemingly mundane life of a butterfly collector come alive with the adventurous nature of many heroic explorers. The times where Fyodor recalls his father and his expeditions are undoubtedly my favorite part of the novel, they felt most personal and realistic, while other portions felt dry and rather uninteresting. I found the first fifty pages especially dry, they read more like a book report or litererary analysis than a novel, continually interspersed with excerpts from his poetry which were then discussed for their merit in capturing or not capturing the desired sentiment. The following story of the boy who died, and the mother eager to speak with Fyodor about it, added interest and a more human aspect. While he seemed cold and removed, it is very easy to associate with his character, while it always feels fulfilling to help another person through difficult times, it often becomes burdensome and even boring when a tape recorder could easily have taken his place. It is quite possible that a second reading would be beneficial, that it would make many of the connections that I have missed, but for now, I am more inclined to read other works of a less tedious nature. For me, The Gift is an exercise in How prose means rather than What it means. The Gift To be honest, this is one of the hardest books that I have ever read. While it is impossible to deny the genius of Nabokov, it is a genius that exalts itself at the expense of everyone else. The entire time that I was reading the book, I felt that I would never be able to match Nabokov intellectually on any level. Every time that I felt I was beginning to understand what he was trying to convey, something would shift, and I would again be lost. I enjoyed the book, however, and I would recommend it to others, on the basis of its incredible use of language. The Gift has a lyrical quality to it that allows the novel to stand independently of its ideas at times. One is tempted to read it just to hear the way the words flow. It is an immensely frustrating book to read, but in the end it is well worth it. Nabokov Vladimir News
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Vladimir Nabokov - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Vladimir Nabokov
Nabokov - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Vladimir Nabokov: Biography from Answers.com
Vladimir Nabokov - Wikiquote |
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New York TimesTwice-Told Tales: Displaced in AmericaPartly because of his émigré origins and Slavic background — his father, an engineer, is of Ukrainian descent and his mother, an accountant, is Serbian — Mr. Hemon is often compared to Vladimir Nabokov. He readily acknowledges the influence, Love and Obstacles by Alexsandar Hemon
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