This week’s (or maybe last week’s?) New Yorker contains a previously unpublished story by my favorite author, Vladimir Nabokov. The story is pretty remarkable for an unpublished work, and it makes me think that perhaps Nabokov was incapable of writing anything bad. The ghostly undertones of the story seem incredibly appropriate in light of the somewhat recent events surrounding Nabokov’s last, unfinished work, “The Original of Laura”.
The story is as follows: V.N. decided that his last book was not quite finished and requested that his wife burn it. If I remember correctly, she didn’t have the heart to do it. After all, Vera is the one who once prevented our famously picky author from burning a manuscript of Lolita. Upon her death, the onus was passed to V.N.’s son, Dmitri, now the Nabokov with the power to publish or burn the manuscript. Everyone weighed in, from Brian Boyd, the foremost Nabokovian scholar (and this is a group that takes themselves very seriously), to John Banville and even Tom Stoppard (who, as you might remember, is very responsible for both Brazil AND Rosencrantz and Gildenstern are Dead). Burn it! Some say. Save it! Say others. Some suggest that we keep it and make it available only to scholars.
Can we forget that he himself almost burned Lolita? On one hand, we might respect his wishes not to have an incomplete work published. On the other, some call it his finest work. Remember, he almost burned Lolita.
According to the Slate article — and its copious linking — Dmitri has made a decision. The decision has made in light of an imagined conversation with his father’s ghost. How appropriate! Nabokov’s last publication is accompanied by literary intrigue and a ghost story. What could be more appropriate for an author who places his own person into his stories than to become one of his stories posthumously? With a rich history of stories about the influence of the dead upon the living (Pale Fire; “The Weird Sisters”; Speak, Memory; even Lolita), Nabokov’s story could not have been resolved in a better manner.
I believe the novel will be even better for its circumstances; it will be seen as his last masterpiece, the final enrichment of his already complex and wonderful mythology. This is the last chapter in the marriage of a man with his own myth. Now we see how completely his life and death have intertwined with his stories.
Reading the first essay — the customary “note from the editor”, done in a slightly more editorial manner by Sven — in the recent issue of AGNI, (full disclosure: I am an editorial assistant at this particular magazine) I noticed that Sven had seen something in Cormac McCarthy that I had seen in my favorite author, Vladimir Nabokov. In relating his experience watching a youtube video of McCarthy speaking to Oprah, he explains that he wonders why McCarthy seems to lack something of the sturm and drang he expected in the interview. I once noticed this in Nabokov in the one taped interview I am aware of him allowing.
As a side note, I would suggest that you just take a moment to imagine a famously technophobic literary critic watching Oprah interview a reclusive genius on television for her polarizing book club. (more…)
I have always had a special place in my heart for Vladimir Nabokov. The man was smarter than anyone had the right to be: he grew up speaking Russian, French, and English (though he grew up in St. Petersburg, Russian was the last language he learned to speak), he had nearly perfect recall and whats more, he was synaesthetic, a condition in which otherwise normal people experience the blending of two or more senses. Other notable synaesthetes include: Duke Ellington (who blended timbre and color), Thom Yorke (music, color), Richard Feynman (colored alphabet), and well, John Mayer. Nabokov’s synaesthesia is not unique, as it is not uncommon for a synaesthete to see letters in color. What makes his gift unique is its coupling with his incredible command of the English language (a command that he has actually called “second-rate”). He calls his gift the gift of “colored hearing”. In describing his alphabet, he states that:
“Passing on to the blue group, there is steely x, thundercloud z, and huckleberry k.” (From his autobiography Speak, Memory)
The picture above is taken from the book Alphabet in Color put out by Gingko press and illustrated by Jean Holabird. (more…)
