This week’s (or maybe last week’s?) New Yorker contains a previously unpublished story by my favorite author, Vladimir Nabokov. The story is pretty remarkable for an unpublished work, and it makes me think that perhaps Nabokov was incapable of writing anything bad.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.
