It would seem that Nabokov entertains the profound idea that we live under a death sentence.

This sentence, which may be carried out at any time, with or without just cause, by forces far greater than we are as individuals with our limited scope of power and influence.

The book is, of course, absurd in the truest sense of the word. Insofar as it portrays life as essentially beyond our understanding, except within the limited sensory confines of everyday life.

It is a Postmodern (PoMo) classic in the treatment of its themes, and Nabokov transports his readers into a dreamlike existence.

Cincinnatus would feel quite at home with Joseph K. from Kafka and the cast from Beckett. That is, he is a victim of his own inability to understand his life and is trapped in a world far too vast to comprehend with pure reason alone.

Yet within the dream state, a certain logic prevails in the discourse, which lends an air of credibility to the tale. We believe that in some totalitarian state, the fate of Cincinnatus is all too real and was, in fact, inspired by the megalomania of tyrants past in Nabokov's native Russia and elsewhere.

He brings to light the shadows of all the Angst of a convict on death row with his unbelief about his circumstances, his regrets for past lapses and failures, false hope of rescue, and fear of the final indignity and pain.

Yet Cincinnatus ascends the scaffold determined to face his end "By myself," and his redemption seems to be the victory of his will in the final pages of the novel.

The engaging style of Nabokov is well worth noting. He is vivid, intelligent, original, and credible as a narrator. Like Dostoyevsky in "The Idiot," he stays out of the way of his protagonist insofar as we experience his fate through his eyes.

But his fellow characters shape the story line substantially with their own dialogue and actions, driven by credible, all-too-human motives.

At times, Cincinnatus is simply a silent witness, a felon consumed by dread after his conviction of "agnostic turpitude," of which he barely denies and as an Everyman must certainly be guilty, even insofar as it will be the end of him.

Nabokov peppers his narrative with nuance, and his vision focuses upon a sensual reality that is both compelling and engaging. He really knows how to draw you into this dreamlike tale about the absurdity of life.

By now, many of his themes from this novel may seem almost quaint within the PoMo catalogue, but he was a force in defining a movement by virtue of the simplicity and power of his narrative gifts.

My respect for Nabokov has gone up a notch or two after reading this brief book. Although some may not find satisfaction in the close of this tale, it is well worth reading.

Don't fall into the lazy-readers' trap of thinking that Invitation to a Beheading is just some pastiche of Kafka. This was my misconception for the first 70 pages or so. Nabokov claims not to have read The Trial before writing this work, and I am inclined to believe him, given the limited availability of Kafka's text outside of the German language at that time (Nabokov did not read German). But the close kinship these texts have is very apparent at first.

It is not too long, however, before Nabokov's softer "touch" becomes apparent. The protagonist, Cincinnatus, is held captive under what may or may not be a trumped-up charge that really is not a charge at all, or at least not one that has a slippery definition, if any definition at all. Some readers excoriate his lack of emotion, his stupidity, but I felt some deep pity for the man. Again, things are not quite as they appear on the surface. A more careful reading reveals a man who is paralyzed by his fear of execution, but who buffers himself from that fear by probing for the answer to the question "when?". This dissociation of emotion is Cincinnatus' central conceit. But what appears on the surface as a lack of emotion is really a manifestation of his subconscious attempts to stifle the fear of death within him. By asking the question "when?" and receiving no answer, his attempts to know when "his time" will come serve to heighten his fears, rather than ameliorate them at first.

The style throughout is varied. If pinned down to use one word to describe the oeuvre of the work, I would use "dreamlike". In fact, Cincinnatus, who sometimes acts as the directly stream-of-conscious narrator (but only sometimes), himself admits his penchant for dream: "But then I have long since grown accustomed to the thought that what we call dreams is semi-reality, the promise of reality, a foreglimpse and a whiff of it; that is, they contain, in a very vague, diluted state, more genuine reality than our vaunted waking life which, in its turn, is semi-sleep, an evil drowsiness into which penetrate in grotesque disguise the sounds and sights of the real world, flowing beyond the periphery of the mind." This preference for the dream-state is another defense mechanism used by Cincinnatus to push away the angst brought on by his very real situation. Through this intentional dulling of the waking world's reality, Cincinattus shields himself from the lingering background horror of his sentence at first.

But one of the more poignant scenes, for me, a heartbreaking scene, wherein Cecilia C., a woman who may or may not be his actual mother, enters the cell to speak with him, heralds the implosion of his shields, not by crushing his hopes. Not initially. But by giving him hope. Hope here, is the enemy, and ultimately, it opens the abyss of disappointment beneath him. As part of their awkward conversation, he asks "What's the point of all this? Don't you know that one of these days, perhaps tomorrow...". He suddenly noticed the expression in Cecilia C.'s eyes - just for an instant, an instant - but it was as if something real, unquestionable (in this world, where everything was subject to question), had passed through, as if a corner of this horrible life had curled up, and there was a glimpse of the lining. In his mother's gaze, Cincinnatus suddenly saw that ultimate, secure, all-explaining and from-all-protecting spark that he knew how to discern in himself also. What was this spark so piercingly expressing now? It does not mater what - call it horror, or pity... but rather let us say this: the spark proclaimed such a tumult of truth that Cincinnatus's soul could not help leaping for joy. The instant flashed and was gone. Cecilia C. got up, making an incredible little gesture, namely, holding her hands apart with index fingers extended, as if indicating size - the length, say, of a babe... Then she immediately began fussing, picking up from the floor her plump black bag, adjusting the lining of her pocket. "There now," she said, in her former prattling tone, "I've stayed a while and now I'll be going. Eat my candy. I've overstayed. I'll be going, it's time."

The solemnity of this scene contrasts sharply with the tone of bureaucratic silliness that pervades the actions of the government officials throughout. There are too many such instances to mention here. Suffice it to say that the utter ridiculousness of these antagonists are somewhat reminiscent of Toole's Confederacy of Dunces. This is yet more evidence of Nabokov's ability to write in several "voices," startlingly different, yet of a piece. At one point, my reading notes comment on Chapter 8: "Beautiful angst, like Beckett and Calvino conspiring on a stream of consciousness riff of awe with baroque frills" - a contrast to the whiffs of Ubu Roi that I occasionally smelled while reading. Which just goes to show Nabokov's skill in switching from tone to tone in the same novel while maintaining a feeling of wholeness. The man can WRITE! Often, though, I found myself wishing that David Lynch might do the world a favor and offer up a cinematic version of Invitation to a Beheading. He would be one of the few directors who could actually pull it off. Lynch's ability to portray what I will call "timeslips" on the big screen would be needed and tested. For example, imagine who you would film the following, a scene wherein Cincinnatus is escorted to a "farewell visit" with the city officials: "This nocturnal promenade which had promised to be so rich with sad, carefree, singing, murmuring impressions - for what is a recollection, if not the soul of an impression? - proved in reality to be vague and insignificant and flashed by so quickly as happens only amid very familiar surroundings, in the dark, when the varicolored fractions of day are replaced by the integers of night."

Many have called this novel a work of existentialism. And this is not incorrect. However, it is not a nihilistic work. What starts out floundering in captivity and darkness, with an increasing fear of inevitable doom billowing up into storm clouds in the background, resolves (a word you will rarely hear being used to describe a work of existentialist literature) into a manifesto of self-sufficiency ("By myself," becomes Cincinnatus's refrain) and a profound statement on grasping one's own destiny, embracing it, and stepping off into the unknown, with confidence and surety of purpose, with full freedom of being one's self at last.

In his Foreword, Nabokov firmly denied having read Kafka before penning this novel. However, anyone who has perused both this work and Kafka's "The Trial" cannot help but observe some striking similarities. Both narratives involve a condemned man, accused of an ambiguous crime, and ultimately executed for it. Moreover, before their deaths at the hands of their tormentors, there are numerous strange, almost dream-like occurrences.

Which one is superior? Without a doubt, Kafka's. His work exhibits a clear direction and consistency, while Nabokov's seems as if he is merely flaunting his mastery of descriptive prose and his ability to conjure up apparitions and nightmares. It is somewhat like a pointless movie that relies solely on an abundance of special effects.

Overall, while Nabokov's writing may be impressive in its own right, Kafka's "The Trial" stands as a more profound and cohesive work of literature.

Play, Dreams, And Creativity In An Early Nabokov Novel

While deeply engrossed in a long and arduous non-fiction study by the sociologist of religion Robert Bellah, I took a break to read a novel. The one I chose, Nabokov's "Invitation to a Beheading," though shorter, was equally thought-provoking and perhaps even more enigmatic than Bellah's remarkable work. Nabokov (1899 -- 1979) penned this novel in Russian early in his career, in 1935, several years before migrating to the United States.

Nabokov's novel recounts the tale of a 30-year-old man, Cincinnatus C. Allusions play a significant role here. Cincinnatus was a Roman statesman who triumphed over an invasion and then returned to his farm, declining an offer of kingship. George Washington is sometimes referred to as the American Cincinnatus. There are other crucial allusions in Nabokov's novel, including one to Socrates. Cincinnatus C. is arrested and sentenced to death by beheading for the strange, unexplained crime of "gnostic turpitude." The majority of the novel is set in prison over a period of weeks as Cincinnatus awaits his execution.

The reader gradually gets to know Cincinnatus through his own words and those of the narrator, which often blend together. We also learn about Cincinnatus' life in the jail, surrounded by shadowy figures such as the guard, the prison director, the director's daughter, a sole fellow-prisoner, a librarian, and other characters. Cincinnatus had led a lonely and frustrated life as a would-be writer. Raised as an orphan, repeatedly cuckolded by his wife, he always felt like a loner, misunderstood and neglected.

While in prison, Cincinnatus is fixated on learning the day of his execution. He desires to put his thoughts on paper but claims he is reluctant to make the effort if his work is disrupted by his beheading. Part of the book consists of bizarre, surrealistic events during his incarceration, while other parts feature Cincinnatus'/the narrator's brilliant, full observations and passionate writing. There are long, beautiful yet ranting passages of his feelings and observations that mark him as an astonishing writer.

The novel prompts thought and admits of multiple interpretations. Various political interpretations could be proposed, broadly focusing on the individual and his relationship to an allegedly cruel, totalitarian, or shallow society. However, such themes have become trite and commonplace and do not do justice to this book. I found the book to be more internalized and probably dream-like. Cincinnatus speaks of himself throughout as having a "double," and many of his strongest and longest reflections in the book are about the relationship between reality and dreams. The city in which the story is set and the characters bear little resemblance to any society, regardless of how barbaric. To me, the story is about an individual coming to terms with his own mortality and with his own creativity - his need to be an artist and express himself even though most others will fail to understand - and presenting it in a story. In the dreamlike, unreal sequences of the story, Cincinnatus attains independence and a sense of freedom in senseless circumstances.

The book by Robert Bellah mentioned at the beginning of this review helped prepare me for "Invitation to a Beheading." A major theme of that book was the importance of play in human life rather than just work to earn a living. Art and writing are a form of "serious play" that illuminate one's life. Nabokov's book is playful in tone and, like play, should not be forced but should be enjoyed. I found this book highly suggestive about the nature of freedom and of a creative life.

Robin Friedman

Nabokov's wordplay is truly a thing of wonder, sparking with wit and brilliance! His vivid imagination and boundless creativity are what set his writing apart and make it truly exceptional. After putting down the book, one can't help but be left in a state of deep thought. What on earth is he trying to convey to us? I find great joy in piecing together all the intricate threads to solve this literary puzzle.

You may arrive at a different conclusion than I do. In my opinion, he is telling us that conformity has the power to扼杀 life. True freedom is discovered when we have the courage to step outside the boundaries of the norm and break free from the constrictions that society places upon us. We should speak out, say what we think, and fight for our beliefs!

The audiobook, narrated by Stefan Rudnicki, is an absolute delight. He has a remarkable ability to bring a smile to your face. For instance, he expertly captures the way a French person might mispronounce a word. He knows exactly which words to emphasize, where to hesitate, and when to pause. His enunciation is clear and his words are easy to hear. I would rate his audio narration four stars, perhaps it even deserves five. His narration is like the perfect icing on a delicious cake.

The absurdity of life is mirrored in the absurdity that is presented at the end of the book. At first, this annoyed me, then it confused me, but eventually, I came to understand what Nabokov was trying to say to us.

**************

*Lolita 5 stars

*Ada, or Ardor: A Family Chronicle 5 stars

*Speak, Memory 5 stars

*Mary 4 stars

*Laughter in the Dark 4 stars

*Glory 4 stars

*The Real Life of Sebastian Knight 4 stars

*The Luzhin Defense 4 stars

*Invitation to a Beheading 4 stars

*The Gift 3 stars

*King, Queen, Knave 3 stars

*Bend Sinister 3 stars

*Pale Fire 2 stars

*Pnin 1 star

*Despair 1 star

*Transparent Things 1 star

Reading this, I couldn't help but continuously think of something Albert Camus wrote in 'Reflections on the Guillotine':

"Capital punishment is the most premeditated of murders, to which no criminal’s deed, however calculated, can be compared. For there to be an equivalency, the death penalty would have to punish a criminal who had warned his victim of the date on which he would inflict a horrible death on him and who, from that moment onward, had confined him at his mercy for months. Such a monster is not to be encountered in private life."

The prose in this work is truly marvelous and elegant, just as one would expect from Nabokov. I was quite surprised by the surrealism of the story. Cincinnatus C. is condemned to death yet is constantly kept in the dark about when the execution will occur. In the meantime, numerous surreal and Kafkaesque situations take place. I don't want to spoil anything, so I'll just leave it at that.

It is stated on the book's Wikipedia site that, "While Nabokov stated in an interview that of all his novels he held the greatest affection for Lolita, it was Invitation to a Beheading that he held in the greatest esteem." I can understand why he would say that. This book is second only to The Luzhin Defense for me, though.

(I was also extremely happy to see that Nabokov once again referenced chess. So far, I believe he has mentioned chess in every single book I've read by him: Pale Fire ("And now what shall I do? My knight is pinned."), Pnin, and, obviously, The Luzhin Defense.)

Invito a una decapitazione is one of those books that leaves room for interpretation, it is open-ended. Let's come to the "few" facts: Cincinnatus, the protagonist, is sentenced to death by decapitation. The accusation is surreal. Cincinnatus' guilt is being opaque, not being transparent as he should be and as the rest of the citizens are. Cincinnatus is imprisoned in a fortress, where he is visited by strange characters. Many of them are creepy, paradoxical and incoherent.

In the book, everything is a farce. There is nothing logical, realistic or linear. The forms of the characters and the places are changeable, unclear and illogical. Everything that surrounds the protagonist is false, constructed, a product of an hallucination. We know very little about this world. We know that everyone must be transparent, be born and live like that, have no secrets, hide nothing from others. But everyone is irreparably constructed, not very authentic. The only one who retains an appearance of humanity seems to be Cincinnatus, who is for no reason the one who will be executed. Is it a great metaphor for our condition? A denunciation of totalitarian regimes? Of censorship? The message is not clear. The book gets lost in paragraphs that make no sense and the writing at times is very slow, dense. The style, although masterful, seemed heavy to me. A sewn-together journey that I admit I am happy to have completed.

When I read "Reading Lolita in Tehran", which was written by a university literature professor, in addition to telling us about her situation due to the religious revolution in Iran, she also tells how the books she includes in her literature courses allow us to understand the reality and question it. Among the many books she recommends, I noted this one.

The story begins when the protagonist has been sentenced to be beheaded for a crime about which we don't know much, only that it is for something reproachable. Thus imprisoned and visited by a series of other characters, he awaits uncertainly when his life will end. It has some very comical, absurd, pathetic passages and in between some poetic, almost lyrical passages. What a beautiful use of language. One can identify with this man facing the end of his life.

This book offers a unique perspective on life and death, as well as on the power of literature to shape our understanding of the world. It makes us think about the choices we make and the consequences they bring. It also shows us how even in the most dire circumstances, there can be moments of beauty and hope.

Overall, "Reading Lolita in Tehran" is a thought-provoking and engaging read that I would highly recommend to anyone interested in literature, history, or human nature.

If I want to describe the book with the fewest words, the invitation to the coronation is a ceremony, full of precise descriptions that create extremely vivid images, without a logical sequence that you have to follow, full of absurd events, and of course, unpleasant.

My experience of reading this book was extremely unpleasant, like waiting for a death that you know will happen but the time is unknown. Like life. A life where on that night you are like no one else, you are expelled, and finally erased.

The very long time I spent reading it, I really couldn't easily face more than ten pages of it. I was Cincinnatus, and line by line, this book reminded me of that.

This book has two very important elements. We never understand why Cincinnatus has to die, and we don't understand who this time belongs to. Perhaps this difference from the others is what he has to repent for and find salvation, but clearly this is not Cincinnatus but the others who are deeply wrong, and this is what annoyed me when I read it.

But this annoyance was accompanied by such a quality that I enjoyed it. When Cincinnatus sat on the grass by the moat next to the castle, I was sure that I enjoyed all of it. When he first saw the blade in his box, when he threw away the cell that was no longer needed.

I read the book with the translation of Ladon Kazemi. Since the experience of reading the book itself was special for me, I can't make a judgment about it, but I must also read the English translation to have a better view of the book itself because now I have very confused feelings about it.

An Invitation to Disappointment

I embarked on the journey of reading Vladimir Nabokov's "An Invitation to a Beheading" with unbridled excitement. The introduction was truly captivating. Cincinnatus C., a man sentenced to death, existing in a strange and detached world - it seemed like a recipe for an enthralling read. How could one not be intrigued?

However, the initial allure soon dissipated, and what followed was a convoluted mess. The middle section was a tiresome slog, bombarding the reader with an incessant stream of unnecessary details that appeared to be deliberately inserted to make the book seem more pretentious. To be fair, Nabokov's prose does have its moments of brilliance, and there were indeed some thought-provoking passages. But on the whole, reading this book felt like being imprisoned in a pretentious art exhibition. It was all about style and lacked substantial depth, leaving me with an overwhelming desire to shout in frustration.

Just recently, we were discussing how some individuals gaslight others into believing that they are the problem, not the ones doing the gaslighting. This book does precisely that! It starts off well, and the ending is also decent, leading you to think, "Maybe it was me. Maybe I didn't pay close enough attention. Maybe I... maybe I... maybe I..."

I have read my fair share of uninteresting books, and that has never been a "major" issue for me. But I was completely unprepared to despise this book to such an extent. Perhaps my perception would have been different if I had read it at another time. Maybe I would have liked it if I had chosen to read something else by Nabokov. Quizás, quizás, quizás.

This is a book about a guy who has been sentenced to death. He is sitting in a cell, waiting for the execution of the sentence and gradually going crazy. That's it. But nothing more is needed.

***

Upd 2024: This book is about many things, but not about what is written above. In general, it's about how a person is an angel (a pearl), imprisoned in a meat sack (the bloody fat of a shark), and how hard it is to live for the one who feels this angel within and whose body annoys those around because of how that angel shines through it.

Actually, yes, it is for this that the main character is sentenced to death, but the psychology of a real inmate has little to do with what is happening. Maybe just perceive this as a story about derealization. But it's not about that.

It's hard not to notice how Cincinnati is always called not man enough, and at the end, Monsieur Pierre starts to behave towards him openly as towards a woman. On the one hand, I think that on the level of customs and traditions, this is yet another form of humiliation, but on the other hand, I remembered that in the Catholic tradition, the soul is sexless, but in the requiem, for example, women sing it, that is, it is rather a bit feminine than masculine. An interesting thought.

“I suppose the pain of parting will be red and loud.” This line sets a certain tone, but the novel it comes from, "Invitation to a Beheading," is perhaps not as widely read as Lolita. Nabokov himself held the greatest esteem for it, despite his affection for Lolita. The opening sentence, "In accordance with the law the death sentence was announced to Cincinnatus C. in a whisper," immediately grabs the reader's attention. The quotes also introduce elements like the color red, loudness, and secrecy, giving a feel of Soviet Russia, though Nabokov didn't want that association. Cincinnatus' crime of "gnostical turpitude," essentially being difficult to know, was a crime in Soviet Russia where privacy was non-existent. He is different, conscious of his own depths, and thus accused, found guilty, and sentenced to execution. The people's reaction to his sentence is appalling, treating it with ease and lack of seriousness. Cincinnatus, an outsider, looks for escape in a world that smacks of Kafka's alienation, yet there is no cause-and-effect relationship as Nabokov hadn't heard of Kafka when writing this. People who are different are often persecuted, and Cincinnatus feels this keenly. He tries to make sense of the world around him but fails as he is surrounded by shallow people who are more like puppets. In the end, he turns to writing, but even that doesn't console his soul. And then there's the big spoiler - the twist that suggests Cincinnatus was a willing participant in his own execution, something for those who feel persecuted for being different to think about.

  
   

    “I suppose the pain of parting will be red and loud.”

  

Okay not better than Lolita, but I don't know why it isn't Nabokov's second most read novel here. He himself said that while he held the greatest affection for Lolita, it was Invitation to a Beheading that he held in the greatest esteem. Just check out this for an opening sentence:

  

  "In accordance with the law the death sentence was announced to Cincinnatus C. in a whisper."

  

And there you have in the two quotes the color red, loudness, and secrecy - in short a feel of Soviet Russia. But Nabokov doesn't want you to think of Soviet Russia while reading it. And it is in protogonist, Cincinnatus' crime we discover what it is really about. He was "accused of the most terrible of crimes, gnostical turpitude, so rare and so unutterable that it was necessary to use circumlocutions like “impenetrability,” “opacity,” “occlusion” - the crime, in brief of being someone difficult to know. That could a crime in Soviet Russia too, which wanted the public and private life to be same, which effectively means no privacy, no secrets etc.



But C, is not shallow like others. He is conscious of depths in himself that he himself hasn't penetrated. And so. this crime, that is, the lack of transparency, was to show up sooner or later. He is accused, found guilty, and an execution is ordered. The sentence is welcomed with smiles, masses seem to derive a kind of sadistic pleasure from idea of an execution. The ease and lack of seruousness with which people treat him and his sentence is appaling.



In such a world, C. finds himself, an outsider, looking for escape. Smacks of Kafka's alienated characters? Is but there is no cause-and-effect relationship. Apparently, Nabokov hadn't heard of him when he wrote it.



It is hardly saying anything new that people who are different (hardly a virtue in itself, but not a vice either), who don't have that false virtue of being normal, the golden mean of mediocrity in all qualities are often persecuted by society in all parts of the world - and even where they are not they do always feel persecuted -

  

  "I am here through an error—not in this prison, specifically—but in this whole terrible, striped world; a world which seems not a bad example of amateur craftsmanship, but is in reality calamity, horror, madness, error—and look, the curio slays the tourist, the gigantic carved bear brings its wooden mallet down upon me. "

  

The images of golden cage and a spider devouring its prey add to this atmosphere where feeling of being unnessarily persecuted gathers strength. And he tries hard, hard to make sense of this world around him

  

  "Involuntarily yielding to the temptation of logical development, involuntarily (be careful, Cincinnatus!) forging into a chain all the things that were quite harmless as long as they remained unlinked, he inspired the meaningless with meaning and the lifeless with life."

  

But it is useless, all his attempts to make himself understood by these shallow people (or at least, shallow to him) fail:

  

  "I myself picture all this so clearly, but you are not I, and therein lies the irreparable calamity."

  

since he is surrounded by people who are more puppets than human beings - full of acting and role plays.

  

  “I am surrounded by some sort of wretched specters, not by people. They torment me as can torment only senseless visions, bad dreams, dregs of delirium, the drivel of nightmares and everything that passes down here for real life.”

  

Yes, there seems to be a superiority complex about him but that is an understandable reaction in someone who hasn't met a like minded soul in his life - it is difficult tobe always understanding when no one understands you. There is nothing for him but to scorn inwardly as his prison mate charges into generally admired eloquence saying cliche things with cliche phrases or his executioner who is a sort of celebrity.



And so, C. turns to the last resort of all those misunderstood souls - writing

  

  "I am chained to this table like a cup to a drinking fountain, and will not rise till I have said what I want. I repeat (gathering new momentum in the rhythm of repetitive incantations), I repeat: there is something I know, there is something I know, there is something … When still, a child, living still in a canary-yellow, large, cold house where they were preparing me and hundreds of other children for secure nonexistence as adult dummies, into which all my coevals turned without effort or pain; already then, in those accursed days, amid rag books and brightly painted school materials and soul-chilling drafts, I knew without knowing, I knew without wonder, I knew as one knows oneself, I knew what it is impossible to know—and, I would say, I knew it even more clearly than I do now. "

  

but even that doesn't console his soul:

  

  "The thought, when written down, becomes less oppressive, but some thoughts are like a cancerous tumor: you express is, you excise it, and it grows back worse than before.”


  “...All my best words are deserters and do not answer the trumpet call, and the remainder are cripples.”

  

BIG SPOILER AHEAD READER DISCRESTION IS ADVISED



The twist in the end suggests that C. was a willing participitant of his own execution - there is something to think about for those who find themselves presecuted by the world for being different.