**Invitation to a Beheading**
Vladimir Nabokov
Ahmad Khazaei
Published by Qatrah

Sinews is a strange convict who has been imprisoned for a mysterious reason. He is in a strange prison with strange inmates and a strange warden. Sinews has a problem in that his back is not transparent but opaque, he is impervious, and he also has dreams that have nothing to do with the outside world, which is the reason for his conviction. A sentence has been issued for him, which is beheading, but the time for his beheading has not yet been determined. The book, The Last Days of Sinews, describes his life in anticipation of the day of the beheading ceremony.

Vladimir Nabokov tells a very complex, extremely captivating, and to a large extent, elusive story in this work. The story can have many meanings, and the many interpretations written about it are proof of this fact. The story is about insanity and madness, and even all the characters in the story are from different perspectives. Sinews has a Latin name, and his cellmate is an old Frenchman. The warden also appears to be Malay, and all the books that the librarian lends him are in Arabic. Time is fixed in this work. There is no hour hand in the prison. There is only one-tenth of an hour, and although the hour hand moves on it, after a while, it erases the old hour hand and places a new one in a new place. The empty and strange space of the work, as well as its very captivating prose, which is accompanied by a very good translation by Ahmad Khazaei, is reminiscent of Kafka at his best. The novel is not a critique of a particular form of government, and Nabokov has no intention of revealing the government or politically criticizing a particular group. His novel is actually a critique and examination of two ideas, the individualistic, enlightened, and creative idea against the totalitarian, all-encompassing, and primitive idea that follows it. Sinews (interestingly, his name is reminiscent of the word "sin" in English, which means sin) is a human being who, unlike the hero of the novel The Trial, has accepted that he is a sinner from birth (his name is evidence of this) but still wants to be an individual and preserve his individuality until the moment of his death.

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Nabokov was one of the greatest writers of the 20th century, a Muslim marvel in the world of literature who easily wrote in three languages, English, Russian, and French. Interestingly, his English-language works are considered very difficult even in English literature. Although this novel is not one of the best novels of this master of Islamic literature (and also a very popular writer on this side), (Nabokov's important novels are four novels: Lolita, The Gift, Pale Fire, and Ada. Unfortunately, due to the difficulty of the prose of these works in translating them into Persian and also the sometimes difficult content in the Islamic system, they have either not been translated yet or have not been well translated), it is considered one of the best novels of Russian and also English literature (since it was written in both languages) in the 20th century.

I would compare reading this book to analyzing a surrealist painting. Just as there can be numerous possible explanations for what is happening in the painting (or novel), the motives behind it, and what can be learned, if anything at all.

Cincinnatus, the protagonist, is convicted of a vague crime, with the penalty being death, but at an unspecified date. Is he dreaming? Has he hallucinated the entire incident? There is definitely an element of the absurd in the novel, and in some ways, I must compare it to The Trial. However, while Kafka's work focuses on the absurdity of trying to change one's fate while moving forward stoically, Nabokov's novel reads more like a fever dream.

Time seems to pass in the novel, but not in the conventional way. Certainly, days pass, but the real driver of time, the date of his beheading, is hinted at through subtler means, such as the insects in his room being devoured by the spider, culminating in the beautiful moth, the length of Cincinnatus' pencil, and the amount of paper he has left to write on.

Time also passes closer to his beheading through the increasing psychological tortures he endures; they become more intense as his end approaches. It reminded me of the torture of Tantalus, where both food and drink seem within reach but elude him when he reaches for them. This happened to Cincinnatus when each time the hope of escape, hope, or epiphany dangled before him only to be shattered into despair.

What was Cincinnatus' crime? In my opinion, if the whole scenario were not a hallucination or dream, it would be his inability or unwillingness to fit into society.

The ending made me question whether the prison, the crime, the sentence, and even the characters were real. The fortress begins to collapse and turn into a labyrinth, Cincinnatus realizes the absurdity of his situation, refuses to accept it, and walks away as the world he was trapped in shrinks, fades away, and vanishes, as he travels towards voices he imagines to be like-minded with himself. Can an ending be more surreal than that? I don't know if I have read one at this point in my life.

I'm sure there was much more nuance and imagery in this book that I failed to notice or don't feel I have the time or energy to address, such as the absurdity of the executioner getting to know and purportedly love the one he is going to execute. Perhaps Nabokov was暗示 that being the object of someone's affection can itself be a prison? I don't feel I have the authority to say. In any case, the book is very thought-provoking.

4/5

The difference between perusing everything from a lambda literary return and this book is as vast as that between a bike ride on a cycle path and an ascent in the high mountains. There is the almost painful sensation of lacking oxygen and the intoxicating feeling of breathing in the content of great purity.

Invitation to a Beheading vividly depicts the last moments of a condemned man and his captivity as seen from his mental space. It is an extraordinary tale where different levels of reality coexist. So many fantastical projections of the captive are embedded within the episodes of primary truth.

This is an impressive reflection on the human condition. It shows the plight of the locked-up man grappling with bureaucracy in what is fundamentally grotesque and absurd. It also portrays the man who knows his imminent death, experiencing a vertiginous reflection when the story dares to turn into a farce to masterfully depict all totalitarian abjections.

The book offers a unique and thought-provoking exploration of the human psyche and the absurdities of life and death. It challenges the reader to consider the nature of reality and the power of the mind in the face of extreme circumstances.

Overall, Invitation to a Beheading is a remarkable work that stands out for its vivid imagery, complex themes, and masterful storytelling. It is a must-read for anyone interested in exploring the darker side of the human experience.

Invitation to a Beheading is a captivating novel penned by the renowned Russian American author, Vladimir Nabokov. It was initially serialized in the Russian émigré magazine, Contemporary Notes (Sovremennye zapiski), from 1935 to 1936. Later, in 1938, it was published in Paris.

The story commences with Cincinnatus C., a thirty-year-old teacher and the protagonist, being sentenced to death by beheading for the rather mysterious crime of "gnostical turpitude" in twenty days' time, although this crucial timescale remains unknown to him. After being escorted back to a "fortress" by the cheerful jailer Rodion, Cincinnatus engages in conversations with his lawyer and even dances with Rodion. Meanwhile, a spider dangles from the ceiling as he inscribes his thoughts on paper.

Throughout the narrative, Cincinnatus persistently inquires of various characters about the date of his execution, yet all his efforts prove fruitless. He is further displeased when he learns from the prison director, Rodrig, that he will be getting a cellmate. Soon enough, Cincinnatus meets Emmie, Rodrig's young daughter, and then reads the rather foolish prisoner's rules etched into the wall, flips through a book catalogue, and is led by Rodrig down the hall to observe his incoming cellmate through a peephole. The story continues to unfold with a series of events that keep the reader on the edge of their seat, eager to discover what will happen next to poor Cincinnatus.

I would have preferred to get to know Cincinnatus & co at the theater. Nabokov writes well.

In fact, Nabokov's works are known for their elegance, complexity, and unique literary style. His ability to create vivid characters and immersive worlds is truly remarkable.

If Cincinnatus & co were brought to the stage, it would offer a whole new dimension to the story. The visual and auditory elements of a theatrical production could enhance the audience's understanding and appreciation of Nabokov's work.

The actors' interpretations of the characters, the set design, the lighting, and the music could all contribute to a more engaging and memorable experience. It would be a chance to see Nabokov's words come to life in a different way.

Moreover, experiencing a play at the theater allows for a shared experience with other people. The collective energy and reactions of the audience can add to the overall atmosphere and make the event even more special.

In conclusion, while reading Nabokov's works is a wonderful experience in itself, getting to know Cincinnatus & co at the theater would be an exciting and enriching alternative.

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. As when you hear during sleep a dreadful insidious tale because a branch is scraping on the pane, or see yourself sinking into snow because your blanket is sliding off.

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.

...the compensation for a death sentence is knowledge of the exact hour when one is to die.

This is a novel about waiting for death. Cinncinatus, its hapless protagonist, is in anguish because he has been condemned to death and he doesn't know precisely when the axe will fall (the predicament we all find ourselves in). It's also about the prisons we confine ourselves in—our existential hells. Cinncinatus' jailors (who, we are told, are everyone) continually tease and torment him. His wife has deceived him with multiple men, his mother conceived him with a stranger who was a tramp, his extended family are a nightmare of vulgarity and banality, and society shuns him at every turn. At the factory, he made grotesque rag dolls of Russian authors. But he has a courageous, clear-sighted double with the ability to free himself from his chains and say and do as he pleases. This double (we all have one, Nabokov informs us—you and me and him over there)—will escape Cinncinatus' fate, and his prison walls and executioner's scaffolding will vanish.

His prison is not metaphorical—it's a real fortress, and there is real prison food, and real sadistic guards who feed him well, dance, joke, and play chess with and practical jokes on him. There is real scrawling on the walls by former prisoners, and a real prison guard's little daughter who promises to save him, and he's had a real jury trial with a real, albeit absurd, verdict (he was sentenced to death for "gnostic turpitude"). So I don't want to give the impression that this novel is only metaphorical and symbolic. But it demonstrates again and again that just as every waking moment contains a corresponding dream, and every present moment a memory, every moment of real or existential imprisonment contains an analogue of creativity and freedom.

Nabokov was irritated that everyone called this book Kafkaesque, not being familiar with Kafka when he wrote it. But he was also irritated that critics continually compared him to a number of other authors. This is an understandable pet peeve, given that he clearly worked every sentence until it was like no other sentence ever penned. And that he combined different kinds of philosophical and literary ideas together through character and precise observation of nature in a way that was thoroughly original. This novel, despite its similar themes and grim whimsy, is not Kafkaesque to me in the sense that the only other works it really reminds me of are Nabokov's own works (Bend Sinister, The Waltz Invention, and some of his short stories). In the end it's a hundred percent Nabokov, and a hundred percent fascinating.

Cincinnati is sentenced to death, and this is certain, just as it is certain that his sentence will be carried out... at an indeterminate moment in the future. It seems that the whole world knows when the execution will take place except the condemned man himself, who lives in the agony of anticipation. During this time, a stream of malicious caricatures pour out in his cell - relatives (of his wife), a boring inmate, a strange peddler. Dreams, memories, and nightmares line up. It's as if this hell has no end.

Nabokov is incredible in the description of hopeless states, but perhaps I prefer his more light-hearted books - "Lolita" is my favorite of his so far.

He has a unique way of using language to create vivid images and complex emotions. His writing style is both beautiful and profound, making his works a joy to read.

Whether it's the tragic story of Cincinnati or the charming world of Lolita, Nabokov's novels always manage to capture the reader's attention and keep them engaged until the very end.

Me - Ahoy, mon vieux! You don't look quite well. I brought you some fresh croissants and a latte, hope you like it.

Cincinnatus : Aye, aye, mon ami, what wind brings you to my humble cell? Let me serve you something. A cockroach, maybe?

Me: Ah...that was in "Papillon". Thanks, maybe later. I am torn by some questions. My heart aches for you. It is evident that Nabokov has a tendency to torment his characters, subjecting them to bizarre twists of fate and oppressive circumstances. How do you feel being caught in the grip of such an elusive writer?

I guess you'd like to take out his naughty Eye, or a lung, or something.

Cincinnatus : Ah, mon pote, you have no idea how often I've pondered these options. Nabokov's literary prowess is undeniable, but it can also be a curse, for some. I am but a mere vessel for his imagination, a character thrust into a world of absurdity, unable to escape his ironclad grip.

Me : It must be disconcerting, being at the mercy of an author who revels in testing the boundaries of reality, I must admit. How has this incessant torment affected you, Nat?

Cincinnatus : Oh, you even ask. It is a perpetual assault on my very being, mate, believe me. Nabo's penchant for blurring the lines between reality and illusion, of subjecting me to the whims of his sick imagination has exhausted me, and left me questioning my whole existence. I feel as though I am suspended in a perpetual state of uncertainty and despair.

Me : Mmm... Do you believe that there is a greater purpose behind Nabo's torment? That perhaps there is a message hidden within the tumultuous journey you're forced to endure?

Cincinnatus :...who the hell knows. It is possible. Perhaps Nabo desires to expose the fragility of human existence, MY existence, after all, damn!! Anyway, I'm relieved thinking that through the agonies he inflicts upon me, he also forces the readers to confront the absurdities of their own lives, to challenge their own perceptions and limitations. From what I see. I am not merely a pawn in this tale, I'm a symbol of defiance, a representation of the indomitable human spirit yearning to break free from the shackles of conformity.

Me : Yep.. that's quite a thing. So, in a way, you become a vessel for the readers' self-reflection, a mirror through which they can examine their own struggles against conformity and the desire for freedom?

Cincinnatus : Precisely! I exist in an intangible realm, much like the often-overlooked complexities of human existence!

Me: If you say. In the end, Nat, as you stand on the precipice of your final moments (sorry for reminding), do you harbor any resentment towards Nabo, for his torment?

Cincinnatus : No... even if I should. No, for though Nabo has subjected me to unimaginable trials, he has also granted me freedom within the confines of my own consciousness. In a strange paradox, he has given me the opportunity to transcend my physicality, and that's not a small thing. And I am grateful.

Me: I'm glad to leave you in a better mood, Nat. Btw, what should I bring you next time?

Cincinnatus : Nabokov's head, if you don't mind.

Defamiliarization was first used by Viktor Shklovsky, the most famous critic and representative of the Russian Formalist school (who has a close relationship with his school in terms of his name!). In his view, the work of literature is to make things unfamiliar and move them away from the realm of habit and daily life, and in this way, the reader is encouraged to think about the subject.

Defamiliarization means making what is familiar and known new, strange, and different. By making familiar concepts strange, complicating forms, and adding difficulties, the time for the reader to understand is lengthened, and the moment of perception is postponed, thus creating literary pleasure and taste.

In this novel, in my opinion, an attempt has been made to present a different vision of life in a totalitarian society, and the reader is made to think again about topics that have become ordinary due to excessive repetition and thus people's gaze on these topics has remained on the surface, such as personal identity, love, and even death.

The above book is extremely difficult. With its hallucinated or surreal space that is as difficult to penetrate as Sisyphus' rock (at least for me, and the reason may be: my own weakness, the weakness of translation in some cases, the difficult language of the work, and... or a combination of all of them). In several different places, I have written my inability to understand and comprehend the story on the margin of my book. And this was sometimes painful and sometimes strange and fascinating (an example of this is the scene of the prisoner's meeting with his wife. A meeting scene that has become like a disturbing surreal tableau. We expect a romantic meeting and privacy, but the woman comes with her entire family and household items. The prison officials are constantly coming and going. The woman's brother is loudly reading, one of the children is petting a cat, the woman's father is sitting comfortably on the furniture he has brought with him and is constantly coughing, the lawyer is chattering, the son's friend is watching him, and the wife is sitting indifferently and not saying a word!). I have written down the things that came to my mind and my inferences (of course, the role of the translator's notes should not be underestimated in this regard), and now I am waiting for the day when perhaps someone will come along and解开 one of the knots of the story! In one sentence, it can be said that this book is not an easy and enjoyable novel to read. Of course, for those who are impatient, it may be enjoyable, but for me, it was a bit of a struggle!

Nabokov's Invitation to a Beheading is a profound exploration of a theme that haunted his career. Set mainly in a cramped jail cell, it delves into the idea of a citizen who strives to be different, the one who can't assimilate, and how society either forces that divergent voice to conform or extinguishes it.

I have adored most of his work, thanks to his superlative prose. However, this one felt a bit distinct, with a touch of Kafka and Orwell coming to mind. It had less of his dark humor compared to some of his other novels. Overall, although I wouldn't rank it among his best, it's still Nabokov, and after reading it twice, I can say it was better the second time.

The story is simple - a man named Cincinnatus C awaits his execution. Through his eyes, Nabokov shows not only the workings of a totalitarian state but also how any of us can have our dignity stripped by the force of conformity. All Cincinnatus wants to know is when he'll die, but he's instead toyed with mentally in a big game. The jailers irritate him by eating his food, turning his cell into their office, cracking jokes, and one even wants to dance with him to lighten the mood. The thing is, they never act cruelly towards him. They seem befuddled by Cincinnatus, and vice versa. Through their lively antics, Cincinnatus refuses to be a playmate and holds out against indignity until his last breath.

Via the narrative (which could have been a play), Nabokov explores how society can impose humiliation on its members. With no way to escape incarceration, Cincinnatus can only maintain a stiff upper lip and stubbornly refuse to be a pawn in others' tomfoolery. Like any non-conformist in a conformist society, he's in a no-win situation. If he conforms, he loses his dignity. If he refuses, he's treated like a child and must endure vexation.

Nabokov creates an absurd yet scary vision of an irrational world. While the writing has a Kafkaesque nature, he never read Kafka when writing this. Moreover, neither Kafka nor other writers handling these themes combine philosophy with surrealism in the same way or to the same extent as Nabokov does here. He's also clever in that there's more beneath the surface than meets the eye.

Although I liked it, it's not his best work.

The original article is not provided, so I can't rewrite and expand it specifically. However, I can give you a general example of how to expand an article.

Let's assume the original article is: "I went to the park today. It was a beautiful day. I saw many flowers and trees."

Expanded version:

I went to the park today. The weather was simply magnificent. The sun was shining brightly, and there was a gentle breeze blowing. As I walked through the park, I was greeted by a colorful array of flowers. There were roses in various shades of red, pink, and white. The tulips were standing tall and proud, their vibrant colors adding a splash of joy to the landscape. The trees were also looking their best. Their leaves were a lush green, providing a cool shade for those who wished to take a break. It was truly a wonderful sight to behold.

You can follow a similar pattern to expand your own article. If you provide the original article, I will be able to give you a more accurate and detailed expansion.

**Distopie a confronto: Nabokov versus Kafka**

The reader of "Invitation to a Beheading", a novel written by Vladimir Nabokov in 1934, is immediately led to notice clear references to the two main novels of Franz Kafka, "The Trial" and "The Castle", both published about a decade earlier. Some analogies between Nabokov's novel and Kafka's works appear too evident: from the setting - an impenetrable fortress high on a hill, isolated from the city, a symbol of an obscure and cruel power - to the inscrutability of the accusations brought against the protagonist, to his death sentence, to the choice of giving him a name followed only by the initial of his surname.

However, in the preface to the US edition of the book, translated by his son Dimitri under the supervision of the author and published in 1959, Nabokov denies any direct Kafkaesque ancestry of his novel, recalling that at the time of its writing: “… I did not know German, I was completely ignorant of modern German literature, and I had not yet read French or English translations of Kafka's works.” A little further on, while denying the existence of “spiritual affinities” between authors, he admits that if he had to indicate a “kindred spirit” to this work of his, his choice would fall on Kafka, rather than on G. H. Orwell (another author with whom "Invitation to a Beheading" has often been associated) “… or on other popular purveyors of illustrated ideas and journalistic-style narration.”

These sentences - if we accept what is stated in them - restore to us the fascinating idea that two great writers, very different from each other in terms of cultural roots and literary production methods, somehow imagined the same underlying “metaphor” to describe the society in which they lived and the oppression it exercised on the “sensibility” and aspirations of individuals, to convey to us the sense of anguish, solitude, impotence, and incommunicability in which the individual found himself immersed in Europe in the first decades of the 20th century.

If there are many analogies, there are just as many differences that can be found. Nabokov wrote his novel, as mentioned, in 1934, moreover in Berlin. He has been living in the German capital for over ten years, actively frequenting - not without conflicts - the circles of the Russian emigration, of which he offers a vivid portrait in "The Gift", a true “manifesto” of his intellectual identity, a work that he will interrupt momentarily just to write "Invitation to a Beheading". His visceral anti-Bolshevism, his liberal-based rejection of the Soviet experiment, has thus had the opportunity to be dramatically enriched by the direct experience of the rise of a new totalitarianism, that of Hitler, already triumphant in Germany in 1934. Unlike in Kafka, for whom the contrast between the individual and modern society is in some way incurable, being inherent in the absurd and alienating “rules” of the latter, for Nabokov Bolshevism and Nazism are two aberrations, against which one can oppose, as we will see, the weapon of inner freedom but also that of other social models in which such inner freedom is not trampled upon and repressed. From this substantial difference follows another, in my opinion no less important, which is directly reflected in the style, in the general tone of Nabokov's novel when compared with that of Kafka's masterpieces. In Kafka, the absurdity, the inscrutability of the “rules” and the behaviors through which power “materializes” is conveyed through their “normality”, their “flat” and in some way “aesthetic” description, the fact that they are never questioned. It is in this way that Kafka endows his works with an unprecedented power: if power, the absurd rules that characterize it and that he describes to us have no alternatives, then these represent normality, and those who try to oppose it and are its victims are “abnormal”, in some way bearers of an unacceptable and useless eccentricity. Kafka in his works reverses common sense to make us better perceive the coercive force of the mechanisms of power and their ability to generate alienation. On the contrary, in "Invitation to a Beheading", as mentioned, the alternative exists, which is why the author can limit himself to proposing to us a “classical” narrative schema: the protagonist, who like Josef K. or the surveyor K. is the victim, is however the victim of a “particular” power system, which we can immediately recognize as “bad” also because of the representation that the writer gives us of it. To be able to deepen this aspect, which I consider decisive in order to place the problem of the relationship between Nabokov's novel and Kafka's works in the right perspective, it is however necessary at this point to mention, albeit briefly, the plot of "Invitation to a Beheading".

The novel begins with the death sentence of the protagonist, Cincinnatus C., a thirty-year-old teacher, because of his “gnostic turpitude” and his being “opaque” with respect to the “translucency” of other people, whose thoughts are crossed by “public solicitude”. Cincinnatus has been a “different” person since childhood: an illegitimate son, he has not known his parents, he has grown up in solitude, loving 19th-century Russian literature (Pushkin, Gogol, Dostoevsky, Tolstoy), and marrying around the age of twenty the vulgar Martha, who continuously betrays him, having given him among other things two children who are not his, but whom he will continue to passionately love. His “difference” will lead him to be denounced and thus sentenced.
Cincinnatus is transferred to a cell in the city fortress, where no one tells him when the sentence will be executed. The grotesque director of the prison, who apparently goes to great lengths to make the protagonist's “stay” pleasant, introduces him to another inmate, Monsieur Pierre, who tries to become friends with Cincinnatus with games and jokes and by delving into his intimacy. Cincinnatus, however, distrusts the two, who are clearly in cahoots, and spends his time in silence, reading and writing on the few sheets he has at his disposal, anguished at not knowing when his life will end. After a few days, he receives a visit from his wife, who however arrives accompanied by the whole family and her new lover: the long-awaited meeting with Martha thus turns into a new pain for Cincinnatus.
One evening, he perceives the sound of someone digging a tunnel behind the walls of the cell and regains the hope of being able to be saved. The noises get closer and closer, but when the wall of his cell gives way from the tunnel, the director and Monsieur Pierre come out, who have intended to unite the cells of the two inmates in this way. Cincinnatus, however, finds a gap in the tunnel that leads him out of the fortress, but Emmie, the little daughter of his jailer, accompanies him back inside.
Finally, the day of the execution is set: Monsieur Pierre turns out to be the executioner, who according to a “humanitarian” law must become the friend of the condemned man so that he is not beheaded by a stranger. In the “open” ending, the solution to Cincinnatus' drama evokes the possibility of a collapse of the “system” that condemned him and the existence of an “elsewhere” where “… there were beings similar to him”.
These elements of the story give us a novel that in my opinion has a degree of “conventionality” unknown to Kafka's works and that in many ways, whatever the author thought, brings it closer to the works of an author like Orwell than to those of the Prague writer. Let me be clear, my intention is not to “trash” a novel that is undoubtedly very beautiful and that also makes us think deeply about aspects of totalitarianism that are not obvious (especially in 1934), such as the conformism of individuals and the masses, but rather to be a small, and entirely personal, contribution to the “comparative analysis of dystopia” in Nabokov and Kafka.
In this sense, I truly believe that decisive is the “political” perspective in which Nabokov is placed, who with "Invitation to a Beheading" wants on the one hand to describe to us the essence, but also the stupidity, of totalitarianism (Soviet or Nazi, I don't think it makes much difference in this context, although personally I would have a lot to say about the differences between the two “systems”), and on the other hand to indicate to us anyway a possible “way out” based on individual and especially intellectual consciousness.
In the characterization of the essential traits of the members of the society of which Cincinnatus C. is a victim, there are abundant, one might say inevitably, caricatured and satirical traits, which often originate from the great Russian tradition (Gogol, to cite the most blatant example) wisely mixed with the expressionist lesson assimilated by Nabokov through direct experience. Thus, in the first chapter, we are told that the public prosecutor and the defense lawyer in the trial of the protagonist were “… both made up and very similar to each other (the law required that they be uterine brothers, but this was not always possible, and then makeup was resorted to) …”: what more concise and effective way to describe a one-sided “justice”? A passage informs us that, having built a floating library on the river, it was noticed that the books were getting wet, so the authorities provided to … divert the river. The satirical effects surely reach their peak in the two figures of Rodrig Ivanovich, the director of the prison, and Monsieur Pierre, who are very characterized also from a physical point of view and whose task is to drag the protagonist towards an unconditional surrender of consciousness, through the wise use of real acts of psychological torture disguised as friendly attitudes and application of norms apparently aimed at guaranteeing the rights of the condemned man. These are perhaps the two most successful characters in the novel, in which Gogol and expressionism, a clownish surface and underlying cruelty are amalgamated in an irresistible mixture. Surely more conventional is the figure of the wife Martha, who in her brief appearances is characterized as being interested only in her loves and in the fact that her husband's misfortune does not affect her. This concern of hers is however shared by the whole family, which goes to visit Cincinnatus in a scene with almost Fellini-esque features, becoming the paradigm of that social conformism that is the indispensable humus of every totalitarianism but also, we could say with the wisdom of hindsight and surely departing from Nabokov's thought in this regard, of the perpetuation of the mechanisms of power beyond the formal aspect that it assumes.
If these, together with many others to be found in the novel, are the focal points of Nabokov's social criticism, to them the author opposes the figure of Cincinnatus, the gnostic, the illuminated one, “he who knows”, and who therefore, despite a thousand fears, anguishes, and waverings, keeps the helm of his consciousness straight and does not yield to the flatteries and threats of power. He owes his life to his mind and his thought, so much so that one evening in the cell he can think of disassembling his body, which is described moreover as tiny and insignificant. The splitting of body and thought, the undisputed superiority of the latter, the possibility of remaining intellectually intact despite the “external aggression” are the concrete content, in this novel, of Nabokov's typical “aristocratic” conception of the intellectual, which we find expressed in detail in the long written/confession of Cincinnatus that occupies chapter 8 of the novel. It is, as mentioned, the only “way out” from the totalitarian society that the author indicates to us, as will become even clearer in the finale, there being for him no possibility of a “awakening of consciousness” and of a collective action, indeed he abhors everything that has to do with collectivity.
Nabokov's dystopia in "Invitation to a Beheading" is in my opinion a “doubly minor” dystopia compared to those of Kafka (assuming that in the case of the great novels and stories of the latter one can speak in a strict sense of dystopia). It indeed lays bare the mechanisms of the totalitarian society, yet leaving it to be understood that “another world is possible”, something instead unknown in the Kafkaesque universe: it will suffice to realize this by comparing the ending of "Invitation to a Beheading" and that of "The Trial": to the great cardboard scenery of Cincinnatus' execution, with its crowd and the final collapse, is opposed the cruel intimacy, the “minimalist inevitability” of Josef K.'s end, which leaves everything as before. As a logical consequence of this, the dystopia presented to us in "Invitation to a Beheading" does not assume a “universal” character: if Cincinnatus in a different society would surely not have been tried and sentenced, we can say that Josef K.'s fate would always have remained the same, because for Kafka the problem of indicating a different society simply does not exist. Kafka does not become the standard-bearer of the aristocratic liberalism that informs Nabokov's view of the world, and what he writes maintains its validity also with respect to today's society, falsely “democratic”.
In conclusion, in my opinion, it is also these fundamental differences that allow us to appreciate an excellent book like "Invitation to a Beheading" but to keep it distinct, in terms of “absolute value”, from Kafka's masterpieces.