A very un-Nabokov Nabokov, this. Firstly, just on the basis of sheer length, 600 pages seems far too long and diffuse for an author whom I envision as the painstaking painter of condensed, highly intricate, and intensive imagery. His novels usually don't exceed 200 pages, and boy, do you feel every one of those pages. And so, Ada at times resembles as if Nabokov is trying to unduly channel Marquez or Rushdie, a minute observer attempting to handle epic proportions, like a microscope poring over a football field.

Then, there is the vaguely sci-fi factor and the family novel element. Eventually, it feels like too many balls are being juggled. I think this disjunct is partly responsible for why Ada is not a pitch-perfect achievement for me, why it has bits of unnecessary indulgences adhering to it. Another strange effect of this is that even when it flows well, I felt suspicious. Nabokov isn't supposed to be read this fast; he is not a page-turner, in a good way of course. But the story so tediously unfolds in certain parts that this flow feels relieving.

Of course, there are islands of rapturous prose in between, fluid phases where the narrative and imagery are as quintessentially VN as it gets, full of brilliant color and lapidary detail. But usually, these are interrupted (much like Van's and Ada's trysts) by needless allusions, indulgent trilingual puns, bracketized digressions that go nowhere until they decide they might as well get back to the point, and plainly indecipherable comments that have no relation to what's going on. True, much of these were in Lolita as well, but the difference, I think, is that in Lolita they were much more admirably controlled and, of course, each one had a narrative function and rationale. We must remember that Lolita is alive till Humbert fills the pages, and Humbert fills the pages mostly to defer his culpability and crime. Most of such things in Ada, however, are left hanging in their own halo, totally indifferent to and independent of the reader's success in deciphering them. If you trace the reference, get the allusion, know enough languages to decode the pun, great. If not, no big deal. Either way, it's a dead end.

Now, it's a testament to Nabokov's quality that despite disappointment, he can score pretty high, and that the source of this disappointment is precisely the high standards he has set. It's also part of the bittersweet deal you sign when you become a fan of a unique artist like Nabokov, for their failures often spring from the same impulse that led them to legendary success. The fact that they'll spill over and miss the mark sometimes is the necessary netherside, the inevitable and inherent risk that jostles alongside their genius. It is this genius that shines through the last 200 pages of the novel, carrying it through to a brilliant finish, as if suddenly discovering the good manners of a host and apologizing for the earlier lack of courtesy.

All in all, a nice afterglow following the luminous patch in his career, i.e. Lolita, Pnin, and Pale Fire - perfect diamonds that will exist as masterpieces, while moonlighting as consolations for his other indulgences.

Okay so I did not like this book.

However, I have to start this with a disclaimer: I skimmed it. And when I finished it, I was perusing some criticism, and I realized that all those times I had dismissed "Yukonsk" as a historical form of "Yukon" and "Terra" as another word for Heaven...were actually relevant and my knowledge of world history is uh not great. This book takes place on a parallel Earth, and I completely missed it.

With that said: I've been sitting with Ada for a few days, and I think my original gripes hold regardless. First, let's chat about how Van is the 19th century equivalent of a douchey "intellectual" softboi on Hinge.

I don't think Nabokov was trying to make Van likeable (he knows how to make shit characters dangerously likeable as seen with Humbert Humbert), and fuck is Van ever not. Van is the most self-absorbed, pretentious little fuck that I've read in a long time. You could just see his dating profile: photos of a bearded hipster drinking expensive craft beer in the Himalayas; Interests: "socialism, travel, discussing politics and feminism until 5am." He'd hook you based on his apparent charm and broad knowledge of Vulture articles, just like he hooked Ada and Lucette and every other woman he met for some reason. But after ten seconds of your first chat, if you had an ounce of self-respect, you'd start hating him real quick as he'd tell you everything he's won, his IQ, his genius papers he wrote in his undergrad, and the whole thing about being obsessed with his sister.

It's not that Nabokov doesn't write Van well; he absolutely does. But all the female characters in this are shells, comparatively. So basically you get this rounded asshole, and a few women who SEEM really interesting, but are never fleshed out beyond how much they adore Van. I don't think books like that should rest on laurels of competent writing: they're fundamentally misogynist. While I love Nabokov and don't think that complaint applies to all his novels, it does to this one. Even if you're trying to make a comment about masculinity/honour/hierarchy/the Old Ways, it's a shit, privileged way to make the comment and it doesn't hold up. I wanted to meet Ada (and Lucette, for that matter), and I never really did.

Equally infuriating is that the whole novel, I imagine intentionally so because it's at least partially a parody of 19C Russian family drama novels, just drips with privilege and wealth. Reading it during corona-times (with economic disparity starkly underlined) was maybe not the best call, but I think it would have frustrated me regardless. I just can't be pissed to care about rich white people whining about being rich white people. I get that the literary form has to be preserved to comment on/satirize it, but as I frequently allude to in reviews of formal-experiment-literature: if the form completely overtakes the content, the risk of failure is just fucking massive. This book doesn't fail, and I couldn't begin to claim it does because I clearly MISSED THE ENTIRE SCI-FI GENRE OF IT LOLOLOL, but it does revel in its innate rich white male privilege. And it's way too long to sustain that working, now, in 2020.

I wanted to toss this across the room many a time, but like...by the time I die, I want to have read all of Nabokov's work, and I knew if I tossed it, I would literally never pick it up again. So I plodded on. When I found out I'd missed half the genre, I had a split second of thinking "oh shit...should I reread it??" It was a split second. The answer is no. Hell naw. In no universe, parallel or otherwise.

That said: in my insomniac criticism-skimming, I read somewhere that a lot of 'difficult fiction' is written with the intent of washing-over (cf Finnegan's Wake and Gravity's Rainbow) -- but that Ada is best read with a decoder. If you do decide to read this, whether because you're a masochistic completionist like me or just like rich people whining -- find the decoder. There's an interesting one here that I will, at some point, peruse a little bit -- just to see what I missed. Because dammit Nabokov....you're still so good, even when you're bad, that I'll always care. A little bit.

Εκπληκτικό ταξίδι!

This phrase simply means "amazing journey!" It can refer to any kind of trip or adventure that is full of excitement, wonder, and new experiences.

An εκπληκτικό ταξίδι could be a backpacking trip through Europe, a safari in Africa, or a surfing vacation in Hawaii. It could also be a more local adventure, like a hike in the mountains or a day trip to a nearby city.

No matter where it takes you, an εκπληκτικό ταξίδι is sure to be a memorable one. It's a chance to step out of your comfort zone, explore new places, and create lasting memories.

So, if you're looking for an adventure that will leave you breathless, start planning your εκπληκτικό ταξίδι today!

The first reading of such a book may only be superficial and capture a small range of the material hidden within its pages. The时空变换, the alternations of the narrators, and the objective references make it a "difficult" story in its overall perspective, yet a reference point for what we call modern in literature.

However, although the main theme of the book is the romantic relationship of the two protagonists and how it develops over time, the feeling it left me with was diametrically opposed to the romantic. I often felt a sense of detachment, a restraint, and perhaps even an instrumentalization of the female nature.

Let's hope that a rereading will shed more light on everything.

Oh man, what can I truly express about this remarkable book?

I can assert that I could potentially reread Ada, and solely Ada, for the remainder of my life and still experience a profound sense of satisfaction.

For the majority of the time, I perused this book in the manner I typically do during a first reading - that is, superficially, simply attempting to gain a general understanding of the events unfolding and relishing the steamy parts (of which there are numerous).

However, on the rare occasions when I took the time to sit down and exerted an effort to decode the puns and allusions, everything began to fall into place.

I was astounded by the sheer beauty and richness that emerged, and I deeply regretted not having read more attentively throughout.

I've noticed that the phrase "Faberge egg" is frequently bandied about in reviews of this book.

I've never actually seen one, but if beholding one of those eggs can make you think not only, "Wow, this is incredibly detailed and technically outstanding and elitist," but also, "Wow, this is the essence of it all," then indeed, this book is like a Faberge egg.

In conclusion, as The New York Times Book Review proclaims on the cover of the book (please note the attribution of the quote, Josh): "A great work of art."

This, without a doubt, is the longest novel Nabokov has ever written during his entire lifetime.

Clocking in at approximately a little bit more than six hundred pages, the book, like Lolita, tells about a delightfully forbidden love story. It closely revolves around the incestuous relationship between two equally passionate and capricious lovers, Ada and Van.

Upon fulfilling a splendid job by incorporating his trademark poetical prose into this novel, Nabokov had, once again, made us rethink our own moral compass of what is right and wrong in deciding who we can love. Blood is thicker than water, possibly, is a fitting saying best used to describe what had happened to the characters over the course of the narrative.

As our two main protagonists struggle to find their place in a morally corrupted upper-class family environment, where cousins and siblings can be so much more than what may be expected of them from the other family members, we will find ourselves discreetly rooting for them to be finally together, in a holy matrimonial unison of marriage, if only the social conventions and their biological conditions were fully supportive of their romance.

Eponymous Ada, unlike Lolita, however, was an exemplary heroine that had an alacrity to pervade the readers' imagination into thinking that we, as humans, often put on the veil of hypocrisy when it comes to our own emotions and free will. Nabokov's memorable heroine was a character who was created symbolically to demolish the rigidity of religious values which were embedded into us all for such a long time, hindering us to think and express ourselves, as well as carry on with our lives, by a more carefree and happy-go-lucky attitude.

For the fear that was breathed into a lot of people through the acute conservativism of religion has transformed and also killed the child in every single one of us, creatively turning us into sepulchrally quiet, submissive to the invisible, and ignorantly obedient individuals.

In order to portray a detachment from this, Nabokov has provided the application of the novel's fabulous social setting which was a spot-on canvas for it. Where its inhabitants acted with seemingly reckless abandon for all constraints imposed by religion, in exchange for a life full of merriment and quenched ardors, granted to us by this short and sweet little thing we call life.

Moreover, in spite of the many intricacies of plot and psychology, the story proceeds at a spanking pace. Do yourself a favor to pick up and read this novel, and take a precaution to peruse the manuscript with an open mind, for as long as it is a Nabokov novel, you surely know that it would always be dyed and painted with controversy.

Twenty pages into this book, I found myself thinking: "What on earth is this? This is completely unreadable."

After consulting some reviews, I learned that the story is set on Anti-Terra, a fictional planet similar to Earth, where an American-Russian aristocracy still prospers. The story itself revolves around the romance or relationship between Ada and Van, who initially believe they are niece and cousin but are actually sister and brother. Alright, that's already something. Fortunately, from page 20 onwards, the story develops more or less chronologically, although there are regular comments from Ada and Van in their eighties. Nevertheless, I gave up after page 120.

If I didn't know better, it seems Nabokov was trying to prove that he is better than Joyce, Proust, Borges, and others in creating a complex story, with multi-layered sentences, explicit or hidden references, and so on. And I must admit that from time to time, Nabokov creates sentences like fireworks: beautiful, amazing, and breathtaking. However, very often, he seems to have forgotten that he has a reader to consider, and the sentences are just too difficult. Of course, perhaps I'm not intelligent enough to understand his universe; that's quite possible. But since I've read Joyce, Proust, and Borges and enjoyed them, I'm rather disappointed that this book didn't resonate with me. I have scheduled a second reading to see if I can gain a better understanding.

Nabakov is truly a remarkable author who operates on a completely different plane compared to most others.

In his works, there is an extraordinary abundance of puns and word play that often transcends language boundaries. It's a literary feat that is both captivating and intellectually stimulating.

I'll be the first to admit that I don't claim to understand every single reference he makes. However, with the valuable assistance of the Notes provided by "Vivian Darkbloom," I was able to identify a significant number of them.

This made the reading experience not only enjoyable but also extremely satisfying. It's as if Nabakov is constantly challenging the reader to engage with the text on a deeper level, to explore the hidden meanings and connections within the words.

His use of language is so masterful that it elevates his works to a whole new level of artistry. Reading Nabakov is like embarking on a thrilling adventure, where every page holds a new surprise and a new opportunity for discovery.

**"Ada or Ardor: A Multifaceted Masterpiece"**

Ada or Ardor is a novel that defies easy categorization. It is a complex web of language, memory, and desire.

The story is told through the memories of Van Veen, who looks back on his relationship with Ada, whom he initially believes to be his cousin but later discovers is his sister.

Nabokov's writing is a tour de force. His use of language is exquisite, with long, convoluted sentences that are both beautiful and challenging.

The novel is set in an alternate world called Demonia, or Antiterra, which has its own unique history and culture.

One of the most interesting aspects of the novel is the unreliable narrator. Van's memories are often clouded by his own desires and obsessions, making it difficult for the reader to know what is real and what is not.

Despite its complexity, Ada or Ardor is a deeply engaging and rewarding read. It explores themes of love, family, identity, and the nature of reality.

The novel is full of literary references and wordplay, which add to its richness and depth.

Overall, Ada or Ardor is a masterpiece that showcases Nabokov's genius as a writer. It is a novel that will stay with you long after you have finished reading it.

https://kansasbooks.blogspot.com/2023...

DNF pag. 88

Before entering another reading slump, unfortunately, I find myself compelled to put this book aside for a distant future (or perhaps another life

I don't even know how to classify this book. Is it science-fiction? It has elements of that genre, yes.

Is it fantasy? Sure, it might be, at a very subtle level.

Is it magical realism? Damn it, it has traits of that one too. What is it? What? I don't know. But I feel like I've been baptized into Nabokov's style with it. It's my first book of his and I honestly can't wait to get each of his other ones and drown in them.

At certain points, especially in the beginning and in the fourth part of it, I felt like giving up. It was so hard to read, I was trudging on by sheer will power, thinking that there must be a way this proves worthy, it's Nabokov, it has to teach me something. And it did. I also had outer motivation to finish it, but at some point, it stopped being about that. I simply had to finish it. I had to find out what's happening. Of course, there were moments when I wished it was simpler, more concise, rather than flamboyant and peacockish, but with such a big author like Nabokov, you either gulf his writing down or you can't take it. I'm proud I was able to make it to the end and also that a thing that rarely happens to me came true: I wanted to immediately start again with it. I'm not a big re-reader, probably because my experience with books is limited and I still haven't reached the point of saturation, but it just happens that I badly want to take this on again.

Remember I said this might be SF or fantasy, for all I know? Well, this book's world is a place called Demonia, or sometimes Antiterra. It looks a lot like Earth and definitely gives the feeling of familiarity, but it's not the normal world we all have lived in. Just to give you a few details, the USA is composed of both Americas, North and South, and the three languages spoken there are primarily Russian, second French and third English. This gargantuan state has been discovered by... you wouldn't guess, Africans. As to what happened to our world, it's a complicated story. As much as I understood, Nabokov hints that Earth exists and that some people believe in it, almost like a cult or a religion. You don't know this from the start. The whole book resembles more of a jigsaw puzzle, obliging the reader to combine details that he found scattered throughout the entire length of it. At one point, some details are so absurd that you get confused as to what you previously knew about the entire setting, and you go back to check if it isn't just your imagination jesting you.

The two main characters of this story are Van and Ada, two beings destined for tragedy. They meet for the first time at Ada's house, a manor, when he is 14 and she is 12. Now, here comes the very intriguing and interesting part. As young as they are, they fall in love with each other and so begins their their tragedy. They believe they are cousins, but in fact they are sister and brother, an information which they find much later on in life, when their relationship has been blossoming for years. The erotic element is a frontispiece for the purest affection. As always, authentic feeling is preceded by animalic desire, transforming the two kids into sex-driven machines and kindling a fire in their bodies as they hunger for each other. They do it all the time, anywhere, risking their reputations, careless as to what the world has to say about their affair. This passion seems a bit out of the line, when you take their age into consideration, but the incestuous relationship comes to detail them deeper than anything else. Their love takes form in the detriment of the outer world, and their lonely selves find each other with eternal gaiety. They become - and will be, for the rest of their lives, no matter what happens - inseparable in soul.

The entire book follows them through both ups and downs, separations lasting years and explosions of erotism lasting days, since they are mere kids until they become aged and frail, when their love transforms into something else, something deeper and more meaningful.

I don't know what I can spoil of it, because it's written in such an animated and theatrical way that it builds up on its past pages. As difficult as it is, reading it offers a substantial reward, when you get used with it.

I honestly didn't expect Nabokov's writing to be so labyrinthine. You can find extremely pretentious imagery depicted and all the sensorial descriptions are elongated for the pure pleasure (it so seems) of using more expressive words. His dialogue is just as entangled as his prose is. Very vivid, lively lines that make the characters stand out of the dusty shelves of memory. Whenever they argue, its acidity is obviously underlined, while when Van and Ada are alone, it quiets down to a murmur, with inebriated words of love and familiarity. It is this particularity that gives the book its infinite setting - the way each personae swims through its nature and melts within its borders. There is no world without Van and Ada and none of the two would be themselves without the world. The whole thing is written like a memoir, but interrupted by present, future and past. Van is ninety and dying of cancer when he decides to tell the story of their love and that shows through the kind remembrance of his and Ada's young selves at play. At the same time, there is another epoch to this story, something I would like to call "infinity". Their relation is not a time-bound connection; even if it's restricted by their life span, it's not suppressed by it. They resemble eternal beings, while also being pitifully human. But, after all, what is infinity to man? His life, because that is the only clock that man hears ticking.

However important their love story is for this work, it's not the only thing that defines it. Nabokov touches many, if not all, of the important themes human kind has been debating on for as long as speech existed. It requires knowledge of death, religion, love, hatred, passion, erotism, the condition of man in the Universe and his ever-lasting search for answers, as well as developments on his personal conceptions. Probably the most important theme that the writer disentangled for the reader is time. He's a very sensible author, in the way that he can transcribe his fears and feelings onto paper because of his ability to open up and imbibe with emotion. It's rather raw, unrefined, but it gives depth to the setting's atmosphere.

I am more than happy to have read this and would recommend it to anyone. As much as it spawned in me the unstoppable desire to read more of Nabokov, it can be a great incursion into the mind of a writer who is more than a classic of our era. As hard as it is, there is no point where you find it boring - it's just strenuous, not placid. The writing is graphic, Nabokov's mind is sharp and the world he believed in was eloquently put on paper, so we would believe in it too.

Maybe the only thing that hints at a sense of Time is rhythm;

not the recurrent beats of the rhythm but the gap between two such beats, the gray gap between black beats: the Tender Interval.

First off, I should say this is my least favourite Nabokov novel. It’s an insanely clever novel and probably needs to be read at least twice to be fully appreciated, which is another way of saying it’s hard work. The first three chapters are virtually unreadable. It felt like arriving at someone’s door who clearly has no intention of allowing you into his house or even exchanging pleasantries. Ada is a novel that made me feel stupid as often as it thrilled me. It’s a kind of pun or parody festival and while I loved all the puns I got, there were so many, often multilingual or literary jokes, that went over my head that at times I felt like I was watching University Challenge and horrible holes were being revealed in my intelligence, not a very flattering feeling.

Ada is presented (playfully) as the memoir of Dr. Ivan Veen, psychologist, professor of philosophy and student of time, who chronicles his illicit life-long love for his first cousin, later to be discovered sister, Ada Veen. It takes place in a mostly imaginative though usually recognisable world. Ada mischievously incorporates into its form just about every genre of literature – fairy story, historical fiction, science fiction, erotica, alternative history, biography, autobiography, literary criticism, essays and it even ends with a tongue in cheek review of itself. It also contains references to all Nabokov’s other novels, making it a kind of uber novel.

As is always the case, you often feel there’s no other writer who revels in language with the same lithe exuberance as Nabokov. There are long passages and lots of them when Nabokov reminds you what a master stylist he is and what a sheer pleasure it is to read him. If I listed all my favourite quotes, this review would be about ten pages long. It’s also a fabulous antidote to the dubious and often crass or pretentious nature of sex description in literature. Nabokov never strikes an off note in his depiction of erotic pleasure and often he manages to be wildly funny to boot.

Perhaps Ada herself never quite comes alive except as male wish fulfilment?

In short, a novel I will return to when I’m older and (hopefully) wiser.