Começar por referir dois elementos centrais desta leitura: a) considero Nabokov um dos escritores mais relevantes de sempre em termos estéticos, a par com Proust; b) por três vezes quis fechar o livro e desistir, a tal desespero me levou o autor nesta leitura. Se b) não aconteceu, foi apenas porque existia a).

“Fogo Pálido”, como muitas análises vos dirão é um objecto único, embora o tenha sido mais em 1962 do que é hoje. A obra apresenta-se como uma espécie de introdução ao pós-modernismo literário, e desde então muitas outras lhe seguiram as pisadas. Com o modernismo tivemos o fluxo de consciência com os seus efeitos discursivos sustentados por razões dos diferentes modos de pensar, com o pós-modernismo tivemos a total deslinearização e fragmentação discursiva sem razões ou explicações, atirando os leitores borda fora, sem bóias de socorro ou sinais de guia.

Inevitável para quem lê hoje “Fogo Pálido” não pensar em “Se Numa Noite de Inverno Um Viajante” de Calvino, assim como não pensar na série de aventuras “Choose Your Own Adventure”, e por sua vez em toda a discussão em redor do hipertexto, narrativas interativas, participação dos leitores, etc.

Nabokov constrói um livro no qual apesar de contar uma história, não o faz seguindo a convencional estrutura narrativa, mas antes um modo muito pouco dado ao formato de contar histórias, o jogo. A base de “Fogo Pálido” é uma estrutura de jogo, e a leitura passa por jogar com os elementos que vão sendo apresentados à medida que vamos avançando. O livro constitui-se numa lógica de perguntas, com respostas espalhadas ao longo de toda a sua extensão, desde o Índice ao Índex (todos os elementos são relevantes), cabendo ao leitor encontrar as repostas, para as quais terá de jogar com as diferentes peças - objectos, acções, personagens - na reconstrução do todo.

Assumindo a lógica de jogo como central e fugindo sempre que possível da narrativa, a obra acaba operando numa base de grande racionalidade, deixando pouco espaço à emocionalidade, que fica mais reservada para o final da obra quando as peças se vão re-organizando e começamos a vislumbrar partes do todo. Deste modo o livro requer uma abordagem laboriosa, com estudo e dedicação, impossibilitando ou tornando difícil a normal leitura corrida. Desta forma compreende-se que a crítica não tenha reagido muito bem ao livro quando saiu, e só mais tarde, quando alguns críticos e académicos realizaram as primeiras releituras se começou a perceber a diferente e inovadora estrutura trazida por Nabokov à literatura.

Dito tudo isto, gostei do trabalho, reconheço a experimentação e inovação, mas não fui particularmente surpreendido emocionalmente, tendo sentido um certo afastamento da obra ao longo de toda a sua leitura. Talvez precise de realizar uma releitura, ou simplesmente o facto de estarmos em 2015, e muitas obras depois desta terem explorado a mesma abordagem, simplesmente me sinta cansado do experimentalismo que acabou por trazer muito pouco de novo à literatura. Muito se fez em busca de novos modos de contar histórias, mas continuamos dependentes da estrutura narrativa, muito provavelmente porque essa não foi um modelo criado pelos escritores, mas antes se reporta ao modelo cognitivo por meio do qual fazemos sentido da realidade que nos circunda.


Nota: Para quem desejar estudar em profundidade o livro, recomendo vivamente o livro "Nabokov's "Pale Fire": The Magic of Artistic Discovery" (1999) de Brian Boyd, um dos maiores especialistas em estudos de narrativa, assim como em Nabokov.

I loved this, especially as my copy of the book seemed to operate on a meta-meta-meta-meta-level.

The book initially appears to be an unfinished poem, 'Pale Fire', by a dead writer named John Shade, together with a foreword, detailed commentary and index by a friend of his, Charles Kinbote.

But Kinbote is less interested in the poem than he is in discussing the country of 'Zembla' and its flamboyantly gay, deposed King. It's more or less apparent, as the book progresses, that Kinbote is EITHER a) the King of Zembla, b) The insane Professor Botkin (= almost an anagram of Kinbote, see?), who believes that he is the King of Zembla or c) A fictional creation of Shade, who has faked his own death and written the commentary and notes himself in an attempt at a post-modern masterpiece.

So, the reader is left unsure what parts of a fictional work are INTENDED to be fictional in the context of the book (Zembla doesn't 'really' exist, but as the rest of the book is also unreal, does this matter?). And of course, if you want to be all realist about it, the whole thing is written by Nabakov rather than Shade or Kinbote anyway.

But (meta-meta-meta level) my copy of the book has pencil writing in the margin from some student/s, who've provided their own commentary on Kinbote's (=Botkin or Shade's, = Nabakov's) commentary, seemingly without realising the irony.

And (meta-meta-meta-meta level), someone else has stuck a post-it on the last page, saying:


'Dear Phantom Annotator,
Your meta-scribbling has amused me more you could imagine'

I laughed. But now my head hurts.

I am still undecided whether to leave the art gallery or to linger a little longer. There is a painting here, named " Pale Fire ", which seems to shout at me " Hey ! You didn't understand anything, come closer, look again ! ". I turn around, and look at the man - or the play of colors that seems to be a man...I look carefully.. The first layer of the painting is a realistic portrait of a middle-aged man with gray hair and glasses. He is wearing a dark suit and a tie, and he has a serious expression on his face. He is looking slightly to the right, as if he is listening to someone or something.
The second layer of the painting is a collage of colorful shapes and symbols that cover most of the portrait, leaving only some parts of the man's face and body visible. The collage is made of paper, fabric, metal, wood, and plastic, that are cut, torn, glued, nailed or stapled to the canvas.
The shapes and symbols are abstract and random, such as circles, squares, triangles, stars, arrows, letters, numbers, and signs, in réd, yellow, blue, green , orange, purple, creating a sense of chaos and confusion.

One might say that the collage represents the true essence of the man in the portrait, who is John Shade, a famous poet who wrote a 999- line poem before his death. An other might say he is Charles Kinbote, a friend of Shade, who edited and commented on his poem. He says that he has hidden clues and messages in the collage that reveal his own identity and history as the exiled king of Zembla. However, the collage is so chaotic and obscure that it is hard to discern any meaning or pattern from it. I am left wondering whether the painter is telling the truth, or whether he is lying, delusional, or playing a prank. The man in the portrait seems to have a life and a story of his own, but his face and expression are mostly obscured by the collage. I am challenged to look beyond the surface and to question his own assumptions and expectations..

" Pale Fire " - is taken from Shakespeare's " Timon of Athens " - " The moon's an arrant thief, and her pale fire she snatches from the sun ". Yes, the moon is not original, but only a reflection of the sun. Then, what is this pale fire and who or what is the sun or the moon ? Is Shade the sun, and Kinbote is the moon, or Kinbote is the sun, and Shade is the moon, since he claims to have inspired Shade to write about Zembla ?
Perhaps there is no sun at all, and all we have are pale fires, reflections of reflections, illusions of illusions. The man in the painting is still looking at me, and seems to be laughing at me..

A Zemblan nesting doll* of a novel.

*Much like it's Russian counterpart in that the primary feature is that dolls of descending size fit into one another, but unlike the Russian counterpart the Zemblan variety are tasteful and portray virile male youths.

I am going to abstain from composing this review in rhyming verse, though it is almost irresistible, largely due to the fact that I know I would bungle it up - a bit of a Gradus in that way.

This deceptive and fun novel has at it's heart a poem consisting of four cantos and totaling 999 lines. The poem itself is a lovely autobiographical piece written by the character John Shade, who as it turns out is not the true protagonist of the novel. The real protagonist is not this well-loved and much lauded poet, but an acquaintance/neighbor of his, one Charles Kinbote, that gets the rights to publish the poem along with his extensive commentary. The Foreward and Commentary, penned by the Kinbote character, is not as readily enjoyable and takes a bit longer to figure out what exactly is going on - this is not a straight-forward affair. What is quickly discernible is that Kinbote has little intention of sticking to the poem and instead wants to focus on topics important to him, namely his homeland of Zembla, the ousting of its' monarch, and of coarse himself. There is occasionally some commentary that is directly relevant to the poem, but it is perfunctory and seems like off-base interpretation or is even denigrating. The real story behind the story (as far as Kinbote is concerned) evolves and reveals itself through the commentary. That story is one of intrigue and is much less relate-able, but is a fun puzzle.

There is plenty one can take away - commentary of commentary and critics in general, the world of literature, blah blah blah - the layers are too much for my puny lump of grey matter, but I did enjoy this tricky piece and look forward to giving a reread before long. This is one extremely clever book, almost too clever at times, but you can tell that Nabokov must have had a blast writing it. A hearty - Hoorah!

Reading attempt #1
From the Foreword: “Although those notes, in conformity with custom, come after the poem, the reader is advised to consult them first and then study the poem with their help, rereading them of course as he goes through its text, and perhaps, after having done with the poem, consulting them a third time so as to complete the picture.”
At first I foolishly followed this “advice,” forgetting that it is not the Foreword to the novel but a part of it and, moreover, written by the character Kinbote with his agenda. Reaching the middle of Canto 2, it became evident that several quite different stories running through the commentary (also written by K.) are not perfunctory, I quickly glanced into the poem written by Shade (another principal character) only to realize that Kinbote’s “advice” was a trap for the reader into his story and not the poem.

Reading attempt #2
Read the entire Canto #1 then re-read it along with the commentary, moved to the next Canto and so on. I can see how this route can work for some readers but it didn’t for me. While occasionally related to the text of Shade’s poem as it should be in such annotations, Kinbote’s comments were too distracting. He was evidently more interested in the story, totally unrelated to the poem, about the kingdom of ‘Zemla’, its "king" in exile and "assassin" Gradus.

Reading attempt #3
Read the entire poem by Shade, all four Cantos, and then read Kinbote’s commentary separately as a standalone text. Bingo! Now the connection between the poem and its ‘commentary’ became much more satisfying.

There is a quote toward the end of Kinbote’s commentary, his thoughts about Shade’s poem, which I think equally applies to Nabokov’s entire novel (titled the same as the poem): “I reread Pale Fire more carefully. I liked it better when expecting less.”

Not that Nabokov delivers less than what can be expected from the classic, the label his Pale Fire rightfully earned, but the uniqueness and clever originality of this book beguiles any common reading expectations. He definitely engages a reader’s intelligence in solving several layers of puzzles and, if Kinbote’s ramblings occasionally feel tiresome as they did to me sometimes, the ending with its twist is supremely rewarding as a plot/puzzle-solving exercise.

I cannot say though that I enjoyed reading it as a literary work as neither the style of Shade’s poem nor that of Kinbote’s narrative appealed to me. But the original architecture of the ‘novel’ and its intelligent plot design make it a tremendously unique reading.

The Index should not be skipped, it’s an integral part of the novel and as amusing as the rest. It’s wittingly an index to the ‘commentary’, not to the poem itself (and unsurprisingly given which fictional character wrote it). K.'s one-word index entry for Sybil, the poet Shade’s wife, is priceless: “passim”.

P.S. I’ve just noticed that today (July 19), when I finished reading the book, happens to be an important date in the novel, when Shade presumably started to write his last Canto. While a sheer coincidence, I shuddered at the thought that the murder ending in the novel is in two days, no matter how fictional :-).

“All the seven deadly sins are peccadilloes but without three of them, Pride, Lust, and Sloth, poetry might never have been born.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire



One of the funniest, most absurdly brilliant books I've ever read. I find it amazing that Nabokov would have written this novel (which oddly is a haunting retelling of my life story) without mentioning me by name at all. There must be a reason for this. Perhaps Nabokov was trying to not just protect me, but my whole family from the fame and pain that would no doubt have accompanied the public's inquisitiveness and the critics' vampirism if this information had been made plain and obvious. That is what I love about Nabokov. He is a gentle ghost of a poet that exists in many levels and in many times and in many spaces simultaneously. I think his integrity in lying about and hiding my influence is both beautiful and nobel and certainly shaking with a heterosexual, Russian poet's naiveté.

Pale Fire, published in 1962, is the third book of Nabokov's that I have read. Unlike Lolita and Pnin, it is incredibly hard to understand. I really struggled through the narrative, not due to its subject matter, but due to the way it was written. Pale Fire is an experimental novel and unlike anything I've ever read before. The novel is presented as a 999-line poem titled "Pale Fire", written by the fictional poet John Shade, with a foreword, lengthy commentary and index written by Shade's neighbor and academic colleague, Charles Kinbote. Together these elements form a narrative in which both fictional authors are central characters.

Pale Fire's unusual structure has attracted much attention, and it is often cited as an important example of metafiction (= a form of fiction that emphasizes its own narrative structure in a way that inherently reminds the audience that they are reading a fictional work), as well as an analog precursor to hypertext fiction (= a genre of electronic literature, characterized by the use of hypertext links that provide a new context for non-linearity in literature and reader interaction). Due to its self-reflexivity, unreliable narration and, it has spawned a wide variety of interpretations and a large body of written criticism.

n  I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
By the false azure in the window panen

Pale Fire is a book about the process of creating a book. Kinbote, claims he is writing an analysis of John Shade's long poem "Pale Fire", but the narrative of the relationship between Shade and Kinbote is presented in what is ostensibly the footnotes to the poem. As a reader you are forced to constantly jump back and forth (= hypertext fiction) between the poem and its footnotes. And still, you are struggling to make sense of this narrative because Kinbote is so unreliable. He is truly unhinged and the things he claims cannot be true, can they? On top of that, he doesn't use the footnotes to explain the poem. Instead, he focuses on his own concerns. So, in a way, Pale Fire can be read straight through, without jumping back and forth between the poem and the commentary. I tried both methods: at first, I was jumping back and forth, but when the commentary didn't prove to be illuminating, I just read the novel straight through. Can't say that made much more sense either. ;)

I'm genuinely surprised that this is one of Nabokov's most beloved novels. It makes me feel a bit stupid (which is fine!) because you need to be really smart to properly understand and enjoy this on your first go, and I managed to do neither. I didn't really enjoy this. And I certainly didn't understand it.

As Nabokov pointed out himself, the title of John Shade's poem is from Shakespeare's Timon of Athens: "The moon's an arrant thief, / And her pale fire she snatches from the sun" (Act IV, scene 3), a line often taken as a metaphor about creativity and inspiration.

Shade's poem digressively describes many aspects of his life. Canto 1 includes his early encounters with death and glimpses of what he takes to be the supernatural. Canto 2 is about his family and the apparent suicide of his daughter, Hazel Shade. Canto 3 focuses on Shade's search for knowledge about an afterlife, culminating in a "faint hope" in higher powers "playing a game of worlds" as indicated by apparent coincidences. Canto 4 offers details on Shade's daily life and creative process, as well as thoughts on his poetry, which he finds to be a means of somehow understanding the universe.

In Kinbote's editorial contributions he tells three stories intermixed with each other. One is his own story, notably including what he thinks of as his friendship with Shade. After Shade was murdered, Kinbote acquired the manuscript, including some variants, and has taken it upon himself to oversee the poem's publication, telling readers that it lacks only line 1000. Kinbote's second story deals with King Charles II, "The Beloved", the deposed king of Zembla. King Charles escaped imprisonment by Soviet-backed revolutionaries, making use of a secret passage and brave adherents in disguise. Kinbote repeatedly claims that he inspired Shade to write the poem by recounting King Charles's escape to him and that possible allusions to the king, and to Zembla, appear in Shade's poem, especially in rejected drafts. However, no explicit reference to King Charles is to be found in the poem. Kinbote's third story is that of Gradus, an assassin dispatched by the new rulers of Zembla to kill the exiled King Charles. Gradus makes his way from Zembla through Europe and America to New Wye, suffering comic mishaps. In the last note, to the missing line 1000, Kinbote narrates how Gradus killed Shade by mistake.

Towards the end of the narrative, Kinbote all but states that he is in fact the exiled King Charles, living incognito; however, enough details throughout the story, as well as direct statements of ambiguous sincerity by Kinbote towards the novel's end, suggest that King Charles and Zembla are both fictitious. In the latter interpretation, Kinbote is delusional and has built an elaborate picture of Zembla complete with samples of a constructed language as a by-product of insanity; similarly, Gradus was simply an unhinged man trying to kill Shade, and his backstory as a revolutionary assassin is also made up. In an interview, Nabokov later said that Kinbote killed himself after finishing the book.

Some readers concentrate on the apparent story, focusing on traditional aspects of fiction such as the relationship among the characters. Some readers see Charles Kinbote as an alter-ego of the insane Professor V. Botkin, to whose delusions John Shade and the rest of the faculty of Wordsmith College generally condescend. Nabokov himself endorsed this reading, stating in an interview in 1962 (the novel's year of publication) that Pale Fire "is full of plums that I keep hoping somebody will find. For instance, the nasty commentator is not an ex-King of Zembla nor is he professor Kinbote. He is professor Botkin, or Botkine, a Russian and a madman." The Index, supposedly created by Kinbote, features an entry for a "Botkin, V.," describing this Botkin as an "American scholar of Russian descent"—and referring to a note in the Commentary on line 894 of Shade's poem, in which no such person is directly mentioned but a character suggests that "Kinbote" is "a kind of anagram of Botkin or Botkine". [I totally didn't catch that.] In this interpretation, "Gradus" the murderer is an American named Jack Grey who wanted to kill Judge Goldsworth, whose house "Pale Fire's" commentator—whatever his "true" name is—is renting. Goldsworth had condemned Grey to an asylum from which he escaped shortly before mistakenly killing Shade, who resembled Goldsworth.

Other readers see a story quite different from the apparent narrative. "Shadeans" maintain that John Shade wrote not only the poem, but the commentary as well, having invented his own death and the character of Kinbote as a literary device. "Kinboteans", a decidedly smaller group, believe that Kinbote invented the existence of John Shade.

Though a minority of commentators believe or at least accept the possibility that Zembla is as "real" as New Wye, most assume that Zembla, or at least the operetta-quaint and homosexually gratified palace life enjoyed by Charles Kinbote before he is overthrown, is imaginary in the context of the story. As in other Nabokov books, however, the fiction is an exaggerated or comically distorted version of his own life as a son of privilege before the Russian Revolution and an exile afterwards, and the central murder has resemblances to Nabokov's father's murder by an assassin who was trying to kill someone else.

Like many of Nabokov's fictions, Pale Fire has allusions to his other works. "Hurricane Lolita" is mentioned, and "Pnin" appears as a minor character. It is also full of references to other works of literature. It is therefore not surprising that in the succeeding decades after the book's publication, it became itself a point of reference for other writers. On page 441 of Salman Rushdie's 1988 book The Satanic Verses, the character Chamcha quotes a line from Pale Fire: "My Darling, God makes hungry, the Devil thirsty." Kate Elizabeth Russell's My Dark Vanessa (2020) refers to Pale Fire, specifically lines 269–274, when Vanessa's teacher/abuser shows this stanza to her, calling her "my dark Vanessa" as in Shade's poem (= "Come and be worshiped, come and be caressed, / My dark Vanessa, crimson-barred, my blest).

Pale Fire has stood the test of time and continues to fascinate readers and scholars up to this day. I certainly want to reread it when I'm older, and hopefully more wiser. I'll definitely keep Nabokov's own interpretation (that Botkin is Kinbote) in mind then, maybe it will open some doors for me. But for now, I will let this rest.

اشعار جالبی داره این کتاب ، خود کتاب و اشعار تقریبا ۱۵۰ صفحه هستند و باقی تفسیر هست ، ترجمه هم معمولی است.

Video review: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ejtaj...
Featured in my Top 20 Books I Read in 2017

The most elegant literary experiment I've ever read (and sister, I've read my fair share); possibly the best too.

I am resisting this unmistakable urge to write the review in the form of a poem supplemented with annotations. I would really like it but it just feels rather too obvious, and mind you, better reviewers than I have done it. s.penkevich and Manny Rayner have done marvelous jobs at it and so it is with a heavy heart that I have decided, with complete control over my faculties, to write a rap song called “Flameboi” instead (with four verses, 24 lines) complete with commentary from one of my dearest friends. If you’re wondering what sort of beat there is to the rap, imagine any rap beat in your head and you’re probably right. (This is more of a tribute to my lyricism skills, my rhymes being able to stand up to any beat, than a failure on my part to come up with a suitable score.)


Flameboi by JR

There once was a fat king reading pale fire
He ruled a kingdom placed on a quagmire
A haughty vignette of a tortoise force
Built a crescendo of giggle in course
So he broke down and cried hoo-hoo hoo-hoo
6 And thus was heard a great hullabaloo

Titillating Prometheus gave quack
And lifted a woman who made shingles
When Pandora was turning her back
So King Otis ate some classic Pringles
Whapack Whapack goodreads aint got yo back
12 In the end Amazon came and swooped jack

Thus is the life of a corporate hack
No King Otis, Amazon guys in black
Alas moolah was had and made five star
Tomorrow is like a greedy lemon
Who cares about reputation in mar?
18 Celebrate vile and be Agamemnon

Reading will be a constant to all folk
But pseudo-weird reviews is hard to come by
So this trash was made to spiff King Otis
Yall geeks need to chill oh my bye bye
Before I go, write what you want, true sire
24 Read your kindle fire that book called Pale Fire

(The chorus is going to be borrowed from Miranda Lambert's new pop song You Can't Ride My Little Red Wagon which I think forbids normal people from riding little firetrucks.)


Commentary by Otis Chandler*

Line 1 “fat king”: He’s probably thinking of Burger King customers. Lots of obese people wear paper crowns in that establishment. I like eating there.

Line 2 “kingdom placed on a quagmire”: That’s probably the sort of situation one can also call being “in a pickle.” I don’t eat pickles cause I like meat, especially burgers.

Line 3-4 “haughty vignette of a tortoise force”& “built a crescendo of giggle in course”: This can mean a lot of things but in my opinion I think he’s saying that slow people, probably those who eat too much burgers, when you watch them it makes you laugh. I saw JR laugh quite a few times while he read this book though.**

Line 6 “and thus was heard a great hullabaloo”: JR says that laughing at slow people isn’t a nice to thing to do, so I guess those who laughed at slow people were reprimanded and taught a lesson. Maybe they were fed less burgers.

Line 7 “Prometheus”: Is that a movie? I’m not sure. It might be the name of one of my friends’ friend. It’s really familiar.

Line 8 “lifted a woman”: I guess it’s the latter one. He got under a lady. Maybe he smelled a burger underneath her.

Line 9 “Pandora”: It’s definitely mobile radio. I listen to rap there but sometimes they play Nikki Minaj, which gives me a headache. I don’t like her songs.

Line 10: “King Otis, ate some classic Pringles”: Ohh, that’s me!! I’m king!! I like classic Pringles, but I like burgers more.

Line 12: “Amazon came and swooped jack”: It’s the Latina girls?? They always make me uncomfortable. They are lovely like Shakira but sometimes they make me anxious about myself and how good a boy I am.

Line 13-14: “corporate hack” & “No King Otis, Amazon guys in black”: This is about the black boyfriends of Latinas being better office workers than I am even though I’m the King. It’s okay, I don’t like desk jobs. I work security.

Line 15: “moolah was had and made five star”: Money is very good. Yes, because it can buy me burgers.

Line 18: “Agamemnon”: I think this is the dude who committed suicide*** because of this other dude named Troy. I think it has something to do with horses.

Line 20: “pseudo-weird reviews”: I’m writing this for a review, right? So I guess it’s kind of weird, but hey, JR says I’ll get a burger out of it later. I hope you like it. I think our agreement goes something like this – more likes, more burgers – please like this for me. I really really like burgers.

Line 21: “trash was made to spiff King Otis”: Hmmm. I’m confused?? I like trash so I don’t get why they would say it would spiff me. Sometimes you get leftover burgers from the trash if you look in the right places.

Line 24: “Read your kindle fire that book called Pale Fire”: This was the book called Pale Fire**** that JR was reading in his Kindle. I think this book is about me and about burgers because that’s what the rap is about. Maybe slow cooking burgers or something like that.


Index:

*Otis Chandler is the name of my dog. He’s a literate black pit-bull with deep appreciation for rap music. He wags his tail to the likes of Jay-Z, The Black-Eyed Peas, Macklemore & Ryan Lewis, the Beastie Boys, Gorillaz, and Kendrick Lamar. He barks with outrage whenever he hears Nikki Minaj.

**Of this entire ultranovel, there was this one scene that really made an impact on me comically. This drove me into a 5-minute nonstop glorious peal of laughter. Here it is in its full-unadulterated glory for your mirth and my vindication:

“When the Zemblan Revolution broke out, she wrote the King a wild letter in governess English, urging him to come up and stay with her until the situation cleared up. The letter was intercepted by the Onhava police, translated into crude Zemblan by a Hindu member of the Extremist party, and then read aloud to the royal captive in a would-be ironic voice by the preposterous commandant of the palace. There happened to be in that letter one – only one, thank God – sentimental sentence: ‘I want you to know that no matter how much you hurt me, you cannot hurt my love,’ and this sentence (if we re-English it from the Zemblan) came out as: ‘I desire you and love when you flog me.’ He interrupted the commandant, calling him a buffoon and a rogue, and insulting everybody around so dreadfully that the Extremists had to decide fast whether to shoot him at once or let him have the original letter.”

***One of my favorite little portions in this proportioned-portionfest talks about suicide which seems much like a pamphlet that lists the suitable methods to go about killing one’s self. Shoot-self = for men. Pills = for women. Suffocation = Sissies. Wrist-Cutting = pisswads, illiterate. Jump from bridge = record divers or police sympathizers. Jump from tower = pedestrian hater. Jump from mountain = toboggan lover. Jump from plane = awesome. It’s kind of like a theological efficiency list on your life. This dark humor is getting to my funny-bone alright.

****I loved this biformature or novel or whatever this is by Vladimir Nabokov. This is a reading experience of a different kind. I had a wide grin most of the way, well not during the cantos, alright maybe a phrase or two there, but I had tons of fun throughout. This dark comedy and satire on literary criticism and literary allusions is one of the most creative works of genius I have ever read. The form is such a clever machination on Nabokov’s part divided into foreword, poem, and commentary but really is just an amazing form of virtuoso storytelling. His ability to pin down such exact words for his contexts is still staggering to read. And while the story is such a revelation, the verses are also beautiful in their entirety. The ethereal subject of a man’s reverie looking beyond the abyss due to the ramifications of his beloved’s transience is beyond moving. The juxtaposition of something so gripping and serious with something so darkly comical made for an interesting read that never fails to take your attention. Although, I would say that this is also the reason why I didn’t give it the coveted five stars. The steady flow that is necessary for a novel to achieve rhythm and traction is naturally disrupted by the book’s unique structure. Thus it sacrificed one key element to excel in another. I adore this bold move by Nabokov, but ultimately this is also the book’s shortcoming. Nonetheless, this is an amazing book that should definitely be experienced by those who love great literature. Ahhh that was deliciously good.


Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go feed my dog.

Il re, il poeta e l'assassino

“l’if, per noi se, l’albero senza vita! il tuo gran
forse, Rabelais: the grand potato, e cioè peut-être.
La S.P.E., Scuola (S) laica di Preparazione (P)
all’Eternità (E), da noi detta anche Se
- il grande se! -, mi chiamò per un trimestre,
dovevo parlare della morte (“far lezione sul Verme”
come scrisse il Rettore magnifico McAber).”*

*“Il buon gusto e le leggi di diffamazione a mezzo stampa mi impediscono di svelare il vero nome della rispettabile scuola di perfezionamento in epistemologia che il nostro poeta schernisce con estroso piacere in questo canto. La prima e l’ultima lettera dell’acronimo, S ed E, offrono agli studiosi l’abbreviazione Se, su cui Shade costruisce la sua parodia. L’Istituto si trova in un luogo molto ameno di uno Stato del sudovest che qui deve rimanere anonimo. Ritengo inoltre mio dovere osservare che deploro recisamente l’impertinenza con la quale il nostro poeta tratta, in questo canto, alcuni aspetti di una speranza spirituale che la religione, ed essa sola, può appagare”.

Charles il Beneamato è il re di Zembla, remota contrada nordica, luogo di pace, armonia, eleganza; in russo vuol dire “terra nuova”. Arriva la rivoluzione ed egli è costretto all'esilio e, grazie a magici assistenti, approda a New Wye, negli Appalachi, nelle vesti dello studioso Charles Kinbote, assunto dalla locale università e vicino di casa dell'amato poeta John Shade (sfumatura, ombra e molto altro), al quale suggerisce, tra ispirazione e falsificazione, di narrare in versi la sua storia di nobile nascita, persecuzione e fuga; ma egli il suo canto riserva ad altre storie, trasportato dal dolore personale di una vita sepolta e vittima solo di un destino ineffabile, così racconterà altre vicende, tradendo la missione profetica ma al tempo stesso rispecchiando lo spirito alchemico e filosofico della saga regale. Nel mentre, insegue le liriche passeggiate dei due amici una spia di regime, uno spietato sicario, Gradus o James Gray (grigio, vedi il rapporto di Nabokov con i colori), in viaggio per mezzo mondo fino a giungere a quella sperduta e raminga Arcadia, un campus dove la conoscenza e la poesia sposano il gioco verbale e lo sgomento metafisico. Qui darà vita a una sorta di nemesi, a una vendetta mimetica nella quale il poeta è il sacrificio. È metaletterario il testo nabokoviano, quasi superfluo specificarlo, e in maniera antinarcisistica autobiografico (vedi le vicende del padre di Vladimir); ed è soprattutto un insieme di immaginazione e illusione, di parodia e scandalo filologico. Non c'è tema letterario e umano che non attraversi queste pagine, splendidamente musicali e follemente ipnotiche. Infanzia, amore, amicizia, memoria, seduzione, smarrimento, sofferenza, aldilà, lutto. Attraente e esatta la definizione di Mary McCarthy: "una creazione di perfetta bellezza, simmetria, stranezza, originalità e verità morale". Scrive Nabokov parole e pagine nel nulla nero-sangue, che sono “cellule intrecciate dentro un unico stelo". Il titolo giunge da un verso del Timone d'Atene di Shakeaspeare (IV, III, vv. 44 e sg.): “La luna è una ladra vagabonda, che sottrae dal sole il suo pallido fuoco”. E il lettore si osserva e si guarda dentro gli alter-ego della storia e si sente per un bagliore crepuscolare semiuomo, semipazzo, nel tentativo comune all'autore-critico-inseguitore di continuare a esistere.

“La vita eterna basata su un refuso! Rimuginavo guidando verso casa: capire l'antifona, smettere di indagare sull'abisso? Ma d'un tratto intuii che era questo l'essenziale, il tema in contrappunto; solo questo: non il testo, ma la sua tessitura; non il sogno, ma la coincidenza capovolta, non il vano senso, ma una rete di senso”.

Death is the termination of all biological functions that sustain a living organism*. Is that it? No! It is an eternal loss of a lively soul; a sudden departure from the precious present; an endless termination of familial bonds. Nothing can affect anyone more than a death in one’s family, especially a life purloined from us before its time. Such is the memory misery of our poor, dear poet Mr.Shade, the father of the departed bride, Hazel!

“For we die every day; oblivion thrives
Not on dry thighbones but on blood-ripe lives,
And our best yesterdays are now foul piles
Of crumpled names, phone numbers and foxed files.” [Canto 3]

Pale Fire is arguably the best book of Vladimir Nabokov. It is not easy to resist losing ourselves in the magical word play of Nabokov. To talk about it, this one opens up with a 999-liner poem in 4 cantos followed by detailed commentary of the man, the narrator, who tried saving its maker – the poet Shade. The poem takes us through an emotional musings and lugubrious reflections on his past: What starts like an impeccable portrait of spellbinding mother nature and an illustrious profile of father time (it is good to associate Nature and Time like this. Isn’t it? Credit goes to Nabokov) soon turns out to be a painted parchment in an artistic cage echoed with sonorous memories.

The poem brims with disconsolate descriptions of the lost daughter and his missive meditations on after-life. Distant events and obsolete objects bring back the vivid memories of the loving victim of the vertiginous misfortune. The mirrors don’t smile at him anymore. The lights don’t brighten his day. A dark cage with parchments of memory is what his life turned into. The growing pains have become permanent dysfunctions.

“My God died young. Theolatry I found
Degrading, and its premises, unsound.
No free man needs a God; but was I free?
How fully I felt nature glued to me…” [Canto 1]

What is the use of faith for a father who lost his precious princess? His faith fades away. The wonder lingers and the shame remains. A new friend arrives…


A king, Mr.Kinbote, after making a surreal escape through a hidden door from a closet-like coupe, befriends the poet and entrusts him with the events his princely adventures, kingly misfortunes, and masterly escapes. His desire to make this eminent poet Shade write about him tantalized him. But he is not alone. Somewhere on the other side of the world, someone is embarking on a journey with a loaded pistol with a plan of regicide. So, here they are: A king who lost his country, A poet who lost his daughter, and A man who has nothing to lose, converging in this cathartic work of an impeccable poet. Will there be another death? A death brings only another death. Here is Kinbote relating his life to this posthumous work and contemplating and writing elaborate commentaries…

* - Source:Wiki