I fell in love with Nabokov's style in Lolita but hated the story, so I'm torn. The answer? His short stories. Many of them are an absolute joy to read for a writer, perfection in style and pacing. A must read in my opinion for any writer wanting to write short stories. This will probably always be an book I'm reading rather a "read" book, as it is so worth re-reading and re-reading. If you haven't read any of his short stories, "Signs and Symbols" is where to begin. As I write this (21 February 2013) the New Yorker has "Signs and Symbols" available to read online at http://www.newyorker.com/archive/1948... .

It's quite possibly the best short story ever written, which is not just my opinion, but that of many.

Another must read is "The Potato Elf," a dwarf love story.

A famous Nabokov quote about writing: "Caress the detail, the divine detail."

And another: "I think it is all a matter of love: the more you love a memory, S,the stronger and stranger it is."

Robert Burns
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Vladimir Nabokov is most known for his novel, "Lolita", which is a good thing because it's one of the greatest books ever written but the hurricane of mixed emotions that it stirred up created a cloud of obscurity that kind of blurred anything else he wrote. People assumed that he was very immoral, and that "Lolita" was all that he was about. The people that are under that impression should read this collection of short stories and then smack themselves for making such assumptions. Nabokov is one of the most diverse writers of our time. A lot of his classics were written in english, did I mention that english was his second language? Nabokov's storytelling ability is second to none. Every one of these short stories from "Revenge" to "Terror" brings something new to the table. I put Nabokov right up there with Hemingway as one of the greatest writers of all time, and this collection of short stories will surely prove to you why.

This, and much more, she accepted - for after all living did mean accepting the loss of one joy after another, not even joys in her case – mere possibilities of improvement. She thought of the endless waves of pain that for some reason or other she and her husband had to endure; of the invisible giants hurting her boy in some unimaginable fashion; of the incalculable amount of tenderness contained in the world; of the fate of this tenderness, which is either crushed, or wasted, or transformed into madness; of neglected children humming to themselves in unswept corners; of beautiful weeds that cannot hide from the farmer and helplessly have to watch the shadow of his simian stoop leave mangled flowers in its wake, as the monstrous darkness approaches.



Sublime, sprightly, brilliant – returning to Nabokov again, I am tripping over superlatives. Further thoughts to come.

tAs I was reading The Stories of Vladimir Nabokov, more than 600 pages of them, I had to set aside what I already knew of his colossal literary achievements to better appreciate how they came to be, how long he spent publishing his work in tiny emigre newspapers, how little he was appreciated before Lolita and Pale Fire were published, two books that made him impossible to ignore.
tHe had many literary friends and admirers throughout his career, of course. Perhaps the most famous, and famously arrogant, was Edmund Wilson, a man of letters equal to Nabokov in many ways but not, as he stupidly insisted, in his knowledge of the Russian language.
tBut the fact is that Nabokov’s own stories tell the tale of his melancholy moments in Europe—especially in Berlin—better than a deservedly proud man would like to tell them directly, in his own voice.
tHe wrote about lots and lots of losers, losers who missed their main chance at love, a career, exotic travel, a good friendship. And he wrote about lots of romantics who yearned for the kind of explosive aesthetic revelation that only a master like Nabokov could really concoct.
tI don’t see any point in retelling any of the dozens of stories in this volume. They’re there to be read, not summarized. Early in his career Nabokov clearly had some Chekhov in him. As he hit stride, one senses an affinity for Turgenev. Someone like Dostoevsky would have appalled him, only to be treated with comedy. Tolstoy? Well, Tolstoy did have that drop-dead lucidity about him; the problem with him, though, was that like Dostoevsky, Tolstoy became a devout moralist and refused to do what Nabokov consistently did—use his powers to transcend the little good and bad distinctions and glory in the pure beauty of life observed and described for and of itself.
tAt one point in these stories a character is dismissed because he relates to the world through feelings, not concrete, scientific assessment. Here’s a key to Nabokov. He was an expert lepidopterist (butterfly expert), and as such he was more exacting and precise than mere feelings permit. That’s where his famous—almost unbelievable—style explodes on the page; he captures tiny, intriguing details and fits them within a kind of narrative nomenclature that doesn’t really require plot. The thing is the thing. It was self-evident to Nabokov that demonstrable existence—the existence of clouds, of rain, of trams, of long flabby chins, of self-pity, of lies—possesses an inherent aesthetic thrill that required no trumped-up metaphysical, moral or religious justification. All he had to do was find the right words and fit them into the right moments, and voila, a story was born.
tThese days we hear over and over again “show, don’t tell.” It’s so boring, and it’s so wrong. Nabokov told plenty of tales, he summarized, he leaped forward in time, he sniggered, he forced the reader to agree, the woman was beautiful, the man was doomed.
tWhat Nabokov could not abide, says his son in the introduction to this volume, was cruelty. I found that an interesting revelation. In fact, there is everything in Nabokov except cruelty, or its endorsement. This matches well with his need for aesthetic freedom. He simply avoided certain subjects without, I must say, failing to belittle the dolts who stole Russia from him.
tThe other major man of letters who has taken a similar position on cruelty is the philosopher Richard Rorty. He recognizes that it is difficult not to be cruel by accident or unintentionally, but he insists this is the great human project: to imagine human experience devoid of cruelty. Realistic? No, but if you have Nabokov’s talent, you can still make the proposition believable.

Like many of the reviewers here, I made my way through this collection by reading 1 or 2 stories a day. It took a long time, but otherwise I think it would just be too much to deal with - better in small doses! The writing is exquisite - Nabokov is a genius with language, no doubt. Having every story in one volume and placing them in chronological order sometimes led to long stretches of 'sameness', which doesn't really highlight his great versatility. Maybe a curated selection would have been better, but I definitely don't regret picking this up. Nabokov's personality and sharp sense of humor certainly shine through. I confess a particular fondness for 'Tyrants Destroyed' (no particular reason...).

Every time I read something of Nabokov's, I'm simultaneously humbled and awed. I can't even begin to describe how much I love these stories, how much I love Nabokov the writer (although reading Strong Opinions, his collection of essays and interviews, makes me respect him as a person as well), and how much reading his words makes me love language all the more. My god, the man was a genius. I will be reading and rereading these stories for a very long time to come. They are definitely meant to be savored, preferably in front of a roaring fire with a good glass of wine.

The man - really full of himself - at one with the world - but at the same time lacking in empathy for his fellows.

I realized that eveything in the world was an interplay of identical particles comprising different kinds of consonance: the trees, the water, you...All was unified, equivalent, divine.

and

I had once been splintered into a million beings and objects. Today I am one: tomorrow I shall splinter again.

Nabokov waxes lyrical on nature but I admired best his economy when describing the last interaction he had with his lover. That bit, few words, elegant execution.



Merged review:

This was strange, I have not got the words but it has me thinking about it since I read it. It was almost like they had a pet.

Is keeping someone jailed us trying to control the 'bad' out there, as if by jailing we feel safe from the badness out there - false safety.

But it's not only other men we jail we also jail animals and call them pets or zoos - is that us trying to control 'uncontrollable' nature?

And who is the jailed and who is the jailor? - because the jailed cannot be left alone so the jailor is in fact jailed to him like Martin is.



Merged review:

I like the language, the words. It's full of loss, sorrow, need. It kind of reminded me of The Faithful Gardener: A Wise Tale About That Which Can Never Die.

There was a bit at the begining of the story where instead of seeing the sprite he saw a man who was wearing a wrongly buttoned coat, buttoned up the feminine way he said. Wonder what that means.

Merged review:

A slice of sorrow topped with that strange chaotic kaleidoscope of how we see the world around us when sorrow, pain, rips away all our feelings and nothing has worth any more, nothing is beautiful, we can no longer care.

Wonderful reading the progression of Nabokov's life through his stories. I will be a fan of him always.

Nửa đầu của tuyển tập truyện ngắn này, thú thật là mình chỉ thấy thích (phải nói là cực thích :D) và ấn tượng có mỗi truyện "Một truyện đồng thoại", còn lại thì đọc kiểu cho qua chữ chứ chả hiểu (và vì thế cũng chả nhớ) gì mấy. Cơ mà nửa sau của quyển sách, kể từ truyện "Hành khách" trở đi, thì ôi thôi phải nói là hay tuyệt cú mèo. Nhờ vậy mới cho cuốn này 4 sao :)) Thích nhất là những truyện "Hành khách", "Mỹ nhân Nga", "Cảnh đời một quái vật kép", "Chị em nhà Vane", "Mối tình đầu" và "Mưa Phục sinh" (ôi chà, mình thích nhiều thế nhỉ? :D).

Theo lời nhà xuất bản thì đây mới chỉ là quyển 1 trong số 4 quyển thuộc Tổng Tập Truyện Ngắn Nabokov, dự kiến hoàn thành trong vòng 3 năm. Mình sẵn sàng bỏ tiền ra mua 3 quyển còn lại, miễn là nó hay được như (hoặc hơn) quyển này :D

For better dreams: Eat one slice before bedtime.

I was very sorry to finish this. In an ideal world I'd have a new Nabokov short story to read every day. The stories are arranged chronologically so you get a real sense of the growing complexities of the challenges he set himself as a writer. It's his novels that are important. These stories are like watching a virtuoso dancer hone his genius in front of mirrors.

I'm mostly locked out of my account and can't make comments anywhere on the site so apologise for being unable to answer any compliment or criticism levelled at my reviews.

No es Nabokov un especialista del cuento. No es su vehículo favorito. Y sin embargo, uno se quita el sombrero.

He disfrutado los más de sesenta cuentos, destaco mis preferidos:

"Signo y símbolos", el mejor en mi opinión. Lo leí luego en inglés y me llevé de regalo aliteraciones.

Me he encariñado mucho con "Batir de alas", un cuento temprano que tiene tantos elementos notables que lo tuve que desmenuzar muchas veces.

"Aureliana" es la historia de un vendedor de mariposas.

"Amaro" es una delicatesen romántica sobre la infancia.

"En memoria de L.I.Shigaev", un descenso a los demonios.

"La mala noticia" me conmovió.

"Lik", la historia de un actor de provincias.

Maestro Nabokov.