Λούζιν – losin’… Αυτή η συνεκδοχή μου τριβελίζει το κεφάλι σε όλο το ψυχικό ταξίδι που διένυσα σε αυτό το πλούσιο και πυκνό σε λέξεις και νοήματα βιβλίο.
Μέσα σε ένα ντουμάνι καπνισμένων και απωθημένων αισθημάτων και αισθήσεων, λαμβάνει χώρα η άμυνα του πρωταγωνιστή Λούζιν, που κοπιάζει και ματώνει για να αιχμαλωτίσει και να απομονώσει επιτέλους εκείνη τη μαγική κίνηση-κλειδί που θα έλυνε τον μεγάλο γρίφο της ύπαρξής του. Με φόντο την ασπρόμαυρη σκακιέρα, την πραγματική και φαντασιακή σκακιέρα που μια σαν τρικυμία σκάει τα επιθετικά της κύματα στο μυαλό του Λούζιν κι έπειτα το γαληνεύει με αρμονία σαν μια κλασική μουσική που χαϊδεύει και κατευνάζει μια ψυχή που υποφέρει τα πιο ανυπόφερτα πάθη. Η σκακιέρα, μια κινούμενη άμμος που τον ρουφούσε αναπόδραστα στα τρίσβαθά της, δεν του άφηνε περιθώριο κι επιλογή να αρπάξει την ίδια τη ζωή. Όλοι προσπαθούν να τον αδράξουν και τους ξεφεύγει όπως το νερό βρίσκει εύκολα δίοδο ανάμεσα στα βότσαλα για να χαθεί στο στομάχι της γης. Η γυναίκα του, που με φαντάστηκα εύκολα στη θέση της - θα μπορούσα να τον είχα διαλέξει κι εγώ αυτόν τον τύπο για την όχι τόσο προφανή στο ευρύ κοινό γοητεία του - τον νταντεύει, τον κανακεύει όπως θα φερόταν κανείς σε ένα παιδί, με την ελπίδα να τον προστατεύσει από το μοιραίο κακό που ενσαρκώνεται σε μια σκακιέρα· μάταια όμως. Η μυρμηγκιά που δημιουργήθηκε στο μυαλό του, έχει από χρόνια απλώσει τα τριχοειδή της αγγεία στο σώμα και το νου του, που μάταια πια αναζητά να γητευτεί. Η σκακιστική δεξιοτεχνία του Λούζιν να σκεφτεί τις πιο ευφάνταστες και νικηφόρες κινήσεις γίνεται αντιστρόφως ανάλογη με την επιστράτευση των δυνάμεών του να σώσει την παρτίδα της ύπαρξής του.
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Ένα πανέξυπνο και γοητευτικό βιβλίο που εγκαινιάζει την επαφή μου με τον Ναμπόκοφ, ο οποίος με κέρδισε ολοκληρωτικά με το βάθος, το ύψος και το πλάτος των σεναριακών του συλλήψεων· το διάβασα αργά, σαν ένα καλό μπράντι, για να συλλάβω ό,τι εμπεριέχεται ανάμεσα στις γραμμές, και ήταν πολλά αυτά. Ευχαριστώ έναν φίλο από δω μέσα γι’ αυτή την πρόταση.

O carte care m-a citit. Am regăsit maniera lucida, tăioasa, rece de povestitor maniacal a lui Nabokov, de acum nu îmi trebuie mai mult, de acum numai contest postura maestrului rus atunci când uneori mai falseaza.
Chipul faustic, mortuar și de neînțeles a jucătorului de șah alienat, mă va urmări pretutindeni.
Un alt roman dostoievskian a lui Nabokov, dar mai complet decât dedublarea protagonistului din Disperare.
Un erou complet, concis, ferm și resemnat, o demonstrație plauzibila și o încântare maximă în preajma lui Lujin, care își pune ștreangul de gât zâmbind, deasupra cupolei lumii, încadrate sub o tablă de șah a veșniciei.

Η ιστορία του Λουζιν ξεκινάει από μικρή ηλικία που δείχνει οτι δε του πάει και πολύ η ζωή, είναι μελαγχολικός, δεν έχει ενδιαφέροντα και φίλους, απλά τριγυρνάει και αναπνέει. (ταύτιση)
Αυτό μέχρι να έρθει σε επαφή με το σκάκι, οπου ξεκινάει μια ιστορία αγάπης μεγαλύτερη απ'της Ρούλας και του Φραν και καταλήγει σε εμμονή. Ο τύπος ο,τι δεν έχει να κάνει με το σκάκι απλά αδιαφορεί. Θεός, θα μου πείτε, και συμφωνώ ναι μεν, αλλά. Το βιβλίο δεν έχει κάποια ιδιαίτερη πλοκή, αλλά ο χαρακτήρας του Λουζιν είναι ένας λόγος να το διαβάσει κάποιος, ειδικά αν ασχολείται με το σκάκι. Όπως είχε γράψει και ο Κασπάροβ, "η ζωή μιμείται το σκάκι". Ο Λουζιν εγκρίνει.

After reading Lolita, I knew that I'd need another book to feed my new addiction to Nabokov. Something I could read over and over. Something with his deliciously clever writing, minus the pedophilia. I had high hopes for The Defense and I enjoyed the book, but didn't quite find what I was looking for. I'm not sure if some of his writing genius was lost in translation, it was written in Russian then translated to English, or if it was simply that in the 25 years spanning the works he became a better author. Either way, while some of his talent for word smithing is there, it holds only a pale fire to Lolita.

The theme of the book adds to the stereotype that Russians are obsessed with chess. To it's credit though, The Defense makes a solid case for why such an obsession might be rational. Despite the game being the protagonist Luzhin's demise, it is presented as such a fascinating contest that I couldn't help but to break out a chess set and see if I didn't have the potential for grandmastery myself. I got a little ego boost by cleanly drubbing my 7 year old, but it came with the distinct feeling that I should confine my forays into chess to the literary realm.

For Luzhin, a guy who probably organizes his closet chronologically by purchase date, chess is more than a game. It becomes his life, it consumes him to the point where not even his devoted, Middlemarchian wife can rescue him from the obsession. Some of the best writing in the book describes his complete absorption in the game:

Luzhin, preparing an attack for which it was first necessary to explore a maze of variations, where his every step aroused a perilous echo, began a long meditation: he needed, it seemed, to make one last prodigious effort and he would find the secret move leading to victory. Suddenly, something occurred outside his being, a scorching pain — and he let out a loud cry, shaking his hand stung by the flame of a match, which he had lit and forgotten to apply to his cigarette. The pain immediately passed, but in the fiery gap he had seen something unbearably awesome, the full horror of the abysmal depths of chess. He glanced at the chessboard and his brain wilted from hitherto unprecedented weariness. But the chessmen were pitiless, they held and absorbed him. There was horror in this, but in this also was the sole harmony, for what else exists in the world besides chess? Fog, the unknown, non-being...

And later, maybe my favorite paragraph of the book comes when Luzhin is descending back into his affliction. This is where the writing in The Defense seems to come closest to Lolita:

But the next move was prepared very slowly. The lull continued for two or three days; Luzhin was photographed for his passport, and the photographer took him by the chin, turned his face slightly to one side, asked him to open his mouth wide and drilled his tooth with a tense buzzing. The buzzing ceased, the dentist looked for something on a glass shelf, found it, rubber-stamped Luzhin's passport and wrote with lightning-quick movements of the pen. 'There,' he said, handing over a document on which two rows of teeth were drawn, and two teeth bore inked-in little crosses. There was nothing suspicious in all this and the cunning lull continued until Thursday. And on Thursday, Luzhin understood everything.

It's a good book. It's not what I hoped for from Nabokov, but for almost any other author it'd be a summit.

Oh, and if you'd like to read the book without knowing the entire plot first, do NOT read Nabokov's introduction. Without warning he gives away all of the major turns in the book then casually reveals the ending to top it off.

Genio e follia spesso vanno a braccetto e per vincere la partita più importante il buon Luzin mette in atto la difesa perfetta.
Drammatico e delicato, a tratti grottesco, scritto con la solita penna di Nabokov, capace di descrivere persino il nulla in modo divino.

Ma gli scacchi erano implacabili, lo tenevano, lo tiravano. C'era orrore, in tutto questo, ma anche un'armonia unica, poiché cos'altro c'è al mondo se non scacchi? La nebbia, l'ignoto, il nulla...

Anche il ricordo tornava vuoto, e, forse per la prima volta in tutta la vita, Lužin si pose la domanda: dov'era andato esattamente a finire tutto ciò, che n'era stato della sua infanzia, dove se n'era volata la veranda, dove se n'erano strisciati via, frusciando tra i cespugli, i familiari sentieri?

Ogni futuro è ignoto, ma a volte assume una nebulosità particolare, come se altre forze venissero in soccorso alla naturale riluttanza del destino, spargendo un'elastica caligine contro la quale il pensiero rimbalza.

Глибокий роман про самотність. Головний герой намагається вибудувати свої стосунки зі світом, що відчувається як чужий та вородий. Єдиними зрозумілими йому координатами для існування є шахи. Нема шахової дошки - нема координат - нема життя.

Звичайно, в романі є любов. Класична для російської літератури - жертовна, незрозуміла, "з надривом" та "загадковістю". Стосунки, яку психологи називають хворобливими та залежними. Хочеш будувати нормальне особисте життя - читай російську класику, та роби навпаки.

І є російська еміграція - декоративна, галаслива, та дуже набоківська.
Словом, рекомендую для любителів класики, стосунків та хорошої літератури.

Not as impressive as Lolita, but still a solid read. Mostly, I was bored and confused with the direction of the plot. Well, almost non-existent plot. Luzhin is supposed to be compelling and intriguing, but he's non of the above. Also, the ending isn't even nearly satisfying and I feel like I'm left hanging.

This is a story about an obsessed chess player who doesn't distinguish reality from imagination. Basically, the plot deals with the story of a genius, whose perception of life entwines with chess strategy. There were some inconsistent time jumps that weren't explained properly and it bugged me, like the way narrative jumped sixteen years in a single paragraph.

The story had so much potential because of the captivating topic, but the delivery was average and prosaic. Most of the characters are flat, plastic and lifeless. The narrative of The Defense drags to unnecessary lengths without any direction nor endgame. Between ridiculously long description of interior decorating and questionable parenting, there is a semi-interesting plot hidden deeply into a bit overdramatic obsession.

Luzhin stumbles through the novel like he's autistic. He's constantly falling over the breaking line by trying to solve an impossible chess problem. Also, he's useless as a human being in general. He has no real purpose in this world nor to people around him. He's like a vegetable. Chess is his life, it consumes him to the point where not even his "devoted" wife can rescue him. He's a two-dimensional character with no redeeming quality.

Mrs. Luzhin doesn’t seem like a convincing spouse, not even close. I can't even remember her name if it was ever mentioned. She looks like a nurse or even as an overprotective mother, not a loving wife. There aren't any displays of emotion between them. I wonder if she's even attracted to Luzhin and vice versa.

Since he was born, Luzhin had a strenuous and downright weird relationship with relatives. His parents never even tried to get to know him, they only wanted to make him an upgraded version of themselves. They were DISAPPOINTED when he grew up to have his own personality. A bleak personality, though.

4.5 ⭐️

Tell me again why I’m not seeing tons of people who have just watched Queen’s Gambit and are now obsessed with chess are not picking up this beauty. Just as down as that series (and I assume the book). I loved it. Nabokov really can write the psyche of a man. Incredibly readable. So far this ranks high on the lesser-read Nabokov novels. And hey, he did write 2 of the 20 greatest novels ever. It’s ok it’s not Pale Fire. As I said with The Eye, more to come.

Non sono abbastanza bravo da commentare questo romanzo.
Fa parte di quella categoria di libri in cui la bellezza non sta nella trama, ma esclusivamente nella scrittura. Che scrittura!

Nabokov era davvero un autore incredibile. La narrazione procede non sempre in maniera lineare, ma sempre scorre con facilità. Una scorrevolezza però ricca di immagini, sensazioni, suggestioni, che riempiono il cervello.
Ad esempio, il capitolo sul torneo a Berlino è pazzesco, onirico e visionario. Seguito poi da un brano di brillante ironia.

Quando leggo commenti che elogiano lo stile di scrittura di un romanzo, spesso penso che possa essere un libro "freddo", elegante ma privo di emozioni.
Assolutamente non è questo il caso! Al contrario, la scrittura di Nabokov è ricca di umanità, una avvolgente rappresentazione di una vita.

Non gli ho messo le 5 stelle solo perché Lolita e, soprattutto, Fuoco pallido sono ancora meglio

Όπως ξέρουν να γράφουν μονάχα οι Γερμανοί και οι Ρώσοι κλασσικοί συγγραφείς

Es innegable el interés del autor por los personajes brillantes en su actividad pero sin habilidades sociales. Psicológica y con buenos golpes de humor.

"He still did not quite understand why this combination repetition inspired his soul with such dread."

A chess game that bleeds into real life--a chess game that blends into real life--a chess game that blots out real life--a chess game that turns into life--

Once more, Vladimir Nabokov proves able to achieve, with his inimitable elegance and subtlety, the supreme goal of storytellers: to tell a single story and make it mean a million things.