5min book review #20

“Transparent things, through which the past shines!” A few personal notes on seven of Nabokov’s books

“And when he went to bed and listened to the trains passing through that cheerless house in which lived several Russian lost shades, the whole of life seemed like a piece of film-making where heedless extras knew nothing of the picture in which they were taking part.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, Mary

1926 — Mary (org. Russian, Berlin period)

1930 — The Eye (org. Russian, Berlin period)

1932 — Glory (org. Russian, Berlin period)

1939 — The Enchanter (org. Russian, France period)

1941 — The Real Life of Sebastian Knight (org. English, American period)

1947 — Bend Sinister (org. English, American period)

1974 — Transparent Things (org. English, Montreux period)

More than 5 sentences about more than 5 books

To celebrate the release of the new translation of Transparent Things, I revisited and reread some of Nabokov’s books. My selection criteria were quite simple: I chose books where I had already forgotten the plot, characters, and the overall reading experience and atmosphere.

I’ve been collecting Czech translations of Nabokov’s works for 20 years, particularly cherishing the beautiful editions by the Czech publisher Paseka and the translations by Pavel Dominik.

My assessment of books is applicable only within the scope and context of the books presented here.

• Transparent Things — The brief novel (around one hundred pages) narrates the tale of Hugh Person, an American literary editor and proofreader, and his four journeys to and from Switzerland spanning almost two decades. Beneath the fragile facade of the present moment — transparent things — lies a profound past worth exploring, as it ripples with numerous possibilities, shapes, and complexities. Nabokov engages in a play with characters (Person = person) and genre; his main character undergoes an “existential state” transformation through the artistic skill of the author, much like in Bend Sinister, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight, or The Eye. After reading, I had the sense that I needed to revisit it one more time, someday. (7/10)
• The Real Life of Sebastian Knight — The brief novel (around one hundred fifty pages). The Real Life of Sebastian Knight marks Vladimir Nabokov’s debut in the English language. It was written from late 1938 to early 1939 in Paris and first published in 1941. Nabokov is playing with detective stories again, and we follow the narrator, V., who is busy writing his first book — a biography of his half-brother, the Russian-born English novelist Sebastian Knight. Upon re-reading, I was pleasantly surprised to find the book superior; I read it joyfully and briskly. I appreciate how Nabokov subtly and implicitly establishes a pact with the reader. The visually resembling detective story is, in fact, a profound and ironic exploration of identity. This quest is uncertain, filled with multiple meanings, and punctuated by the author’s ironic chuckle directed at the reader. Fun fact: In the Apple TV+ series “Lessons in Chemistry,” Madeline, the daughter of the main character Elisabeth Zott, mentions in episode 5 that The Real Life of Sebastian Knight is a pretty good book. (8/10)
• Bend Sinister — Oh, this book is fantastic! I had already forgotten how brilliant it is. The story happens in a made-up European city called Padukgrad. A new government rises, promoting “Ekwilism,” a philosophy that rejects individual differences and emphasizes the state as the main good in society. Adam Krug, the main character, just lost his wife to a failed surgery. Soon, he’s asked to give a speech to the new government’s leader, but he refuses. Nabokov’s characters and their behaviour evoke the spirit of Franz Kafka’s books. Paduk and his administration appear grotesque, reminiscent of Tim Burton movies, while the dystopian world parallels the setting of the game Dishonored 2 (Now you can observe how books reflect our own experiences as we interpret them and seek personal meaning within their pages). If Nabokov, in his comments on this book, asserts that the novel primarily focuses on the relationship between Krug and his son, for me, it was more about mourning and the breakdown of one’s inner world when a close person passes away. (10/10)
• The Eye — [Spoilers] At the beginning of the story, the unnamed main character commits suicide. His spirit, separated from the body, wanders the streets, creating his own reality. Suddenly, he becomes the narrator who observes the lives of the characters on Peacock Street. He becomes fixated on finding details about Smurnov, so he observes what the other characters think and talk about Smurnov. So this way the character of Smurnov is reflected in the lives of other characters. In the end, we learn that the narrator is Smurnov himself. While the writing is still wonderful, I didn’t enjoy this book as much as Bend Sinister or The Real Life of Sebastian Knight. Yes, the author’s style is brilliant, but the form seemed to prevail over content. I found it challenging to immerse myself deeply in the story, and I didn’t form any empathetic bonds with the narrator / main character. Fun fact: The story was also published in three parts in Playboy magazine in 1965. (6/10)
• The Enchanter — A very short novella (around 50 pages) written by Vladimir Nabokov in Paris in 1939, marking his last work of fiction written in Russian. Despite not being published during his lifetime, Nabokov’s son, Dmitri, translated the novella into English and published it in 1986. The story is essentially timeless and placeless. The unnamed protagonist is a middle-aged man who lusts after a certain type of adolescent girl, so the hebephilia of the protagonist is linked to and presages the Lolita theme. Due to the main character’s deviation and minimalist storyline, I was not able to empathize or, at least, connect with any of the characters and create any bonds with the created world. In a timeless and placeless “laboratory”, Nabokov performs “the anatomy” of the sick and obsessed mind, offering brilliant descriptions in a few places. However, for me, this is not enough to prevent the book from being considered merely a rarity, a precursor to Lolita. (5/10)
• Mary — [Spoilers] The novel centres around Lev Glebovich Ganin and fellow residents of a Berlin pension, all of whom are Russian immigrants. Ganin discovers that his neighbour’s wife, Mary, is none other than his first love, and her arrival is imminent in the next five days. The novel is built on the contrast between current and grey Berlin and past and colourful Russia in Ganin’s memories. Immersed in nostalgic reflections, our main character regains his zest for life and devises a plan to win Mary back. In the final moments, he realizes that his past life is a work of fiction, and with a hopeful gaze toward the future, he sets off for France. I cannot encapsulate the essence of the novel better than Kamila Chlupáčová, who crafted the following comprehensive summary: “The novel thematizes reminiscence (later returning practically with all of Nabokov’s protagonists) as the restoration of consciousness of one’s own values, as the resurrection of personality.” Nabokov’s debut novel provides an excellent reading experience. I particularly enjoyed passages where the narrator playfully describes the hostile pension space and the omnipresent trains that trespass “through windows and rooms across all the building”. Indeed, the memories of trains trespassing the building or the shadows of Berlin emigrants will linger in my memories. Fun fact: The novel is titled after the character Mary, who, although not actively present in the story, exists solely in Ganin’s memories. (8/10)
• Glory — Glory is often regarded as a collector’s gem intricately linked with another of Nabokov’s works, his memoir Speak, Memory. Unlike Entchanter or Eye, the book maintains an adequate epic length but lacks epic breadth. The narrative of Martin Edelweiss is linearly narrow, resembling a tube. I perceive the story of Martin Edelweiss as profoundly melancholic. Despite encountering numerous intriguing events and relationships, I am uncertain whether he truly lived these experiences to the fullest and grasped their significance. It seems that he was constantly propelled forward, never fully understanding what he truly desired from life. He acknowledged this deficit and attempted various approaches, such as risking climbing a rock in the Alps or making unplanned stops in Provence, to make a deep dive into life. I believe he was aware that he was missing out on truly living, always striving to live in the moment, even attempting to cross the Latvia-Soviet Russia border illegally. Nonetheless, it makes for a pleasant read that flows swiftly. (7/10)

PS: I revisited Transparent Things once more, and it didn’t quite make it to my list of top Nabokov works. In this novel, Nabokov’s narrator is omnipresent, whimsically engaging with the reader, disrupting the story’s flow at every turn, which irritated me considerably this time.