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A Bend in the River

V.S. Naipaul

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Customer Reviews:
Total reviews: 65 Average rating: 4.0 of 5

Nice, But It Should Have Been Better! 3 out of 5 stars.
1 of 5 people found this review helpful.

V.S. Naipaul's opening scenes of East Africa and his picturesque writings of life near the Falls falters at mid book and never adequately matures.

the Indian experience in Africa at the beginning of Big Man Rule 5 out of 5 stars.
1 of 2 people found this review helpful.

This is one of the best books I've read in the shortest number of pages. The sparse prose and spot on characters make this book a reflection of 60s Africa. The book doesn't delve too deep into the motivations of the characters but lets the reader make their own interpretations. It is fair to say that judgment is reserved, angst is evident and malaise is permeable.

Pessimistic Africa... 3 out of 5 stars.
1 of 2 people found this review helpful.

The first half is engaging, optimistic and full of potential. The second half is a slog, loses it's optimism and, takes too many side journeys that add nothing to the overall story.
Overall this leaves a rather pessimistic view of Africa.
Naipaul maintains location anonymity, giving a mildly Kafka-esque feel.
Worth reading, although I preferred Chinua Achebe's "Things Fall Apart".

Editorial Review:

In the "brilliant novel" (The New York Times) V.S. Naipaul takes us deeply into the life of one man—an Indian who, uprooted by the bloody tides of Third World history, has come to live in an isolated town at the bend of a great river in a newly independent African nation. Naipaul gives us the most convincing and disturbing vision yet of what happens in a place caught between the dangerously alluring modern world and its own tenacious past and traditions.

Lolita

Vladimir Nabokov

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Customer Reviews:
Total reviews: 448 Average rating: 4.5 of 5

Editorial Review:

Despite its lascivious reputation, the pleasures of Lolita are as much intellectual as erogenous. It is a love story with the power to raise both chuckles and eyebrows. Humbert Humbert is a European intellectual adrift in America, haunted by memories of a lost adolescent love. When he meets his ideal nymphet in the shape of 12-year-old Dolores Haze, he constructs an elaborate plot to seduce her, but first he must get rid of her mother. In spite of his diabolical wit, reality proves to be more slippery than Humbert's feverish fantasies, and Lolita refuses to conform to his image of the perfect lover.

Playfully perverse in form as well as content, riddled with puns and literary allusions, Nabokov's 1955 novel is a hymn to the Russian-born author's delight in his adopted language. Indeed, readers who want to probe all of its allusive nooks and crannies will need to consult the annotated edition. Lolita is undoubtedly, brazenly erotic, but the eroticism springs less from the "frail honey-hued shoulders ... the silky supple bare back" of little Lo than it does from the wantonly gorgeous prose that Humbert uses to recount his forbidden passion:

She was musical and apple-sweet ... Lola the bobby-soxer, devouring her immemorial fruit, singing through its juice ... and every movement she made, every shuffle and ripple, helped me to conceal and to improve the secret system of tactile correspondence between beast and beauty--between my gagged, bursting beast and the beauty of her dimpled body in its innocent cotton frock.

Much has been made of Lolita as metaphor, perhaps because the love affair at its heart is so troubling. Humbert represents the formal, educated Old World of Europe, while Lolita is America: ripening, beautiful, but not too bright and a little vulgar. Nabokov delights in exploring the intercourse between these cultures, and the passages where Humbert describes the suburbs and strip malls and motels of postwar America are filled with both attraction and repulsion, "those restaurants where the holy spirit of Huncan Dines had descended upon the cute paper napkins and cottage-cheese-crested salads." Yet however tempting the novel's symbolism may be, its chief delight--and power--lies in the character of Humbert Humbert. He, at least as he tells it, is no seedy skulker, no twisted destroyer of innocence. Instead, Nabokov's celebrated mouthpiece is erudite and witty, even at his most depraved. Humbert can't help it--linguistic jouissance is as important to him as the satisfaction of his arrested libido. --Simon Leake

A House for Mr. Biswas

V.S. Naipaul

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Customer Reviews:
Total reviews: 61 Average rating: 4.5 of 5

Some Novels Define Their Place and Time 5 out of 5 stars.
2 of 4 people found this review helpful.

A House for Mr. Biswas is such a novel, a depiction of a whole culture, the melted-pottage immigrant world of the Caribbean, with Biswas a synecdoche of post-colonial peoples everywhere. Such novels need to be big, both in their time frame and in number of pages. Don't expect them to cater to your cultural values or desires for diversion.

Mr Biswas, however, is very entertaining, one of the funniest novels I've ever read, and the last in which V.S. Naipaul allowed full freedom for his exuberant sense of humor and the picturesque. If you are too upright to find the poor and alienated a proper subject for satire, you might well find old Biswas more frustrating than touching. If so, I pity you. In this book and in his earlier Trinidadian novels, Naipaul wrote from the inside out, and it was chiefly himself than he was mocking. His later novels, great as some of them are, view their subjects from the outside, from Olympus as it were. Frankly, I think A House for Mr. Biswas is naipaul's greatest achievement.

What other novels are there that expand almost to be congruent with their whole cultural setting? If I name some, you'll see how highly I value Biswas:

Don Quixote, for Spain in its Golden Age
Simplicius Simplicissimus, for 17th C Germany
Tom Jones, for 18th C England
Dombey and Sons, for 19th C England
The Makioka Sisters, for pre-Americanization Japan
Buddenbrooks, for pre-WW1 Germany

That's enough. You'll get the idea. Such novels capture more than events. They capture the tone. The language they are written in has to be the language of that time and that place. Can you imagine Don Quixote in the style of Anthony Trollope, or The Makioka Sisters in the style of Charlotte Bronte? Naipaul's language in Mr. Biswas is as natural to backstreet Trinidad as Dickens's droll exaggerations were to foggy London.

Editorial Review:

The early masterpiece of V. S. Naipaul’s brilliant career, A House for Mr. Biswas is an unforgettable story inspired by Naipaul's father that has been hailed as one of the twentieth century's finest novels.

In his forty-six short years, Mr. Mohun Biswas has been fighting against destiny to achieve some semblance of independence, only to face a lifetime of calamity. Shuttled from one residence to another after the drowning death of his father, for which he is inadvertently responsible, Mr. Biswas yearns for a place he can call home. But when he marries into the domineering Tulsi family on whom he indignantly becomes dependent, Mr. Biswas embarks on an arduous–and endless–struggle to weaken their hold over him and purchase a house of his own. A heartrending, dark comedy of manners, A House for Mr. Biswas masterfully evokes a man’s quest for autonomy against an emblematic post-colonial canvas.

The Annotated Lolita: Revised and Updated

Vladimir Nabokov, Alfred Appel Jr.

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Customer Reviews:
Total reviews: 73 Average rating: 4.5 of 5

Editorial Review:

In 1954 Vladimir Nabokov asked one American publisher to consider "a firebomb that I have just finished putting together." The explosive device: Lolita, his morality play about a middle-aged European's obsession with a 12-year-old American girl. Two years later, the New York Times called it "great art." Other reviewers staked a higher moral ground (the editor of the London Sunday Express declaring it "the filthiest book I've ever read"). Since then, the sinuous novel has never ceased to astound. Even Nabokov was astonished by its place in the popular imagination. One biographer writes that "he was quite shocked when a little girl of eight or nine came to his door for candy on Halloween, dressed up by her parents as Lolita." And when it came time to casting the film, Nabokov declared, "Let them find a dwarfess!"

The character Lolita's power now exists almost separately from the endlessly inventive novel. If only it were read as often as it is alluded to. Alfred Appel Jr., editor of the annotated edition, has appended some 900 notes, an exhaustive, good-humored introduction, and a recent preface in which he admits that the "reader familiar with Lolita can approach the apparatus as a separate unit, but the perspicacious student who keeps turning back and forth from text to Notes risks vertigo." No matter. The notes range from translations to the anatomical to the complex textual. Appel is also happy to point out the Great Punster's supposedly unintended word play: he defends the phrase "Beaver Eaters" as "a portmanteau of 'Beefeaters' (the yeoman of the British royal guard) and their beaver hats."

The Essential Neruda: Selected Poems

Pablo Neruda

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Customer Reviews:
Total reviews: 20 Average rating: 5.0 of 5

A wonderful place to start with Neruda 5 out of 5 stars.
4 of 4 people found this review helpful.

Gorgeous work. Neruda is my all time favorite. A beautiful book to give as a gift or to get some started with Neruda.

More than just a great intro-awesome even if you already have some Pablo 5 out of 5 stars.
3 of 3 people found this review helpful.

I got The Essential Neruda when it came out in 2004. I already loved Neruda, and have the old Selected Poems edition (which unfortunately ends at 1968, and some of the translations are just plain flat) plus the 20 Love Poems, Residence on Earth, Canto General, and some of the odes. But the translators here (former US Poet Laureate Robert Hass just won the Pulitzer!) just bring Neruda so alive, and the selection of poems just captures his whole range of 'the many Pablos'. So when I came here today to buy one as a gift, I'm pleased by the reviews of how great an introduction to Neruda it is, but I want to stress how great it is as a book to keep going back to again and again. Actually, to quote the great writer Ariel Dorfman on the back cover of the book:

"What beter way to celebrate the hundred years of Neruda's glorious residence on our earth than this selection of crucial works - in both languages! A splendid way to being a love affair with out Pablo or, having already succumbed to his infinite charms, revisit him passionately again and again and yet again."

Editorial Review:

This collection of Neruda's most essential poems will prove indispensable. Selected by a team of poets and prominent Neruda scholars in both Chile and the U.S., this is a definitive selection that draws from the entire breadth and width of Neruda's various styles and themes. An impressive group of translators that includes Alistair Reid, Stephen Mitchell, Robert Haas, Jim Harrison, Stephen Kessler and Jack Hirschman, have come together to revisit or completely retranslate the poems; and a handful of previously untranslated works are included as well. This selection sets the standard for a general, high--quality introduction to Neruda's complete oeuvre.

Pablo Neruda was born in Chile in 1904. He received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971.

The Tale of Custard the Dragon

Ogden Nash, Lynn Munsinger

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Customer Reviews:
Total reviews: 16 Average rating: 4.5 of 5

Just because you *say* you're brave (or not) 4 out of 5 stars.
5 of 5 people found this review helpful.

Spoiler alert: So many apparently gullible readers have reviewed this poem, that I'm going to tell you the entire plot. If you want to be surprised, then just move on to the next review.

(1) Belinda and three other pets *say* that they're very brave. Custard the Dragon *says* that he'd rather live some place safe. Based on what they *say* about themselves, the four "brave" characters tease the one "cowardly" character.

(2) When a pirate breaks into the house, the four "brave" characters instantly turn tail and run away. Cowardly Custard, however, stands his ground during the attack and ends up eating the pirate.

(3) Once the danger is past, all the so-called brave characters come back and thank Custard.

(4) Ultimately, however -- and this is more like the real world than a fairy tale -- Belinda and the "brave" pets go back to their habit of saying that they're really brave, and Custard goes back to saying that he'd really rather live in a nice safe place.

This poem is an interesting bit of commentary on our own willful blindness to our faults, our narcissistic dependence on erroneous self-talk, and one of our stupider working definitions of bravery.

This book is an excellent opportunity for you to talk to your kids about the difference between what people *say* and how they behave. Who's really the brave character after all? Is it always safe to trust a person's self-description? Is there anything wrong with Custard preferring security to danger? If you were there, would you want to tease Custard, or to tell that self-deceived Belinda to put a sock in it? If you saw someone picking on another person on the playground just because they're different, then should you be ganging up with the Belindas of the world, or sticking up for the Custards?

If you're at all familiar with the parable of the two sons in the vineyard (see Matthew 21:31's "Which of the two did his father's will?" question), then you won't have any trouble figuring out the difference between Belinda's brave words and Custard's brave actions. This poem may be beyond the ken of a two year old, but it shouldn't have been so confusing for so many adult reviewers. Just repeat after me: "Actions speak louder than words," and "Do not believe everything you hear."

Editorial Review:

Do you remember brave Belinda and her "realio, trulio, little pet dragon"? This Ogden Nash classic has been a favorite of children for more than 60 years and until recently was unavailable in a picture-book version. Artist Lynn Munsinger has rejuvenated the poem with her chuckle-inducing illustrations of no-nonsense Belinda and the cowardly green and purple dragon Custard. Belinda was a brave role model for young girls back when females weren't encouraged to stand up for themselves, and Custard's hidden reserve of strength has no doubt inspired children for several generations. Hooked on Custard? The next adventure unfolds in Custard the Dragon and the Wicked Knight, which followed this popular picture book. (Ages 3 to 8)

Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair: Dual Language Edition (Penguin Classics)

Pablo Neruda

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Customer Reviews:
Total reviews: 39 Average rating: 4.5 of 5

the most romantic book of love poems ever written 5 out of 5 stars.
6 of 6 people found this review helpful.

perhaps this is the most romantic and most beautiful book of love poems ever written. every word, every stanza is so easily read, so quickly understood, like an arrow to the heard. give this gift to your lover and they will never forget it.

One of my favorite writers 5 out of 5 stars.
5 of 5 people found this review helpful.

In this duel language edition, the voice is soft, sincere, and refreshing. His language borders on a passion that seems to rouse the senses like skydiving, or waiting for first rain. I recommend this book and all his books to the poetry reader.

Seasons of Love 3 out of 5 stars.
2 of 3 people found this review helpful.

"Clasping my arms like a climbing plant
the leaves garnered your voice, that was slow and at peace.
Bonfire of awe in which my thirst was burning.
Sweet blue hyacinth twisted over my soul."
(from "I Remember You As You Were")

After watching "The Postman" I became interested in purchasing my first book of Pablo Neruda's poems. Needless to say I went into the experience with very high expectations.

The poems are awash with nature images and much less erotic than I expected. Most seem more romantic and at times captivating. They do demand your full attention as they present vivid images one after the other and reading the poems more slowly has many advantages. At times I was surprised by their complexity.

"The moon turns its clockwork dream.
The biggest stars look at me with your eyes.
And as I love you, the pines in the wind
want to sing your name with their leaves of wire."
(from "Here I Love You")

Throughout the book there are illustrations by Pablo Picasso. They don't really seem to mirror the meanings in the poems and yet they seem to express the language of the body.

I expected the poems to be less veiled in mystery and more infused with images of erotic love. Still these poems can be enjoyed for their passionate intimacy and natural sensuality.

~The Rebecca Review

Editorial Review:

The Nobel Prize–winning poet’s most popular work

When it appeared in 1924, this work launched into the international spotlight a young and unknown poet whose writings would ignite a generation. W. S. Merwin’s incomparable translation faces the original Spanish text. Now in a black-spine Classics edition, this book stands as an essential collection that continues to inspire lovers and poets around the world.

Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde (Signet Classics)

Robert Louis Stevenson

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Customer Reviews:
Total reviews: 44 Average rating: 3.5 of 5

Yet Always-Striking Reflections on the Alchemy of the Spirit 4 out of 5 stars.
2 of 2 people found this review helpful.

A quick, enjoyable read, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde provides something of a reflection on the end of the spirit of alchemy which strove to connect the physical and the metaphysical through an almost-mystical mingling of the sciences with spirituality. Without cutting into the deeper considerations of philosophical schools, it is without question that humanity exists as a combination of various good and wicked impulses, although the promptings of such impulses will forever be relegated to the reflections of theologians and philosophers. In any case, the story of Henry Jekyll and his desire to remove from himself the inherent weakness of our somewhat duplicitous, multi-faced nature is the story of each member of humanity. It is our combined quest to always aim higher and to overcome those weakness which chain us to the lower strata of the waking world.

However, Henry Jekyll's story is also that of each fallen man who often attempts to ameliorate his condition by using his own power. It is also the story of a society which believes that it is within its collective power to create the world anew in holiness without the internal rectitude necessary to affect true change. His isolated alchemical processes expose him to the dubious character of Edward Hyde, an apparition of his dark, untamed humanity, which arrives on the scene precisely as Jekyll attempts to create himself anew by his own strength alone. The story of the good doctor's fall into a fancy for this darker side of himself is a fine example of the destruction of spirit which comes when the individual believes himself to be the sole master of his own amelioration. His own individualistic tendencies and their ultimate end are a continuous warning to all of humanity, for the same character flaws which are expressed with such noble intentions in Dr. Jekyll's character are those same well-intentioned hopes of all humanity which often lead to our own power-derived slip into the bowels of hell.

Editorial Review:

The classic nightmare tale in a thrilling new edition

Spawned by a nightmare that Stevenson had, this classic tale of the dark, primordial night of the soul remains a masterpiece of the duality of good and evil within us all.

Speak, Memory: An Autobiography Revisited

Vladimir Nabokov

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Customer Reviews:
Total reviews: 45 Average rating: 4.5 of 5

A Display Case of Butterflies 5 out of 5 stars.
7 of 9 people found this review helpful.

I read "Speak Memory" over a series of sun-shiny days, sitting in my back yard garden with twenty-six species of flowers blooming around me, in a neighborhood of Victorian houses with 100-year old back yard gardens. My flowers include mallows, zinnias, beebalm, cosmos, snapdragons, and other nectar producers. Over the whole week, I saw just one butterfly, a simple Cabbage White.

I don't think Vladimir Nabokov would write so approvingly of America today as he did of America in the 40s and 50s. I think he'd be disappointed. He'd find it barren and ugly, a casualty of the artless modernism he raged against all his life. Nabokov was a fervid conservative in most things, a man committed to his own memories of a more gracious past, his own childhood in pre-Bolshevik Russia. But don't get the idea that Nabokov was the ultra-capitalist curmudgeonly ranting style of conservative that one hears all too often today; here's what he wrote about that sort of conservative, who "rallied close to my side but did so from such crude reactionary motivation that I was only embarrassed by their despicable support. Indeed, I pride myself with having discerned even then the symptoms of waht is so clear today, when a kind of family circle has gradually formed, linking representatives of all nations, jolly empire builders in the jungle clearings, french policemen, the unmentionable German product, the good old churchgoinf Russian or Polish Pogromshchik, the lean American lyncher, the man with bad teeth who squirts antiminority stories in the bar or the lavatory..."

Like almost everything Nabokov wrote, these memoirs pivot around the Bolshekiv Revolution. Talking about the spiral as a clearer signifier than the circle, he explicitly describes his own life as consisting of a first curl of the spiral, his childhood, ending with his family's flight from the Revolution; a second curl, his twenty years as an emigre in Europe, a grim and self-enclosed time; and his later life in America, a relaxed time of blooming friendships.

More than half the book recaptures the fluttering beauties of his highly privileged and cultured childhood. These chapters are essentially just like the childhood chapters of any memoirist who had a happy youth; they depict his growing self-discovery, his awareness of life in its larval and pupal stages, his acquisition of a sense of having a life cycle to fulfill. "All of this is as it should be according to the theory of recapitulation; the beginning of reflexive consciousness in the brain of our remotest ancestor must surely have coincided with the dawning of the sense of time," he meditates, and in another passage, speaking of coincidences and chance encounters, he declares; "The following of such thematic designs through one's life should be, I think, the true purpose of autobiography." But what distinguishes Nabokov's clearly nostalgic memoirs from those of other writers is the splendor of his language. The moths and butterflies in his display cases are so beautiful and rare that the reader scarcely dares breathe on them. One can read Nabokov's tales of his Tsarist playland for simple verbal pleasure, without much bothering over their significance or reality.

Alas, I find the reality dubious. Tsarist Russia was not that cultured, that gradually progressive, that tolerant and susceptible to self-regeneration. Vlady is mythologizing, friends, painting his lost childhood idyll with acrylics in primary colors! There WERE serfs. There were pogroms, racial barriers and supressions of customs, grinding poverty, and rural neglect tempered only with exploitation. The Bolsheviks were thugs, yes indeed, but they couldn't have triumphed without the mastication of the masses by the upper classes.

The shorter and less lovely chapters of Speak Memory that retell Nabokov's years as an emigre also reveal a kind of display case glass between the author and reality: "As I look back at those years of exile, I see myself, and thousands of other Russians, leading an odd but by no means unpleasant existence, in material indigence and intellectual luxury, among perfectly unimportant strangers, spectral Germans and Frenchmen in whose more or less illusory cities we, emigres, happened to dwell. ...no real communication, of the rich human sort so widespread in our own midst, existed between us and them." Well, well! Having been an emigre myself, on both sides of the Atlantic, I can certainly recognize this state of things. Old Vlad is certainly being honest and implicitly self-derogatory. Once again, however, he mythologizes: following the Bolshevik calamity, he says "With very few exceptions, all liberal-minded creative forces -- poets, novelists, critics, historians, philosophers and so on -- had left Lenin's and Satlin's Russia. Those who had not were either withering away there or adulterating their gifts by complying with the political demands of the state." Thereafter he continues through a full chapter discussing the works of his fellow emigres, all but his own justly forgotten or repudiated by now, while however tenuously and in whatever peril, the writers and composers who stood their ground under Lenin, Stalin, and their troll-hearted successors -- Shostakovich, Prokofieff, Schnittke, Mayakovsky, Yevtushenko, Vosnezhensky, Ahkmatova, Solzhentitsyn, and others -- have bequeathed post-communist Russia a heritage of masterpieces.

What saved Nabokov, I think, was his passage from the pupa stage of an emigre to the winged maturity of being an immigrant. That metamorphosis is not recounted in Speak Memory, which ends cleanly in 1939 with the Nabokov family's departure for America.

Such beautiful language! Such wit! Nabokov is a show-off, no doubt, an exotic hand-sized tropical moth of a writer, the only author whose books ever send me to a dictionary. Hey, that's what I enjoy about him.

Editorial Review:

The late Vladimir Nabokov always did things his way, and his classic autobiography is no exception. No dry recital of dates, names, and addresses for this linguistic magician--instead, Speak, Memory is a succession of lapidary episodes, in which the factoids play second fiddle to the development of Nabokov's sensibility. There is, to be sure, an impressionistic whirl through the author's family history (including a gallery of Tartar princes and fin-de-siècle oddities). And Nabokov's account of his tenure at St. Petersburg's famous Tenishev School--where he counted Osip Mandelstam among his schoolmates--offers a lovely glimpse into the heart of Russia's silver age. Still, Nabokov is much too artful an autobiographer to present Speak, Memory as a slice of reality--a word, by the way, that he insisted must always be surrounded by quotation marks.

The Stories of Vladimir Nabokov

Vladimir Nabokov

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Total reviews: 19 Average rating: 5.0 of 5

Wondrous 5 out of 5 stars.
11 of 11 people found this review helpful.

Although I had read various Nabokov stories over the years I had never done so in a comprehensive manner, and finally decided to do so. I anticipated that this would be a wonderful read, and of course, I was right.

I was well aware as to how gifted Nabokov is with the language; what surprised me is his versatility. It seems like there is nothing he can't do. Contained in this collection is every kind of character imaginable: rich, poor, simple, smart; there is even an entirely credible portrait of a Siamese twin. There is straight drama, fantasy, adventure, horror and intrigue. There are all the elements of what our English teachers told us make good writing: symbolism, allegory, descriptive power, observation, wit, cleverness, heart, and an enormous store of knowledge, performed in a style that can only be described as poetic. And woven through it are the themes that make up the web of humanity: beauty, truth, and love. It is an utterly splendid collection, as good a collection of short stories as any I have ever read.

One of the things that sets him apart is restraint, or perhaps subtlety is a better word. In, "The Reunion," for example, two brothers meet after not seeing each other for ten years. One escaped the Soviet Union and is living a poor, almost wretched existence in Berlin. His brother stayed, and was able to achieve some success as a Soviet functionary. They finally meet each other in the Berliner's shabby apartment. Most authors would not be able to resist the urge to let this to sink into melodrama. There would be arguments, tears, and recriminations. But not for Nabokov. In his story the brothers simply find that they are uncomfortable with one another, and when they go their separate ways the seeming lack of drama beforehand makes their parting all the more poignant.

Humor and sadness are evident in all of this collection, sometimes in succeeding stories, sometimes in succeeding pages. "A Bad Day," is the touching and amusing story of a little boy's visit to his cousins in the Russian countryside, a visit he dreads because he doesn't get along and because he will be teased. The last line of the story--which in the hands of somebody like Updike would be a devastating condemnation of humanity--is here bittersweet, bringing both a tear to the eye and a smile to the face in self-recognition. It is, after all, nothing more than a "bad day."

But if there is whimsy here there is also great power. In, "Signs and Symbols," an old man and woman make a trip to the sanatorium to visit their deranged adult son on his birthday. Such a simple exercise is made terribly complicated by their age, their lack of means, the unpredictable nature of their son, and the indifference of the hospital staff. Nothing is really resolved by story's end; we are simply given an indelible portrait of the difficult, arduous journey that life has been for these uncomplicated, decent people. It is very moving and also an excellent example of Nabokov's worldly or otherworldly knowledge.

Many of the stories here have to do with, as you would expect, Russians and Russian expatriates. ("Write about what you know!" the English teachers say.) Nabokov unfortunately knew about the horrible experience of being exiled from his country, a country that his stories make clear he deeply loved, and to which he never returned. He doesn't spend a lot of time condemning the evil system that drove him and millions like him away, (although he does, briefly, in two of his earlier, weaker stories), he instead concentrates on those that it drove away. There are many excellent examples of this, but perhaps my favorite is entitled, "Cloud, Castle, Lake." In it, an older fellow is taken on a holiday train excursion he tries to get out of, is coerced into taking part in activities he doesn't wish to engage, and told to forsake the simple pleasures he has come to enjoy; all for--he is told--his own good. The train eventually stops at a perfect little inn, which overlooks a perfect lake in which is reflected a lovely cloud and castle. He wants to stay. Of course, he can't. Sad as it is, the story is also very amusing, and, typical of Nabokov at his best, works on several different levels.

The story also contains examples of Nabokov's splendid use of the language at the height of his power. Our friend observes the countryside from his hurtling train: "The badly pressed shadow of the car sped madly along the grassy bank, where flowers blended into colored streaks. A crossing: a cyclist was waiting, resting one foot upon the ground. Trees appeared in groups and singly, revolving coolly and blandly, displaying the latest fashions. The blue dampness of a ravine. A memory of love, disguised as a meadow. Wispy clouds--greyhounds of heaven." How marvelously descriptive this, and so beautiful that one finds oneself emotionally engaged.

The book is loaded with this stuff. You can barely turn a page without some surprise or delight awaiting you. A twenty-eight year old son returns unexpectedly after many years to visit his mother in, "The Doorbell." In the dimly lit room, he is taken aback by the fact that she is clearly preoccupied with something. Suddenly, "like a stupid sun issuing from a stupid cloud, the electric light burst forth from the ceiling." This, by the way, is another great story. In, "Ultima Thule," as a character is walking on the beach, "a wave would arrive, all out of breath, but, as it had nothing to report, it would disperse in apologetic salaams."

I could go on and on. After picking up the book I decided to read it cover to cover, but after about a hundred and fifty pages, I simply opened it and read the stories randomly. After a time I began to open the book onto stories I had already read, and found that I couldn't help but to reread them. Finally, I became apprehensive in fear that I might have missed something.

But no matter. If I haven't gotten to one yet, I will eventually. The book has already become an old friend, and like an old friend I will return to its comfort and joys for many years to come.

Editorial Review:

These stories, written between the early 1920s to the mid-1950s, reveal the fascinating progress of Nabokov's early development as they remind us that we are in the presence of a magnificent original, a genuine master. Edited by his son and translator, Dmitri Nabokov, this volume is a literary event.