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King, Queen, Knave
'Of all my novels this bright brute is the gayest', Nabokov wrote of King, Queen, Knave. Comic, sensual and cerebral, it dramatizes an Oedipal love triangle, a tragi-comedy of husband, wife and lover, through Dreyer the rich businessman, his ripe-lipped ad mercenary wife Martha, and their bespectacled nephew Franz. 'If a resolute Freudian manages to slip in' - Nabokov darts a glance to the reader - 'he or she should be warned that a number of cruel traps have been set up here and there'.
275 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 1928
About the author
Vladimir Nabokov
720 books13.5k followersRussian:
Владимир Владимирович Набоков
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Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov, also known by the pen name Vladimir Sirin, was a Russian-American novelist. Nabokov wrote his first nine novels in Russian, then rose to international prominence as a master English prose stylist. He also made significant contributions to lepidoptery, and had a big interest in chess problems.
Nabokov's Lolita (1955) is frequently cited as his most important novel, and is at any rate his most widely known one, exhibiting the love of intricate wordplay and descriptive detail that characterized all his works.
Lolita was ranked fourth in the list of the Modern Library 100 Best Novels; Pale Fire (1962) was ranked 53rd on the same list, and his memoir, Speak, Memory (1951), was listed eighth on the publisher's list of the 20th century's greatest nonfiction. He was also a finalist for the National Book Award for Fiction seven times.
Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov, also known by the pen name Vladimir Sirin, was a Russian-American novelist. Nabokov wrote his first nine novels in Russian, then rose to international prominence as a master English prose stylist. He also made significant contributions to lepidoptery, and had a big interest in chess problems.
Nabokov's Lolita (1955) is frequently cited as his most important novel, and is at any rate his most widely known one, exhibiting the love of intricate wordplay and descriptive detail that characterized all his works.
Lolita was ranked fourth in the list of the Modern Library 100 Best Novels; Pale Fire (1962) was ranked 53rd on the same list, and his memoir, Speak, Memory (1951), was listed eighth on the publisher's list of the 20th century's greatest nonfiction. He was also a finalist for the National Book Award for Fiction seven times.
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February 25, 2021
The train is on the track…
And in the end of the railroad there is a capital city… And a new life waits ahead…
Vladimir Nabokov’s expressionistic style of narration adds to the story the special dynamism…
And the author always remains derisively ironic.
Three playing cards: King, Queen, Knave – a man, his wife and her lover – it’s a classical love triangle…
The queen keeps her great expectations…
And the knave is full of anticipations too…
So they are lovers… And the king stays aside, more resembling a joker than a king now… Then the knave becomes a captive of the queen and the king must be deposed…
But playing cards can’t change their denomination so a knave is never capable to turn into a king…
The huge black clock hand is still at rest but is on the point of making its once-a-minute gesture; that resilient jolt will set a whole world in motion. The clock face will slowly turn away, full of despair, contempt, and boredom, as one by one the iron pillars will start walking past, bearing away the vault of the station like bland atlantes; the platform will begin to move past, carrying off on an unknown journey cigarette butts, used tickets, flecks of sunlight and spittle…
And in the end of the railroad there is a capital city… And a new life waits ahead…
Vladimir Nabokov’s expressionistic style of narration adds to the story the special dynamism…
Meanwhile, shafts and ripples of life passed by, marking the course of every car. Shop windows, bursting with tense radiance, oozed, squirted, and splashed out into the rich blackness.
And at every corner, emblem of ineffable happiness, stood a sleek-hosed harlot whose features there was no time to study: another already beckoned in the distance, and beyond her, a third.
And the author always remains derisively ironic.
Three playing cards: King, Queen, Knave – a man, his wife and her lover – it’s a classical love triangle…
The queen keeps her great expectations…
With a vague resentment, she recalled that her sister had already had at least four or five lovers in succession, and that Willy Wald’s young wife had had two simultaneously. And yet Martha was already past thirty-four. It was high time. In turn, she had been given a husband, a beautiful villa, antique silver, an automobile; the next gift on her list was Franz.
And the knave is full of anticipations too…
And Franz told the pillow, in the half-obscene, half-grandiloquent idiom he affected when talking to himself: ‘Never mind – better betray my career than wait till my brain cracks. Tomorrow, yes, tomorrow, I’ll grab her and tumble her, on the sofa, on the floor, on the table, on broken crockery…’
So they are lovers… And the king stays aside, more resembling a joker than a king now… Then the knave becomes a captive of the queen and the king must be deposed…
Reality returned. And once again everything became oppressive, dark, and relentless.
‘… strangle him,’ she muttered. ‘If we could simply strangle him. With our bare hands.’
But playing cards can’t change their denomination so a knave is never capable to turn into a king…
October 18, 2023
2,5
Роман был написан Набоковым в Германии, под псевдонимом Сирин. Его структурообразующим элементом является традиционный бульварный любовный треугольник - богатый муж Драйер (король), его красавица жена Марта (дама) и молодой любовник Франц (валет). Роман разворачивается совершенно тривиально в соответствии с традициями данного жанра – муж ни о чем не догадывается, жена с любовником замышляют, как его убить и завладеть его состоянием. Можно отметить, что автор тонко насмехается, как любовники изучают яды и другие способы убийства и приходят к выводу, что убить бесследно и без улик практически невозможно. Они почти реализовали свой план потопления не умевшего плавать Драйера, но он ненароком упомянул, что почти наверняка заработает на будущей неделе несколько сот тысяч марок. Это его и спасло. Жадность обуяла Марту, и она решила, что заманить его в лодку через несколько дней будет совсем несложно. Сцена с замыслом утопления мужа очень сильно напоминает аналогичную сцену из романа Золя «Тереза Ракен», только без натурализма и углубления в психологическое состояние. Пошел дождь, она промокла, заболела пневмонией и скоропостижно умерла на руках безутешного мужа. Франц вздохнул с облегчением. Больших художественных достоинств в этом романе нет. Возможно, Набоков писал это роман для заработка, ориентируясь на вкусы публики, любящей беллетристику. И в этом трагедия большого мастера, вынужденного выбирать между заработком в угоду непритязательному читателю и растратой таланта на пустяки.
Роман был написан Набоковым в Германии, под псевдонимом Сирин. Его структурообразующим элементом является традиционный бульварный любовный треугольник - богатый муж Драйер (король), его красавица жена Марта (дама) и молодой любовник Франц (валет). Роман разворачивается совершенно тривиально в соответствии с традициями данного жанра – муж ни о чем не догадывается, жена с любовником замышляют, как его убить и завладеть его состоянием. Можно отметить, что автор тонко насмехается, как любовники изучают яды и другие способы убийства и приходят к выводу, что убить бесследно и без улик практически невозможно. Они почти реализовали свой план потопления не умевшего плавать Драйера, но он ненароком упомянул, что почти наверняка заработает на будущей неделе несколько сот тысяч марок. Это его и спасло. Жадность обуяла Марту, и она решила, что заманить его в лодку через несколько дней будет совсем несложно. Сцена с замыслом утопления мужа очень сильно напоминает аналогичную сцену из романа Золя «Тереза Ракен», только без натурализма и углубления в психологическое состояние. Пошел дождь, она промокла, заболела пневмонией и скоропостижно умерла на руках безутешного мужа. Франц вздохнул с облегчением. Больших художественных достоинств в этом романе нет. Возможно, Набоков писал это роман для заработка, ориентируясь на вкусы публики, любящей беллетристику. И в этом трагедия большого мастера, вынужденного выбирать между заработком в угоду непритязательному читателю и растратой таланта на пустяки.
November 30, 2019
بنده یک دوست عزیزی دارم به نام فرزاد. این آقا فرزاد، همونیه که به من لولیتا رو داد و اسفندِ پیرارسال (وای خدا چه ترسناک، دو سال گذشته) منو با لولیتا دیوانه کرد و درحالیکه تولد یکی از بچهها رفته بودیم یه کافهای که اون زمانا خیلی دوستش داشتیم و الان کمتر، من داشتم یه بند در وصف لولیتا آه و ناله سر میدادم که حاجی این چی بود تو نوشتی. ریویوی اینجامم که هست. وسط تولد من داشتم همهش مویه میکردم سر لولیتا.
حالا، فرزاد یه کتاب دیگه از ناباکوف آورد و من منتظرم برم بش بدم و باهاش حرف بزنم. چیزایی که در نظر دارم بش بگم، اینه که، من معمولاً با یه اثر سعی میکنم دربارۀ یه نویسنده قضاوت نکنم و دیدی نداشته باشم، بااینحال ناباکوف با یه اثر، لولیتا، قلب منو تسخیر کرد. :دی اما، این شیفتگی دیری نپایید و من ازین حادثه غمگینم. باید اعتراف کنم که شاه بیبی سرباز اصلاً به کیفیت لولیتا نبود، البته که سیر نویسنده هم در لولیتا به تکامل رسیده بود و این اثر جزو اولین کارهاشه، فکر کنم.
شاه بیبی سرباز هم مثل لولیتا اگه یکی برام ایدهش رو تعریف کنه، میگم عوق، من بمیرمم این کتاب رو نمیخونم. چطور یه نویسنده حاضر میشه اینو بنویسه. اونم ناباکوف. یه غولِ روسیِ میاندورۀ کلاسیک و مدرن، که توی کارهاش، حداقل تا اینجایی که من خوندم، از هردو دوره ویژگیهایی رو داره. این کتاب هم مثل لولیتا یه شروع میخکوبکننده داره و مهآلود و وهمآور. خیلی شروعش مالیخولیایی و سیاهه، ولی پسزننده نیست و منو دنبال خودش کشوند. مارتا رو دلم میخواست خفه کنم. بعد شوهرش رو دلم میخواست خفه کنم. بعد اون پسرکِ احساساتی مسخره رو. خلاصه، ناباکوف اینجا هم تونست خشم و بیزاری منو برانگیزه، ولی اون لذت لولیتا رو بهم نداد. ابداً، حتی نزدیکش هم نشد.
دیدم یکی توی ریویوش نوشته یه جاهایی خستهکننده بود. آقا خستهکننده کمه، یه جاهایی من یادم میرفت دارم چی میخونم! اینقد خستهکننده بود، یا چی. این از خستهکننده فراتره. خیلی بد بود. خیلی طول کشید و کشش داد تا رسید به انتها. انتها هم اوجی نبود. خیلی انتها عجیب بود. هم پایان جالبی بود، هم نبود. هم فهمیدم چی شد، هم نه. لولیتا بااینکه حجم زیادی داشت، گمونم بالغ بر ششصد صفحه، هیچجاش من خسته نشدم. ریتم هم آروم میشد، من احساس ملال نمیکردم. اینجا بعد از شروع، بارها افت کرد. یه ذره بلند شد، دیالوگها و شخصیتپردازیهای زیرکانۀ ناباکوفی اومدن، باز پرت شد پایین.
غمگینم کردی ناباکوف. ولی هنوز دوستت دارم لعنتی. میخوام یه فرصت دیگه بت بدم، تا کارهای بعدی. :دی
+ احتمالاً خیلی کار زشتیه که به ناباکوف سه ستاره بدم، ولی میدم. شاید بعد بیام چار ستاره کنمش، ولی به لحاظ حسی اصلاً برام چهار ستاره نبود.
+ بیربط: راستی، آقای رضا رضایی رو از نزدیک دیدین و برخورد داشتین؟ همین آبان من تهران توی کتابفروشی هنوز دیدمشون، و چقد ایشون مهربون و گرم و گوگولیان. :((((
حالا، فرزاد یه کتاب دیگه از ناباکوف آورد و من منتظرم برم بش بدم و باهاش حرف بزنم. چیزایی که در نظر دارم بش بگم، اینه که، من معمولاً با یه اثر سعی میکنم دربارۀ یه نویسنده قضاوت نکنم و دیدی نداشته باشم، بااینحال ناباکوف با یه اثر، لولیتا، قلب منو تسخیر کرد. :دی اما، این شیفتگی دیری نپایید و من ازین حادثه غمگینم. باید اعتراف کنم که شاه بیبی سرباز اصلاً به کیفیت لولیتا نبود، البته که سیر نویسنده هم در لولیتا به تکامل رسیده بود و این اثر جزو اولین کارهاشه، فکر کنم.
شاه بیبی سرباز هم مثل لولیتا اگه یکی برام ایدهش رو تعریف کنه، میگم عوق، من بمیرمم این کتاب رو نمیخونم. چطور یه نویسنده حاضر میشه اینو بنویسه. اونم ناباکوف. یه غولِ روسیِ میاندورۀ کلاسیک و مدرن، که توی کارهاش، حداقل تا اینجایی که من خوندم، از هردو دوره ویژگیهایی رو داره. این کتاب هم مثل لولیتا یه شروع میخکوبکننده داره و مهآلود و وهمآور. خیلی شروعش مالیخولیایی و سیاهه، ولی پسزننده نیست و منو دنبال خودش کشوند. مارتا رو دلم میخواست خفه کنم. بعد شوهرش رو دلم میخواست خفه کنم. بعد اون پسرکِ احساساتی مسخره رو. خلاصه، ناباکوف اینجا هم تونست خشم و بیزاری منو برانگیزه، ولی اون لذت لولیتا رو بهم نداد. ابداً، حتی نزدیکش هم نشد.
دیدم یکی توی ریویوش نوشته یه جاهایی خستهکننده بود. آقا خستهکننده کمه، یه جاهایی من یادم میرفت دارم چی میخونم! اینقد خستهکننده بود، یا چی. این از خستهکننده فراتره. خیلی بد بود. خیلی طول کشید و کشش داد تا رسید به انتها. انتها هم اوجی نبود. خیلی انتها عجیب بود. هم پایان جالبی بود، هم نبود. هم فهمیدم چی شد، هم نه. لولیتا بااینکه حجم زیادی داشت، گمونم بالغ بر ششصد صفحه، هیچجاش من خسته نشدم. ریتم هم آروم میشد، من احساس ملال نمیکردم. اینجا بعد از شروع، بارها افت کرد. یه ذره بلند شد، دیالوگها و شخصیتپردازیهای زیرکانۀ ناباکوفی اومدن، باز پرت شد پایین.
غمگینم کردی ناباکوف. ولی هنوز دوستت دارم لعنتی. میخوام یه فرصت دیگه بت بدم، تا کارهای بعدی. :دی
+ احتمالاً خیلی کار زشتیه که به ناباکوف سه ستاره بدم، ولی میدم. شاید بعد بیام چار ستاره کنمش، ولی به لحاظ حسی اصلاً برام چهار ستاره نبود.
+ بیربط: راستی، آقای رضا رضایی رو از نزدیک دیدین و برخورد داشتین؟ همین آبان من تهران توی کتابفروشی هنوز دیدمشون، و چقد ایشون مهربون و گرم و گوگولیان. :((((
May 18, 2018
عنوان «شاه، بی بی، سرباز» اشاره ای مستقیم به بازی ورق دارد، اما این عنوان بیشتر کنایه ای است به محتوای اثر که حول محور یک مثلث عشقی روایت می شود؛ داستانی که اضلاع سه گانه آن را یک زن و دو مرد تشکیل می دهند و شخصیت ها را می توان با شاه و بی بی و سرباز نظیر سازی کرد. محل رخدادهای این رمان روسیه نیست و برخلاف رمان قبلی (ماشنکا) او حتی شخصیت های اصلی آن نیز غیر روس و آلمانی هستند. بنابراین علاقمندی ناشر آلمانی در آن ایام برای ترجمه و انتشار این رمان به زبان آلمانی بی جهت نبوده است.
این عنوان کنایهای، سه شخصیت اصلی کتاب به نامهای درایر و مارتا(همسر درایر) و فرانتس(فامیل درایر) که با توجه به قدرت و ثروت درایر، به شاه و به همین ترتیب مارتا به بیبی تشبیه شدند و فرانتس در پایین ترین درجه فقط از اموامر این دو نفر اطاعت میکند، نشان میدهد. نثر کتاب روان و ساده ست. داستان در آلمان اتفاق می افتد و روایت دیگهای از خیانت و دزدی رو بیان میکند با این تفاوت که این تفکرات هولناک و استرس زا به طرزی پذیرفته شده و معمولی مطرح میشود. ماجرای داستان علاقهی مارتا و فرانتس و چالش هاییه که در این راه با آن مواجه میشوند. احساس نفرت و آزردگی مارتا نسبت به درایر ، تلاش او برای تصاحب ثروت او و از دیگر سو توجه فرانتس به درایر و انجام خواسته های او حلقه ای از رابطه هایی پیچیده را شکل می دهد. این شیفتگی مثلثی عاشقانه و شوم را تشکیل می دهد که به سمت خلق تراژدی حرکت می کند. این رمان از درونمایه ای جذاب و چرخش های دراماتیک پرکشش برخوردار است، اتفاقاتی که روی تصمیم شخصیت ها اثر گذاشته و خط داستان به سویی دیگر می کشند و خواننده را نیز با خود همراه می کنند.
در اوایل کتاب دلداگی فرانتس به مارتا به چشم میخوره. علاقهی نفسگیر به زنی غریبه که در چند صفحه بعدتر به آشنایی صمیمی تبدیل میشود:
در این لحظه خورشید داشت صورت زن را آفتابی میکرد. میریخت روی گونههای صافش و گرمای کاذبی میداد به چشمهایش با آن مردمک های درشت کش مانند توی عنبیهای با ته رنگ صورتی و پلکهای سیاه و دلربا، به چروکی بفهمی نفهمی شبیه بنفشهها که خیلی قشنگ نیم بسته بود و به ندرت پلک میزد. تقریبا هیچ آرایشی نداشت فقط لای درزهای مورب و زیر لبهای گوشتالویش انگار رگههای خشکیدهی ماتیک پرتقالی رنگی دیده میشد.
نکته ی شایان توجه در اینجا است که زن متمولی مثل مارتا با وجود داشتن همسر ثروتمند و موفقی مثل درایر و حس تجمل گرایی خود مارتا، چطور از جوان یک لاقبایی مثل فرانتس، که حتی اجارهی اتاقش را هم درایر میپردازد خوشش آمده و بعد از اون چقدر حس تنفر نسبت به شوهرش برایش ملموس و بزرگ میشود، تا جایی که حاضر میشود فرانتس را به جای درایر در زندگیش تصر و برای مح��ق شدن این رویا تا انتها دست برنمیدارد.
هر چند که شوهرش مشکلاتی دارد ولی در قسمتهایی اشاره شده که واقعا به همسرش علاقه مند و از برخورد سرد مارتا ناراحت است:
من قشنگ میفهمم با زنت چکار میکنی، عاشقش هستی اما توجهی به او نمیکنی. عاشقش هستی- اوه خیلی زیاد- اما به خودت زحمت نمیدهی ببینی باطنش چه شکلی ست. میبوسی اش و باز هم توجهی به او نمیکنی.
نکتهای که خود نویسنده بیان میکند «این جانور چموش(کتاب شاه، بیبی، سرباز) از همهی رمان هایم بیخیال تر است.» درست ترین نظریست که میشود درمورد کتاب داد. توصیفهای دقیق و بیقاعده انگاری لیز بخورند و وارد داستان شوند در متن پیدا میشوند و خواننده را سرگردان می کنند.
زیر نگاه تابناک و بیاعتنای زن، ابروهایش گره خورد و وقتی زن سرش را برگرداند، فرانتس توی ذهنش انگار انگشتهایش روی مهرههای یک چرتکهی نامرئی حرکت کند، حساب کرد چند روز از عمرش را حاضر است بدهد تا این زن بپذیردش.
ناباکوف اعتقادی به نظریات و تحلیل های روان کاوانه فروید ندارد؛ و در آثارش معمولا به شیوه خود به تحلیل غرایز انسانی و نقشی که کنش و واکنش های شان دارد می پردازد. در حقیقت به گونه ای رفتار میکند که نظریات فروید را زیر سوال برده و به تمسخر می گیرد.
August 20, 2021
"Dintre toate romanele mele, aceasta nemaipomenita fiara e cea mai jucausa" spunea Vladimir Nabokov despre opera de fata. Asadar si recenzia mea o sa fie una amuzanta si jucausa.
Romanul este un tribut adus lui Flaubert prin "imitatia deliberata" a creatiei sale "Doamna Bovary" si infatiseaza un trio amoros cuprinzand un sot, o sotie si un amant (regele, dama si valetul).
Actiunea are in prim plan un cuplu alcatuit din frumoasa Martha si Dreyer, care calatorind cu trenul ajung sa stea in acelasi compartiment cu un tanar neobisnuit, care se va dovedi ulterior a fi ruda cu Dreyer. Franz se ducea la Berlin pentru a obtine o slujba tocmai la magazinul detinut de unchiul sau Dreyer. El ajunge sa devina un intim si un musafir constant al casei celor doi soti si acest lucru va da nastere la o idila intre el si Martha. Cu timpul, cei doi se indragostesc si Martha ajunge chiar sa se gandeasca la diferite moduri de a-si ucide sotul.
Felul in care Martha il seduce pe Franz este demn de o mare dama, cu miscari sublime, rafinate, deloc vulgare, calculate cu inteligenta, facute la momentul potrivit, ea fiind o maestra in arta seductiei.
Cum incepe idila? Cu o plimbare nevinovata pe strada unde, deodata, Marthei i se pare ca este ceva in neregula cu tocul pantofului ei si ii cere necoptului de Franz sa se sprijine de umarul lui, doar o clipa pentru a verifica. Cu alta ocazie, in timp ce sta pe scaun, Marthei i se desface un fir de la ciorap si lingandu-si un deget tamponeaza iute matasea ca sa nu se desire mai departe. Apoi se apleaca pentru a aranja coltul unui covor si adancimea dintre sanii ei devine vizibila tanarului. Cand ajung in intimitate si il dezbraca pe acesta isi infige "cele 10 unghii in fesele lui".
In ceea ce priveste parerea mea, ma tem ca este una ironica, deoarece Dreyer mi s-a parut un sot anost si insipid, foarte nepasator cu tot ce e in jurul lui si nu prea demn de titlul de rege desi ramane cu toata imparatia. Cred totusi ca a avut mult noroc pentru ca trebuie sa ai multa sansa atunci cand stai alaturi de femei cu ganduri criminale.
Martha este femeia fatala, seducatoare si rece, inteligenta insa lipsita de un destin pe masura. Uneori mi s-a parut enervanta, pentru ca e foarte directa si acida in vorbire si nazuroasa in purtare.
Nu stiu cum poate o femeie ca ea sa stea cu un asemenea sot (adica stiu - pentru avere) dar oare ce a impins-o sa se indragosteasca de Franz - cel mai palid tantalau si neputincios amant din istoria literaturii? Desi autorul nu ne releva in descriere, mie mi-a dat impresia ca Franz e doar putin mai frumos ca Yeti... Totusi, Martha a inceput idila cu mintea rece si sufletul gol, satisfacandu-si ego-ul si curiozitatea feminina, ca mai apoi sa-si piarda capul si sa se gandeasca pana la crima pentru dragostea lor.
Eu mereu am crezut ca cel mai inteligent pentru o dama este sa aiba mai multi valeti care sa-i duca trena si un singur rege in fata caruia sa ingenuncheze - si daca acesta e initial valet sa faca rege din el, daca il iubeste! :)
In incheiere atasez cateva citate care ne pot invata multe lucruri in viata si care sunt graitoare pentru aceasta carte:
"... Erica nu poate intelege ca raceala unei regine este cea mai buna garantie, fidelitatea perfecta."
"Probabil ca intregul ei farmec consta in faptul ca e asa de rece."
"Vezi, scumpul meu, visurile nu pot fi depuse la banca. Nu sunt titluri de valoare, de incredere, iar dobanzile pe care le aduc sunt zero."
"Inca odata, ca de atatea ori inainte, a trecut in revista toate pacatele sotului, in gand. I se parea ca si le aminteste pe toate."
"Orbit si stanjenit, si atat de tanar, a cugetat ea, cu un amestec de multumire si tandrete, ceara tanara, calda si sanatoasa, pe care-o poti manipula si modela pana ce forma sa iti e pe plac."
"Sufrageria mea, cerceii mei, argintaria mea, Franz al meu." (in aceasta ordine) :)
Romanul este un tribut adus lui Flaubert prin "imitatia deliberata" a creatiei sale "Doamna Bovary" si infatiseaza un trio amoros cuprinzand un sot, o sotie si un amant (regele, dama si valetul).
Actiunea are in prim plan un cuplu alcatuit din frumoasa Martha si Dreyer, care calatorind cu trenul ajung sa stea in acelasi compartiment cu un tanar neobisnuit, care se va dovedi ulterior a fi ruda cu Dreyer. Franz se ducea la Berlin pentru a obtine o slujba tocmai la magazinul detinut de unchiul sau Dreyer. El ajunge sa devina un intim si un musafir constant al casei celor doi soti si acest lucru va da nastere la o idila intre el si Martha. Cu timpul, cei doi se indragostesc si Martha ajunge chiar sa se gandeasca la diferite moduri de a-si ucide sotul.
Felul in care Martha il seduce pe Franz este demn de o mare dama, cu miscari sublime, rafinate, deloc vulgare, calculate cu inteligenta, facute la momentul potrivit, ea fiind o maestra in arta seductiei.
Cum incepe idila? Cu o plimbare nevinovata pe strada unde, deodata, Marthei i se pare ca este ceva in neregula cu tocul pantofului ei si ii cere necoptului de Franz sa se sprijine de umarul lui, doar o clipa pentru a verifica. Cu alta ocazie, in timp ce sta pe scaun, Marthei i se desface un fir de la ciorap si lingandu-si un deget tamponeaza iute matasea ca sa nu se desire mai departe. Apoi se apleaca pentru a aranja coltul unui covor si adancimea dintre sanii ei devine vizibila tanarului. Cand ajung in intimitate si il dezbraca pe acesta isi infige "cele 10 unghii in fesele lui".
In ceea ce priveste parerea mea, ma tem ca este una ironica, deoarece Dreyer mi s-a parut un sot anost si insipid, foarte nepasator cu tot ce e in jurul lui si nu prea demn de titlul de rege desi ramane cu toata imparatia. Cred totusi ca a avut mult noroc pentru ca trebuie sa ai multa sansa atunci cand stai alaturi de femei cu ganduri criminale.
Martha este femeia fatala, seducatoare si rece, inteligenta insa lipsita de un destin pe masura. Uneori mi s-a parut enervanta, pentru ca e foarte directa si acida in vorbire si nazuroasa in purtare.
Nu stiu cum poate o femeie ca ea sa stea cu un asemenea sot (adica stiu - pentru avere) dar oare ce a impins-o sa se indragosteasca de Franz - cel mai palid tantalau si neputincios amant din istoria literaturii? Desi autorul nu ne releva in descriere, mie mi-a dat impresia ca Franz e doar putin mai frumos ca Yeti... Totusi, Martha a inceput idila cu mintea rece si sufletul gol, satisfacandu-si ego-ul si curiozitatea feminina, ca mai apoi sa-si piarda capul si sa se gandeasca pana la crima pentru dragostea lor.
Eu mereu am crezut ca cel mai inteligent pentru o dama este sa aiba mai multi valeti care sa-i duca trena si un singur rege in fata caruia sa ingenuncheze - si daca acesta e initial valet sa faca rege din el, daca il iubeste! :)
In incheiere atasez cateva citate care ne pot invata multe lucruri in viata si care sunt graitoare pentru aceasta carte:
"... Erica nu poate intelege ca raceala unei regine este cea mai buna garantie, fidelitatea perfecta."
"Probabil ca intregul ei farmec consta in faptul ca e asa de rece."
"Vezi, scumpul meu, visurile nu pot fi depuse la banca. Nu sunt titluri de valoare, de incredere, iar dobanzile pe care le aduc sunt zero."
"Inca odata, ca de atatea ori inainte, a trecut in revista toate pacatele sotului, in gand. I se parea ca si le aminteste pe toate."
"Orbit si stanjenit, si atat de tanar, a cugetat ea, cu un amestec de multumire si tandrete, ceara tanara, calda si sanatoasa, pe care-o poti manipula si modela pana ce forma sa iti e pe plac."
"Sufrageria mea, cerceii mei, argintaria mea, Franz al meu." (in aceasta ordine) :)
March 25, 2019
ناباکوف خوانی هرگز کار ساده ای نبوده است. هنگام همراهی با ناباکوف ممکن است نه از مسیر لذت ببرید و نه از مقصد. همگی به یک اندازه تلخ و البته به همان اندازه سرشار از تجربه و درک زندگی هستند. ناباکوف در ابتدا شما را با دسیسه و بهره گیری از ابزار ادبیات نابش همراه می کند و در ادامه تا می تواند زجرتان می دهد و در انتها هم خفه تان می کند. کشش داستان های ناباکوف همان چیزی است که شما را به دنبال او می کشاند و تعلیقات بیشمار و طولانی ناباکوف همان ابزار شکنجه ست. اما چیزی که در شاه، بی بی، سرباز بیشتر هر چیزی آزارتان میدهد کنجکاوی کور کننده بر اثر تعلیقات طولانی نیست بلکه بی حوصلگی و دلزدگی از این حجم زیاد تعلیق است. آنقدر بعضی قسمت ها کش میآید که عملا خواننده را خسته میکند و قدرت تمرکز را از او میگیرد. به صورتی که مجبور میشوید کمی بیخیال شوید و بروید آبی بنوشید و دوباره با قوایی بازیابی شده ادامه دهید
تم داستان در انتها بسیار مالیخولیایی و وهم آلود می شود. همه چیز از حالت سیاه و سفید و کدر خود خارج میشود و حالتی تاریک و درهم برهم به خود میگیرد. نمیشود ناباکوف را روانشناس قابلی دانست و تحلیل هایش را ستود اما باید به قدرت اقناعش آفرین گفت. خواننده را قانع می کند که تحلیل هایش همگی میتوانند در چنین موقعیتی درست باشند
سن کم ناباکوف در هنگام نگارش این اثر باعث شده است دست به خلق فضاهایی بزند که کمی با ناباکوف معمولی نامتجانس است. مثلا روایت سای-فای مربوط به مانکن متحرک، هرچند که خوب از آب درنیامده است اما بسیار همسو با روحیه ی ناباکوف جوان در آستانه ی سی سالگیست
با اینکه من نسبت به اکثر قسمت های کتاب حس خوبی ندارم و افسردگی شدیدی در رابطه با مسائلی چون حس درایر به فرانتس یا پیرمرد صاحب خانه داشتم، اما از ماهیت کلی اثر لذت بردم. نمیتوانم در مقابل سه ستاره ای که اینجا ثبت کرده ام کاملا حق به جانب باشم. وقتی به امتیازاتم به سایر کتابها نگاه میکنم میبینم که سه ستاره برای شاه، بیبی، سرباز بسیار ناخن خشکانه است
شاید اگر پایان بندی داستان تا این اندازه عجیب و مه آلود نبود و کمی آفتاب سواحل اسپانیا را به جای سرمای آلمان به همراه داشت، حتی بیشتر هم لذت میبردم
تم داستان در انتها بسیار مالیخولیایی و وهم آلود می شود. همه چیز از حالت سیاه و سفید و کدر خود خارج میشود و حالتی تاریک و درهم برهم به خود میگیرد. نمیشود ناباکوف را روانشناس قابلی دانست و تحلیل هایش را ستود اما باید به قدرت اقناعش آفرین گفت. خواننده را قانع می کند که تحلیل هایش همگی میتوانند در چنین موقعیتی درست باشند
سن کم ناباکوف در هنگام نگارش این اثر باعث شده است دست به خلق فضاهایی بزند که کمی با ناباکوف معمولی نامتجانس است. مثلا روایت سای-فای مربوط به مانکن متحرک، هرچند که خوب از آب درنیامده است اما بسیار همسو با روحیه ی ناباکوف جوان در آستانه ی سی سالگیست
با اینکه من نسبت به اکثر قسمت های کتاب حس خوبی ندارم و افسردگی شدیدی در رابطه با مسائلی چون حس درایر به فرانتس یا پیرمرد صاحب خانه داشتم، اما از ماهیت کلی اثر لذت بردم. نمیتوانم در مقابل سه ستاره ای که اینجا ثبت کرده ام کاملا حق به جانب باشم. وقتی به امتیازاتم به سایر کتابها نگاه میکنم میبینم که سه ستاره برای شاه، بیبی، سرباز بسیار ناخن خشکانه است
شاید اگر پایان بندی داستان تا این اندازه عجیب و مه آلود نبود و کمی آفتاب سواحل اسپانیا را به جای سرمای آلمان به همراه داشت، حتی بیشتر هم لذت میبردم
April 4, 2018
Il re - soddisfatto, tronfio, narciso, iperattivo, egocentrico al punto da non considerare neppure l’altrui personalità, borioso, sicuro di sé, diciamo ottuso, non sente nell’aria la crisi, né quella della moglie né i primi accenni di quella finanziaria, e comunque infantile -
La donna - eburnea, corvina, elegantissima, buona teatrante, ha imparato bene la parte di abbiente ma la classe non si compra: a volte il suo parlato perde il giusto accento, l’impostazione della voce per qualche secondo diventa dozzinale come il pensiero del soldino che sempre l’assilla, il costo dei mezzi pubblici, della stanza in affitto e il contrattare del suo prezzo, dell’hotel al mare. Capricciosa, opprimente e manipolatrice, fredda ma assolutamente non frigida, avida, di intelletto limitato – l’elaborazione del piano per raggiungere la libertà è veramente ridicola - anche se a modo suo brillante, comunque infantile –.
Il fante – di diritto infantile, giovane uomo in formazione, prende la via sbagliata inseguendo il luccichio della bella vita e facendosi plagiare da una donna anagraficamente più matura, in una sola stagione salta dieci anni di vita, esaltato all’inizio, abbattuto e svuotato alla fine, incapace di reagire, goffo, inetto, rinuncia a migliorarsi, anche se progressivamente si rende conto della vacuità del mondo che si è scelto ripensando con nostalgia a certi episodi della sua vita passata, che prima disprezzava.
A due delle carte di cui sopra, tutto sommato, va bene, una viene scartata.
La donna - eburnea, corvina, elegantissima, buona teatrante, ha imparato bene la parte di abbiente ma la classe non si compra: a volte il suo parlato perde il giusto accento, l’impostazione della voce per qualche secondo diventa dozzinale come il pensiero del soldino che sempre l’assilla, il costo dei mezzi pubblici, della stanza in affitto e il contrattare del suo prezzo, dell’hotel al mare. Capricciosa, opprimente e manipolatrice, fredda ma assolutamente non frigida, avida, di intelletto limitato – l’elaborazione del piano per raggiungere la libertà è veramente ridicola - anche se a modo suo brillante, comunque infantile –.
Il fante – di diritto infantile, giovane uomo in formazione, prende la via sbagliata inseguendo il luccichio della bella vita e facendosi plagiare da una donna anagraficamente più matura, in una sola stagione salta dieci anni di vita, esaltato all’inizio, abbattuto e svuotato alla fine, incapace di reagire, goffo, inetto, rinuncia a migliorarsi, anche se progressivamente si rende conto della vacuità del mondo che si è scelto ripensando con nostalgia a certi episodi della sua vita passata, che prima disprezzava.
A due delle carte di cui sopra, tutto sommato, va bene, una viene scartata.
February 6, 2019
Senryu Review:
Dim late-teen tailor
lusts after Teutonic wilf
in heaven-kissed prose
Dim late-teen tailor
lusts after Teutonic wilf
in heaven-kissed prose
October 14, 2021
نظر من هم مثل بقیه، خیلی خسته کننده بود!
November 27, 2019
زبان سحرانگیز ناباکوف با تصویرهایی جاندار و سرزندهای که دارد اصلأ قابل تقلید نیست.
شاه، بیبی، سرباز که هم از بازی ورق حکایت دارد و هم لابلای داستان معلوم میشود که نام فیلم و نمایشنامهای به همین نام است علاوه بر اینها در واقع بر نقشهای درایر، فرانتس و مارتا در این رمان عجیب و متفکرانه دلالت دارد.
تراژدی، کمدی و فاصله تعلیقوار این دو ژانر، با هنر ناباکوف به هم متصل شده و ما را در این داستان با خود همراه میکند.
شاه، بیبی، سرباز که هم از بازی ورق حکایت دارد و هم لابلای داستان معلوم میشود که نام فیلم و نمایشنامهای به همین نام است علاوه بر اینها در واقع بر نقشهای درایر، فرانتس و مارتا در این رمان عجیب و متفکرانه دلالت دارد.
تراژدی، کمدی و فاصله تعلیقوار این دو ژانر، با هنر ناباکوف به هم متصل شده و ما را در این داستان با خود همراه میکند.
March 8, 2018
Questo romanzo ha dovuto sudare per farsi apprezzare. Non so perché, ma all’inizio prevaleva una sensazione di avversione.
Forse la scrittura mi pareva leziosa e artefatta (prima esperienza con questo autore). Forse non avevo voglia di leggere questo tipo di storia (uffa, ancora un adulterio - eppure avevo scelto io di leggere questo libro, non me l’aveva prescritto il medico, e sapevo di cosa parlava), forse i personaggi mi ispiravano davvero troppa antipatia (che vi devo dire, c’è chi non ama quelli disperati e depressi, io ammetto di avere dei problemi con quelli cattivi - cattivi di quella cattiveria senza rimorsi - ho delle difficoltà a trovarli realistici), come se ci trovassi un cinismo che non mi apparteneva.
Poi non so cos’è successo. La bravura di Nabokov deve aver tracimato, mi ha dato uno strattone e mi ha tirato giù, dentro al romanzo, dentro questa scrittura che rende la lettura un’esperienza sensoriale, nella psicologia di questi personaggi così veri pur così esasperate caricature di se stessi, in questa storia che è una beffa, uno sberleffo, alla piccineria umana.
Nabokov, uno a zero per te.
Forse la scrittura mi pareva leziosa e artefatta (prima esperienza con questo autore). Forse non avevo voglia di leggere questo tipo di storia (uffa, ancora un adulterio - eppure avevo scelto io di leggere questo libro, non me l’aveva prescritto il medico, e sapevo di cosa parlava), forse i personaggi mi ispiravano davvero troppa antipatia (che vi devo dire, c’è chi non ama quelli disperati e depressi, io ammetto di avere dei problemi con quelli cattivi - cattivi di quella cattiveria senza rimorsi - ho delle difficoltà a trovarli realistici), come se ci trovassi un cinismo che non mi apparteneva.
Poi non so cos’è successo. La bravura di Nabokov deve aver tracimato, mi ha dato uno strattone e mi ha tirato giù, dentro al romanzo, dentro questa scrittura che rende la lettura un’esperienza sensoriale, nella psicologia di questi personaggi così veri pur così esasperate caricature di se stessi, in questa storia che è una beffa, uno sberleffo, alla piccineria umana.
Nabokov, uno a zero per te.
September 26, 2023
Nabokov's second novel, KING, QUEEN, KNAVE (1928) is a satirical version of the novel of adultery. All the characters are German and the action is set in Berlin. Lust, not love, is closely examined and the characters' bondage to lust gradually reveals its horrifying aspects. However, these are somewhat counteracted by the comic mode in which the story is told.
Young, inexperienced Franz (the "Knave") arrives in Berlin from the province and is given employment by his uncle, Kurt Dreyer (the "King"), out of whom he wishes to shamelessly "squeeze everything he possibly can". He falls in love with Dreyer's wife, Martha (the " Queen ") and, as soon as the affair is consummated, surrenders to her his body and his will.
Franz becomes a sort of automaton: his actions, his perceptions and thoughts become completely automatic. In the tradition of the novel of adultery, Franz eventually gets tired of his affair with Martha, however he not only obediently continues the affair but is prepared to carry out her sinister plans. I was very much reminded of LOLITA when I read this novel: the savage humor and the inquiry into the mechanics of the devaluation of love and the substitution for it of lust are already in embryonic form in this novel.
Young, inexperienced Franz (the "Knave") arrives in Berlin from the province and is given employment by his uncle, Kurt Dreyer (the "King"), out of whom he wishes to shamelessly "squeeze everything he possibly can". He falls in love with Dreyer's wife, Martha (the " Queen ") and, as soon as the affair is consummated, surrenders to her his body and his will.
Franz becomes a sort of automaton: his actions, his perceptions and thoughts become completely automatic. In the tradition of the novel of adultery, Franz eventually gets tired of his affair with Martha, however he not only obediently continues the affair but is prepared to carry out her sinister plans. I was very much reminded of LOLITA when I read this novel: the savage humor and the inquiry into the mechanics of the devaluation of love and the substitution for it of lust are already in embryonic form in this novel.
January 19, 2020
She was no Emma, and no Anna
Anyone who loves literary game-playing and spot-the-allusion should read this: it's a cornucopia of intertexts and literary inversions. Martha may be no Emma (Bovary) or Anna (Karenina) however much she follows them in 'the adultery plot', but her make-up does include elements of Terese (Raquin) as well as the femmes fatales of many a noir potboiler. And poor Franz has his Raskolnikov moments as he imagines being followed by a police inspector and pursued by letters from his anxious mother... There are even foreshadowings of later iconic scenes .
All this combined with the glittering prose style for which Nabokov is famous makes this compulsively readable, though I'd say the pleasures are almost all cerebral in comparison with some of his other books. There isn't the dark undertow of tragedy that we find in Pale Fire, for example, which gives emotional ballast to all the linguistic fireworks.
There's a lovely conceit which plays out throughout the novel of inanimate objects having emotions, life and agency ('the platform will begin to move past, carrying off on an unknown journey cigarette butts, used tickets, flecks of sunlight and spittle') which serves to disorient us delightfully as well as act as a contrast to the deliberately flattened characters of the human protagonists. The presence of 'automannequins', mechanical automatons that made me think of Coppelia, add to this spectrum along which sit predetermined movements and free agency. The characters are deliberately over-determined by their roles as prescribed by literary forebears: that 'king', 'queen', 'knave' of the title.
So this is perhaps the most playful of Nabokov's novels that I've read, though alert to issues of authoritative compulsion as Martha pushes Franz almost to his limits. I almost thought it was going to end in a certain way but Nabokov pulls back. Sparkling, erudite, alive to literary elements from 'high' culture to pop fiction , this doesn't have the tragic payoff of Pale Fire but is exuberant entertainment encased in scintillating prose.
Anyone who loves literary game-playing and spot-the-allusion should read this: it's a cornucopia of intertexts and literary inversions. Martha may be no Emma (Bovary) or Anna (Karenina) however much she follows them in 'the adultery plot', but her make-up does include elements of Terese (Raquin) as well as the femmes fatales of many a noir potboiler. And poor Franz has his Raskolnikov moments as he imagines being followed by a police inspector and pursued by letters from his anxious mother... There are even foreshadowings of later iconic scenes .
All this combined with the glittering prose style for which Nabokov is famous makes this compulsively readable, though I'd say the pleasures are almost all cerebral in comparison with some of his other books. There isn't the dark undertow of tragedy that we find in Pale Fire, for example, which gives emotional ballast to all the linguistic fireworks.
There's a lovely conceit which plays out throughout the novel of inanimate objects having emotions, life and agency ('the platform will begin to move past, carrying off on an unknown journey cigarette butts, used tickets, flecks of sunlight and spittle') which serves to disorient us delightfully as well as act as a contrast to the deliberately flattened characters of the human protagonists. The presence of 'automannequins', mechanical automatons that made me think of Coppelia, add to this spectrum along which sit predetermined movements and free agency. The characters are deliberately over-determined by their roles as prescribed by literary forebears: that 'king', 'queen', 'knave' of the title.
So this is perhaps the most playful of Nabokov's novels that I've read, though alert to issues of authoritative compulsion as Martha pushes Franz almost to his limits. I almost thought it was going to end in a certain way but Nabokov pulls back. Sparkling, erudite, alive to literary elements from 'high' culture to pop fiction , this doesn't have the tragic payoff of Pale Fire but is exuberant entertainment encased in scintillating prose.
July 1, 2022
Re, donna e tante esercitazioni di stile
Immaginatevi qualcuno che a mano libera riesca a fare precise righe sottili sovrapposte e che senza cambiare penna, ma solo angolazione, di tanto in tanto ne faccia di più marcate quando parla di desiderio fisico. La precisione di Nabokov è invidiabile, ha un controllo totale della mano, nessuna fretta, nessun tremito. Quelle righe sono ammirevoli, solo avvicinando lo sguardo, come farebbe un miope, si riesce a stabilire che sono formate da tanti piccoli sussulti. Il primo capitolo è davvero ottimo, racconta il viaggio in treno dei tre personaggi che saranno protagonisti del libro, i pensieri erotici del più giovane di loro intervallano descrizioni accurate di ciò che si vede sul treno e dal treno
Poi la pioggia cominciò a picchiettare dolcemente sul finestrino: un rivoletto serpeggiava sul vetro, si fermava esitante, per poi riprendere la sua rapida corsa a zigzag verso il basso. Oltre il finestrino del corridoio, uno stretto tramonto arancione finiva di ardere sotto una massa di nuvole temporalesche
Ciò che succede fuori e ciò che accade dentro
...Aggrottò le sopracciglia sotto lo sguardo luminoso e indifferente di lei e, quando la vide distogliere il viso, calcolò mentalmente, come se le sue dita stessero spostando rumorosamente le palline di un invisibile pallottoliere, quanti giorni della sua vita avrebbe dato per possedere quella donna
Il godimento con cui si leggono i primi capitoli finisce nel momento in cui l’adulterio riduce la storia ad una sordida storia di corna nella quale la donna e il gobbo (qui da noi il fante lo chiamiamo così) si coalizzano per far fuori il re. I potenziali assassini mi annoiano, la preparazione del delitto mi indispettisce, a meno che esso non sia per vendetta e qui l’unico torto del re è possedere il denaro che consentirebbe agli amanti di condurre una vita agiata.
La pianificazione dell’omicidio è in alcuni passi volutamente grottesca, per farsi venire l’anima nera, gli amanti vi han passato due mani di tinta. La terza ed ultima parte è un delirio febbrile che si legge solo perché ormai si vuol capire come finirà il romanzo; delle linee precise dei primi capitoli non vi è più traccia, la prosa raffinata è stata prima adulterata e poi simbolizzata.
L’introduzione dell’autore, scritta per gli iniziati, io l’ho letta alla fine. Nabokov lascia intendere di aver ritoccato ad arte il suo romanzo in età adulta per consentirgli di invecchiare meglio, lascia intendere anche di voler onorare il suo debito verso Flaubert (trovavo odiosa Martha, lui mi ha suggerito il perché: il suo temperamento è modellato su quello di Emma Bovary) ma di non dover niente a Balzac e pochi spiccioli a Joyce e Freud.
Nemmeno io credo di dovere niente a Nabokov, questo probabilmente sarà il suo ultimo romanzo per me.
Trovo che sia votato alla letteratura al punto di sacrificare qualsiasi verità in nome dello stile. Per lui tutto è contesto e pretesto per far mostra del suo sopraffino esercizio letterario. Leggere Nabokov è come bere da un bicchiere vuoto.
Immaginatevi qualcuno che a mano libera riesca a fare precise righe sottili sovrapposte e che senza cambiare penna, ma solo angolazione, di tanto in tanto ne faccia di più marcate quando parla di desiderio fisico. La precisione di Nabokov è invidiabile, ha un controllo totale della mano, nessuna fretta, nessun tremito. Quelle righe sono ammirevoli, solo avvicinando lo sguardo, come farebbe un miope, si riesce a stabilire che sono formate da tanti piccoli sussulti. Il primo capitolo è davvero ottimo, racconta il viaggio in treno dei tre personaggi che saranno protagonisti del libro, i pensieri erotici del più giovane di loro intervallano descrizioni accurate di ciò che si vede sul treno e dal treno
Poi la pioggia cominciò a picchiettare dolcemente sul finestrino: un rivoletto serpeggiava sul vetro, si fermava esitante, per poi riprendere la sua rapida corsa a zigzag verso il basso. Oltre il finestrino del corridoio, uno stretto tramonto arancione finiva di ardere sotto una massa di nuvole temporalesche
Ciò che succede fuori e ciò che accade dentro
...Aggrottò le sopracciglia sotto lo sguardo luminoso e indifferente di lei e, quando la vide distogliere il viso, calcolò mentalmente, come se le sue dita stessero spostando rumorosamente le palline di un invisibile pallottoliere, quanti giorni della sua vita avrebbe dato per possedere quella donna
Il godimento con cui si leggono i primi capitoli finisce nel momento in cui l’adulterio riduce la storia ad una sordida storia di corna nella quale la donna e il gobbo (qui da noi il fante lo chiamiamo così) si coalizzano per far fuori il re. I potenziali assassini mi annoiano, la preparazione del delitto mi indispettisce, a meno che esso non sia per vendetta e qui l’unico torto del re è possedere il denaro che consentirebbe agli amanti di condurre una vita agiata.
La pianificazione dell’omicidio è in alcuni passi volutamente grottesca, per farsi venire l’anima nera, gli amanti vi han passato due mani di tinta. La terza ed ultima parte è un delirio febbrile che si legge solo perché ormai si vuol capire come finirà il romanzo; delle linee precise dei primi capitoli non vi è più traccia, la prosa raffinata è stata prima adulterata e poi simbolizzata.
L’introduzione dell’autore, scritta per gli iniziati, io l’ho letta alla fine. Nabokov lascia intendere di aver ritoccato ad arte il suo romanzo in età adulta per consentirgli di invecchiare meglio, lascia intendere anche di voler onorare il suo debito verso Flaubert (trovavo odiosa Martha, lui mi ha suggerito il perché: il suo temperamento è modellato su quello di Emma Bovary) ma di non dover niente a Balzac e pochi spiccioli a Joyce e Freud.
Nemmeno io credo di dovere niente a Nabokov, questo probabilmente sarà il suo ultimo romanzo per me.
Trovo che sia votato alla letteratura al punto di sacrificare qualsiasi verità in nome dello stile. Per lui tutto è contesto e pretesto per far mostra del suo sopraffino esercizio letterario. Leggere Nabokov è come bere da un bicchiere vuoto.
January 19, 2014
What kind of car I drive, the girls I used to date, personal hygiene: these are all things for which I’ve never really had high standards. A book by Vladimir Nabokov, now that’s a different story. For a good portion of my reading, I was seriously considering giving this a mere two stars. It takes way too long for the plot to develop—because of this the pacing is off and parts are simply boring—and one can really see the artist behind the book. By that I mean that some of Nabokov’s brushstrokes are a little too heavy to make this a masterpiece. For one, the irony is laid on thickly, even when he tries to invert it. Take, for example, in mid tryst one adulterous lover to another mentioning “Imagine if [your husband] were suddenly to come in now—just like that” and she reassuring him “Oh he won’t be coming home for a week yet. That’s as sure as death” (155, 157). All the while, of course, the reader knows that he is returning early. The sounds of someone entering the house downstairs make both the reader and the lovers nervous, nervous enough in the latter’s case to call it a night. But it’s only a false alarm—a close call—for despite the setup, the husband does not arrive until the lover has safely left. After all, “[the husband] was too naively self-centered to realize how thoroughly those sudden returns had been exploited in ribald tales” (154). Then there’s the later chance encounter that the husband has with an ex-lover of his. Without knowing anything, she tells him his wife is likely cheating on him, which he faithfully scoffs at. At least Nabokov sums this one up accurately: “On the whole, an unnecessary encounter” (176). Then there’s the time when the husband is walking home imagining/inventing all of the horrible secrets/misdeeds that every person he passes must hide, thereby warping these people’s images to him. That is, until he finally arrives home and feels “a pleasant relief at seeing at last two familiar, two perfectly human faces” (209). Finally, there’s the ultimate irony of the ending that I’m not even sure can rightly be termed “irony” because it is clear enough what will happen, thereby preventing it from actually upsetting one’s expectations.
Another Nabokovian staple that is a bit too heavy-handed are all of fate’s subtle coincidences. Because they are not so subtle and because they don’t really contribute to the story, I find them a bit superfluous. There is the coincidence of the “meeting” on the train; the coincidence of the inventor staying in the same hotel room as Franz (107, 253); there are the numerous parallel car crashes (49, 115, 129). These are Nabokovian, but they just don’t achieve what I have come to feel are Nabokovian standards. (That really makes sense since this is one of his earlier works and it’s one of his final works that I’m reading.)
Want some unexpected irony after all that complaining? I also nearly gave this four stars. “Why?” you may ask. Well I’m glad to tell you: this book really made me think. Here’s what I’m thinking about: Is the story all a dream? Knowing whether or not it’s a dream wouldn’t change my enjoyment at all, but it presents a puzzle. And those are often my favorite parts of Nabokov books. This time, since I don’t have a definitive answer I’m stuck mulling it over. Anyone care to help?
If so, here’s reason for my hypothesis:
- It all starts with chapter 2, which begins with all that “false awakening, being nearly the next layer of a dream…and what seemed reality abruptly loses the tingle and tang of reality” stuff (20). That introduction ends with, what is to me, the central question: “Is this reality the final reality, or just a new deceptive dream?” (21).
-So much depends on how one reads the following: “And in order to free himself from this gold-tinted vagueness still so strongly reminiscent of a dream, he reached toward the night table and groped for his glasses. And only when he touched them, or more precisely the handkerchief in which they were wrapped as in a winding sheet, only then did Franz remember that absurd mishap in a lower layer of a dream” (21). In that mishap he broke his glasses. How does one read “were wrapped”? Are the glasses STILL wrapped there? If so then he did not break them and not only was that but everything subsequent is a dream. If they aren’t there, then he did break them…but I think everything could still be another layer of the dream.
-The rest of the chapter he’s relatively blind without his glasses, giving everything a dream-like quality. There are soooo many examples to pick from this chapter alone, I’m just listing the chapter. What follows is all from other chapters.
Here’s my evidence:
-“The workmen were moving as in a dream” (52)
-“suffering as if in a dream” (63)
-“With dream-like unexpectedness they emerged” (69)
-“moving with the slow motion of a sleepwalker” (74)
-“sleep, with a bow, handed him the keys to the city” (74)
-“already lost in a dream” (76)
-“how much will you pay me for dreaming” (89)
-“I am duty-bound to believe in a dream but to believe in the embodiment of that dream—Puh” (90)
-“Your dream is enchanting” (90) A description of this book???
-“Stop harping on dreams, sir” (90) Advice to me????
-“maybe I’ll see your invention in my next dream” (91)
-“when the express pulls out of a dreamy station” (97)
-“everything changed. As happens in dreams…every time we dream of it” (104)
-“noble slowness of a sleepwalker’s progress” (109)
-“Franz, too, tried to shake off this strange drowsiness” (111)
-“despite her long-standing dream” (113)
-“he could not remember afterwards how he said good-by, or put on his overcoat, or reached the street” (128)
-“Let’s dream a little” (134)
-“One cannot deposit dreams at the bank” (135)
-“Franz was oblivious to the corrosive probity of his pleasant daydreams” (138)
-“he lay supine on his bed not knowing whether he was asleep or awake” (153)
-“He would dream at night of a treacherous handshake. Half-awake, he would recoil” (162)
-“she could not rid herself of the dream of magic powders” (168)
-“trying to persuade himself that it was only a bad dream” (186)
-“some kind of atrocious dreamland was encroaching upon her” (197)
-“a curious debility blurred his movements as if he were existing only because existing were the proper thing to do” (200)
-“ephemeral glints of consciousness; he would instantly revert to semi-existence. Then at night in his drugged sleep” (202)
-“fatal veil between him and every dream that beckoned to him” (224)
-“But he still saw it all as if through a dream” (245)
-“like a recurrent dream image or a subtle leitmotiv” (254)
-“Barely awake and still blinking” (256)
-The very end.
My Conclusion (maybe):
-This is like the end of Bend Sinister, where the author breaks through and it becomes clear that it was a book. It’s just more subtle. There’s the weird-ass landlord who decides everything is a story of his creation (226-228), and there’s the (directly mentioned leitmotiv) “foreign girl in the blue dress with a remarkably handsome man in an old-fashioned dinner jacket…Sometimes the man carried a butterfly net” (254). Thus, Franz’s adventure is nothing more than a dream, a magician’s invention, an author’s story.
Another Nabokovian staple that is a bit too heavy-handed are all of fate’s subtle coincidences. Because they are not so subtle and because they don’t really contribute to the story, I find them a bit superfluous. There is the coincidence of the “meeting” on the train; the coincidence of the inventor staying in the same hotel room as Franz (107, 253); there are the numerous parallel car crashes (49, 115, 129). These are Nabokovian, but they just don’t achieve what I have come to feel are Nabokovian standards. (That really makes sense since this is one of his earlier works and it’s one of his final works that I’m reading.)
Want some unexpected irony after all that complaining? I also nearly gave this four stars. “Why?” you may ask. Well I’m glad to tell you: this book really made me think. Here’s what I’m thinking about: Is the story all a dream? Knowing whether or not it’s a dream wouldn’t change my enjoyment at all, but it presents a puzzle. And those are often my favorite parts of Nabokov books. This time, since I don’t have a definitive answer I’m stuck mulling it over. Anyone care to help?
If so, here’s reason for my hypothesis:
- It all starts with chapter 2, which begins with all that “false awakening, being nearly the next layer of a dream…and what seemed reality abruptly loses the tingle and tang of reality” stuff (20). That introduction ends with, what is to me, the central question: “Is this reality the final reality, or just a new deceptive dream?” (21).
-So much depends on how one reads the following: “And in order to free himself from this gold-tinted vagueness still so strongly reminiscent of a dream, he reached toward the night table and groped for his glasses. And only when he touched them, or more precisely the handkerchief in which they were wrapped as in a winding sheet, only then did Franz remember that absurd mishap in a lower layer of a dream” (21). In that mishap he broke his glasses. How does one read “were wrapped”? Are the glasses STILL wrapped there? If so then he did not break them and not only was that but everything subsequent is a dream. If they aren’t there, then he did break them…but I think everything could still be another layer of the dream.
-The rest of the chapter he’s relatively blind without his glasses, giving everything a dream-like quality. There are soooo many examples to pick from this chapter alone, I’m just listing the chapter. What follows is all from other chapters.
Here’s my evidence:
-“The workmen were moving as in a dream” (52)
-“suffering as if in a dream” (63)
-“With dream-like unexpectedness they emerged” (69)
-“moving with the slow motion of a sleepwalker” (74)
-“sleep, with a bow, handed him the keys to the city” (74)
-“already lost in a dream” (76)
-“how much will you pay me for dreaming” (89)
-“I am duty-bound to believe in a dream but to believe in the embodiment of that dream—Puh” (90)
-“Your dream is enchanting” (90) A description of this book???
-“Stop harping on dreams, sir” (90) Advice to me????
-“maybe I’ll see your invention in my next dream” (91)
-“when the express pulls out of a dreamy station” (97)
-“everything changed. As happens in dreams…every time we dream of it” (104)
-“noble slowness of a sleepwalker’s progress” (109)
-“Franz, too, tried to shake off this strange drowsiness” (111)
-“despite her long-standing dream” (113)
-“he could not remember afterwards how he said good-by, or put on his overcoat, or reached the street” (128)
-“Let’s dream a little” (134)
-“One cannot deposit dreams at the bank” (135)
-“Franz was oblivious to the corrosive probity of his pleasant daydreams” (138)
-“he lay supine on his bed not knowing whether he was asleep or awake” (153)
-“He would dream at night of a treacherous handshake. Half-awake, he would recoil” (162)
-“she could not rid herself of the dream of magic powders” (168)
-“trying to persuade himself that it was only a bad dream” (186)
-“some kind of atrocious dreamland was encroaching upon her” (197)
-“a curious debility blurred his movements as if he were existing only because existing were the proper thing to do” (200)
-“ephemeral glints of consciousness; he would instantly revert to semi-existence. Then at night in his drugged sleep” (202)
-“fatal veil between him and every dream that beckoned to him” (224)
-“But he still saw it all as if through a dream” (245)
-“like a recurrent dream image or a subtle leitmotiv” (254)
-“Barely awake and still blinking” (256)
-The very end.
My Conclusion (maybe):
-This is like the end of Bend Sinister, where the author breaks through and it becomes clear that it was a book. It’s just more subtle. There’s the weird-ass landlord who decides everything is a story of his creation (226-228), and there’s the (directly mentioned leitmotiv) “foreign girl in the blue dress with a remarkably handsome man in an old-fashioned dinner jacket…Sometimes the man carried a butterfly net” (254). Thus, Franz’s adventure is nothing more than a dream, a magician’s invention, an author’s story.
August 16, 2021
Kartais užtenka vienos knygos ir supranti, kad autorius visiškai tavo. Taip man nutiko su Nabokovu ir jo "Lolita". Likau pakerėta rašymo stiliumi, estetika, elegancija ir buvo visiškai aišku, kad "Lolita" nebus paskutinė mano skaityta autoriaus knyga. Leidyklos "Jotema" išleista Nabokovo knyga "Karalius, dama, valetas" sudomino ne tik dėl to, kad ją rašė Nabokovas, bet ir dėl to, kad tai ankstyvojo jo kūrybos periodo vaisius. Visuomet įdomu palyginti, kaip atrodo brandūs kūriniais su kūrybos pradžia. Tuo metu Nabokovas gyveno Vokietijoje, o ir rašė ne angliškai, bet rusiškai. Net ir pasirašinėjo kitu slapyvardžiu - Sirinas.
"Karalius, dama ir valetas" siužetas paprastas ir net šiek tiek banalus. Yra meilės trikampio motyvas. Vyresnė moteris įsimyli savo vyro sūnėną. Jai pavyksta vaikinuką suvilioti ir už vyro nugaros užmegzti slaptą romaną. Grimztant gilyn į šį romaną, užgimsta šaltakraujiškas planas, ką daryti su savo vyru. Apie tai plačiau ir kuo viskas baigsis galėsite sužinoti perskaitę romaną. Tiek trumpai apie siužetą, kuris tikrai nėra pretenzingas, bet vis tik, manau, kad dėmesio centre čia ne ką rašo Nabokovas, bet kaip skleidžiasi jo pasakojimas, kaip jis dėsto savo mintis. O jis tikras žodžio meistras. Jau matosi ir to vėlesniojo brandaus autoriaus braižas - rafinuota pasakojimo maniera, ironija, didelis poreikis estetikai.
Pritrūko daugiau psichologijos. Veikėjų psichologiniai portretai tarsi praplaukė paviršiumi. Norėjosi detaliau ir giliau.
Kam skaityti? Tiems, kurie myli Nabokovą ir nori susipažinti su ankstyvąja jo kūryba.
"Karalius, dama ir valetas" siužetas paprastas ir net šiek tiek banalus. Yra meilės trikampio motyvas. Vyresnė moteris įsimyli savo vyro sūnėną. Jai pavyksta vaikinuką suvilioti ir už vyro nugaros užmegzti slaptą romaną. Grimztant gilyn į šį romaną, užgimsta šaltakraujiškas planas, ką daryti su savo vyru. Apie tai plačiau ir kuo viskas baigsis galėsite sužinoti perskaitę romaną. Tiek trumpai apie siužetą, kuris tikrai nėra pretenzingas, bet vis tik, manau, kad dėmesio centre čia ne ką rašo Nabokovas, bet kaip skleidžiasi jo pasakojimas, kaip jis dėsto savo mintis. O jis tikras žodžio meistras. Jau matosi ir to vėlesniojo brandaus autoriaus braižas - rafinuota pasakojimo maniera, ironija, didelis poreikis estetikai.
Pritrūko daugiau psichologijos. Veikėjų psichologiniai portretai tarsi praplaukė paviršiumi. Norėjosi detaliau ir giliau.
Kam skaityti? Tiems, kurie myli Nabokovą ir nori susipažinti su ankstyvąja jo kūryba.
September 5, 2020
King, Queen, Knave is about an uncle, aunt and nephew. The nephew has been offered a position at his uncle’s clothing emporium in Berlin. The nephew falls for his aunt, thirteen years his senior. He’s sexually attracted to her. He’s twenty one. She’s thirty four. The aunt’s and uncle’s marriage has gone stale.
Before jumping to any conclusion about who may be in the wrong, one must know more. Call this a character study of the uncle, aunt and nephew. None of the three are angels. Adultery, trickery and possibly murder are elements of the plot. It is 1928 and the setting is Berlin and a resort town not far distant.
Perhaps the story sounds nasty, with a plot not terribly original. It is instead plucky and fun, a cerebral tragi-comedy. What makes this special, while other novels having a similar plot are just ordinary, is the writing and the humor. Nabokov plays with words. He draws allusions. He captures the feel of situations and places, be it a train ride, a morning on the beach or a room in a boarding house. You read, you recognize and remember similar situations. You marvel at how perfectly Nabokov has captured your own experiences. Little details make all the difference in the telling of a story, and Nabokov gets it right. It is the details, the humor and the way Nabokov plays with words that make this book special, a book above the ordinary.
I was about to give the book four stars, but the tying up of the strings at the book’s end is quick, lacks the humor and the play on words that make Nabokov’s writing special. I don’t dislike what happens at the end, but the writing had all of a sudden become ordinary. For this reason, I have given the book three rather than four stars.
This, Nabokov’s second novel, is one of his ten written originally in Russian. It is translated by his son, with the author’s collaboration. Words are an important element of Nabokov’s stories, making a good translation essential.
Christopher Lane narrates the audiobook. He does dramatize. Until I got into the swing of the story, this annoyed me. By the end I enjoyed it. Three stars for the narration; it’s good.
If you are a Nabokov fan, you will definitely like this a lot. It is not the story that is special, but the prose and the humor.
****************
*Lolita 5 stars
*Ada, or Ardor: A Family Chronicle 5 stars
*Speak, Memory 5 stars
*Mary 4 stars
*Laughter in the Dark 4 stars
*Glory 4 stars
*The Gift 3 stars
*King, Queen, Knave 3 stars
*Pale Fire 2 stars
*Pnin 1 star
*Despair 1 star
*Transparent Things 1 star
*The Real Life of Sebastian Knight TBR
Before jumping to any conclusion about who may be in the wrong, one must know more. Call this a character study of the uncle, aunt and nephew. None of the three are angels. Adultery, trickery and possibly murder are elements of the plot. It is 1928 and the setting is Berlin and a resort town not far distant.
Perhaps the story sounds nasty, with a plot not terribly original. It is instead plucky and fun, a cerebral tragi-comedy. What makes this special, while other novels having a similar plot are just ordinary, is the writing and the humor. Nabokov plays with words. He draws allusions. He captures the feel of situations and places, be it a train ride, a morning on the beach or a room in a boarding house. You read, you recognize and remember similar situations. You marvel at how perfectly Nabokov has captured your own experiences. Little details make all the difference in the telling of a story, and Nabokov gets it right. It is the details, the humor and the way Nabokov plays with words that make this book special, a book above the ordinary.
I was about to give the book four stars, but the tying up of the strings at the book’s end is quick, lacks the humor and the play on words that make Nabokov’s writing special. I don’t dislike what happens at the end, but the writing had all of a sudden become ordinary. For this reason, I have given the book three rather than four stars.
This, Nabokov’s second novel, is one of his ten written originally in Russian. It is translated by his son, with the author’s collaboration. Words are an important element of Nabokov’s stories, making a good translation essential.
Christopher Lane narrates the audiobook. He does dramatize. Until I got into the swing of the story, this annoyed me. By the end I enjoyed it. Three stars for the narration; it’s good.
If you are a Nabokov fan, you will definitely like this a lot. It is not the story that is special, but the prose and the humor.
****************
*Lolita 5 stars
*Ada, or Ardor: A Family Chronicle 5 stars
*Speak, Memory 5 stars
*Mary 4 stars
*Laughter in the Dark 4 stars
*Glory 4 stars
*The Gift 3 stars
*King, Queen, Knave 3 stars
*Pale Fire 2 stars
*Pnin 1 star
*Despair 1 star
*Transparent Things 1 star
*The Real Life of Sebastian Knight TBR
August 19, 2021
87th book of 2021.
Continuing with my chronological romp through Nabokov's early Russian novels I backtrack slightly to his second novel, King, Queen, Knave, on account of availability. This one has pretty good reviews but is the Nabo I've liked the least recently. An uncle, aunt and nephew: Franz is a fairly pathetic character who goes to work with his uncle and ends up in an affair with his uncle's wife, Martha. Though dripping with viscous irony, sometimes too much to bear, the novel drags at a slow pace. The plot takes some time to get going with a long long part of the opening focussed on Franz's train ride towards Germany. It is saved from utter boredom with an interesting plot device in that Franz loses his glasses and Nabokov showboats his prose ability with wonderful almost-blind descriptions of the world in a haze, a mass of colour, a fog of vision. The rest is fairly inevitable, sneaking around, dipping into the characters' heads, moving towards the only foreseeable outcome and novel question: are they caught in the end? Though deliciously written, I found it mostly underwhelming and dull at times, overwrought, even. I did want to read all his Russian novels before the end of the year though I'm unsure if I'll quite manage it. I've got 4/5 to go, depending if I count The Enchanter, which was written in Russian but published much later, posthumously. Either way, next up, The Eye, as I've already read his third novel, The Luzhin Defence.
Continuing with my chronological romp through Nabokov's early Russian novels I backtrack slightly to his second novel, King, Queen, Knave, on account of availability. This one has pretty good reviews but is the Nabo I've liked the least recently. An uncle, aunt and nephew: Franz is a fairly pathetic character who goes to work with his uncle and ends up in an affair with his uncle's wife, Martha. Though dripping with viscous irony, sometimes too much to bear, the novel drags at a slow pace. The plot takes some time to get going with a long long part of the opening focussed on Franz's train ride towards Germany. It is saved from utter boredom with an interesting plot device in that Franz loses his glasses and Nabokov showboats his prose ability with wonderful almost-blind descriptions of the world in a haze, a mass of colour, a fog of vision. The rest is fairly inevitable, sneaking around, dipping into the characters' heads, moving towards the only foreseeable outcome and novel question: are they caught in the end? Though deliciously written, I found it mostly underwhelming and dull at times, overwrought, even. I did want to read all his Russian novels before the end of the year though I'm unsure if I'll quite manage it. I've got 4/5 to go, depending if I count The Enchanter, which was written in Russian but published much later, posthumously. Either way, next up, The Eye, as I've already read his third novel, The Luzhin Defence.
April 7, 2017
Bir seyahatte daldığım bir sahafta rastlayıp, biraz zarar görmüş olsa da nefis cildi ile bu güzel baskıyla ters orantılı fiyatının cazibesine kapılıp almıştım. Nabokov'un gençlik dönemi (28 yaşında yazmış) ürünlerinden. Böyle bir romanı olduğunu dahi bilmiyordum, hoş bir sürpriz oldu.
Konusu aslında klişe. Zengin ve orta yaşlı kocasının parası dışında hiçbir şeyinden hazzetmeyen 30'larındaki bir kadın ile amcası olan kadının kocasının yanında çalışmak üzere Berlin'e gelen 20'lerindeki taşralı delikanlı arasında yeşeren tutkulu bir aşk ve bu aşıkların kocayı ortadan kaldırma çabaları. Fakat tabii Nabokov gibi birisi yazınca, klişe bir konu da bir edebiyat olayına dönüşebiliyor. Kendine has, karmaşık olabilen ve oyunbaz üslubu olay örgüsünün ötesine geçebiliyor. Ama olayların akışında da gerilim, merak duygusu iyi kurgulanmış.
Kitap ilk kez 1928'de Rusça olarak basılmış. Benim okuduğum 1968 basımının İngilizce tercümesini Nabokov'un işbirliğiyle oğlu Dimitri yapmış. Bizde İletişim basmış, umarım tercümesi iyidir. Çünkü Nabokov gerçekten tercüme edilmesi kolay bir yazar değil.
Konusu aslında klişe. Zengin ve orta yaşlı kocasının parası dışında hiçbir şeyinden hazzetmeyen 30'larındaki bir kadın ile amcası olan kadının kocasının yanında çalışmak üzere Berlin'e gelen 20'lerindeki taşralı delikanlı arasında yeşeren tutkulu bir aşk ve bu aşıkların kocayı ortadan kaldırma çabaları. Fakat tabii Nabokov gibi birisi yazınca, klişe bir konu da bir edebiyat olayına dönüşebiliyor. Kendine has, karmaşık olabilen ve oyunbaz üslubu olay örgüsünün ötesine geçebiliyor. Ama olayların akışında da gerilim, merak duygusu iyi kurgulanmış.
Kitap ilk kez 1928'de Rusça olarak basılmış. Benim okuduğum 1968 basımının İngilizce tercümesini Nabokov'un işbirliğiyle oğlu Dimitri yapmış. Bizde İletişim basmış, umarım tercümesi iyidir. Çünkü Nabokov gerçekten tercüme edilmesi kolay bir yazar değil.
June 29, 2022
This is one my favourite books of all time, from the originality of the opening page (the clock hand's 'once a minute gesture' that 'will set the entire world in motion') to every page thereafter.
The fact is, very, very few authors (no-one?) can touch Nab when it comes to metaphor, intellect, descriptive precision at large, and of course, he just happens to have arguably greatest sense of humour of anyone who ever lived to top it all off.
The opening sequence contains such a remarkable description of the sensation and shapes of a train disembarking that you almost have to hold on to something firm to prevent you sliding away with it.
Then there are the silken, truly exquisite meanderings through a subterranean world of the 'automannequins', about which I will not ruin your enjoyment.
This is vintage Nabokov - the MIND of Nabokov at its most self-indulgent, mesmerising best, if you will.
Every single page of this book contains moments as good as this:
'The city shimmered and fell in fantastic folds, not held up by anything, a discarnate iridescence limply suspended in the azure autumnal air...and suddenly a sunbeam, a gleam of glass, would stab him in the pupil.'
'...a famous young man who flitted all summer from resort to resort like a velvet butterfly.'
'The fizzy little stars of champagne pricked an unfamiliar tongue, without warming her blood or quenching her thirst.'
Some people have mentioned shallow characterisation, but I think the main focus here is the humour and the descriptions - everything is fairly satitical, often how Nabokov liked to play things.
I can't speak highly enough of this book, and much preferred it to several Nabokov works that are more widespreadly read (so to speak). Massive fan of 'Speak, Memory' and the Short Stories too - incidentally the style of KQK is reminiscent of several of Nabokov's most stylistically impressive short stories.
Perhaps not a 'masterpiece' in the most expansive sense, but equally enjoyable as many works considered masterpieces for reasons of exquisite combinations of words, page after page.
The fact is, very, very few authors (no-one?) can touch Nab when it comes to metaphor, intellect, descriptive precision at large, and of course, he just happens to have arguably greatest sense of humour of anyone who ever lived to top it all off.
The opening sequence contains such a remarkable description of the sensation and shapes of a train disembarking that you almost have to hold on to something firm to prevent you sliding away with it.
Then there are the silken, truly exquisite meanderings through a subterranean world of the 'automannequins', about which I will not ruin your enjoyment.
This is vintage Nabokov - the MIND of Nabokov at its most self-indulgent, mesmerising best, if you will.
Every single page of this book contains moments as good as this:
'The city shimmered and fell in fantastic folds, not held up by anything, a discarnate iridescence limply suspended in the azure autumnal air...and suddenly a sunbeam, a gleam of glass, would stab him in the pupil.'
'...a famous young man who flitted all summer from resort to resort like a velvet butterfly.'
'The fizzy little stars of champagne pricked an unfamiliar tongue, without warming her blood or quenching her thirst.'
Some people have mentioned shallow characterisation, but I think the main focus here is the humour and the descriptions - everything is fairly satitical, often how Nabokov liked to play things.
I can't speak highly enough of this book, and much preferred it to several Nabokov works that are more widespreadly read (so to speak). Massive fan of 'Speak, Memory' and the Short Stories too - incidentally the style of KQK is reminiscent of several of Nabokov's most stylistically impressive short stories.
Perhaps not a 'masterpiece' in the most expansive sense, but equally enjoyable as many works considered masterpieces for reasons of exquisite combinations of words, page after page.
August 21, 2021
4:31
Finish...
Finish...
July 7, 2019
The writing is superb. The characters and plot both reminded me quite a bit of An American Tragedy with Martha and Franz splitting Clyde Griffith's personality between them. This one differs quite a bit though with all the hints and foreshadowing of nazism. It comes through quite directly with Martha's attitude towards foreigners and eerily with Franz who we are told will some day be "guilty of worse sins than avunculicide". Yikes! Franz is portrayed as a budding nazi in other ways as well as he becomes increasingly unable to think for himself and only responds to Martha's harsh commands.
One of my criteria for five stars is that it has to be something I would be interested in re-reading and this is the rare Nabokov that I probably won't be revisiting but it's just shy of that level.
One of my criteria for five stars is that it has to be something I would be interested in re-reading and this is the rare Nabokov that I probably won't be revisiting but it's just shy of that level.
September 4, 2021
‘King, Queen, Knave’ represents the first flowering of Nabokov’s genius, the petals of which fall deciduously and deliriously throughout the novel. From Franz’s impressions of Berlin as a whirlwind of colours after he loses his glasses, to the little details only Nabokov is able to imbue his novels with, to the farcical and solipsistic characters, hopelessly tangled up in the web the writer, who twice makes and appearance, weaves around the novel, entrapped by the caprices of their creator. In many ways ‘King, Queen, Knave’ is the most quintessentially Nabokovian written in Russian aside from ‘The Gift’ the sense of whimsy mixed with vituperation he is able to create is only really replicated in some of his English language novels such as ‘Pnin’ and ‘Pale Fire’.
Essentially ‘King, Queen, Knave’ follows the story of Franz, Dreyer and Martha, a trio caught up in a love triangle so banal that one of them is blissfully unaware, the other vaguely indifferent and the other caught up in a passion which can only be explained, as with Emma Bovary, with the excitement of the affair rather than the attractiveness of her lover. Yet, beneath the banality Nabokov is able to constantly weave beauty, from the delicate flickers of sunlight on the street pavement to the impressionistic renderings of a city from the point-of-view of a half-blind Franz:
“Franz reached a plausible street corner. After much fussing and squinting he discovered the red blur of a bust stop which rippled and wavered like the support of a bathhouse when you dive under it. Almost directly the image of a yellow bus came into being”
‘King, Queen, Knave’ is worth reading if only for the chance to become accustomed to Nabokov’s brilliance and to the aesthetic ideas which formed the base of all his art and which he continued to explore in his other novels.
Essentially ‘King, Queen, Knave’ follows the story of Franz, Dreyer and Martha, a trio caught up in a love triangle so banal that one of them is blissfully unaware, the other vaguely indifferent and the other caught up in a passion which can only be explained, as with Emma Bovary, with the excitement of the affair rather than the attractiveness of her lover. Yet, beneath the banality Nabokov is able to constantly weave beauty, from the delicate flickers of sunlight on the street pavement to the impressionistic renderings of a city from the point-of-view of a half-blind Franz:
“Franz reached a plausible street corner. After much fussing and squinting he discovered the red blur of a bust stop which rippled and wavered like the support of a bathhouse when you dive under it. Almost directly the image of a yellow bus came into being”
‘King, Queen, Knave’ is worth reading if only for the chance to become accustomed to Nabokov’s brilliance and to the aesthetic ideas which formed the base of all his art and which he continued to explore in his other novels.
May 9, 2018
خوب بود گرچه اوایل کتاب گفنم چه کتاب معرکه ایه اما بعد که تا آخر خوندم دیدم واقعا به همون قدرت ادامه نداشت حتی با این که نویسنده خیلی از جاها رو در ترجمه انگلیسی که پسرش انجام داده حذف کرده و پایانش هم عوض کرده اما باز هم میتونست کم حجم تر باشه و البته کمی هیجان انگیزتر؛ تعلیق های کتاب در آخر داشت خسته کننده میشد و پایان عجیب و الکی پیچیده اش هم کمک چندانی به کلیت کتاب نکرد که مثل اوایل کتاب قوی باشه.
February 21, 2019
درس نویسندگی؛ از نظر توصیفها و شرحها و بکگراند کاراکترها، و همینطور مصداقی بر جملهی معروفِ «همهی پیرنگهای داستانی قبلاً نوشته شدن، مهم اینه که تو اونها رو چطور بنویسی.»
ناباکوف خط داستانیِ تکراری و دستمالیشده رو میتونه جوری بنویسه که کرکوپر همه بریزه.
پینوشت؛ پشت پوستهی شیرین و بانشاط و بیقیدش، خیلی دردآور بود برام. نمیدونم چرا.
پینوشت ۲؛ حضور نویسنده و زنش هم توی دو فصل آخر جذاب بود برام. و همینطور ارجاعهای بامزه به مادام بوواری و آنا کارنینا.
ناباکوف خط داستانیِ تکراری و دستمالیشده رو میتونه جوری بنویسه که کرکوپر همه بریزه.
پینوشت؛ پشت پوستهی شیرین و بانشاط و بیقیدش، خیلی دردآور بود برام. نمیدونم چرا.
پینوشت ۲؛ حضور نویسنده و زنش هم توی دو فصل آخر جذاب بود برام. و همینطور ارجاعهای بامزه به مادام بوواری و آنا کارنینا.
March 20, 2023
بسیار ناباکوف رو دوست دارم. لولیتا همیشه از بهترین های من برای پیشنهاد کتاب بوده و هست و همین طور پنین.
کتاب شاه، بی بی، سرباز اما کمی متفاوته با بقیه کارهای ناباکوف. از اولین رمان هاشه و نویسنده هنوز اون سبک عالی سال های بعد رو پیدا نکرده. اما طرح اصلی این کتاب بعد ها در کتاب خنده و فراموشی دوباره پرداخت شده و خیلی هم پخته تر و موفق تر اجرا شده. اگر از طرفداران ناباکوف نیستید من پیشنهاد می کنم این کتاب رو ندید بگیرید و خنده در تاریکی رو بخونید. اما اگر مثل من استاکر ناباکوف اید کتاب رو بخونید. ببینید بارقه های اون جهان بینی خاص ناباکوف چطور تو این کتاب برق می زنه و لذت ببرید.
آوا
بهمن ۱۴۰۱
کتاب شاه، بی بی، سرباز اما کمی متفاوته با بقیه کارهای ناباکوف. از اولین رمان هاشه و نویسنده هنوز اون سبک عالی سال های بعد رو پیدا نکرده. اما طرح اصلی این کتاب بعد ها در کتاب خنده و فراموشی دوباره پرداخت شده و خیلی هم پخته تر و موفق تر اجرا شده. اگر از طرفداران ناباکوف نیستید من پیشنهاد می کنم این کتاب رو ندید بگیرید و خنده در تاریکی رو بخونید. اما اگر مثل من استاکر ناباکوف اید کتاب رو بخونید. ببینید بارقه های اون جهان بینی خاص ناباکوف چطور تو این کتاب برق می زنه و لذت ببرید.
آوا
بهمن ۱۴۰۱
September 16, 2020
3.50 stars
From this novel, we would be simply disappointed if we hoped to read a tragedy since it’s subtly been written as “a sensual and surprising black comedy.” (back cover) It is amazing to read Nabokov’s novel seemingly entitled like a detective story or a kind of soap-opera murder on television. Rather he has his own ways in manipulating the three characters, that is, Dreyer, Martha and Franz into the duo’s sin in disguise. One of the reasons is that Franz’s “insane aunt” (p. 145) and himself both fall in love with each other and their romance develops while her husband is busy working unawares. Therefore, while reading we cannot help predicting they should be caught red-handed some days soon because Martha’s fidelity to her husband is at risk; strangely, it seems to us she doesn’t care, possibly they have been dictated by fate unaware by both.
There are, I think, many interesting episodes in this 275-page novel but I found this excerpt uniquely- original regarding the plot with its fortunate, close-call solution:
... Franz was muttering: ’I don’t understand it at all. Maybe it’s some joke of my landlord’s.’ Tom was barking his head off. He shall be destroyed tomorrow. Dreyer was chuckling and advising Franz to call the police. ‘Let’s kick it in,’ he said. Martha felt she could not hold the door any longer. Suddenly there was silence, and in the silence a squeaky querulous voice uttered the magic anti-sesame: ‘Your girl is in there.’
Dreyer turned. An old man in a dressing gown, clutching a kettle, was shaking his shaggy gray head at the young imbecile who had covered his face with his hands. Tom was sniffing at the old man. Dreyer bursting out laughing and, dragging the dog by the collar, started to walk away. Franz accompanied him to the hallway, and tripped over a pail. ‘Aha, that’s what you’re up to,’ said Dreyer. He winked, nudged Franz in the solar plexus, and went out. … (p. 224)
From this novel, we would be simply disappointed if we hoped to read a tragedy since it’s subtly been written as “a sensual and surprising black comedy.” (back cover) It is amazing to read Nabokov’s novel seemingly entitled like a detective story or a kind of soap-opera murder on television. Rather he has his own ways in manipulating the three characters, that is, Dreyer, Martha and Franz into the duo’s sin in disguise. One of the reasons is that Franz’s “insane aunt” (p. 145) and himself both fall in love with each other and their romance develops while her husband is busy working unawares. Therefore, while reading we cannot help predicting they should be caught red-handed some days soon because Martha’s fidelity to her husband is at risk; strangely, it seems to us she doesn’t care, possibly they have been dictated by fate unaware by both.
There are, I think, many interesting episodes in this 275-page novel but I found this excerpt uniquely- original regarding the plot with its fortunate, close-call solution:
... Franz was muttering: ’I don’t understand it at all. Maybe it’s some joke of my landlord’s.’ Tom was barking his head off. He shall be destroyed tomorrow. Dreyer was chuckling and advising Franz to call the police. ‘Let’s kick it in,’ he said. Martha felt she could not hold the door any longer. Suddenly there was silence, and in the silence a squeaky querulous voice uttered the magic anti-sesame: ‘Your girl is in there.’
Dreyer turned. An old man in a dressing gown, clutching a kettle, was shaking his shaggy gray head at the young imbecile who had covered his face with his hands. Tom was sniffing at the old man. Dreyer bursting out laughing and, dragging the dog by the collar, started to walk away. Franz accompanied him to the hallway, and tripped over a pail. ‘Aha, that’s what you’re up to,’ said Dreyer. He winked, nudged Franz in the solar plexus, and went out. … (p. 224)
September 9, 2015
Май доста сгреших, като реших да прочета почти всичко на Набоков за една година (издадено на български). То не беше решение всъщност – просто видех ли негова книга, я грабвах веднага и лакомо. :)
Но започна да се получава едно насищане - нито стилът ми действа толкова омагьосващо като с първите книги (а той винаги си е уникален и разпознаваем — виждам изреченията му като пищни фойерверки и хитри намигвания), нито историите са ми толкова изненадващи и шашващи. Дори в „Поп, дама, вале“ ми се стор��, че като сравнително млад автор Набоков пише малко повече като по учебник – с описанията, където е редно да има такива, с вмъкването на изречения между диалозите и действията, за да стане ясна обстановката/атмосферата и т.н.
Специално в тази книга всичко ми беше крайно чуждо – тази среда, всички щения, отношения... :( Безразлично ми беше как ще свърши всичко, ясно беше, че ще има срязващ финал (все си мислех за „Терез Ракен“); едвам ги търпях и тримата - не като хора, а като някакви дървени човечета (по-скоро стъклени фигури). Не че не съм чела други книги с не-мои начини на живот и с неприятни герои, но сега бях съвсем дистанцирана, силна неприязън изпитвах. Може би съм в такъв период. Направи ми впечатление, че преди това в „Сбъднати молитви“ на любимия Капоти ми беше така чужда действителността (въпреки майсторското писане). Все пак не може да се отрече способността на Набоков да въздейства, успя да ме изкара извън кожата ми с тази празнота и стъкленост на героите. Нищо общо с онова морализаторско чувство „Ама как може?!“, а просто „Бррр...“ (отблъскване).
Така че след огромната еуфория от любимата ми тройка – „Смях в тъмното“, „Вълшебникът“ и „Лолита“ – трябваше да си направя малка или голяма почивка, а не набързо да прочета още три. Сега спирам, за да не „ изхабя“ останалите преведени книги на Набоков.
Но започна да се получава едно насищане - нито стилът ми действа толкова омагьосващо като с първите книги (а той винаги си е уникален и разпознаваем — виждам изреченията му като пищни фойерверки и хитри намигвания), нито историите са ми толкова изненадващи и шашващи. Дори в „Поп, дама, вале“ ми се стор��, че като сравнително млад автор Набоков пише малко повече като по учебник – с описанията, където е редно да има такива, с вмъкването на изречения между диалозите и действията, за да стане ясна обстановката/атмосферата и т.н.
Специално в тази книга всичко ми беше крайно чуждо – тази среда, всички щения, отношения... :( Безразлично ми беше как ще свърши всичко, ясно беше, че ще има срязващ финал (все си мислех за „Терез Ракен“); едвам ги търпях и тримата - не като хора, а като някакви дървени човечета (по-скоро стъклени фигури). Не че не съм чела други книги с не-мои начини на живот и с неприятни герои, но сега бях съвсем дистанцирана, силна неприязън изпитвах. Може би съм в такъв период. Направи ми впечатление, че преди това в „Сбъднати молитви“ на любимия Капоти ми беше така чужда действителността (въпреки майсторското писане). Все пак не може да се отрече способността на Набоков да въздейства, успя да ме изкара извън кожата ми с тази празнота и стъкленост на героите. Нищо общо с онова морализаторско чувство „Ама как може?!“, а просто „Бррр...“ (отблъскване).
Така че след огромната еуфория от любимата ми тройка – „Смях в тъмното“, „Вълшебникът“ и „Лолита“ – трябваше да си направя малка или голяма почивка, а не набързо да прочета още три. Сега спирам, за да не „ изхабя“ останалите преведени книги на Набоков.
December 28, 2018
اين رمان دومين اثر از نابوكوف هست كه در بيست و هشت سالگي وي نوشته شده و ابتدا ترجمه ي آلماني آن منتشر شده است.
داستان رمان حول محور عشقي ممنوعه مي باشد كه كمتر به مسائل اجتماعي و سياسي زمانش اشاره شده است و بيشتر گفتگوهاي دروني و رفتار و عكس العمل هاي شخصيت هااز نظر روانشناسي قابل تامل و توجه است.
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پ ن: بعد لوليتا اين دومين اثري است كه از اين نويسنده خوانده ام و من به شخصه كلا با آثار نابوكوف ارتباط خوبي ندارم 🙈
داستان رمان حول محور عشقي ممنوعه مي باشد كه كمتر به مسائل اجتماعي و سياسي زمانش اشاره شده است و بيشتر گفتگوهاي دروني و رفتار و عكس العمل هاي شخصيت هااز نظر روانشناسي قابل تامل و توجه است.
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پ ن: بعد لوليتا اين دومين اثري است كه از اين نويسنده خوانده ام و من به شخصه كلا با آثار نابوكوف ارتباط خوبي ندارم 🙈
May 11, 2023
تقریباً در بیست روزی که مریض بودم خوندمش از میون منگی مسکنها و فشار درد و ضعف. اما هر پاراگرافش پامو از زمین جدا میکرد و باعث میشد سنگینی جسمم رو فراموش کنم. به «دوستی» گفتم وقتی میخونمش با خودم میگم «آخیش بالاخره ادبیات.»
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