Nabokov by Nabokov
FROM the large corpus of Vladimir Nabokov's early work the novel Despair (first published in Russian and English thirty years ago) has now been rescued and revamped, and is here presented anew. The bones of the plot are these: the hero, Hermann, happens to meet a stranger, Felix, who exactly resembles him; he gulls Felix into exchanging clothes on a plausible -pretext and then murders him so that the 'widow' can collect the insurance money. Like Dostoievsky's Crime and Punishment, this is a thriller. Must it also be taken seriously as a work of literature? Parts of it earn this title for the graphic potency of the writing, which always seems at its best when the two doubles are in contact : at their first meeting in the outskirts of Prague; at a rendezvous in the town of Tamitz and, above all, at the murder scene itself. this last being a minor masterpiece.
Unfortunately, the novel is marred by ill- judged attempts to invest it with literary por- tentousness. In particular, Hermann, as. narrator, is caused to insert lengthy comments all over the place on his own technique of narration. Should a chapter be started in this or that way? How does. the story compare with the work of such bungling predecessors in the genre as Dostoievsky, etc.? (There are echoes in the plot of The Double as well as of Crime and Punish- ment.) Then these digressions themselves form the subject of further digressions, in the course of which one very well-chosen phrase occurs : 'These conversations with readers are quite silly.'
Somehow the apostrophisings' of the 'gentle reader' contrive to be aggressive and arch at the same time, which does at least make for an original mixture. Nor do they all fall entirely flat; for instance, one, on the existence of God, is very funny indeed. Still, it is distracting to have one's attention taken up by Nabokov's in- sistence, in effect, on providing a running review of his own book as he goes along. No sooner does he induce a willing suspension of disbelief than he perversely reinstates the disbelief. Ad- mittedly it is part of the function of Hermann's discursive droolings - to characterise him as un- hinged, but one would have been prepared to concede that point on less evidence than is pro- vided here. • • Can it be that Nabokov sees his relationship to his readers as that:alai:1kt to masochist? There are features in his other works and in the preface to the present volume (with its singu- larly graceless asperity) which bear out such a theory. Another feature of the book is the ever- present whiff of translationese which makes it sound like the work of a rather tougher-minded Constance Garnett. As with Garnett, off-beat English is redeemed in places by felicitous dis- tortions such as no Englishman could . have dreamed up unaided by a Russian original. Despair has the makings of a very fine short story indeed and contains some excellent passages. It was well worth republishing, but could have done with some ruthless pruning.
RONALD HINGLEY
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