Pale Fire, by Vladimir Nabokov
Vintage 1962
ISBN 0-679-72342-0
Opening Line:
"Pale Fire, a poem in heroic couplets, of nine hundred ninety-nine lines, divided into four cantos, was composed by John Francis Shade (born July 5, 1898, died July 21, 1959) during the last twenty days of his life, at his residence in New Wye, Appalachia, U.S.A."
Reflections:
Pale Fire is, simply, the poem described above, accompanied by a foreword, index, and extensive commentary written by the poet John Shade's peculiar neighbor and coworker, Charles Kinbote. Structurally, then, the novel is explicable, though hardly ordinary, but that structure allows Nabokov to explore not only the nature of academic commentary, but also the history of a fictional nation, the lives of John Shade and his commentator, and most especially the ties between coincidence, fate, and the people who look for them.
The poem Pale Fire is John Shade's autobiographical work, revealing boyhood trauma, deep-seated love for his wife Sybil, the suicide of their daughter, and John's experiences with an organization devoted to codifying the afterlife. An honest, conversational tone permeates the alternately amusing, passionate, and brooding work, lending it a quality not unlike that of Robert Frost, with whom Shade is compared on more than one occasion within the text (notably p. 203).
With the character of the poet now more or less clear to the reader, the commentary provides the rest of the story. However, as indicated in the foreword, Kinbote has some bizarre thinking in regard not only to the poem, but to himself. The commentary wastes no time in showing the reader that Kinbote has an agenda all his own, as he begins diverging on line one into a discussion of his own life and the fauna of his homeland, Zembla. Naturally, Nabokov uses this early opportunity, before Kinbote's story really gets underway, to mock both translators (p. 79) and commentators (p. 74, 78), as he does most famously in the opening line of Ada, or Ardor.
As the commentary continues, more and more of the history of Zembla and the downfall of its last king, Charles Xavier, are given to the reader as ostensibly relating to the one or two words of the poem that Kinbote references. In addition, details about Shade's death are peppered throughout, alongside hints of Kinbote's similarity to his beloved monarch. None of these hints, however, is very overt, and all are couched in Zemblan history, of which Kinbote makes a quite rambling account.
Of course, in the end, Kinbote is Charles, and the commentary ends up being his own autobiography, complete with the antagonist, Gradus, whose journey is feverishly retroactively paralleled as a chain of more-than-coincidence with Shade's authorship of the poem. In the end, the bullet meant for Kinbote strikes Shade instead, and one man's life story is intertwined with and overshadowed by another's.
What does Nabokov intend us to see, within this work of dual authorship, where the mistaken shot of a would-be regicide strikes the Shade instead of the King? As usual, I think, Nabokov's deep and carefully planned structure comes across to the intelligent reader (synchronicity, flying, the deaths of both Shade's daughter and Queen Yaruga, seasonal change), but that structure is merely the bed upon which is tied the nymphet. The real power of the novel is in its unfolding, not in sterile and self-interested cross-analysis like that performed by Kinbote (p. 79). Nabokov intends this work to be understood as the interplay between one man's life and another's, with all the intentional and unintentional symbolism that may create (p. 172). Who is to say that the Red Admirable is any less Kinbote's invention than Nabokov's or Shade's?
Reading oneself into literature forms a great part of enjoying it. I believe that along with his other thematic concerns, Nabokov wished to inject a bit of that hero-worship and selfish insertion into this work, so that his readers might pause to reflect on their own readings (and writings).
Verdict:
An astonishing work, not only upon reflection, but during the reading, as amusement and curiosity follow one another through one man's life and another's work. Is it Nabokov's best? I am not qualified to answer that question, although I suppose that I will ever hold Ada to my heart.
READ THIS BOOK.
ISBN 0-679-72342-0
Opening Line:
"Pale Fire, a poem in heroic couplets, of nine hundred ninety-nine lines, divided into four cantos, was composed by John Francis Shade (born July 5, 1898, died July 21, 1959) during the last twenty days of his life, at his residence in New Wye, Appalachia, U.S.A."
Reflections:
Pale Fire is, simply, the poem described above, accompanied by a foreword, index, and extensive commentary written by the poet John Shade's peculiar neighbor and coworker, Charles Kinbote. Structurally, then, the novel is explicable, though hardly ordinary, but that structure allows Nabokov to explore not only the nature of academic commentary, but also the history of a fictional nation, the lives of John Shade and his commentator, and most especially the ties between coincidence, fate, and the people who look for them.
The poem Pale Fire is John Shade's autobiographical work, revealing boyhood trauma, deep-seated love for his wife Sybil, the suicide of their daughter, and John's experiences with an organization devoted to codifying the afterlife. An honest, conversational tone permeates the alternately amusing, passionate, and brooding work, lending it a quality not unlike that of Robert Frost, with whom Shade is compared on more than one occasion within the text (notably p. 203).
With the character of the poet now more or less clear to the reader, the commentary provides the rest of the story. However, as indicated in the foreword, Kinbote has some bizarre thinking in regard not only to the poem, but to himself. The commentary wastes no time in showing the reader that Kinbote has an agenda all his own, as he begins diverging on line one into a discussion of his own life and the fauna of his homeland, Zembla. Naturally, Nabokov uses this early opportunity, before Kinbote's story really gets underway, to mock both translators (p. 79) and commentators (p. 74, 78), as he does most famously in the opening line of Ada, or Ardor.
As the commentary continues, more and more of the history of Zembla and the downfall of its last king, Charles Xavier, are given to the reader as ostensibly relating to the one or two words of the poem that Kinbote references. In addition, details about Shade's death are peppered throughout, alongside hints of Kinbote's similarity to his beloved monarch. None of these hints, however, is very overt, and all are couched in Zemblan history, of which Kinbote makes a quite rambling account.
Of course, in the end, Kinbote is Charles, and the commentary ends up being his own autobiography, complete with the antagonist, Gradus, whose journey is feverishly retroactively paralleled as a chain of more-than-coincidence with Shade's authorship of the poem. In the end, the bullet meant for Kinbote strikes Shade instead, and one man's life story is intertwined with and overshadowed by another's.
What does Nabokov intend us to see, within this work of dual authorship, where the mistaken shot of a would-be regicide strikes the Shade instead of the King? As usual, I think, Nabokov's deep and carefully planned structure comes across to the intelligent reader (synchronicity, flying, the deaths of both Shade's daughter and Queen Yaruga, seasonal change), but that structure is merely the bed upon which is tied the nymphet. The real power of the novel is in its unfolding, not in sterile and self-interested cross-analysis like that performed by Kinbote (p. 79). Nabokov intends this work to be understood as the interplay between one man's life and another's, with all the intentional and unintentional symbolism that may create (p. 172). Who is to say that the Red Admirable is any less Kinbote's invention than Nabokov's or Shade's?
Reading oneself into literature forms a great part of enjoying it. I believe that along with his other thematic concerns, Nabokov wished to inject a bit of that hero-worship and selfish insertion into this work, so that his readers might pause to reflect on their own readings (and writings).
Verdict:
An astonishing work, not only upon reflection, but during the reading, as amusement and curiosity follow one another through one man's life and another's work. Is it Nabokov's best? I am not qualified to answer that question, although I suppose that I will ever hold Ada to my heart.
READ THIS BOOK.