Vladimir Nabokov

Annotations by Alexey Sklyarenko

Description

Please read Alexey Sklyarenko's annotations on Pale FireAda and other Nabokov works here.

By Alexey Sklyarenko, 7 September, 2024

In his commentary to Shade's poem Kinbote (in VN’s novel Pale Fire, 1962, Shade’s mad commentator who imagines that he is Charles the Beloved, the last self-exiled king of Zembla) mentions Baron Bland, the Keeper of the Treasure who jumped or fell from the North Tower:

 

By Alexey Sklyarenko, 5 September, 2024

At the beginning of VN's novel Lolita (1955) Humbert Humbert (the narrator and main character) calls himself "this tangle of thorns:"

 

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.

She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

By Alexey Sklyarenko, 4 September, 2024

Describing his rented house, Kinbote (in VN’s novel Pale Fire, 1962, Shade’s mad commentator who imagines that he is Charles the Beloved, the last self-exiled king of Zembla) mentions his landlord’s four daughters (Alphina, Betty, Candida and Dee):

 

By Alexey Sklyarenko, 4 September, 2024

The characters in VN's novel Lolita (1955) include Clare Quilty, the playwright and pornographer whom Humbert Humbert (the narrator and main character) tracks down and murders for abducting Lolita. As has been pointed out before, Quilty is a small fishing village in County Clare, Ireland. The local Catholic church, belonging to Kilmurry Ibrickane parish, has a round tower which is visible from the surrounding countryside. It was built in remembrance of the Leon XIII (shipwrecked on Sept.

By Alexey Sklyarenko, 3 September, 2024

In VN's novel Lolita (1955) Humbert Humbert is afraid that his wife Charlotte (Lolita's mother) will bundle off Lolita to St. Algebra:

 

There was a woodlake (Hourglass Lake - not as I had thought it was spelled) a few miles from Ramsdale, and there was one week of great heat at the end of July when we drove there daily. I am now obliged to describe in some tedious detail our last swim there together, one tropical Tuesday morning.