In Susan Hubbard’s terrific, wry novel, _The Society of S_, the following passage appears (p. 103):

He warned me that it would be a long story, one that took time to tell. He asked me to be patient, not to interrupt with questions. "I want you to understand how things ensued, how one thing caused another," he said. "As Nabokov wrote in his memoir, 'Let me look at my demon objectively.'"

[Then, later in the same page:]

"An odd coincidence," he said. "Yes, we'd met when we were children. My aunt lived in Georgia. I met your mother one summer afternoon on Tybee Island, and we played in the sand together. I was six. She was ten. I was a child, and she was a child."
I recognized the line from "Annabel Lee."

Best,

Juan

 

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