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mak99's review
challenging
reflective
sad
slow-paced
3.5
"The cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness."
At this point, I would read Nabokov's grocery lists if they were somehow published (which, incidentally, is what reading parts of Speak, Memory felt like---if I never again have to read passage upon passage about a man's obsession with butterflies, I will consider myself lucky).
I am so blinded by Nabokov's brilliance that his pretentiousness and matter-of-factness when describing his upper-class existence---qualities I would have found grating in other writers---only adds to my complete reverence of him. Self-centeredness is only condoned when incredibly funny and annoyingly well-written. Still, despite the comedy, I was most enchanted by the final chapter; the tenderness with which Nabokov's son, Dmitri, is described, and the love father has for son, is deeply moving.
Yet, Nabokov largely shies away from sentimentality or the intimacies of his emotions when writing about his life. The cruelly violent deaths of his father and brother are chronicled, but almost in a detached fashion, devoid of reflection or grief. While an entire chapter is dedicated to a love affair in his adolescence, the meeting and falling in love with his wife, Véra, is curiously absent. Memoirs are tricky: the writer is willingly offering themself up for dissection; the reader might feel entitled to a life seemingly made public. But who am I to demand that Nabokov reveal the depth of his soul to his readers? Isn't his supreme wit and winning personality enough?
I am so blinded by Nabokov's brilliance that his pretentiousness and matter-of-factness when describing his upper-class existence---qualities I would have found grating in other writers---only adds to my complete reverence of him. Self-centeredness is only condoned when incredibly funny and annoyingly well-written. Still, despite the comedy, I was most enchanted by the final chapter; the tenderness with which Nabokov's son, Dmitri, is described, and the love father has for son, is deeply moving.
Yet, Nabokov largely shies away from sentimentality or the intimacies of his emotions when writing about his life. The cruelly violent deaths of his father and brother are chronicled, but almost in a detached fashion, devoid of reflection or grief. While an entire chapter is dedicated to a love affair in his adolescence, the meeting and falling in love with his wife, Véra, is curiously absent. Memoirs are tricky: the writer is willingly offering themself up for dissection; the reader might feel entitled to a life seemingly made public. But who am I to demand that Nabokov reveal the depth of his soul to his readers? Isn't his supreme wit and winning personality enough?
crayborck's review
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
relaxing
5.0
dylanberman's review
challenging
emotional
funny
hopeful
reflective
relaxing
sad
slow-paced
4.5
Most beautiful writing ever
rosepoints's review against another edition
4.0
there is something so elegantly haunting in nabokov's prose, despite english not being his native language, and it makes me eager to read more of his work.
i originally started this book in order to buddy-read with my friend, who is currently taking a course on russian literature. this was assigned at the start of the syllabus, presumably to better understand the author, and i almost skipped over it in favor of starting his novels sooner. however, i really do think that this lends an insight into nabokov's thinking process and how his nostalgia and his life informs his writing. although this is billed as an autobiography, i almost feel like this is a series of dream-like musings and nostalgia veiled in rose-tinted glasses. that's normally a turn-off for me when it comes to memoirs but i think nabokov's prose makes up for it.
excited to read more of his works!
i originally started this book in order to buddy-read with my friend, who is currently taking a course on russian literature. this was assigned at the start of the syllabus, presumably to better understand the author, and i almost skipped over it in favor of starting his novels sooner. however, i really do think that this lends an insight into nabokov's thinking process and how his nostalgia and his life informs his writing. although this is billed as an autobiography, i almost feel like this is a series of dream-like musings and nostalgia veiled in rose-tinted glasses. that's normally a turn-off for me when it comes to memoirs but i think nabokov's prose makes up for it.
excited to read more of his works!
casparb's review against another edition
A sweet piece very much riding with his 4th pick for best-of-20th-century-lit, what he (homophically) names Proust's 'fairytale'. I'm not saying that only for the reasons of it's-an-autobiography-thus-Marcel but also his style, sweet as ever in this period has so many more Proustian overtones than usual though perhaps I'm feeling more sensitive to that lately. There's an acceleration in this such that the 'adult' years are really squished into the last fifth or so & we get reams of childhood which isn't exactly unwelcome but I want more of Véra
steller0707's review against another edition
challenging
informative
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
4.0
multilingual_s's review
emotional
funny
reflective
slow-paced
4.5
Some of the prose felt a bit too floral and self-aggrandizing but in general I like Nabokov and it felt nice to recognize many of my favorite places through his eyes and his biography.