A review by chrysemys
Pnin by Vladimir Nabokov

4.0

Through most of the text, the narrator seems relatively omniscient and impartial, although this is Nabokov writing here, so he's not to be trusted--even without the "unreliable narrator" tip-off from the blurb. The narrator is likely a fictionalized form of Nabokov himself, as a lepidopterist called Vladimir Vladimirovich is mentioned casually in conversation by a couple of characters. (Quit winking at us, Vlad, it's getting creepy.) Of course, that might just be a red herring. The identity of the narrator doesn't actually matter. In the end, the reader is left wondering why the narrator is so obsessed with Pnin. In addition, one comes to realize that Pnin's disdain for the narrator does not really fit the picture the narrator has painted of the venerable professor so the narrator must be a)lying or glossing over some important information and/or b) truly despicable.

I think most people feel like Pnin much more often than we would like to admit. Clueless, bumbling, always a little behind the curve. Maybe we are able to hold it together and don't appear as hapless to others as Pnin. I was rooting for him, but didn't have much hope for this Charlie Brown of the expat Russian literati.