gafferz 's review for:

Speak, Memory by Vladimir Nabokov

2.0

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I skimmed several parts (most notably his outlining of his ancestry, and his lengthy meditations on butterfly catching and chess) but enjoyed others (mainly the final chapters about his exile from Russia, time at Cambridge, and his son). Obviously Nabokov is a brilliant writer, but my attention span only goes so far.

Ultimately, I find it hard to read the autobiography of someone who claims to hate both sleeping (?!) and cafés and restaurants (??) without some feeling of ironic detachment