|
|
Just finished up Nabokov's 'Invitation to a Beheading', which I wish I hadn't looked at the back-cover text, midway through, because it literally spells out the entire set of events, from opening to closing sentences, with all the reveals revealed (that is, utterly spoiled) and an inane comparison to Kafka that seems to simultaneously insult both authors and the book.
More than the obvious statements on authors, readers, and literary worlds, the bit about set-pieces and background paintings really worked sweetly for me. Hard to get deliberately stagey qualities, that ethereal plasticity, to work, to carry forward and retain some concern or interest, but this manages quite well.
The author's intro insists it was hardly rewritten and quite literal and precise, but some of the puns had to have shifted, to avoid weird transliteration, yes? Ah, Nabokov lies. |
|
|