' "A certain man," said Rex, as he turned round the corner with Margot, "once lost a diamond cuff-link in the wide blue sea, and twenty years later, on the exact day, a Friday apparently, he was eating a large fish - but there was no diamond inside. That's what I like about coincidence" ' (Nabokov, 135).
“What should be established, I think, is an artistic harmonious balance between the reader’s mind and the author’s mind. We ought to remain a little aloof and take pleasure in this aloofness while at the same time we keenly enjoy—passionately enjoy, enjoy with tears and shivers—the inner weave of a given masterpiece” (Nabokov, 3).This morning, while struggling with the structure of this post, I read Nabokov’s essay ‘Good Readers and Good Writers’ in an attempt to give my ideas some shape. While the former quote is from the novel, the latter quote is from this essay, which provides a wonderful little introduction to some of Nabokov’s lectures on literature. I will read those lectures eventually, but for now I will refer to them only to supplement my discussions on the novels, as my intents and purposes primarily concern Nabokov the writer.
With regards to the second quote, I think that it contains an interesting proposition. To me, being 'in harmony with the author's mind' means being aware of the nature of the work as an artistic construct (as the author would) and being sensitive to the means by which the author structures his work - such as style, literary devices, etc. To assume this analytical mindset takes a degree of 'aloofness,' or removal from the story. In casual reading, so much focus is placed on becoming completely engrossed in a novel – becoming utterly lost in the plot and identifying with characters (something Nabokov hates) – that the ‘aloofness’ often escapes us until the end, when the final page is turned and we proclaim, satiated, “That was a GOOD BOOK.” Even then, we’re not talking about an exercise in criticism.
In fairness, I think that different books (and I'm talking about recreational reading) demand different degrees of the aloofness/enjoyment balance, which is usually a choice made by both the author and the reader. For example, I spent the weekend charging through a healthy dose of sensationalist fiction – Stieg Larsson’s “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.” Was I critically distancing myself as I attempted to achieve a harmonious balance between the author’s mind and mine? Hell no. I will be the first to admit that I was breathlessly riding the wave of storytelling, which I believe to be, at times, a valid pleasure unto itself. Of course, it depends on the book as well.
The scholar, the ‘good reader,’ has cultivated aloofness, allowing him to extract and appreciate the unique patterns discovered by his practiced awareness. This is one of the things I hope to learn as I study literature – more than just appreciating the story, I must learn to critically appreciate the creation of the story. It’s a challenge to maintain that sort of awareness (hence the dose of sensationalist fiction in between trips into the Nabokovian universe. ‘Twas a necessary holiday.)
However, if the reader's degree of ‘aloofness,’ which I equate with achieving a mental balance with the author, is usually regarded as choices of both parties, it would seem that Nabokov leaves you no choice. He asserts his desire for a harmonious balance between your mind and his, and challenges you to achieve it. In ‘Laughter,’ he accomplishes this by using the device of coincidence.
"It amused him immensely to see life made to look silly, as it slid helplessly into caricature … He loved to fool people, and the less trouble the process entailed, the more the joke pleased him. And at the same time this dangerous man was, with pencil in hand, a very fine artist indeed" (Nabokov, 143).In this passage the author describes Rex, but I think the author is also describing himself.
Strategically placed coincidence is one of the many things that characterize literature as fiction. Nabokov uses coincidence like a mother uses a sudden change in tone of voice. Or like a slightly sadistic policeman uses a taser. Or like a mother suddenly uses a taser (!) What I think Nabokov is doing is issuing an implicit challenge to the reader. By injecting his plotline with coincidence, Nabokov asserts, “This is art. Life does not happen like this. I created this; consider it. Appreciate it.” And, under his breath, “Keep on your toes, dear reader; I’m watching you.”
In Nabokov’s true words, rather than my amused speculations, this translates into: “Literature is invention. Fiction is fiction … Every great writer is a great deceiver …" (Nabokov, 4). The aloof reader realizes this, and maintains a degree of distance from the text that allows him to appreciate it as a work of art, a work of deception, and a world of creation that is ready to be studied in detail in order to be best understood.
I believe that the most painfully ironic coincidence in the novel occurs when Albert Albinus loses his eyesight. Prior to the car accident that renders him literally blind, there are so many things to which he is completely oblivious, such as Margot’s falsified affections in order to obtain his fortune, Rex’s falsified collaborations in order to obtain Margot, and most importantly, the affair that Margot and Rex are carrying on behind his back. Then Albinus loses his eyesight.
Albinus is also an art critic. His greatest loss is that of his ability to regard his beloved works of art.
But the kicker is this: thought it is a coincidence that Albinus, scholar and lover of art, has lost his sight, the discomfiting irony is that not much about his situation has really changed. It is mentioned on numerous occasions that Albinus was never a particularly good art critic, even lacking the ability to differentiate original pieces from fakes. With regards to Margot and Rex, it takes him the entire novel (and a disproportionate amount of money) to discover their true natures. Until that point, Margot and Rex continue their affair right before his sightless eyes.
Other coincidences? The manner in which Albinus discovers Margot’s infidelity (through an old writer acquaintance whose novels Albinus loves to laud during parties, whom Albinus eventually runs into while on holiday and finds himself loath to be in the company of, so he eventually breaks away from, only to discover that this misanthropic writer is the only person who can tell him the truth about Margot and Rex) …
That’s like … coincidence tennis. Leaves your head spinning.
Ultimately, I think that the novel’s coincidences help to create the artistic balance between the author and reader’s mind by self-consciously drawing attention to the novel’s status as fiction. The recognition that "This couldn't possibly happen!" reminds the reader that this is a piece of art that is to be appreciated for its construction as well as the pleasure it brings.
So, as a potential writer, I suppose the question I have to ask myself is this: If I am to write fiction, how much do I want to take this into account? Nabokov provides some food for thought:
“The art of writing is a very futile business if it does not imply first of all the art of seeing the world as the potentiality of fiction” (Nabokov, 1).Interestingly, this is something that I have considered before – finding the ‘poetry’ of daily life in the recognition of unique events. I think that this is a similar idea to seeing the world as the ‘potentiality of fiction.’ You have to be aware of what the world can do, an imaginative sort of vision that goes beyond the scope of what the world actually does. My solution? Keep a journal – though, as the first page of ‘Sebastian Knight’ warns against, not a simple ‘documentation of events,’ for that is a ‘poor method of self-preservation.’ (I don’t have the book with me at the moment, but those words stuck.) Secondly:
“There are three points of view from which a writer can be considered: he may be considered as a storyteller, as a teacher, and as an enchanter. A major writer combines these three—storyteller, teacher, enchanter—but it is the enchanter in him that predominates and makes him a major writer” (Nabokov, 4).I don’t yet know which of these will predominate in me. I want my potential works to be worlds of artistic merit as well as worlds of enjoyment. I want the reader to be able to choose the degree to which they participate in my game – but I definitely aspire to create a moderately complex game with a dash of the Nabokovian challenge to ‘play hard.’
I had never thought about the author’s role in determining the degree to which the reader submerged himself in the ‘game’ of the novel before; I had considered it more of an arbitrary thing. So there – I learned something.
Phew. In all honesty, this post was incredibly difficult to write, and took me the better part of four hours to compose. Next up is ‘Sebastian Knight,’ which I have tentatively begun and which I have already recognized won’t be particularly straightforward to write about either. I suppose that none of the novels will. However, it is rewarding, as always, to read literature, and is rewarding in a newer way to force myself to structure my ideas like this. In addition to potentially teaching me how to write, this process is also teaching me how to read. Ultimately, this quote from Nabokov makes the entire effort worth it:
“Up a trackless slope climbs the master artist, and at the top, on a windy ridge, whom do you think he meets? The panting and happy reader, and there they spontaneously embrace and are linked forever if the book lasts forever” (Nabokov, 2).Given that I have set out to conquer as much of his canon as possible, I don’t think that two novels qualify me as having reached the top of the slope just yet. However, I’m glad that Nabokov has more or less confirmed what I dare to hope will meet me when I eventually get there.
Works Cited
Nabokov, Vladimir. "Good Readers and Good Writers." Lectures on Literature. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1980.
Nabokov, Vladimir. Laughter in the Dark. New York: Vintage, 1989
No comments:
Post a Comment