Friday, November 16, 2012
VN and me
One day, in the 1970s, in Switzerland, one young and famous poetess from the SU was received by Vladimir Nabokov, at his.
The damsel was in state of veneration, when talking with the great writer (whose all works were banned in his homeland, btw, nevertheless, she happened to read the works.)
VN asked her, “How do you find my Russian?”
“It’s the best,” she replied, with her voice vibrating.
“Really?” VN said, “And I believed it’s frozen strawberry.”
The conversation is a historical fact, taking place in the time, when I was oh so young, learning of the conversation later, much later, when reading one non-fiction, in the 1990s, the cursed 1990s (Confer: "Cursed Days," the book by Russian author Ivan Bunin) when personally I happened to survive, with no damage, but I keep on reckoning the time cursed, anyway, with one of reasons being that I didn’t live in Switzerland in the time when it became possible because I could not afford going there. However that may be, returning to the talk of literature, I’d like to say that remembering of the conversation, mentioned above, I realize I should title my first blog “Reading with Frozen Strawberry,” which is a superb allusion, but “Strawberry” sounds too notorious, and “Frozen Strawberry” sounds rightly intelligible not to everyone, to put it mildly, for me alone, strictly speaking. Besides, when beginning my first blog, I was eager for being as far from my homeland as possible, aloof in my thoughts, dreams and virtual life, and the title “Revue Blanche” sounded more unusual, meaningful, cosmopolitan and consonant to my new fandom, and subsequently more Wildean, which as such had and implied more things to my taste than Nabokov’s works, with the only novel Pale Fire worth the kind attention of my main personage, which last circumstance outweighed then, being above all now.
I conclude: However VN looked and sounded in his lifetime, read the novel Pale Fire, anyway.