Despite its lascivious reputation, the pleasures of Lolita are as much intellectual as erogenous. It is a love story with the power to raise both chuckles and eyebrows. Humbert Humbert is a European intellectual adrift in America, haunted by memories of a lost adolescent love. When he meets his ideal nymphet in the shape of 12-year-old Dolores Haze, he constructs an elaborate plot to seduce her, but first he must get rid of her mother. In spite of his diabolical wit, reality proves to be more slippery than Humbert's feverish fantasies and Lolita refuses to conform to his image of the perfect lover. Playfully perverse in form as well as content, riddled with puns and literary allusions, Nabokov's 1955 novel is a hymn to the Russian-born author's delight in his adopted language. Indeed, readers who want to probe all of its allusive nooks and crannies will need to consult the annotated edition. Lolita is undoubtedly, brazenly erotic, but the eroticism springs less from the "frail honey-hued shoulders ... the silky supple bare back" of little Lo than it does from the wantonly gorgeous prose that Humbert uses to recount his forbidden passion: "She was musical and apple-sweet ... Lola the bobby-soxer, devouring her immemorial fruit, singing through its juice ... and every movement she made, every shuffle and ripple, helped me to conceal and to improve the secret system of tactile correspondence between beast and beauty--between my gagged, bursting beast and the beauty of her dimpled body in its innocent cotton frock. " Much has been made of Lolita as metaphor, perhaps because the love affair at its heart is so troubling. Humbert represents the formal, educated Old World of Europe, while Lolita is America: ripening, beautiful, but not too bright and a little vulgar. Nabokov delights in exploring the intercourse between these cultures and the passages where Humbert describes the suburbs and strip malls and motels of post-war America are filled with both attraction and repulsion: "Those restaurants where the holy spirit of Huncan Dines had descended upon the cute paper napkins and cottage-cheese-crested salads." Yet however tempting the novel's symbolism may be, its chief delight--and power--lies in the character of Humbert Humbert. He, at least as he tells it, is no seedy skulker, no twisted destroyer of innocence. Instead, Nabokov's celebrated mouthpiece is erudite and witty, even at his most depraved. Humbert can't help it--linguistic jouissance is as important to him as the satisfaction of his arrested libido. --Simon Leake

Selfishness and stupidity cause more pain than evil can, 18 Oct 2008
In the field of erotic literature, this novel has probably touched the awareness of the public more than any other, to such an extent that the once innocuous name of Lolita has become another name for youthful feminine charm and sexuality, to put it mildly.

Those are the historical facts, but what of the novel's merits? What is most definitely is not is pornographic: it doesn't contain a word of even mildly bad language, nor is it a trashy series of sex scenes featuring a girl of that name. In fact - surprise, surprise if you've never read it - Lolita doesn't even contain a girl called Lolita.

Writing in the first person, Nabakov does not directly tell the story of his famous heroine, but that of Humbert Humbert, a man obsessed with the memory of his dead childhood girlfriend, Annabel, to such an extent that his life is dominated by her loss. As his teens pass, and then his twenties, he fails to mature beyond his loss. When he meets a girl of twelve, Dolores Haze, who resembles his lost love, he attempts to posses her, body and soul, and in his obsessed mind he re-names her "Lolita." The final result is that both he and Dolores are destroyed, along with several other characters.

Is it a sad story of an unfortunately obsessed man, who should perhaps be pitied as much as condemned? No, for there is more to it than that. Is it a simple story? No, for Nabakov is not a simple writer, telling a plain story of black versus white. If he were, then Dolores would be a naïve and innocent girl, and Humbert an absolute villain.

But Nabokov is not a limited moraliser, wagging a solemn preacher's finger at a wrong-doer seeking his evil way in a world of innocence. Instead he examines the complexities of both love and lust, for Humbert finds that his hidden, furtive desire has met its mate, as he discovers that Dolores has an open, natural tendency to depravity to match his. Moreover, most of the characters that the two are in contact with are flawed, and some are so self-deceiving and tacky that the reader may be drawn into preferring Humbert's admitted lechery, and the reader, not allowed to deal easily with absolutes in a simple situation of right and wrong, is made to journey in an intriguing world of comparisons.

Whereas Dolores's nature is a mixture of easily given love and defensive cynicism - she rapidly falls in love with the handsome, exotic Frenchman - Humbert is cowardly, conceited and stupid, with a talent for bungling everything he attempts, from emotional relationships to violent crime, a failing that he does not notice.

Failing also to see that Dolores is attempting to seduce him, he seeks to trick here into a physical intimacy that she would have awarded him willingly. As his stupidity becomes more apparent, so does his indifference to the well being of others, as he accepts marries a woman he detests to gain control of Dolores, and later contemplates murdering her.
But all his desperate, bungling manoeuvres fail, until to his surprise - Dolores casually offers herself to him, after revealing that she has already had a lover.

Technically this is the climax of the novel, and here Nabokov ends the first of the two books into which it is divided. Some critics say that the latter half is too long, and I agree with them, remarking however that it may merely seem to long, due to being the record of a highly unpleasant relationship.

At about this time, the death of her mother gives Humbert total control of Dolores. He has achieved his great ambition, but he proves utterly incapable of living with his success. Dolores, sullen at the wandering life that they adopt, but entirely dependent on Humbert, strives not to regain her freedom, but for the two to lead some kind of stable life. But Humbert, living in a world of his own, composed of ecstasy and fear - he has gained Dolores, but is terrified of discovery - fails to listen to her, or realise that the actuality that he has gained is living Dolores, not imaginary Lolita.

Trapped in his conceited self-image - he is a pedantic scholar, who has produced no work of his own, but imagines himself a sophisticated artist - he fails to communicate with Dolores, or lower himself from his pretensions to her simpler, healthier attitude to life - "speak English!" as she says at one point - and he destroys what remains of her love for him.

As Dolores grows older she is able to gain more control over her affairs, and she tortures him as he has tortured her, and eventually escapes him. After several years of agonised search Humbert finds her again. Dolores, prematurely aged by hardship, is no longer the cute nymphet that he lusted for, but Humbert still loves her. He has finally achieved a maturity of sorts. He gives her a needed gift of cash, and the two part forever. Later both are destroyed by exterior forces.

However, Nabokov is not such a sentimentalist as to make Humbert's redemption complete, and it is by a further lunatic act that he causes his own end.

Graham Worthington, author, Wake of the Raven

Not for me, sorry., 04 Sep 2008
I see that I am in a minority of one (not the first time) but "Lolita" was a struggle for me. The obvious reason not to like this book is its storyline but I think that the paedophilia aspect is tastefully done. No, my problem lies with the constant references to other classic artists, writers and philosophers which meant nothing to me. Very little happens but what does is described to ridiculous lengths. There are constant interruptions to the writing with French that I couldn't understand. I needed an Oxford English dictionary as a constant companion and felt that Nabokov really was just showing off with English not being his first language. Maybe I am not educated or intelligent enough to appreciate this book but it did very little for me. Style maybe, substance no way.

Masterpiece, 11 Jul 2008
I have read this book a number of times, and can quite happily pick it up and read a single page purely for the pure majesty of the language.

Martin Amis, son of Kingsley Amis and a stylist like Nabokov, has a true love of this book and desribed it, inter alia, as "pure sensual pleasure". A feat of genius, made more staggering by the fact that it was written in Nabokov's second language.

I challenge anyone with a love of the English language and a heart to read this book and ever forget it.

My favourite book of ALL time, 19 May 2008
This is by far my most favourite book in the world ever! Words cannot describe how much I adore this book. It is true the subject matter is uncomfortable to think about especially today. Considering that English is not Nabokov's first language he writes it so beautifully that almost every page has a line which really sounds lyrical, rythmic and just plainly beautiful.
The book pulls your moral thoughts all over the place. The question; who takes advantage of who? is one which I always come back to, and like to ask the people who read it.
I have read this book about four times which I almost never do and I recommend it to everyone I read. It is, I suppose, an example of how something can be beautiful and wrong at the same time. It is also ultimately a book about love. Unrequited love, forbidden love, consuming love, manipulative love. There are so many aspects to love explored in this book.

Superlative, 30 Apr 2008
Where to begin? One of the most moving novels in the English language - rich, lyrical, intelligent, and eloquent beyond belief. Not for fans of Raymond Carver.

Selfishness and stupidity cause more pain than evil can, 18 Oct 2008
In the field of erotic literature, this novel has probably touched the awareness of the public more than any other, to such an extent that the once innocuous name of Lolita has become another name for youthful feminine charm and sexuality, to put it mildly.

Those are the historical facts, but what of the novel's merits? What is most definitely is not is pornographic: it doesn't contain a word of even mildly bad language, nor is it a trashy series of sex scenes featuring a girl of that name. In fact - surprise, surprise if you've never read it - Lolita doesn't even contain a girl called Lolita.

Writing in the first person, Nabakov does not directly tell the story of his famous heroine, but that of Humbert Humbert, a man obsessed with the memory of his dead childhood girlfriend, Annabel, to such an extent that his life is dominated by her loss. As his teens pass, and then his twenties, he fails to mature beyond his loss. When he meets a girl of twelve, Dolores Haze, who resembles his lost love, he attempts to posses her, body and soul, and in his obsessed mind he re-names her "Lolita." The final result is that both he and Dolores are destroyed, along with several other characters.

Is it a sad story of an unfortunately obsessed man, who should perhaps be pitied as much as condemned? No, for there is more to it than that. Is it a simple story? No, for Nabakov is not a simple writer, telling a plain story of black versus white. If he were, then Dolores would be a naïve and innocent girl, and Humbert an absolute villain.

But Nabokov is not a limited moraliser, wagging a solemn preacher's finger at a wrong-doer seeking his evil way in a world of innocence. Instead he examines the complexities of both love and lust, for Humbert finds that his hidden, furtive desire has met its mate, as he discovers that Dolores has an open, natural tendency to depravity to match his. Moreover, most of the characters that the two are in contact with are flawed, and some are so self-deceiving and tacky that the reader may be drawn into preferring Humbert's admitted lechery, and the reader, not allowed to deal easily with absolutes in a simple situation of right and wrong, is made to journey in an intriguing world of comparisons.

Whereas Dolores's nature is a mixture of easily given love and defensive cynicism - she rapidly falls in love with the handsome, exotic Frenchman - Humbert is cowardly, conceited and stupid, with a talent for bungling everything he attempts, from emotional relationships to violent crime, a failing that he does not notice.

Failing also to see that Dolores is attempting to seduce him, he seeks to trick here into a physical intimacy that she would have awarded him willingly. As his stupidity becomes more apparent, so does his indifference to the well being of others, as he accepts marries a woman he detests to gain control of Dolores, and later contemplates murdering her.
But all his desperate, bungling manoeuvres fail, until to his surprise - Dolores casually offers herself to him, after revealing that she has already had a lover.

Technically this is the climax of the novel, and here Nabokov ends the first of the two books into which it is divided. Some critics say that the latter half is too long, and I agree with them, remarking however that it may merely seem to long, due to being the record of a highly unpleasant relationship.

At about this time, the death of her mother gives Humbert total control of Dolores. He has achieved his great ambition, but he proves utterly incapable of living with his success. Dolores, sullen at the wandering life that they adopt, but entirely dependent on Humbert, strives not to regain her freedom, but for the two to lead some kind of stable life. But Humbert, living in a world of his own, composed of ecstasy and fear - he has gained Dolores, but is terrified of discovery - fails to listen to her, or realise that the actuality that he has gained is living Dolores, not imaginary Lolita.

Trapped in his conceited self-image - he is a pedantic scholar, who has produced no work of his own, but imagines himself a sophisticated artist - he fails to communicate with Dolores, or lower himself from his pretensions to her simpler, healthier attitude to life - "speak English!" as she says at one point - and he destroys what remains of her love for him.

As Dolores grows older she is able to gain more control over her affairs, and she tortures him as he has tortured her, and eventually escapes him. After several years of agonised search Humbert finds her again. Dolores, prematurely aged by hardship, is no longer the cute nymphet that he lusted for, but Humbert still loves her. He has finally achieved a maturity of sorts. He gives her a needed gift of cash, and the two part forever. Later both are destroyed by exterior forces.

However, Nabokov is not such a sentimentalist as to make Humbert's redemption complete, and it is by a further lunatic act that he causes his own end.

Graham Worthington, author, Wake of the Raven

Not for me, sorry., 04 Sep 2008
I see that I am in a minority of one (not the first time) but "Lolita" was a struggle for me. The obvious reason not to like this book is its storyline but I think that the paedophilia aspect is tastefully done. No, my problem lies with the constant references to other classic artists, writers and philosophers which meant nothing to me. Very little happens but what does is described to ridiculous lengths. There are constant interruptions to the writing with French that I couldn't understand. I needed an Oxford English dictionary as a constant companion and felt that Nabokov really was just showing off with English not being his first language. Maybe I am not educated or intelligent enough to appreciate this book but it did very little for me. Style maybe, substance no way.

Masterpiece, 11 Jul 2008
I have read this book a number of times, and can quite happily pick it up and read a single page purely for the pure majesty of the language.

Martin Amis, son of Kingsley Amis and a stylist like Nabokov, has a true love of this book and desribed it, inter alia, as "pure sensual pleasure". A feat of genius, made more staggering by the fact that it was written in Nabokov's second language.

I challenge anyone with a love of the English language and a heart to read this book and ever forget it.

My favourite book of ALL time, 19 May 2008
This is by far my most favourite book in the world ever! Words cannot describe how much I adore this book. It is true the subject matter is uncomfortable to think about especially today. Considering that English is not Nabokov's first language he writes it so beautifully that almost every page has a line which really sounds lyrical, rythmic and just plainly beautiful.
The book pulls your moral thoughts all over the place. The question; who takes advantage of who? is one which I always come back to, and like to ask the people who read it.
I have read this book about four times which I almost never do and I recommend it to everyone I read. It is, I suppose, an example of how something can be beautiful and wrong at the same time. It is also ultimately a book about love. Unrequited love, forbidden love, consuming love, manipulative love. There are so many aspects to love explored in this book.

Superlative, 30 Apr 2008
Where to begin? One of the most moving novels in the English language - rich, lyrical, intelligent, and eloquent beyond belief. Not for fans of Raymond Carver.

One man's madness, 15 May 2008
Pale Fire explores the wayward mind of Charles Kinbote, a university teacher brimming with outrageous delusions. Firstly, he believes himself to be the exiled King of Zembla (Zembla being a "distant northern land" in the vain of Hyperborea or, say, Avalon). Secondly, Kinbote is obsessed with an old poet named John Shade, who just happens to live across the way on campus, and it's with Shade's latest and last poem that the novel begins, a poem which Kinote utterly misinteprets as being about his life in the kingdom of Zembla and his daring escape to America from a plot to assassinate him. The result of all this delusion is a humorous, puzzling, and brilliantly imaginative account of one man's insanity, a madness that turns out to be strangely endearing, and which during its exposure invites the reader to decipher the truth of what really happened. Arguably Nabokov's finest novel, it's a perfect mix of fantasy and reality.

Pale Fire, 22 Oct 2007
At its simplest, Pale Fire is an examination of the 999-line poem in four cantos, 'Pale Fire' by respected Zemblan scholar Charles Kinbote, a friend of the recently deceased poet, John Shade. The novel becomes less simple when we realise that John Shade is a fictional poet, that Zembla may or may not exist, and that our friend Charles Kinbote is either the King of Zembla or insane, or perhaps both.

The novel opens, appropriately, with an introduction to the text about to be studied. Kinbote goes to great lengths to assure us that his land of Zembla and his 'great secret' are a major theme of the poem. He also repeatedly affirms his friendship with Shade, though the remainder of the text allows a severe amount of doubt as to the strength of their relationship.

John Shade, poet par excellence, is presented as an earthy, ugly man. Kinbote tries to exalt him to a higher plan at times, though textually we only ever see Shade for what he is - a poet, a great poet perhaps, but a poet. He isn't a God of letters or the Saviour of a nation, he is a man. But Kinbote has this to say of Shade's creative process: 'I am witnessing a unique physiological phenomenon: John Shade perceiving and transforming the world, taking it in and taking it apart, re-combing its element in the very process of storing them up so as to produce at some unspecified date an organic miracle, a fusion of image and music, a line of verse.'

Once the introduction has cleared, we are able to read the poem itself. It is 999 lines long: 166 for Canto One, 334 for Canto Two and Three, and 165 lines for Canto four. Kinbote tell us that the poem should in fact be 1,000 lines, with the first line of the poem repeated as the last, '...and would have completed the symmetry of the structure, with its two identical central parts, solid and ample, forming together with the shorter flanks twin wings of five hundred verses each, and damn that music.'

We are told in the introduction that the poem is about Zembla, which means that when we read Pale Fire, we are searching for references and commentary on this (presumably) mythical country. Canto One and Two incite doubt, Canto Three assures us, and Canto four confirms that there will be no references to Zembla. From the first, we are unsure of our narrator.

To the meat of the text, then. Kinbote offers to explain verses and lines, sometimes in great detail. A number of these are purely literary in explanation. He locates references, comments upon the language used (both negatively and positively), and generally acts as a normal editor would. These comments are usually clever, accurate and informed.

But the bulk of the text comes from Kinbote's other comments. As we know from the introduction, Kinbote is desperate to prove a link between the poem and himself. He is so certain of his great friendship with Shade that surely it must be inspired by his majestic Zembla? A word ('Today' on one occasion, 'parents' on another) can spark a multi-page discourse on Zembla, on Kinbote, on the perceived connections. As we read, it becomes clear the lengths that Kinbote must go to prove any connection at all. At first, this seems the enthusiastic ramblings of a friend, but as we read, it becomes clear that Kinbote is not quite sane. He spies upon Shade, he creates connections that aren't there, he believes everything is stronger than it is. Why, we are unsure. Is he a fan, become obsessed with his favourite poet?

A third story - and we are crowded with them, it seems - is that of Gradus, a man hired to assassinate the deposed Zemblan King. As the analysis of the poem approaches an end, so to does Gradus come closer to finally killing Shade. This is not a spoiler - we are told from the start that Gradus killed Shade. But what we don't know is the motive. Was it to kill the King? Or was it case of mistaken identity with a Judge? Again, we are unsure, because Kinbote is so unreliable.

I say unreliable, yet he is reasonably consistent within himself. Zembla is an astonishing construct, with history, geography, culture and customs. Add to that the fact of Kinbote working at a university teaching Zemblan, and we remain unsure as to the truth of, well, everything.

So, a detective story. It is horribly complicated, yet at the same time completely straight forward. All of the plot lines begin at the start of the novel and are resolved in a straight forward manner. Kinbote does not reveal himself to be the exiled King at first, but that is a simple matter of reading between the lines - he goes to no real effort to hide the fact. And Shade is dead, we know that from the start. No, the 'detective' aspect of Pale Fire is that we don't know what to believe. There are multiple interpretations for everything, but the only detailed interpretation we have is Kinbote's, and his is so fantastic that it should be automatically discredited. Yet we cannot, due to the sheer confidence with which he tells his story.

A word on the poem. It is by turns beautifully written and evocatively plotted. The Second Canto deals with Shade's daughter's death, and is very sad. The language is impeccable, as all poems must be. 'How to locate in blackness, with a gasp, Terra the Fair, an orbicle of jasp' is lovely.

Similarly, the rest of the novel crackles with inspired description and wordplay. Nabokov is known for his love of language, it is quite astonishing to realise that English was his second language. We have such gems as 'Would he have crept, pistol in hand, to where a sun-bathing giant lay spread-eagled, a spread eagle of hair on his chest?'.

There is a lot to consider with Pale Fire. The beauty of the novel is easy to enjoy, and the plot, for what it is, works. The greatest enjoyment comes from the mystery of what is real and what is not, but a side entertainment is certainly available in the form of Kinbote's literary criticism, some of which is biting. We may assume that this is Nabokov speaking, as he was known for his harsh judgment on literature.

To end, Pale Fire is complicated and complex, but the rewards are great. If the idea of a novel wrapped around the analysis of a poem is not appealing, then stay away. But if beautiful language, wonderful prose and excellent literature is to your taste, by all means, read Pale Fire.

Mad bad and glorious to know!, 23 Jun 2006
Take everything you knew or thought about Vladimir Nabokov, and stuff it in the trash. Experimental novel "Pale Fire" is a strange, haunting, magical experience, and as different from most novels as it can get. Like a textured surrealist painting, that is hard to take in on only one reading, let alone describe to someone who's never read it.

"Pale Fire" is a poem, 999 lines and divided into four cantos, written by poet John Shade. It's moving, vibrant and breathtaking. And it's posthumously annotated by scholar (and head case) Charles Kinbote, supposedly from the fictional Zembla (don't ask). In the "backwoods," Kinbote overdissects and reexamines the strange poem. Increasingly he is drawn into the web of words, stuck on the poem and believing it to be about him.

A strain of subtle, dark humor runs through "Pale Fire." Not funny-ha-ha humor, but one that only becomes apparent if you study it. In a nutshell, the humor here pokes at critics who read what they want to see into literature. Everyone has seen a passage or a line that strikes them to the soul. The entirety of "Pale Fire" does this to Kinbote, and his obsession with making it about himself is weirdly hypnotic.

Most unique (and funny) is the sort of analysis that Kinbote does of "Pale Fire." It's overblown, unlikely, and tailored to his delusions. He sees what he wants to see, and tries to turn ordinary phrases into deep allusions, and even adjust the whole point of the poem. What else do literary analysts do? It's hilarious to see Kinbote bend, twist and mangle every little phrase to fit. After all, who hasn't heard that "Lord of the Rings" is about World War II or the atom bomb? Or listened to a professor pinning a mess of Freudian theory on poor Hamlet?

The poem "Pale Fire" is the soul and core of this unorthodox novel. Perhaps only in A.S. Byatt's "Possession" does another poem so completely show the soul of a fictional character. Nabokov's poetry has the classic flavor of his prose. It's delicate and evocative without being overdescriptive. "I was the shadow of the waxwing slain/In the false azure of the windowpane" is among the loveliest excerpts, from the very beginning of the first canto.

And Nabokov's narrative is both dizzying and madly brilliant. He takes us on a ride into Kinbote's very, very disturbed mind and makes the journey stranger as the book goes on. At the same time, he crafts this as a puzzle. Not a mystery, a puzzle. Hints are dropped, questions are raised, and just try to dare to overanalyze any of it.

"Pale Fire" is a book that has to be read to be believed: A satire within a poem within a novel. Unique and witty, spellbinding and avant-garde, this is a thinking reader's classic.

Metafictional Devices, 12 Nov 2003
This novel is seminal in the development of metafiction as a virtual genre. Nabokov weaves his epic poem into the novel seamlessly. The poem becomes both the central movement and the theme for the novel as the narrator becomes more and more obsessed with poet Shade's work and life. It is a masterpiece.

not pale, but dark, 01 Jul 2002
...Nabokov doesn't waste words (in english or any of his languages).
The searing humour of Pale Fire does not have equals. in american lit. melvilles "confidence Man" may come close.
poem & commentary tell parts of the story. weep as the assasin succumbs to diarrhoea. curse at nabokov's thumbnail sketches: "a self made widower". ultimately the book seduces by flattering the reader at his being able to read the invisible ink.
keeping whippets spoils a person for other dogs; you keep expecting more. this book has a similar effect- more than the sum of it's parts. read slowly.

Selfishness and stupidity cause more pain than evil can, 18 Oct 2008
In the field of erotic literature, this novel has probably touched the awareness of the public more than any other, to such an extent that the once innocuous name of Lolita has become another name for youthful feminine charm and sexuality, to put it mildly.

Those are the historical facts, but what of the novel's merits? What is most definitely is not is pornographic: it doesn't contain a word of even mildly bad language, nor is it a trashy series of sex scenes featuring a girl of that name. In fact - surprise, surprise if you've never read it - Lolita doesn't even contain a girl called Lolita.

Writing in the first person, Nabakov does not directly tell the story of his famous heroine, but that of Humbert Humbert, a man obsessed with the memory of his dead childhood girlfriend, Annabel, to such an extent that his life is dominated by her loss. As his teens pass, and then his twenties, he fails to mature beyond his loss. When he meets a girl of twelve, Dolores Haze, who resembles his lost love, he attempts to posses her, body and soul, and in his obsessed mind he re-names her "Lolita." The final result is that both he and Dolores are destroyed, along with several other characters.

Is it a sad story of an unfortunately obsessed man, who should perhaps be pitied as much as condemned? No, for there is more to it than that. Is it a simple story? No, for Nabakov is not a simple writer, telling a plain story of black versus white. If he were, then Dolores would be a naïve and innocent girl, and Humbert an absolute villain.

But Nabokov is not a limited moraliser, wagging a solemn preacher's finger at a wrong-doer seeking his evil way in a world of innocence. Instead he examines the complexities of both love and lust, for Humbert finds that his hidden, furtive desire has met its mate, as he discovers that Dolores has an open, natural tendency to depravity to match his. Moreover, most of the characters that the two are in contact with are flawed, and some are so self-deceiving and tacky that the reader may be drawn into preferring Humbert's admitted lechery, and the reader, not allowed to deal easily with absolutes in a simple situation of right and wrong, is made to journey in an intriguing world of comparisons.

Whereas Dolores's nature is a mixture of easily given love and defensive cynicism - she rapidly falls in love with the handsome, exotic Frenchman - Humbert is cowardly, conceited and stupid, with a talent for bungling everything he attempts, from emotional relationships to violent crime, a failing that he does not notice.

Failing also to see that Dolores is attempting to seduce him, he seeks to trick here into a physical intimacy that she would have awarded him willingly. As his stupidity becomes more apparent, so does his indifference to the well being of others, as he accepts marries a woman he detests to gain control of Dolores, and later contemplates murdering her.
But all his desperate, bungling manoeuvres fail, until to his surprise - Dolores casually offers herself to him, after revealing that she has already had a lover.

Technically this is the climax of the novel, and here Nabokov ends the first of the two books into which it is divided. Some critics say that the latter half is too long, and I agree with them, remarking however that it may merely seem to long, due to being the record of a highly unpleasant relationship.

At about this time, the death of her mother gives Humbert total control of Dolores. He has achieved his great ambition, but he proves utterly incapable of living with his success. Dolores, sullen at the wandering life that they adopt, but entirely dependent on Humbert, strives not to regain her freedom, but for the two to lead some kind of stable life. But Humbert, living in a world of his own, composed of ecstasy and fear - he has gained Dolores, but is terrified of discovery - fails to listen to her, or realise that the actuality that he has gained is living Dolores, not imaginary Lolita.

Trapped in his conceited self-image - he is a pedantic scholar, who has produced no work of his own, but imagines himself a sophisticated artist - he fails to communicate with Dolores, or lower himself from his pretensions to her simpler, healthier attitude to life - "speak English!" as she says at one point - and he destroys what remains of her love for him.

As Dolores grows older she is able to gain more control over her affairs, and she tortures him as he has tortured her, and eventually escapes him. After several years of agonised search Humbert finds her again. Dolores, prematurely aged by hardship, is no longer the cute nymphet that he lusted for, but Humbert still loves her. He has finally achieved a maturity of sorts. He gives her a needed gift of cash, and the two part forever. Later both are destroyed by exterior forces.

However, Nabokov is not such a sentimentalist as to make Humbert's redemption complete, and it is by a further lunatic act that he causes his own end.

Graham Worthington, author, Wake of the Raven

Not for me, sorry., 04 Sep 2008
I see that I am in a minority of one (not the first time) but "Lolita" was a struggle for me. The obvious reason not to like this book is its storyline but I think that the paedophilia aspect is tastefully done. No, my problem lies with the constant references to other classic artists, writers and philosophers which meant nothing to me. Very little happens but what does is described to ridiculous lengths. There are constant interruptions to the writing with French that I couldn't understand. I needed an Oxford English dictionary as a constant companion and felt that Nabokov really was just showing off with English not being his first language. Maybe I am not educated or intelligent enough to appreciate this book but it did very little for me. Style maybe, substance no way.

Masterpiece, 11 Jul 2008
I have read this book a number of times, and can quite happily pick it up and read a single page purely for the pure majesty of the language.

Martin Amis, son of Kingsley Amis and a stylist like Nabokov, has a true love of this book and desribed it, inter alia, as "pure sensual pleasure". A feat of genius, made more staggering by the fact that it was written in Nabokov's second language.

I challenge anyone with a love of the English language and a heart to read this book and ever forget it.

My favourite book of ALL time, 19 May 2008
This is by far my most favourite book in the world ever! Words cannot describe how much I adore this book. It is true the subject matter is uncomfortable to think about especially today. Considering that English is not Nabokov's first language he writes it so beautifully that almost every page has a line which really sounds lyrical, rythmic and just plainly beautiful.
The book pulls your moral thoughts all over the place. The question; who takes advantage of who? is one which I always come back to, and like to ask the people who read it.
I have read this book about four times which I almost never do and I recommend it to everyone I read. It is, I suppose, an example of how something can be beautiful and wrong at the same time. It is also ultimately a book about love. Unrequited love, forbidden love, consuming love, manipulative love. There are so many aspects to love explored in this book.

Superlative, 30 Apr 2008
Where to begin? One of the most moving novels in the English language - rich, lyrical, intelligent, and eloquent beyond belief. Not for fans of Raymond Carver.

One man's madness, 15 May 2008
Pale Fire explores the wayward mind of Charles Kinbote, a university teacher brimming with outrageous delusions. Firstly, he believes himself to be the exiled King of Zembla (Zembla being a "distant northern land" in the vain of Hyperborea or, say, Avalon). Secondly, Kinbote is obsessed with an old poet named John Shade, who just happens to live across the way on campus, and it's with Shade's latest and last poem that the novel begins, a poem which Kinote utterly misinteprets as being about his life in the kingdom of Zembla and his daring escape to America from a plot to assassinate him. The result of all this delusion is a humorous, puzzling, and brilliantly imaginative account of one man's insanity, a madness that turns out to be strangely endearing, and which during its exposure invites the reader to decipher the truth of what really happened. Arguably Nabokov's finest novel, it's a perfect mix of fantasy and reality.

Pale Fire, 22 Oct 2007
At its simplest, Pale Fire is an examination of the 999-line poem in four cantos, 'Pale Fire' by respected Zemblan scholar Charles Kinbote, a friend of the recently deceased poet, John Shade. The novel becomes less simple when we realise that John Shade is a fictional poet, that Zembla may or may not exist, and that our friend Charles Kinbote is either the King of Zembla or insane, or perhaps both.

The novel opens, appropriately, with an introduction to the text about to be studied. Kinbote goes to great lengths to assure us that his land of Zembla and his 'great secret' are a major theme of the poem. He also repeatedly affirms his friendship with Shade, though the remainder of the text allows a severe amount of doubt as to the strength of their relationship.

John Shade, poet par excellence, is presented as an earthy, ugly man. Kinbote tries to exalt him to a higher plan at times, though textually we only ever see Shade for what he is - a poet, a great poet perhaps, but a poet. He isn't a God of letters or the Saviour of a nation, he is a man. But Kinbote has this to say of Shade's creative process: 'I am witnessing a unique physiological phenomenon: John Shade perceiving and transforming the world, taking it in and taking it apart, re-combing its element in the very process of storing them up so as to produce at some unspecified date an organic miracle, a fusion of image and music, a line of verse.'

Once the introduction has cleared, we are able to read the poem itself. It is 999 lines long: 166 for Canto One, 334 for Canto Two and Three, and 165 lines for Canto four. Kinbote tell us that the poem should in fact be 1,000 lines, with the first line of the poem repeated as the last, '...and would have completed the symmetry of the structure, with its two identical central parts, solid and ample, forming together with the shorter flanks twin wings of five hundred verses each, and damn that music.'

We are told in the introduction that the poem is about Zembla, which means that when we read Pale Fire, we are searching for references and commentary on this (presumably) mythical country. Canto One and Two incite doubt, Canto Three assures us, and Canto four confirms that there will be no references to Zembla. From the first, we are unsure of our narrator.

To the meat of the text, then. Kinbote offers to explain verses and lines, sometimes in great detail. A number of these are purely literary in explanation. He locates references, comments upon the language used (both negatively and positively), and generally acts as a normal editor would. These comments are usually clever, accurate and informed.

But the bulk of the text comes from Kinbote's other comments. As we know from the introduction, Kinbote is desperate to prove a link between the poem and himself. He is so certain of his great friendship with Shade that surely it must be inspired by his majestic Zembla? A word ('Today' on one occasion, 'parents' on another) can spark a multi-page discourse on Zembla, on Kinbote, on the perceived connections. As we read, it becomes clear the lengths that Kinbote must go to prove any connection at all. At first, this seems the enthusiastic ramblings of a friend, but as we read, it becomes clear that Kinbote is not quite sane. He spies upon Shade, he creates connections that aren't there, he believes everything is stronger than it is. Why, we are unsure. Is he a fan, become obsessed with his favourite poet?

A third story - and we are crowded with them, it seems - is that of Gradus, a man hired to assassinate the deposed Zemblan King. As the analysis of the poem approaches an end, so to does Gradus come closer to finally killing Shade. This is not a spoiler - we are told from the start that Gradus killed Shade. But what we don't know is the motive. Was it to kill the King? Or was it case of mistaken identity with a Judge? Again, we are unsure, because Kinbote is so unreliable.

I say unreliable, yet he is reasonably consistent within himself. Zembla is an astonishing construct, with history, geography, culture and customs. Add to that the fact of Kinbote working at a university teaching Zemblan, and we remain unsure as to the truth of, well, everything.

So, a detective story. It is horribly complicated, yet at the same time completely straight forward. All of the plot lines begin at the start of the novel and are resolved in a straight forward manner. Kinbote does not reveal himself to be the exiled King at first, but that is a simple matter of reading between the lines - he goes to no real effort to hide the fact. And Shade is dead, we know that from the start. No, the 'detective' aspect of Pale Fire is that we don't know what to believe. There are multiple interpretations for everything, but the only detailed interpretation we have is Kinbote's, and his is so fantastic that it should be automatically discredited. Yet we cannot, due to the sheer confidence with which he tells his story.

A word on the poem. It is by turns beautifully written and evocatively plotted. The Second Canto deals with Shade's daughter's death, and is very sad. The language is impeccable, as all poems must be. 'How to locate in blackness, with a gasp, Terra the Fair, an orbicle of jasp' is lovely.

Similarly, the rest of the novel crackles with inspired description and wordplay. Nabokov is known for his love of language, it is quite astonishing to realise that English was his second language. We have such gems as 'Would he have crept, pistol in hand, to where a sun-bathing giant lay spread-eagled, a spread eagle of hair on his chest?'.

There is a lot to consider with Pale Fire. The beauty of the novel is easy to enjoy, and the plot, for what it is, works. The greatest enjoyment comes from the mystery of what is real and what is not, but a side entertainment is certainly available in the form of Kinbote's literary criticism, some of which is biting. We may assume that this is Nabokov speaking, as he was known for his harsh judgment on literature.

To end, Pale Fire is complicated and complex, but the rewards are great. If the idea of a novel wrapped around the analysis of a poem is not appealing, then stay away. But if beautiful language, wonderful prose and excellent literature is to your taste, by all means, read Pale Fire.

Mad bad and glorious to know!, 23 Jun 2006
Take everything you knew or thought about Vladimir Nabokov, and stuff it in the trash. Experimental novel "Pale Fire" is a strange, haunting, magical experience, and as different from most novels as it can get. Like a textured surrealist painting, that is hard to take in on only one reading, let alone describe to someone who's never read it.

"Pale Fire" is a poem, 999 lines and divided into four cantos, written by poet John Shade. It's moving, vibrant and breathtaking. And it's posthumously annotated by scholar (and head case) Charles Kinbote, supposedly from the fictional Zembla (don't ask). In the "backwoods," Kinbote overdissects and reexamines the strange poem. Increasingly he is drawn into the web of words, stuck on the poem and believing it to be about him.

A strain of subtle, dark humor runs through "Pale Fire." Not funny-ha-ha humor, but one that only becomes apparent if you study it. In a nutshell, the humor here pokes at critics who read what they want to see into literature. Everyone has seen a passage or a line that strikes them to the soul. The entirety of "Pale Fire" does this to Kinbote, and his obsession with making it about himself is weirdly hypnotic.

Most unique (and funny) is the sort of analysis that Kinbote does of "Pale Fire." It's overblown, unlikely, and tailored to his delusions. He sees what he wants to see, and tries to turn ordinary phrases into deep allusions, and even adjust the whole point of the poem. What else do literary analysts do? It's hilarious to see Kinbote bend, twist and mangle every little phrase to fit. After all, who hasn't heard that "Lord of the Rings" is about World War II or the atom bomb? Or listened to a professor pinning a mess of Freudian theory on poor Hamlet?

The poem "Pale Fire" is the soul and core of this unorthodox novel. Perhaps only in A.S. Byatt's "Possession" does another poem so completely show the soul of a fictional character. Nabokov's poetry has the classic flavor of his prose. It's delicate and evocative without being overdescriptive. "I was the shadow of the waxwing slain/In the false azure of the windowpane" is among the loveliest excerpts, from the very beginning of the first canto.

And Nabokov's narrative is both dizzying and madly brilliant. He takes us on a ride into Kinbote's very, very disturbed mind and makes the journey stranger as the book goes on. At the same time, he crafts this as a puzzle. Not a mystery, a puzzle. Hints are dropped, questions are raised, and just try to dare to overanalyze any of it.

"Pale Fire" is a book that has to be read to be believed: A satire within a poem within a novel. Unique and witty, spellbinding and avant-garde, this is a thinking reader's classic.

Metafictional Devices, 12 Nov 2003
This novel is seminal in the development of metafiction as a virtual genre. Nabokov weaves his epic poem into the novel seamlessly. The poem becomes both the central movement and the theme for the novel as the narrator becomes more and more obsessed with poet Shade's work and life. It is a masterpiece.

not pale, but dark, 01 Jul 2002
...Nabokov doesn't waste words (in english or any of his languages).
The searing humour of Pale Fire does not have equals. in american lit. melvilles "confidence Man" may come close.
poem & commentary tell parts of the story. weep as the assasin succumbs to diarrhoea. curse at nabokov's thumbnail sketches: "a self made widower". ultimately the book seduces by flattering the reader at his being able to read the invisible ink.
keeping whippets spoils a person for other dogs; you keep expecting more. this book has a similar effect- more than the sum of it's parts. read slowly.

"You see, she had absolutely nowhere else to go", 25 Aug 2008
For as long as I can remember I have resisted reading Lolita. But because it is so often referred to as a "classic" I felt in the end I should put aside my prejudices and tackle it.

In many ways it is as I expected it to be. It is not a comfortable read and the unreliable narrator continually beguiles and tricks us. Humbert claims to love Lolita deeply but at the same time reveals the damage he is doing to her. The narrative is made even more intriguing by its attitude to Lolita - neither "innocent" nor "pure". Nabokov's language is superb - he revels in word play and the book is filled with literary allusions. The road trip across America is brilliantly seen through an outsider's critical eye.

I can see how Lolita has enthralled and irritated so many readers. It is in turns sad, subversive, funny and creepy.

Can I also recommend Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi which explores the book through the thoughts of young Iranian women.

One of the best books I've ever read, 09 Apr 2008
Without a doubt, one of the best books I've ever read. It's warm and funny and scary and confusing and (at times) an outright assault on everything polite society brought us up to expect. I liked it so much that the second I finished Lolita, I started right back at the beginning. I was excited... really excited (ok, maybe excited is a poorly chosen word in this case) about what I'd just read, still, I didn't want to hastily declare it one of my favorite novels. So I went back... read it again... re-read my notes and highlighted text, and added even more notes and highlights.

Here are a few random thoughts:
- It seems to be predominately women who love Lolita. I'm thinking this is half because women, by nature, are more likely to romanticize the situation and overlook the pedophiliac angle... and because I imagine very few men are comfortable in any way identifying with the subject matter.
- I agree 100% that Humbert loved Lolita, but I balk at some of the reviews claiming this to be the best love story ever written. Unrequited love? Sure. But reciprocal, healthy and mutual love... what are these people smoking??
- I find it fascinating that a small but vocal faction of women who loved the book feel the need to vilify Lolita for her cruelty to Humbert. It's almost as if - in order to love & approve of Humbert, Lolita must be the persecutor and not the victim. No consideration is given to the possibility that Lolita's circumstances formed her as a person.
- Nabokov is an extremely gifted writer. His long, complicated sentences unfold like exotic hothouse flowers. And kudos to him for taking no prisoners in the telling of a difficult tale. I mean, it took balls to write a story like this. He had to anticipate the backlash. Still, he didn't shy away or give his readers an easy out - a good reason to forgive Humbert. Yet they still did/do. That alone I admire beyond belief.


I honestly didn't feel that Nabokov glorified or sensationalized the subject of pedophilia. He just told a story and told it extremely well. I can appreciate it the same way I appreciate ultra-violent films or novels like A Clockwork Orange: they're all stories that remind us of the fine line between humanity and brutality.

The sexual aspect of Lolita is 100% repugnant, no denying that. And if Nabokov had soft-peddled that part one iota, I'd be pulling up a soapbox decrying the whole thing. Instead what he did was enable the reader to imagine... really imagine... what must go on in the head of a pedophile. He also shows us how these monsters can be (and often are) the school teachers, guidance counselors, Scout leaders, coaches and pastors. They're not all scary, toothless guys in trench coats offering candy to babies in parks. If nothing else, Nabokov shows us this with gusto.

Is it ugly, vulgar at times, and uncomfortable? You bet, and it should be. I'd question it if it were any other way. But it's also beautifully written and something that will stick with you long after you've finished the final page. And that's ok, too. It's possible (though extremely rare) to have both coexist in a kind of uncomfortable harmony... and, credit where it's due, Nabokov, I felt, walked that line better than just about anything else I've ever had the pleasure of reading.

A depraved work of fiction, 28 Nov 2007
I bought this book because it always appears in the lists of classic novels and the reviews I read spoke of the beautiful language it is written in.
I have to say I found it utterly revolting. Let's be perfectly straight about the plot. It is about a middle-aged man who lusts after young girls (a paedophile, in other words) and who preys upon one particular twelve-year-old girl, compelling her to have sex with him (often painfully so) over the course of a year.
I do not care how wonderfully Nabokov commands the English language, his subject matter is repugnant.
I would give this book no stars were it possible and urge anybody thinking of buying it to look elsewhere for a genuine classic.

Gifted writing style makes this a classic., 08 Aug 2007
I agree with a number of other reviews in that the subject matter - a man's obsession with a 12 year old girl - initially put me off reading Lolita. However, given the large number of people who have this book rated as one of the best of the 20th century, I thought I'd give it a go. Simply put: this is a brilliant read. I took pure delight is Nabokov's writing style; as Martin Amis writes on the back cover 'Lolita is comedy, subversive yet divine... You read Lolita sprawling limply in your chair, ravished, overcome, nodding scandalized assent'. Yes, there was an instance or two where I blanched, but the author carries the theme so well that it is soon forgotten. I even found myself feeling sympathy for Humbert and feeling guilty about it! If you have read and enjoyed 'The Ginger Man' by J.P.Donleavy, you'll enjoy Lolita; likewise if you have enjoyed Lolita go and read The Ginger Man. This is a book that could easily be read a number of times and each time new word-play/expression would be unearthed.

I would agree wholeheartedly with the view that Lolita is a 20th century classic and a very readable one too.

A gloriously satirical look at the frailties of our minds, 23 Oct 2006
Lolita probably does not need much of an introduction. In the unlikely event you have never heard of this tome, made into a movie twice, the title gives a substantive hint. I will summarise just in case. Humbert Humbert is a rakishly good looking man with eyes only for nymphet's; pre-teen girls of a certain character. Delores Haze is the primary object of his affection which the story mostly tracks after a preamble designed to give you same idea of Humberts substance; nefarious and sardonic. The entire story is written in the first person as a narrative by Humbert in the form of a memoir.

The story opens with a forward credited to John Ray and then launches into the memoir. My oh MY! We could go into the moralities, but to read this through moral eyes is to waste your time and put you at the irreverent hands of Nabokov.

Taking this for what it is then. It is a gloriously satirical look at the frailties of our minds, manipulated by a plot cleverly woven through a beginning that magically tells you all, a middle that horrifies while enticing you, and an end that turns the whole thing on its head.

Having finished this, so enthralled, my first impulse was to turn back to the very beginning and go again. Not for any weakness in the structure but to find everything in certainty I had been told but dismissed as irrelevant and of course to spend more time with these endearing, vivid characters.

If for some reason you finish this book and can only think the 'P' word then you have been misled by your culturally ingrained moral code. What a pity that so many people read this and miss the real story.

A must read for my mind.

Pros - Written by a master of multiple languages, it is riveting, horrific, charming, funny and poignant. A tale with prose that is almost poetry. Even if you're going to view this through moral eyes any lover of words is going to come out of this enriched.

Con - Nabokov was an aspiring American Writer at the time he wrote this. His unfamiliarity with American geography shows during a brief section towards the middle, sounding a little like he is describing post cards.

Selfishness and stupidity cause more pain than evil can, 18 Oct 2008
In the field of erotic literature, this novel has probably touched the awareness of the public more than any other, to such an extent that the once innocuous name of Lolita has become another name for youthful feminine charm and sexuality, to put it mildly.

Those are the historical facts, but what of the novel's merits? What is most definitely is not is pornographic: it doesn't contain a word of even mildly bad language, nor is it a trashy series of sex scenes featuring a girl of that name. In fact - surprise, surprise if you've never read it - Lolita doesn't even contain a girl called Lolita.

Writing in the first person, Nabakov does not directly tell the story of his famous heroine, but that of Humbert Humbert, a man obsessed with the memory of his dead childhood girlfriend, Annabel, to such an extent that his life is dominated by her loss. As his teens pass, and then his twenties, he fails to mature beyond his loss. When he meets a girl of twelve, Dolores Haze, who resembles his lost love, he attempts to posses her, body and soul, and in his obsessed mind he re-names her "Lolita." The final result is that both he and Dolores are destroyed, along with several other characters.

Is it a sad story of an unfortunately obsessed man, who should perhaps be pitied as much as condemned? No, for there is more to it than that. Is it a simple story? No, for Nabakov is not a simple writer, telling a plain story of black versus white. If he were, then Dolores would be a naïve and innocent girl, and Humbert an absolute villain.

But Nabokov is not a limited moraliser, wagging a solemn preacher's finger at a wrong-doer seeking his evil way in a world of innocence. Instead he examines the complexities of both love and lust, for Humbert finds that his hidden, furtive desire has met its mate, as he discovers that Dolores has an open, natural tendency to depravity to match his. Moreover, most of the characters that the two are in contact with are flawed, and some are so self-deceiving and tacky that the reader may be drawn into preferring Humbert's admitted lechery, and the reader, not allowed to deal easily with absolutes in a simple situation of right and wrong, is made to journey in an intriguing world of comparisons.

Whereas Dolores's nature is a mixture of easily given love and defensive cynicism - she rapidly falls in love with the handsome, exotic Frenchman - Humbert is cowardly, conceited and stupid, with a talent for bungling everything he attempts, from emotional relationships to violent crime, a failing that he does not notice.

Failing also to see that Dolores is attempting to seduce him, he seeks to trick here into a physical intimacy that she would have awarded him willingly. As his stupidity becomes more apparent, so does his indifference to the well being of others, as he accepts marries a woman he detests to gain control of Dolores, and later contemplates murdering her.
But all his desperate, bungling manoeuvres fail, until to his surprise - Dolores casually offers herself to him, after revealing that she has already had a lover.

Technically this is the climax of the novel, and here Nabokov ends the first of the two books into which it is divided. Some critics say that the latter half is too long, and I agree with them, remarking however that it may merely seem to long, due to being the record of a highly unpleasant relationship.

At about this time, the death of her mother gives Humbert total control of Dolores. He has achieved his great ambition, but he proves utterly incapable of living with his success. Dolores, sullen at the wandering life that they adopt, but entirely dependent on Humbert, strives not to regain her freedom, but for the two to lead some kind of stable life. But Humbert, living in a world of his own, composed of ecstasy and fear - he has gained Dolores, but is terrified of discovery - fails to listen to her, or realise that the actuality that he has gained is living Dolores, not imaginary Lolita.

Trapped in his conceited self-image - he is a pedantic scholar, who has produced no work of his own, but imagines himself a sophisticated artist - he fails to communicate with Dolores, or lower himself from his pretensions to her simpler, healthier attitude to life - "speak English!" as she says at one point - and he destroys what remains of her love for him.

As Dolores grows older she is able to gain more control over her affairs, and she tortures him as he has tortured her, and eventually escapes him. After several years of agonised search Humbert finds her again. Dolores, prematurely aged by hardship, is no longer the cute nymphet that he lusted for, but Humbert still loves her. He has finally achieved a maturity of sorts. He gives her a needed gift of cash, and the two part forever. Later both are destroyed by exterior forces.

However, Nabokov is not such a sentimentalist as to make Humbert's redemption complete, and it is by a further lunatic act that he causes his own end.

Graham Worthington, author, Wake of the Raven

Not for me, sorry., 04 Sep 2008
I see that I am in a minority of one (not the first time) but "Lolita" was a struggle for me. The obvious reason not to like this book is its storyline but I think that the paedophilia aspect is tastefully done. No, my problem lies with the constant references to other classic artists, writers and philosophers which meant nothing to me. Very little happens but what does is described to ridiculous lengths. There are constant interruptions to the writing with French that I couldn't understand. I needed an Oxford English dictionary as a constant companion and felt that Nabokov really was just showing off with English not being his first language. Maybe I am not educated or intelligent enough to appreciate this book but it did very little for me. Style maybe, substance no way.

Masterpiece, 11 Jul 2008
I have read this book a number of times, and can quite happily pick it up and read a single page purely for the pure majesty of the language.

Martin Amis, son of Kingsley Amis and a stylist like Nabokov, has a true love of this book and desribed it, inter alia, as "pure sensual pleasure". A feat of genius, made more staggering by the fact that it was written in Nabokov's second language.

I challenge anyone with a love of the English language and a heart to read this book and ever forget it.

My favourite book of ALL time, 19 May 2008
This is by far my most favourite book in the world ever! Words cannot describe how much I adore this book. It is true the subject matter is uncomfortable to think about especially today. Considering that English is not Nabokov's first language he writes it so beautifully that almost every page has a line which really sounds lyrical, rythmic and just plainly beautiful.
The book pulls your moral thoughts all over the place. The question; who takes advantage of who? is one which I always come back to, and like to ask the people who read it.
I have read this book about four times which I almost never do and I recommend it to everyone I read. It is, I suppose, an example of how something can be beautiful and wrong at the same time. It is also ultimately a book about love. Unrequited love, forbidden love, consuming love, manipulative love. There are so many aspects to love explored in this book.

Superlative, 30 Apr 2008
Where to begin? One of the most moving novels in the English language - rich, lyrical, intelligent, and eloquent beyond belief. Not for fans of Raymond Carver.

One man's madness, 15 May 2008
Pale Fire explores the wayward mind of Charles Kinbote, a university teacher brimming with outrageous delusions. Firstly, he believes himself to be the exiled King of Zembla (Zembla being a "distant northern land" in the vain of Hyperborea or, say, Avalon). Secondly, Kinbote is obsessed with an old poet named John Shade, who just happens to live across the way on campus, and it's with Shade's latest and last poem that the novel begins, a poem which Kinote utterly misinteprets as being about his life in the kingdom of Zembla and his daring escape to America from a plot to assassinate him. The result of all this delusion is a humorous, puzzling, and brilliantly imaginative account of one man's insanity, a madness that turns out to be strangely endearing, and which during its exposure invites the reader to decipher the truth of what really happened. Arguably Nabokov's finest novel, it's a perfect mix of fantasy and reality.

Pale Fire, 22 Oct 2007
At its simplest, Pale Fire is an examination of the 999-line poem in four cantos, 'Pale Fire' by respected Zemblan scholar Charles Kinbote, a friend of the recently deceased poet, John Shade. The novel becomes less simple when we realise that John Shade is a fictional poet, that Zembla may or may not exist, and that our friend Charles Kinbote is either the King of Zembla or insane, or perhaps both.

The novel opens, appropriately, with an introduction to the text about to be studied. Kinbote goes to great lengths to assure us that his land of Zembla and his 'great secret' are a major theme of the poem. He also repeatedly affirms his friendship with Shade, though the remainder of the text allows a severe amount of doubt as to the strength of their relationship.

John Shade, poet par excellence, is presented as an earthy, ugly man. Kinbote tries to exalt him to a higher plan at times, though textually we only ever see Shade for what he is - a poet, a great poet perhaps, but a poet. He isn't a God of letters or the Saviour of a nation, he is a man. But Kinbote has this to say of Shade's creative process: 'I am witnessing a unique physiological phenomenon: John Shade perceiving and transforming the world, taking it in and taking it apart, re-combing its element in the very process of storing them up so as to produce at some unspecified date an organic miracle, a fusion of image and music, a line of verse.'

Once the introduction has cleared, we are able to read the poem itself. It is 999 lines long: 166 for Canto One, 334 for Canto Two and Three, and 165 lines for Canto four. Kinbote tell us that the poem should in fact be 1,000 lines, with the first line of the poem repeated as the last, '...and would have completed the symmetry of the structure, with its two identical central parts, solid and ample, forming together with the shorter flanks twin wings of five hundred verses each, and damn that music.'

We are told in the introduction that the poem is about Zembla, which means that when we read Pale Fire, we are searching for references and commentary on this (presumably) mythical country. Canto One and Two incite doubt, Canto Three assures us, and Canto four confirms that there will be no references to Zembla. From the first, we are unsure of our narrator.

To the meat of the text, then. Kinbote offers to explain verses and lines, sometimes in great detail. A number of these are purely literary in explanation. He locates references, comments upon the language used (both negatively and positively), and generally acts as a normal editor would. These comments are usually clever, accurate and informed.

But the bulk of the text comes from Kinbote's other comments. As we know from the introduction, Kinbote is desperate to prove a link between the poem and himself. He is so certain of his great friendship with Shade that surely it must be inspired by his majestic Zembla? A word ('Today' on one occasion, 'parents' on another) can spark a multi-page discourse on Zembla, on Kinbote, on the perceived connections. As we read, it becomes clear the lengths that Kinbote must go to prove any connection at all. At first, this seems the enthusiastic ramblings of a friend, but as we read, it becomes clear that Kinbote is not quite sane. He spies upon Shade, he creates connections that aren't there, he believes everything is stronger than it is. Why, we are unsure. Is he a fan, become obsessed with his favourite poet?

A third story - and we are crowded with them, it seems - is that of Gradus, a man hired to assassinate the deposed Zemblan King. As the analysis of the poem approaches an end, so to does Gradus come closer to finally killing Shade. This is not a spoiler - we are told from the start that Gradus killed Shade. But what we don't know is the motive. Was it to kill the King? Or was it case of mistaken identity with a Judge? Again, we are unsure, because Kinbote is so unreliable.

I say unreliable, yet he is reasonably consistent within himself. Zembla is an astonishing construct, with history, geography, culture and customs. Add to that the fact of Kinbote working at a university teaching Zemblan, and we remain unsure as to the truth of, well, everything.

So, a detective story. It is horribly complicated, yet at the same time completely straight forward. All of the plot lines begin at the start of the novel and are resolved in a straight forward manner. Kinbote does not reveal himself to be the exiled King at first, but that is a simple matter of reading between the lines - he goes to no real effort to hide the fact. And Shade is dead, we know that from the start. No, the 'detective' aspect of Pale Fire is that we don't know what to believe. There are multiple interpretations for everything, but the only detailed interpretation we have is Kinbote's, and his is so fantastic that it should be automatically discredited. Yet we cannot, due to the sheer confidence with which he tells his story.

A word on the poem. It is by turns beautifully written and evocatively plotted. The Second Canto deals with Shade's daughter's death, and is very sad. The language is impeccable, as all poems must be. 'How to locate in blackness, with a gasp, Terra the Fair, an orbicle of jasp' is lovely.

Similarly, the rest of the novel crackles with inspired description and wordplay. Nabokov is known for his love of language, it is quite astonishing to realise that English was his second language. We have such gems as 'Would he have crept, pistol in hand, to where a sun-bathing giant lay spread-eagled, a spread eagle of hair on his chest?'.

There is a lot to consider with Pale Fire. The beauty of the novel is easy to enjoy, and the plot, for what it is, works. The greatest enjoyment comes from the mystery of what is real and what is not, but a side entertainment is certainly available in the form of Kinbote's literary criticism, some of which is biting. We may assume that this is Nabokov speaking, as he was known for his harsh judgment on literature.

To end, Pale Fire is complicated and complex, but the rewards are great. If the idea of a novel wrapped around the analysis of a poem is not appealing, then stay away. But if beautiful language, wonderful prose and excellent literature is to your taste, by all means, read Pale Fire.

Mad bad and glorious to know!, 23 Jun 2006
Take everything you knew or thought about Vladimir Nabokov, and stuff it in the trash. Experimental novel "Pale Fire" is a strange, haunting, magical experience, and as different from most novels as it can get. Like a textured surrealist painting, that is hard to take in on only one reading, let alone describe to someone who's never read it.

"Pale Fire" is a poem, 999 lines and divided into four cantos, written by poet John Shade. It's moving, vibrant and breathtaking. And it's posthumously annotated by scholar (and head case) Charles Kinbote, supposedly from the fictional Zembla (don't ask). In the "backwoods," Kinbote overdissects and reexamines the strange poem. Increasingly he is drawn into the web of words, stuck on the poem and believing it to be about him.

A strain of subtle, dark humor runs through "Pale Fire." Not funny-ha-ha humor, but one that only becomes apparent if you study it. In a nutshell, the humor here pokes at critics who read what they want to see into literature. Everyone has seen a passage or a line that strikes them to the soul. The entirety of "Pale Fire" does this to Kinbote, and his obsession with making it about himself is weirdly hypnotic.

Most unique (and funny) is the sort of analysis that Kinbote does of "Pale Fire." It's overblown, unlikely, and tailored to his delusions. He sees what he wants to see, and tries to turn ordinary phrases into deep allusions, and even adjust the whole point of the poem. What else do literary analysts do? It's hilarious to see Kinbote bend, twist and mangle every little phrase to fit. After all, who hasn't heard that "Lord of the Rings" is about World War II or the atom bomb? Or listened to a professor pinning a mess of Freudian theory on poor Hamlet?

The poem "Pale Fire" is the soul and core of this unorthodox novel. Perhaps only in A.S. Byatt's "Possession" does another poem so completely show the soul of a fictional character. Nabokov's poetry has the classic flavor of his prose. It's delicate and evocative without being overdescriptive. "I was the shadow of the waxwing slain/In the false azure of the windowpane" is among the loveliest excerpts, from the very beginning of the first canto.

And Nabokov's narrative is both dizzying and madly brilliant. He takes us on a ride into Kinbote's very, very disturbed mind and makes the journey stranger as the book goes on. At the same time, he crafts this as a puzzle. Not a mystery, a puzzle. Hints are dropped, questions are raised, and just try to dare to overanalyze any of it.

"Pale Fire" is a book that has to be read to be believed: A satire within a poem within a novel. Unique and witty, spellbinding and avant-garde, this is a thinking reader's classic.

Metafictional Devices, 12 Nov 2003
This novel is seminal in the development of metafiction as a virtual genre. Nabokov weaves his epic poem into the novel seamlessly. The poem becomes both the central movement and the theme for the novel as the narrator becomes more and more obsessed with poet Shade's work and life. It is a masterpiece.

not pale, but dark, 01 Jul 2002
...Nabokov doesn't waste words (in english or any of his languages).
The searing humour of Pale Fire does not have equals. in american lit. melvilles "confidence Man" may come close.
poem & commentary tell parts of the story. weep as the assasin succumbs to diarrhoea. curse at nabokov's thumbnail sketches: "a self made widower". ultimately the book seduces by flattering the reader at his being able to read the invisible ink.
keeping whippets spoils a person for other dogs; you keep expecting more. this book has a similar effect- more than the sum of it's parts. read slowly.

"You see, she had absolutely nowhere else to go", 25 Aug 2008
For as long as I can remember I have resisted reading Lolita. But because it is so often referred to as a "classic" I felt in the end I should put aside my prejudices and tackle it.

In many ways it is as I expected it to be. It is not a comfortable read and the unreliable narrator continually beguiles and tricks us. Humbert claims to love Lolita deeply but at the same time reveals the damage he is doing to her. The narrative is made even more intriguing by its attitude to Lolita - neither "innocent" nor "pure". Nabokov's language is superb - he revels in word play and the book is filled with literary allusions. The road trip across America is brilliantly seen through an outsider's critical eye.

I can see how Lolita has enthralled and irritated so many readers. It is in turns sad, subversive, funny and creepy.

Can I also recommend Reading Lolita in Tehran by Azar Nafisi which explores the book through the thoughts of young Iranian women.

One of the best books I've ever read, 09 Apr 2008
Without a doubt, one of the best books I've ever read. It's warm and funny and scary and confusing and (at times) an outright assault on everything polite society brought us up to expect. I liked it so much that the second I finished Lolita, I started right back at the beginning. I was excited... really excited (ok, maybe excited is a poorly chosen word in this case) about what I'd just read, still, I didn't want to hastily declare it one of my favorite novels. So I went back... read it again... re-read my notes and highlighted text, and added even more notes and highlights.

Here are a few random thoughts:
- It seems to be predominately women who love Lolita. I'm thinking this is half because women, by nature, are more likely to romanticize the situation and overlook the pedophiliac angle... and because I imagine very few men are comfortable in any way identifying with the subject matter.
- I agree 100% that Humbert loved Lolita, but I balk at some of the reviews claiming this to be the best love story ever written. Unrequited love? Sure. But reciprocal, healthy and mutual love... what are these people smoking??
- I find it fascinating that a small but vocal faction of women who loved the book feel the need to vilify Lolita for her cruelty to Humbert. It's almost as if - in order to love & approve of Humbert, Lolita must be the persecutor and not the victim. No consideration is given to the possibility that Lolita's circumstances formed her as a person.
- Nabokov is an extremely gifted writer. His long, complicated sentences unfold like exotic hothouse flowers. And kudos to him for taking no prisoners in the telling of a difficult tale. I mean, it took balls to write a story like this. He had to anticipate the backlash. Still, he didn't shy away or give his readers an easy out - a good reason to forgive Humbert. Yet they still did/do. That alone I admire beyond belief.


I honestly didn't feel that Nabokov glorified or sensationalized the subject of pedophilia. He just told a story and told it extremely well. I can appreciate it the same way I appreciate ultra-violent films or novels like A Clockwork Orange: they're all stories that remind us of the fine line between humanity and brutality.

The sexual aspect of Lolita is 100% repugnant, no denying that. And if Nabokov had soft-peddled that part one iota, I'd be pulling up a soapbox decrying the whole thing. Instead what he did was enable the reader to imagine... really imagine... what must go on in the head of a pedophile. He also shows us how these monsters can be (and often are) the school teachers, guidance counselors, Scout leaders, coaches and pastors. They're not all scary, toothless guys in trench coats offering candy to babies in parks. If nothing else, Nabokov shows us this with gusto.

Is it ugly, vulgar at times, and uncomfortable? You bet, and it should be. I'd question it if it were any other way. But it's also beautifully written and something that will stick with you long after you've finished the final page. And that's ok, too. It's possible (though extremely rare) to have both coexist in a kind of uncomfortable harmony... and, credit where it's due, Nabokov, I felt, walked that line better than just about anything else I've ever had the pleasure of reading.

A depraved work of fiction, 28 Nov 2007
I bought this book because it always appears in the lists of classic novels and the reviews I read spoke of the beautiful language it is written in.
I have to say I found it utterly revolting. Let's be perfectly straight about the plot. It is about a middle-aged man who lusts after young girls (a paedophile, in other words) and who preys upon one particular twelve-year-old girl, compelling her to have sex with him (often painfully so) over the course of a year.
I do not care how wonderfully Nabokov commands the English language, his subject matter is repugnant.
I would give this book no stars were it possible and urge anybody thinking of buying it to look elsewhere for a genuine classic.

Gifted writing style makes this a classic., 08 Aug 2007
I agree with a number of other reviews in that the subject matter - a man's obsession with a 12 year old girl - initially put me off reading Lolita. However, given the large number of people who have this book rated as one of the best of the 20th century, I thought I'd give it a go. Simply put: this is a brilliant read. I took pure delight is Nabokov's writing style; as Martin Amis writes on the back cover 'Lolita is comedy, subversive yet divine... You read Lolita sprawling limply in your chair, ravished, overcome, nodding scandalized assent'. Yes, there was an instance or two where I blanched, but the author carries the theme so well that it is soon forgotten. I even found myself feeling sympathy for Humbert and feeling guilty about it! If you have read and enjoyed 'The Ginger Man' by J.P.Donleavy, you'll enjoy Lolita; likewise if you have enjoyed Lolita go and read The Ginger Man. This is a book that could easily be read a number of times and each time new word-play/expression would be unearthed.

I would agree wholeheartedly with the view that Lolita is a 20th century classic and a very readable one too.

A gloriously satirical look at the frailties of our minds, 23 Oct 2006
Lolita probably does not need much of an introduction. In the unlikely event you have never heard of this tome, made into a movie twice, the title gives a substantive hint. I will summarise just in case. Humbert Humbert is a rakishly good looking man with eyes only for nymphet's; pre-teen girls of a certain character. Delores Haze is the primary object of his affection which the story mostly tracks after a preamble designed to give you same idea of Humberts substance; nefarious and sardonic. The entire story is written in the first person as a narrative by Humbert in the form of a memoir.

The story opens with a forward credited to John Ray and then launches into the memoir. My oh MY! We could go into the moralities, but to read this through moral eyes is to waste your time and put you at the irreverent hands of Nabokov.

Taking this for what it is then. It is a gloriously satirical look at the frailties of our minds, manipulated by a plot cleverly woven through a beginning that magically tells you all, a middle that horrifies while enticing you, and an end that turns the whole thing on its head.

Having finished this, so enthralled, my first impulse was to turn back to the very beginning and go again. Not for any weakness in the structure but to find everything in certainty I had been told but dismissed as irrelevant and of course to spend more time with these endearing, vivid characters.

If for some reason you finish this book and can only think the 'P' word then you have been misled by your culturally ingrained moral code. What a pity that so many people read this and miss the real story.

A must read for my mind.

Pros - Written by a master of multiple languages, it is riveting, horrific, charming, funny and poignant. A tale with prose that is almost poetry. Even if you're going to view this through moral eyes any lover of words is going to come out of this enriched.

Con - Nabokov was an aspiring American Writer at the time he wrote this. His unfamiliarity with American geography shows during a brief section towards the middle, sounding a little like he is describing post cards.

A sight into the life Nabokov put on his fictions, 10 Jul 2001
In this book Navokov let us see how his works were pregnant of his past. It's a collection of several articles, a kind of puzzle, in wich we see through the coloured glass of his fine prose some scenes of his life recreated in his main caracters (Sebastian Knight, for example). He take us from Chapter one (wich begins with the words "The craddle..." and ends with "...the coffin") through his enchanted russian childhood and his first love affair with Tamara to the day he leaves France with his wife and child to begin his american years.More than a common biography you will find a novel that he doubles in 1974's "Look at the harlequins!" in a fine exercise of counterpoint.

Selfishness and stupidity cause more pain than evil can, 18 Oct 2008
In the field of erotic literature, this novel has probably touched the awareness of the public more than any other, to such an extent that the once innocuous name of Lolita has become another name for youthful feminine charm and sexuality, to put it mildly.

Those are the historical facts, but what of the novel's merits? What is most definitely is not is pornographic: it doesn't contain a word of even mildly bad language, nor is it a trashy series of sex scenes featuring a girl of that name. In fact - surprise, surprise if you've never read it - Lolita doesn't even contain a girl called Lolita.

Writing in the first person, Nabakov does not directly tell the story of his famous heroine, but that of Humbert Humbert, a man obsessed with the memory of his dead childhood girlfriend, Annabel, to such an extent that his life is dominated by her loss. As his teens pass, and then his twenties, he fails to mature beyond his loss. When he meets a girl of twelve, Dolores Haze, who resembles his lost love, he attempts to posses her, body and soul, and in his obsessed mind he re-names her "Lolita." The final result is that both he and Dolores are destroyed, along with several other characters.

Is it a sad story of an unfortunately obsessed man, who should perhaps be pitied as much as condemned? No, for there is more to it than that. Is it a simple story? No, for Nabakov is not a simple writer, telling a plain story of black versus white. If he were, then Dolores would be a naïve and innocent girl, and Humbert an absolute villain.

But Nabokov is not a limited moraliser, wagging a solemn preacher's finger at a wrong-doer seeking his evil way in a world of innocence. Instead he examines the complexities of both love and lust, for Humbert finds that his hidden, furtive desire has met its mate, as he discovers that Dolores has an open, natural tendency to depravity to match his. Moreover, most of the characters that the two are in contact with are flawed, and some are so self-deceiving and tacky that the reader may be drawn into preferring Humbert's admitted lechery, and the reader, not allowed to deal easily with absolutes in a simple situation of right and wrong, is made to journey in an intriguing world of comparisons.

Whereas Dolores's nature is a mixture of easily given love and defensive cynicism - she rapidly falls in love with the handsome, exotic Frenchman - Humbert is cowardly, conceited and stupid, with a talent for bungling everything he attempts, from emotional relationships to violent crime, a failing that he does not notice.

Failing also to see that Dolores is attempting to seduce him, he seeks to trick here into a physical intimacy that she would have awarded him willingly. As his stupidity becomes more apparent, so does his indifference to the well being of others, as he accepts marries a woman he detests to gain control of Dolores, and later contemplates murdering her.
But all his desperate, bungling manoeuvres fail, until to his surprise - Dolores casually offers herself to him, after revealing that she has already had a lover.

Technically this is the climax of the novel, and here Nabokov ends the first of the two books into which it is divided. Some critics say that the latter half is too long, and I agree with them, remarking however that it may merely seem to long, due to being the record of a highly unpleasant relationship.

At about this time, the death of her mother gives Humbert total control of Dolores. He has achieved his great ambition, but he proves utterly incapable of living with his success. Dolores, sullen at the wandering life that they adopt, but entirely dependent on Humbert, strives not to regain her freedom, but for the two to lead some kind of stable life. But Humbert, living in a world of his own, composed of ecstasy and fear - he has gained Dolores, but is terrified of discovery - fails to listen to her, or realise that the actuality that he has gained is living Dolores, not imaginary Lolita.

Trapped in his conceited self-image - he is a pedantic scholar, who has produced no work of his own, but imagines himself a sophisticated artist - he fails to communicate with Dolores, or lower himself from his pretensions to her simpler, healthier attitude to life - "speak English!" as she says at one point - and he destroys what remains of her love for him.

As Dolores grows older she is able to gain more control over her affairs, and she tortures him as he has tortured her, and eventually escapes him. After several years of agonised search Humbert finds her again. Dolores, prematurely aged by hardship, is no longer the cute nymphet that he lusted for, but Humbert still loves her. He has finally achieved a maturity of sorts. He gives her a needed gift of cash, and the two part forever. Later both are destroyed by exterior forces.

However, Nabokov is not such a sentimentalist as to make Humbert's redemption complete, and it is by a further lunatic act that he causes his own end.

Graham Worthington, author, Wake of the Raven

Not for me, sorry., 04 Sep 2008
I see that I am in a minority of one (not the first time) but "Lolita" was a struggle for me. The obvious reason not to like this book is its storyline but I think that the paedophilia aspect is tastefully done. No, my problem lies with the constant references to other classic artists, writers and philosophers which meant nothing to me. Very little happens but what does is described to ridiculous lengths. There are constant interruptions to the writing with French that I couldn't understand. I needed an Oxford English dictionary as a constant companion and felt that Nabokov really was just showing off with English not being his first language. Maybe I am not educated or intelligent enough to appreciate this book but it did very little for me. Style maybe, substance no way.

Masterpiece, 11 Jul 2008
I have read this book a number of times, and can quite happily pick it up and read a single page purely for the pure majesty of the language.

Martin Amis, son of Kingsley Amis and a stylist like Nabokov, has a true love of this book and desribed it, inter alia, as "pure sensual pleasure". A feat of genius, made more staggering by the fact that it was written in Nabokov's second language.

I challenge anyone with a love of the English language and a heart to read this book and ever forget it.

My favourite book of ALL time, 19 May 2008
This is by far my most favourite book in the world ever! Words cannot describe how much I adore this book. It is true the subject matter is uncomfortable to think about especially today. Considering that English is not Nabokov's first language he writes it so beautifully that almost every page has a line which really sounds lyrical, rythmic and just plainly beautiful.
The book pulls your moral thoughts all over the place. The question; who takes advantage of who? is one which I always come back to, and like to ask the people who read it.
I have read this book about four times which I almost never do and I recommend it to everyone I read. It is, I suppose, an example of how something can be beautiful and wrong at the same time. It is also ultimately a book about love. Unrequited love, forbidden love, consuming love, manipulative love. There are so many aspects to love explored in this book.

Superlative, 30 Apr 2008
Where to begin? One of the most moving novels in the English language - rich, lyrical, intelligent, and eloquent beyond belief. Not for fans of Raymond Carver.

One man's madness, 15 May 2008
Pale Fire explores the wayward mind of Charles Kinbote, a university teacher brimming with outrageous delusions. Firstly, he believes himself to be the exiled King of Zembla (Zembla being a "distant northern land" in the vain of Hyperborea or, say, Avalon). Secondly, Kinbote is obsessed with an old poet named John Shade, who just happens to live across the way on campus, and it's with Shade's latest and last poem that the novel begins, a poem which Kinote utterly misinteprets as being about his life in the kingdom of Zembla and his daring escape to America from a plot to assassinate him. The result of all this delusion is a humorous, puzzling, and brilliantly imaginative account of one man's insanity, a madness that turns out to be strangely endearing, and which during its exposure invites the reader to decipher the truth of what really happened. Arguably Nabokov's finest novel, it's a perfect mix of fantasy and reality.

Pale Fire, 22 Oct 2007
At its simplest, Pale Fire is an examination of the 999-line poem in four cantos, 'Pale Fire' by respected Zemblan scholar Charles Kinbote, a friend of the recently deceased poet, John Shade. The novel becomes less simple when we realise that John Shade is a fictional poet, that Zembla may or may not exist, and that our friend Charles Kinbote is either the King of Zembla or insane, or perhaps both.

The novel opens, appropriately, with an introduction to the text about to be studied. Kinbote goes to great lengths to assure us that his land of Zembla and his 'great secret' are a major theme of the poem. He also repeatedly affirms his friendship with Shade, though the remainder of the text allows a severe amount of doubt as to the strength of their relationship.

John Shade, poet par excellence, is presented as an earthy, ugly man. Kinbote tries to exalt him to a higher plan at times, though textually we only ever see Shade for what he is - a poet, a great poet perhaps, but a poet. He isn't a God of letters or the Saviour of a nation, he is a man. But Kinbote has this to say of Shade's creative process: 'I am witnessing a unique physiological phenomenon: John Shade perceiving and transforming the world, taking it in and taking it apart, re-combing its element in the very process of storing them up so as to produce at some unspecified date an organic miracle, a fusion of image and music, a line of verse.'

Once the introduction has cleared, we are able to read the poem itself. It is 999 lines long: 166 for Canto One, 334 for Canto Two and Three, and 165 lines for Canto four. Kinbote tell us that the poem should in fact be 1,000 lines, with the first line of the poem repeated as the last, '...and would have completed the symmetry of the structure, with its two identical central parts, solid and ample, forming together with the shorter flanks twin wings of five hundred verses each, and damn that music.'

We are told in the introduction that the poem is about Zembla, which means that when we read Pale Fire, we are searching for references and commentary on this (presumably) mythical country. Canto One and Two incite doubt, Canto Three assures us, and Canto four confirms that there will be no references to Zembla. From the first, we are unsure of our narrator.

To the meat of the text, then. Kinbote offers to explain verses and lines, sometimes in great detail. A number of these are purely literary in explanation. He locates references, comments upon the language used (both negatively and positively), and generally acts as a normal editor would. These comments are usually clever, accurate and informed.

But the bulk of the text comes from Kinbote's other comments. As we know from the introduction, Kinbote is desperate to prove a link between the poem and himself. He is so certain of his great friendship with Shade that surely it must be inspired by his majestic Zembla? A word ('Today' on one occasion, 'parents' on another) can spark a multi-page discourse on Zembla, on Kinbote, on the perceived connections. As we read, it becomes clear the lengths that Kinbote must go to prove any connection at all. At first, this seems the enthusiastic ramblings of a friend, but as we read, it becomes clear that Kinbote is not quite sane. He spies upon Shade, he creates connections that aren't there, he believes everything is stronger than it is. Why, we are unsure. Is he a fan, become obsessed with his favourite poet?

A third story - and we are crowded with them, it seems - is that of Gradus, a man hired to assassinate the deposed Zemblan King. As the analysis of the poem approaches an end, so to does Gradus come closer to finally killing Shade. This is not a spoiler - we are told from the start that Gradus killed Shade. But what we don't know is the motive. Was it to kill the King? Or was it case of mistaken identity with a Judge? Again, we are unsure, because Kinbote is so unreliable.

I say unreliable, yet he is reasonably consistent within himself. Zembla is an astonishing construct, with history, geography, culture and customs. Add to that the fact of Kinbote working at a university teaching Zemblan, and we remain unsure as to the truth of, well, everything.

So, a detective story. It is horribly complicated, yet at the same time completely straight forward. All of the plot lines begin at the start of the novel and are resolved in a straight forward manner. Kinbote does not reveal himself to be the exiled King at first, but that is a simple matter of reading between the lines - he goes to no real effort to hide the fact. And Shade is dead, we know that from the start. No, the 'detective' aspect of Pale Fire is that we don't know what to believe. There are multiple interpretations for everything, but the only detailed interpretation we have is Kinbote's, and his is so fantastic that it should be automatically discredited. Yet we cannot, due to the sheer confidence with which he tells his story.

A word on the poem. It is by turns beautifully written and evocatively plotted. The Second Canto deals with Shade's daughter's death, and is very sad. The language is impeccable, as all poems must be. 'How to locate in blackness, with a gasp, Terra the Fair, an orbicle of jasp' is lovely.

Similarly, the rest of the novel crackles with inspired description and wordplay. Nabokov is known for his love of language, it is quite astonishing to realise that English was his second language. We have such gems as 'Would he have crept, pistol in hand, to where a sun-bathing giant lay spread-eagled, a spread eagle of hair on his chest?'.

There is a lot to consider with Pale Fire. The beauty of the novel is easy to enjoy, and the plot, for what it is, works. The greatest enjoyment comes from the mystery of what is real and what is not, but a side entertainment is certainly available in the form of Kinbote's literary criticism, some of which is biting. We may assume that this is Nabokov speaking, as he was known for his harsh judgment on literature.

To end, Pale Fire is complicated and complex, but the rewards are great. If the idea of a novel wrapped around the analysis of a poem is not appealing, then stay away. But if beautiful language, wonderful prose and excellent literature is to your taste, by all means, read Pale Fire.

Mad bad and glorious to know!, 23 Jun 2006
Take everything you knew or thought about Vladimir Nabokov, and stuff it in the trash. Experimental novel "Pale Fire" is a strange, haunting, magical experience, and as different from most novels as it can get. Like a textured surrealist painting, that is hard to take in on only one reading, let alone describe to someone who's never read it.

"Pale Fire" is a poem, 999 lines and divided into four cantos, written by poet John Shade. It's moving, vibrant and breathtaking. And it's posthumously annotated by scholar (and head case) Charles Kinbote, supposedly from the fictional Zembla (don't ask). In the "backwoods," Kinbote overdissects and reexamines the strange poem. Increasingly he is drawn into the web of words, stuck on the poem and believing it to be about him.

A strain of subtle, dark humor runs through "Pale Fire." Not funny-ha-ha humor, but one that only becomes apparent if you study it. In a nutshell, the humor here pokes at critics who read what they want to see into literature. Everyone has seen a passage or a line that strikes them to the soul. The entirety of "Pale Fire" does this to Kinbote, and his obsession with making it about himself is weirdly hypnotic.

Most unique (and funny) is the sort of analysis that Kinbote does of "Pale Fire." It's overblown, unlikely, and tailored to his delusions. He sees what he wants to see, and tries to turn ordinary phrases into deep allusions, and even adjust the whole point of the poem. What else do literary analysts do? It's hilarious to see Kinbote bend, twist and mangle every little phrase to fit. After all, who hasn't heard that "Lord of the Rings" is about World War II or the atom bomb? Or listened to a professor pinning a mess of Freudian theory on poor Hamlet?

The poem "Pale Fire" is the soul and core of this unorthodox novel. Perhaps only in A.S. Byatt's "Possession" does another poem so completely show the soul of a fictional character. Nabokov's poetry has the classic flavor of his prose. It's delicate and evocative without being overdescriptive. "I was the shadow of the waxwing slain/In the false azure of the windowpane" is among the loveliest excerpts, from the very beginning of the first canto.

And Nabokov's narrative is both dizzying and madly brilliant. He takes us on a ride into Kinbote's very, very disturbed mind and makes the journey stranger as the book goes on. At the same time, he crafts this as a puzzle. Not a mystery, a puzzle. Hints are dropped, questions are raised, and just try to dare to overanalyze any of it.

"Pale Fire" is a book that has to be read to be believed: A satire within a poem within a novel. Unique and witty, spellbinding and avant-garde, this is a thinking reader's classic.

Metafictional Devices, 12 Nov 2003
This novel is seminal in the development of metafiction as a virtual genre. Nabokov weaves his epic poem into the novel seamlessly. The poem becomes both the central movement and the theme for the novel as the narrator becomes more and more obsessed with poet Shade's work and life. It is a masterpiece.

not pale, but dark, 01 Jul 2002
...Nabokov doesn't waste words (in english or any of his languages).
The searing humour of Pale Fire does not have equals. in american lit. melvilles "confidence Man" may come close.
poem & commentary tell parts of the story. weep as the assasin succumbs to diarrhoea. curse at nabokov's thumbnail sketches: "a self made wido