Subject
Re: Major Biological Review of _Nabokov's Blues: the Scientific
Odyssy of a Literary Genius_ by Johnson & Coates
Odyssy of a Literary Genius_ by Johnson & Coates
Date
Body
From: "Johnson, Kurt" <JohnsonK@Coudert.com>
The book Nabokov's Blues, along with telling the story of Nabokov's science,
raises a number of issues with regard to the overall directions of
biological science in the last decades. The premier biological website and
listserve for biologists and medicine (www.HMSBeagle.com) recently reviewed
Nabokov's Blues in detail, with a number of graphics, cross-links, and other
addended features. Notice of the review was also sent out on their
list-serve. You'll see that the reviewer does not necessarily agree with
all the views Johnson and Coates put forward regarding modern changes in
biological science, but found the Nabokov story (scientific and literary)
fascinating and well worth reading. The review is interesting because it
demonstrates professional scientists' "take" on the book. The reviewer, who
evidently has not read any of Nabokov's fiction, says he now feels moved to
do so. It's also worth noting that among the cross-links provided was one
to the Zembla website. That's perhaps a first for HMSBeagle.
Nabokov's Blues
The Scientific Odyssey of a Literary Genius
[review] [excerpt] [endlinks] [purchase]
by Kurt Johnson and Steve Coates
Reviewed by Jonathan D. Beard
[see notes on J. D. Beard, below]
Zoland Books, 1999
Posted March 3, 2000 · Issue 73
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----
Review
In 1945, Vladimir Nabokov published an article on butterflies - "Notes on
Neotropical Plebejinae" - in Pysche, a scholarly journal for lepidopterists.
Although the author was a curator at Harvard's Museum of Comparative
Zoology, almost no one noticed or read the article, for Nabokov was not yet
famous, and his subject, the classification of an obscure group of South
American butterflies known as "Blues," was not a hot topic. In addition, the
author's prose style was dense and impenetrable even by the standards of
taxonomy papers. So "Notes" gathered dust on library shelves for 40 years.
A book based on Nabokov's 1945 scholarly article.
One copy of "Notes" yellowed quietly at the American Museum of Natural
History in New York, where Kurt Johnson, one of the authors of Nabokov's
Blues, was working as a research associate in 1985. In the mid-1980s,
Johnson had visited Las Abejas, an isolated bit of forest in the Dominican
Republic, and brought back some Blues. When these specimens did not seem to
fit into the genus and species descriptions in the standard reference books,
Johnson remembered, from graduate school, that Nabokov had written about
these butterflies. A few minutes later he was in Room 82, where generations
of curators of lepidoptery had stacked reprints, and he soon had his hands
on "Notes." Nabokov's Blues is the story, running backward and forward in
time, and extending from Siberia to Tierra del Fuego, of this paper, its
author, his works, and the field of lepidoptery.
This is a great deal of territory, literally and figuratively, for one
340-page book to cover, and Johnson and Coates have divided it into several
sections that do not hang together perfectly. Some parts are successful: the
descriptions of the trials and triumphs of fieldwork in Latin America over
the last 15 years are exciting and colorful. As they seek out Nabokov's
Blues, a handful of collectors venture onto isolated Andean plateaus in
Peru, dismal wet grasslands in southern Chile, and into mining company
preserves in Santo Domingo. In Argentina they make a detour to help
paleontologists dig up bones of a long-extinct sloth before heading onward.
In both the Dominican Republic and Chile, they note the disappearance of
habitats and the species they sheltered, sometimes as they watch.
He got rich writing, and still collected butterflies.
The passages devoted to Nabokov also work surprisingly well, considering
that neither author knew much about the writer when they began the book.
There is a short biography, beginning with Nabokov's childhood as part of a
fabulously wealthy family (ruined by the revolution), who owned a country
estate where young Vladimir caught and mounted butterflies. This section
concentrates on his lepidopterist side, and while his novels and stories are
mentioned, there is no attempt to delve deeply into his literary career. The
biography ends with Nabokov's death, the result of a fall suffered while
collecting in the Alps, near Davos, Switzerland.
Ironically, it is the parts of the book about lepidoptery and Nabokov's
stature as a scientist that fall short. Since these are Kurt Johnson's own
fields of expertise, a reader might expect the sections on taxonomy; on the
"sociology of science," as the authors call it; and on the value of
Nabokov's contributions to lepidoptery to be the strongest parts of the
book. But Johnson is much too close to the issues here, and the sound of
axes being ground is often deafening.
Nabokov and Johnson are both taxonomists.
Johnson, like Nabokov, is primarily interested in taxonomy, the
categorization of organisms into species, genera, and larger groups. In
previous centuries, when biologists' tools were fewer, taxonomy enjoyed
preeminence, and careers were made identifying and naming the thousands of
plants and animals brought back by explorers and fossil hunters.
Now most biologists work with molecules, not organisms, and the big
reputations are made by synthesists dealing with big issues, such as
Darwinism. Nabokov, who did not have a Ph.D. in biology - or anything else -
was aware of what other scientists were saying and writing, but limited
himself to dissecting butterflies and assigning names during his brief
tenure at Harvard. Johnson's complaints about the changed priorities of
biology and museums lend a sour tone to many pages.
Nabokov abandoned science for literature in 1948.
Nabokov abandoned his career as a lab scientist in 1948, when Cornell
University offered him a job teaching European and Russian literature.
Although he continued to collect during every free moment, he gave up
dissecting and turned his attention to writing and teaching. In 1958, he
published Lolita, the wildly misunderstood and immensely successful novel
that made him a celebrity, and rich. He resigned from Cornell and moved to
Europe to write - and of course collect butterflies when possible. Even
after his death in 1977, he continued to be the subject of books and
articles.
One such article, which seems to be Johnson's bete noire, was by Philip
Zaleski, and ran in Harvard magazine in 1986. Zaleski drew Freudian
parallels between Nabokov's dissection of butterfly genitals (the standard
means of determining species) and his interest in human sexuality; he noted
the fact that "insect" is an anagram for "incest" (a subject in a Nabokov
novel), and included a quote from a Harvard professor emeritus noting that
"It's an Old World tradition, particularly in the wealthy families, to
become naturalists at the amateur level."
There's nothing funny about butterfly genitalia.
Odd as it seems, much of Nabokov's Blues is really a reply to these libels.
There is nothing funny about butterfly genitalia, the book seems to
admonish, for that is how classification is done. The argument adds that
Nabokov did not like psychology and hated Freudian interpretations. Nabokov
was not a mere butterfly collector, he was serious in his work, he got the
Blues's classification right, and those professors should not have sneered
at him; this is a repeated theme.
But why do Johnson and Coates protest so? First of all, Nabokov died rich
and famous, rare for serious writers and unknown for lepidopterists. Second,
the entire story told in Nabokov's Blues demonstrates that Nabokov was
astonishingly correct in his guesses about how the tropical Blues were
divided. Working from only the museum specimens available in New York and
Boston - Nabokov never set foot in Latin America and could not consult
European collections because of the war - he combined careful examination
with good luck and worked out which species belonged to which genus. The
fieldwork Johnson describes so well largely confirms this outline.
Despite its flaws, it's worth reading.
But Nabokov's Blues is well worth reading in spite of these weaknesses. It
is gracefully written, packed full of information about butterflies and
Latin America, and even has enough about Nabokov's books to temp this
reviewer to read one.
Jonathan D. Beard has been a journalist since 1981, when he left his job as
a librarian at Columbia University.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----
Excerpt
The Neotropical Blues not only represent a vast and intriguing biological
homeland but potentially hold the key to answers to some of the most
sweeping questions about the region's biological history. And unlike an
overwhelming majority of Earth's creatures, they are connected with the name
of a world celebrity, Vladimir Nabokov. That Nabokov's Latin American Blues
went unstudied for so long is in part a strong reflection on the inactivity
in basic biological science since 1945.
[There were then a number of addenda, cross-links and other web-related
materials provided] including a link to Zembla.
The book Nabokov's Blues, along with telling the story of Nabokov's science,
raises a number of issues with regard to the overall directions of
biological science in the last decades. The premier biological website and
listserve for biologists and medicine (www.HMSBeagle.com) recently reviewed
Nabokov's Blues in detail, with a number of graphics, cross-links, and other
addended features. Notice of the review was also sent out on their
list-serve. You'll see that the reviewer does not necessarily agree with
all the views Johnson and Coates put forward regarding modern changes in
biological science, but found the Nabokov story (scientific and literary)
fascinating and well worth reading. The review is interesting because it
demonstrates professional scientists' "take" on the book. The reviewer, who
evidently has not read any of Nabokov's fiction, says he now feels moved to
do so. It's also worth noting that among the cross-links provided was one
to the Zembla website. That's perhaps a first for HMSBeagle.
Nabokov's Blues
The Scientific Odyssey of a Literary Genius
[review] [excerpt] [endlinks] [purchase]
by Kurt Johnson and Steve Coates
Reviewed by Jonathan D. Beard
[see notes on J. D. Beard, below]
Zoland Books, 1999
Posted March 3, 2000 · Issue 73
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----
Review
In 1945, Vladimir Nabokov published an article on butterflies - "Notes on
Neotropical Plebejinae" - in Pysche, a scholarly journal for lepidopterists.
Although the author was a curator at Harvard's Museum of Comparative
Zoology, almost no one noticed or read the article, for Nabokov was not yet
famous, and his subject, the classification of an obscure group of South
American butterflies known as "Blues," was not a hot topic. In addition, the
author's prose style was dense and impenetrable even by the standards of
taxonomy papers. So "Notes" gathered dust on library shelves for 40 years.
A book based on Nabokov's 1945 scholarly article.
One copy of "Notes" yellowed quietly at the American Museum of Natural
History in New York, where Kurt Johnson, one of the authors of Nabokov's
Blues, was working as a research associate in 1985. In the mid-1980s,
Johnson had visited Las Abejas, an isolated bit of forest in the Dominican
Republic, and brought back some Blues. When these specimens did not seem to
fit into the genus and species descriptions in the standard reference books,
Johnson remembered, from graduate school, that Nabokov had written about
these butterflies. A few minutes later he was in Room 82, where generations
of curators of lepidoptery had stacked reprints, and he soon had his hands
on "Notes." Nabokov's Blues is the story, running backward and forward in
time, and extending from Siberia to Tierra del Fuego, of this paper, its
author, his works, and the field of lepidoptery.
This is a great deal of territory, literally and figuratively, for one
340-page book to cover, and Johnson and Coates have divided it into several
sections that do not hang together perfectly. Some parts are successful: the
descriptions of the trials and triumphs of fieldwork in Latin America over
the last 15 years are exciting and colorful. As they seek out Nabokov's
Blues, a handful of collectors venture onto isolated Andean plateaus in
Peru, dismal wet grasslands in southern Chile, and into mining company
preserves in Santo Domingo. In Argentina they make a detour to help
paleontologists dig up bones of a long-extinct sloth before heading onward.
In both the Dominican Republic and Chile, they note the disappearance of
habitats and the species they sheltered, sometimes as they watch.
He got rich writing, and still collected butterflies.
The passages devoted to Nabokov also work surprisingly well, considering
that neither author knew much about the writer when they began the book.
There is a short biography, beginning with Nabokov's childhood as part of a
fabulously wealthy family (ruined by the revolution), who owned a country
estate where young Vladimir caught and mounted butterflies. This section
concentrates on his lepidopterist side, and while his novels and stories are
mentioned, there is no attempt to delve deeply into his literary career. The
biography ends with Nabokov's death, the result of a fall suffered while
collecting in the Alps, near Davos, Switzerland.
Ironically, it is the parts of the book about lepidoptery and Nabokov's
stature as a scientist that fall short. Since these are Kurt Johnson's own
fields of expertise, a reader might expect the sections on taxonomy; on the
"sociology of science," as the authors call it; and on the value of
Nabokov's contributions to lepidoptery to be the strongest parts of the
book. But Johnson is much too close to the issues here, and the sound of
axes being ground is often deafening.
Nabokov and Johnson are both taxonomists.
Johnson, like Nabokov, is primarily interested in taxonomy, the
categorization of organisms into species, genera, and larger groups. In
previous centuries, when biologists' tools were fewer, taxonomy enjoyed
preeminence, and careers were made identifying and naming the thousands of
plants and animals brought back by explorers and fossil hunters.
Now most biologists work with molecules, not organisms, and the big
reputations are made by synthesists dealing with big issues, such as
Darwinism. Nabokov, who did not have a Ph.D. in biology - or anything else -
was aware of what other scientists were saying and writing, but limited
himself to dissecting butterflies and assigning names during his brief
tenure at Harvard. Johnson's complaints about the changed priorities of
biology and museums lend a sour tone to many pages.
Nabokov abandoned science for literature in 1948.
Nabokov abandoned his career as a lab scientist in 1948, when Cornell
University offered him a job teaching European and Russian literature.
Although he continued to collect during every free moment, he gave up
dissecting and turned his attention to writing and teaching. In 1958, he
published Lolita, the wildly misunderstood and immensely successful novel
that made him a celebrity, and rich. He resigned from Cornell and moved to
Europe to write - and of course collect butterflies when possible. Even
after his death in 1977, he continued to be the subject of books and
articles.
One such article, which seems to be Johnson's bete noire, was by Philip
Zaleski, and ran in Harvard magazine in 1986. Zaleski drew Freudian
parallels between Nabokov's dissection of butterfly genitals (the standard
means of determining species) and his interest in human sexuality; he noted
the fact that "insect" is an anagram for "incest" (a subject in a Nabokov
novel), and included a quote from a Harvard professor emeritus noting that
"It's an Old World tradition, particularly in the wealthy families, to
become naturalists at the amateur level."
There's nothing funny about butterfly genitalia.
Odd as it seems, much of Nabokov's Blues is really a reply to these libels.
There is nothing funny about butterfly genitalia, the book seems to
admonish, for that is how classification is done. The argument adds that
Nabokov did not like psychology and hated Freudian interpretations. Nabokov
was not a mere butterfly collector, he was serious in his work, he got the
Blues's classification right, and those professors should not have sneered
at him; this is a repeated theme.
But why do Johnson and Coates protest so? First of all, Nabokov died rich
and famous, rare for serious writers and unknown for lepidopterists. Second,
the entire story told in Nabokov's Blues demonstrates that Nabokov was
astonishingly correct in his guesses about how the tropical Blues were
divided. Working from only the museum specimens available in New York and
Boston - Nabokov never set foot in Latin America and could not consult
European collections because of the war - he combined careful examination
with good luck and worked out which species belonged to which genus. The
fieldwork Johnson describes so well largely confirms this outline.
Despite its flaws, it's worth reading.
But Nabokov's Blues is well worth reading in spite of these weaknesses. It
is gracefully written, packed full of information about butterflies and
Latin America, and even has enough about Nabokov's books to temp this
reviewer to read one.
Jonathan D. Beard has been a journalist since 1981, when he left his job as
a librarian at Columbia University.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----
Excerpt
The Neotropical Blues not only represent a vast and intriguing biological
homeland but potentially hold the key to answers to some of the most
sweeping questions about the region's biological history. And unlike an
overwhelming majority of Earth's creatures, they are connected with the name
of a world celebrity, Vladimir Nabokov. That Nabokov's Latin American Blues
went unstudied for so long is in part a strong reflection on the inactivity
in basic biological science since 1945.
[There were then a number of addenda, cross-links and other web-related
materials provided] including a link to Zembla.