by Alexey Filimonov

I learned yesterday the tragic news of our loss of Donald Barton Johnson. Don visited the Vladimir Nabokov Museum in St. Petersburg more than once.
It always seemed to me that Don Barton Johnson possessed a certain Nabokovian secret, which he strove to convey to Nabokovians and readers.
I am enclosing my poem dedicated to Don, written long ago, but now it seems to me to be addressed to his eternal soul.
 
                    Io*

by Maurice Couturier

by Zoran Kuzmanovich

by Brian Boyd

Lolita is in today's New York Times mentioned, en passant, more than once in an interview with Edmund White. You might find it enjoyable reading between articles on grimmer matters. It turns out Edmund White reads Anna Karenina every year and would invite "the three great gigglers" to dinner: Proust, Firbank and Chekhov.