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Shade's Double Bard? (fwd)
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Date
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From: Jeffrey Alexander
jeffrey@franklin.com
I recently read Pale Fire for the first time as the Shade/Kinbote
debate was taking place on the list, and I'd like to say that being
part of a discussion among so many Nabokov scholars and fans really
enriched my reading of this beautiful, funny, puzzling book.
In the course of the discussion several people speculated about
what the meaning of the title could be in the context of the poem alone.
As I was searching on the internet for further commentary on PF, I
came across the following review by Nicholas Laughlin, which identifies
another source (besides Shakespeare) for the poem's title (as Kinbote
might say, see below, see below right now!) For me, this was a
revelation: it made immediate sense as a gorgeous tribute to Sybil,
and as a hilarious, classic Nabokovian deception. I'd like to know
what members of the list think. Has this already been suggested and
discussed in previous criticism of which I am unaware? Is this an
accidental reference, or an allusion carefully hidden in the shadow
of another allusion?
Mr. Laughlin and his colleague Mary Adam, who is mentioned in the
review as the "M.A." who came across the reference, run Folio Books, Ltd.,
an internet bookstore and book review site. The review can be found
at the following address:
http://www.wow.net/community/folio/Pale_Fire.html
Copyright Folio Books Ltd 1997
=====================================================================
Folio Books
------------------------------------------------------------------------
| Home | Bookshelf | Children's Books | Subjects | Authors | Titles | Alcove
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pale Fire
by Vladimir Nabokov
Vintage, 315 pp.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
There is a small but disproportionately delightful literary sub-genre
consisting of fictional works of scholarship. To this category belong many
of Jorge Luis Borges's stories, possibly A.S. Byatt's Possession, and
certainly Vladimir Nabokov's tour de force Pale Fire.
Pale Fire is the name of a 999-line poem in four cantos by the distinguished
American poet John Shade, published posthumously in a lovingly prepared
edition with a foreword and detailed commentary by the Zemblan literary
scholar Charles Kinbote. Pale Fire is also the name of the novel by Nabokov
in which the poem is written by Shade and annotated by Kinbote, who are
Nabokov's creations. The novel is actually written in the form of poem and
scholarly apparatus, not omitting a thorough index. It is a perfect and
perfectly original union of form and meaning. It is also terribly funny.
The poem itself is a complicated, beautiful, mysterious achievement. It
reveals the character of John Shade so completely and movingly that I had to
keep reminding myself it was actually written by Nabokov himself. The poem
is the heart of the novel, literally and figuratively, but I suspect it
could stand on its own removed from the rest of the text. Pale Fire is
Shade's final work; possibly his greatest work. It is the product of every
thought and experience in a long, thoughful life, and it also contains that
entire life: childhood, adolescence, marriage, fatherhood, age and death.
The title refers to the 'pale fire of time,' and is taken from a poem by
Yeats ('A Poet to His Beloved') -- not, as Kinbote confidently suggests,
from Shakespeare. (But see note below.)
And Kinbote is frequently wrong in his confident suggestions in the
commentary. He identifies allusions where none exist; fails to recognise
those that are actually there (he is writing his notes in a remote cabin in
the Rockies and complains that he has no books to check his references), and
suggests interpretations which are clearly, hilariously, wrong. For the
hapless Dr Kinbote has got it into his head that Pale Fire (the poem) is
really about himself, and his commentary is an audacious attempt to
demonstrate this.
So, almost ignoring what is actually present in the poem, he proceeds
through the commentary to give a detailed history of his life and times,
often revealing far more than he really means to. And it turns out to be
quite a good story, because Kinbote, a native of the remote northern
European country of Zembla, has had quite an adventurous past. It is only a
pity that it is quite irrelevant to Shade's poem. And Kinbote doesn't do
anything by halves; even the most innocuous phrase of the poem is
'demonstrated' to be a cryptic reference to some event of Kinbote's life. It
is great fun.
But Pale Fire is not merely amusing and inventive. (Could Nabokov write a
novel that was merely amusing and inventive?) Kinbote's commentary seems to
be everything literary criticism should not be; but it is actually only an
extreme, exaggerated version of what literary criticism truly is. Kinbote
attempts to rewrite Shade's poem in his own image and likeness, but this is
true to a greater or lesser extent -- or a more or less subtle extent -- of
every critic. This includes not only professional critics like Kinbote, but
ordinary readers like you and me. It is implied in the very act of criticism
and interpretation -- in the very act of reading. And even as I write this I
cannot deny that my own reading of this novel is the product of all of my
personal experiences with literature.
Pale Fire is thus a complex, and ultimately rather touching, demonstration
of the way people have of reading their lives into books and reading books
into their lives, like Kinbote. (And also, the way we have of writing our
lives into books and writing books into our lives, like Shade.) It is an
affirmation of the power of literature, of the power of books to help us
make sense of our lives, and of the impossibility of distinguishing
precisely between life and art. To quote John Shade:
I feel I understand
Existence, or at least a minute part
Of my existence, only through my art,
In terms of combinational delight;
And if my private universe scans right,
So does the verse of galaxies divine
Which I suspect is an iambic line.
Pale Fire, 970-976.
Before you dismiss me, reader, I ask that you recall that particular novel
or poem or play read in childhood or adolescence or even middle or old age,
which seemed to have been written for no one but you, which you took so
personally, which changed the way you thought about your life, or about life
generally, which even now you cannot hope to discuss with impartiality or
even think of without growing deeply emotional -- deeply happy, deeply sad,
deeply angry. Every passionate reader knows such a book, or several such
books. And spare a sympathetic thought for poor Dr Kinbote even as you
chuckle at his blissfully-made mistakes.
N.L., 15 December, 1997 , modified 31 January, 1998
Note: Speaking of confident suggestions . . . I have fallen into Nabokov's
trap! By luck M.A. stumbled upon the line from Yeats (my favourite poet),
and I had so little faith in Kinbote that I assumed his reference to
Shakespeare was wrong. I didn't follow the clues and check Timon of Athens,
which Kinbote alludes to more than once. Well, now I have, following an
interesting e-mail from a reader -- and there it is, act 4, scene 3, lines
438-440.
So the joke's on me, perhaps. Did Nabokov himself know the poem by Yeats? Is
the reference deliberate or accidental? I'm not sure now. Even if it is
sheer coincidence, though, I think it does throw much light on the poem, on
the book, and even on the hazardous process of literary criticism which
Nabokov is making fun of -- and at the same time forcing us to get involved
in.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Order from Amazon, US$12.00
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Zembla , a website devoted to Nabokov
------------------------------------------------------------------------
| Home | Bookshelf | Children's Books | Subjects | Authors | Titles | Alcove
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Comments and queries to folio@wow.net
This website: http://www.wow.net/community/folio/
------------------------------------------------------------------------
This site has been visited [counter] times since July 28th 1997
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright ) Folio Books Ltd 1997
======================================================================
Jeffrey Alexander
Associate Editor
Franklin Electronic Publishers
jeffrey@franklin.com
Home address:
PO Box 2375
Philadelphia, PA 19103, USA
======================================================================
jeffrey@franklin.com
I recently read Pale Fire for the first time as the Shade/Kinbote
debate was taking place on the list, and I'd like to say that being
part of a discussion among so many Nabokov scholars and fans really
enriched my reading of this beautiful, funny, puzzling book.
In the course of the discussion several people speculated about
what the meaning of the title could be in the context of the poem alone.
As I was searching on the internet for further commentary on PF, I
came across the following review by Nicholas Laughlin, which identifies
another source (besides Shakespeare) for the poem's title (as Kinbote
might say, see below, see below right now!) For me, this was a
revelation: it made immediate sense as a gorgeous tribute to Sybil,
and as a hilarious, classic Nabokovian deception. I'd like to know
what members of the list think. Has this already been suggested and
discussed in previous criticism of which I am unaware? Is this an
accidental reference, or an allusion carefully hidden in the shadow
of another allusion?
Mr. Laughlin and his colleague Mary Adam, who is mentioned in the
review as the "M.A." who came across the reference, run Folio Books, Ltd.,
an internet bookstore and book review site. The review can be found
at the following address:
http://www.wow.net/community/folio/Pale_Fire.html
Copyright Folio Books Ltd 1997
=====================================================================
Folio Books
------------------------------------------------------------------------
| Home | Bookshelf | Children's Books | Subjects | Authors | Titles | Alcove
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pale Fire
by Vladimir Nabokov
Vintage, 315 pp.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
There is a small but disproportionately delightful literary sub-genre
consisting of fictional works of scholarship. To this category belong many
of Jorge Luis Borges's stories, possibly A.S. Byatt's Possession, and
certainly Vladimir Nabokov's tour de force Pale Fire.
Pale Fire is the name of a 999-line poem in four cantos by the distinguished
American poet John Shade, published posthumously in a lovingly prepared
edition with a foreword and detailed commentary by the Zemblan literary
scholar Charles Kinbote. Pale Fire is also the name of the novel by Nabokov
in which the poem is written by Shade and annotated by Kinbote, who are
Nabokov's creations. The novel is actually written in the form of poem and
scholarly apparatus, not omitting a thorough index. It is a perfect and
perfectly original union of form and meaning. It is also terribly funny.
The poem itself is a complicated, beautiful, mysterious achievement. It
reveals the character of John Shade so completely and movingly that I had to
keep reminding myself it was actually written by Nabokov himself. The poem
is the heart of the novel, literally and figuratively, but I suspect it
could stand on its own removed from the rest of the text. Pale Fire is
Shade's final work; possibly his greatest work. It is the product of every
thought and experience in a long, thoughful life, and it also contains that
entire life: childhood, adolescence, marriage, fatherhood, age and death.
The title refers to the 'pale fire of time,' and is taken from a poem by
Yeats ('A Poet to His Beloved') -- not, as Kinbote confidently suggests,
from Shakespeare. (But see note below.)
And Kinbote is frequently wrong in his confident suggestions in the
commentary. He identifies allusions where none exist; fails to recognise
those that are actually there (he is writing his notes in a remote cabin in
the Rockies and complains that he has no books to check his references), and
suggests interpretations which are clearly, hilariously, wrong. For the
hapless Dr Kinbote has got it into his head that Pale Fire (the poem) is
really about himself, and his commentary is an audacious attempt to
demonstrate this.
So, almost ignoring what is actually present in the poem, he proceeds
through the commentary to give a detailed history of his life and times,
often revealing far more than he really means to. And it turns out to be
quite a good story, because Kinbote, a native of the remote northern
European country of Zembla, has had quite an adventurous past. It is only a
pity that it is quite irrelevant to Shade's poem. And Kinbote doesn't do
anything by halves; even the most innocuous phrase of the poem is
'demonstrated' to be a cryptic reference to some event of Kinbote's life. It
is great fun.
But Pale Fire is not merely amusing and inventive. (Could Nabokov write a
novel that was merely amusing and inventive?) Kinbote's commentary seems to
be everything literary criticism should not be; but it is actually only an
extreme, exaggerated version of what literary criticism truly is. Kinbote
attempts to rewrite Shade's poem in his own image and likeness, but this is
true to a greater or lesser extent -- or a more or less subtle extent -- of
every critic. This includes not only professional critics like Kinbote, but
ordinary readers like you and me. It is implied in the very act of criticism
and interpretation -- in the very act of reading. And even as I write this I
cannot deny that my own reading of this novel is the product of all of my
personal experiences with literature.
Pale Fire is thus a complex, and ultimately rather touching, demonstration
of the way people have of reading their lives into books and reading books
into their lives, like Kinbote. (And also, the way we have of writing our
lives into books and writing books into our lives, like Shade.) It is an
affirmation of the power of literature, of the power of books to help us
make sense of our lives, and of the impossibility of distinguishing
precisely between life and art. To quote John Shade:
I feel I understand
Existence, or at least a minute part
Of my existence, only through my art,
In terms of combinational delight;
And if my private universe scans right,
So does the verse of galaxies divine
Which I suspect is an iambic line.
Pale Fire, 970-976.
Before you dismiss me, reader, I ask that you recall that particular novel
or poem or play read in childhood or adolescence or even middle or old age,
which seemed to have been written for no one but you, which you took so
personally, which changed the way you thought about your life, or about life
generally, which even now you cannot hope to discuss with impartiality or
even think of without growing deeply emotional -- deeply happy, deeply sad,
deeply angry. Every passionate reader knows such a book, or several such
books. And spare a sympathetic thought for poor Dr Kinbote even as you
chuckle at his blissfully-made mistakes.
N.L., 15 December, 1997 , modified 31 January, 1998
Note: Speaking of confident suggestions . . . I have fallen into Nabokov's
trap! By luck M.A. stumbled upon the line from Yeats (my favourite poet),
and I had so little faith in Kinbote that I assumed his reference to
Shakespeare was wrong. I didn't follow the clues and check Timon of Athens,
which Kinbote alludes to more than once. Well, now I have, following an
interesting e-mail from a reader -- and there it is, act 4, scene 3, lines
438-440.
So the joke's on me, perhaps. Did Nabokov himself know the poem by Yeats? Is
the reference deliberate or accidental? I'm not sure now. Even if it is
sheer coincidence, though, I think it does throw much light on the poem, on
the book, and even on the hazardous process of literary criticism which
Nabokov is making fun of -- and at the same time forcing us to get involved
in.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Order from Amazon, US$12.00
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Zembla , a website devoted to Nabokov
------------------------------------------------------------------------
| Home | Bookshelf | Children's Books | Subjects | Authors | Titles | Alcove
|
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Comments and queries to folio@wow.net
This website: http://www.wow.net/community/folio/
------------------------------------------------------------------------
This site has been visited [counter] times since July 28th 1997
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright ) Folio Books Ltd 1997
======================================================================
Jeffrey Alexander
Associate Editor
Franklin Electronic Publishers
jeffrey@franklin.com
Home address:
PO Box 2375
Philadelphia, PA 19103, USA
======================================================================