[EDNOTE. This message should replace the one just sent by Stan Kelly-Bootle. -- SES]
Matt: I suspect from your subjunctive (‘if I were ...’) that we both feel in our bones that pulling out arbitrary strings of text and juggling their letters is unlikely to contribute to serious literary analysis? Nabokov indulges in many forms of word play (puns, mis-illusions-allusions, rhyming-slang, acrostics, spoonerisms, anagrams) but they are served with donnish knowing winks, nudges (and even the occasional embarrassing smirk) aimed at his prefered target audience. But, this audience of creative re-readers really disserve the Master if they overly dwell on these amusing but insignificant and short-lived tics and tricks. Future generations will be as puzzled as we are today by Shakespeare’s dated verbal jokes! What is that FOOL saying? We still need the odd gloss to guide us through the allusions, puns and shifting lexis, whether 14th or 20th century, but humour of the lasting, universal variety shines through the invented narrative: characters and situations. The point being that Nabokov’s genius, like the Bard’s, runs unfathomable fathoms deeper than transient word play.
With respect to the sport of anagram hunting, there is a huge difference between VN’s own pointed, obvious, witty permutations (e.g., Vivian Darkbloom) and simply playing around with arbitrarily selected sequences until something ‘significant’ appears. Asking if such outcomes are mere chance or were purposely embedded by VN is, in my non-humble opinion, unanswerable, absent some clear contextual evidence or an as-yet-undiscovered note by VN himself. The reason is simply that we only get to hear of the anagrams that DO produce something of apparent relevance (and that often stretched to support the juggler’s interpretational agenda.)
In passing, I could mention that your anagram depends on spelling ‘looney’ as ‘loony,’ and why not? It’s all part of the anagramatic game! Others are much more rash, borrowing and dropping letters (and apostrophes) until the right phrase emerges. Available software eases the pain:
http://www.anagramgenius.com/ag.htmlWhich program converted (in 10 microseconds) Vladimir Nabokov to VIVID AMORAL KNOB. Say it ain’t so!
I have coined the acronym HECUBA* to mock some of these gematrian/pseudo-encrypted ploys applied to Shakespeare’s works: HiddEn Clues Upholding Baconian Authorship. (Note the sneaky, spuriou upper-case E!)
* The Devil’s DP Dictionary, SK-B, McGraw-Hill, 1981, entry at MUSE (Most Unusual Shakespearean Engine), p.87
Stan Kelly-Bootle.
On 11/06/2010 23:47, "NABOKV-L" <NABOKV-L@HOLYCROSS.EDU> wrote:
In the spring 2010 Nabokovian, Alex Roy points out that according to the Index to PF, Gradus should appear in the note to line 12; however, he is not explicitly mentioned there. Roy finds him in an anagram of Angus MacDiarmid, which he refigures as "Gradus, ici madman" (ici = institute for the criminally insane, Jack G's last address). Anagram-hunting is not my sport (it's hard to tell the difference between chance and intent) but were I to play that game, I would point out another anagram directly following the MacDiarmid one. Paired with our man Angus is "Southey's Lingo-Grande," which, anagramized, comes out as "see Gradus, loony thing." Or, if you prefer a more index-like entry, "Gradus, see loony thing." So, does this double incidence confirm intention, or does it make the opposite point--that anagrams occur by chance all the time, so we should be wary of assigning intent?