Clayton Smith: I am preparing to host a book discussion on this topic and would be happy to share an index of the quotes I intend to use in support of Hazel's transformation and influence over the text.  I'm sure little would not be covered by what Boyd has already provided, however.

Jansy Mello: Brian Boyd mentions another ghostly influence. It’s the “Erlkönig” as we can read in Goethe’s poem, plus various translations which turn “Erlkönig” into “Elfking,” or as a Kinbote-like homosexual on the prowl to snatch young children away and into his haunted or enchanted kingdom. There’s Kinbote’s curious note (that forgets to mention Goethe’s “Wind-Kind.” ), his recitation of the lines while fleeing Zembla, the twigs rasping against the windowpane on the night Hazel drowns and this takes place long before Kinbote appears and turns over the lid of a metallic bin, while Shade is reading the poem to Sybil.

 If Nabokov conjured good ghosts, he also brought up those that are evil. Why not spend some time wondering about the interference of evil spirits in PF?    

 

I recently mentioned a falsifiable theory (namely, that Machado de Assis had Shakespeare’s lines in mind when he wrote “The Vicious Circle”). After all, there are no sea swells in it, but stars and fireflies. The only argument in favor of this line of borrowing is that Shakespeare also wrote about the pale fire of a glowworm (Hamlet). Other spirits to consider: Castor and Pollux ( related to “will of the wisp” or to “beaver” ) who are the patron saints for sailors (Cf. “The Nabokovian”, n.63, fall 2009,p.28)

 

I found a translation of Machado’s sonnet in the internet, by Frederic G William:

Vicious Circle

 

The firefly danced in the air impatiently:

"Oh how I wish that I could be that yellow,

That burns in the eternal blue, a candle far!"

And yet the star gazed on the moon with jealousy:

 

"If only I could copy such transparency,

Which, from the Grecian column to the Gothic sill,

Has contemplated lovers' faces sighingly!"

And yet the moon gazed on the sun with bitter will:

 

"Oh misery! If l could be that giant ball,

Immortal clarity, the sum of all that's light!"

The sun, though, leans his brilliant chaplet o´er the wall:

 

I´m burdened by this numen's aureole bright…

I’m wearied by this blue, unbounded parasol…

Why could I not be born a firefly at night?"