Vladimir Nabokov: Glory

[Peder]

Here is a novel written in 1932, squarely in the center of Vladimir Nabokov's European years. The story is set during his younger college years, almost 10 years earlier, while almost another 10 years would still pass before he came to America. So, radically different from Lolita in many ways, there is also not a trace of America in it. Instead we have idyllic scenes of boating on the Cam, and pastoral scenes in the sunny and health-rejuvenating farmlands of southern France, and darker scenes of life in Berlin in the economically and politically distressed years shortly after WW I.

And just who is this Martin Edelweiss? He is "the kindest, uprightest and most touching of all my young men" according to the author. But can he be Nabokov himself? The author, well-known for his engaging sense of humor, will only say that he can be considered "a distant cousin of mine."

Come join us on this fascinating journey of an idealistic man's life, as he sorts out his feelings and finally experiences life to his fullest. As always, all are invited to join the discussion, whether you have read the book or not. Bring questions! Bring answers! Bring ideas! But, above all else, bring your own honest reactions to anything you have seen, heard or read. We'll discuss it all, as we perhaps try to sort out the reality of VN's life from the fictionality of his writing. It is always there, and it is always good reading.

As usual we'll discuss the book as we see it, honestly, openly and in detail, so please be forewarned

THIS THREAD CONTAINS OPEN DISCUSSION OF PLOT, SPOILERS AND ENDING.​

Y'all please come! Hear?!
Peder

 

[Breaca]

Ooh, I get to be second in line. The thrill of it all. As for your intro....

TOES


I'm almost there and definitely looking forward to hearing from all and sundry and getting 'stuck in'.

So come y'all join the foray

 

[Peder]

Hi, Breaca!
Thanks for breaking the ice! I like the feeling of a lived in forum.
Let's warm the place up,
Peder

 

[pontalba]

LOL Toes Indeed! Folks...hes done it again, marvelous intro Peder!

Its difficult to believe that Glory was written in/on a completely different continent, time frame and language than most of the English speaking among us have experienced. The tenor of the book is timeless and flows with Nabokov's usual verve and flair.

Ah...and Martin...Martin. In many ways he is so like Nabokov. Idealistic and adventureous. Lacking the artistry of Nabokov, but having the appreciation of an artist for the land he travels thru on his magic train. If only he could understand the people surrounding him as well as the land.

Everyone should follow the twinkling lights sometime in their lives.

 

[Peder]

Ah...and Martin...Martin. If only he could understand the people surrounding him as well as the land.

Everyone should follow the twinkling lights sometime in their lives.

Pontalba,
You melt me.
Peder

 

[pontalba]

That just may be the message of the entire book.

 

[StillILearn]

Okay, guys. Count me in too. Beautiful intro, Peder. You sure know how to do these things with flair.

I've been remiss (reading Miss Austen, that is) so here goes Still, right back on over into her reading chair with her copy of Glory.

Nice avatar, Breaca!

 

[Breaca]

Okay, guys. Count me in too. Beautiful intro, Peder. You sure know how to do these things with flair.

I've been remiss (reading Miss Austen, that is) so here goes Still, right back on over into her reading chair with her copy of Glory.

Nice avatar, Breaca!

Ah, it's a cozy little corner don't ya think, especially with the sun-setting a soft glow through the window. Time to switch readling lamp on.

And I'd say thanks in gaelic but I can't remember how - shame on me - so will 'merci' do?:D

 

[pontalba]

Okay, guys. Count me in too. Beautiful intro, Peder. You sure know how to do these things with flair.

I've been remiss (reading Miss Austen, that is) so here goes Still, right back on over into her reading chair with her copy of Glory.

Nice avatar, Breaca!

That Austen Woman again! LOL

Good ta see ya SIL! You can have the new chair there in the corner... Set a spell.

 

[steffee]

TOES!! ........

 

[Peder]

Time for a walk, be back in a bit
Hi SIL!
And say hello to Steffe if she turns up.
Have to stretch the legs.
Peder

 

[pontalba]

TOES!! ........

Yes indeedy, TOES it is!
Glad to see ya Steffee....

 

[steffee]

Well I couldn't not reply to a Nabokov thread.

 

[Peder]

Well I couldn't not reply to a Nabokov thread.

Well, I'm glad we see eye-to-eye on that!
Hi Steffee,
Good to see you!
Apparently I just missed you before,
Got any keen penetrating questions yet?
Like say "Can Martin and Darwin be doppelgangers?"
You know, like that,
Peder

 

[Peder]

It's been a full day.
I'm hitting the sack,
'Night all!
Peder

 

[pontalba]

VN speaks of Dimitri taking three years on and off to translate a first draft of Glory or Podvig. But I found the story of translating the novels very Name interesting. In all reality Glory is not a literal translation. it is a...well let me allow VN to say what it really is. p.xii-xiii of the Foreword:

"Fulfillment" would have been, perhaps, an even better title for the novel: Nabokov cannot be unaware that the obvious translation of podvig is "exploit", and , indeed, it is under that title that his Podvig is listed by bibliographers; but if you once perceive in "exploit" the verb "utilize," gone is the podvig, the inutile deed of renown. The author chose therefore the oblique "glory", which is a less literal but much richer rendering of the original title with all its natural associations branching in the bronze sun. It is the glory of high adventure and disinterested achievement; the glory of this earth and its patchy paradise; the glory of personal pluck; the glory of a radiant martyr.

Even if you didn't, I had to look up Inutile. Useless, unusable........./sigh/

 

[steffee]

Is Darwin Martin's doppelganger?

 

[pontalba]

Um....it hadn't occured to me at least. Although.....nah....huh?

 

[Peder]

Is Darwin Martin's doppelganger?

Steffee,
One wonders, doesn't one?
Peder

 

[Peder]

VN speaks of Dimitri taking three years on and off to translate a first draft of Glory or Podvig. But I found the story of translating the novels very Name interesting. In all reality Glory is not a literal translation. it is a...well let me allow VN to say what it really is. p.xii-xiii of the Foreword:...

Pontalba, all,
VN is sometimes enough to drive me bonkers!
There, in the quote you gave but which doesn't come across to here, we hear VN himself saying

Nabokov cannot be unaware that the obvious translation of podvig is "exploit."

Well I should hope not! But more to the point is to read further and in the text find a statement of straight-forward narratorial description like, say,

On the bright wall above the narrow crib, with its lateral meshes of white cord and the small icon at its head (lacquered saint's brown face framed in foil, crimson plush underside somewhat eaten by moths or by Martin himself) hung a watercolor depicting a dense forest with a winding path disappearing into its depths. Now in one of the English books his mother used to read to him...there was a story about just such a picture with a path into the woods.

The reason for going bonkers is simply that in the Introduction, where VN himself is undeniably writing in the first person, he refers to "Nabokov" in the third person, and a little later, in the story itself, where he has a third-person narrotor to do the telling, one cannot help but wonder if one is reading straightforward first-person narrative of his own childhood. He glides through pages like a Cheshire Cat, sometimes sitting there before us, and sometimes leaving behind what definitely feels like his own personal smile.

And, in passing, it might be noted that the English story he, er his narrator was talking about, is a tory about a picture of forest with a path winding into it, not a story about a forest with a path winding into it.
So, we might be forgiven for imagining that Nabokov the author is here having a narrator describe to us a real English story, from his, Nabokov's, actual childhood, about a picture of a forest with a winding path, here in a story which has a picture of a forest with a winding path, and where moreover (mark my words!) we will actually will have an actual forest with a winding path.

It is a good thing to have read Appel's Intorduction to Lolita, first, to have had the concept of "involution" expalined as it applies to VN's writing! And then, despite all technical literary wizardry, Glory reads easily along, simply like the sublimely charming childhood of a much-beloved child.

Where is the reality and where is the fiction? I'm almost inclined to say that the reality is there on the printed page in fron of us and the fiction is in our own mind if we think otherwise. What wondrous descriptions to read!
Peder