Nabokov v Dostoevski

Yee-ah, it’s on. In fact, it’s no longer on, it was on in one man’s mind and later on in his classrooms – but that was many years ago in a land far away.

Having just read Crime & Punishment I was keen to read what my all-time favourite author and one-time Russian Literature lecturer at Cornell, Vladimir Nabokov had to say about the book. Turns out he reckons it’s far from perfect and I couldn’t help but be pleased to agree.

Nabokov says he read the book about five times, which is something to be admired in itself, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t have an Xbox or live next to the beach. He brings it all down to one sentence – a book that took me two months to read collapses in one sentence. Regardless of the reason, I love the way Nabokov demands perfection and consistency in all art.

[An aside: That's kind of interesting in itself because I'm drawn a lot to imperfect art - particularly in music. I love musicians like Elliott Smith and Conor Oberst (Bright Eyes) for their lack of consistency and often very dodgy live performances. It means that their works of Pure Genius (Elliott Smith - highlights of Either/Or; Figure 8; XO; Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake It's Morning) are given valuable human context. I guess it's like extended lees contact during maturation with a Chardonnay - gives mouthfeel and complexity to what's already there.]

I think the standard of living in pre-revolutionary Russia depicted in the book is the goldmine. The existential issues surrounding murder, guilt and redemption aren’t delt with by any original / deft / insightful measures. But having been to St Petersburg I really loved reading about the streets and ting.

I’ve read all but two of Nabokov’s 20-something works and only one of Dostoevksi’s so I’d naturally side with my main man. I read his critique of Crime & Punishment in Lectures on Russian Literature and the glowing spark of admiration I keep in my mind for Nab was immediately bellowed into a dancing flame of admiration, envy and dreams of literary eloquence and metaphysical illumination.

The point is, I can spend two months chewing through a rewarding yet ultimately unexciting work like Crime & Punishment and walk away unchanged, then I can read a five page critique of said work and feel ashamed for not being the potential man I could be if I focused on literature (and its matters) rather than watching TV, drinking too much wine and playing GTA San Andreas.

Hmm. Might return to Dostoevski in a few years, but not right now. I’ve got Nabokov to re-read. Or maybe I’ll flick through his book on Russian lit and find the dudes he rates and go from there.

All time top five books

This one’s a little easier than the movie list, although it’s always in flux. Right now it’s

1. Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov

2. On The Road – Jack Kerouac

3. Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas – Hunter S Thompson

4. Naked Lunch – William S Burroughs

5. The Outsider – Albert Camus

Pete.

The minute, man.

Well, this is my first post on this flashy new blog put together by my buddy Benja, c/o some Frenchman wordpress template designer dude.

History suggests that the first entry in a monolith as epic as this site will no doubt become should be as sweeping in generality as it should be warm and welcoming in nature. Not so, dear reader. Instead you have a glimpse into this very minute at casaderogers:

Third, by Portishead has just started spinning in the CD player, completely unaware that it was preceeded by Wincing the Night Away by The Shins, which in turn was preceeded by Bedouin Soundclash’s Street Gospel, which of course only followed in the haunting footsteps of Cat Power’s The Covers Record. Are you still following? Tenses are confusing. To quote A. Trocchi:

“When I write I have trouble with my tenses. Where I was tomorrow is where I am today, where I would be yesterday.”

Amidst all this I am drinking one of the better experiences of my life: Domain Zind Humbrecht Heimbourg Gewurtztraminer 1998. It’s a sensational bastard glaring at me from the glass with 14.5% alcohol. Light straw in colour, aggressively aromatic with the classic nose of nougat, lychee, musk. Sneaky glimmers of rose petal come through. On the palate it’s a queer creature. Warm with clearly present alcohol (but not faulty), the classic fruity characters of the varietyhave clearly pulled back more than just a little (like an old man’s lips revealing a perfect row of chompers) revealing more and more bottle-age characters: bacon & smoke in particular. Very mango, a little spicy, racy, with the expected lychee and musk still lingering. This is great booze. You should all be drinking this wine right now. As I’ve lately begun to repeat to strangers like a mantra, life is too short: you could die tomorrow and have never known what good wine tastes like. I’ve only recently learned that not all very serious wine is red. In fact, it seems to me that the most exciting wine is white. If you need convincing, email me with a price-point and I’ll tell you which wine to buy.

In other of-this-moment thoughts, today I used up Cain’s Book and will now continue on with my assault on Bukowski’s body of work with Women. Can’t wait.

A-Ro is asleep in her bed and she is perfect.

Georgia is pottering about, waiting for me to pay her some attention. So that’s it.

Audi 5000.

peace.