I think that ghosts and the memories of loved ones (amongst many other things) obviously have an affect on Dmitri Nabokov. Being raised by one of the greatest literary geniuses would probably affect anyone, but I couldn't help but hear Pale Fire and Transparent Things screaming in my little head as I read the intro to The Original of Laura by this man who has, probably, not been able to escape the ghosts of his mother and father since their separate demises. Here's the lines from the intro that made me come to this conclusion: "For my part, when the task passed to me, I did a great deal of thinking. [About publishing this book] I have said more than once that, to me, my parents, in a sense, had never died but lived on, looking over my shoulder in a kind of virtual limbo, available to offer a thought or councel to assist me with a vital decision, whether a crucial mot juste or a more mundane concern. I did not need to borrow my "ton bon" (thus deliberately garbeled) from the titles of fashionable morons but had it from the source. If it pleases an adventurous commentator to liken the case to mystical phenomina, so be it. I decided at this juncture that, in putative retrospect, Nabokov would not have wanted me to become his Person from Porlock or allow little Juanita Dark - for that was the name of an early Lolita, destined for cremation - to burn like a latter-day Jeanne d'Arc."
There's also a line in the intro that talks about how he fights the memory of the color of the beach that his father speaks of in "Speak, Memory", saying that he remembers the sand being a fine yellow, while Vladmir speaks of it in the novel as being white. I have a sinking notion that even Vladimir might have remembered it as yellow, but because he could created it as he thought it should, could, would be best for his readers. Perhaps...
In this one paragraph of his intro, Dmitri talks about some of the main works we read this semester, and I can only speculate, because these works haunt me and my every day life (they probably will until my last breath) that they must haunt him to unimaginable lengths, maybe even "running his life" to a certain Degre. ;)
And some sad eyes, we (my fiance and I) were able to make a composite sketch of what John Shade may have looked like. I am pleased to introduce to you, ladies and gentleman, Mr. John Shade, beloved husband, father, poet. (Feel free to also click on each picture to get a big version, full of plenty of detail...especially on the two pictures below.)
We also decided to take this shape we had developed here and make it into a caricature (just for a little fun).... realizing that there are a lot of details in the caricature that were passed up in the composite. Notice the devil horned butterfly putting a "be quiet" finger to his mouth in the top corner, or the tired, sad eyes.... maybe you'll notice his vicuna collar, the red bandana out his right rear pocket, grass stains on his khaki pants, or his little loafers. Check it out:
I also scanned it in Black and White, which gives a whole other feeling to the caricature.
Can someone answer me this question? Why do the artists and writers who judge such things think that Lolita is such a better book than Pale Fire? Is it because, essentially, the story of love, road trips, and tragedy within Lolita has a much higher value of some sort than the story of ghosts, love, and "reality" within Pale Fire?
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