''Vladimir Nabokov's Comic Quest for Reality' - Nottingham eTheses

''Vladimir Nabokov's Comic Quest for Reality' - Nottingham eTheses ''Vladimir Nabokov's Comic Quest for Reality' - Nottingham eTheses

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- 52 - consciousness returns to him. The idea he tries all along to impress on the reader is that he is not a live person any more: it is only his "thought", as he puts it, that "lives on by momentum" (29), and all he. experiences is no more than a "postexistent chimera" (31). If this is so, human thought must indeed be "a mighty thing" (29), for even after his supposed death it recreates to perfection all the things he knew in life, including a hollow tooth. It also furnishes his memory with the exact details of his (attempted) suicide. Looking back on it, he even seems to be aware of a streak of irony and absurd- ity in a situation that, after all, marked a serious crisis in his life: He has had specific and yet rather vague ideas of "how people went about shooting them- selves" (26). In his imagination this is a ceremony that should follow a certain established pattern. There are the "traditional letters" (26) to those whom one knows and loves, the tidying up of things, the clean linen one is supposed to put on, one's money to dispose of... But "I knew few people and loved no one" (26); so what is the use of writing letters? All he possesses in the way of money are twenty marks. Is this worth the trouble of putting it in an envelope and leaving it to someone? The tradition of suicide is rather too solemn and pompous for the "wretched, 4. shivering, vulgar little man" (26) he sees in the mirror. When his time has come, he is not up to executing all the moves that tradition requires. Instead, he makes a very unconventional and unceremonious exit (after

- 53 - tearing the banknote into little pieces and destroying his wrist-watch). The incidents after his suicide also smack of irony, and again he seems to be aware of it and slightly hurt. The dramatic circumstances which accompanied his last moment, that "delightful vibrating sound behind... me" after the shot, "the warble of water, a throaty gush- ing noise" (28), are explained away all too prosaical- ly: it was only the pitcher that his bullet hit and smashed. If he felt "unbelievably free" (27) during his last moments and convinced that nothing mattered any more, he finds that this was another mistake on his part. Everything matters, just as before. The world closes in on him again. Even as a ghost he has to be practical. His watch has to be repaired, he needs money, he needs a job. He is not free at all, but finds himself (or, in his opinion, his thought) engaged as always in "a sphere where everything is interconnected" (31), and in a world which, he feels, might have strongly objected had he given in to his lawless impulses (27) inspired by that exalted feeling of freedom. The worst ironic slight, of course, is that nobody but himself believes in his death. The only sympathetic comment comes from Weinstock: "You look awful", which he attributes to the "grippe" (32), and this must be rather disconcerting for someone who is convinced that 1. he is stone-dead and no more than a ghost. It is, to say the least, rather unusual to be talked to by a narrator of whom one is pretty sure that he is as alive as can be, but who seems to believe

-<br />

52<br />

-<br />

consciousness returns to him. The idea he tries all<br />

along to impress on the reader is that he is not a<br />

live person any more: it is only his "thought", as he<br />

puts it, that "lives on by momentum" (29), and all he.<br />

experiences is no more than a "postexistent chimera" (31).<br />

If this is so, human thought must indeed be "a mighty<br />

thing" (29), <strong>for</strong> even after his supposed death it<br />

recreates to perfection all the things he knew in life,<br />

including a hollow tooth.<br />

It also furnishes his memory with the exact details<br />

of his (attempted) suicide. Looking back on it, he<br />

even seems to be aware of a streak of irony and absurd-<br />

ity in a situation that, after all, marked a serious<br />

crisis in his life: He has had specific and yet rather<br />

vague ideas of "how people went about shooting them-<br />

selves" (26). In his imagination this is a ceremony<br />

that should follow a certain established pattern.<br />

There are the "traditional letters" (26) to those whom<br />

one knows and loves, the tidying up of things, the<br />

clean linen one is supposed to put on, one's money<br />

to dispose of... But "I knew few people and loved<br />

no one" (26); so what is the use of writing letters?<br />

All he possesses in the way of money are twenty marks.<br />

Is this worth the trouble of putting it in an envelope<br />

and leaving it to someone? The tradition of suicide<br />

is rather too solemn and pompous <strong>for</strong> the "wretched,<br />

4.<br />

shivering, vulgar little man" (26) he sees in the<br />

mirror. When his time has come, he is not up to executing<br />

all the moves that tradition requires. Instead, he makes<br />

a very unconventional and unceremonious exit (after

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