Chekhov’s Mistess

$6.98 here, $6.98 there and pretty soon your talking about real money.

I sometimes wonder if it’s not really buying books that I love more than reading or writing. Yesterday was a day off (from what, I don’t know) and I spent a good part of it scouring the shelves of a couple of my favorite bookstores, Labyrinth Books, which is located by Columbia University, and Mercer St. Books located next to New York University.

My Nabokov journey is looking like a never ending trip, because at Mercer I found cheap hardbacks of Boyd’s voluminous biography of V.N. at $8.95 each. One day my son will inherit this library, I tell myself in justification.

I also picked up a copy of n+1, the new lit journal everyone seems to be talking about, so I look forward to checking that out and perhaps making a comment or two.

At the end of my spree I sat in Washington Square Park for a bit, reading and enjoying the fact that we were having sunshine for the first time in what feels like an entire season.

A man walked up to me, pushing a clothes hanging cart with nothing on it and says, “Oh good, without you I’d be lost!”

I didn’t know him of course, so I looked up in this New York City way of trying to balance friendliness with indifference so as not to start a conversation. That was to no avail.

He sits down next to me and starts talking. I have my head in my book (Lolita), but am really looking at his legs which are scared up with unhealed, geometrically shaped cuts. He’s dressed normal enough, in shorts and a white shirt, but he has very wet lips and disheveled hair; it’s the look of permanent astonishment on his face that makes me wary though.

“…the arrest for indecent exposure, but there was no exposure because they couldn’t see…” He says in an insanely coherent manner.

Now I’m intrigued and I set aside my instinct to walk away. I’m looking up from my book occasionally, still trying to strike that balance and he says,

“I can see you are a literary type.”

Ah, perceptive fellow, maybe he’s seen my blog, I thought.

“My uncle has a bookstore in Long Island,” he says as if we are friends. “I can get you discounts on some good books.” And he names a few but he’s mumbling the titles. “I can get you some, but it’s impossible to get them to cut a check at the clinic.”

I decide it’s time to check out, my curiosity is not quite satisfied, but I’ve been in these situations before and they can become intractable if you let them go on too long.

I tell him it’s time for me to go, and I give him a gift certificate for McDonalds – I carry them around to give to some of the myriad homeless people I come across in NYC – telling him that he can get some food with it, only the gift certificate has a picture of French fries and he seems confused by that, asking if he can get fries with it. I tell him that he can get anything there (although it’s only $1), and wave to him as if to an old friend and keep walking.



“For the happy few.”

***

Mercer Street Books is at 206 Mercer at Bleeker (I think). It’s all used and they have a good selection of fiction, literary criticism, poetry, history, music, and literary journals. Very rarely can you find old literary journals, so that alone is worth a visit.

Labyrinth Books is on 112th street off Broadway. They support the smarties over at Columbia so they have a great literary section (massive fiction, poetry and criticism), as well as philosophy, religion and psychology. They have a sale annex and some of the items from there make it this location’s stairs with a lot of books priced from $4.98 to $6.98. I buy way too many of these.

For the wierdly curious, Labyrinth has on their website a lookup function where you can see what Columbia profs are requiring their students to read. For instance, if you wanted to know what Professor Golston is requiring for the summer class “American Poetry after WWII” you would find that he or she lists Olson’s Selected Writings and Ashbury’s The Tennis Court Oath along with nine others.

Read widely, think well, and write often.

comments

Boyd is an excellent biographer of Nabokov. I’ve read “The American Years”. It is rather long (as you no doubt know), but I think almost all of the pages are justified. Nothing felt extraneous. Boyd’s critiques of Nabokov’s works are insightful and well written and “The American Years” offered a satsifying glimpse at what Nabokov was probably like.

By the way. You’re probably going to start on Lolita and move on straight to Pale Fire. Please don’t miss out on The Defense, Invitation to a Beheading, and The Gift. Given that they are part of Nabokov’s emigré works, they tend to get ignored these days, but they are excellent. Save Ada for until you have gotten well acquainted with Nabokov—it is a long and difficult work.

    – Scott (07/30  at  07:25 PM)

Thanks Scott, it may be some time before I crack Boyd’s tomes, but it’s good to know that they are worth it, as I suspected. I thought they would be an interesting lens with which to see late czarist Russia as well as the expats view of Europe and America prior to WWII, besides of course, the literary aspect. Any particular reason you chose not to read “The Russian Years?”

The advice on “Ada” is well taken because I would have assumed that “The Gift” would be the last stop.

    – Chekhov's Mistress (08/01  at  06:58 PM)

The only reason for not reading “The Russian Years” is the tried and true “it’s on my shelf”. I’m sure I will read it one day, but for now so many other books beckon.

In my opinion, Ada and The Gift are the two least accessible Nabokovs. However, the structure of The Gift is infinitely more straightforward than that of Ada, and The Gift does not hemmorage references and allusions as Ada does (quite profusely). That is why I would save Ada for last. Of course, I would recommend Ada before such titles as Transparent Things, Look at the Harlequins!, Mary, Bend Sinister. They are Nabokov, yes, but they are lesser Nabokov.

Also, I would recommend The Real Life of Sebastian Knight. As Boyd will tell you, this gem went unnoticed when it was originally published in 1941. Although it appears that the book’s following has not grown significantly since, it is worth reading.

    – Scott (08/02  at  02:31 PM)

The premise of “The Real Life...” is interesting and it would probably be on my short list. I am also reading a bit of criticism on Lolita, (a casebook, with essays by Boyd and others). Any suggestion for other, particularly more general criticism? p.s. I am getting deeper into critical aspects of Lolita mostly because I view it as “gateway” of sorts into the world of Nabokov - I’ll talk about this in a later post. As before, thanks for the helpful comments.

- Bud Parr

    – Chekhov's Mistress (08/02  at  11:56 PM)

I haven’t been able to find too many critical works on Nabokov (I’m sure they are out there, I just haven’t looked hard enough).

As for online, you should by all means visit Zembla (if you haven’t already). It’s an extensive site for lovers of Nabokov hosted by Penn State University.

http://www.libraries.psu.edu/nabokov/forians.htm

You will find plenty of critical essays and information about Nabokov and his works there. It is definitely a good place to start.

    – Scott (08/03  at  01:24 PM)

If you can find it, I would highly recommend Nabokov’s short story “Cloud, Castle, Lake.” It may be the best thing he ever wrote.  I recommend it in particular as it is very Chekhovian.

    – M (08/09  at  03:58 PM)

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About this Post

• Posted by: Bud Parr
• Date: July 30, 2004
• Filed Under:
  Song of Myself: Diary

• Comments:6
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