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by Vladimir Nabokov

  • ISBN: 0297994166
  • Category: Fiction
  • Author: Vladimir Nabokov
  • Subcategory: Literary
  • Other formats: mbr azw txt lrf
  • Publisher: Weidenfeld & Nicholson; First edition (1972)
  • Pages: 224 pages
  • FB2 size: 1618 kb
  • EPUB size: 1589 kb
  • Rating: 4.7
  • Votes: 141
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BOOKS BY Vladimir Nabokov NOVELS Mary King, Queen, Knave The Luzhin Defense The Eye Glory . Published in the United States by Vintage Books, a division of Random House, In. New York, and distributed in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.

BOOKS BY Vladimir Nabokov NOVELS Mary King, Queen, Knave The Luzhin Defense The Eye Glory Laughter in the Dark Despair Invitation to a Beheading The Gift. Originally published in hardcover by McGraw-Hill International, In. New York, in 1971. Nabokov, Vladimir Vladimirovich, 1899–1977. Glory, Vladimir Nabokov; translated from the Russian by.

Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov (Russian: Влади́мир Влади́мирович Набо́ков (listen); 22 April 1899 – 2 July 1977), also known by the pen name Vladimir Sirin (Russian: Влади́мир Си́рин), was a R. .

Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov (Russian: Влади́мир Влади́мирович Набо́ков (listen); 22 April 1899 – 2 July 1977), also known by the pen name Vladimir Sirin (Russian: Влади́мир Си́рин), was a Russian and American novelist, poet, translator and entomologist. His first nine novels were written in Russian (1926–38), but he achieved international prominence after he began writing English prose. Nabokov became an American citizen in 1945.

I had never heard of this novel by Nabokov before I saw it in a used book pile. The author tells us in a foreword that this was one of his nine Russian novels, his fifth written in Russian (1932). The Russian title was Podvig, which means roughly gallant feat or high deed. It’. story of a rarity – a person whose ‘dreams come true relief from the itch of being!

Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov was born on April 23, 1899, in St. Petersburg, Russia.

Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov was born on April 23, 1899, in St. The Nabokovs were known for their high culture and commitment to public service, and the elder Nabokov was an outspoken opponent of antisemitism and one of the leaders of the opposition party, the Kadets. In 1919, following the Bolshevik revolution, he took his family into exile. Four years later he was shot and killed at a political rally in Berlin while trying to shield the speaker from right-wing assassins.

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brings the reader closer to his magic. Those who know Nabokov the novelist and have forgotten that Nabokov the story writer exists now have a precious gift in their hands. His English is an extraordinary instrument, at once infinitely delicate and muscularly robust: no other writer of our time, not even Joyce, can catch the shifting play of the world’s light and shade as he does.

Vladimir Nabokov (1899-1977), born in St Petersburg, exiled in Cambridge, Berlin, and Paris, became the greatest Russian writer of the first half of the twentieth century. Fleeing to the US with his family in 1940, he then became the greatest writer in English of the second half of the century, and even 'God's own novelist' (William Deresiewicz).

Книга: Nabokov Vladimir Glory.

Vladimir Nabokov Biography - The Russian born Vladimir Nabokov was one of the most ingenious authors of the 20th century who is known for his originality and accomplishment as a.

Vladimir Nabokov Biography - The Russian born Vladimir Nabokov was one of the most ingenious authors of the 20th century who is known for his originality and accomplishment as . The Russian born Vladimir Nabokov was one of the most ingenious authors of the 20th century who is known for his originality and accomplishment as a writer. An experimental novelist, Nabokov often played with various forms of novel composition. His works carry a unique element of intrigue and humor with literary allusions, deceiving word games and bizarre incidents.

Almost at once the Frenchman began to snore. Yes, he did believe I was English. after that-- He began to follow a forest path, the path unwound, kept unwinding, but sleep did not come to meet him. Martin opened his eyes. Good idea to lower the window. A mild night flooded his face and straining his eyes Martin leaned out, but invisible dust flew into his eyes, speed blinded him; he drew back his head. A cough resounded in the darkened compartment.

Glory, published in 1932 as PODVIG in Russian, suffered from retitling as The Exploit, until this American translation, a novel by a Russian novelist unlike those they made us read in school! The book and jacket rate very good+, NOT priceclipped, NEVER a library book, , tight, clean and fresh inside and out.
Reviews about Glory (7):
Authis
This is essential Nabokov. If this weren't one of his earlier works, I'd say that the master has done it again. Still, all the brazen overtness in prose has been polished away since Mary and The Defense. All the little prose games that make Nabokov a joy to read (relegating plot, sometimes even character to the background) is already well in place, though perhaps because it is in translation, the prose does not sparkle as it does in his English works.
A word about the plot, it is very interesting when read against Kerouac's Vanity of Duluoz, both stories about drifterdom after college. Of course, the ending is inconclusive, but how? That's left as a surprise.
Beabandis
great book
Gri
Great buy.
Armin
I had never heard of this novel by Nabokov before I saw it in a used book pile. The author tells us in a foreword that this was one of his nine Russian novels, his fifth written in Russian (1932). The Russian title was Podvig, which means roughly “gallant feat or high deed.” It’s “…a story of a rarity – a person whose ‘dreams come true.’ ” But who needs “...relief from the itch of being!”

In this quasi-autobiographical novel, a young man’s family circumstances are such that he’s been a world traveler since he was born. He comes of age in St. Petersburg and Yalta. He visits Constantinople and travels by ship from Athens to Marseilles. His family vacations in Biarritz. He lives in Switzerland and Berlin and then goes to school at Cambridge.

His upbringing is equally international. His doting mother reads to him in English rather than in Russian because she “…found Russian fairy tales clumsy, cruel, and squalid, Russian folksongs inane, and Russian riddles idiotic.”

His parents separate; then his father dies. He experiences puppy love, then his first serious sexual affair with an older married woman – pragmatism on both sides, rather than love. He eventually falls in love with a young woman who consistently refuses his hand in marriage but never quite turns him away.

Yet he’s a golden boy. Bright and athletic. He’s a star at tennis and soccer, although he finds he can’t leave his Russian ethnicity behind in England. At Cambridge he feels like a foreigner, hanging out with other Russians and feeling that he is is a “foreign star” on the team. The bulk of the story is set around 1923.

He loves to travel and he dreams of imaginary expeditions --- foreshadowing this story’s tragic ending.

It’s Nabokov, so we have great writing. Like Virginia Woolf, there are extensive passages of descriptions of nature. Some passages I liked:

“The crickets kept crepitating; from time to time there came a sweet whiff of burning juniper; and above the black alpestrine steppe, above the silken sea, the enormous, all-engulfing sky, dove-gray with stars, made one’s head spin…”

“Martin was one of those people for whom a good book before sleep is something to look forward to all day. Such a person, upon happening to recall, amidst routine occupations, that on his bedside table a book is waiting for him, in perfect safety, feels a surge of inexpressible happiness.”

“…he devoted every hour of rain to reading, and soon became familiar with that special smell, the smell of prison libraries, which emanated from Soviet literature.”

Good writing and a decent story, but, of course, not the polished Nabokov of later years.
Shezokha
Edelweiss? Noble White, the shy alpine flower that so quickly vanishes after spring. Are we readers to look for meaning in Nabokov's choice of the name Martin Edelweiss for his focal character? A good deal is said about the name early in the book, and we're reminded of it at crucial moments throughout. Just a few pages of Nabokov's so-carefully-crafted prose inclines this reader to suppose that nothing in "Glory" is merely incidental, that every detail is laden with pertinence. Whatever else one says about this novel, the first fact is that it's gloriously written. Every sentence snaps the reader's mind into focus. Every description is a poem in itself. Every characterization is a full dramatic portrait of individual flesh and blood.

Martin Edelweiss is a frivolous young man embedded among Russian emigres utterly trivialized by the Bolshevik Revolution, about which we hear only frivolous rumors and reports in ephemeral newsprint. The only position Martin's querulous society seems to take toward the momentous events in their homeland is to wish they hadn't happened, but make no mistake, this a novel about the Revolution, seen through a lens of irrelevance. This is also a novel about the meaning of being Russian, though Nabokov conveys his meaning through the subtlest indirection. There's no ambiguity whatsoever about the ending of the novel. The meaning is as clear as plasma and as ominous as a drum-roll to a prisoner awaiting execution, but I do not choose to pre-empt anyone's reading excitement by declaring the obvious.

At the same time, "Glory" is a coming-of-age novel, similar to other such novels about young men going off to college. Scott Fitzgerald's "This Side of Paradise" and E.M. Forster's "The Longest Journey" might offer interesting comparisons. In all three, a sensitive young man confronts the tawdriness of the intellectual life, slips into depression over his own mediocrity, falls hopelessly in love with a disdainful beauty while at the same time exploring lust with more accessible lasses, and wrestles with the identity of a seemingly more well-prepared friend. Martin, however, isn't a titan waiting to be awakened to his own worth at the end of the novel. Nabokov takes pain to show us that Martin is NOT a poet, not a budding genius of any sort, just a modestly intelligent everyman of no particular bent. In fact, Martin's only talent seems to be at tennis. Like a young George Orwell, Martin stumbles into a brief romance with the simple life of honest toil, dwelling incognito for a 'chapter' in a wine-growing village in southern France. But, like most of Martin's experiences, this pastoral interlude sinks quickly into the chasm of memory. Above all, this is a novel about memory. It begins with Martin's memories of childhood. Martin's perceptions are all foreshadowed, and his actions are all predetermined, by his memories. Even the passing moment is no more than a memory.

Martin doesn't tell his story in the first person. Nabokov clings to Martin's shoulder like a personal daemon, or to be blunt, like a 19th C omniscient narrator. When suddenly, in the last chapter, the novelist shifts his perch to another shoulder, it's both a brilliant literary trick and a lucid statement of Martin's fate.

"Glory" is a translation from Russian of an early novel by a writer who went on to create far more famous books in English. Perhaps that explains why it's less widely read than the Forster or Fitzgerald novels mentioned above. It's the best book of the three by far, and proves beyond a doubt that Nabokov could write traditional narrative as brilliantly as the more idiosyncratic interior surrealism for which he is famous.
Cordantrius
I have read all of Nabokov--the letters, The Tragedy of Mr Morn, the lot. This isn't my favorite novel of his--not by a long chalk. But it is engrossing, and beautiful. Perhaps the most quasi-autobiographical (and you MUST read Speak, Memory, the autobiography, AND Brian Boyd's masterly two-vol bio), as Martin greatly resembles young V. and goes to Cambridge and is rather an aesthete (but without, unlike his creator, an artistic outlet). Poetic passages, with purple piping, abound. Not one of the great tomes--Pale Fire, Lolita, Despair, and the aforementioned Speak, Memory... but UP there for sure. Don't miss it. Esp. if you are about to visit the continent--or hankering for it!

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