Lance by Vladimir Nabokov **** (#49)
I will begin this review by saying that of the work of Nabokov’s which I have read in the past, I have not enjoyed it anywhere near as much as most people seem to. I had never encountered his short stories before picking up Lance. All of these ‘dazzling stories of obsession, mania and an extra-terrestrial nightmare feature all of the wit, dexterity and inventiveness that are the hallmarks of Nabokov’s genius’, and were published between 1931 and 1951. ‘The Aurelian’ was originally written in Russian, and appears in translation here by Peter Pertzov in collaboration with the author. The other two stories – ‘Signs and Symbols’ and ‘Lance’ – were first written in English.
The three tales collected here are all rather sad. ‘The Aurelian’ follows protagonist Paul Pilgram, who has taken over the running of his parents’ shop in Berlin. Of Pilgram, Nabokov writes: ‘… as a boy he already feverishly swapped specimens with collectors, and after his parents died butterflies reigned supreme in the dim little shop.’ He is an entomologist, who knows so much about species all around the world, but has never travelled farther than Berlin’s suburbs. His wish is to see butterflies living in their natural habitat. I will say no more lest I give any of the story away, but suffice to say, I very much enjoyed reading it. It is the first time in which I have ever felt fully engaged with Nabokov’s work.
The second haunting story, ‘Signs and Symbols’, takes as its focus a suicidal young man living in a sanatorium, and the effects which he has upon his family: ‘The last time their son had tried to take his life, his method had been, in the doctor’s words, a masterpiece of inventiveness; he would have succeeded, had not an envious fellow patient thought he was learning to fly – and stopped him. What he really wanted to do was to tear a hole in his world and escape.’ I found such descriptions touching and evocative, and indeed, this style of writing and character reveal threads through all three tales in Lance. The stories are very human, and I now have an interest to read more of Nabokov’s work in the near future.
The third titular story was the only one in this collection which I did not much enjoy. However, that may be because it is so firmly rooted in science fiction, something which I am not at all a fan of. I found it interesting enough to read, but it was certainly peculiar. Had this surprising collection featured only the first two stories, I certainly would have given it a five star rating.
Why I Am Not Going to Buy a Computer by Wendell Berry ***
The fiftieth, and final, Penguin Modern is Wendell Berry’s Why I Am Not Going to Buy a Computer, which features two essays. The title essay was published for the first time in Harper’s magazine in 1987, and the second – ‘Feminism, the Body and the Machine’, which provides a reflection upon it – in 1990.
In the first essay, as is evident in its title, Berry argues his case for writing ‘in the day time, without electric light’, and with only paper and a pencil. He says, of his decision: ‘I do not see that computers are bringing us one step nearer to anything that does matter to me: peace, economic justice, ecological health, political honesty, family and community stability, good work.’ He also points out that he very much enjoys the collaborative experience which he shares with his wife, who types up his work on a Royal Standard typewriter: ‘Thus (and I think this is typical of present-day technological innovation), what would be superseded would be not only something, but somebody. In order to be technologically up-to-date as a writer, I would have to sacrifice an association that I am dependent upon and that I treasure.’
This first essay ends with a transcription of several responses received after its publication, and Berry’s quite witty response. In the second, and more extended response essay, Berry writes in a measured way of those who chose to send letters to him, and the overriding view that he was both exploiting and oppressing his wife by getting her to type his work. Here, he reflects: ‘That feminists or any other advocates of human liberty and dignity should resort to insult and injustice is regrettable. It is also regrettable that all of the feminist attacks on my essay implicitly deny the validity of two decent and probably necessary possibilities: marriage as a state of mutual help, and the household as an economy.’
I found this short collection easy to read, and found that Berry argues his various points succinctly, although perhaps a little briefly at times, throughout. His reasoning, in some ways, feels quite ahead of its time. He touches upon many themes here, from materialism and relationships to technology and values. Berry’s essays have such a nice message at their heart: ‘My wish simply is to live my life as fully as I can. In both our work and our leisure, I think, we should be so employed. And in our time this means that we must save ourselves from the products that we are asked to buy in order, ultimately, to replace ourselves.’