what to read after lolita? I need more nabokov
pale fire
defense
invitation to a beheading
the gift
speak memory
pale fire
ada or ardor
pnin
so many things you fuck just go read
>>7792056
how nice
invitation to a beheading, pnin are pale fire are the absolutely necessary follow-ups, to be read in that order
>>7792028
Perhaps something by Nabakov?
>>7792028
You would love his lectures about Russian writers and famous european writers. He uses the same poetic and exuberant style of his works in his lectures, and he search for the same exuberance in the works of other writers, and expose them to the reader.
>>7792056
pnin sucked.
Pale Fire
Speak Memory
The Gift
>>7795296
u sucked
Memories of my melancholy whores
All great recommendations in the thread are good.
I would suggest Invitation to a Beheading -> Pale Fire -> Ada
Also, if you haven't read any Joyce yet, you could check him out, since he was one of Nabby's favorite/most respected authors.
Pnin, he wrote it around the same time he wrote Lolita.
I like his poems.
I died. The sycamores and shutters
along the dusty street were teased
by torrid Aeolus.
I walked,
and fauns walked, and in every faun
god Pan I seemed to recognize:
Good. I must be in Paradise.
Shielding her face and to the sparkling sun
showing a russet armpit, in a doorway
there stood a naked little girl.
She had a water-lily in her curls
and was as graceful as a woman. Tenderly
her nipples bloomed, and I recalled
the springtime of my life on earth,
when through the alders on the river brink
so very closely I could watch
the miller’s youngest daughter as she stepped
out of the water, and she was all golden,
with a wet fleece between her legs.
And now, still wearing the same dress coat
that I had on when killed last night,
with a rake’s predatory twinkle,
toward my Lilith I advanced.
She turned upon me a green eye
over her shoulder, and my clothes
were set on fire and in a trice
dispersed like ashes.
In the room behind
one glimpsed a shaggy Greek divan,
on a small table wine, pomegranates,
and some lewd frescoes covering the wall.
With two cold fingers childishly
she took me by my emberhead
“now come along with me,” she said.
Without inducement, without effort,
Just with the slowest of pert glee,
like wings she gradually opened
her pretty knees in front of me.
And how enticing, and how merry,
her upturned face! And with a wild
lunge of my loins I penetrated
into an unforgotten child.
Snake within snake, vessel in vessel,
smooth-fitting part, I moved in her,
through the ascending itch forefeeling
unutterable pleasure stir.
But suddenly she lightly flinched,
retreated, drew her legs together,
and grasped a veil and twisted it
around herself up to the hips,
and full of strength, at half the distance
to rapture, I was left with nothing.
I hurtled forward. A strange wind
caused me to stagger. “Let me in!”
I shouted, noticing with horror
that I stood again outside in the dust
and that obscenely bleating youngsters
were staring at my pommeled lust.
“Let me come in!” And the goat-hoofed,
copper-curled crowd increased. “Oh, let me in,”
I pleaded, “otherwise I shall go mad!”
The door stayed silent, and for all to see
writhing in agony I spilled my seed
and knew abruptly that I was in Hell.
>>7795941
> a naked little girl
>>7795941
Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet.
Age: five thousand three hundred days.
Profession: none, or "starlet"
Where are you hiding, Dolores Haze?
Why are you hiding, darling?
(I Talk in a daze, I walk in a maze
I cannot get out, said the starling).
Where are you riding, Dolores Haze?
What make is the magic carpet?
Is a Cream Cougar the present craze?
And where are you parked, my car pet?
Who is your hero, Dolores Haze?
Still one of those blue-capped star-men?
Oh the balmy days and the palmy bays,
And the cars, and the bars, my Carmen!
Oh Dolores, that juke-box hurts!
Are you still dancin', darlin'?
(Both in worn levis, both in torn T-shirts,
And I, in my corner, snarlin').
Happy, happy is gnarled McFate
Touring the States with a child wife,
Plowing his Molly in every State
Among the protected wild life.
My Dolly, my folly! Her eyes were vair,
And never closed when I kissed her.
Know an old perfume called Soliel Vert?
Are you from Paris, mister?
L'autre soir un air froid d'opera m'alita;
Son fele -- bien fol est qui s'y fie!
Il neige, le decor s'ecroule, Lolita!
Lolita, qu'ai-je fait de ta vie?
Dying, dying, Lolita Haze,
Of hate and remorse, I'm dying.
And again my hairy fist I raise,
And again I hear you crying.
Officer, officer, there they go--
In the rain, where that lighted store is!
And her socks are white, and I love her so,
And her name is Haze, Dolores.
Officer, officer, there they are--
Dolores Haze and her lover!
Whip out your gun and follow that car.
Now tumble out and take cover.
Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Her dream-gray gaze never flinches.
Ninety pounds is all she weighs
With a height of sixty inches.
My car is limping, Dolores Haze,
And the last long lap is the hardest,
And I shall be dumped where the weed decays,
And the rest is rust and stardust.
>>7795374
He respected his mastery of the English language, but only liked Ulysses. Though yeah, Joyce is great.
>>7792028
Next step this
While we're on the topic of Nabokov, has anyone here read The Real Life of Sebastian Knight? I've read a couple of his books and I want to eventually read all of them so this is a way of dipping my toes in his more obscure stuff.
>>7797824
This is off-topic and doesn't answer your question, but I've read Transparent Things, a less known work, and I loved it. Pretty short too, just about 100 pages in my edition. You should consider checking it out too.
>>7797830
I plan on eventually reading all of his books except The Original of Laura (I don't like incomplete works and it seems especially fragmented) so I'll get to it at some point. I'll probably try to go in chronological order after Sebastian Knight.
>>7797824
It's excellent. One of his best. You should read it immediately.
Remember that Nabokov loved to write chess problems. Look at the name Sebastian Knight and recall how the knight moves on the chess board.
>>7797890
Noted. It's funny how some guy told him he'd never be a writer when he was a kid.
