Vladimir dedicated nearly all his books to her, and VГ©ra famously saved вЂњLolitaвЂќ from incineration in a trash can when he wanted to destroy it. She was his first reader, his agent, his typist, his archivist, his translator, his dresser, his money manager, his mouthpiece, his muse, his teaching assistant, his driver, his bodyguard (she carried a pistol in her handbag), the mother of his child, and, after he died, the implacable guardian of his legacy. When they were apart, he pined for her grievously. Thank you, Stephen Cohen, Founder/Photo LA Claudia James Bartlett, Exhibitor Relations Wayne Fernandez, Event Manager Loretta Ayeroff, ProgrammingVГ©ra and Vladimir Nabokov were married for fifty-two yearsвЂ”a record, apparently, among literary couplesвЂ”and their intimacy was nearly hermetic. Saturday, Jan 14-Moby Book signing photoLA 2012: 4Sunday photoLA 2012: 5Monday A WIPI PRESS COLLECTION OF IMAGES SPECIAL WIPI 'FOOTWEAR' DIGITAL onsite SLIDE SHOW PRESENTATION.

And extravagant devotion may sometimes be the expression of vicarious grandiosity. Nabokov (1899-1977) had a penchant for writing about the tragic and the taboo in his books, especially the still-controversial Lolita.But his erudite, inventive approach to writing buttressed by his formidable academic and cultural intellect made him a literary legend.According to VГ©raвЂ™s biographer, Stacy Schiff, her subject had such a fetish for secrecy that she вЂњpanicked every time she saw her name in footnotes.вЂќ It seems inapt to call VГ©raвЂ™s love selfless, however: the two selves of the Nabokovs were valves of the same heart. Any account of 20th century authors with larger-than-life biographies has to begin with.Readers of Vladimir Nabokovs novels might be slightly uncomfortable with them, were they not so awe-inspiring. She stopped short of tasting his meals when they dined out, but she opened his mail, and answered it.The Secret History of Vladimir Nabokov (Pegasus Books, 2013).

They were born three years apartвЂ”he in 1899, she in 1902вЂ”and they spent their youth outrunning the murderous upheavals of the twentieth century. When the archangel passes, they throw their cigarettes away, and вЂњthis is what falling stars are.вЂќ From Paris, he describes the MГ©tro: вЂњIt stinks like between the toes and itвЂ™s just as cramped.вЂќNabokovвЂ™s ambition, as a young man, was to give VГ©ra вЂњa sunny, simple happiness,вЂќ a rare enough commodity for Russians of their generation. A ball rolls under a chair, the only furniture in a room: вЂњthings seem to have some sort of survival instinct.вЂќ Trying to quit cigarettes, Nabokov imagines the angels smoking in Heaven like guilty schoolboys. The earliest letters, intoxicated with language and desire, are intoxicating to read.

VГ©raвЂ™s character, Vladimir told her, was made of вЂњtiny sharp arrows.вЂќAfter the Slonims reached Berlin, VГ©raвЂ™s father, a lawyer, founded a publishing house. He liked to joke that he had turned her hair white prematurely it gave her an ethereal aura that belied her toughness. Her elegance in speech and dress rivalled that of her husband. She was pale and fine-boned, with the huge eyes of a waif. Petersburg during the Revolution and settled in Berlin, the de-facto first capital of the anti-Bolshevik diaspora. But each of them found a lodestar in the other.VГ©ra Evseevna Slonim was born into a rich Jewish family that fled St.

To be perfect was to marry well. вЂњThey were raised to be perfect,вЂќ a nephew recalled. She and her two sisters had been polished and educated to a high standard, mostly at home. VГ©ra worked in the office.

But she did admit to having memorized SirinвЂ™s verse, including his love poems to another woman, and she recited it to him in a voice that he found вЂњexquisite.вЂќ The writer was seduced with his own words. VГ©ra refused to speak for herself to posterity. Had VГ©ra вЂњaccostedвЂќ Sirin, as Boyd describes it? Was this an audition for which she had studied the role? And had she come with the вЂњvenerating expectationвЂќ that George Eliot attributes to Dorothea Brooke before her first meeting with Casaubon?Nabokov later told his sister that VГ©ra had indeed arranged the encounter.

Here, for example, he prepares for a reading in Paris:I had a great shave and began to dress. вЂњWe talked about everything, starting with the genitalia of HesperiidaeвЂќвЂ”a family * of butterflyвЂ”вЂњand ending with Hitler.вЂќBoyd and Schiff both drew upon these letters for their biographies, so they contain few surprises, except for the revelationвЂ”a disconcerting one, for a lover of NabokovвЂ™s fictionвЂ”that he could be a bore. On April 7, 1939, the day Mussolini invaded Albania, Nabokov is strolling in a London park, where the yellow pansies вЂњhave Hitler faces.вЂќ A few days later, he spends a morning with a fellow-lepidopterist. Perhaps Nabokov did not wish to trouble his вЂњPussykinsвЂќ with unpleasantries like the rise of Fascism he mentions Hitler exactly twice. He struggles as a stateless person to obtain visas, and вЂњour letters,вЂќ he laments, degenerate into вЂњbureaucratic reports.вЂќ Long passages are devoted to his social rounds, a recitation, for the most part, of obscure Russian names.

He loses track of their names, but he does record the gratifying presence of important writers and вЂњthousandsвЂќ of ladiesвЂ”вЂњin a word, everyone.вЂќ When the reading finally gets under way, he opens his briefcaseвЂ”a вЂњvery niceвЂќ one borrowed from a friendвЂ”and spreads out his papers. When all of that had been sorted, I looked very smart.He goes on to relate his dinner with Amalia and Zenzinov, his consumption of an eggnog, their arrival, by cab, at the вЂњpackedвЂќ hall on the Rue Las Cases, and the fatigue induced by having to smile at so many admirers. So Amalia Osipovna quickly had, first of all, to make me those, you know, armbands, out of elastic and Zenzinov had to give me his suspenders.В .В .В . Besides, the belt was peeking out from underneath the vest when I stood up straight.

Nabokov took a keen interest in her husbandвЂ™s every triumph, toothache, and fried egg. The account continues for four pages.There is little doubt that Mrs. The acoustics are вЂњmagnificent,вЂќ and every poem is greeted with rapturous applause.

VladimirвЂ™s frustration with her epistolary reticence is a constant themeвЂ”вЂњPussykins, you write disgustingly rarely to me. At best, she was a fitful correspondent. She systematically destroyed her own letters to Vladimir, and even blacked out the lines she had added on their postcards to his mother.

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