I went to the used bookstore today. Going to such bookstores is almost dangerous for me because it’s virtually a guarantee that I’ll acquire three new books, at minimum. You never know what you’re going to find when you go to the used bookstore, so imagine my surprise (and happiness) at discovering this book.
This is basically the definitive Nabokov biography, at least from what I’ve heard. Unfortunately, it’s volume two–the store did not have volume one. To be honest, though, I would prefer to read volume two because I know less about Nabokov’s American years than his European ones. (His autobiography, Speak, Memory, which I devoured last year, deals with his life until 1940, when he fled Europe because of World War II.) And yes, though the biography is close to 800 pages, I am so looking forward to reading it because I’m seriously obsessed with Nabokov.