Transparent Things

by Vladimir Nabokov

Book Overview

The darkly comic Transparent Things, one of Nabokov's final books, traces the bleak life of Hugh Person through murder, madness, prison and trips to Switzerland. One of these was the last journey his father ever took; on another, having been sent to ingratiate himself with a distinguished novelist, he met his future wife.

"As casual, as unpredictable, as eccentric and as daunting as Mr. Nabokov's genius." -Mavis Gallant, The New...

• Format: Paperback
• Language: English
• ISBN: 0679725415
• ISBN13: 9780679725411
• Release Date: October 1989
• Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
• Length: 128 Pages
• Weight: 0.32 lbs.
• Dimensions: 0.3" x 5.2" x 8.0"

Customer Reviews

Terrific!

Some writers--early Ian McEwan comes to mind--seem to be less interested in plot and character than they are in the power of their prose to capture a scene, a moment, or an experience. In TRANSPARENT THINGS, Nabokov performs his variation on such magic, creating a story that, in summary, is very dark and tragic but that is also secondary to its playful and droll tone. Undeniably, Nabokov's protagonist, Hugh Person, is both the agent and victim of tragedy. But the Nab's writing is so precise and masterfully amused that this novella's sad story seems almost incidental. For this reader, TRANSPARENT THINGS was primarily a wry comedy as Nabokov leads the goofy Hugh from scene to scene. Then, inexplicable anger, and perhaps madness, erupts. Nabokov's writing in this novella is superb, especially near the end. Here's just one example, which only he could write: "Earth and sky were drained of all color. It was either raining or pretending to rain or not raining at all, yet still appearing to rain in a sense that only certain old Northern dialects can either express verbally or not express, but versionize, as it were, through the ghost of a sound produced by drizzle in a haze of grateful rose shrubs. 'Raining in Wittenberg, but not in Wittgenstein.' An obscure joke..." Highly recommended.

A Novella That Nobody Understands (?)

I read that book and was a bit baffled. After reading the book, it was clear to me that one would need some help in trying to sort out exactly what the book means. Many other people such as John Updike have been baffled by the book. According to professional analysis found elsewhere, Transparent Things was first published in December 1971 in Esquire. And, from what Nabokov said, he finished the slim novella on April fool's day, of that same year. Is that the first tip? Is this book a bit of a sophisticated joke? Most people have a hard time understanding what it means, and it takes at least two reads to get any sort of an understanding. Nabokov himself was amused by the critics and probably would continue to be amused today if he was still alive, and he said: "Amongst the reviewers several careful readers have published some beautiful stuff about it. Yet neither they nor, of course, the common criticule discerned the structural knot of the story." And his biographer is quoted: Nabokov biographer Brian Boyd's analysis attempts to untie that "knot" with a more specific elucidation: "Within the small compass of Transparent Things and the bleak life of Hugh Person, Nabokov ruptures the relationship of reader, character, and author more radically than he has ever done, in order to explore some of his oldest themes: the nature of time; the mystery and privacy of the human soul, and its simultaneous need to breach its solitude; the scope of consciousness beyond death; the possibility of design in the universe." So where does that leave us average reader? What are we to make of it all? What is Nabokov's "knot." Without giving away the story, I can only guess but it is a "dream like" narrative of a man who is delusional and later near the end he is in a schizophrenic state? But as noted by others, it is not the protagonist himself who narrates the tale in a wild fashion, but a third party who is (presumably) lucid. Correct me if I am wrong, and I am happy to discuss the book with anyone; but, was Person not in some sort of delusional state at the end? And, how does his described actions show us a window on our soul, or even blur the boundary between life and death? Or is there a whimsical element here? Or is to make us think, or again is it just literary art? Many call the book a masterpiece. I think it is a very imaginative and hard to fathom piece of literature. It is literature as art, or art-for-art's sake. Nabokov has removed all the boundaries on his writing, mixing time and events. So, understand it or not, it is an interesting read.

powerful and full of texture, yet deliciously brief

This is typical brilliant Nabokov, with plenty of detail and mysterious threads laid down throughout that the imaginative can choose to follow or ignore. Because it was written in English rather than translated, Nabokov's prose is at its most powerful and organic - by far. The stories in this are extremely haunting, at least for me, musing on the nature of life after death, among many other themes. It is true genius and you can read it in a single sitting. Get it. You won't be disappointed.

Throw it on the pile of good Nabokov

Ok, it's not one of those change your life books like Ada or Lolita, but frankly, if you're considering reading Transparent Things, you've already read those anyway. If you've been burned before by Nabokov, you can trust this one, and better yet, it's 100 pages, so what's the risk? A good rule of thumb is that anything after Lolita is worth the time. Anything before is hit and miss.Another nice thing is that this is a follow up to Ada and Nabokov's still cranking. There's new philosophical and stylistic ground covered, and one would have thought that there wasn't anything else to cover after the big A. It isn't another love story for the ages, but it's well crafted and entertaining. Oh, and this, unlike most Nabokov doesn't leave you with that, good lord he's a conceited (expletive) feeling.

A singular achievement, truly

While Vladimir Nabokov is perhaps metafiction's most important literary lion, he is far from its founder. However, with his penultimate novel, TRANSPARENT THINGS, he actually takes transcends metafiction, quite literally removing it from this world and placing it firmly in the next. To put it bluntly (and putting aside all questions of quality), TT is an incomparable work. Although barely 100 pages, TT is one of the world's very most complex works of literature. To speak of the plot is deceiving since the perspective from and the manner in which the cynosure (viz., Hugh Person)'s tale is told -- and how he eventually relates to the teller(s)/telling -- is what the text is "about"; and comprehending this is no easy feat. While I personally don't consider John Updike a great mind, I don't think he can be derided for admitting that he was completely baffled by TT. (Incidentally, he still professed to admire and enjoy it.) This was, in fact, the general reaction to this book, a reaction which so frustrated Nabokov that he was prompted to break with his general reluctance to explicate his own work (an explication which he was obviously quite annoyed (and baffled to have) to give, as the confusion on the his readers' collective part was not due to any insufficiency in the book). (I hesitate to divulge where this interview can be found, but if you read the book and are similarly perplexed, any decent compendium on Nabokovian criticism will contain it, as there is VERY little that has been written on TT.) What can hardly be debated is the singular narrative approach Nabokov employs -- nay, creates! This novelty alone puts the reader in a place (s)he has never been and so a form or degree of literary vertigo is to be expected. As with all Nabokov, no matter the complexity and subtextual goings-on, the plot and character development of TT is not slighted -- and it is perhaps this Nabokovian trait which often allows even those who realize that they are perhaps missing the bulk of Nabokov's artisanship to still appreciate his art. Personally, I have neither enjoyed nor admired a work of art any more profoundly than I do this one.