The Last Word

I am pretty sure it is quite impossible to conjure up a last word or words about this semester’s Nabokov exploration. I, as I’m sure all of you, have an infinite number of questions and discoveries left unanswered, left undiscovered. If anything, studying Nabokov has opened the “doors of my perception.” (thank you Aldous Huxley). It has opened the windows, reflecting the pale light off the windowpane, to a world of literature that is not one or even two-dimensional in perception. How many rungs up the ladder did we in fact reach? 8? 9? 10? However far we dove into the endless abyss of text and texture we still seem to be just under the surface. If I have learned anything at all this semester and if anything from this fall we leave a permanently transparent mark on my spine for literature, it is this: NOT TEXT BUT TEXTURE and BEAUTY AND PITY ARE THE PASSWORDS FOR IMMORTALITY, FOR ART.

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This entry was posted on December 11, 2009 at 5:29 am and is filed under Nabokov . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.