W. B. SCOTT
I had read and hugely enjoyed Mr. Scott's essay on my EO translation, «The Cypress Veil», when it first appeared in the Winter, 1965, issue of the TriQuarterly. It is a most refreshing piece. My improved cab is now ready for publication.
Mr. Scott is also responsible for the last item in the volume, a letter addressed by Timofey Pnin to «Many respected Professor Apple [sic]», a stunning affair in which scholarship and high spirits interlace to produce the monogram of a very special masterpiece. And that frozen frenzy of footnotes!
SAUL STEINBERG
There is magic in every pen-stroke and curlicue of the delightful diploma that Saul Steinberg has drawn for my wife and me.
R. M. ADAMS
Mr. Adams' letter about me addressed to «M. le Baron de Stendhal» is an extremely witty piece — reminding me, I do not know why, of those macabre little miracles that chess problemists call suimates (White forces Black to win in a certain number of moves).
ANTHONY BURGESS
In Mr. Burgess' poem I particularly appreciate his Maltese grocer's cat that likes to sit upon the scales and is found to weigh 2 rotolos.
ALBERT J. GUERARD
''Not even Colette», says Mr. Guerard in his tribute to Ada, «rendered fleshly textures and tones with such grace». The lady is mentioned in Ada.
HERBERT GOLD
Blending fact and fiction in a kind of slat-sign shimmer, Mr. Gold recalls our meetings in upstate New York and in a Swiss hotel. I recall with pleasure my correspondence with the puzzled editor of the Saturday Evening Post for which he had written what I had thought was to be an interview with me — or, at least, with the person I usually impersonate in Montreux
RICHARD HOWARD
Mr. Howard's poem «Waiting tor Ada» contains a wonderful description of a Grand Hotel du Miroir very like some of the «nearly pearly nougat-textured art-nouveau» places where I have been «working wickedly away» during recent stjours in Italy.
JOHN UPDIKE
I am grateful to Mr. Updike for mentioning, in his stylish tribute, the little Parisian prostitute whom Humbert Humbert recalls so wistfully. On the other hand there was no reason at all for that harsh and contemptuous reference to a small publishing house which brought out excellent editions of four books of mine.
R. H. W. DILLARD
Mr. Dillard's poem «A day, a country home» is most attractive — especially the «light through the leaves, like butterflies» in the fourth stanza.
HORTENSE CALISHER
Miss Calisher's contubernal contribution expresses in a sophisticated metaphor her readiness to share the paranoia of her fellow writers. Oddly enough, even the best tent is absolutely dependent on the kind of country amidst which it is pitched.
JACK LUDWIG
I remember, not without satisfaction, how fiercely and frequently, during my last year of high school in Russia (which was also the first year of the revolution), most of my teachers and some of my schoolmates accused me of being a «foreigner» because I refused to join in political declarations and demonstrations. Mr. Ludwig in his splendid little article indicates with great sympathy and acumen the possibility of similar accusations being made by my new fellow-citizens. They could not vie with Vladimir Vasilievich Gippius, my fiery, red-haired teacher of Russian literature.
J. BARTH
Dear Mr. R.
Thanks for your birthday greetings. Let me wish you many returns of the same day. How many nice people crowd around my cradle! It is pleasant to know you like Max Planck. I rather like him, too. But not Cervantes!
Yours cordially,
V. N.
CLARENCE BROWN
Lines 31-32 of Mr. Brown's fascinating poem in Russian display a loopingtheloop inversion of which old Lomonosov might have been proud: «Why, better of Dante's Hell for him to burn in the seventh circle» if translated lexically. His cartoons in a British weekly are marvelous.
CHARLES NEWMAN
The editor of the TriQuarterly, in «Americanization of V. N». (an exhilarating physical process in the present case!) recalls taking Pale Fire «to Basic Training in hot Texas», tearing it from its binding, and keeping it «pure and scrolled in my Fatigues' long pocket like a Bowie knife» safe
from the Barracks Sergeant. It is a beautifully written, and most touching, epic.
DAVID WAGONER
Laughter in the Dark is paid a suitable tribute in Mr. Wagoner's sinister poem.
RICHARD STERN
I like the epithets «opulent, triplicitous», in Mr. Stern's lines, but I am not sure that any of the four Karamazovs (grotesque, humorless, hysterical, and jejune, respectively) can be defined as «triste».
ANDREW FIELD
My good friend, Mr. Field, has contributed some brilliantly worded remarks, one of which refers to V.N.'s being «counted upon to observe the hoisting of his statue (Peter the Great seated upon an invisible horse)». This reminded me suddenly of a not-unsimilar event in California where some fancy statuary, lovingly erected by a Russian group to commemorate Pushkin's duel, partly disintegrated after a couple of years' exposure, removing Pushkin but leaving intact the figure of magnificent Dantes pointing his pistol at posterity.
BROCK BROWER
The «sociopolitical nature» of Mr. Brower's tribute to Lolita, far from being repugnant to me (as he modestly assumes), is more than redeemed by the specific precision of his artistic touch.
IRWIN SHAW
In his «Advice to a Young Writer», Mr. Shaw draws his examples from the life, labors, and luck of «Vladimir N., perched on a hill in Switzerland». To Irwin S., perched on a nottoodistant hill, I send by Alpine Horn my best greetings.
JAY NEUGEBOREN
In a very pretty little poem, Mr. Neugehoren seems to
rhyme, somewhat surprisingly, «Nabokov» and «love». I would suggest «talk of» or «balk of» as more closely conforming to the stressed middle vowel of that awkward name («Nabawkof»). I once composed the following rhyme for my students:
The querulous gawk of
A heron at night
Prompts Nabokov
To write
RICHARD GILMAN
Mr. Gilman's tribute to Ada comes at a time when I still think that of all my books it is the one that corresponds most exactly to its fore-image; and therefore I cannot help being affected by his kind words.
GEORGE P. ELLIOTT
Among my short stories, «Signs and Symbols» still remains an old favorite of mine. I am happy that Mr. Elliott has singled it out for comment with a phrase from Ada heading his pithy piece.
ALFRED KAZIN
A final splendid salute comes from one of my friendliest readers. It ends on an emotional note which I inwardly respond to without being able to formulate my response with Mr. Kazin's force and feeling.
Written on March 10, 1970, and published in the Supplement to TnQuarterly 17, Northwestern University Press, 1970.
ROWE'S SYMBOLS
«It appears», says Mr. Rowe* in his Introduction, «that Nabokov — partially by means of the mechanisms revealed below — will continue to flutter the pulses of his readers for some time».