Tag Archives: Vladimir Nabokov

Before I forget…

The first time I couldn’t remember a name I was, perhaps, in my 30s. (It was a while ago; I don’t remember the year. Or my age.) I was at the Met for a performance of Tosca. It was an … Continue reading

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I’ve been re-reading Russian lit and have been stunned by one universal theme

I didn’t say to myself one day, “I’m going to read my collection of Russian lit.” There was no such plan. Simply, I decided it was time to re-read Anna Karenina. I was uneasy about doing it, uneasy about the … Continue reading

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