American Contributions to the 15th International Congress of Slavists, Minsk, August 2013

Cruel Wit: The Ethics of Humor in Vladimir Nabokov's Fiction

David M. Bethea and Christina Y. Bethin, eds. American Contributions to the 15th International Congress of Slavists, Minsk, August 2013. Bloomington, IN: Slavica, 1–11. Cruel Wit: The Ethics of Humor in Vladimir Nabokov’s Fiction Julian W. Connolly There is a memorable scene in Vladimir Nabokov’s novel Pnin when Pnin enters a sports shop in Waindell and tries to buy a “football” as a gift for Victor Wind, the son of his ex-wife, who is coming to Waindell for a visit. The narrator comments: “The request was unseasonable but he was offered one” (1989a: 99).1 The store clerk offers Pnin an ordinary American football, and Pnin becomes upset: “‘No, no,’ said Pnin, ‘I do not wish an egg or, for example , a torpedo. I want a simple football ball. Round!’” (1989a: 99). Pnin is thinking, of course, of what Americans call a soccer ball. After Pnin outlines the shape of the ball he wants to purchase, the clerk brings him a soccer ball, and Pnin departs fully satisfied. This is a warmly humorous moment, characteristic in its depiction of a hapless Pnin struggling with a world that does not quite understand his aspirations or desires. Yet the moment has a sequel. When Victor arrives, he tells Pnin that he “hates football” and is not really good at any game (1989a: 107). A “look of dismay” then creeps over Pnin’s face. The humor of the earlier scene now grades into sadness, and Nabokov caps the episode by revealing that Pnin throws the new ball out his window to spare himself and Victor the awkwardness of Victor receiving a present he really does not want. One finds in this episode a blend of humor and pain that seems characteristic of many of Nabokov’s novels. The present essay seeks to explore the nature of humor in Nabokov’s fiction, beginning with observations on a work he wrote in the 1930s and focusing on two works he completed after settling in America. The subject of humor in Nabokov is large and complex, and it has been ably commented on by several scholars. Some, like Brian Boyd and Matthew Brillinger, have elaborated on the positive aspects of Nabokov’s use of hu1 One cannot help wondering whether Nabokov was not thinking of the fixed phrase “an unreasonable request,” and substituting the word “unseasonable” for “unreasonable .” This would be a characteristic example of Nabokovian word play. 2 JULIAN W. CONNOLLY mor. Boyd, for example, finds humor in Nabokov connected to a capacity for freedom and the encouragement to discovery (1997: 40–41). Brillinger argues that through humor Nabokov develops in his readers the mental attributes of “curiosity, creativity, and a hunger for detail” (2007/2008: 98). And Paul Grant reminds us that “lies and laughter help us tolerate the cruelties and contradictions of existence, evade painful truths, hold suffering at bay” (2002: 154). Other scholars have written about the darker hues in Nabokov’s use of humor. These include W. Woodin Rowe (1974) and Richard Pearce (1978), who have both written about “black” or “black-hole” humor in Nabokov. The focus of this essay is somewhat different. It will examine a specific mode of humor that Nabokov first addressed in his Russian-language novel Kamera obskura (published 1932–33 and translated by Nabokov into English as Laughter in the Dark [1938]), and developed extensively in two novels written within just a few years of each other, Lolita (published 1955) and Pnin (published 1957). This is humor that flourishes on one character’s mockery of another character, with the character who’s doing the mocking also serving as the narrator of the novel. Through its analysis of this type of humor and of its effect on the reader, the paper aims to uncover the ethical dimensions of Nabokov ’s use of humor in these later novels. The starting point for this inquiry is the discussion of Axel Rex’s sense of humor in Laughter in the Dark. The narrator declares: “It amused him immensely to see life made to look silly, as it slid helplessly into caricature. He despised practical jokes: he liked them to happen by themselves with perchance now and then just that little touch on his part which would send the wheel running downhill. He loved to fool people […]” (1978: 143). Yet at the same time, the narrator observes: “this dangerous man was, with pencil in hand, a very fine artist indeed” (1978: 143). A dangerous man, a...