Bates College SCARAB Honors Theses Capstone Projects Spring 5-2015 Reflections in the Author's Eye: Optics, Involution, and Artifice in the oN vels and Short Stories of Vladimir Nabokov Amelia J. Oliver Bates College, [email protected] Follow this and additional works at: http://scarab.bates.edu/honorstheses Recommended Citation Oliver, Amelia J., "Reflections in the Author's Eye: Optics, Involution, and Artifice in the Novels and Short Stories of Vladimir Nabokov" (2015). Honors Theses. 117. http://scarab.bates.edu/honorstheses/117 This Open Access is brought to you for free and open access by the Capstone Projects at SCARAB. It has been accepted for inclusion in Honors Theses by an authorized administrator of SCARAB. For more information, please contact [email protected]. Reflections in the Author's Eye: Optics, Involution, and Artifice in the Novels and Short Stories of Vladimir Nabokov An Honors Thesis Presented to The Faculty of the Departments of English and Russian Studies Bates College In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Degree of Bachelor of Arts By Amelia Josephine Oliver Lewiston, Maine March 30, 2015 Table of Contents Introduction ......................................................................................................................... 5 Chapter I: ‘A Bleak Knoll With a Relentless View’ ......................................................... 12 Chapter II: Tracing Reality, Imagination, and Ocular Function ....................................... 44 Chapter III: The Double’s Reflection ............................................................................... 91 Conclusion ...................................................................................................................... 135 Works Cited .................................................................................................................... 142 Acknowledgements I would like to thank my English advisor, Sanford Freedman, for his encouragement and invaluable critical insight throughout this process. I would also like to thank my Russian advisor, Marina Loginova, who has expanded my understanding of the Russian language and whose guidance in examining Nabokov’s Russian works was crucial. Thank you to my grandmother and parents for always supporting and inspiring me, and to my brother who makes me smile at all the right moments. Mark and Jack, thank you for keeping me grounded and rolling. Finally, I must thank Professor Nabokov himself, for showing me the texture of the text. Introduction ‘Natural selection,’ in the Darwinian sense, could not explain the miraculous coincidence of imitative aspect and imitative behavior, nor could one appeal to the theory of ‘the struggle for life’ when a protective device was carried to a point of mimetic s ubtlety, exuberance, and luxury far in excess of a predator’s power of appreciation. I discovered in nature the non -utilitarian delights that I sought in art. Both were a form of magic, both were a game of intricate enchantment and deception. —Vladimir Nabokov ( Speak, Memory 125) Vladimir Nabokov (1899 -1977) caught his first butterfly at age seven. Spotting the pale-yellow creature with black blemishes and “a cinnabar eyespot above each chrome-ribbed black tail,” Nabokov recollects his desire for this insect was, “one of the most intense I have ever experienced” ( Speak, Memory 120). This seemingly ordinary moment shaped the course of Nabokov’s childhood in the “legendary Russia” of his earliest years and became one of his strongest passions through the course of his life: “Few things indeed have I known in the way of emotion or appetite, ambition or achievement, that could surpass in richness and strength the excitement of entomological 5 exploration. From the very first it had a great many interwinkling facets” ( Speak, Memory 126). One such facet was Nabokov’s growing obsession with the discovery of a new species of Lepidoptera, which began as a childhood fantasy and protracted into a chase, well into the author’s adulthood: Nothing in the world would have seemed sweeter to me than to be able to add, by a stroke of luck, some remarkable new species to the long list of Pugs already named by others. And my pied imagination, ostensibly, and almost grotesquely, groveling to my desire (but all the time, in ghostly conspiracies behind the scenes, coolly planning the most distant events of my destiny), kept providing me with hallucinatory samples of small print: ‘. the only specimen so far known . .’ And then, thirty years later, that blessed black night in Wasatch Range ( Speak, Memory 136). That “blessed black night,” in 1945, Nabokov collected two previously undiscovered “pugs”— speckled and camouflaged moths of the genus Eupithecia (Butterflies 755). The 1940s were markedly Nabokov’s most productive period of entomological advance. In October 1941, Nabokov took a position as an unpaid curator at the Harvard Museum of Comparative Zoology, which furthered his expertise on a group of butterflies commonly known as “Blues.” Between 1943-1944, Nabokov wrote a significant scientific paper, which developed a technique for delineating wing markings of the genus Lycaeides , by counting scale rows through a microscope, demonstrating the level of scientific precision with which Nabokov examined wing patterns of his beloved Blues (Boyd, Stalking 75). Into the 1950s and 1960s, Nabokov continued to expand his 6 butterfly collections, taking butterfly-hunting trips with his wife Véra to the American West each summer. These tours spawned some of Nabokov’s best literary creations, most notably Lolita , as well as the capture of several thousand specimens of Lepidopteron between 1940-1960. Nabokov, who never had a license, estimated that between 1949- 1959 Véra drove him more than 150,000 miles over North America ( Blues 9). But what exactly was the root of such a strong entomological attraction, burgeoning during Nabokov’s early childhood years and enchanting him until the very last days of his life? Mimicry is perhaps the first clue: The mysteries of mimicry had a special attraction for me. Its phenomenon showed an artistic perfection usually associated with man-wrought things. Consider the imitation of oozing poison by bubblelike macules on a wing (complete with pseudo-refraction) or by glossy yellow knobs on a chrysalis . Consider the tricks of an acrobatic caterpillar (of the Lobster Moth) which in infancy looks like a bird’s dung, but after molting develops scrabby hymenopteroid appendeges and baroque characteristics, allowing the extraordinary fellow to play two parts at once . When a certain moth resembles a certain wasp in shape and color it also walks and moves its antennae in a waspish, unmothlike manner. When a butterfly has to look like a leaf, not only are all the details of a leaf beautifully rendered but markings mimicking grub-bored holes are generously thrown in (124). Inlaid in these examples of intricate mimicry, Nabokov identifies a kind of natural, aesthetic perfection, founded in excess. The “macules on a wing completed with pseudo- refraction” is an embellishment, which mirrors the natural phenomenon of refraction found elsewhere in nature, as well as a reflection of the mirrored design on the partner 7 wing, creating a complex optical scheme. The process of metamorphosis also allows these specimens to acquire new masks—doubling their dual roles, as they transform and adopt different disguises. Nabokov similarly describes the mimicked, enigmatic ornamentation of the Blues wing: “The pattern of the Blues (underside) may be considered as cryptic inasmuch as it resembles the flowerhead on which the butterfly sleeps, with the scintillae imitating dewdrops in the dangerous light of morning” ( Butterflies 311). Again, the dewdrop on the underside of the Blue’s wing illustrates an example of natural artistic excess, as the pattern of the droplet goes much beyond the utilitarian function of camouflage and far surpasses any predatory perception. Noticing the marking of a liquid jewel on the butterfly’s wing, therefore, calls attention to our own consciousness, as it is this distinctively human faculty in observing and appreciating such an aesthetic detail that distinguishes us from other creatures. Mimicry also implies the imitation of hundreds of years of ancestral prototypes, whose mimetic markings are passed on, and perhaps restyled, from one Lepidopteron to the next. The descendants of the most aptly designed butterflies and moths are of course the species that survive, whose patterns and reproductions of patterns become mimicked, refigured, and repeated—and no one ever calls a progeny a plagiarist. The patterns of excess and artifice implicit in mimicry, harbor the potential for imaginative expanse. The aesthetic excess of a dewdrop, which escapes the notice of a predator, also points to the trick of the butterfly’s mirrored wings. Ocular distortions figure prominently in patterns of Lepidoptera, creating beautifully designed reflections, false doubles, even eyes, which point to their own artifice with the flicker of a wing. 8 Similarly, Nabokov creates effects of aesthetic artifice through his dizzying textual patterning, refracted images, involutions, textual encryptions and ocular illusions, which pattern his texts far beyond traditional frames of creation—masking and exposing his authorial imprints of artifice. For Nabokov, pure art mimics nature’s deceptive designs, pointing toward evidence of an architect who transcends the creative medium. Peering