Vladimir Nabokov. Primavera en Fialta : Клуб изучающих испанский языкVladimir Nabokov. Primavera en Fialta
Vladimir Nabokov. SPRING IN FIALTA
f words, a title he val ued higher than that of a writer; personally, I never could understand what was the good of thinking up books, of penning things that had not really happened in some way or other; and I remember once saying to him as I braved the mockery of his encouraging nods that, were I a writer, I should allow only my heart to have imagination, and for the rest rely upon memory, that long-drawn sunset shadow of one's per sonal truth.
I had known his books before I knew him; a faint disgust was at ready replacing the aesthetic pleasure which I had suffered his first novel to give me. At the beginning of his career, it had been possible perhaps to distinguish some human landsca