海角大神

In the lion鈥檚 share of famous literary marriages, both members of the couple put pen to paper. Think of Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath; Joan Didion and John Gregory Dunne; or Michael Chabon and Ayelet Waldman.

At first blush, the union of Vladimir Nabokov and the former Vera Slonim 鈥� who were married from 1925 until 1977, when Vladimir died at age 78 鈥� does not seem to qualify. To start with, there was only one famed writer 鈥� Vladimir, not Vera 鈥� in this duo. He was lionized thanks to such sometimes-celebrated, sometimes-scandalous novels as 鈥淭he Luzhin Defense鈥� (1930), 鈥淟olita鈥� (1955), and 鈥淧ale Fire鈥� (1962), among others. In contrast, Vera was seemingly content to spend her days as the spouse of a successful wordsmith (and mother to son Dmitri, born in 1934).

Yet observers have long pointed out that Vera was Vladimir鈥檚 all-around Girl Friday, helping him in matters such as office work and translation. As author Stacy Schiff puts it in the biography 鈥淰era (Mrs. Vladimir Nabokov)鈥�: 鈥淟awyers, publishers, relatives, colleagues, friends, agreed on one point: 鈥楬e would have been nowhere without her.鈥欌�� For example 鈥� Schiff notes 鈥� were it not for Vera鈥檚 counsel, Vladimir would not have translated 鈥淓ugene Onegin鈥�; and were it not for her decision to intercede, 鈥淟olita鈥� would have been lost to the sands of time.

Letters to Vera is a fascinating collection of correspondence in which we hear about Vladimir鈥檚 affection for Vera from the source. In letters stretching from two years before their marriage until one year before his death, Vladimir was rarely less than loving in writing to Vera about matters running the gamut from acquiring visas to raising young Dmitri. The clich茅 about writers is that they are a solitary, cynical lot, but Vladimir is the exception to the rule as he addressed the woman he variously called 鈥渕y priceless happiness,鈥� 鈥渕y beloved and precious darling鈥� or simply 鈥� and frequently 鈥� 鈥渕y love.鈥�

The book鈥檚 co-editors and co-translators 鈥� Olga Voronina and Brian Boyd 鈥� make clear that such private displays of affection were no act. 鈥淣o marriage of a major twentieth-century writer lasted longer than Vladimir Nabokov鈥檚,鈥� Boyd writes in an introduction, adding that the author was moved to compose a poem for his future wife 鈥渁fter having spent only hours in her company,鈥� and that the love was so lasting that he dedicated his very last book to her (as he had many others).

Again and again, Vladimir announced his ardor in terms far more inventive than most couples鈥� sweet nothings. In a 1924 letter, Vladimir noted the irony that he, whose 鈥渓ife鈥檚 work is moving a pen over paper,鈥� stumbles in putting across his feelings for Vera 鈥� though he proceeded to do just that, comparing their romance to a pair of contented clouds. Vladimir wrote: 鈥淚 cannot express these cirrus-cumulus sensations.鈥�

The book is marked by a structural oddity that makes sense when fully considered. The majority of the communiqu茅s were penned during stretches of time when circumstances separated Vladimir and Vera. For example, for a spell in June and July of 1926, Vera left the couple鈥檚 Berlin home for a stay in a sanitarium. 鈥淰era,鈥� Boyd writes, 鈥渉ad made her husband promise to send her a daily report 鈥� what he ate, what he wore, what he did 鈥� and Vladimir loyally obliged.鈥� Amidst such ho-hum dispatches, though, Vladimir inserted wild and whimsical puzzles and brainteasers, which the co-editors gamely reproduce.

Correspondence soared in the 1930s, when Vladimir struck out to Belgium and France 鈥渢o forge still stronger ties with the French literary world,鈥� Boyd writes, adding that by 1937, with World War II looming, 鈥淰era insisted to her husband that he had to flee Germany and find a way for the family to set up a life in France or England.鈥� Letters were in abundance while the family was split up, but once the Nabokovs pulled up stakes for France and, eventually, the US, the missives subside. After all, it is unnecessary to exchange written communications with a partner you share breakfast with.

From the mid-1940s onward, Vladimir鈥檚 letters to Vera decrease in number, but the book鈥檚 herky-jerky format is handled well by the co-editors, who furnish detailed introductory comments, a useful timeline, and insightful appendices. The reader is never lost.

Throughout, Nabokov鈥檚 appeal is unflagging, whether writing, in 1936 from Paris to Berlin, of how he yearned to see Vera and Dmitri (鈥淛ust now wet snow has been falling, the Seine is yellow, the dampness immediately takes the shape of one鈥檚 feet, as soon as one goes out鈥�) or apologizing, in 1937, for his penmanship (鈥淚 am writing in bed 鈥� hence the early-medieval perspective of my handwriting鈥�). Best of all are the little notes meant to be read by Vera to Dmitri. A typical example: 鈥淢Y MITEN鈥橩A, THE STEAMBOAT TOSSED A LOT, THE CAPTAIN AND I FELT SICK, I HOPE YOU鈥橰E BEHAVING WELL, MY LITTLE SUNSHINE, LOVE YOU.鈥� Charmingly, the capital letters are interrupted by tiny drawings of, among other things, a steamboat and shining sun.

A wife 鈥� and, indeed, a son 鈥� who could inspire such caring and creative letters as these deserve to be included in Nabokov鈥檚 literary legacy.