on the nature of love

First of all, this man is my ultimate hero. Oh, Vladimir Nabokov, you are something else. Not only did he write some of the most beautiful prose in existence, he was also a respected Lepidopterist. And a synaesthete! He spoke three languages and wrote puns that required understanding of all three tongues to make any sense of the joke. Every day, I come home and read Ada, and throw it to the ground in disgust, and underline words I don't understand, and get up and pace around the room, and try and try and try to make sense of things, because I want to understand every reference. It is not an easy book. Yet, I'm touched... very, very touched, and I really can't get this book out of my mind. I love her, I need her, I hate her, I'm giving my friend $50 to shoot her in the back of the head, I'll marry her today if she says yes, my oh my, I'm going to die.

Blar-blar. Second of all, I love making lists. Ever since I started Ada, I've been trying to think about who my favorite authors are. I'd say it's pretty clear: Nabokov, Roth, and Kundera. But who is king? I've read more Kundera than any other author, but always in translation. I really don't think I could count him as #1 favorite, since the exact words he labored over were Czech or French... not the ones I'm reading. He's a step removed. I love Kundera for his ideas and thought processes... not so much for his prose style.

So it's Nabokov or Roth, then. I don't know, I don't know! Lately, I think Nabokov edges out Roth by a small margin. Philip Roth does spin a good fucking yarn, though. It's so hard to compare them. With Philip Roth, it's very "What does it mean to be an American? What does it mean to be a member of this generation, or this social group, or this ____?" It's hard to put into words, but Roth really brings out a bittersweet patriotism in me, which I think is the best kind. Yet, with Nabokov, it's more, er... "What does it mean to occupy this small universe inside my head?" It's not even that he especially tries to address something like this (or, I dunno, maybe he does, I get lost in the issues sometimes), but I feel that we are kindred spirits somehow -- sometimes when I'm reading Ada, I feel like it's a giant inside joke that I've written for myself. I don't know, both have these beautiful, epic, human struggles, but they're just so different... Roth makes me turn outward, and Nabokov brings me in to a visceral little place. Perhaps they tie, then. Who knows... it's good to be in love.

My 5 favorite books, then, are (not in order):

* The Plot Against America by Philip Roth
* Immortality by Milan Kundera
* Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
* Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates
* The Master & Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov

Ada doesn't count, because I'm not done yet.

Maybe my next update won't be so dry. I have a great story about spilling hamburger grease on a shirt the first time I wore it, so watch for that!