Book Review: Pnin is a story made of incidents found in the middle of the life of a fumbling Russian émigré of the same name trying to make it in American academia. Sweet, gentle, sad, subtle, warm, loving. Moments found during a difficult time but the reader hopes he will survive. Intelligently written with wonderfully detailed descriptions. Little plot, more of a soft water color of a novel. Bittersweet -- pity the poor immigrant but admire his endless resilience and capacity for humor and friendship. Brief moments of intense sorrow, sometimes enormous and at other times quite small, that grab the reader's heart no matter what. Multilingually literary, but a simple story that should be read slowly. Historical moments of the time come into focus briefly, then are eclipsed by Pnin's life. What's occurring in the outer world isn't the subject, more a counterpoint to what's happening to our hero. And it's all too brief. Nabokov only gives us sketches and then is off sketching something other. Despite being repeatedly and cruelly abused, exploited, and manipulated by his ex-wife, Pnin keeps helping her and Nabokov doesn't make us despise Pnin for letting himself be used, but instead respect him for his generosity and ability to love. This reaches its apotheosis in his fondness for her son, Victor, which is the fleeting heart of the book. We want to know more about his interaction with his stepson in this anti-Lolita, we want to share the warmth and depth of their relationship, but Nabokov has already moved on somewhere else. This could have, should have, been the center of the novel, but it's not. For me Pnin was incomplete, undeveloped, too little. Many people think the novel is hilarious, but for me it was just a few chuckles because the humor seemed literal, so much of it was believable and real. A marvel of good writing (perhaps over my head), but too minimal a story. [3★]
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