In a 1972 interview (reproduced in Strong Opinions), Nabokov did distinguish between Pasternak the poet and Pasternak the prose writer. See below.

Cheers,

Brian Tombe

This interview, conducted by a docile anonym, is preserved in a fragmentary transcript dated October, 1972. 

      There are two Russian books on which I would like you to comment. The first is Dr. Zhivago. I understand you never wished to review it? 

      Some fifteen years ago, when the Soviets were hypocritically denouncing Pasternak's novel (with the object of increasing foreign sales, the results of which they would eventually pocket and spend on propaganda abroad); when the badgered and bewildered author was promoted by the American press to the rank of an iconic figure; and when his Zhivago vied with my Lalage for the top rungs of the best-seller's ladder; I had the occasion to answer a request for a review of the book from Robert Bingham of The Reporter, New York. 

      And you refused? 

      Oh, I did, The other day I found in my files a draft of that answer, dated at Goldwin Smith Hall, lthaca, N. Y., November 8, 1958. I told Bingham that there were several reasons preventing me from freely expressing my opinion in print. The obvious one was the fear of harming the author. Although I never had much influence as a critic, I could well imagine a pack of writers emulating my "eccentric" outspokenness and causing, in the long run, sales to drop, thus thwarting the Bolshevists in their hopes and making their hostage more vulnerable than ever. There were other reasons-- but I certainly left out of consideration one point that might have made me change my mind and write that devastating review after all-- the exhilarating prospect of seeing it attributed to competitive chagrin by some ass or goose. 

      Did you tell Robert Bingham what you thought of Dr. Zhivago? 

      What I told him is what I still think today. Any intelligent Russian would see at once that the book is pro-Bolshevist and historically false, if only because it ignores the Liberal Revolution of spring, 1917, while making the saintly doctor accept with delirious joy the Bolshevist coup d'etat seven months later-- all of which is in keeping with the party line. Leaving out politics, I regard the book as a sorry thing, clumsy, trivial, and melodramatic, with stock situations, voluptuous lawyers, unbelievable girls, and trite coincidences. 

      Yet you have a high opinion of Pasternak as a lyrical poet? 

      Yes, I applauded his getting the Nobel Prize on the strength of his verse. In Dr. Zhivago, however, the prose does not live up to his poetry. Here and there, in a landscape or simile, one can distinguish, perhaps, faint echoes of his poetical voice, but those occasional fioriture are insufficient to save his novel from the provincial banality so typical of Soviet literature for the past fifty years. Precisely that link with Soviet tradition endeared the book to our progressive readers. I deeply sympathized with Pasternak's predicament in a police state; yet neither the vulgarities of theZhivago style nor a philosophy that sought refuge in a sickly sweet brand of Christianism could ever transform that sympathy into a fellow writer's enthusiasm. 

      
      The book, however, has become something of a classic. How do you explain its reputation? 

      Well, all I know is that among Russian readers of today-- readers, I mean, who represent that country's wonderful underground intelligentsia and who manage to obtain and distribute works of dissident authors-- Dr. Zhivago is not prized as universally and unquestioningly as it is, or at least was, by Americans. When the novel appeared in America, her left-wing idealists were delighted to discover in it a proof that "a great book" could be produced after all under the Soviet rule. It was for them the triumph of Leninism. They were comforted by the fact that for better or worse its author remai! ned on the side of angelic Old Bolsheviks and that nothing in his book even remotely smacked of the true exile's indomitable contempt for the beastly regime engendered by Lenin. 




On Fri, Dec 27, 2013 at 2:48 PM, Carolyn Kunin <chaiselongue@att.net> wrote:
Merry Christmas to you too, Jansy (a bit late). I don't know that Nabokov differentiated between Pasternak as a prose or poetry writer. I would be surprized, since I don't think his disparagements had anything to do with Pasternak's artistic abilities - unless he was envious, which I doubt he would have admitted to himself. If Mary Efremov is correct (and I have no idea where she got her ideas from) then it was a politically based hatred. Well, wait and see what the List can come up with. Perhaps Alexey has some information for us?

Carolyn


From: Jansy Mello <jansy.nabokv-L@AETERN.US>
To: NABOKV-L@LISTSERV.UCSB.EDU
Sent: Monday, December 23, 2013 2:45 PM
Subject: Re: [NABOKV-L] certicle storms in Ada

Just checking: Nabokov disparaged Pasternak's novel Dr. Zhivago, sure. But he admired Pasternak's poems and respected him as a poet, right?
 
Merry Christmas season to you all.
Jansy Mello
-----Mensagem Original-----
Enviada em: domingo, 22 de dezembro de 2013 18:42
Assunto: [NABOKV-L] certicle storms in Ada

'What was that?' exclaimed Marina, whom certicle storms terrified even more than they did the Antiamberians of Ladore County.
'Sheet lightning,' suggested Van.
'If you ask me,' said Demon, turning on his chair to consider the billowing drapery, 'I'd guess it was a photographer's flash. After all, we have here a famous actress and a sensational acrobat.'
Ada ran to the window. From under the anxious magnolias a white-faced boy flanked by two gaping handmaids stood aiming a camera at the harmless, gay family group. But it was only a nocturnal mirage, not unusual in July. Nobody was taking pictures except Perun, the unmentionable god of thunder. (1.38)
 
In his poem Groza momental'naya navek ("The Thunderstorm Instantaneous Forever") included in Sestra moya zhizn' (My Sister Life) Pasternak, too, has grom (thunder) take pictures:
 
Sto slepyashchikh fotografiy
Noch'yu snyal na pamyat' grom.
In memory [of summer] the thunder took at night
a hundred blinding photographs.
 
In his Vysokaya bolezn' ("The Sublime Disease") Pasternak compares Lenin's govorok (speech) to shorokh moln'i sharovoy (the rustle of a ball lightning).
 
Certicle is an anagram of electric. On Antiterra (Earth's twin planet on which Ada is set) electricity is banned after the L disaster. L is Lenin's (and Lucette's, and Lolita's*) initial. Bliznets v tuchakh ("A Twin in the Thunderclouds," 1914) was Pasternak's first book of poetry. Bliznetsy ("The Twins," 1852) is a poem by Tyutchev



Google Search
the archive		 Contact
the Editors		 NOJ Zembla Nabokv-L
Policies		 Subscription options AdaOnline NSJ Ada Annotations L-Soft Search the archive VN Bibliography Blog

All private editorial communications are read by both co-editors.