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…Mashenka fue mi primera novela. Comencé a trabajar en ella en Berlín, poco después de haber contraído matrimonio, en la primavera de 1925. La terminé a principios del año siguiente, y fue publicada por una editorial regida por emigrados rusos (Slovo, Berlín, 1926). Dos años después, aparecía una versión alemana que no he leído (Ullstein, Berlín, 1928). Con esta sola excepción, la novela no ha sido traducida a lo largo del impresionante período de cuarenta y cinco años

"Maszeńka", napisana na emigracji, uchodzi za najbardziej rosyjską powieść Nabokova. Specyficzny klimat książki, pełen niedopowiedzeń, dwuznaczności, mistyfikacji, fascynuje i urzeka czytelnika, który wraz z bohaterem utworu przeżywa jego duchowe rozterki. Ganinowi – bo tak nazywa się ów bohater – ojczyzna z perspektywy ubożuchnego berlińskiego pensjonatu dla rosyjskich emigrantów jawi się jako nostalgiczny sen, mit, niezatarte wspomnienie. Jednocześnie zaś przeżyta t a m, w Rosji, miłość młodzieńcza i romantyczna, jest dla niego droższa i realniejsza niż szara, nieprzyjazna teraźniejszość. I nagle okazuje się, że dziwnym zrządzeniem losu bliskie jest spotkanie z ukochaną. Ganin przeczuwa, że pojawienie się prawdziwej Maszeńki – nie tej z wyidealizowanych wspomnień młodości – unicestwi kruchą przeszłość…

Speak, Memory, first published in 1951 as Conclusive Evidence and then assiduously revised in 1966, is an elegant and rich evocation of Nabokov’s life and times, even as it offers incisive insights into his major works, including Lolita, Pnin, Despair, The Gift, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight, and The Defense

The Enchanter is the Ur-Lolita, the precursor to Nabokov’s classic novel. At once hilarious and chilling, it tells the story of an outwardly respectable man and his fatal obsession with certain pubescent girls, whose coltish grace and subconscious coquetry reveal, to his mind, a special bud on the verge of bloom. “A tale of crime and punishment… a foretaste of one of this century’s great novels.” “The Enchanter is an alarming, sensuous and shimmering forerunner of Lolita…. It is a delight to have this early version of Nabokov’s strange, compelling fantasy.” “Sensuous, amusing, scary… Nabokov lifts [The Enchanter] through the exhilarating artistry of his poetic and explicit language.” “[The Enchanter is] in the top class of Nabokov’s work.” “Elegantly written and exquisitely shaped.” “The Enchanter exhibits all of [Nabokov’s] cunning and exactness of execution…. The Enchanter will indeed enchant.” “One of the most exciting novellas ever written, Nabokov near, or at least clearly anticipating, his very best.”

The Gift is the last of the novels Nabokov wrote in his native Russian and the crowning achievement of that period in his literary career. It is also his ode to Russian literature, evoking the works of Pushkin, Gogol, and others in the course of its narrative: the story of Fyodor Godunov-Cherdyntsev, an impoverished émigré poet living in Berlin, who dreams of the book he will someday write—a book very much like The Gift itself

For the first time in English, Vladimir Nabokov’s earliest major work, written when he was only twenty-four: his only full-length play, introduced by Thomas Karshan and beautifully translated by Karshan and Anastasia Tolstoy. The Tragedy of Mister Morn was written in the winter of 1923­­–1924, when Nabokov was completely unknown. The five-act play—the story of an incognito king whose love for the wife of a banished revolutionary brings on the chaos the king has fought to prevent—was never published in Nabokov’s lifetime and lay in manuscript until it appeared in a Russian literary journal in 1997. It is an astonishingly precocious work, in exquisite verse, touching for the first time on what would become this great writer’s major themes: intense sexual desire and jealousy, the elusiveness of happiness, the power of the imagination, and the eternal battle between truth and fantasy. The play is Nabokov’s major response to the Russian Revolution, which he had lived through, but it approaches the events of 1917 above all through the prism of Shakespearean tragedy. The variety, force and richness of Nabokov’s perceptions have not even the palest rival in modern fiction. To read him in full flight is to experience stimulation that is at once intellectual, imaginative and aesthetic, the nearest thing to pure sensual pleasure that prose can offer. He did us all an honour by electing to use, and transform, our language. The power of the imagination is not apt soon to find another champion of such vigour