Nabokov reclaims this as a work of art, not a genre piece. He focuses on the prose style—the “crisp, colorful, highly functional” descriptions of London fog and doorways. He argues the real horror is not the transformation but the logic of dualism, which he dismantles as a “picturesque illusion.”
This is one of the most entertaining sections. Nabokov, a stylist of exquisite control, adores Dickens’s chaotic genius. He revels in the “poetic incantation” of the fog and the mud. He shows how Dickens uses “causality”—not realistic logic, but a fairy-tale, dream-logic that makes the absurd feel inevitable.
A surprising choice, as Nabokov is not known for Austen. He dissects the novel’s three-dimensional structure, focusing on the precise choreography of characters in rooms. He praises the “tense, vibrant, almost unbearable rhythm” of the Portsmouth scenes, though he famously loathes the “moral” Fanny Price.
Nabokov refuses to read this as an allegory (of the Holocaust, of alienation, etc.). He insists: Gregor Samsa is a man who has turned into a beetle. That is the fact of the story. He then provides a detailed drawing of the Samsa apartment and Gregor’s insect anatomy (which he likely traced from an entomology textbook). For Nabokov, the horror is not the transformation but the family’s practical, mundane response to it.
A cornerstone of the course. Nabokov walks students through the famous carriage ride scene, the agricultural fair, and the blindness of Charles Bovary. He treats the novel as a perfect machine. Every detail—the dried wedding cake, the cigar case, the spoiled velvet—is a “tick” in the “clockwork of the novel.” His conclusion: great art is not moralistic, but it is deeply moral because it demands attention.
