Wednesday, 12 April 2017

Mary by Vladimir Nabokov

"It had lasted no more than four days - four days which were perhaps the happiest days his life"

No reality can ever compete with the glorious and perfect memories of young love. Memories are untroubled by the angst and worries that might have existed in reality. They are edited and perfect, like an amazing portrait in a gallery, preserved in its perfection. 
This little tale from the author of Lolita,  at times beautifully outlines such ideas.
There are sublime descriptive pieces in here and yet they are interspersed with some real filler.
Most of us can relate in some way to Ganin, frustrated with everyday life and dreaming of some ideal that can never be. Perhaps that is the curse of getting older.

4 out of 5 times misery doesn't always love company.

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