I Read Vladimir Nabokov’s ‘Despair’.

I have heard the term “unreliable narrator” many times, but never truly understood what the term meant or how it played out. It sounded like one of those buzzwords that people would use to describe books that “didn’t make sense”. Well, here I am saying that if this is what an unreliable narrator is, on a base level, I really do dislike an unreliable narrator.

On the surface level of this story, that could be one of the main issues I had with it. The story pans out and there is one detail which sets the whole affair in order, and in the end, this detail is incorrect, a total misconception, and the “draw” of the story, the mainline intent of it is tarnished. So in the end, the story ends up being sort of useless, all-in-all.

But beyond that, the content of the writing is like listening to someone yammer on at a neighboring table about themselves for 4 hours. Page after page is the main character suspenselessly talking about how He is, how His Wife is, how Her “Cousin” is. The story moves in about 4 massive steps with any action ever taking place, and the rest of the 212 pages is just an author believing themselves to be hilarious or interesting or captivating, but in a way that seems like it is trying to be ironic.

This is a book that I was ready to quit on within the first third but soldiered on, assuming there would be something interesting occurring with doubles, with mirror selves, with doppelgangers, with murder, with plot, with character, with… anything. By the time I found myself at the end of this one, I had found little of anything more than the briefest glimpses of clever turn of phrase and literary writing.

I have long wanted to dive into Nabokov and this was his premier for me and I am wildly disappointed! I do not recommend this book at all. But I will definitely be giving the author another chance as he is meant to be a master.