Speak, Memory: Worth Reading, but not a Must Read

Nabokov’s “Speak, Memory” has been called “The finest autobiography written in our time.” This is certainly an exaggeration. As with Pale Fire, Nabokov is pleasant reading (given a free afternoon in the middle of winter, plenty of strong black tea, nothing else to do, and ideally a warm, crackling fire). He is a writer of rare descriptive talents whose rich and complex language, like a fine wine, is best savored slowly. But he is not in my opinion a “great” writer, that is a writer of lasting cultural importance.

Just as the history of our world is not told in fine, rare wines but in coffee, tea, coke, and boxed rosé, so an understanding of Nabokov is not essential to the history of our culture as it has led to the present day. Nabokov does not grapple with anything beyond himself and his own small fate. I was excited to read Speak, Memory because I’d heard it offered a detailed and rich picture of St. Petersburg at the turn of the century. It doesn’t. It offers a detailed and rich portrayal of the author’s own family, but they are by no means representative of the society in which they lived. In fact, even when speaking about his own family Nabokov dwells more on the setting of the scene, on the fixed routines and rituals, than on what we might call the “life” (the feelings, beliefs, goals, setbacks etc…) of his characters. We get the impression of a very self-contained collection of precious objects, rather than living subjects.

To be fair, very few ten year olds are much aware of the world outside their family (Nabokov was around the age of 10 for most of the book). Nabokov’s ego-centricism is not particularly aggravating because it frankly admits itself as such. Nabokov’s aspirations as a writer are very deliberately modest: to remember what he remembers best. To grapple with nothing beyond his own “fate.” It is this modesty, this awareness of the limitations of his own egotism that makes Nabokov pleasant to read. But is Speak, Memory a “great” autobiography, a cultural touchstone? No, it is not.