Invitation to a Beheading

In this account of a man sentenced to death, Nabokov reveals a talent for the surreal. The accused man has not been told the date of his death sentence. He has been left completely in the dark. He has been locked up in a very bare and sparse prison, with guards, a prison director and assistant. Yet there are no other prisoners, none in the whole facility. The mental musings of the prisoner are the focus of the book. The incidents are often highly surreal and not possible. They sometimes seem like one is reading a Magritte. Yet they are illustrative and fascinating. In one scene his family comes to visit him in prison, complete with furniture. In another he sees the prison director who is also the assistant director as miniature people. Wherever his musings take us, they are truly of great interest. In the final scenes the surreal nature of the musing continues. The scene of the execution is somehow `disturbed.' Things are not as they should be. And as a result, he just disappears, along with everything else. While the nature of the writing is extremely Kafkaesque, Nabokov had not read any Kafka when he wrote this story. In addition, neither Kafka, nor any of the major existentialists combine their philosophy with surrealism in the same way or to the same degree as does Nabokov in this book. The book is recommended to all lovers of Nabokov and to those looking for a true contemporary classic fiction novel.

"Invitation to a Beheading" is a strange book. First of all, it sports a brilliant preface by the author, and truth be told, this preface is superior to the contents of the novel itself. In response to just a few pages, you feel compelled to buy the author's "Lectures on Literature", which are only a poor substitute for the real experience of listening to Nabokov in person. The author explains the intricacies of translation, done by his son, Dmitri, under the father's supervision, with particular emphasis put on the title. If you are lucky to know Russian, you will be able to appreciate the importance of the problem at hand, and in addition you will see how well this book is translated into English. At different points in his life Nabokov wrote in three different languages, and "Invitation to a Beheading" dates from 1934, in a period where the author still wrote in his beautiful and melodic mother tongue. This is an early book by this author, and ever since its publication it was compared to Franz Kafka's "The Castle", which annoyed Nabokov a little, which he ironically expresses in the aforementioned preface."Spiritual affinities have no place in my concept of literary criticism, but if I did have to choose a kindred soul, it would certainly be that great artist [Kafka - the Moose] rather than G. H. Orwell or other popular purveyors of illustrated ideas and publicistic fiction. Incidentally, I could never understand why every book of mine invariably sends reviewers scurrying in search of more or less celebrated names for the purpose of passionate comparison. During the last three decades they have hurled at me (to list but a few of these harmless missiles) Gogol, Tolstoyevski, Joyce, Voltaire, Sade, Stendhal, Balzac, Byron, Bierbohm, Proust, Kleist, Makar Marinski, Mary McCarthy, Meredith (!), Cervantes, Charlie Chaplin, Baroness Murasaki, Pushkin, Ruskin, and even Sebastian Knight. One author, however, has never been mentioned in this connection - the only author whom I must gratefully recognize as an influence upon me at the time of writing this book; namely, the melancholy, extravagant, wise, witty, magical, and altogether delightful Pierre Delalande, whom I invented." Any type of plot summary will not give this book justice, for you must know that this book is not about the plot. In the case of Invitation to a Beheading, writing a blurb is much like writing a blurb with a summary of an Emily Dickinson poem. Well, once upon a time ago, in the paralell universe of the fantasy realm of Nabokov's imagination, Cincinnatus C. is captured, and found guilty of gnostic turpitude, a crime escaping definition. Cincinnatus has visions. He writes about them. His family visits him in the fortress, where he is locked. And he does not understand a thing of all this mess he found himself in. Yet he does not lose his wit, and tries to manage his fate as best he can. And it turns out that he can manage pretty much, considering. The book is Russian to the bone.

I first read this book as a student in the 1960's and was puzzled but liked it. It seemed, to quote Nabokov, a violin in a void. Suddenly in 1989 I realised it is a prophecy about the Fall of Communism, its symbolism very close to what actually happened: the State and its ideology - once wielding real power and terror- have withered to an absurd shell, its rewards and blandisments have someting of senile infantilism about them, only its power as a death-dealer is apparently undiminished. The victim, Cincinnatus, suddenly realises he has had enough, stands up and comes to his senses and the whole idiotic apparatus of oppression crumbles to dust. It could have been the story of Prague, Budapest, Warsaw or East Berlin in 1989. My favourite Nabakov, it is a beautiful, haunting and unforgettable piece of writing.

Whoever it was that wrote the encyclopedia entry at the top of this page either didn't read the book or didn't understand Nabakov. Invitation to a Beheading is one of the most gorgeous books I've ever read. To drop it under the label "anti-utopian" and try to resolve the ambiguities at the end in a poorly aimed summary doesn't even hint at the richness of the book. Thank goodness Nabakov dedicated his life to writing literature instead of lousey encyclopedia entries. Leaving the political and entering the artistic, the world Nabakov lived in after all, Invitation to a Beheading is one of the finest metaphores on the artistic condition I've ever read. Yes, Kafka is mild in comparision, and, as Nabakov always asserted, there's no connection anyway. --Dane Larsen

Yet another example of the beautiful style of Nabokov. Almost a fairy tale in which a man (Cinncinatus) is condemned to death for knowing too much. The society which sentences him is ludicrous and humourous at the same time, too outlandish to believe, and the main character is the only man who could be considered in touch with reality. In the end as he is on the chopping block, Cinncinatus suddenly leaves this "reality" behind, and the whole world, executioner and all, crumbles behind him. This book was a constant attention getter, drawing me in to the realm of a man captured by a sick society for the crime of being real. This book is worth the read just for the power of storytelling that Nabokov exhibits.