Review by Kirkus Book Review
The first full transhtion of the Russian Symbolist classic by Boris Bugaev (pseudonym Andrei Bely), which was first published in 1913, then revised and republished in 1922. The Grove Press edition of 1959, translated by John Cournos, is a lumpen affair that has none of Bely's grace or brilliance--and has no notes, which now are absolutely necessary. Petersburg was Nabokov's favorite 20th century Russian novel, and he ranked it with Joyce's, Kafka's, and Proust's most celebrated works. It's easy to see why, since the book really holds up in the present Maguire-Malmstad translation, which is a jewel-cutter's showcase. The plot, which borrows a few touches from Dostoevski's The Possessed, is a simple figure around which is woven a vast tapestry of impressions of Petersburg in October. Even as Joyce's Ulysses is Dublin seen as a gray cloud of particles held in the solution of a single day, so Petersburg is shown as a cloud of vodka brilliancies born upon a cosmic gust of revolution and theosophy-anthroposophy, a town grasped in an astral vision according to Madame Blavatsky and Annie Besant. The story: young Nikolai Apollonovich, who is only vaguely associated with revolutionists (this is a novel of randomness) is given a sardine tin with a bomb in it. The bomb is set to explode in 24 hours and ticks away in his desk throughout the novel. It is meant to kill his crotchety father, a reactionary senator whose wife has deserted him for a handsome officer. Some ineffective revolutionaries keep Nikolai bucked up to do the horrible deed, but he finds (too late) that he loves his father. The suspense, despite an array of literary obfuscations, is kept ticking to the last page. Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
