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In the early years of this century, a travel agency on Nevski Avenue displayed a
three-foot-long model of an oak-brown international sleeping car. In delicate
verisimilitude it completely outranked the painted tin of my clockwork trains.
to cling mentally to a tiny brown birthmark on her downy forearm, as one
concentrates upon a punctuation mark in an illegible sentence. Perhaps, had she
used a greater amount of make-up or used it more constantly, I might have
She keeps on walking to and fro where the brown nets are spread to dry on the
hot stone slabs and the dappled light of the water plays on the side of a moored
fishing boat. Somewhere, somehow, I have made some fatal mistake. There are ...
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NABOKOV'S DOZEN: Thirteen StoriesUser Review - Kirkus
This collection of thirteen short stories is uneven and ranges from three or four first class short stories through various memories, curiosities, character sketches and a Kafka-esque horror story, to ... Read full review