So Dmitri Nabokov is going to publish posthumously his father Vladimir Nabokov’s last novel The Original of Laura next year. This is against his father’s request that his wife Vera burn the MS after his death (in 1977). I am very ambivalent about Dmitri’s actions. I agree with John Banville when he says that he hopes the book is up to VN’s HIGH standards. My concern is that if it was unfinished on his death (as is reported), is Dmitri up to those final words, touches, edits? Yes, Dmitri is the highest living authority on VN and has translated much of his work, but is there enough material for him to present the book totally and absolutely as VN’s work? Of course, you can see I am a fan of VN – a major fan of his work for much of my reading life. I am afraid that VN has no control over this end game, so important in the creation of novels. Dmitri claims in an interview that VN was not in a good frame of mind when he made the request (facing death). I feel anxious about this. I cannot imagine VN making such a request without serious consideration. Unless he was completely off his head on hospital drugs or had an incredible lapse of judgment, he would have made this decision with much deliberation. Perhaps VN would be mortified that his son is going against his decision. I also ask myself what motives Dmitri has. Sure, there is an argument that we have some kind of ‘right’ to literary giants’ work. That it would be a disservice to our literary heritage to burn this brilliant writer’s work. These arguments do not convince me. After all, VN has already left us a legacy of absolute brilliance. Lolita is surely one of the greatest novels ever written. And there is Pnin, Ada, Despair, Laughter in the Dark, Pale Fire and on it goes, not counting his non fiction, lectures, interviews and so on. Of course I am as curious as any avid fan but I also feel an uneasy sense about the whole business. I fear the book will disappoint me because I will imbue it with Dmitri’s rough hand (whether imaginary or real). I also feel as though I will be trespassing on VN’s personal property. As though I had access to his diary, meant for his eyes alone. I feel a little sullied just thinking about it. Of course, I will snap it up the moment it hits the shelves and read it immediately. I LOVE VN.     

Back in London, this time with my 14-month-old girl. She’s now sampled all the local swings and has given the thumbs up on the playground on the edge of St James Park, within firing distance of Buckingham Palace. I wonder if that’s why the police keep pulling up their horses and warily eyeing the busy mothers attending to their toddlers. What exactly are they looking for? A toddler with a sniper hidden under its anorak (spring began here a few days ago with a flurry of snow)…? Beneath squeals of delight, including those of my daughter Beattie, I sense a tow of anxiety. It’s not just the hard nosed scrutiny from the constabulary, but the gun metal helicopter hovering in the one spot a few hundred feet above us like some monstrous hummingbird. The children are oblivious to these expressions of paranoia, preoccupied with a giant sandpit, swings and kinetic play sculptures. I too try to dismiss the noise, the disturbances. But I find that my eye is wandering, watchfully, monitoring the environs. A brown paper bag sits upright on a concrete ledge nearby. It looks empty from where I am. My eye flits around it, looking for other signs. I dismiss it; move on. I don’t actually flirt with thoughts about bombs and attacks, but everything around me - the armed police, the security barriers, the CTC cameras – gives off a sense of foreboding; terrorism has already struck the city and is likely to strike again.
Beattie finally relinquishes the swing and only gently struggles against being lowered into her stroller. We walk across the green lawn peppered with daffodils and crocuses, bathed in the first real sunshine since arriving. Squirrels scamper around us, digging up and burying their acorn and nut stores. At a glance, they remind me of nimble rats, but nevertheless I lure them up to the stroller. Thankfully, Beattie is more interested in the wood pigeons and a pair of fat robins twittering in some low bushes. We exit the park and follow the road round St James Station and past New Scotland Yard. Black uniforms prowl the strip in front of the building, guns out. A gentleman nods hello; a lady congratulates them for doing such a marvellous job (I wonder what she means exactly). Beattie slumps in her cushioned seat, looking as imperious as ever, opening and closing her hand, giving the Queen’s wave. We pass by unnoticed. 

Apartment C – Published by Kings Hart Books, Oxford, UK.

Ruth Learner’s novel Apartment C came out in the UK in April 2008. Published by Kings Hart Books (www.kingshartbooks.co.uk). It was launched in Australia in August 2008 at Chapman & Bailey Gallery, Melbourne. It is available to buy from Brunswick Street Bookstore  (www.brunswickstreetbookstore.com), Melbourne University Bookshop (www.bookshop.unimelb.edu.au), The Avenue Bookshop (www.avenuebookstore.com.au), and of course from all online Amazon and other bookstores, and best online value at The Book Depository.

Ruth Learner was interviewed on Melbourne’s 3CR (Community Radio) book show on Thursday 30 October. Highlights from the interview will soon be downloadable from this site.

This is my first posting on Strong Opinions. One of the guys who helped build my site, Jerram, recommended that I read a few WordPress lesson websites to learn the way Strong Opinions will work. Well, I read them and it was like reading alien shorthand. However, it did get me thinking about the Internet and the point of this blog.

William Safire’s 2002 article in the NY Times online magazine tells us that a blog is a contraction of web log. He also says he doesn’t want a blog because he doesn’t want people to know what he thinks. I’m not sure that this is the point of Strong Opinions, at least. Thoughts are never that easy to convey, as they are often complex and very private. For instance, today the thought of collapsing on the floor of a travel agency screaming did pass through my brain. It was the final thought in a series of complex exchanges inside and outside of my grey matter as I tried to comprehend the stupidity of the travel agent. I did not enact this thought and ultimately it disappeared into the ether – until now that is.

I haven’t thought much about this first posting (is it that obvious?), but I have thought a bit about how the Internet might be useful. Simply, Strong Opinions is a vehicle for putting out opinions on things like whether the Internet is a good venue for literature, why novelists seem to feel obliged to do the equivalent of a masters degree in research every time they write a novel (astronomy was a pretty hot topic in the late 90s), how to extract toys (for my daughter) from their plastic casing without been reduced to someone with Tourette’s, and whatever other juicy morsels come up over time.

That’s it for now. Have faith. Things are really going to hot up once you all get involved and we can get some serious online debating. Hey, there’s a lot to talk about, so send me an email… and I’ll keep you posted.