Dos fragmentos de The Luzhin Defense

Hacía ya tiempo que no encontraba una prosa tan inteligente y tan precisa como la de esta novela temprana de Nabokov. Publicada en Berlín en 1930, The Luzhin Defense fue escrita originalmente en ruso cuando Nabokov no había cumplido aún treinta años. La traducción al inglés la hizo él mismo veinte años después. La novela sigue a Luzhin, brillante jugador de ajedrez, desde su infancia hasta su consagración como gran maestro y su posterior descenso en espiral hacia la locura. No tiene sentido describir la belleza de la prosa, de manera que elegí un par de fragmentos que me parecen especialmente bien logrados. El primero es la siguiente descripción de un personaje secundario que aparece brevemente en una escena:

“And note”, said a plain-looking man who had listened to the whole of the journalist’s idea and appreciate it, “note that Tyutchev’s night is cool and the stars in it are round and moist and glossy, and not simply bright dots”. He did not say any more, since in general he spoke little, not so much out of modesty, it seemed, as out of fear of spilling something precious that was not his but had been entrusted to him. Mrs. Luzhin, incidentally, liked him very much, and precisely because of his plainness, the neutrality of his features, as if he were himself only the outside of a vessel filled with something so sacred and rare that it would be a sacrilege to paint the clay. His name was Petrov, not a single thing about him was remarkable, he had written nothing, and he lived like a beggar, but never talked about it to anyone. His sole function in life was to carry, reverently and with concentration, that which had been entrusted to him, something which it was necessary at all costs to preserve on all its detail and in all its purity, and for this reason he even walked with small careful steps, trying not to bump into anyone, and only very seldom, only when he discerned a kindred solicitude in the person he was talking to did he reveal for a moment –from the whole of that enormous something that he carried mysteriously with him– some tender, priceless little trifle, a line from Pushkin or the peasant name of a wild flower.

Uno de los mayores logros de la novela es cómo teje lentamente las imágenes y el lenguaje necesarios para describir la transición entre la genialidad de Luzhin en el ajedrez y la obsesión que hace al juego indistinguible de la propia vida. En el siguiente fragmento, Luzhin cree descubrir esa intersección en una combinación de movimientos que pasa a ocupar toda su atención, como si de allí dependiera su supervivencia:

The combination he had been struggling to discern since the ball, has suddenly revealed itself to him, thanks to a chance phrase that had come flying out of the next room. During these first minutes he had still only had time to feel the keen delight of being a chess player, and pride, and relief, and that physiological sensation of harmony which is so well known to artists. He still made many more small motions before he realized the true nature of his unusual discovery –finished his cocoa, shaved, transferred his studs to a clean shirt. And suddenly the delight vanished and he was overcome by other sensations. Just as some combination, known from chess problems, can be indistinctly repeated on board in actual play –so now the consecutive repetition of a familiar pattern was becoming noticeable in his present life. And as soon as his initial delight in having established the actual fact of the repetition had passed, as soon as he began to go carefully over his discovery, Luzhin shuddered. With vague admiration and vague horror he observed how awesomely, how elegantly and how flexibly, move by move, the images of his childhood had been repeated (country, house, town, school, aunt) but he still did not quite understand why this combinational repetition inspired his soul with such dread. He felt one thing keenly: a certain vexation that he had gone so long without noticing the cunning sequence of moves: and now, recalling some trifle, Luzhin was indignant with himself for not having reflected, for not taking the initiative, but with trustful blindness letting the combination unfold. But now he resolved to be more circumspect, to keep an eye on the further development of these moves, if there was to be one –and of course, of course, to maintain his discovery in impenetrable secret. But from that day on there was no rest for him –he had, if possible, to contrive a defense against this perfidious combination, to free himself of it, and for this he had to foresee its ultimate aim, its dire direction, but this did not yet appear feasible.