A Knight & His Queen - Rated 
Given the popular view of Chess as mechanical & abstract, this novel radiates surprising warmth. Perhaps because the story is not *only* about Chess. It's also about what might appear a perfect contrast to the world of abstract games: near-unconditional love between two living humans.
The central protagonist, Luzhin, grows up a Chess prodigy, becomes a top world player, meets the love of his life, a woman of character who loves him back despite his appalling health, & uncouth traits. Their union lasts for a while, until - but you should read the rest.
Now there's no escaping that the book turns around the axis of Chess. Though Nabokov always evades the purely technical, I have a hard time pushing the book to people who are not at least interested in gaming in the most general terms, & perhaps know the basics of Chess (this is roughly my own case). Much of the story deals with how its main character, within the realm of Chess, is a dancer in the greatest Russian tradition, & to appreciate the full beauty of this, however indirectly conveyed by Nabokov's elegant style, some appreciation for abstract games are an asset.
Still, it's in the real, earthy & fleshy world that one woman instantly recognizes our hero as master of an exalted craft. When he later runs into trouble, she is true to him, striving to transform him - less for her own comfort than out of compassion, & for his survival. Her love, & his appreciation of it, are moving. Though the novel does lose a little pace towards the end, this is more than made up for by calm, incandescent splendour. A Love Story, probably unreadable if it weren't so intelligently written.
A grand masterpiece - Rated 
The Luzhin Defence is the story of a little boy who loses his first name, and becomes a great genius who ultimately loses everything. It is a biography, spanning A. Luzhin's early childhood recollections; his isolation from society and the love affair that breaks temporarily through that; and his development to a Grandmaster inexorably moving towards the most crucial confrontation of his career.
Nabokov skilfully portrays Luzhin's life becoming like a reflection trapped between two mirrors, finally coming to an inevitable vanishing point. The moments in his life begin to echo and re-echo previous moments, like some recurring melody in the violin music that is a motif in the novel. His actions are like moves in a chess game, particularly in the first half of the novel, where the moments Nabokov castles, then brings out his queen, can be pinpointed.
Nabokov writes about his characters with such elusive, unsentimental humanity, that the reader is infused with warmth or compassion for them all.
And of course, as ever, the real reason for reading Nabokov is the exquisite rapture of his language. He realises worlds so deeply and so richly through the fullness of his language that sometimes I have even felt that the 'real' world could risk seeming like a faded facsimile in comparison.
Though completely different in style - completely - this book at times reminded me of Samuel Beckett's work, in that in flashes it circumscribes the outer reaches of existential loneliness.
I did not give this novel 5 stars because the endgame of the novel is not so skilfully realised as the first two thirds, and slightly loses pace.
It isn't as scintillatingly brilliant as Lolita, or Pale Fire....but still - a superb novel.
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