July 17, 2006
Van Veen's Marksmanship
I had an argument with a friend yesterday about Nabokov's Ada or Ardor, which she was not wowed by. One of her objections (in addition to Van Veen's tiresome nastiness) is that Van doesn't seem to be the uber-competent superhero that he casts himself as. Even when Van goes on the green-eyed warpath, she says, he doesn't seem to be particularly good at nailing his targets. [We put aside the brutal episode with the alpenstock.] Her principal evidence appears to be his duel in Kalugano:
They found a convenient clearing, and the principals, pistol in hand, faced each other at a distance of some thirty paces, in the kind of single combat described by most Russian novelists and by practically all Russian novelists of gentle birth. As Arwin clapped his hands, informally signaling the permission to fire at will, Van noticed a speckled movement on his right: two little spectators—a fat girl and a boy in a sailorsuit, wearing glasses, with a basket of mushrooms between them. It was not the chocolate-muncher in Cordula's compartment, but a boy very much like him, and as this flashed through Van's mind he felt the jolt of the bullet ripping off, or so it felt, the entire left side of his torso. He swayed, but regained his balance, and with nice dignity discharged his pistol in the sun-hazy air.
His heart beat steadily, his spit was clear, his lungs felt intact, but a fire of pain raged somewhere in his left armpit. Blood oozed through his clothes and trickled down his trouserleg. He sat down, slowly, cautiously, and leaned on his right arm. He dreaded losing consciousness, but, maybe, did faint briefly, because next moment he became aware that Johnny had relieved him of the letter and was in the act of pocketing it. [Part 1, Chapter 42]
Now, of course there are narrative reasons that Van, being Pushkin, had to be winged and wounded here. But still, her point is a fair one. How does somebody as bloody-minded and brutal as Van get distracted by a couple of fat children and a basket of mushrooms? Mightn't this imply that Van is really not all that he is cracked up to be, making lame excuses in many years' hindsight to cover for the fact that he simply can't shoot?
On the other hand, other characters in the story reinforce Van's claim to marksmanship. Cue Lucette, later refusing to reveal the name of one of Ada's billions of boys:
"My dear," said Van, "do help me. She told me about her Valentian estanciero but now the the name escapes me and I hate bothering her."
"Only she never told you," said loyal Lucette, "so nothing could escape. Nope. I can't do that to your sweetheart and mine, because we know you could hit that keyhole with a pistol." [Part 2, Chapter 8]
Also, this conversation with Demon:
Demon: Van prefers football, but he's only a College Blue, aren't you Van? I'm also better than he at tennis-- not lawn tennis, of course, a game for parsons, but 'court tennis' as they say in Manhattan. What else, Van?
Van: You still beat me at fencing, but I'm the better shot. [Part 1, Chapter 38]
Now, it is true that both Demon and Lucette are dead by the time that Van purports to remember these conversations, so it is possible that he is slyly littering the text with references and cross-references to reinforce his bogus story about being distracted. But Ada, who reads the manuscript too (and who was present, with Marina, in the scene) ought to know about Van's prowess (or lack thereof) from their days in Ardis, and she shows no shame about being ready to correct him with marginal notes when he is puffing too much.
So I think it's better to take Van at half of his word. He is a good shot, and he was distracted. Now admittedly, the mushroom bit still sounds a little kooky. I think a better hypothesis is either that he is still in the brain-bog of self-pity ("I'll take you five versts across the bog," said Trofim, "the nearest is Volosyanka."), or that he simply does not care enough to summon up any real bloodlust. After all, just minutes before he decides that he is not even going to try to hit his opponent. And his first draft of his note to his father confesses that if he is killed it "can be regarded as a kind of easy suicide."
This seems more plausible. Given that only a chapter ago, Van has turned his back on the love of his life, Ardis, and paradise, and given Van's inclination for drama (and the fact that he does shoot himself in the head later on in the book), suicidal apathy seems so much more fitting than embarrassment and bad aim. Comments (20)
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