The Original of Laura belongs on the coffee table more than it belongs on the bookshelf. Vladimir Nabokov's posthumously published "novel" reproduces the 138 index cards of a novel he was working on at the time of his death. The pages of this Knopf production consist of card stock, with perforations surrounding each index card to boot. Typeset text of Nabokov’s words accompanies each index card, like the descriptions of paintings accompanying a coffee table collection of Van Goghs. This package feels nice and heavy in your hand. Flipping the pages reveals interesting tidbits about Nabokov’s thought process. He numbered his index cards in an elaborate system, identifying first the chapter, and then the number within that chapter. He also misspelled many things, whether because he couldn’t be bothered to spell things correctly or because he was unsure of the correct spellings.Flipping through the pages, however, does not provide a comfortable reading experience. The reader is solving a mystery, both trying to piece together a narrative that makes sense from Nabokov’s index cards, while trying to figure out whether or not he intended the readers to read it that way. As far as I can tell, the story is about a woman named Flora, who has a book written about her by a former lover called “My Laura.” The real Flora is married to an older professor, Philip Wild, who tries to figuratively make his body disappear, and thus, to die. Nabokov’s index cards tell both the story of Flora and the story of Laura, occasionally confusing the reader about which is which.
Moments of gorgeous prose about the female body or about what it feels like to cut off to remove one’s toes are pleasurable, but are not enough to go by to judge the quality of Nabokov’s novel.
The unfinished-ness of The Original of Laura raises the whole question of whether or not incomplete manuscripts should even be published. As Sam Anderson points out in New York Magazine, Nabokov was a perfectionist—he even wanted the original Lolita to be burned—who would not have been pleased by the prospect of strangers reading his scribbles. At the same time, The Original of Laura probably contributes to Nabokov’s reputation as a brilliant thinker who could piece together intricate plots by shuffling index cards. This fan, at least, is grateful for the opportunity to experience a Nabokov work in progress.