This book is not only translated, but Nabokov also made changes to the novel when finalizing the translation decades after the original was written, so analyzing it as a chronological step forward from his first novel is somewhat compromised. It does seem clear though that Nabokov's prose style has taken a leap forward towards that famously clever Nabokovian wordplay. The prose is definitely the star of the show here, as the story - part love triangle, part Raskolnikov-ish inner torment of a character involved in murder, part allegory of Weimar Germany - is a bit underwhelming.

In fact, the best bit of the book, I'd claim, is the following sex scene, which I believe is the first time I've ever thought that of a novel:

Now the room was empty. Objects lay, stood, sat, hung in the carefree postures man-made things adopt in man's absence. The mock crocodile lay on the floor. A blue-tinted cork, which had been recently removed from a small ink bottle when a fountain pen had to be refilled, hesitated for an instant, then rolled in a semi-circle to the edge of the oilcloth-covered table, hesitated again, and jumped off. With the help of the lashing rain the wind tried to open the window but failed. In the rickety wardrobe a blue black-spotted tie slithered off its twig like a snake. A paperback novelette on the chest-of-drawers left open at Chapter Five skipped several pages.

Suddenly the looking glass made a signal - a warning gleam. It reflected a bluish armpit and a lovely bare arm. The arm stretched - and fell back lifeless. Slowly, the bed returned to Berlin from Eden.

Okay, the "Eden" is a bit overmuch, I'd have ended that concluding sentence after "Berlin", that's enough, but still: that's hot. ( )

«Este fogoso animal es la más alegre de mis novelas», dijo Nabokov de "Rey, Dama, Valet", una sátira en la que un jovencito miope, provinciano, mojigato y desprovisto de sentido del humor irrumpe en el frío paraíso de un matrimonio de nuevos ricos berlineses. La esposa seduce al recién llegado y le convierte en su amante. Poco después le convence para intentar eliminar al marido. Éste es el aparentemente sencillo planteamiento de la más clásica, quizá, de las novelas escritas por Nabokov. Pero, tras esa aparente ortodoxia se oculta una notable complejidad técnica, y, sobre todo, un tratamiento singular presidido por el tono de farsa.

Probably one of my favorite novels by Nabokov. I loved the character Dreyer, his curiosity and delight in the world. ( )

2020

https://www.librarything.com/topic/315313#7080923

Someone remarked to me of The Goldfinch, “I like it, but it doesn’t call to me.” That looks a little precious on the page, but it’s exactly how I felt about King, Queen, Knave: each time I picked it up, I noted things in the margins like “A !” and “perfect.” The first few pages of Chapter 8, in which the Queen begins “teaching” the Knave, is as good as anything I’ve read all year. But I didn’t look as forward to picking it up after the first 100 pages as I have with other books.

As the title suggests, the novel depicts a love triangle, a common enough occurrence (in literature, anyway) that it has its own shorthand term. Like The Postman Always Rings Twice, the young suitor (Franz) supplies the bored wife (Martha) with what she needs and the two conspire to do away with what they think is their one impediment to happiness (Dreyer). But how the plot unravels (usually the reason for turning the pages of these kind of novels) isn’t as important to the reader (or Nabokov) as having fun with the characters’ lack of imaginations. In books like Postman, the characters are often too smart for their own good; here, they don’t know what in the world to do:

“Help me, Franz, oh, help me,” she would murmur sometimes, shaking him by the shoulders.
His eyes were totally submissive behind their well-wiped lenses. However, he could not think of anything. His imagination was at her command; it was ready to work for her, but it was she who had to give his fancy its impulse and food.

Franz is the aspiring artist with a lazy muse. Of course, the plan doesn’t go as he and Martha think it will, but the denouement is a bit flat and I closed the book glad that I had read it but not ready to shout about it from the rooftops. If you like Nabokov, it’s worth a read. (PS--More than once, I was reminded of Thomas Berger’s Sneaky People, a book that resembles this one in structure and tone.)
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