I oscillate between loathing Vladimir Nabokov 's novels (when I think he's showing off or insisting on making his presence felt) and loving them. This morning, I can't stand a word of his fiction. But Nabokov's Letters to Vera is not fiction. The showing off, such as there is, is that of a man to his lover, whose absence is felt. The fact that these are the words—such beautiful words—of a writer to his beloved of more than 46 years readies you for the spirit of sincerity in which they were written. Besides, I'm a sucker for a love story.

"12 Months of Reading", Who read what in 2014, December 13, 2014 Who is Reading what in 2014 13 December 2014 "The Wall Street Journal". Retrieved on 2014-12-20.