ANNE! The way the vinyl unfolds.

I knew one day this would come in handy.

I don’t know these buildings. I think I am lost. Would you be good enough to take me home?

Don’t mind me, just self-soothing.

They almost let me get away with making Nabokov the “final word” on the Trinity. So close!

Must-read article, and what a photo of Zelenskyy.

Let’s dissolve the band, move to Idaho.

My dream home and after more than five years they’re still not done. And then that view. Kill me.

Aesthetic bliss, as Nabokov might say.

Based on my award-winning dissertation, my first book—And Then Nothing: Remapping Literature and Theology in Vladimir Nabokov’s Pale Fire—is now *forthcoming* from Cascade Books series in philosophical theology and theory, Veritas.

TFW you and your buddy are on the same wavelength.

Honestly tho.

I am absolutely elated beyond belief to share that the International Vladimir Nabokov Society has awarded my PhD dissertation, “A Triptych of Bottomless Light: Repetition, Originality & Transcendence in Nabokov’s Pale Fire,” the 2024 Zoran Kuzmanovich Prize! thenabokovian.org/news/2024-iv...

The best part is being the one religion and literature person at a religion or literature conference and the other thing gets brought up. “You’re assuming the other thing is stable and we really have no idea what the fuck is going on.”

Nine years ago today, I wore monk straps.

From Vladimir Nabokov’s 1938 short story, “Tyrants Destroyed.”

I’ve always assumed that here, in Michelangelo’s “Creation of Man,” that God is reaching out his hand to Adam, but now I think the divine touch has already occurred, that what we see here is the divine withdrawal, as Adam is already animate, already dying.

I’m not crying, you’re crying. This, by Daniel Adam Lightsey, from the inaugural issue of the Northwestern University Studies in Russian Philosophy, Literature, and Religious Thought, titled “Le style c’est l’homme: Sergii Bulgakov, Vladimir Nabokov, & the Artist’s Podvig.”

Antony of Egypt. Because of the ways he is changed by and changes with the artists he captivated—most notably his literacy. Also, modern fiction after Flaubert, from him to Morrison, is utterly unthinkable without Antony’s strange intercession.