Annotations by Alexey Sklyarenko

In Canto One of his poem John Shade (the poet in VN's novel Pale Fire, 1962) describes a winter morning and mentions a pheasant's footprints in the snow: 

Retake the falling snow: each drifting flake

Shapeless and slow, unsteady and opaque,

A dull dark white against the day's pale white

And abstract larches in the neutral light.

And then the gradual and dual blue

As night unites the viewer and the view,

And in the morning, diamonds of frost

Express amazement: Whose spurred feet have crossed

In Canto One of his poem John Shade (the poet in VN's novel Pale Fire, 1962) describes a winter morning and mentions a pheasant's footprints in the snow: 

Retake the falling snow: each drifting flake

Shapeless and slow, unsteady and opaque,

A dull dark white against the day's pale white

And abstract larches in the neutral light.

And then the gradual and dual blue

As night unites the viewer and the view,

And in the morning, diamonds of frost

Express amazement: Whose spurred feet have crossed

In Canto One of his poem John Shade (the poet in VN's novel Pale Fire, 1962) describes a winter morning and mentions a pheasant's footprints in the snow: 

Retake the falling snow: each drifting flake

Shapeless and slow, unsteady and opaque,

A dull dark white against the day's pale white

And abstract larches in the neutral light.

And then the gradual and dual blue

As night unites the viewer and the view,

And in the morning, diamonds of frost

Express amazement: Whose spurred feet have crossed

In Canto One of his poem John Shade (the poet in VN's novel Pale Fire, 1962) describes a winter morning and mentions a pheasant's footprints in the snow: 

Retake the falling snow: each drifting flake

Shapeless and slow, unsteady and opaque,

A dull dark white against the day's pale white

And abstract larches in the neutral light.

And then the gradual and dual blue

As night unites the viewer and the view,

And in the morning, diamonds of frost

Express amazement: Whose spurred feet have crossed

In the last days of May (presumably, on May 28) 1947 thirty-seven-year-old Humbert Humbert (the narrator and main character in VN's novel Lolita, 1955) comes to Ramsdale (a small town in New England), falls in love with twelve-year-old Dolores Haze (Lolita's full name) and, a month later, marries Lolita's mother Charlotte. Ramsdale brings to mind Fuenteovejuna ("The Sheep Well," 1619), a play by the Spanish playwright Lope de Vega (1562-1635).

Describing his travels with Rita, Humbert Humbert (the narrator and main character in VN's novel Lolita, 1955) mentions a blond, almost albino, young fellow with white eyelashes and large transparent ears, whom he and Rita found sleeping in their bed:

At the end of May 1947 thirty-seven-year-old Humbert Humbert (the narrator and main character in VN's novel Lolita, 1955) comes to Ramsdale (a small town in New England) and falls in love with twelve-year-old Dolores Haze. According to John Ray, Jr. (the author of the foreword to Humbert Humbert's manuscript), Humbert Humbert had died in legal captivity, of coronary thrombosis, on November 16, 1952, a few days before his trial was scheduled to start:

Describing his travels with Rita in 1950-1952, Humbert Humbert (the narrator and main character in VN’s novel Lolita, 1955) mentions Rita’s brother, the mayor and boaster of Grainball:

During her second road trip with Humbert Humbert (the narrator and main character in VN's novel Lolita, 1955) across the USA, Lolita falls ill and on Tuesday, 28 June 1949, is hospitalized in Elphinstone (a small town in the Rocky Mountains). At the Elphinstone hospital nurse Mary Lore calls Lolita (born Dolores Haze) by her first name:

Describing his stay at Silver Spur Court in Elphinstone (a small town in the Rocky Mountains where Lolita falls ill and is hospitalized on Tuesday, June 28, 1949), Humbert Humbert (the narrator and main character in VN’s novel Lolita, 1955) mentions big Frank (the landlady' beau, a robust and kindly trucker):

I heard the sound of whistling lips nearing the half-opened door of my cabin, and then a thump upon it.

It was big Frank. He remained framed in the opened door, one hand on its jamb, leaning forward a little.