Most people who like to read know who Vladimir Nabokov was. Until this book, almost no one had heard of Sergey Nabokov. Sergey was Vladimir’s brother, younger by only 11 months. Throughout childhood the stuttering Sergey stood in the shadow of his charismatic brother, largely ignored by parents that had two children too close together. He was gay, something that his famous brother was not happy with. Born in Russia in 1900, his early life was one of comfortable wealth but uncomfortable emotions. All too soon, the Russian Revolution scattered his family and destroyed the wealth, leaving Sergey with only his talent for languages to fall back on. He eked out a bare living by giving language lessons and doing translations. Despite his poverty, his life was rich in artistic acquaintances- Cocteau, Diaghilev, Stein, Toklas, poets and dancers and composers were among his friends and lovers. Eventually, he died in a Nazi concentration camp, having committed the two crimes of being gay and speaking out against the Nazi régime.

This book is a novel, not a biography although it is very well researched. Sergey speaks to us in first person, alternating between telling us of his youth and the tense days that build up to his arrest by the Nazis. He comes across as an appealing man, one who craves the love of his family and a stable relationship. While possessing no great talents himself, he loved the avant garde art that was current in Europe at the time, giving up food to be able to attend shows. The book is a marvelous look at the art crowd, with all its foibles and flamboyance. Sergey’s search for happiness, which eludes him for so many years before finally being rewarded, is all the more poignant for knowing that it will end all too soon. ( )