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Vladimir Nabokov

Russian-american novelist, lepidopterist, professor.

Born April 22nd, 1899 in Saint Petersburg. [ref]

Died July 2nd, 1977 at 78 years old in Montreux (disease). [ref]

Occupations
autobiographer, chess composer, chess player, journalist, lepidopterist, literary critic, novelist, playwright, poet, science fiction writer, screenwriter, translator, university teacher, writer, zoologist
Wikipedia

Vladimir Nabokov, renowned Russian-American novelist, poet, and literary critic, passed away on July 2, 1977. He was 78 years old. Born in St. Petersburg, Russia on April 23, 1899, to an upper-class family, Nabokov's life was marked by affluence and culture. One of the most influential literary figures of the twentieth century, Nabokov was a master of many languages and the author of several literary works, such as Lolita, Invitation to a Beheading, Pale Fire, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight, and Speak, Memory. Each of these works is celebrated for its intricate wordplay, its technical sophistication, and its vivid storytelling. As one of the few authors to achieve success in both Russian and English, Nabokov's works were praised around the world for their insight and nuance. He taught at Cornell University beginning in 1948 and left behind a tremendous legacy of academic and literary accomplishment. He was married twice, first to Vera Slonim from 1925 to the time of her death in 1945 and, secondly, to Véra Evseyevna in 1948 until his death. Despite leaving his family and home country during the Russian Revolution, Nabokov's appreciation for Russian language and culture was consistently evident in his work. Awarded numerous accolades for multiple works, Nabokov's memory is secured among the world’s greatest writers. The works he leaves behind are a lasting reminder of his genius and influence on literature.

Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is just a passing shadow of a cloud. Yann Martel