An autobiography in its entirety constitutes the complete cry of an earthly individual, within an intrinsically unified species, under the invincibles of universe. Gusdorf's “Conditions and Limits of Autobiography” grants this art form its place in the civilized intellectual world; the author ultimately distinguishes the literary genre by its difficult center: “the effort of a creator to give meaning to his own mythical narrative” (48). Wisely crediting the autobiography for the breadth of its possibilities for self-definition, Gusdorf assumes that it is the author's “struggle with the angel” (48) that merits attention; that the reader should not expect a mystical end of "ultimate and definitive authority... this dialogue of a life with itself in search of its own absolute" (48). Autobiography cannot be appreciated for its effectiveness in identifying the absolute properties of an individual; this artistic creation singularly kindles the fire of human virtue through the author's effort to find this eternal identity, and not necessarily its success --- the creator's artistic project of "bringing together the scattered elements of his own individual life and bring them together into a global whole. sketch” (35). The reader of autobiography commits a grave error by examining an author's effort at self-definition without first considering the impending finitude that each person seeks to overcome. This literary genre takes an honorable place among humankind, because it allows the reader and writer to embrace and escape death; the autobiographer deliberately creates a representation of his life and times, impulsively thwarts his own demise, and frees his soul from extinction. On this basis, the story of one man or woman becomes the story of all, and the certainty of future death engenders an indisputable unity among all those who live and breathe the air of individuality. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why violent video games should not be banned”? Get the original essay What Jean-Paul Sartre illuminates in his autobiography, Les Mots, is more deeply rooted than simply pointing out the truth at the moment of the death of a human being. Although some morbid oddities certainly exist in his manner of becoming "completely posthumous" (199), Sartre intrigues the reader into understanding that every minor action has a distinct epic essence, every movement fully truthful when taken in context. of individual lives as a whole, and therefore, in the context of human finitude: “This is not surprising: in a life that is finished, the end is considered as the truth of the beginning” (200). What is eerily accurate about Sartre's prophecy about his childhood is that he actually became very influential posthumously and for this very manner of acting as if his life was already over. Because of this truth, it is difficult to decipher the value or error involved in his view of death. As he describes the meticulous process of trying to "live backwards" (199), it becomes clear that in light of the expected failures of this strategy, he nevertheless chose this path as a child, and unaware of its psychological repercussions. He lives posthumously, solemnly noting, “always before or after the impossible vision which would have revealed me to myself” (208). He lives in anticipation of his posthumous distinction, with the goal of greatness in mind and with the somewhat strange realization that he can decide his own destiny by submitting entirely to the trust of adults. Jean-Paul believes that adults somehow have the capacity to foresee his end, and he thus lives asif he filled little by little the autobiographical pages of a great man already dead. It is interesting to note that he swears not to live in a "state of error" (204): he will not make the slightest move without premeditating the end of his personal life, realizing that at this apocalyptic moment, everything in his life will have disappeared. meant something. In a sober and well-founded conclusion, Sartre advances: “Since I lost the chance to die unknown, I sometimes flatter myself that I will be misunderstood during my lifetime” (254). In his inability to “meet face to face” (207), he finds weary comfort in the idea that his death will bring about his true recognition; since he cannot recognize himself, he spends his life becoming his "own obituary" (206), in the hopes of being able to catch the person from whom he will soon be known as emanating. But more importantly, Sartre resolves that this way of living “has not [raised] him above anyone” (255), and he thus finds himself to be the very example of someone who fights only for earthly immortality: “All one man, composed of all men and as good as all and no better than none” (255). Here, Jean-Paul sheds a sad light on the humiliating reality of autobiographical writing, with the quest for what is definitive enough to be immortalized ultimately becoming a conclusive but limited statement of human interconnectedness. The concept that Vladimir Nabokov places at the center of his fiction. the biography, The Real Life of Sebastian Knight, goes beyond the plot of mere “reality”; In this novel, Nabokov offers particular insight into an autobiographer's shared identity, as V.'s promise to capture the "reality" of the deceased Sebastian reflects an autobiographer's investigation, seeking the truth of self who will soon have physically disappeared. . This author's portrayal of one person's history on earth is importantly titled to signify the "real life" of Sebastian Knight, suggesting that the narrator is correcting a false rumor. Nabokov associates the delicacy and unpredictability of a bird in flight with his notion of "reality" – at least to the extent that Sebastian Knight's "reality" is and is not conveyed in this book. But can the true essence of a person be better captured in an autobiography than in another person's novel, or in a messy unraveling of different points of view and varying emotional accounts of Sebastian Knight's true likeness? Nabokov intentionally gives V.'s character a predictable frustration so that the reader can understand the difficult and futile task of communicating another's true identity. The narrator's description of "something real" (32) as being "something with wings and a heart" (32) seems to be an easily – and excessively – romanticized idea, and feeds the suspicion of the reader that little will come out of the description of primordial events and touching and inaccurate memories. A satirical note of Nabokov comes through in these narrative words, suggesting that what is real captures only the fleeting beauty of a bird, for "reality" will slip through the fingers as easily as if it had wings to fly away upon contact. The suggestion that something real must be something so quick sets the tone for autobiography as well as biography; the difficulties that V2E will encounter in its efforts to discover Sebastian, and thus Sebastian's own absence, will reflect the apparent wariness of this separate autobiographical self to be sought, if the "real life" Sebastian in fact embodies a thing with wings and a heart. One of the most compelling arguments V. makes is found in his reflection on the mysterious character of Sebastian, stating: "...as was often the case with him, the 'whys' of his behaviorwere so many X's, I often find their meaning. revealed now in a subconscious turn of this or that sentence written by me” (34). Such statements suggest that Nabokov pulls the strings of a puppet-narrator, V., and that V. pulls the strings of his puppet-narrator, Sebastian; the reader can find in these words insight into both Sebastian's intrinsic absence and the half-brother's current naivety in his hope of defining a self that is never fully visible. The psyches of these individuals, when considered as the function of two different souls, may in fact be linked, but that does not stop the narrator from being curiously seduced, perhaps deceived, by the dark exterior and Sebastian's pure and simple distance. V. searches for meaning with the "whys" and encounters so many "X's" --- letters of the English language, references to Sebastian's literary identity, signs ordering the narrator to turn away, "X" preventing him in his search for answers. Through the generosity of the brother who praises Sebastian's literary talent and V.'s hesitation to rise to this high pedestal, Nabokov mocks the very genre of autobiography in general. The fact that the narrator's curious attention to the essence of his brother is based more on what he does not know than on what he knows about Sebastian leaves the reader pondering the full extent of Nabokov's message: the Sébastien's life is really no different, intrinsically, from that of his brother. any other; that the narrator has no less talent as a writer than Sébastien; that Sébastien, too, took up his pen “hypnotized by the perfect glory of a short story” (35); finally, V.'s only real flaw, compared to Sebastian's plot, is that V. isn't dead yet. Sebastian is, in fact, dead, tantalizingly out of reach, and his remaining writings are fermenting as are the dark vestiges of his artistic ambition, made triumphant in the hands of an emotionally devoted biographer who struggles to discover his own immortality as much as he does. Sebastian's true identity. Unsurprisingly, Nabokov climacticly concludes his novel with a scene conveyed entirely through the use of descriptive language. It is interesting to note that not only does V. state, "So, I am Sebastian Knight" (205), but he goes on to say, "I feel like I'm impersonating him on a lit stage, with the people he knew who came and went. " (205). Clearly, Nabokov arrived at several difficult paradoxes in his search for the truth about identity. While "the soul is only a way of being" (204), "n 'any soul can be yours' (204), V. asserts. Nabokov's narrator reveals more than a hint of authenticity in the act of impersonation with V.'s attempt throughout. of writing to capture Sebastian's mind, he discovers that the very gesture of "playing Sebastian" (205) is the truth in itself Although the reader may consider that impersonation cannot in any way; embodying a "real life", Nabokov argues that an actor presented on a lit stage is the closest thing to the truth that can be found. The author of The Real Life of Sebastian Knight constructs a revelation at the. end of his detective novel, and a revelation that is paradoxical only insofar as it claims that reality is purely real in its clarifying darkness --- the darkness that every soul shares, relates to and struggles to get to. gets to the bottom of whether or not Nabokov's maze leads anywhere other than its confusing beginning. More importantly, what V. or Sebastian recognizes is that "the afterlife can be the full capacity to live in any chosen soul, in any number of souls" (204). , and what readers of Nabokov must recognize., 1964.