Vladimir Nabokov's last novel, published in 1974, three years before his death, Look, look at the Harlequins! is the misleading transparency of autobiography: that of a certain Vadim Vadimovitch, Russian emigre writer who, having reached the threshold of old age, talks about his life, his career and his work through his relationships with "three or four women" he espoused successivement.La Riviera of the Twenties and his gilded youth, immigrants and the Paris of his conspirators, American academia, and its liberal snobs, a hotel in Leningrad, in the sixties, with its muscular floor minders, a Swiss lake postcard picturesque and treacherous, as the backdrop to a drama contrasting episodes, which arise, shimmer and disappear in turn the themes nabokoviens - from harlequins greet one last time before the curtain falls.