"Mary" serves as a poignant exploration of the lives of Russian emigres, particularly through the lens of its protagonist, Ganin. Critics often interpret the novel's titular character, Mary, as a symbol of Russia itself, while Ganin and his fellow emigres represent those Russians who find themselves permanently exiled from their homeland. Ganin's past, marked by his involvement in the anti-Bolshevik efforts in Crimea in 1919, underscores a longing to reclaim a Russia that has irrevocably slipped away. His eventual renunciation of Mary can be understood as an acceptance of the loss of the old czarist Russia, acknowledging its disappearance into the annals of history.

Yet, confining the novel to this symbolic reading alone overlooks the depth and richness inherent in Nabokov's work. "Mary" is more than just a novel about lost Russia; it is a vivid portrayal of the emigre experience in the 1920s, capturing the essence of lives caught in a liminal space, often dominated by uncertainty and a sense of disconnection. Nabokov’s skillful depiction of secondary characters, with their delicate vulnerabilities and existential aimlessness, hints at the literary mastery that would later define his career. In "Mary," Nabokov deftly balances this personal and collective narrative, creating a tapestry that is both intimate and expansive, resonating with themes of loss, identity, and the elusive nature of home.

The theme of Old Russia weaves subtly through Mary, serving as an evocative backdrop to Ganin's poignant journey into the annals of his past. This theme, while minor, enriches Ganin's nostalgic exploration, highlighting his transformation from an innocent lover to a man who grapples with the inevitable loss of a cherished past. As he relives these tender memories, Ganin comes to a mature understanding that, no matter how idyllic those times may seem, the past is irretrievable and exists solely as memory. This realization underscores the impossibility of returning home, both physically and emotionally, marking a bittersweet acceptance of reality.

In Nabokov’s novel, the use of symbolic motifs and patterns is both a defining characteristic and a somewhat transparent aspect of his storytelling. The narrative opens with a scene of two men in darkness—a metaphor for their shared, yet unknown, closeness. This motif of concealed connections weaves its way through the story, culminating in Ganin's choice to forego a reunion with Mary. Instead, he observes carpenters constructing a new building, a symbol of fresh beginnings and the potential for personal growth.

Ganin’s decision to journey south further underscores themes of renewal and rejuvenation. This direction carries with it connotations of warmth and revitalization, suggesting a personal transformation as he moves toward a life unburdened by the past. Set in April, the novel is steeped in imagery of spring—the season of rebirth—which serves as a fitting backdrop for the refugees within the story. Each character grapples with the desire to start anew, mirroring the renewal seen in the burgeoning plant life within the city. These elements intertwine to create a vivid landscape where the past and the potential for regeneration coexist, emphasizing the characters' struggles and aspirations as they seek to redefine their lives.

Nabokov masterfully captures the essence of hopelessness, ennui, and a subtle, limp angst among a group of admirably civilized outcasts. This portrayal evokes the Chekhovian exploration of prerevolutionary Russians, who struggled to find meaning amid self-pity and fecklessness. In this setting, Ganin stands out as a figure attempting to break free. Unlike his peers, he sheds the enfeebling confines of the pension and, more significantly, the weight of the past. In a bold move, Ganin chooses to abandon his old identities, shunning the need for a passport or visa. This act of defiance embodies a quest for renewal, a rejection of former constraints in pursuit of a liberated existence.