I'm afraid that this posting is likely to be similar to some of my others, late and overlong. Hopefully it won't bore.
An earlier posting of mine, THOUGHTS: the need for climax in Canto 4, tried, mainly, to make the point that Shade's Litany of Loathes should be read with manic rage, and thus serve as an emotional climax to the poem. Kinbote, in his commentary to the opening lines of Canto 4 is a bit equivocal on this point. 

Actually, the promise made in these four lines will not be really kept except for the repetition of their incantatory rhythm in lines 915 and 923-924 (leading to the savage attack in 925-930). The poet like a fiery rooster seems to flap his wings in a preparatory burst of would-be inspiration, but the sun does not rise. Instead of the wild poetry promised here, we get a jest or two, a bit of satire, and at the end of the canto, a wonderful radiance of tenderness and repose.

Thus it could be said that Kinbote finds Canto 4, on the whole, anti-climatic; yet singles out Shade's Litany of Loathes (lines 925-930) as a savage attack. This is the passage that I maintain should be read with great animation, and thus serve as a climax, albeit satiric and ironic; and is supportive of the notion that Shade is mad. In gliding over this Kinbote may be forced by VN to diminish how passionate Shade becomes so as not to reveal too greatly this discoverable joke. 

But most of the list seemed to prefer to move on to the end of the poem and discuss its significance, namely the fact that it doesn't end in a complete couplet, and that the last line rhymes with the first. Kinbote, of course, points this out in his foreword: 

Nay, I shall even assert (as our shadows still walk without us) that there remained to be written only one line of the poem (namely verse 1000) which would have been identical to line 1 and would have completed the symmetry of the structure, with its two identical central parts, solid and ample, forming together with the shorter flanks twin wings of five hundred verses each, and damn that music. Knowing Shade's combinatorial turn of mind and subtle sense of harmonic balance, I cannot imagine that he intended to deform the faces of his crystal by meddling with its predictable growth. And if all this were not enough--and it is, it is enough--I have had the dramatic occasion of hearing my poor friend's own voice proclaim on the evening of July 21 the end, or almost the end, of his labors. (See my note to line 991.)

The most relevant part of that note is:

"Well," I said, "has the muse been kind to you?"
"Very kind," he replied, slightly bowing his hand-propped head: "Exceptionally kind and gentle. In fact, I have here [indicating a huge pregnant envelope near him on the oilcloth] practically the entire product. A few trifles to settle and [suddenly striking the table with his fist] I've swung it, by God."

This seems to leave the matter largely up in the air. Kinbote is, as usual, useful, or unreliable, or ironic, depending upon VN's mood or needs; or the reader's. 

Gwynn stands Kinbote's symmetry argument on its head, arguing the poem is more symmetric without line 1000, and marks Hazel's death, line 500, as the center piece of the poem.
Stadlen doesn't seem to feel that the fact that the last line of the poem rhymes with the first draws the reader's attention to the first line, thus making the poem circular.
Gwynn goes on to say the ending signifies a lack of conclusiveness as regards Shade's investigations of an afterlife.
Stadlen agrees with Gwynn that it's for the reader to complete the couplet, [as] he or she is so inclined.
Friedman agrees with Kinbote that the poem is incomplete, but for him Shade's death and survival renders it sensible in a way that it otherwise is not.
Johnson, agreeing with Gwynn, says the missing final line (1000) ... mark[s] the ultimate indeterminacy of the afterlife issue?
Pierce writes that the missing last line function[s]  to allow... Kinbote a "way in." 
Haan writes ... Pierce's observation of the "missing" line as Kinbote's "way in" neatly compensates [complements?] the added escape square which affords Kinbote a "way out": ... Iris Acht (d. 1888), ... seen as ... Iris Eight, i.e., i8 (or eye-8), in chess notation referring to a square just off the 8x8 board (which only goes up to h8);

I guess I would say I find the final line(s) even more anti-climatic than most members of the list do. All this seems like much ado about, well, literally, nothing; and perhaps a gambit set for the reader who seeks some higher meaning in VN's confection.

I, like Pierce, see mainly functionalism, but not as a way of allowing Kinbote in. Kinbote's been in since the first page of his foreword. I don't see that having the first line repeated at the end of the poem renders Kinbote, and his continuance in his commentary, in any significant way foreclosed, or even awkward. The story goes on pretty much the same in either case.

First let me say I find the poem ending half-closed; for only half of a couplet is present. Yet there is in Shade's pronouncements about Hazel's survival, and about the structure of the universe, a definitiveness that sounds like a life's summation, and hence a premonition of doom, and thus a sense of semantic closure, and therefore half-closed. 

I see three functional objectives that the ambiguous, half-closed, ending fulfills: closurecontinuancecircularity.

Closure: the desire for the poem to end in a way that sounds complete when recited. This assumes that VN intended the poem as a stand-alone piece worthy of recital. For those who find the poem merely a plot device and not worth reciting, this function presumably rings a little hollow.
Continuance: the desire for the poem to serve as an introduction to Kinbote's commentary read consecutively, as most readers probably do, as a regular novel.
Circularity: the desire, as in Joyce's Finnegans Wake, for the reader to return to the beginning of the work again, or at least consider doing so.

Repeating line 1 as line 1,000 renders the poem's sense of closure more complete, and may make its seem less attached to the following commentary. This doesn't change things much as regards closure or continuance.
But repeating the line significantly affects the poem's sense of formal circularity. The reader has considerably less reason to consider returning to the start of the poem and rereading (which is probably more of a gesture than an actual practice).
So what is lost in this? 
Shade's life, all said, is an experience; so the progress made from line 1 to line 999 surely accounts for something. 
The reader may be back at square one, but his understanding is surely different.
For the reader who believes that Shade metamorphoses into Kinbote, though, something special is lost. For that reader can imagine, in reading the poem a second time, that it is not Shade but Kinbote who, having just inherited the set of index cards from the disposed Shade, is now saying the poem for the first time, and beginning to form his eccentric explications of its sometimes ambiguous content. 
And indeed Kinbote can, in his own way, identify with the opening line, I was the shadow of the waxwing slain; as Kinbote can be viewed as Shade's shadow.

Commodiously yours,
–GSL

ps:
I like Haan's discovery: Iris Acht = I8?!
Wikipedia <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chess_notation> gives that algebraic chess notation has been in use in some regions since the early 1800s[,] Descriptive chess notation, English notation or English descriptive notation...[u]ntil the 1970s, at least in English-speaking countries.
I8, of course, would be algebraic notation. 
Most readers, even those who were chess players, would probably never of made Haan's discovery in 1962, but that doesn't mean that this wasn't VN's intent. I suspect it was. Nevertheless it would be interesting to know if the chess problems VN composed [while in Germany] were set down in algebraic or descriptive notation. 
Perhaps some better-off member of the list might bid on the set of sketches of these chess problems that have only just recently been put up for auction at Christie's, and thus help clarify this issue. Such an investment would surely be better than wasting one's money on stocks.

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pps:
For those interested in a summary of the last-line correspondence:

On May 5, 2010, at 10:59 PM, R S Gwynn wrote:

As I've said before, the omission of the last line by Shade (and the "last" line is probably the first) is part of the poem's clearly symmetrical structure.  Leaving off this line this would make line 500 the central line of 999 (only in a poem with an odd number of lines can there be a central line).  This line the marks Hazel's death, and Hazel's death is clearly the "center" of the poem.

On May 8, 2010, at 1:31 AM, Anthony Stadlen wrote:

This is a non-sequitur. It answers the questions "Why would there have been a line 1000?" and "Why would line 1000 have been the last line?" It does not answer my question: << Why, why, why "presumably a repetition of the first line at the end"? >>
 
The poem appears symmetrical in certain respects. This no more proves line 1000 = line 1 than that line 999 = line 2. And the poem is not obviously circular or cyclical like Finnegans Wake.
 
As I said: << We have only Kinbote's word for it. Why should we accept it? He doesn't even claim Shade told him there would be such a repetition. As I pointed out last time round, the poem would read very oddly if it did in fact end with the first line. Was my instigation of the Great Competition on NABOKV-L to compose a last (not equal to first) line all in vain? >>
 
Perhaps the line would have been a despairing glance into the Abyss:

On May 8, 2010, at 2:25 PM, R S Gwynn wrote:

...  I think that JS fully intended to end at 999.  It's for the reader to complete the couplet, if he or she is so inclined. it would have been easy enough for JS to write the line if he'd wanted to.  Kinbote's supposition is as good as anyone's, as the choice of rhyme does send us back to the beginning.  I frankly think that all of JS's musings about the afterlife have brought him no resolution, only a "faint hope."  Thus, let the poem end without conclusion or say, essentially, "back to square one."

On May 8, 2010, at 6:36 PM, Anthony Stadlen wrote:

In a message dated 08/05/2010 21:29:30 GMT Daylight Time, Rsgwynn1@CS.COM writes:
  It's for the reader to complete the couplet, if he or she is so inclined
This was one of the possibilities I suggested, and indeed it was why I suggested the Great Competition. It could be JS's or VN's intention.

On May 10, 2010, at 6:18 PM, Jerry Friedman wrote:

Absolutely  His God died young.  He would have liked some kind of certainty, but what he found instead was a faint hope, described as such in a very deliberate anticlimax.  But he started with nothing but the skepticism and atheism of most intellectuals of his time (and probably ours still).  Reaching a reasonable certainty would feel tremendous.

To join the discussion of the last line, I think the simplest explanation is that at the time of Shade's death, he doesn't know what it is yet.  Presumably he wants to go back to the waxwing slain, but the precise wording is one of the details (maybe the only one) that Kinbote tells us Shade hasn't settled yet.  Then after he dies but survives, the original line makes sense it couldn't have in any other sequence of events: he became the part that lived on, flew on.

On May 12, 2010, at 10:27 PM, Don Johnson wrote:

...  Does it not seem apropos, that the missing final line (1000) is intended to mark the ultimate indeterminacy of the afterlife issue?  ... a fitting conclusion, no?

On May 14, 2010, at 7:17 AM, Anthony Stadlen wrote:

That is indeed what I have been trying to suggest.

On May 14, 2010, at 1:57 PM, Kerri Pierce wrote:

... I believe you also have to look at the function the missing last line fulfills in the novel as a whole... it allows Kinbote a "way in." 

On May 22, 2010, at 6:02 PM, Dave Haan wrote:

Kerri Pierce's observation of the "missing" line as Kinbote's "way in" neatly compensates the added escape square which affords Kinbote a "way out": King Alfin's old flame Iris Acht (d. 1888), may be seen as translating to Iris Eight, i.e., i8 (or eye-8), in chess notation referring to a square just off the 8x8 board (which only goes up to h8); her irisated photograph hangs above the trapdoor escape that King Charles/Kinbote ("a king-in-the-corner waiter of the solus rex type") uses to evade capture.
 
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