It was the world that was absent-minded and it was Pnin whose business it was to set it straight. His life was a constant war with insensate objects that fell apart, or attacked him, or refused to function, or viciously got themselves lost as soon as they entered the sphere of his existence.
As usual, sterile instructors successfully endeavored to “produce” by reviewing the books of more fertile colleagues,
本来没明白 sterile 在这里是什么意思,看到后面的 fertile 笑晕了。