Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov
Lolita, by Vladimir Nabokov
Oh, do not scowl at me, reader. I do not intend to convey the impression that I did not manage to be happy. Reader must understand that in the possession and thralldom of a nymphet the enchanted traveler stands, as it were, beyond happiness. For there is no other bliss on earth comparable to that of fondling a nymphet. It is hors concours, that bliss, it belongs to another class, another plane of sensitivity. Despite our tiffs, despite her nastiness, despite all the fuss and faces she made, and the vulgarity, and the danger, and the horrible hopelessness of it all, I still dwelled deep in my elected paradise-a paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flames-but still a paradise.
Humbert Humbert is in a relationship with Lolita, and it’s complicated. I’m not much of a fan of statutory rape and had until now contented myself with the movie version as enough of a Lolita experience for me. This month, I was assigned the book for this project, and so I figured it was time to find out for myself if Nabokov’s modern classic was really good literature or just creepy. The answer is, of course, both. We are large, we contain multitudes.
In fact, the book has a wickedly perverse humor to it that appealed to my penchant for satire the same way Swift’s “modest proposal” that the impoverished Irish be encouraged to eat their children appealed; the same way a telling of the rise of Josef Stalin told in the style of the young hopeful trying to make it into show biz would appeal. Lolita would be a classic three-hanky romance novel but for the insurmountable detail that the “protagonist”, Humbert Humbert, is a narcissistic, personality-stunted pedophile.
Humbert, like many pathological predators, manages to make himself perversely likable, in large part because he presents himself to the reader (as opposed to those unfortunate enough to know him in the story), warts and all, without apology, and invites you to have fun watching his antics. It’s a technique used in many depictions of rogues, from George MacDonald Frasier’s Flashman series to Olivier’s portrayal of Richard III to Ian Richardson or Kevin Spacey in the British or American versions of House of Cards. Humbert is English, cultured, erudite and very articulate, and one can even sympathize with him, just a little, if...but, no. He is one of the most unreliable narrators in fiction, and so his claims of having been seduced by the 13 year old Dolores should be taken with several grains of salt. Similarly, people who make excuses for Humbert because of Lolita’s allegedly provocative behavior are asserting that Humbert is telling the whole truth, and that a preteen is more responsible for her behavior than a fully grown adult.
I liked the send-up of culture in post-WWII America. Toward the beginning of Part 2, Humbert and Dolores take a long road trip through America, the description of which includes a panoramic view of the sights and sounds to be found throughout the country in that age. That panorama may well be the best part of the book.
So yes, I recognize real literary merit in the book and encourage most of you to set aside disapproval and savor the wonderful irony and character study in Lolita. I say “most of you”, because if you’re triggered by pedophilia issues, this isn’t the book for you. It’s not the movie. The movie makes it ambiguous whether Humbert ever actually lays a finger on Dolores or whether he’s just obsessive about her. And Quilty, a major (and frightening) character in the movie, is barely a blip on the radar in the book until the final chapters. There is no such ambiguity in the book--there is sex, presented from Humbert’s frame of mind as if it were a wonderful, erotic expression between consenting adults. Highly recommended anyway.
Oh, do not scowl at me, reader. I do not intend to convey the impression that I did not manage to be happy. Reader must understand that in the possession and thralldom of a nymphet the enchanted traveler stands, as it were, beyond happiness. For there is no other bliss on earth comparable to that of fondling a nymphet. It is hors concours, that bliss, it belongs to another class, another plane of sensitivity. Despite our tiffs, despite her nastiness, despite all the fuss and faces she made, and the vulgarity, and the danger, and the horrible hopelessness of it all, I still dwelled deep in my elected paradise-a paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flames-but still a paradise.
Humbert Humbert is in a relationship with Lolita, and it’s complicated. I’m not much of a fan of statutory rape and had until now contented myself with the movie version as enough of a Lolita experience for me. This month, I was assigned the book for this project, and so I figured it was time to find out for myself if Nabokov’s modern classic was really good literature or just creepy. The answer is, of course, both. We are large, we contain multitudes.
In fact, the book has a wickedly perverse humor to it that appealed to my penchant for satire the same way Swift’s “modest proposal” that the impoverished Irish be encouraged to eat their children appealed; the same way a telling of the rise of Josef Stalin told in the style of the young hopeful trying to make it into show biz would appeal. Lolita would be a classic three-hanky romance novel but for the insurmountable detail that the “protagonist”, Humbert Humbert, is a narcissistic, personality-stunted pedophile.
Humbert, like many pathological predators, manages to make himself perversely likable, in large part because he presents himself to the reader (as opposed to those unfortunate enough to know him in the story), warts and all, without apology, and invites you to have fun watching his antics. It’s a technique used in many depictions of rogues, from George MacDonald Frasier’s Flashman series to Olivier’s portrayal of Richard III to Ian Richardson or Kevin Spacey in the British or American versions of House of Cards. Humbert is English, cultured, erudite and very articulate, and one can even sympathize with him, just a little, if...but, no. He is one of the most unreliable narrators in fiction, and so his claims of having been seduced by the 13 year old Dolores should be taken with several grains of salt. Similarly, people who make excuses for Humbert because of Lolita’s allegedly provocative behavior are asserting that Humbert is telling the whole truth, and that a preteen is more responsible for her behavior than a fully grown adult.
I liked the send-up of culture in post-WWII America. Toward the beginning of Part 2, Humbert and Dolores take a long road trip through America, the description of which includes a panoramic view of the sights and sounds to be found throughout the country in that age. That panorama may well be the best part of the book.
So yes, I recognize real literary merit in the book and encourage most of you to set aside disapproval and savor the wonderful irony and character study in Lolita. I say “most of you”, because if you’re triggered by pedophilia issues, this isn’t the book for you. It’s not the movie. The movie makes it ambiguous whether Humbert ever actually lays a finger on Dolores or whether he’s just obsessive about her. And Quilty, a major (and frightening) character in the movie, is barely a blip on the radar in the book until the final chapters. There is no such ambiguity in the book--there is sex, presented from Humbert’s frame of mind as if it were a wonderful, erotic expression between consenting adults. Highly recommended anyway.