Book Review: Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

What's this? A book review? I read books? When did this happen?

As small and insignificant as this review probably is, I will begin nonetheless. Between the semesters of school and the works of art, I do enjoy the occasional read. While I was making my round-about in christmas shopping I came across Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita. Being a fan of Stanley Kubrick and his features, it was not because of this association that instantly drew me in, (A movie I still need to see unfortunately). It was, however, the short and charasmatic prelude Nabokov gives the reader,

"Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita".

Beautiful, Vigourous, and Profoundly Confident; Nabokov wets our appetite to what becomes an ultimately fullfilling novel of unrestrained love. With no preconcieved notion that this book was indeed about a pedophile's obssession over a nymph, I began reading Humbert Humbert's earliest memoirs as if I was reading an innocent tale of young love. The tale of his first love, Annabel, is aesthetically enriched by Nobokov's passionate descriptions and minute details. Humbert Humbert reveals to the reader that the love felt for Annabel would eventually see itself reincarnated again within the 12 year old nymph Lolita.

It took me a second, and then a reassuring thought, that I was indeed reading a story of a Pedophile. I felt like a fool. Honestly. How could I of not known that before. Six chapters in and Nabokov already had me in a state of curiousity. Completely dissolved into Humbert's character, I moved on into the text with continuous restraint but also with complete satisfaction. As I moved past Humbert's pre-Lolita relationships, a sleek and predominant anticipation grew within me; I couldn't wait for Lolita.

One of the most interesting aspects of this book, that I found completely baffeling, was after the introductions of Lolita and her mother Charlotte, I could not pinpoint a character worthy of an empathetic emotion. None of them clearly stand out as the "innocent". A smart move by Nabokov. By keeping Lolita as a shallow projection with a "brat-like" personality I wasn't completely connected with the character as I thought I would be. Therefore when the controversial chapters arise, I'm not thinking about the morally wrong deeds taking place more than I am thinking of the actual infatuation Humbert has with the little nymph. Kinda fucked up right?

But here is the thing. Was there a victim in this whole relationship? Not really, No.

Yeah okay, one could defintely make the argument that Lolita was indeed imprisioned by Humbert's sexual fantasies, but not once was I completely convinced that she was trapped. Nabokov makes Humbert out as a pretentious prick dumbed down by his aching needs for instant gratification. His pleasures blind him of the actual situation at hand. Humbert actually self-reflects and admits his regretable ignorance toward Lolita's emotions. She was indeed just pure aesthetics to him. A conjured work of masterful art. Nabokov keeps this ideal present through the whole novel focusing on detailed descriptions of limbs, skin tones, lips, and other substantial parts a human being would find intimately attractive.

We get these small delicate descriptions with towns and settings as well, alluding to the fact that we are indeed following Humbert Humbert through a haze of grotesque obession, which eventually leads to a confrontation between a post-nymph Lolita and a surrogate shape of himself within the confines of a sexual predator Quilty.

Humbert Humbert is not a sexual predator, nor is he a pedophile in this case. It is love, true love, that warrants it. Relying on historic refrences and keeping in mind the sensitivities of the reader, Nabokov creates a well-rounded character in Humbert Humbert that keeps infatuation and appreciation the forefronting themes of the novel. Sure he is a prick and could definitely be veiwed as a monster, but he is also a fucking good poet. A delight to read, but an even more delight to step out of the sentences and behold the beautiful piece of art one holds in their hands. Humbert Humbert reassures this notion,

"I am thinking of aurochs and angels, the secret of durable pigments, prophetic sonnets, the refuge of art. And this is the only immortality you and I may share, my Lolita."

Again, I am not a book-reviewer. Forgive me for inproper punctuation and my shortcoming interpretations.

It is just a fucking blog ha.