Lolita – Vladimir Nabokov

So I just finished reading Lolita. I was slightly disturbed – not only by the story line, but by the fact that I pretty much devoured the novel.

Why, I asked myself, was I so interested in paedophilia (if it can be considered that) and why was I siding with the paedophile?

To make things worse, I was, the whole time, imagining our precocious little nymphet to possess Sue Lyon’s halo of blonde fluff rather than Nabokov’s Lolita’s crown of brown curls, I was reading the tale of Humbert Humbert’s past story with an a-ha! moment of comprehension. That’s why he behaves like that towards small girls, I thought.

I even almost went as far as thinking: well that’s ok then.

I never really felt that with the 1962 film adaptation. The thing is that I had watched Kubrick’s version before I had read the book, finding the film quite easily digestible while not really understanding the premise of the tale. The mainstream nature of this film and the very way that it was made has forever changed the way that Nabokov’s masterpiece is read. And what a masterpiece it is.

It is such a finely formed piece of work that, while making us feel rather dirty,  so effectively delves into the mind of a paedophile. The script is lyrical, the story line is convincing. The ridiculously named Humbert occassionally makes excuses, but doesn’t ask for sympathy; something that actually fosters an empathetic relationship between reader and subject.  This, in itself,  shows the psychological savvy that Nabokov has of both his subject and his audience.

So my suggestion: if your morals do not usually get overly offended by deviations from the norm and you value a really good read, then you should probably have a crack at Lolita. Not in the paedophilic sense. Really. Even if she is a dirty little crack whore.

Tags: Books, humbert humbert, kubrick, lolita, nabokov, paedophilia