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A review by jessicaminster
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
5.0
As I sit having read the last twenty or so chapters of Lolita in one long marathon today, I am stunned. In a way, this is the first novel I've read that has both challenged me and engaged me, and both to an impressively deep level. This is a novel that one can discuss for hours with people, which is precisely why my American Lit professor put aside more time to discuss this one than any other book that we're reading this semester. There is so much you can read into within these lines, how this didn't take Nabokov a lifetime to achieve I can never know.
The important thing to note about Lolita is that it is not an entertaining book, not in the conventional sense at all. It is a horribly disturbing and uncomfortable read, as it should be. The subject matter is tackled in a frank matter (in the early 1950s!) and there are very few punches that are pulled, and those that are are pulled for dramatic effect-- to make the reader wonder what could have been left out of this final product.
Humbert Humbert is of course a monster, and as one reads the novel, one grows to sort of understand his perspective, dare I say to the point of some sympathy in some points. It is a struggle in the reader's mind of fictional allegiances. To craft a character so putrid and manipulative, and to build that character through the very form in which the novel is incarnated (a fictional memoir by the character), is genius.
The language is flowery and romantic in a way that completely clashes with the horrific scenes of abuse and completely plays into the ego-stroking mind of Humbert. It's as if someone made a movie that was sold as a romantic comedy, but once it gets going it turns out to be a Saw-esque torture type movie. Okay, maybe not that extreme in terms of violence, but the emotional whiplash is presciently present.
I now want to read everything Nabokov has ever done.
The important thing to note about Lolita is that it is not an entertaining book, not in the conventional sense at all. It is a horribly disturbing and uncomfortable read, as it should be. The subject matter is tackled in a frank matter (in the early 1950s!) and there are very few punches that are pulled, and those that are are pulled for dramatic effect-- to make the reader wonder what could have been left out of this final product.
Humbert Humbert is of course a monster, and as one reads the novel, one grows to sort of understand his perspective, dare I say to the point of some sympathy in some points. It is a struggle in the reader's mind of fictional allegiances. To craft a character so putrid and manipulative, and to build that character through the very form in which the novel is incarnated (a fictional memoir by the character), is genius.
The language is flowery and romantic in a way that completely clashes with the horrific scenes of abuse and completely plays into the ego-stroking mind of Humbert. It's as if someone made a movie that was sold as a romantic comedy, but once it gets going it turns out to be a Saw-esque torture type movie. Okay, maybe not that extreme in terms of violence, but the emotional whiplash is presciently present.
I now want to read everything Nabokov has ever done.