Before I describe my actual experience with this novel, I'd like to note a couple of things.
I read it based solely on my enjoyment of Kubrick's film rendition of this novel. I watched the movie with no expectations (usually my favorite movies are seen this way), and as disgusting as the premise of the story is, it's just so sexy and wrong and interesting. I was really fascinated that I was able to watch the movie without completely condemning Humbert Humbert (main character with a great name). With that thought in mind, I decided to read the book.
And now that I've prefaced it, here are my thoughts. It was a struggle getting through this book for me. Nabokov writes prose very skillfully and his words have a very lyrical quality; it's almost as if he read every page aloud and then added clever puns and mnemonics. A lot of these flew right over my head and when I re-read passages, I would usually find references or jokes I originally missed. However, that's when I did re-read the passages. Going through Lolita for the first time was difficult because first, you don't always catch the sheer ingenuity of his words and sentence structures, and second, what actually is happening in the book is often masked by his poetry. His word selection also surpasses the vocabulary of the average reader (if I consider myself the average reader), and since I read this mainly while sitting on the bus, I couldn't look up any words and would just simply move to the next passage. Finally, he throws a lot of French in there, and it looked like, well, French to me.
[Side note: Do you ever do that? You don't know a word, and yes, the smart thing to do would be to look it up and repeat it 7 times that day in a sentence so that you integrate it into your active vocabulary. Easy right? Yeah, so I don't do that. A lot of times I'll just infer what the word means, usually based on the context of the sentence, but I realized that sometimes my brain will give that unknown word a definition, based on what a similar-looking word looks like. Example: [...] ]
Anyway, the point is that though I recognize Nabokov's skill as a writer, the book itself just wasn't as enjoyable for me. I guess it's kinda like watching the Simpsons and not understanding the cultural references. What made it especially different from the movie (I later realized after reading reviews) was that Kubrick omitted a good amount of the novel, particularly long monologues from HumHum where he obsessively details his infatuation with nymphets (believe me-- detail by PAINSTAKING detail) and then other long passages where BertBert wishes to show the reader that he understood how society would condemn these desires and as a result, he constantly restrains himself. Through the 300 pages, much of it is H.H.'s inner monologue and there is very little that actually happens in the book.
The book should be read as a verbal confession by H.H. and not as a novel by Nabokov. Then, it is clear as the story progresses that H.H. delves into sheer insanity upon losing his Lo, and the reader begins to question good ol' H's sense of self and reality. He typically describes himself as dashing, dark, handsome, and it is true that there are women that fall for him, but you can't help but wonder what Humbert^2's sense of reality is, especially as you realize how his lust blindsides him when it comes to others' concerns and feelings. He is unfazed when Charlotte (mother of Lolita) dies and his want for Lolita by far overrides any protests she has over his unwavering control and disruption of a normal childhood. Hum also pays little attention to Lolita's mourning of her mother's death, seeing only her outwardly aloof attitude and brushing aside thoughts that she is heavily internalizing her mourning. I think it's interesting when you don't know how an author actually perceives the reality within the world of that book.
This novel can be great if you are:
- prepared to read it again
- carry a dictionary or are sitting next to a computer
- the type that enjoys long descriptive text
Otherwise, I would recommend the movie instead.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
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1 frightfully insightful remarks:
I enjoy literature that can stand alone as great without any necessary prior knowledge, in large part because much of the time I do not feel like expending any additional effort to comprehend a text. English classes helped solve this problem; the teacher or professor would fill in contextual gaps that existed and I could passively take it in.
I definitely understand the frustration, though. I've tried to read Nabokov's Pale Fire while commuting and had to give up because I was getting very lost. There is literature that lends itself to being read while on some form of noisy and disruptive public transportation. And there is literature that should be consumed, in one or two big uninterrupted gulps, on a rainy day in your room, with that laptop and dictionary close at hand. Because when one is in the right mood, I think that additional effort can yield so much fruit.
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