Skip to main content

“Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita” – Book review


Nabokov employs an unconventional narrative style in his magnum opus. The book is considered by intellectuals and common public in general, as one of the ten greatest and most influential books ever written in any language. The protagonist’s morbid fantasy, for nymphets, eleven to thirteen years old girls, has stirred the world in a grip of fiction that portentously swayed outside the novel. Into the world, Lolita issued a word, a phrase, that prancing wildly, melting morals on its way, tramping literary conventions under its rabid feet , attained martyrdom that few books in the history can claim the status of.

Rose bud pink cheeks, slender waist, slack limbs, hoisted figure, honey coated soft pale white skin, perfunctory clothing, bare feet, toe nails polished of red, plump under lip, cropped eye lids, pale grey eyes, bobbed hair that sullenly slanted on naked flesh, slim shoulder blades……the protagonist, H.H’s avid, detailed and myriad imagery of Lolita in prismatic patterns fills the pages full of insidious infatuations. In light snow, under heavy sun; in waters of love and gardens of seduction, H.H adores the nymphet, Lolita.

Book begins with H.H’s confessions; through his memoirs, from the present day, seated before the jury, protagonist presents his case. He is a man in his forties, and is besotted to death for his love of life, Lolita. Book begins with protagonist accosting a school friend of his, describes the brief yet indescribable pleasure that he felt and longed for since then. His adventures with prostitutes! His marriage to Valerie who ditches him for a Russian who spoke French awfully, and left his toilet without flushing after use

A series of dubious events land him at Dolores Haze’s home. And here, begins his tryst with the nymphet of his dreams. He marries the widower, in an attempt to get closer to Lolita. His stay at her home, the marriage, and Dolores’ stay at a camping site- all of these are rather uneventful, for the pages are all filled with a concomitant of passionate outbursts through out the day, for his Lolita. H.H imagines getting rid of the elder Haze; throughout the platitudinous love making with the elder Haze, he imagines the features of the elder, of what his nymphet would pale out to adorn in future; in the family albums, H.H calculates how the elder resembled the younger, and with this, he compensates for the time being, with excursions and trips, to the pool and to the farm. It’s the school frock and tall slender legs that H.H longs for, not coarse skinned, rotund featured, heavy bosomed old ladies.


“….Pulled the pistol's foreskin back, and then enjoyed the orgasm of the crushed trigger” writes Nabokov. Lolita enthrals the readers who like wordplay, and the ones that like unconventional style, drama and plot.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"Collapse" - Book Review

“Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed” is a book for every student, parent, teacher and business man living on this planet right now. Jared Diamond, before venturing into his comprehensive list of collapse of societies, tries to pacify the readers of an education that will be imparted, and that the readers should not be worried and bang their heads against the nearest walls. But, it doesn’t last long, it only takes the first couple of chapters and we realise the intensity of collapse that is imminent on us. It is all over now; the damage that we have caused to this planet is irreparable. Diamond presents his case promptly, reiterates the findings over and over again to make sure that it has settled on us. But he is a benevolent man, so towards the ending he sits with us readers, and endeavours to grab a thin overhanging glimmer of hope branch to get us out of the quick sand. But, we will have our shoes dirty; he reprimands, and might have to hang them up after we get out o...

Mind's Enigma

As I type these words, I am acutely aware of a thought process running on a parallel track, non coincidental, but not mutually exclusive. I take a brief pause and give way to a certain depth of philosophical musing. At once vague, misinformed and undisciplined thoughts rush into the mouth of my mind’s sphere, the sphere of capacity my mind possesses. My mind picks up “indiscriminately”, and flips the thread of thought upside down, sideways, runs its memory coils over the infinitesimally small width and across the full range of the harrowingly obscure length of the thread of thought. While this is happening, momentum shifts, it happens so fast, that my sphere of mind is choked to death with the ubiquitous energized threads of thoughts blistering from the abyss, or is it the deeper stores of stacked membranes of mind. The beautiful and at once thrilling experience of pondering over the mind's activity by me (the mind) puts me an awkward position of looking at myself from the inside. ...

Ground control to Major Wolf…

Major wolf prodded his clawed grimy nail into the console and regally laid back on his plush leather lounge. He lifted himself a little for the leather made a chugging noise as he slid on it. The overhead panel made a noise that was akin to what you hear issuing from a tap (back on planet earth) before water makes its long journey through the pipes and burbles out in the vent. The hot-iron red of the panel glow bothered major so he held his hand up. But this was not going to work. So he reached for the console and pinched a knob clockwise. The red light dimmed and now the inside of his cockpit had the look of a womb so much so that major wolf went to sleep right away. A crackle woke him up. What was it? He looked about him. Major wolf was not the type you woke up in the middle of a dream. He noticed the green agleam on the speaker so he roused himself from the leather lounge and paddled in a daze toward the crackle and making a good fist, thumped on the instrument. The crac...