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

Where British Steel met the Nubile Cultural Beauty.

Noughties have been a delight. My life began; I might be tempted to say-just as any other city’s did. But the fact is that my life began when angry gentlemen threw spades at each other. In sixteenth century, my rulers at Golconda founded me. Musi, my artery ran through me fresh and clear embellishing me for years. When plague besieged me portentously, my rulers wove one of the most beautiful monuments in India-Charminar, adorned me with the crown. But before the incumbent rulers at Golconda could flourish in the shadows of the great crown and meadows of the fecund land, Nizams defeated them in a battle. What was to come next, I would not have contemplated at that time, but looking back, I realise that the Nizams watered those shrubs of culture that sporadically rose in the rule of my previous rulers. What was to be quoted by Dr. Ambedkar after my inclusion in the united India - as home to all the riches and culture, so good to take upon the capital city status for a united India - grew...

White Man's Diary

I have utter contempt for a man who is not passionate about the work he does; I am at loss for words to decipher the enigma of this world and its subtle nuances. Its really intriguing at the same time quite disturbing to know that there are people who consider the world a mundane place. It’s inconceivable to think that people are ingenuously assuming the shred of indifference. Permit me to feel flattered for being bestowed upon me the onus of enlightening the kind of people that were ostracized for centuries by the society of the enlightened, the kind that were never kind to themselves, the kind that wished to liberate themselves from all the desires that besieged them perpetually. History tells us that the people who managed to think beyond the obvious were invariably rewarded for having put up the act of thinking. People who lived on this planet earth 2000 years prior to now, had enough food for thought. An incredible amount of friction existed at every step they took in the evolutio...

Keyboard

In this land of square edges, people wear black square helmets with lines in contrasting colour drawn right at the top. With tapering stiff cloaks fattening at the bottom, we rest on this flat piece of charcoal Black Island. We stand tall, our bodies solid and inflexible, but the knees are lithe and give away. However, we are genetically designed to spring back up, stand tall and take the incessant knocking on our helmeted heads. Our life time varies; we hear news of islands, our contemporaries, wearing out with the frontline soldiers’ knees worn out of perpetual thrashing to their feet only to spring back and be knocked again. With a population of close to a hundred people, our island boasts a frontline soldier squad of 26. This squad is relentlessly battered; under a roar of stuttering knocks on the head, they are the ones who find their knees buckle before the rest of the population’s. More often than not, it is the ones who are guarding the left front, ones with ‘a’, ‘s’, ‘e’, or...