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Trail: Lolita



She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.

Of course I found it shocking that Humbert H. Humbert was such an maniacal pedofile. Believe it or not I wasn’t expecting that, so I was surprised. Sure. And cross-wise to what most men may have felt when reading this book I never had an ounce of (sympathy, not the right word) of that kind of identification that makes me go, “ah! even though he’s pedo, I too have lusted for a good looking 12 year old time and again, I too know the power of the nymphet, the power the hold over me.”

But i did have (pity, the wrong word) had fear for this man. Like i wondered for awhile if Lotlita was truly malicious and what she was going to do to hurt Humbert bad at some point. Belive it or not I alotted her some power, indeed... but it was the power to seek her own vengance.
It took awhile for me to see how completely one sided the narrative was... it was only, in fact, towards the end, when HH makes his admission... when the curtain falls, when the looking glass cracked, and he admitted to Lolita actually being there, staring at a knife, hearing god laughing at the pointlessness of her little life, being raped nightly by this “admittedly handsome” child molestor she didn’t love.

But. love. you.may.ask. What about the love...? Well, we’ve all been obssessed by someone at some time or other. I can relate. I bear Humbug no ill will. he never once angered me. But yeah it did remind me of that guy in American Psycho and how at the end after he has conjured up hell and back you are left at the end to ponder “what if none of this ever really happened? was this all in his mind, or what...?” Either way, the guy is still deeply disturbed. I do believe in this case that ol’ Humbert “did it” but things were not always what they seemed and inside of that delusion, much like our American Psycho, is where the beauty is.
He presents a beautiful and dreamy fantasy and lets you dwell 317 pages in his exstasy. Even when Lolita is a washed up 17 year old, for him she still wears the halo like some plaster Maria worn down from years of devotion. I mean this guy held on to the dream and he made me see it... almost.
More that anything, I want to read this book written from Lolita’s point of view... just a thought, i know that’s not what books are about. And I am sure this thought is not all that original.

On the whole Nabokov wrote an amazing novel here. He likes playing with his words before he kills them. I enjoyed reading every word of it. I think the lack of sex, the inclusion of most imaginative ennuendo, made this story all the more powerful. I can understand why it’s a classic. Glad I read it.

Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet.
Age: five thousand three hundred days.
Profession: none, or ‘starlet.’

Where are you hiding, Dolores Haze?
Why are you hiding, darling?
(I talk in a daze, I walk in a maze,
I cannot get out, said the starling.)

Where are you riding, Dolores Haze?
What make is the magic carpet?
Is a Cream Cougar the present craze?
And where are you parked, my car pet?

Who is your hero, Dolores Haze?
Still one of those blue-caped star-men?
Oh the balmy days and the palmy bays,
And the cars, and the bars, my Carmen!

Oh Dolores, that juke-box hurts!
Are you still dancin’, darlin’?
(Both in worn levis, both in torn T-shirts,
And I, in my corner, snarlin’.)

Happy, happy is gnarled McFate
Touring the States with a child wife,
Plowing his Molly in every State
Among the protected wild life.

My Dolly, my folly! Her eyes were vair,
And never closed when I kissed her.
Know an old perfume called Soleil Vert?
Are you from Paris, mister?

Dying, dying, Lolita Haze,
Of hate and remorse, I’m dying.
And again my hairy fist I raise,
And again I hear you crying.

Officer, officer, there they go -
In the rain, where that lighted store is!
And her socks are white, and I love her so,
And her name is Haze, Dolores.

Officer, officer, there they are -
Dolores Haze and her lover!
Whip out your gun and follow that car.
Now tumble out, and take cover.

Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze.
Her dream-gray gaze never flinches.
Ninety pounds is all she weighs
With a height of sixty inches.

My car is limping, Dolores Haze,
And the last long lap is the hardest,
And I shall be dumped where the weed decays,
And the rest is rust and stardust.

from Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov