Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

When I first decided I wanted to read Lolita it was because I wanted to broaden my appreciation of the classics that I was sorely missing. I had a rough idea of what the story line was: I recognized that it concerned a pedophile and a young girl but beyond that I really didn’t know what to expect. I had always assumed that there was a lot of graphic sex in the story. Then again, the book received many good reviews and was generally a four or five star read for other readers. It sat on my nightstand for over a year and when I realized that last week was Banned Book Week, what better time to attempt this classic. I was very surprised by what unfolded as I read the book. Certainly it involves a pedophile and his experience with young Delores Haze, whom he tenderly calls, Lolita. Absent is the graphic sex I had expected and present is some of the most beautiful writing I have ever had the joy of reading. Nabokov had a gift for language that was stunning to behold. I had only read one other Nabokov novel, the very light-hearted Pnin, which actually was a good springboard for getting into this meatier read.
Of course, the idea of a story about a pedophile is gruesome, but somehow in Nabokov’s hands, the beauty of the language overcomes the disgust of the storyline. You certainly feel sorry for Delores and yearn for her to escape from Humbert Humbert, as they traverse the country in their one year journey (August 1947-August 1948). He was such a complicated character though, that I’m not sure I ever actually despised him, although I disagreed with him on many levels. But the pictures Nabokov drew as the story progressed were just so beautiful and memorable that it’s very difficult to think of not liking the book because of its lewd reputation. It’s so much more than that. Picture this:
“The new and beautiful post office I had just emerged from stood between a dormant movie house and a conspiracy of poplars. The time was 9:00 a.m. mountain time. The street was Main Street. I paced its blue side peering at the opposite one :charming it into beauty, was one of those fragile young summer mornings with flashes of glass here and there and a general air of faltering and almost fainting at the prospect of an intolerably torrid noon.” Page 224
Passages like this are evident throughout the book. Nabokov paints the picture for you to see and all you can say is, “Beautiful.” Highly recommended.