Nabokov's Lolita
Nabokov's Lolita
A six word review plus a commentary
Introduction
Every so often I experiment with writing six word reviews: a form of nano (ultra short) writing borrowed from the genre of flash fiction. To be honest, I don’t think you can do anything justice in six words, so I’ve added a commentary to expand on my thoughts.
My review:
Beautiful writing, shame about the content.
Commentary
“There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book.
Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.”Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
On that basis, Lolita is a well-written — indeed beautifully-written — book. However, I was unable to progress beyond chapter 5. While that sounds like a great deal, it equates to around 10 or 11 pages only.
The problem I have is that although the writing is superb, I find the idea of a middle-aged man salivating over a 12-year old girl quite horrible. Therefore, I have added Lolita to a list of books I feel I should read, but cannot bring myself to tackle at the moment.
Unfortunately, such is Lolita’s reputation (notoriety?), I was deterred from reading any of Nabokov’s works at all. I discovered him on a short story course, where I discovered too that most other people on the course had had the same experience. If you have as well, then please forgive my presumptuousness in saying that you are missing out. His short stories are wonderful. Read them just for the writing, the fresh turns of phrase.
For example, in Spring in Fialta, Nabokov writes:
“… she kissed me thrice with more mouth than meaning, …”
I bought myself a copy of A Russian Beauty and Other Stories, and I am working my way through them — although the word “working” suggests the kind of effort one would normally associate with other writers. These are pure pleasure.
Again, there are some marvellous sentences, like:
“… by now she knew everything about him — that he had a deranged daughter, and a despicable son-in-law, and diabetes.” (Breaking the news)
and:
“There, the crickets stridulated, the branches swayed, an occasional apple fell with a taut thud, and the moon performed calisthenics on the white-washed wall of the chicken coop.” (A Russian Beauty)
If you aspire to write well, and learn from the greats, do yourself a favour and start reading some Nabokov if you have not already done so.
I suppose if the only literary mechanism were to create sympathy on the narrator, the literary world would be much poorer. There are books with multiple narrators, some of whom are unreliable. The whole "epic" approach in theatre is based on not identifying with the actors. Thus you should not be deterred by the unpleasant narrator and miss this really engaging language and narrative. Nabokov is a non-native English speaker but possibly one who uses the language best.
Love your micro-review. I've tried coming up with a few of those in the past. My favorite is a three-word review for a book that tortured me: Hallmark Does Homer.
I never read Lolita for the reasons you describe. I've read that the book is written in such a way that the reader is supposed to feel sympathy for the narrator, and I'm just not interested in cultivating sympathy for perverts. But I suppose I should see for myself.