Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

That’s right. I finally finished reading Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. I have always wanted to, but somehow never managed to pick it up. Last week or so, in the middle of reading Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh, I happened to feel a reading slump coming. I put down Eileen right away (temporarily), and while trying to decide which book to pick out of my TBR pile, one way or another, I completely ditched the pile and decided to give Lolita a go. It probably has to do with a book review by one of my trusted readers/reviewers –Clare of A Little Blog of Books. You see, she wrote a review of The People in the Trees by Hanya Yanagihara and happened to mention Lolita in there… so I checked out both books from the library, and started reading Lolita. The subtleties (or the mysteries) of life, eh?!

Well now, where do I even start? Lolita is a very disturbing book and from the very beginning, throws the sane and perhaps moderate reader into a chaotic mind — the mind of Humbert Humbert, our narrator of the day! Reading his narration is like listening to a madman who thinks he is perfectly sane. Which is not too far fetched in the case of Mr. Humbert. He is an unreliable narrator as unreliable narrators go. His relationship with Lolita was so one sided that at times I had to close the book, sit back and ponder what must really have been happening with this story. At times he made me mad, other times I did not know if I should feel sorry for him. Well, don’t judge me. I do not mean to lessen his crimes by saying I feel sorry for him. What he’d done is unforgivable, a criminal act or acts if you will, yes, and at the same time, may be the unstable and sick side of him made me somewhat sympathetic towards him.