Nabokov Response - Part I
Humbert Humbert, the suave and sophisticated narrator/protagonist of Vladimir Nabokov's novel Lolita, manipulates language to charm the reader in much the same way that he uses his intellect and good looks to charm the other characters in the novel, namely Lolita herself. Though the man is clearly a mentally ill rapist, he uses his clever way with words, mastery of the French language, learned literary allusions, and dry sense of humor to almost convince the reader that he is a level-headed, sane individual. H.H. - one of the handful of nicknames which he calls himself in a bizarre third-person voice that veers from the novel's general first-person point-of-view - addresses the reader directly, draws the reader intimately inside his nymphet-obsessed mind, and renders the reader sympathetic toward, perhaps even understanding of, his disgusting behavior.
Upon first sitting down to read Lolita, I tried to open the novel with an open mind. Aware of the general subject matter into which I would soon be thrown, I tried to free myself, at least for the duration of the book, from the prejudices and taboos that society holds against pedophiles and the practice of pedophilia. Though I was initially very disturbed by the character of H.H. - and especially by the couch/masturbation (if you can call it that?) scene in particular - I ended up very surprised, startled even, by how quickly I began to think nothing of Mr. Humbert's fondness for pre-pubescent flesh. By the time his long-awaited sex scene with his beloved nymphet finally arrived, I was shocked to realize that I was almost happy for him, in a way, and that I had sort of been cheering him on. This is due, in part, I'm sure, to his little Lolita's apparent willingness to engage in the act. Although, this willingness on her end is, of course, only from his point-of-view. I am embarrassed to admit that H.H. had me almost completely distracted from the fact that this is still a child he's dealing with - a twelve-year old girl, not even a teenager, no matter how sexually experienced she may claim to be. He essentially had me, in his clever telling of the tale, rooting for him as I would any heroic protagonist, despite the fact that this protagonist happens to be a rapist.
Also helping to win me over to his side, at least up to a certain point, was H.H.'s repeated claim on a sense of morality. Before he learns that Lolita is, indeed, not a virgin, he continually insists that he is not a bad man, that he cannot help his desire, and that he would never actually go so far as to violate his love's "purity." He is also kept in check by what he considers to be Charlotte's strong moral principles, even though he could easily use her adoration of him to much greater advantages earlier on. For these reasons, he had me thinking that he was at least trying to be a good person and, therefore, deserved at least a small show of sympathy. Yes, for some reason, he had me thinking this, in spite of his plan to drug both Charlotte and Lolita and then fondle Lolita in her sleep.
What was I thinking?
Lolita makes evidently clear the power that language has to manipulate not only the reader's emotions, but even the reader's morality. After putting the book down and detaching myself from H.H., I could clearly see what a horrible, depraved man he is. When wooed by his words, however, I was frighteningly far from judgmental.
Comments
Muddying up Clarity
Marcella, your responses always have a signature exuberance to them and I really like the way you combine your personal take with the analysis at hand. In this case, your entry gives us a kind of reader reception response, indicating the ways in which the language of the text steered you toward certain attitudes, even those you might initially be disposed to reject. As with words, images certainly manage this too—manage us—as the novel makes so clear with Delores’s fixation on celebrity culture and as the documents from Peiss also indicate.
I would like you to reconsider the following claim, however, in light of the binary frame you have given it: “Though the man is clearly a mentally ill rapist, he uses his clever way with words, mastery of the French language, learned literary allusions, and dry sense of humor to almost convince the reader that he is a level-headed, sane individual.” What is at stake in designating him as mentally ill rather than sane? In what ways does Katz’s investigation of the term “heterosexuality” help us see the power dynamics that incorporate such binary oppositions (as with Foucault’s discussion of the “Perverse implantation”)? And in a more complicated way, to what extent is Nabokov using the ploy of that binary to steer you as reader along those lines, only to complicate them in Part II?