Since the moment I turned the first page, I have been completely captivated by the thoughts of Lolita. I feel in love with Humbert on that night in the “slender leaved mimosa groove” where he and Annabel shared a few moments of young innocent love. It was from this point on that I kept saying to myself that “No this man can not be a Child Molester. A man with such a sense of love just can’t be.”
Then came that day when he was to meet Lolita, and it was then that I was completly split. I asked people around what they thought of it. Most of them simply went on to define it as “an expression of love”. But I couldn’t agree with that. For me to agree with that, would have meant to validate the sins that people commited against me.
Despite all the love that Humbert might have for Lolita, in the very end for me, he is a molester who took advantage of a little girl. For some reason, I kept finding glimpes of known emotions. For some reason, I kept finding signs that were all too fimiliar.
I think it was in the account, after Humbert had visited Dolores Schiller, that I truly understood and connected with her and her feelings. How she just lies there with “her grave, gray eyes more vacant than ever”. Had Lolita written a memoir, she must have mentioned how in that moment she – defeated – just lied there, her body presented for whom ever. She would have written about how she had to understand to take advantage of what she had, to make a life for herself, she must have written about the helplessness that one has to go through every single day. She must have written about the distrust that seems to become a part of your life after such incidents. About how a simple act of love takes so much effort from your part. Is this why she never got interested in boys? Is this why she found this stuff over rated? Is this why she took pity on a guy and married him? Did she ever get free from her past? How I wish Vladimir Nabokov could have written a memoir about her!