BookBrowse Reviews Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

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Vladimir Nabokov's famously beautiful and disturbing portrait of obsession.

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Narrated by the pseudonymous Humbert Humbert, a middle-aged man in prison for murder, Vladimir Nabokov's masterpiece Lolita takes the form of a monologue in which Humbert describes his life-long fascination with prepubescent girls ("nymphets") and his pursuit and seduction of 12-year-old Dolores "Lolita" Haze. Deemed too controversial for American audiences, it was first published in 1955 in France (see Beyond the Book); but since its publication, it has remained highly regarded and has never been out of print.

The plot is fairly simple: Humbert, a well-educated but aimless intellectual, begins lodging with landlady Charlotte Haze and meets her daughter, Dolores. Smitten with Lolita, he manipulates both mother and daughter until, through a series of tragicomical twists, he is able to spirit Dolores away so that he can sexually abuse her. As the two of them travel across the United States on an extended road trip, he becomes increasingly paranoid and controlling, and the situation ultimately ends in tragedy.

Those who haven't read Lolita may be asking themselves why they'd want to read a book about such an abhorrent subject as child rape or one told by someone as loathsome as Humbert. The first reason is, of course, Nabokov's brilliant writing style. The reader is entranced by Humbert's narration; we're pulled into his world and are ourselves seduced by his erudition, elegant prose, and linguistic gymnastics, just as he seduces his young prey. To read the book is to become spellbound by its language from its first sentences:

"Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul, Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms, she was always Lolita."

The other truly extraordinary aspect of Lolita is how Nabokov depicts Humbert through his narration. The bulk of the book is Humbert's confession, in which he seeks to explain and rationalize his actions. It quickly becomes clear, however, that he's the consummate unreliable narrator. Even as he tries to persuade his audience that he's a good person, it's clear that he's really not a very nice man at all—even beyond his pedophilia. He possesses a complete lack of empathy; at one point, when he is between jobs early in the novel, he arranges to stay with the McCoo family, the cousins of an acquaintance, but on arriving at the train station is met by a "distraught McCoo in wet clothes" who reveals his house has just burned down. Humbert's reaction? "All right, his house would have to be completely rebuilt, so what? Had he not insured it sufficiently? I was angry, disappointed and bored."

He's also supremely egotistical ("Years of secret suffering had taught me superhuman self-control" he says) and controlling, especially of Lolita as their relationship deteriorates. He's delusional, placing blame on his victim (in his telling, Lolita becomes the sexual aggressor) and refuses to accept that his actions are beyond the pale (he considers his behavior "practically harmless"). As readers unravel Humbert's character, comparing his projection of himself to the person he unintentionally reveals himself to be becomes a fascinating exercise. And pondering how much of Humbert's story he himself believes versus how much of it reflects the "spin" he knowingly puts on his behavior is an equally entertaining pastime.

Lolita is not an easy read by any means. The story is, after all, narrated by an unrepentant pedophile, and some may be unable to get beyond that fact. Perhaps more challenging, though, is the novel's sumptuous language. Nabokov goes out of his way to portray Humbert as self-consciously intellectual, employing a robust vocabulary, untranslated French phrases, references to obscure books, music, and artworks, and vivid descriptions. A representatively florid sentence:

"The days of my youth, as I look back on them, seem to fly away from me in a flurry of pale repetitive scraps like those morning snow storms of used tissue paper that a train passenger sees whirling in the wake of the observation car."

The result is a slow, dense read. That's not necessarily a bad thing—this is a book that must be savored—but it means that the 300 pages don't exactly fly by. But in spite of the novel's complexities, those who persist will undoubtedly find Lolita an outstanding reading experience. It's one of those rare books that is truly unique, both in plot and narrative style, and one which most will find unforgettable.

This review first ran in the July 16, 2025 issue of BookBrowse Recommends.