Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita was first published in France in 1955, and has remained arguably among the most controversial books of (at least) the late 20th century.  It has been banned in France and Britain, and repeatedly challenged in the US.

On the surface, the novel is a confession by Humbert Humbert, a man imprisoned for murder–the confession, however, is not for the murder, but rather in regards to his love for, seduction of, and involvement with, an under-age female named Dolores Haze (nicknamed ‘Lolita’).  It is the confession of a rapist, of a child molester, and it is so well-written and beautiful that it challenges almost all traditional notions of right and wrong.  It is also the story of the child who is the victim of this crime, and what happens to her as a result of Humbert’s crimes, which is an aspect of this book that goes understudied.  Granted, it’s a pretty subtle aspect of the book that Nabokov himself discussed rarely–but it’s a critically important aspect that he did recognize.  You can see that in this letter, which we quote in part below, as well as in the text itself, especially in the final scene between Dolores and Humbert, which Nabokov urges us all to read.

Nabokov’s 1956 letter is to his friend and fellow scholar Morris Bishop, and notes the growing furor over Lolita.  It also makes note of Nabokov’s view of the books difficult subject matter.  As he notes, the novel is about exploitation and manipulation, about power and corruption and pain.  Although it features descriptions of sexual acts (without actually referring to ‘sex’, or the use of any language that might in any way be construed as lewd), it is not a ‘racy’ book.  It is a tragedy, in the most profound sense of the word.

The whole letter is taken from the wonderful people over at Letters of Note, and you can read it here.  Just to note, Nabokov taught literature in a number of universities in the United States, including Smith College, Mount Holyoke, and Cornell.  His Lectures on Literature and Lectures on Russian Literature are absolutely fascinating, and give a beautiful glimpse into the way his mind worked, and what kind of a reader (and writer) he was.

I have just learned that Gallimard wants to publish LOLITA. This will give her a respectable address. The book is having some success in London and Paris. Please, cher ami, do read it to the end!

Frankly, I am not much concerned with the “irate Paterfamilias”. That stuffy philistine would be just as upset if he learned that at Cornell I analyse “ULYSSES” before a class of 250 students of both sexes. I know that LOLITA is my best book so far. I calmly lean on my conviction that it is a serious work of art, and that no court could prove it to be “lewd and libertine”. All categories grade, of course, into one another: a comedy of manners written by a fine poet may have its “lewd” side; but “LOLITA” is a tragedy. “Pornography” is not an image plucked out of context; pornography is an attitude and an intention. The tragic and the obscene exclude each other.

Here’s yet another reason why we support Banned Books Week, and the reading of books that challenge us all.  Lolita is a remarkable, a difficult, and a deeply affecting work of fiction, with themes that resonate today–perhaps even more so than when it was first published.  It deserves to be read and discusses, hated and loved, and, most of all, available to any and all who want to read it.  That’s why we’re here, and that’s why we do what we do.

Happy Banned Books Week, beloved patrons!