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Sunday, April 25, 2004


Lotlita

Despite naming this blog after him, I've still never managed to get very far into the book that keeps Nabokov so damn famous.

It's not much the narrator's crime as his voice. Ugh. I just couldn't bear to listen to another word out of that pretentious bastard Humbert Humbert's mouth.

But the opening line. Yum. Don't know what knocked me into it again yesterday, but I just had to feel those words in my mouth again.

So I did, now I have them, why shouldn't you, here you go:

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.
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