Poor Humbert. Poor Dolores.
I’m fascinated by the concept of pity in Part Two of Lolita because Humbert is constantly begging for it. It’s in his explanations and his deliberate choice to highlight the clandestine traveling of his adventures with Dolores (accompanied by a few hazy details about her whereabouts and actions during their trip.) For the majority of the second part, it becomes abundantly clear that Humbert is weaving a tale because it’s premises are beginning to not follow completely with his conclusions and as an informant, his testimony is comparatively deficient.
There are several examples of this. I’m floored because Humbert insists that his relationship and travels with Lolita are both ultimate burdens on him. As he describes the costs of seedy motels, tours of stalagmite caves and pseudo-conjugal engagements, he makes it his duty to hone in on Lolita’s temperament. He doesn’t find her to be very smart, notably comparing her preference for a hamburger over a humberger as a sign of her interest in base activities. Does this actually pose a serious problem for Humbert? I think it’s his way of seeking a form of a validation that is unattainable. Throughout the early parts in Part Two, we can see that Humbert does not find the ultimate happiness he seeks by keeping his fantasy alive. It’s an illusion that he has to perpetually funnel his energies into, and without substantial payoff–I should add. It is obvious that Dolores, as pliant as she is to her kidnapper, is the one we should pity.
She, not Humbert, is constantly deprived of her life. She enjoys limited choices in peers and playmates outside of her brute of a sexual companion. Humbert is constantly threatened by the other people that she attracts and notably, there seems to be a fascination with her from others (at least, from Humbert’s point of view.) I seldom read about anyone who harbored the same interest in Humbert, except for one corpulent lady who apparently found him attractive. Dolores actively seeks others innocently, even managing (as of this stage in my reading) to maintain her secret. Yet she is constantly denied and held back by Humbert. This isn’t freedom. It isn’t even romantic. It’s a real pity.
All in all, it’s a real pity to see a man of Humbert’s intelligence fall for such a scheme. With his constant judgments and his interest in impressing his view on a situation that provides him no sense of vindication, he is wasting his breath on a livelihood that simply cannot be sustained. Even though I don’t buy it, it’s still a spectacular display of tenacity and on some level, I’ve enjoyed watching him sink his own ship.
April 9th, 2013 at 12:40 pm
Pity for Dolores was one of my principle emotions while reading Lolita. However, she manages to engineer her own escape from the abusive and controlling Humbert. By the end of the book, my feelings regarding Lolita changed from pity to admiration. The ending was tragic, as Dolores dies in childbirth, and does not live to experience the freedom she has managed to gain so skillfully. Interestingly, Lolita’s death is not included in the epilogue of 1962 film (although Humbert’s death from chronic thrombosis is), as the director desired to have the film end on an enjoyable and fair note, as the villain dies and the heroine escapes to marry and live happily ever after.