The Lolita Cover-Up

What the hell is up with covers for Lolita?

In Nabokov's beautifully written novel, a middle-aged narrator whose name might be Humbert Humbert (very important: everything is from his perspective) recalls his lust for a young girl. He goes as far as to marry the teen's mother in order to get close to her.

But the audience is meant to recognize the fact that Humbert has fallen in love with the image of a young girl and not an actual person.

So why do most covers for this book promote Humbert's version of the character? Why does the quote from Vanity Fair on the black and white cover above claim Nabokov's narrative is "the only convincing love story of our century?" I hope the writer who gave that quote meant "convincing" in the sense that Humbert is truly in love with his own idea of Lolita. Maybe Vanity Fair was just trying to be edgy.

Also, a quick note: to those familiar with Japanese fashion, Lolita is a fashion movement where women dress in exaggerated, Victorian-inspired frills, bows, bloomers, and (often) long sleeves. While Japan has a long history of finding sexual appeal in innocence and youth, its appropriation of the "Lolita" idea is very broad in this case.

Anyway, covers to books can often be misleading (or even hilariously bad), but a number of covers for Lolita side with Humbert from the beginning. This is deeply troubling if only because a successful cover tells the reader what the story is about rather than broadcasting a preconceived notion of characters.

Take a look at this gallery on Flickr. How many of these interpretations for Lolita, while very well done, reference the fact she's actually being objectified? Some of these covers show a young woman aware of her sexuality and in control of it, which is definitely Humbert's view the character. Very few covers portray a victimized girl being controlled. Most are ambiguous.

Lolita is famously recognized as a book about "forbidden love" (ugh) or pornography. The reality is that it contains no explicit sex scenes. Vladmir Nobokav's book is porn if your kink is flowery descriptions, well rendered prose, and unattainable ideals, I guess. It sort of reminds me of Rose Stanley in Muriel Spark's The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, a supporting character who, the audience is told, is "famous for sex," but is revealed to be relatively innocent.

Lolita, the very few times the character emerges from Humbert's definition of her and when she becomes human, is shown to be fairly detestable. When not enraptured by her image, Humbert explains to the audience that she is a tease, temperamental, and childish.

Which I guess is pretty shocking to him what with her being a child, and all.

These descriptions feed into the idea that Lolita is sexually active because she is spoiled. Humbert, in showing that she does not meet his ideal and is in fact very flawed, lessens his crime. In his eyes, she is goading him into sleeping with her.

But this is his perspective of the events and not the only perspective with which one can read the book.

Humbert is delusional. He portrays himself as a suave foreigner and the women who do not meet his standards as fools or idiots. He describes Lolita's mother as an "old lady," but is this because she's actually old or because she's his idea of old?

In the memoir, Reading Lolita in Tehran, author Azar Nafisi writes about an Iranian student's feelings toward the book:

'[S]ome critics seem to treat the text the same way Humbert treats Lolita: they only see themselves and what they want to see.' She turned to me and continued: 'I mean, the censors, or some of [Iran's] politicized critics, don't they do the same thing, cutting up books and re-creating them in their own image? What Ayatollah Khomeini tried to do to our lives, turning us, as you said, into figments of his imagination, he also did to our fiction. Look at Salman Rushdie's case [regarding The Satanic Verses].' (Nafisi 50)

Humbert's voice is so persuasive in objectifying the titular character, audiences and illustrators forget Lolita is his victim. Sexualizing the character in cover art plays into Humbert's vision of her. I suppose it can be argued, though, that some of the book covers depict Lolita as a sexual being on purpose.

The narrator's pedophilia (which he carefully replaces with the phrase, "obsession with nymphets") is what makes the story so intriguing. Yet the book is still about a man who, aided by his inner demons, takes away the childhood of a young girl by committing statutory rape and turning her into an object. Nobokov's genius is that he makes this supremely horrible human being into a sympathetic figure.

Part of the story is how the narrator manipulates the reader into taking his side of the situation. Lolita, after all, doesn't have a voice. The character is never not defined by Humbert. We often see her as a willing accomplice to Humbert's imagination because he's the one telling the story.

When a reader or artist completely agrees with Humbert's perspective, he or she falls into a carefully laid trap.

I'm sure I've ranted about this subject another time and on another blog in the past, but every time I see the image at the top of this entry I am reminded again of how misleading cover illustrations can be. The image shows a girl with very adult legs, her shoes innocent and nostalgic of another era but her skirt at a height that tells readers she does not desire to be innocent at all.

But this is Humbert's desire, not Lolita's.

Hindu Gods Rule the Stars

Lord of Light (1968)
Eos; Trade Paperback; 279 pages; IBSN: 0380014033

I have usually kept to reading science fiction titles, and sometimes fiction in general, published from the 1970’s to present day. It’s a cruel set of standards, but some entertainment just doesn’t hold up with age.

Roger Zelzany’s Lord of Light, however, doesn't seem to belong to any age, combing a purposely antiquated voice with pared down text. It could have easily been a bestselling book in the past decade rather than a Hugo award-winning book of 1968.

Lord of Light is about faux Hindu gods ruling an alien world. Humans have long ago left behind Earth, referred to as “Urth” or “Urtha.” We’re never given the exact number of years that have elapsed since this mass exodus, giving the narrative a frighteningly vast feel.

The planet described is ruled by small number of humans who, through a sort of “reincarnating” technology which allows them to switch into new bodies once they become too old, have imitated the Hindu gods for centuries through various avatars. Kali, Vishnu, Brahma, and other deities have all been appropriated, their original human names dropped casually into the text not more than a few times (i.e. Madeline, Candi). Through these divine personas, and in a sly commentary on organized religion, these gods slow down technological development among humans in order to remain in power.

Except for Sam, the amoral hero of the narrative, who is known as Mahasamatman or Buddha to his followers. Beginning with Sam’s reincarnation, most of Lord of Light is in flashback. The book details his rebellion against the major gods who live in Heaven (several mountaintops that have been flattened and fused together) in order to set the world right for the rest of the humans.

Rating:

So. Is this book good, fun, both, or neither?

A good book, at its best, reframes the world and returns to the reader’s thoughts days after he or she has put down the text in question. A fun book, on the other hand, is just an escape hatch from the world. And yes, “fun” and “good” can be the same thing.

A good, solid book.

Despite the lag of exposition, the writing style is air tight and straight forward. The characters are morally complex, like Sam, who’s driven mainly by guilt to assume the role of the pure figure of the Buddha, or Yama whose story is analyzed in depth over at i09. It deserves to be reread often and is definitely the sort of sci-fi I wouldn’t mind seeing taught in college courses.

As for “fun,” while I trudged through the first chapter and the world building, this feeling of tediousness was admittedly brief. Once the story really began, it was difficult not to get sucked into the action. The plot even transforms into a detective story for a little while with Yama attempting to solve a murder mystery in Heaven.

Definitely recommended, either for the casual reader looking for something new or the sci-fi enthusiast who hasn’t quite gotten to this title yet if, like me, they're biased toward fiction published in the last decade or so.

Eat Your Cake

Cake made by: A Couple of Sweet Things

WARNING: Regardless of its name, this blog does not recommend one to literally "eat your books" as books are traditionally made from materials which aren't very tasty. Unless you like eating paper. (Some do.)

However, if your books are made out of delicious cake, by all means, go ahead!

(Thanks Cake Wrecks!)

Further Adventures from my Bookshelf

By revealing to someone what you haven't read (yet), you are always in grave danger of revealing your ignorance.

Then again, I try not to pretend I'm something other than I'm not, and a book hoarder isn't the worst thing in the world, right?

("Right," everyone says, nodding in approval. "You are obviously intelligent and cool and not at all talking to yourself by writing this.")

So, here's more of my literary to-do list!

Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer
Purchased at a thrift store on a friend's recommendation. It will be read, don't worry; it's aimed at a YA audience, it looks short, and it looks fun.

The Yacoubian Building by Alaa Al Aswany
Egyptian literature! (This was a gift and certainly a good one; might be read soon.)

The Death of Vishnu by Manil Suri
Published with an eerily similar cover to The Yacoubian Building. I know I bought this because a professor recommended it to me sophomore year but I have no recollection of finishing it!

The Hounds of the Morrigan by Pat O'Shea
Like Artemis Fowl, this one is YA. It was definitely purchased because of the cover. I mean, look at it! Isn't that a neat illustration? It's probably from a famous painting I know nothing about. Not Frazetta, but very nice to look at.

Fantasy Stories Chosen by Diana Wynne Jones
Purchased at used bookstore. I despaired when I arrived home and realized it was a book of stories chosen by Jones, not be her. I was blinded by literary lust, no doubt!

Not Satanism but Transformation

The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie (1988)
Random House; Trade Paperback; 561 pages; ISBN: 0812976717

Two men fall out of the sky from a hijacked plane that explodes over England. The men are the optimistic Bollywood actor, Gibreel Farishta, and the far grumpier India-to-Britain transplant, Saladin Chamcha, a voice actor whose identity remains mostly unknown to his Western audience.

Instead of plummeting to their doom, the men fly.

A beautifully written narrative unfolds from there, chronicling each actor’s attempt to acclimate to Britain after this experience. Rushdie’s rambling, warm voice keeps the characters and events interesting whether he’s writing about saints or Satan.

Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses, like The Devil’s Arithmetic and The Screwtape Letters, has a title that incites many potential readers to say (or think), “Oh yes, that sounds really scary, maybe I’ll read that later,” knowing from public knowledge that there is something infamous attached to the book in question but unsure what exactly that is.


The reputation of Rushdie’s Satanic Verses has less to do with its title than the fatwah issued against it by Ayatollah Khomeini is 1989. The ban has survived for quite a long time despite Khomeini’s death and the accepting attitude of certain individuals in Muslim nations, but it remains none-the-less, overshadowing more important themes of immigration and forgiveness. In many ways, author Salman Rushdie’s career has been overshadowed as well. After reading the book cover to cover, I wonder if Khomeini feared the book’s exploration of the West more than its dissection of the Koran.

Parallel tales run along the main story, including an ill-fated pilgrimage that openly questions the validity of faith and a city where a whorehouse has prostitutes that model themselves after Mohammed’s wives. If Rushdie’s intent was to stir up a little controversy over two decades ago, his only crime is he succeeded far too well.

The novel’s main focus is on nationality and identity. The novel explores whether Saladin’s British wife and career mean he is no longer Indian or whether Gibreel’s good fortune means causing others harm. Religion and the questioning of it certainly makes up a good part of the novel, but in many ways it’s a red herring in finding the purpose of the narrative. Saladin and Gibreel are on an odyssey of self-discovery more than anything else, even when one man transforms into a demon (shaytan) and the other an angel.

“That sounds like a very nice book,” you are probably saying to yourself. (Or maybe you are thinking that it sounds dreadful; I can’t tell.) “But isn’t this a review? What do you think of it?”

Well, I think a lot of things about the story and its analysis of the intersection between Eastern and Western cultures, but I fear I would mostly end up repeating much of the book verbatim and that certainly isn’t what a blog review should be about.

Instead I’ll give it a

Rating:

So. Is this book good, fun, both, or neither?

A good book, at its best, reframes the world and returns to the reader’s thoughts days after he or she has put down the text in question. A good book can still be “fun” but in an academic and challenging sense. The journey isn’t always viscerally pleasant, but it’s a healthy dose of literature, reality, or sense.

A fun book, on the other hand, is, at its best, an escape hatch from the world. It’s dessert before dinner or ice cream for breakfast. It doesn’t have to be believable, just convincing. A fun book is “good” in the sense that it successfully transports you to an imaginary vacation spot where thinking is often largely optional.

And yes, “fun” and “good” can be the same thing.

What is The Satanic Verses, exactly?

In one scene, one of Rushdie’s heroes attempts to come up with a philosophy to explain the recent twists in his life. “Maybe unhappiness is the continuum through which the human life moves, and joy just a series of blips, of islands in the stream,” Saladin thinks to himself (Rushdie 531). The book quickly moves on to other subjects, being the far-reaching, thoroughly populated odyssey Rushdie likes to write (if Midnight’s Children is any indication).

The above line remained with me through the rest of the text, though. Rushdie and the reader see one unhappiness after another: suicide, the dissolution of marriage, and unforgivable crimes. Gibreel and Saladin may survive falling out of the sky, but that’s only the beginning of their troubles. Literature isn’t very compelling without conflict, though, and the characters always suffer for a (sometimes self-inflicted) reason.

Tragic events in the novel are contrasted with “islands in the stream” that make certain quiet moments all the more satisfying to read:

A heartless bussinessman has a secret passion for carpentry.

A hospital filled with dehumanized but fantastical patients makes an escape for the real world.

A father and son finally form a loving paternal relationship while one is on his deathbed.

These moments stand out brilliantly in the otherwise bleak setting of the narrative where foreigners are terrorized for being different and religion may very well be a sham. It’s a good book, but a reader must be prepared to work for satisfaction. Gratification and contentment, the book indicates, does not just fall from the sky.

Explorations of My Bookshelf

Some readers refuse to buy another book before they finish what they have. I am not one of these readers.

This is one of the reasons I think reading is a lot like eating. Some of us, like myself, are just gluttons.

A sampling of books from my shelf that I have either not read or have not (yet) finished.

Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury
Sort of a short story collection/memoir. I read the first story and found it, as usual with Bradbury, very sentimental. But hmm. I bought this. When did I buy this?

Lord of Light by Roger Zelazny
Man, I don't remember buying this one either. What the hell. Did I buy it because the summary on the back is so cool? Because it's very cool.

Earth is long since dead. On a colony planet, a band of men has gained control of technology, made themselves immortal, and now rule their world as the gods of the Hindu pantheon.

Dreamcatcher by Stephen King
I remember watching the trailer for the film adaptation. Not exactly sure how this ended up on my shelf?

Princess Nevermore by Dian Curtis Regan
I remember this book! Oh! Oh! It has a cool idea, it's Young Adult, it's got a princess and an underworld...and...and INeverFinishedItWhoops.

The Love Poems of Lord Byron: A Romantic's Passion
Byron's poetry is neat. The details of his life, on the other hand, are hilarious. Maybe I was disappointed his poems didn't have more pregnant teenagers?

Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein
Yes, there are sci-fi fans (or, well, people who consider themselves sci-fi fans) who haven't read this book. Anyway, space hippies and the prologue sounded promising; it was bought.