The young Humbert Humbert was not terribly atypical in his sex life: “In my sanitary relations with women I was practical, ironical and brisk. While a college student, in London and Paris, paid ladies sufficed me.” To which I think many of us can identify. Yet, it is noteworthy that a good-looking lad of the refined classes could not readily make girlfriends of his peers, or even of the shopgirls in town.
His studies were also only so-so:
My studies were meticulous and intense, although not particularly fruitful. At first, I planned to take a degree in psychiatry as many manque talents do; but I was even more manque than that; a peculiar exhaustion - I am so oppressed, doctor - set in; and I switched to English literature, where so many frustrated poets end as pipe-smoking teachers in tweeds.
It seems fair to say that Humbert is not living up to his potential. He is not the top-cut businessman and patrician that his father was, just as he is not the lover and Romeo that good old dad was.
And what did become of this papa? I cannot recall. It is as though he died, but I cannot find the account of his passing. One would think that we might hear mention of the old man. If he is not dead, then father and son must have fallen estranged. Or maybe Humbert does not care to associate his father with the sordid dealings of his life and has cut him out of his confession.
In any case, something seems to be holding Hummy down. He is not dumb or lowly bred. Gee, I wonder what it can be...
(Source: “Lolita” by Vladimir Nabokov)
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