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Jan. 22nd, 2014
Lo (1,10) Ramsdale
Jan. 22nd, 2014 11:46 amAfter his arctic adventures and another stay at a pricey sanatorium, Humbert Humbert is ready to settle down and work on his books:
I cast around for some place in the New England countryside or sleepy small town (elms, white church) where I could spend a studious summer subsisting on a compact boxful of notes I had accumulated and bathing in some nearby lake.
He is invited to stay in the household of a Mr. McCoo. Hummy is a little excited by this prospect, as Mr. McCoo has a daughter of twelve, a little nymphet resident of that enchanted island with the mirrory beaches and rosy rocks - cockadoodle doo, look at what I got for you!
I exchanged letters with these people, satisfying them I was housebroken, and spent a fantastic night on the train, imagining in all possible detail the enigmatic nymphet I would coach in French and fondle in Humbertish.
But Nabokov is still only teasing the reader. Hummy will never lay eyes on the McCoo girl:
A distraught McCoo in wet clothes turned up at the only hotel of green-and-pink Ramsdale with the news that his house had just burned down - possibly owing to the synchronous conflagration that had been raging all night in my veins.
It looks to Humbert like this whole Ramsdale idea is a bust, but out of old world politeness he accepts McCoo’s suggestion to check out 342 Lawn Street for a place to stay. What is a guy to do?
I cast around for some place in the New England countryside or sleepy small town (elms, white church) where I could spend a studious summer subsisting on a compact boxful of notes I had accumulated and bathing in some nearby lake.
He is invited to stay in the household of a Mr. McCoo. Hummy is a little excited by this prospect, as Mr. McCoo has a daughter of twelve, a little nymphet resident of that enchanted island with the mirrory beaches and rosy rocks - cockadoodle doo, look at what I got for you!
I exchanged letters with these people, satisfying them I was housebroken, and spent a fantastic night on the train, imagining in all possible detail the enigmatic nymphet I would coach in French and fondle in Humbertish.
But Nabokov is still only teasing the reader. Hummy will never lay eyes on the McCoo girl:
A distraught McCoo in wet clothes turned up at the only hotel of green-and-pink Ramsdale with the news that his house had just burned down - possibly owing to the synchronous conflagration that had been raging all night in my veins.
It looks to Humbert like this whole Ramsdale idea is a bust, but out of old world politeness he accepts McCoo’s suggestion to check out 342 Lawn Street for a place to stay. What is a guy to do?