This has to be my favorite quote in the entire book. IMHO, it sums up how much HH hates Charlotte, how much disdain he has for her, that even an ugly little table doesn’t deserve to be mistreated with a simple touch by the Haze woman. How does an author even come up with something like this? How outside of the moment does HH have to be to even think this? What the hell is happening?
There is plenty of critique and meaning-assignment for Lolita out there in the world for you to read, but the more encounter, the less I think I enjoy the book. I read recently about how the flowery prose was the point of it, how it was a put-on to heighten the ridiculousness of the subject matter. So that’s Nabokov making a display for his readers? Because I’ve read other critique that says it’s HH making a display for his jurors.
Maybe we’re all just overthinking it. Maybe it’s just a good burn on Haze.