JM: You made your points quite
convincingly to show how Ray sees himself as a brilliant
and competent editor, psychiatrist and whatever one may think up
to add. Also by situating him as a "comic device" or a Nabokovian
tease
( the name Windmuller could carry a quixotesque hint, but
it seems to fit closer to a kind of "wind-chaser" ?)*. Actually, what is truth - outside our realm of
wordy fiction? We may suffer lapses of sloppiness -- in the
line of A.Stadlen's arguments [I must say I long ago noticed the point about "My Cue" being
supposedly real and "Quilty" being supposedly peudonymous. I am afraid I did
wonder whether this was just VN being a bit sloppy. When one takes into account
Brian Boyd's argument that VN simply made a mistake about the famous 56 days,
might this not be the case here too?] -- or become inconsistent and break the spell -- in novel or
in life.
I agree with Don's, and Appel's appraisal, though,
that the overall impression, after reading and re-reading "Lolita,"is that in
one of the worlds inside other worlds there is an author, who is laughing
at us. In this case, even what appears as "sloppiness" must be considered as
part of a tease ( even if not deliberately constructed as such by the
author).
..............................................................................................................................................................................................................
* But not just Ray
as the tease or the comic device.
For example,
when H.H writes: "I remember thinking that this idea of children-colors had been
lifted by authors Clare Quilty and Vivian Darkbloom from a passage in James
Joyce, and that two of the colors were quite exasperatingly lovely — Orange who
kept fidgeting all the time, and Emerald," he might have been alluding to the kind of games that
repeatedly present a disguised word to be discovered in the conversation.
Perhaps he is also warning the reader about his use of
similar tactics in his confessions, by hiding them in anagrams, puns and
allusions ( just like this one he made to Joyce's "Angels and Devils"), to
engage us in a paper-chase, like his own after Quilty and Lo.
Nevertheless in this particular novel our task has no
definite aim, unlike HH's. Perhaps he is merely inducing us into sharing
his chase. And yet, here, by working over these investigations we may
become moralistic omnipotent generalizing figures, like Ray, or as new
Windmullers, trying to snare the
wind.