It almost seems sacrilegious to have Nabokov’s language come out of Humbert Humbert.
A visit to a plausible cove on the Atlantic side was completely messed up by foul weather. A thick damp sky, muddy waves, a sense of boundless but somehow matter-of-fact mist–what could be further removed from the crisp charm, the sapphire occasion and rosy contingency of my Riviera romance? (p. 167)
Humbert is discovering the reason why twelve year-olds make lousy lovers. Lolita’s childish nature is one of self-absorption. The clothes he researched and bought her don’t fit. She’s tired of being contained in motels. She wants comic books and candy, and sex is just a game she plays as she comes into learning about her power over boys, over Humbert.
They travel through the states crossing borders, entering new states that signify more than locations, but the state of the relationship as it changes.
The very idea of Lolita’s not being a virgin seems to make Humbert even more pathetic. The borders he intended to respect have already been breached. There is indeed a line drawn on morality, and Humbert does his best to convince us that he walks that line, but even he has his doubts.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology