
When I read Modernist literature, I feel more empowered than usual to interpret it in exactly the way I want to regardless of the author's intention. I don't pretend to know what Nabokov means with this novel, but I see the many ways in which we are complicit in incarcerating ourselves in a false mode of existence. We are more than advertisers, corporations, and those seeking our votes think, but recognizing this takes awareness and courage.




























