One of the recurring themes in my story was whether or not my cultivation of the Lolita look in my escort work encouraged paedophile tendencies in men. Yes, I am petite. Yes, I look much younger than I really am. And yes, some of my clients like me to dress up as an adolescent (the schoolgirl uniform, of which many are available in adult shops, is the favoured outfit but, as you know, there are others).
Personally, I have always been a fan of Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. I own a copy of the Folio Society edition, beautifully illustrated by Federico Ferrante. Of course the novel makes many readers feel uncomfortable, even repelled. But that’s precisely why it is such a masterpiece. If it was told in the third person, or, perhaps, even from Dolores’s point of view, it would likely only reinforce the reader’s sense of moral superiority. But, because it is told from Humbert’s point of view, it makes us feel uncomfortable. We are repelled by his proclivities but he isn’t completely unsuccessful in gaining our sympathy at the same time (incidentally, when it comes to movie adaptations, I much prefer the 1997 Adrian Lynne version to the older Kubrick one, both because it is closer to the book, but also because Jeremy Irons’s portrayal is more sympathetic). It has led some people to speculate that Nabokov himself must have been a paedophile. But the only concrete evidence for this that I have read is that he was repeatedly abused as a child by his rich uncle (apparently his parents knew and tolerated this in the hope that the uncle would leave them money). And, although some victims of abuse do go on to become abusers, the assumption that this happens as a matter of course is crass, cruel and disgusting. Besides, nobody ever speculates that the many writers who write from the point of view of murderers, both in literary and popular fiction, must automatically be murderers in real life.
The important contrast between Dolores and people like me who sometimes cultivate the adolescent look, is that, when she first appears in the story, she is a prepubescent girl. Indeed, as her body alters, Humber’s feelings become more complicated; he is partly repelled by the changes but he is unable to give her up. There is no way that anybody could mistake me for a prepubescent girl. In fact, despite my youthful looks, you would never mistake me for younger than 23 or 24. Those clients who come to see me because they fantasise about younger girls have to suspend disbelief, which is part and parcel of seeing a sex worker anyway.
I had the bad fortune once to stumble on some child porn images and I can assure you that they bore no relationship to the sexy schoolgirl look, or even Ferante’s sensitive drawings in the Folio Society edition of Lolita. They were HORRIBLE! If it wasn’t for the nudity and the sexualised poses, they could have passed as fundraising posters for deprived orphanages. The children were mostly undernourished and none were even near puberty. I can’t even remotely get inside the head of someone who might find them exciting.
Writers who are good at their craft, whether it is literary or genre fiction, can convince you of the plausibility of their characters. Humbert is extremely plausible. But is that what paedophiles are like in real life?
Well, that’s another story.