Publisher: Vintage (1955)
Nabokov’s prose is simply excellent, stellar, and beautiful. The writing is undeniably eloquent and clever on all fronts. The story about Humbert, although, as everyone knows is disturbing but not as disturbing as one might think. In the afterword by Nabokov, he writes how people read the first “act” so to speak of the book and when nothing truly erotic happened, they became bored. I wasn’t bored but after a certain event happened, I remembered thinking, “There are 200 more pages of this?!?!” Humbert is a despicable human being and what he did to Lolita, even if she wasn’t a virgin, is inexcusable.
How did the book make me feel? Ickiness is one word to use. Especially during a few scenes when they are intimate (which, honestly, Nabokov kept it classy and alluded to those moments throughout) made me cringe. However, at the end, I was justified with the way everything turned out.
Not for the faint of heart, this book is for bibliophiles that enjoy fantastic writing and can get through the subject matter. If you can’t get through this pervert’s account about his obsession with nymphets, steer clear and watch the movie versions instead (or not).
I’m glad I read this book and now I don’t have to read it ever, again.