Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov I am sure I’ll take some flak for this, but I only felt so-so about Lolita. Until two-thirds of the way through, I was horrified and yet I couldn’t stop reading (due in part to content, but also, in part, to the fact that I was reading this for a book club). And I will say that I didn’t feel so-so because of the controversial issues raised in the book. I think it’s because, for me, it felt a little long-winded and a little too bizarre toward the end, leaving all those emotions that the earlier parts of the book had stirred up in me to settle and ultimately to feel sort of “meh” about the whole experience. I don’t know why, but for some reason my perception of this book was that Humbert Humbert never actually touched Lolita, but spent the duration of the book being a creepy neighbor. Little did I know the reality that this book had in store for me. I’m also outraged that when people think of Lolitathey think of the little nymphet that Humbert described, when, in actual fact, Lolita seemed like a normal young teen just beginning to experiment with her sexuality. But what’s the image everyone associates with this book? The image of Lolita licking a lollipop seductively. We’ve been painted a picture of a young nymphet by an unreliable narrator who’s obsessed with his subject, and Lolita’s image is the one that is maligned in pop culture. I find that fairly frustrating, and disturbingly telling about society’s perception of the genders. I do appreciate and enjoyed this book for Nabokov’s writing - he is indeed brilliant. But in terms of liking any characters or feeling really moved one way or another ultimately by the story, I really can feel no more than apathetic.
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