Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
Turgid, pretentious tripe. That Nabokov is a skilled writer seems to be a point he intends to make with every word of this revolting book, which presents a sense of desperation and a lack of humor. It's as if he prepared a wonderfully eloquent cake made of shit, and demands you admire the cake for it's eloquence. Humbert Humbert is a disgusting lecher, and spending time with him is highly unpleasant - as much for his overblown sense of self as his pedophilia.
A Platonist might present this as exhibit A in his prosecution against poetry:
"What is the redeeming feature of this novel? I'd argue that it is as imbalanced to write with eloquence on the subject of garbage, as to write garbage on the subject of eloquence."
Humbert Humbert is a cynical pedophile who commits the unforgivable sin of being boring. Lolita is sensationalism with a thesaurus.
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