Someday, maybe I’ll feel up to writing a worthy review of this 20th century masterpiece.
For now, though, I’ll give the reasons I gave it 4 stars instead of 5:
1. Pedophilia. There is no way around the inherent creepiness of this topic.
2. The road trip. The seemingly endless ride through 1950s Americana did not do it for me. At least no one sang “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall,” but they might as well have.
3. Eyeball licking.
Those quibbles aside, there is little to equal Nabokov’s playful dexterity with the English language, his nuanced and perceptive depiction of a character who is both truly repulsive and disturbingly charming, and his ability to entertain. Lolita
is worth reading for the neologisms alone.