Lolita, my second step out of woeful illiteratecy

I’ve always loved stories. When I was little, I read books all the time. Over the years, however, reading has fallen to the wayside and taken a backseat to other obligations. For years now, the only serious reading I’ve done has been for English class. This year, I’m determined to change that.

I’ve decided that to break the “too lazy-I mean.. too busy to read” cycle, I should start with the classics. My first book of the year was The Fellowship of the Ring (I know that LOTR is one book, but I’m counting Fellowship as its own novel) by Tolkien was my first read of the year, briefly discussed here. Next, I read Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov.

It’s a fascinating novel. I read it as an exploration of lust and passion, and it is engrossing to look through the eyes of someone we would consider deranged. His delusions and lack of reliability make it the prose almost trance-inducing. Stylistically, it’s more beautifully written than any novel I’ve read before. The famous opening monologue comes to mind, as does the final sequence of him in his final confrontation. I’ll avoid spoilers for this post; just know that stylistically, Lolita is poetic and engaging.

I’m now reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Twain. I’ll post an update after I finish it.

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