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Lolita
By Vladimir Nabokov ( Penguin Books Ltd )
Release Date: 1998-04-30
Average Customer Rating:
List Price: $16.50



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Product Description
The story of Humbert Humbert, poet and pervert, and his obsession with 12-year-old Dolores Haze. Determined to possess his "Lolita" both carnally and artistically, Humbert embarks on a disastrous courtship that can only end in tragedy.
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Product Reviews:
  Amazing book when you can read it... ( loborick )
Because of my notion of what the book was about, I had a hard time starting it. As soon as I picked it up, I was hooked.

This is about a mentally disturbed man and how his mind works. And Nabokov's writing is amazing. I couldn't believe English is his third language. He is a master.

The other reviews tell you about the story. It is a must read. He is a craftsman of the English language. And it is as contemporary as if written yesterday.
  I Felt Soiled After Reading This ( memccauley6 )
Nabokov is a genius. His mastery of prose is without peer. His words dance, they sing, they cavort.

I just wish he had written another story, instead of this miserably depressing tale of a crazy pedophile on a cross-country raping spree with a twelve year old girl.

I guess I am not one of the "wise, sensitive, and staunch people who understood my book" which Nabokov writes about in his condescending 1956 afterward.
  BETTER THAN THE GREAT MOVIE 
JEREMY IRONS IS MY FAVORITE ACTOR. THE BOOK WAS SUPERIOR TO THE MOVIE BECAUSE OF NABOKOV'S PROSE
  Sensual...interesting... ( jennkwon )
When I read this book, I was surprised by the authors voice. There was a delicate beat and melody to his words. His writing was beautiful, and I felt as though I could feel everything that was happening.

It is a bit graphic, so I would recommend this for a more mature audience..young adult(18+).
  I hated Lolita ( bradsumner )
I am aware there is a difference between an author and his characters. I am aware that art does not need to plead for morality. I acknowledge Nabokov's skill as a stylist of english prose.

I hated the book after it left planet earth about half way through and orbited somewhere in Nabokov's childish brain while treating a deeply troubling theme. Lolita never became real as a character - a fatal literary, rather than psychological or moral, flaw.

I could not read it without being acutely aware that: why does L. appear not to ever grieve her mother's death? WHy does she not miss her friends? Why is she not cutting up her arms with a piece of broken glass? Why does she have so little to say? After driving around the country in a small car for a year cooped up with the H why has she long ago not throttled him and left his carcass for the vultures to feed on (road tip rage - we've all felt it)?

Where are the authorities, the police?

If HH is so gah gah over her why can he not seem to remember anything specific about her - her interests or conversations? We know plenty about what she smells like, by contrast.

Why does she not act or talk like a 14 year old but instead exactly like HH himself? WHy is she so shadowy, 2 dimensional? At one point I started to wonder if maybe L was HH's deranged hallucination or phantom - which made me slightly warm up to the book - but that doesnt seem to be Nabokov's intent at all.

All of these questions - and many more which I would have to return to the novel to remember (and I have no intention of doing that) - spoiled my 'enjoyment' of the work and interjected a draft of cold wet reality into the fun so that I lost interest.

Nabokov's stylistic brilliance was used only to serve up HH's non-stop sardonic and caustic observations on American middle class life, and they became ennervating over the long long haul. And pleading Nabokov's psychological insights doesnt help much. Is this a comedy, tragedy, psychological portrait? It fails on all those counts because it is tiresome, shallow and obtuse. But I guess I DID learn a lot about motels in middle america in the 50s.

And all the little literary games and such, and the self-serving, classless forwards and afterwards only made it worse.