Alrighty, book time! Today we’re looking at Nabokov’s Lolita.

(Yes, it’s another installment of “Claudia’s Too Anxious to Check Out a New Book from the Library so She’s Re-Reading One She Owns.” Hopefully someday soon I’ll stop being a loser.)

Have I read this before: See above.

Review: Don’t call me a pervert, but I freaking love this book. I honestly love it more for the way it’s written than the actual story.

Edit: holy crap, I didn’t know it was written in English. I thought it was originally in French and just translated (yes I know I’m dumb, shut up).
Edit edit: He could speak English before he could speak either Russian or French. The more you know!
Edit edit edit: This isn’t so much a review as me freaking out about Nabokov. Sorryz.

Favorite part: Can I just say “the language” for this? ‘Cause holy gods.

“The two voices parted in an explosion of warmth and good will, and through some freak mechanical flaw all my coins came tumbling back to me with a hitting-the-jackpot clatter that almost made me laugh despite the disappointment at having to postpone bliss. One wonders if this sudden discharge, this spasmodic refund, was not correlated somehow, in the mind of McFate, with my having invented that little expedition before ever learning of it as I did now.”

The whole damn book is like that: beautifully written. Flawless Nabokov is flawless.

Rating: 9/10