jamiereadthis
Written on Apr 22, 2010
“And yet I adore him. I think he’s quite crazy, and with no place or occupation in life, and far from happy, and philosophically irresponsible— and there is absolutely nobody like him.”
Leave it to Nabokov to make that sentence a promise on which the entire book follows through. The acrobatics that man can do with words would stand anyone on their head. Words, in other words, worth every awkward conversation the past two weeks: “So what’s this you’re reading, what’s it about?” “Well, you mean in a word? In a word, well, incest.”
But, it’s Nabokov, of the Lolitas, Dollys, Lolas, Doloreses; what it’s about is hardly what it’s about.
Also, the epilogue earns five stars, more than five; something that epilogues on their own should hardly be allowed to do.
Nirvana. Nevada. Vaniada.