good-bye lolita

I haven't given up on a book in a long time. Sure, there are some books that I bail on within the first few chapters. But I was so close to finishing Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita before I decided -- what did I have to prove? -- I might as well toss it aside.

I was so disappointed. Last summer I read the memoir Reading Lolita in Tehran about a women's book club, led by a professor, that persisted after the Iranian Revolution. The way the author talked about Lolita made me long to read it. I figured it was a safe choice, since other books mentioned in the memoir were some favourites of mine. When I spotted a copy of Lolita in a used bookstore, I gladly spent the six dollars to purchase it.

I have given up on Lolita for several reasons. The main one is that I can't stomach it anymore. I knew the plot was about a possessive relationship, but I didn't realize that the possessive man in the relationship was in his forties while the female was twelve years old. The narrator (the man) spends long paragraphs admiring Lolita's developing body and defending his taboo desires. I would have tossed the book aside much earlier, but I thought it must have a point, or it must get better.

Maybe I'm just not sophisticated enough, but unless there's a huge twist right at the end I don't get the point.  Despite its scandalous content, it also just got really boring. Boring enough to have me drop out on page 236.

I think I'd like to donate Lolita back to the bookstore. I don't really like the thought of it living on my bookshelf.