the russians are coming

the great nabokov. 

i remember when someone first told me they loved

lolita, and so, knowing nothing about it, i went 

to check it out and was horrified and aghast,

i must say, when i realized what it was about.

it's not a bedtime story. it's not an inspiring, 

encouraging, heart-warming, uplifting, 

fortifying—or even a nice—book.

but, it's picturesque and turbid and heart-breakingly poetic, 

it's lyrical and obsessive and compulsively,

neurotically, unendingly, undeniably, disgustingly,

beautifully passionate. 

for me, it's not about the passion in the story,

that i find so enthralling or worth reading.

it's the passion for words, for the written word,

for language itself.

and that is what makes it beautiful. 

p.s. if you haven't read it and are now going to based on my 

suggestion, you should know that it's about an older man's sexual 

obsession/desire for a prepubescent girl. just so you know. 


p.p.s. You still have till the end of tonight to get your comments in for the
six month mark giveaway, if you haven't already!