How did I think Vladimir Nabokov devoted 300 pages to just an old man craving a 12-year-old girl? I'm 130 pages into Lolita and no spoilers, but whoa! So much more is going on in this tale.
And it's delicious. Best prose of any book, ever, that I've ever read. (His Conclusive Evidence is my all-time favorite book.)
(It was very hard getting past the central crime, though smart for the narrator to begin by addressing the jury. (We are consoled from the first notes that he's failed to get away with it.)
On attempt #3, I've been able to accept that yes, there's a guy like that, and fascinated to get into his mind. And to hear this captivating tale in his exquisite prose.
Here is p. 39, where I fell hopelessly in love with the book:
Nabokov just said “less than six inches,” instead of fewer. Lolita, p. 130. Even the master makes mistakes. :)
(Now suddenly I'm wondering if I'd had it wrong all along.)
And--update!--my Facebook readers assure me I did have it wrong, because it refers to a measurement. I should have known!