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Vladimir Nabokov's controversial novel tells the story of Humbert Humbert and his obsession with Lolita, who is twelve when he first meets her. Told from the claustrophobic viewpoint of Humbert recollecting their relationship, the book can be hard to read, dealing as it does with the abduction and serial rape of a child, exclusively from the viewpoint of the rapist. Even Humbert can't pretend for long that Lolita is anything other than broken from the experiences he subjects her to.

I was told to read this book for the language and for the beautiful writing. I was told not to read this book because no woman needs to subject herself to misogynistic crap. I approached this book wondering which side would win and strongly suspecting the second. I've given up on Phillip Roth, after all, for just that reason. And aren't there enough non-misogynistic authors out there to keep me busy? Except Lolita wasn't misogynistic at all. Sure, Humbert regarded actual women with repulsion and dread. He looked at girls with either disinterest or as bodies to use to get off on. But Nabokov manages to make clear, from the depths of Humbert's delusions, that what he is doing is destroying another human being for his own momentary pleasure. And Humbert is quite a piece of work. Every event in his story is about him. When Lolita cries in pain and despair, she hurts his feelings. When Lolita's mother stands between him and his object of desire, she must be removed. This is no grand justification for pedophilia, but a shocking revelation of its costs.

And the writing is among the finest I have read. It doesn't get in the way of the story, but shines through, using the right words at the right places, seamlessly. I'll be reading more of Nabokov, and rereading this in due course.