le sigh!
this Nabokov tome was recommended by my best friend, aka "golden t***"' nee E.roses' beau, whom i held already in high regard. the book's subject matter is, at first glance, lecherous and degoutante. but one finds oneself lulled in the lilting narrative. it's very Proustian. very recherchez de temps perdu, but more interdit. i love details. descriptions of skin. things that don't openly ask to be perceived as beautiful. unexpected, skilled observances, vivid memories.
i really was surprised to have enjoyed it, as i did not like Lolita. at all. but given Nabokov's intellectually transcendant, oratorally sublime discertations on James Joyce' Ulysses, i had to give him another chance. Nabokov's lectures got a run for their money with Joseph Heller's (Catch 22) Skeleton's Guide to Finnegan's Wake.
Anyhoo, this poor library book was dog-eared as if it had been my own. hopefully it imparts MY affection.
