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Lolita (1955)

de Vladimir Nabokov

Altres autors: Mira la secció altres autors.

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27,46949577 (4.1)1 / 1100
When it was published in 1955, Lolita immediately became a cause celebre because of the freedom and sophistication with which it handled the unusual erotic predilections of its protagonist. But Vladimir Nabokov's wise, ironic, elegant masterpiece owes its stature as one of the twentieth century's novels of record not to the controversy its material aroused but to its author's use of that material to tell a love story almost shocking in its beauty and tenderness. Awe and exhilaration--along with heartbreak and mordant wit--abound in this account of the aging Humbert Humbert's obsessive, devouring, and doomed passion for the nymphet Dolores Haze. Lolita is also the story of a hypercivilized European colliding with the cheerful barbarism of postwar America, but most of all, it is a meditation on love--love as outrage and hallucination, madness and transformation.… (més)
  1. 51
    Memories of My Melancholy Whores de Gabriel Garcia Marquez (heidialice, browner56)
    heidialice: Possibly too obvious of a recommendation? Very different takes on this central theme....
    browner56: Two different views of obsession masquerading as love; both books are so well written that you almost forget the sordid nature of the theme they share.
  2. 40
    L'amant de Marguerite Duras (roby72)
  3. 30
    L'Enginyós senyor Ripley de Patricia Highsmith (Cecrow)
    Cecrow: Another villain made sympathetic by a talented author.
  4. 20
    The Basic Eight de Daniel Handler (zembla)
    zembla: Handler is a confessed 'Nabokov freak,' as he said when I saw him at a reading two years ago. He absorbs the influence beautifully.
  5. 20
    The Captive de Marcel Proust (caflores)
  6. 21
    Taming the Beast de Emily Maguire (infiniteletters)
  7. 10
    The Black Prince de Iris Murdoch (Queenofcups)
    Queenofcups: I heard many echoes of Lolita in reading The Black Prince. Anyone else find this to be the case?
  8. 10
    The Pornographer of Vienna de Lewis Crofts (heidijane)
  9. 00
    His Monkey Wife de John Collier (SnootyBaronet)
    SnootyBaronet: Euphuistic narratives of forbidden love
  10. 00
    The Death of David Debrizzi de Paul Micou (KayCliff)
  11. 00
    Tigre blanc de Aravind Adiga (mcenroeucsb)
  12. 00
    The North China Lover de Marguerite Duras (edwinbcn)
    edwinbcn: Another story of a man with a passion for a young girl.
  13. 01
    Eve de James Hadley Chase (caflores)
  14. 01
    La veritat sobre el cas Harry Quebert de Joël Dicker (suniru)
  15. 01
    El Diable al cos de Raymond Radiguet (SnootyBaronet)
  16. 01
    Retrat de l'artista adolescent de James Joyce (kara.shamy)
  17. 02
    El Sentit d'un final de Julian Barnes (kara.shamy)
  18. 03
    Invisible Man de Ralph Ellison (kara.shamy)
  19. 04
    Hamlet de William Shakespeare (kara.shamy)
  20. 06
    Belinda de Anne Rice (rcc)
    rcc: IF you're "shocked" by Nabokov's Lolita, you surely should read Belinda. It takes off where Lolita ends. What I mean to say is that Anne Rice showed herself to be much more adpet - and daring - at writing about this "taboo" concerning the sexual adventures of a very young girl. Also, Belinda is so much more her "own woman" than Lolita.… (més)

(Mira totes les recomanacions 20)

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Es mostren 1-5 de 491 (següent | mostra-les totes)
Tough, tough to read especially at the beginning. No one wants to get into the head of a pedophile. I mean, that's just about the most disgusting thing most of us can imagine being. And Humbert is disgusting.

His rationalizations are so lame and his desires are sickening. He tries the entire time to convince the reader that Lolita was a tease, a coquette, a willing participant in his sex games. But she was 12 years old and a fatherless child at that. So her search for love in what she saw as an adult way is not surprising. But one can never forget that she is still a child and he is a 37 year old man.

So this story should be completely off-limits to being described as good. A disgusting pedophile's story cannot be described as good ever, right? Only it is good because it so completely plumbs the psyche of Humbert. He has to explain and admit who and what he is without hiding anything. He can and does rationalize but he can't hide.

I gotta say that I avoided this novel for a long time, and I am glad to let Humbert go back on the shelf now that I am done. His predilections are dirty and they are uncomfortable to read about. But as an examination of a tortured soul, Nabokov did an amazing job and I do recommend this classic to adult readers. ( )
  boldforbs | Jan 15, 2021 |
For a book that made me so uncomfortable for so much of the time I was reading it, this turned out to be a fantastic read. Nabokov could sure turn a phrase. ( )
1 vota dllh | Jan 6, 2021 |
I loved the language. The poetry, the metaphors, the original twists and devices. It is very clever. I am amazed that a non-native English speaker can write in English like this. I was mostly entertained all the way through. Some passages are quite funny (if also dark).

It is certainly weird to dive so deep into the mind and the actions of a paedophile! I am radically in favour of artistic freedom and, most of all, it is very clear in my mind that one should not try impute the features of the oeuvre to its author, necessarily. So I am in no way disturbed by someone taking on the artistic exercise of impersonating an abuser of children, a sick mind. And yet, it feels so wrong to go along the plot trying to relate to Humbert Humbert's thoughts and desires. The exact same physical features that turn on any “normal” heterosexual male are praised constantly by their absence: Lolita has a delightful flat chest, straight hips, a snooty face, speaks with the simplicity and the ingratitude of a pre-adolescent, her legs are skinny and lanky… it was impossible for me to be the least aroused by any of this (not that I was trying!). Half way through it I thought (and I think I'm not exaggerating) that I suspect I would find a gay erotic/pornographic novel more sexually stimulating than Lolita.

So yeah, it is quite surprising and disorienting. Perhaps it is precisely here where the value of the novel lies: on the difficulty of walking on shoes belonging to someone so different — so different from the author, and so different from the reader.

I found the ending a bit confusing. I confess I resorted to the Shmoop study guide to get a few details straight, once I finished reading. Perhaps because of this, I am not giving it four stars, but just three…

✿✿✿

Finishing Lolita means that I have now read nine of the ten best books of fiction of all time (according to my beloved The Greatest Books); and I have also read “one seventh” of the only book (rather series) I have left: Proust's In Search of Lost Time. I have a couple more urgent reads pending before returning to Proust, but I am definitely looking forward to resuming À la Recherche du Temps Perdu! ( )
  tripu.info | Jan 5, 2021 |
Probably the most fucked up work of fiction I’ve ever read, but unquestionably a great novel. The core pedophilia aspect is bad enough, but general psychological depravity is pretty high overall. For a work of fiction to make you hate its characters so much is impressive. The Jeremy Irons audiobook is excellent as well. ( )
  octal | Jan 1, 2021 |
Amazing audiobook version by Jeremy Irons. ( )
  albertgoldfain | Dec 27, 2020 |
Es mostren 1-5 de 491 (següent | mostra-les totes)
Haven’t we been conditioned to feel that Lolita is sui generis, a black sheep, a bit of tasteful, indeed ‘beautiful’ erotica, and that Nabokov himself, with this particular novel, somehow got ‘carried away’? Great writers, however, never get carried away. Even pretty average writers never get carried away. People who write one novel and then go back to journalism or accountancy (‘Louder, bitch!’) – they get carried away. Lolita is more austere than rapturous, as all writing is; and I have come to see it, with increasing awe, as exactly the kind of novel that its predecessors are pointing towards...

At one point, comparing himself to Joyce, Nabokov said: ‘my English is patball to [his] champion game’. At another, he tabulated the rambling rumbles of Don Quixote as a tennis match (the Don taking it in four hard sets). And we all remember Lolita on the court, her form ‘excellent to superb’, according to her schoolmistress, but her grace ‘so sterile’, according to Humbert, ‘that she could not even win from panting me and my old fashioned lifting drive’. Now, although of course Joyce and Nabokov never met in competition, it seems to me that Nabokov was the more ‘complete’ player. Joyce appeared to be cruising about on all surfaces at once, and maddeningly indulged his trick shots on high-pressure points – his drop smash, his sidespun half-volley lob. Nabokov just went out there and did the business, all litheness, power and touch. Losing early in the French (say), Joyce would be off playing exhibitions in Casablanca with various arthritic legends, and working on his inside-out between-the-legs forehand dink; whereas Nabokov and his entourage would quit the rusty dust of Roland Garros for somewhere like Hull or Nailsea, to prepare for Wimbledon on our spurned and sodden grass.
afegit per SnootyBaronet | editaThe Atlantic, Martin Amis
 
The development of this emigre’s euphuism is a likely consequence of Nabokov’s having had to abandon his natural idiom, as he puts it, his ‘untrammelled, rich and infinitely docile Russian tongue for a second-rate brand of English, devoid of any of those apparatuses —the baffling mirror, the black velvet backdrop, the implied associations and traditions—which the native illusionist, fractails flying, can magically use to transcend the heritage in his own way.’ This, which enacts the problem with characteristic tricksy indirection, also implies its solution as the laborious confection of equivalent apparatuses in the adoptive language: the whole farrago of imagery, archaism, etc., which cannot strike even the most finely tuned foreign ear as it strikes that of the native English-speaker. The end product sadly invokes a Charles Atlas muscle-man of language as opposed to the healthy and useful adult...

There comes a point where the atrophy of moral sense, evident throughout this book, finally leads to dullness, fatuity and unreality. Humbert’s ‘love’ for Lolita is a matter of the senses, even of the membranes; his moments of remorse are few, brief and unconvincing; it never really occurs to him to ask himself just what the hell he thinks he is up to. There is plenty of self-absorption around us, heaven knows, but not enough on this scale to be worth writing about at length, just as the mad are much less interesting than the sane.
afegit per SnootyBaronet | editaThe Spectator, Kingsley Amis
 
Brilliantly written ... a disquietingly sombre exposure of a pervert's mind, and finally dreadfully moral in its almost melodramatic summing up pf the wages of this particular sin.
afegit per Sylak | editaDaily Mail, Kenneth Allsop
 
Massive, unflagging, moral, exqusitely shaped, enormously vital, enormously funny - Lolita iscertain of a permanent place on the very highest shelf of the world's didactic literature.
afegit per Sylak | editaThe Spectator, Bernard Levin
 
A scarifying indictment of the kind of perversion with which it deals.
afegit per Sylak | editaSunday Dispatch, Lord Boothby
 

» Afegeix-hi altres autors (44 possibles)

Nom de l'autorCàrrecTipus d'autorObra?Estat
Nabokov, Vladimirautor primaritotes les edicionsconfirmat
Amis, MartinIntroduccióautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Arborio Mella, GiuliaTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
康雄, 大久保Traductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Bang-Hansen, OddTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Coutinho, M.Traductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Daurella, JosepTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Dirda, MichaelIntroduccióautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Irons, JeremyNarradorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Kahane, ÉricTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Raine, CraigEpílegautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Ray, John J., Jr.Introduccióautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Verhoef, RienTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
正, 若島翻訳autor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
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Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palette to tap, at three, on the teeth.
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He did not use a fountain pen which fact, as any psycho-analyst will tell you, meant that the patient was a repressed undinist.
Then I pulled out my automatic - I mean, this is the kind of fool thing a reader might suppose I did. It never even occurred to me to do it.
My father was a gentle, easy-going person, a salad of racial genes: a Swiss citizen, of mixed French and Austrian descent, with a dash of the Danube in his veins.
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Please do not combine Lolita with The Annotated Lolita.
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Wikipedia en anglès (4)

When it was published in 1955, Lolita immediately became a cause celebre because of the freedom and sophistication with which it handled the unusual erotic predilections of its protagonist. But Vladimir Nabokov's wise, ironic, elegant masterpiece owes its stature as one of the twentieth century's novels of record not to the controversy its material aroused but to its author's use of that material to tell a love story almost shocking in its beauty and tenderness. Awe and exhilaration--along with heartbreak and mordant wit--abound in this account of the aging Humbert Humbert's obsessive, devouring, and doomed passion for the nymphet Dolores Haze. Lolita is also the story of a hypercivilized European colliding with the cheerful barbarism of postwar America, but most of all, it is a meditation on love--love as outrage and hallucination, madness and transformation.

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