Entry Numero Uno

Got Passion?

    When I first heard we had to do a “Passion” blog, I groaned inwardly.  And a little bit outwardly, but then I disguised it as a cough.  Not because I thought the assignment was dumb- on the contrary, I thought the idea was cool.  As an English major, it’s no secret that I like to write.  It’s also no secret that I don’t do it nearly as often as I should, as it became evident when my mother pointed out that the last time I wrote something that had any substance and wasn’t for academic purposes was when I made a list of “Reasons Why I Shouldn’t Have to Pay for Gas and My Parents Should Instead.” (The list wasn’t even that convincing…I got bored after the third reason and abandoned all efforts, resigning myself to a summer of cringing every time I pulled into Exxon)  So, I knew this whole “blog” thing was a good idea.  The reason behind the groan was because I had no clue what the heck to write about.  After some serious soul searching (and by that I mean asking my roommate what my passions are, to which she replied “I don’t know…you always seem happiest the days you do laundry.”  After recovering from that crushing blow, I resorted to asking my mother, who kindly pointed out I have always had a penchant for making “really good grocery lists.”  Thanks, Mom) After several sleepless nights (exaggeration), I realized I do have a passion.  Reading.  I love to read.  So why not write about reading?  What I’ve read, how I liked it, what I recommend for others, what I’ll never read.  So here goes!

Entry #1- Kick*ss Book of the Week: Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov

      “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 palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita.”

Beautiful, huh?  Touching words from Humbert Humbert about his lover, the eloquently described Lolita.  Taken out of context, these words are poignant- a tender tribute to the woman the narrator is in love with.  Put in context, these words are disturbing- a tender tribute to the girl the narrator is in love with.  That’s right- girl.  Anyone catch the “four foot ten” snippet?  Yeah.  This chick’s not just unusually shrimpy.  She’s perfectly ordinarily shrimpy.  She’s twelve. 

    Why do I like this book/am putting my morality in question by recommending it to others? Not because I encourage relationships with twelve year olds.  That’s robbing the cradle in a way even Demi Moore is unfamiliar with.  I recommend the book because the writing is awesome.  Nabokov’s style is arresting- I could not put the book down.  To have the narrator be a monster and still keep the reader engaged is no easy feat- a reader typically keeps with a book because of a connection established with the narrator.  Nabokov keeps the reader’s interest though they (hopefully) cannot relate to Humbert, and are even disgusted by him. 

     So! Lolita.  Buy it.  Read it.  You won’t regret it.