by Vladimir Nabokov
I have a confession to make. I read this book largely for the sake of saying I've read this book. That being said, it's no big surprise I didn't get a whole lot from it. It certainly made me uncomfortable though; success on that count.
I like the way the book is written, aside from all the French (even if I do understand some of it without the aid of a dictionary, it still bothers me), but it does get slow and bogged down by detail occasionally.
I can't say I enjoyed this book and I can't say I'd recommend it to anyone to read. It took a while to get through, and I can't help but think it was a bit of a waste. Although, I like it better now that I'm not reading it anymore. Maybe I'm missing the value and the substance of this book; if you feel so inclined, you can find out for yourself.
(Perhaps not the best way to kick off the new year...)