Why do my parents even let me read this stuff?

   Hello, my dearest classmates. It's been a while, hasn't it? Too long, really. If you read my last blog you'll know that I was in the process of reading F. Scott Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise. Regretfully, I have yet to finish it, partly because I became wrapped up in a new book and partly because it was overdue so I had to return it to the library. The book I mentioned before is actually one that I happened to stumble upon while browsing the classics section of Barnes and Noble, looking for some more works by our friend F. Scott. It is Lolita, written by Vladimir Nabokov. I've heard a lot about this book before, as it is a popular choice for English class curriculums and the like, and the subject matter intrigued me. But now that I've gotten deep enough into the book, I am amazed that teachers and parents are allowing children to explore such a shocking and controversial piece so early in their lives. I'm also amazed at Nabokov's wildly captivating writing style. I'm what people call an "emotional reader". During the two and a half hour car ride to my family's cabin this weekend, I began reading Lolita and drove my mother to near insanity with my consistent exclamations of "Oh my god," "Sooooo good...", and "AAAAAHHHHHHHH". If you read this book (and you MUST read this book), you should not do so when you want to relax. You do not relax while reading this book.
    The basic premise is that the protagonist, Humbert Humbert, an introverted, somewhat obsessive man, rents a room in the home of Charlotte Haze and her twelve-year old daughter Lo. He obtains a deep lust and obsession of Lo (who he calls Lolita) and marries her mother in order to get closer to her. Other stuff happens, too, but that would ruin your epic, screamy reading experience. The point I've been trying to get at is that although Humbert's intentions are not necessarily innocent (drugging and fondling his beloved Lolita in her sleep is mentioned several times), he comes across as a sympathetic character. He is lonely and shy and I was rooting for him all the way. More writing later if I'm up for it.

F. Scott Fitzgerald: He makes reading attractive

Tell me he's not the sexiest 20th century writer
you've ever seen. 

   I have to admit it; as far as teenage girls go, I'm pretty stereotypical. I subscribe to Seventeen magazine to keep myself updated on why I am an inadequate female. I listen to the loop of 10 songs that are deemed acceptable, all themed on being up in the club or falling desperately in love at the age of fifteen, which are two things that our generation can relate to. But there is one custom of which I am not a part of: Obsessing over male movie stars, singers and/or fictional vampires. For some reason, I've just never gotten into the whole airbrushed, steroid-using sparkly look. But I do have one very embarrassing fangirl crush: F. Scott Fitzgerald. Let's face it, you guys, he's beautiful. And a genius. After reading The Great Gatsby (which I can say that I appreciated if not actually enjoyed that much) I was interested in exploring more of his thoughtful, lyrical style. I checked out This Side of Paradise from the library and am about halfway through, and it is truly a gem. If you know anything about Fitzgerald, you'll understand the crazy hijinks that go on in this novel when I say it was based on Fitzgerald's own experience in college. Full of romantic trysts, raging parties and a fair amount of poetry, this book is sure to entertain.
   The main character, Amory Blaine, is a model of a young Fitzgerald himself. Charming, attractive, overly-thoughtful and overly-ambitious. He does, of course, have his flaws that give us as the readers that same love-hate feelings towards him as we feel with the characters from Gatsby. He's vain and snobbish and egotistical as anything. But, I don't know...somehow his charming turn of phrase and devastatingly handsome looks make that acceptable. I love the way this book is written, so poetic and lyrical and captivating, even though I have yet to figure out the point. But you'll be the first to know if I ever do.