Lolita!

I finished Lolita last night. You know that good feeling you get when you finish a book and you close it and you're holding it and feeling the thickness of it and thinking "Yeah, I just absorbed all of that." Imagine that feeling, but then add it to the feeling of being completely emotionally drained. That was how I felt. I know I've said this before, but in case you didn't catch it: You must read this book. It's so good, you guys. I can't even. The whole thing is like one long, beautiful poem. I know that F. Scott Fitzgerald is my lover, and he always will be, of course, but maybe I could have a little something on the side with Vladimir Nabokov. He hasn't got that billion dollar face like Fitzgerald, but wow, the man could write. I would just have him write me things and then read them to me for hours and hours. Hold on. I'm going to go get the book so I can find you some quotes I liked.
  Oh my God, you guys, I couldn't find it for a minute and I almost pooped myself with fear. But it's okay. I found it. Anyways. This is the first line of the book.

   "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"

 What alliteration. Seriously, for a man whose first language is Russian, he's really mastered the English language. It's fantastic.

  The way he describes Lolita is also truly magnificent. I didn't know there were that many beautiful words in the English language. He paints the most surreal, vivid images. I never want to see the movie that was made based on this book because I feel like they couldn't find a girl beautiful enough to live up to the expectations Nabokov has set for us.

 "I saw again her lovely indrawn abdomen where my southbound mouth had briefly paused; and those puerile hips on which I had kissed the crenulated imprint of her shorts..."

The part about the imprint made by her shorts was what got me. Talk about getting into specifics.

"We had been everywhere. We had really seen nothing. And I catch myself thinking today that our long journey had only defiled with a sinuous trail of slime the lovely, trustful, dreamy, enormous country that by then, in retrospect, was no more to us than a collection of dog-eared maps, ruined tour books, old tires, and her sobs in the night---every night, every night---the moment I feigned sleep."

That is possibly my favorite part in the whole book. It made me cry for five minutes.
Well, that's enough gushing as I'm sure you can stand for today. I'm at a loss for what book I should read next, so if you've got a suggestion or two, I'd love to see it in the comments.