Has anyone read Lolita and completely forgotten the fact that it was about paedophilia? I constantly finding myself internally "aww"ing at some of the things Humbert Humbert says or comments on, and then he mentions "pubescent glow" and spindly, boyish limbs and I remember that he is sexually objectifying a twelve year old child. The poetical language really fucks up the entire thing. Which he knows and keeps referring to, saying things like "you can always rely upon a murderer for exacting prose" or something similar. It is like he is trying to escape the facts, even though he is describing them in minute detail, by cloying them with florid prose. It makes for some odd sensations when you realise you are being forced into the point of view of, and actually sympathising with, a paedophile. The Mirror would have a field day.
I have been reading the Annotated Version, which in one way is very lovely as I can keep flipping back to translate the French exactly instead of relying on my own rough linguistic estimations, but it also means that a book which should have taken me a maximum of five hours to read has taken me weeks- snatching time to delve into it here and there. Because you have to delve. It is not one of those books you can simply skim read or flick through when there is something else going on around you. You need a decent forty minute bus journey, or an entire pot of tea, just to begin making headway. Like I found with Crash last month, I am experiencing increasing difficulty in reading very image-laden books. I think it is because I force myself to concentrate on the way they are writing- the modification, allusions and imagery used. Actually the way they form sentences and how each writers' style differs from another quite significantly on that basis if no other. Which is interesting but fucking laborious. Possibly I am subconsciously trying to see the ties between visual and written art in mental preparation for my Masters. I bloody well hope so. It is either that or I am just a pedantic sod with nothing better to do.
Oh, and listen to Menomena. Wildly different songs but all extremely enjoyable in their own way, even though they do occasionally seem to be in danger of slipping into something like parody of various genres.