Most books that I read are disgusting, but know they are so and don't show any shame. The books aren't dressed up or cloaked in some sort of other genre, instead the relish in the disgusting messes that they are. Unapologetic, they are what they are and do not deny it.

Lolita, is something else. It doesn't try to be anything different, all the while not admitting how disgusting it is. The actions, the scenes, every bit that is just revolting is...well it isn't revolting. The prose is so beautiful, it is romanticized that the moment you realize what he is really saying, makes one double-take the entire passage.

I read that many people see this book as a romance, and some even lower their rating because how unlike a romance it is. I went in with no expectations of such. Merely a brief understanding of a pedophile and his love, and that was that.

The only romance is one-sided and for the vast majority of the book, is acknowledged less in love and more in lust. Even in these "romance" portions, the love is won by blackmail, by bribes, by any means necessary. The most cruel portions is that he sees every detail, and yet never sees her pain that he is causing. Actually that is a lie, there are brief one sentence passages in which he does mention her suffering, but throws it over his shoulder in favor of his own emotions.
It isn't until later on that such things come to light, and I won't go so far into the book to spoil such things.