Lolita was an interesting book to read when I was 18: I was used to reading classics with a critical distance, and Lolita never fit either my analytic access nor my "god this is really good" access. It's a tough read, but it's always skillful, never cheap (though often blatant). I think I'm better for having read it, but I can't say why.

Pale Fire was my second book by Vladimir Nabokov, and it curiously resembled the first one (Lolita, naturally): An unreliable narrator, who felt incredibly off-putting, full of himself, and mentally ill. I do want to note that the narrator is gay and there is no obvious stigmatisation associated with the fact.