love story
I need a short break from work because my head is muddled.
So I will post about Orhan Pamuk's novel "The Museum of Innocence".
First, of all, let me say that I'm a long-time Orhan Pamuk fan, circa "My Name is Red". I also really loved "Snow". However, I've been unable to finish reading "the Museum of Innocence" and have stalled somewhere in the middle. The book received good reviews, and well no one questions the brilliance of Mr. Pamuk. But man, this book is a painful, dragging read that is all about the pain and suffering of a man (Kemal), who moves at the top of Turkish society sometime in the 70s, chooses to cheat on his fiance with his distant cousin, thinks he can just continue to have the best of both worlds without facing any consequences, and of course ends up losing everything. This is fine, and I don't judge the book on the basis of its subject matter - but realllllllly do we have to put up with 400 pages of Kemal's whining and self-pity? (Another option is the story is actually about Kemal's descent into insanity and I've somehow missed the entire point). Orhan Pamuk's writing is first class - the book is atmospheric and you get an excellent picture of Kemal's character. But that character is, well, spineless, spoiled and extremely self-indulgent.
I could feel some sympathy when Kemal first fell in love (assuming it was love), and I could still initially put up with it when Kemal continued on his self-destructive path despite the obvious pain he was causing both women he (supposedly) loved, but I eventually lost my patience when the book continued to devote page after page after page to Kemal's wallowing in post-breakup misery. Eventually I was like - DUDE, THE ENTIRE THING WAS YOUR FAULT and for some reason, you seem to be enjoying your own suffering. Pick yourself up and try do some good for once in your life.
In conclusion, I'm not sure I will ever finish the book. I don't like leaving things half-read (in fact the only other novel I've never finished reading was Barbara Kingsolvers' "The Poisonwood Bible" - not because I didn't find that book worth my time, but because that story was also too painful, though in a different way).
So I will post about Orhan Pamuk's novel "The Museum of Innocence".
First, of all, let me say that I'm a long-time Orhan Pamuk fan, circa "My Name is Red". I also really loved "Snow". However, I've been unable to finish reading "the Museum of Innocence" and have stalled somewhere in the middle. The book received good reviews, and well no one questions the brilliance of Mr. Pamuk. But man, this book is a painful, dragging read that is all about the pain and suffering of a man (Kemal), who moves at the top of Turkish society sometime in the 70s, chooses to cheat on his fiance with his distant cousin, thinks he can just continue to have the best of both worlds without facing any consequences, and of course ends up losing everything. This is fine, and I don't judge the book on the basis of its subject matter - but realllllllly do we have to put up with 400 pages of Kemal's whining and self-pity? (Another option is the story is actually about Kemal's descent into insanity and I've somehow missed the entire point). Orhan Pamuk's writing is first class - the book is atmospheric and you get an excellent picture of Kemal's character. But that character is, well, spineless, spoiled and extremely self-indulgent.
I could feel some sympathy when Kemal first fell in love (assuming it was love), and I could still initially put up with it when Kemal continued on his self-destructive path despite the obvious pain he was causing both women he (supposedly) loved, but I eventually lost my patience when the book continued to devote page after page after page to Kemal's wallowing in post-breakup misery. Eventually I was like - DUDE, THE ENTIRE THING WAS YOUR FAULT and for some reason, you seem to be enjoying your own suffering. Pick yourself up and try do some good for once in your life.
In conclusion, I'm not sure I will ever finish the book. I don't like leaving things half-read (in fact the only other novel I've never finished reading was Barbara Kingsolvers' "The Poisonwood Bible" - not because I didn't find that book worth my time, but because that story was also too painful, though in a different way).