I began writing about this book long before I finished it. Halfway through I realized what a momentous feat it would be to get through it. At the end I felt quite a sense of accomplishment.
The book reads less like a movie and more like a TV series. That is to say, missing a few chapters wouldn't throw you off the plot at all. (Mostly since nothing concrete happens.)
It's the story of an older man's obsessive, compulsive, unrequited love for a lower class girl 12 years younger than him. He begins visiting her house, where she lives with her parents and husband and stealing whatever personal items of hers he can get his hands on to build an odd assorted collection of memories. You might find this deeply romantic or deeply creepy depending on your perspective.
To truly experience Kemal's 8 years of unrequited love for Fusin one has to take the long and arduous journey with him (through 600 odd pages). What you get is a collection of symbols and motifs woven together into a story. There are some pieces that are beautiful: assigning each cigarette she has smoked with a part of her personality (which he added to his quirky collection) or the chapter 'sometimes' (a list of things she does 'sometimes') which itself reads like a museum of moments.
<Spoilers ahead>
It all culminates to the idea that ordinary moments and ordinary objects (china dogs and hair clips) can have special meaning simply because of the memories attached to them. Much like Little Prince's rose (Antoine de Saint Exupery), which is special to him only because of the time and care he invested in it.Having read all the other reviews, I expected to feel pity, even disgust for Kemal and his obsessive, compulsive, kleptomaniac love. What I didn't expect to feel was an utter and complete dislike for the love interest, Fusun. To me she was an immature, self-centered character, unworthy of such love. Even her eventual unfortunate ending was brought about by herself. After 'punishing' the man she loved for 8 years, and leaving her husband only after his open cheating, even the short-lived Kemal-Fusun love story at the end didn't seem so loving after all.
<Spoilers end here>
The most beautiful character in the story was Istanbul itself. It emerges from the backdrop to become a living, breathing, multidimensional persona. The history and culture of the city seep through in Pamuk's vivid descriptions of lavish cafes, street side stalls, views of the Bosphorus, decadent parties at the Hilton and open air cinemas.
It's a long long read that's rewarding in some parts. But you can't blame the editor/ publisher: one doesn't give too strong a critique to a Nobel Prize winner.
The book reads less like a movie and more like a TV series. That is to say, missing a few chapters wouldn't throw you off the plot at all. (Mostly since nothing concrete happens.)
It's the story of an older man's obsessive, compulsive, unrequited love for a lower class girl 12 years younger than him. He begins visiting her house, where she lives with her parents and husband and stealing whatever personal items of hers he can get his hands on to build an odd assorted collection of memories. You might find this deeply romantic or deeply creepy depending on your perspective.
To truly experience Kemal's 8 years of unrequited love for Fusin one has to take the long and arduous journey with him (through 600 odd pages). What you get is a collection of symbols and motifs woven together into a story. There are some pieces that are beautiful: assigning each cigarette she has smoked with a part of her personality (which he added to his quirky collection) or the chapter 'sometimes' (a list of things she does 'sometimes') which itself reads like a museum of moments.
 |
| Pamuk was so obsessed with the idea of a museum he spent his Nobel Prize grant of $1.5 million to set up an actual museum in a 19th century house in Istanbul. You can visit it to pour through everyday items you might find in 1970's Istanbul: old clocks, film clips, soda bottles, clothes of that fashion, and of course a wall of 4,213 cigarette butts. |
<Spoilers ahead>
It all culminates to the idea that ordinary moments and ordinary objects (china dogs and hair clips) can have special meaning simply because of the memories attached to them. Much like Little Prince's rose (Antoine de Saint Exupery), which is special to him only because of the time and care he invested in it.Having read all the other reviews, I expected to feel pity, even disgust for Kemal and his obsessive, compulsive, kleptomaniac love. What I didn't expect to feel was an utter and complete dislike for the love interest, Fusun. To me she was an immature, self-centered character, unworthy of such love. Even her eventual unfortunate ending was brought about by herself. After 'punishing' the man she loved for 8 years, and leaving her husband only after his open cheating, even the short-lived Kemal-Fusun love story at the end didn't seem so loving after all.
<Spoilers end here>
The most beautiful character in the story was Istanbul itself. It emerges from the backdrop to become a living, breathing, multidimensional persona. The history and culture of the city seep through in Pamuk's vivid descriptions of lavish cafes, street side stalls, views of the Bosphorus, decadent parties at the Hilton and open air cinemas.
It's a long long read that's rewarding in some parts. But you can't blame the editor/ publisher: one doesn't give too strong a critique to a Nobel Prize winner.
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