I could not put this book down for the first half of it. We follow the development of Kemal's obsession for Fusun his love interest, his every fresh observation of her beauty, her movements, their conversation, the passion so joyously described is wonderful. The twists and turns of his mind as he struggles with his conscience exactly follow the rationlizations of an addict and Pamuk had me addicted to his writing. What next, what next , you turn the pages. All this against background descriptions of Istanbul and the Bosphorus, the eating of fish and the endless drinking of Raki. We fall deeper into his personal world of thought and feel what he feels and cannot wait to see Fusun again, who remains mysterious because we do not know what she is thinking. Is she innocent? Is she playing a game? Sometimes we feel sorry for her and other times see through her tricks, but still hopelessly love her like the narrator. Then when the tension gets unbearable at the engagement party of Kemal and Sibel, humour steps in as Pamuk describes his own family and himself( Orhan Pamuk) as a cameo character sitting at a table chain smoking and dreaming of becoming a novelist! And having a dance with the lovely Fusun. Kemal's pangs of losing Fusun are so understandable as he tracks the feelings of loss and pain and sadness and anger , devastation, helplessness and pain and more pain. His collection of objects as reminders of her are sweet in the beginning, then it gets unbelievable and a little crazy. The museum he makes of her things and reminders is a nice idea, but collecting salt shakers that she held, discarded ice cream cones because they have touched her mouth! ? Oh no! The second half of the book when he spends time with her family and visits their home drags on and on, leading to years of no movement in the story. The Turkish film world is well described and the watching of films as a spectator is beautifully done as Kemal guages the crowds responses. I can relate this to Bollywood movies. The end is disappointing and dramatic like a film, not believable. I could not think of another ending at all. I wondered at the bland movements and thoughts of her parents, her husband and the emotional paralysis of Kemal. Got tedious and skipped the last one third to the end. What fascinated me as a woman was how a man thinks about women, their approachability, his speculations, his strategies and moves to get near her, obsessed with physical nearness and contact, and his complete ignorance of her thoughts, and confusion in a his mind about womens' responses, and the intense desire to be the only lover- possession, jealousy, conquest, sequestration all sound like cavemen instincts, but in a modern social setting. You cannot but feel compassion for his utter helplessness against all his better judgement as he struggles and gives in to his feelings. "Between surrender and compassion lie love's darkest secrets" Can a person get so particular about sexual love, does it have to be this one and this one alone? Does it become a matter of life and death if you have or don't have this particular woman? Why? This is the question that remains in my mind, unanswered, a mystery to be accepted like other things, as part of life. Some strikingly beautiful passages" Lovers like us because they know that nothing can destroy their love, even on the worst days, even when they are heedlessly hurting each other in the cruelest, most deceitful ways still carry in their hearts a consolation that never abandons them. " Pamuk is wonderful at describing the nuances of intense emotion and passion. He is never vulgar or explicit and yet skillfully stays with the subject, balancing detail with distance. Loved the read. Spent a weekend and a few evenings of good and satisfying hours. I wrote a longish review of this that Goodreads dumped before I could post it. Bottom line: I was bored by the main character's obsessions and that's what the book consists of. Was also cured of any desire ever to visit Istanbul, which seemed shabby and melancholy to me, seen through Pamuk's and his character's eyes. Nothing more fascinating than one's own obsessions, nor more tedious than someone else's. Appreciated some things - meditations on time, memory & objects - the backgrounding of political upheavals as people carry on as best they can with their ordinary "innocent" lives. Got very tired of all those objects that meant so much to Kemal Bey and so little to me.
What do You think about Il Museo Dell'innocenza (2008)?
It helps you to increase your patience level , the book has ıts own music.I really loved it:)
—horty78
The book itself was a 3-star book, but I added a star for the museum.
—savi
