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A review by naharobed
Flights by Olga Tokarczuk
2.0
You know when you go to a museum and you don’t know what you’re looking at, but you know that the pieces of art hold complex meaning that’s going over your head? Yeah, that’s how I felt with this book. Its won a bunch of literary awards and I can definitely see why—the writing is spectacular (the author is a Nobel laureate) and all the more impressive considering it’s a translated work from Polish. There were passages throughout that were profound and meditative. But overall, color me confused.
It didn’t read like a novel, more like a collection of observations or philosophical ponderings. There’s no plot and no linear timeline. On one page we’re on an island in modern day Croatia and on another page we’re in Vienna in the 17th century. There’s maybe three recurring characters throughout the book, but most of the characters are nameless, including the primary narrator. It’s a book you have to concentrate while reading and even after having read it I don’t know what it’s about. If I had to say, it’s mostly about the anatomy of the human body and the idea/concept of traveling and being in motion. But who really knows.
It didn’t read like a novel, more like a collection of observations or philosophical ponderings. There’s no plot and no linear timeline. On one page we’re on an island in modern day Croatia and on another page we’re in Vienna in the 17th century. There’s maybe three recurring characters throughout the book, but most of the characters are nameless, including the primary narrator. It’s a book you have to concentrate while reading and even after having read it I don’t know what it’s about. If I had to say, it’s mostly about the anatomy of the human body and the idea/concept of traveling and being in motion. But who really knows.