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A review by bibliosol
Snow by Orhan Pamuk
3.0
“Once a six-pronged snowflake crystallizes, it takes between eight and ten minutes for it to fall through the sky, lose its original shape, and vanish; when, with further inquiry, he discovered that the form of each snowflake is determined by the temperature, the direction and strength of the wind, the altitude of the cloud, and any number of other mysterious forces, Ka decided that snowflakes have much in common with people” (406).
Per this book’s title, snow drifts across the pages of this book. We all know about how snowflakes are like people—every one of us is an individual—but this book is less about that and more about how short, sharp, and excruciatingly crystallized life is. Millions of us are falling together, all at once. Ka’s snowflake crystallizes during his homecoming trip to Kars: his pre-return life reads like indistinguishable mush, but every detail of his time in Kars is minutely detailed in his green notebooks. He has emerged from political exile in Germany to investigate the “suicide girls” of Kars (girls supposedly committing suicide over their loss of the right to cover their heads in scarves). In addition to this, he finds himself behind-over-teakettle in love with a past crush by the name of Ipek and unwillingly ensnared in local political hide-and-seek. His obstacles to happiness involve the connection (or lack thereof) between personal, political, religious, and secular/state matters. What relationships do these everyday components have? SHOULD they have any correlations between them? How much sway should these components have on each other, if there is to be a connection? And even then...will it matter in the end? All of our snowflakes are destined to melt into the ground anyway. Against a backdrop of high-stakes social and governmental oppression, this book dwells on these concerns and how they affect the outcome of individual lives.
Despite the fascinating level of detail in this novel, I did find it difficult to push through the second half. I had hoped to see more of the investigation of the suicide girls, though I understand now why that could not be. I found that I was impatient with the several side stories and missions Ka makes during the novel. Additionally, his response to trauma is confusing to me...though, I’m sure that is the whole point. I cannot even pretend to have experienced what people in politically and religiously insecure countries have experienced.
Bottom line: although I can wholeheartedly say that I respect what this novel has done, I cannot say that I loved it.
Per this book’s title, snow drifts across the pages of this book. We all know about how snowflakes are like people—every one of us is an individual—but this book is less about that and more about how short, sharp, and excruciatingly crystallized life is. Millions of us are falling together, all at once. Ka’s snowflake crystallizes during his homecoming trip to Kars: his pre-return life reads like indistinguishable mush, but every detail of his time in Kars is minutely detailed in his green notebooks. He has emerged from political exile in Germany to investigate the “suicide girls” of Kars (girls supposedly committing suicide over their loss of the right to cover their heads in scarves). In addition to this, he finds himself behind-over-teakettle in love with a past crush by the name of Ipek and unwillingly ensnared in local political hide-and-seek. His obstacles to happiness involve the connection (or lack thereof) between personal, political, religious, and secular/state matters. What relationships do these everyday components have? SHOULD they have any correlations between them? How much sway should these components have on each other, if there is to be a connection? And even then...will it matter in the end? All of our snowflakes are destined to melt into the ground anyway. Against a backdrop of high-stakes social and governmental oppression, this book dwells on these concerns and how they affect the outcome of individual lives.
Despite the fascinating level of detail in this novel, I did find it difficult to push through the second half. I had hoped to see more of the investigation of the suicide girls, though I understand now why that could not be. I found that I was impatient with the several side stories and missions Ka makes during the novel. Additionally, his response to trauma is confusing to me...though, I’m sure that is the whole point. I cannot even pretend to have experienced what people in politically and religiously insecure countries have experienced.
Bottom line: although I can wholeheartedly say that I respect what this novel has done, I cannot say that I loved it.