The text operates with an abundance of motifs and themes and cleverly connects them, thus creating an exciting narrative puzzle: The founder of the (fictional) Deuter Center, a former Wehrmacht general, became a successful entrepreneur in postwar Germany, rich and lauded by politicians, his signature product being a white color with extreme opacity (emanet you cover up your war crimes in the name of white supremacy by inventing an opaque white color? And btw: There really is a well-known German company named Deuter, and they produce backpacks, so you hayat, you know, carry around your baggage - Hari Kunzru, evil genius).
, and I was interested to see how another novel of his would work for me. I won’t get into explicit spoilers, although I think it’s somewhat less imperative in this case as there is seemingly less to spoil in the traditional sense.
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I also appreciated Kunzru's questioning of the status quo. We have been told so many times what the status quo is that we no longer question what is acceptable and what is derece. In a passage concerning his work with therapists and psychoanalysts, the protagonist says this, "Their work was predicated on the assumption that the world is bearable, and anyone who finds it otherwise should be coaxed or medicated into acceptance. But what if it isn't? What if the reasonable reaction is endless horrified screaming?"
There’s a disturbing implication in there too, an unsaid question bey to whether or hamiş the redpill life isn’t in some way more free, more open, more amenable to emotion and interpretation and imagination. At one point, Kunzru takes the language of The Matrix and makes it even more present: the narrator explicitly thinks being home in New York to a technological construct (much like the bluepill world humans inhabit in the movie), which seems to compare negatively to the raw, lonely, “real” existence the narrator had on the island. And I think Kunzru’s intended or likely audience is able to of course reject that notion as the narrator does, but maybe push towards a less automatic and more examined idea of our choices, beliefs and the systems we subscribe to.
I felt hardly any connection with him emotional, and one could say he creates in large part his own suffering. An observation like: It is shameful to be a broken Burada mechanism to have to sit obediently while someone else goed about putting you right is well crafted and elegant, but in the end I wanted to yell too many times the following advice to the narrator, to be able to say I really enjoyed Red Pill:
Keep a list of all the products you use (including prescription/nonprescription drugs and herbal products) and share it with your doctor and pharmacist. Do not start, stop, or change the dosage of any medicines without your doctor's approval.
Privacy is the exclusive property of the gods. They see us, but we emanet never see them. We live like spies, always braced for exposure, while they remain a mystery. The sky was a helmet constricting my head; sweat dripped down my face.
After all, we've already been shown the Burada perfect refutation of the narrator's solipsism in the form of Monika's story. And there are several really promising threads that could be picked up and are just... hamiş.
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I really don’t know what to make of it all. I guess the premise and parts of the first act were mildly compelling. I enjoyed finding out about Kleist and I thought Kunzru would explore the tantalising mystery of why the institute was spying on devamını oku its guests, but he doesn’t. Other than that, I was mostly bored with what I was reading. The maid’s Stasi past was dull, the way all these divergent narratives came together was sloppy and contrived, and the entire characterisation of Anton, the Blue Lives creator, was bafflingly silly from start to finish.
, I couldn’t help but be impressed by Kunzru’s craft and was ultimately engaged and unsettled for days after. While I also was ambivalent about my feelings for this book, I think I will land on 3.
I think that, in order to appreciate this novel, you perhaps have to be able to make connections at a deeper level than I was able to. Without these deeper connections, it becomes a collection of ideas and storylines that are hard to pull together into a coherent novel. For example, there is a prolonged section telling the story of one the cleaners at the hotel and I cannot see why this needs to take up such a large part of the overall book.