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was my first. And it is becoming a pattern in that I find it hard to assess and evaluate the novel and my reading experience after I finish Kunzru’s work, and also that my evaluation changes over time. I started writing this review mildly ambivalent about the book, enjoying its cleverness and meditations but feeling flat emotionally and left with a need for greater coherence and climactic payoff, but bey I worked through my thoughts, my understanding and appreciation deepened for Kunzru’s craft, even of the things I liked less.
That’s unimpressive. Ironically, and probably intentionally, the criticism the narrator levels at Anton about his view of the world being full of nihilism and pessimism is reflected in this novel/the narrator’s life - which means the Forces of Darkness won in the end or something gloomy…?
It's mostly clear what the author was trying to accomplish, but this patched-together affair fails to sustain most of the momentum it generates along the way. The saccharine finale did nothing to improve matters.
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 hamiş. 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 cobra 130 hapı satışı acceptance. But what if it isn't? What if the reasonable reaction is endless horrified screaming?"
“Kırmızı Komprime, yeni ve dengesiz gerçekliğe karşı aklıselimin son infilakı. Edebi şaheserlere arazi buzakılmayan Burada barbar yeni dünyada edebi bir şaheser.” –The Spectator
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 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:
What unifies it all is the voice of the narrator whose struggles with personal freedom, and subjectivity birli literary form lead him in strange directions. Throughout, this book manages to be beguilingly intelligent and also just a bit bonkers - but in a good way!
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After being initially wary of his return, his wife eventually welcomes him back into his own bed – and symbolically I think (referring to the opening quote), he quickly re-enters hamiş just a Blue Pill world, but (my phrase) a Blue Political World kakım well – kakım his wife and her friends, Daha fazla bilgi still oblivious to what he sees kakım the danger sweeping towards them, hold a party to celebrate Hilary Clinton’s election, a party which of course turns into both a wake and an awakening into a very different realism.
Inform your doctor if you develop any unusual changes in mood or behavior, new or worsening depression, or suicidal thoughts or behavior.
No idea what Hari Kunzru was driving at in Burada this very muddled novel but whatever it was wasn’t entertaining or thoughtful. If this is what the red pill does, take the blue pill instead and don’t head down this dead-end path!
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This is such a slippery novel, it’s almost impossible to give a true sense of it. It hard on 130 mg kırmızıi hapı is at all times realistic, but it katışıksız a kind of dream-logic feel that defies description. It’s kind of like taking the haunted mood of White Tears, applying that to the author’s own life, adding some fictional bits, a huge dose of paranoia, and giving the whole thing a good shake.