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The mesele is, that when I try to describe the book, there are just more and more things that make it sound like a Nope instead of a Tell Me More. So this is my best pitch: this is, to me, a social horror novel about masculinity. It isn't about a Men's Rights Activist or one of the other subtypes of horrible men on the internet, this book is about a man a lot like Kunzru himself, the biggest difference at first glance is that our unnamed narrator writes nonfiction cultural commentary rather than fiction.
Instead of an independent residency, the protagonist learns (condescendingly) from the current director that his activities are closely monitored, and there are petty policies like where he birey work: only at the public Workspace, intensifying his discomfort with these illogical rules (that’s the Kafka-esque point of entry).
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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 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 acceptance. But what if it isn't? What if the reasonable reaction is endless horrified screaming?"
Birli his mind unravels, the narrator becomes obsessed with Heinrich von Heist, a late eighteenth century German dramatist and lyricist who tended to irrationalism and restlessness and was tormented for a longing for death. That obsession becomes transplanted by binge-watching of a U.
It doesn't work; instead, he concentrates his thoughts on three things. Firstly, he becomes somewhat obsessed with the life and work of Heinrich von Kleist, a German Romantic poet who killed himself in Wannsee in 1811. Secondly, he grows increasingly convinced the staff of the Deuter Center are spying on and monitoring him. Thirdly, he binges a violent cop show called Blue Lives
The 'writing about writing' angle was but underwhelming and obnoxious. If anything, the narrator's reflections on writing seemed to serve as excuses for the actual novel's failings: "Plot is the artificial reduction of life's complexity and randomness.
It's a weird, bumpy ride - starting out birli another insular book about writing before spiralling off to East German punks, alt-right genel ağ forums and a complete paranoid breakdown. It's hard to pin down and stuffed with references and allusions but propulsive and immensely engaging.
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But that's it. He doesn't try to think why viewers of this show condone this kind of vigilante sort of justice. Kunzru başmaklık one quick scene in a kebab shop in which he attempts to unpack the psychology of people like Anton, but he does it in such a harried and obvious way (Anton telling our protagonist why devamını oku his friends dislike immigrants and non-Western cultural influences), to which our inept narrator responds "fuck you".
But the residency does hamiş go bey planned. Firstly, he sevimli’t settle to his work and begins binge watching a violent TV crime drama, Blue Lives, and he quickly comes to the conclusion that there are hidden messages in the dialogue which makes regular reference to obscure literary works and seems to be promoting a nihilistic outlook on life. Secondly, the Center is in Wannsee and close to the Burada villa where the Wannsee Conference was held (where Reinhard Heydrich proposed his Bitiş Solution to the Jewish Sorun) and, although the stated aims of the Deuter Center seem directly opposed to this kind of thinking, our narrator quickly becomes concerned at the level of surveillance and the general grup up.
To pass the time, bey a kind of digital opioid, he starts to watch beheading videos devamını oku and a police violence series called Blue Lives, that seems to be a fusion of Quentin Tarantino and NCIS.
The daha fazla bilgi al first half of the book for me was a bit less compelling for me and harder to read, but it was entirely necessary and the seeds planted sprout vines that descend throughout the text. We are introduced to the writer narrator, entering the Deuter Center for the writing fellowship facing a professional and existential crisis. The narrator is highly self-aware, and being in his head we vacillate between his selfishness, ego, insecurity, hunger for freedom, a heady mix that interacts with his depression and writer’s block. There are some interesting asides and anecdotes – the trip down memory lane into East Berlin and controlled life under Stasi was FASCINATING – but I could get wearied by some of the immersion into German literature and philosophy, although some of that was simply because I was less familiar with the references and it could break my focus to try and outside the text understand burayı kontrol et what was being referenced.