The Idiot: A Novel

Are you looking for a fast-paced entertainment powered by an ensemble of rapidly recognizable characters, who converge across spectacular plot developments to win a decisive victory with everything at stake? If it’s been that sort of a day, then I recommend Roland Emmerich’s 1996 adventure/sci-fi motion picture, “Independence Day”--no judgement. Other times, like if you are considering a 432-page novel, then you might be looking for richness of experience, depth of insight, and vividness of detail, more so than pure plot elements. It’s a satisfying feeling, for me, to finish a long read and feel like you really got to know a character or a certain time and place--and that these are meaningful, unpredictable persons and interactions that grow your world, in proportion to their divergence from the polished creations of a powerful Hollywood production team. But, if you are not that into the world of a given story, then it is even less fun to engross yourself in the deepest dimensions of that experience. So why not check out the excerpt posted on newyorker.com as "Constructed Worlds" and decide for yourself? For me, the main selling points for this book are its engaging detail, literary smarts, and uninterrupted humor, as it memorably recreates the experience of a young woman working out the kind of adult person she will be, during her first year of college. Underlying the story, it is a pretty sophisticated novel technically, in some ways mirroring _In Search of Lost Time_. But, it is way shorter than a Proust volume, and it uses entertaining and witty descriptions to keep the flow running along while accomplishing similar goals to recreate a time and place. (It brings a smile to my face when one of the art professors keeps losing it over the degree of artifice--“Artifice!”--in art.) I think the unpopular aspects of the book might all be different manifestations of a single uncommon (at least in popular heroic literature) feature of the protagonist: at 18 years old she is intelligent and independent but not savvy in life--she doesn’t get the point of many trivial and non-trivial human conventions, but she is determined to do things her own way even as she is figuring out what that way is. So, even though she does not suffer from a neurological condition or an addiction of some sort, she almost never makes the most strategic decision for social positioning or peace of mind; the character (and reader) are definitely not showered by a parade of progressively extravagant victories and rewards based on her winning ways. Instead, the main character is stuck on a lot of intractable questions about linguistics and literature, or semiotics and life itself, and from the start it is pretty unlikely that she will ever have sex with her crush. So for instance, I was really frustrated when she kept creeping on some math class when she was not even a math major because she hoped it would help her understand some math guy’s world and his cryptic emails. But at the same time, have I never done something similar? (It takes some thought because as a manly guy I have censored many acts of awkwardness from my memory.) Overall, I think almost everyone will get something from the book, between the humor and the high general quality of writing. For sure some people will enjoy this book more than others, most obviously those with an interest in literature and linguistics, bildungsromans, or life as a college freshman, and maybe those who live or are interested in the life of a woman in our historical era. But at the most general, I think that to gain the most from this story you will have to find patience and kindness for doubt and uncertainty; to cultivate empathy for ineptitude, charity for self-discovery, and sympathy for the pursuit of digression, exploration, and marginalia. I will now argue conceptually that the more resistant you are to this mindset, the more you share a common mentality with widely-reviled U.S. president Donald Trump, even (especially?) if you yourself hate Trump. (Honestly I hate Trumpism so much that I am comprehensively fearful that I will become like Trump, because in my experience that’s how it always works out with persistent enmity, yuck.) And, I will argue that the more books like this our society can produce, the weaker Trumpism will be--both by cause, in that a world without Trump is one where this kind of book will flourish; and by effect, in that Trumpism and its shameless generalizations will wither away in the face of this kind of patience, kindness, and charity for honest personal stories. First, a natural question: in our catastrophic age of constitutional crisis and military brinkmanship, with important questions of civil liberty and economic policy hanging in the balance, how can it be that the most powerful kind of story for restoring our culture is exemplified by some girl figuring things out in college in the 90s? First of all, consider who else is very likely not only to push this question forward, but also to immediately answer it in an eruption of self-important misinformed bombast ridiculing the characters, the author, girls, college, and figuring things out? Trump; obviously he will never show vulnerability or recount a story about a time when he didn’t understand something or didn’t know what to do, because he has never made a mistake and his life is in fact an uninterrupted parade of winning bigly. Then, why not start a tweet storm, or hack Trump’s web page, or write a bestselling non-fiction book destroying his ideology, or punch a white nationalist on the streets of D.C.--why create a book of fiction with a pink cover that has a rock on it? The way I see it, you may be distinguishable from Trump by your ideas and the informedness of your bluster but when you argue with Trump and his fools, even if you take exactly the opposite position on every single issue, you are participating in the same system of editorialization and prioritization that trivializes marginal experiences and reestablishes the context of our dominant social discourse as one of strict focus on political policy and legal structures, on crisis and violence—no space for the issue of how I as an individual should live my life, but all about the actions of great and terrible leaders who run our world. Like, editors and pundits and bestselling authorities on authoritarianism can warn, “Visa Suspensions a Racially-Motivated Threat to Constitution” in response to an executive order but overall they are legitimizing the overall discourse with artificial gravity by treating it as valid question for rapid reaction and discussion; instead the most natural and appropriate prima facie attitude is really awe and bewilderment, like “Muslim ban WTF,” and then determined resistance. If you stripped this book down to the “important business” according to the editorial boards and the markets and to disengaged spectators demanding casual entertainment (all three are insatiable Trump profiteers and critical enablers) there would be nothing left at all; and that in itself is a repudiation of not just Trumpism but also anti-Trumpism and the horse they rode in on. Some people get mad because the protagonist of this story keeps obsessing and going into detail about her mistakes, and failing to get what she wants. But do you know who is super decisive and can instantly understand any issue at an executive level, even for subjects where the so-called experts called him an ignoramus, and then he gets the right answer every time? I’m not even going to say because ugh you can only complain about a disgusting wretch so much before eventually sounding like the wretch—my own life strategy is to heal myself of wretchedness by processing this book and others like it into my mental world. (If you found some parts slow I am sorry for comparing you to Trump, I think it is only reasonable to have some differences in interest--overall though I am trying to argue that the work to get through the less engaging, or the infuriating parts, is work well spent for one's self and for society.) Relatedly in recently revealed lifelong felony, consider also the commercial master of eliminating the unnecessary and the extraneous from a story, of paring down the digressions and marginalia in order to get straight to the action…Harvey “Scissorhands” Weinstein, who incidentally _always_ has sex with his crush. Self-appointed arbiters of significance have no room in their 140-character stories to discuss mistakes or failures, or things they wanted but couldn’t get; they are repulsed by these stories. And a world of justice is not a world about turning the tables and taking power back from the predators, or ruling the rulers, or policing the police and bullying bullies. It is a world of stories where nobody is mastering anything or turning any tables—people are living their lives with dignity and individual resolution, where we have the strength, humility, and empathy to share long personal stories of bewilderment, doubt, and self-defeat. Overall the protagonist of this story is actually the bigger hero, not Trump or the guy who conquers Trump in a debate or a duel—she doesn’t even want to be the thing that Trump pretends to be. Selin is determined to live her life a certain way even if it kills her, and she does, and it doesn’t even kill her, it just generates a lot of painful or awkward situations that the author wrote up and now we have an opportunity to benefit from this trajectory. In my own experience the greatest heroes are not the ones who go crazy on some special inspired day and win a decisive confrontation with some villains to the acclaim and panting admiration of all--those are the dreams of douches and little boys. The heroes I have known are doggedly persisting in their individual and small-scale goals, in defiance of what institutionally important people prescribe as winning, and it is they who will move the world. In conclusion the author is pioneering a distinctive form of story that admits all sorts of digression and personal starts and stops at the expense of thrilling plot. But it is smartly and vividly observed, and very funny, and in fact it is this kind of extraneous content that is the secret to defeating some of the most hateful things in the world without becoming hateful yourself.

Selin, the idiot of the title, is a bright, confused Harvard first-year who registers her impressions in a continuous first-person narrative. "Idiot," of course, as in Dostoevsky's novel, really (and ironically) means "innocent," which more or less probably describes Selin. As other reviewers have noted, not a lot happens. Selin falls for an elusive young Hungarian mathematician; she goes to classes in language and philosophy (and her snarky comments on them form one of the pleasures of the book); when summer comes she follows Ivan to Hungary as a volunteer English teacher in Hungarian village schools, but he slopes off to Thailand and she comes home, sadder and perhaps a bit wiser. As a retired English teacher with an interest in language and linguistics, I enjoyed Selin's perspective on college life, with its cast of eccentric characters met in and out of the classroom. The humor (and it's a pretty funny book) comes from Selin's take on roommates, friends, family, teachers, and a varied cast of rural Hungarians met during her summer adventure. Whether the book would be equally appealing to readers coming from different backgrounds is a question: it is witty, funny without being hilarious, uneven, maybe too self-indulgent (like its 19-year-old protagonist), and in my opinion longer than it needs to be. Inhabiting Selin's psyche is a bit like living with a teenager - it has its charms, but you find yourself wishing she'd grow up.

I had mixed feelings about Elif Batuman’s coming of age novel, The Idiot. At first, I loathed it. I found the laundry list of “What I did at Yale” trite, boring, and mundane. I fell into two competing emotional states while trudging through the first half of this book. Just as I was about to throw in the metaphorical hat, Batuman would say something profound about friendship and life. Each time this happened, it stopped me in my tracks and I’d reread the passage over and over just to make sure I hadn’t imagined the unanticipated philosophical weight. Then at page 161, the story changed for me. Selin who has a crush on Ivan from Russian class, spend an awkward day together. As they watch the sunrise from Ivan’s room, Selin notices Ivan’s lamp. It’s the same lamp she has, and she likes the thought of them both sitting under a similar light. She mentions the identical room décor and Ivan says how he doesn’t like the lamp because it’s mass-produced. It was at this moment I identified with Selin and her relationship with Ivan. She liked the lamp and thought it both functional and pleasing to the eye. How it had been produced and its lack of uniqueness didn’t both her, after all, it’s just a lamp. That scene struck gold with me, and after that I made myself stop being such a snob about Batuman’s list of college activities and classes, and I settled into the characters. Ivan is a senior who has a girlfriend but likes the attention he garners from Selin. They begin an email correspondence that is one of the most convoluted conversations in the English language. Selin chalks this up to Ivan being from Hungary and cultural differences. Svetlana, another student from Russian, strikes up a friendship of opposites with Selin. Herein lies the strength of their bond. Selin, who aspires to be a writer has trouble expressing herself while Svetlana has no trouble at all, and extends her ease with feelings to analyzing other’s emotional shortcomings. Peter, the Ph.D. student who runs a study abroad program is overanalytical and direct. Don’t use an idiom in a creative way in Pete’s presence, he’ll call you on the saying’s literal meaning and how you got it wrong. The second half of The Idiot is a much different story from the first. The novel transitions from short passages of activities and classroom interaction to become more of a narrative. Selin, smitten with Ivan, but unsure how to proceed, goes to Hungary for the summer to teach English through a program run by Peter. Here she hopes to spend time with Ivan who will be home for the summer before going off to graduates school in California. Selin stumbles gracefully through unforgettable Hungarian personalities and realizes she’d gone to Hungary to be near Ivan, who is not around. She begins to wonder about her folly when she realizes it’s not about Ivan, it’s about her, and she tries to enjoy herself. I enjoyed the second half, and I looked forward to reading it. I also realized how necessary the first half is to the second. While Selin’s time in Hungary is the better part of the novel, it isn’t possible without the trudging through the Yale Daily Times. Part II can’t stand alone. We need the character development, the friendships, and the nonsensical email conversations. Without these aspects, the story falls apart. As one who attended college at the birth of the internet, I appreciate the historical significance of The Idiot. I hadn’t thought about my college years regarding history, which makes me feel a little old. That aside, I sort of enjoyed The Idiot, or at least I think I did. The second half buffered the first which bored and irritated me, but I think that may have been the point. I’m not sure if I can recommend this novel. I think doing so might burn a bridge or two.

faux livre reçu faites attention

all good

Una historia lenta en un principio pero es una joya narrativa :)

This book really resonated with me, perfectly capturing the awkwardness and confusion of first love and youth. I loved this book.

Apesar do livro ser simples chegou em perfeito estado e a diagramação é boa.