This book is about the way literature has of transfixing you, and how you can get so wrapped up in a story that you infuse it with your own life. It is literature about literature. Daniel Sempere traces down the mystery of why books by one Julian Carax are disappearing, and in the process, gets drawn into an epic, sordid tale.
My response to this book fluctuated. There were many stretches where the endless narrative would fail to hold my interest, and I would get distracted every half-page. Then there were many moments where I was breathlessly caught in the drama and the pages flew by. I congratulated myself on identifying the antagonists well ahead of the reveal, but found myself quite surprised by the twists it took to get there.
Daniel, the main character, was a blank slate who made some shall-we-say poor choices in the name of youth. The people he surrounded himself with were endlessly fascinating, and I liked getting glimpses of their lives, and deaths, in order to better see the tapestry of their lives. I didn’t care much for Fermin, but I was quite attached to Daniel’s father. I was slightly bothered by the fact that the various narrators sometimes couldn’t have had access to the information they imparted. I was more bothered by the fact that the women in the novel were almost entirely defined by their relationships with men, and had few other characteristics. Daniel's mother didn't even have a name!
Ultimately, though it was long and taxing on my atrophied attention span, it was a worthwhile experience. It really made me care about connecting the dots of an ancient mystery in a foreign land. The book wraps you in wings of language, and concludes itself quite neatly. I doubt I will read the other books in the series, though.
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