Elif Batuman

A book that meanders. The writing is precise, which makes the lack of obvious message feel intentional if the reader doesn't mind wandering. Consistent focus lands only on different ways of communication and connection: language structure vs constructs of understanding, roommates vs friendships, epistolary (email) vs conversation. Can the way someone communicates change the way they see the world? Do relationships only thrive in one environment and not the next? Does the way one presents show more herself to the world determine what paths she is offered? We, as readers, expect books to give us some answers - a conclusion with a veritable message about the world - this book does not. Instead, I wonder if Batuman's point is simply to live and experience life. The main character, a writer, muses that perhaps writing "wasn't just to record something past, but to prolong the present... to stretch out time until the next thing happened." What's next isn't important; how we interpret and spend the present is key. show less

It's 1995, Selin is a freshman at Harvard and she's chosen an odd mix of classes for herself as she explores how languages work, interact with each other and influence how their speakers think. She has roommates, which is an adjustment, and she meets two people in a beginning Russian class; the enigmatic Hungarian math major, Ivan, and a charismatic Serbian girl named Svetlana. Svetlana forces Selin out into the world of Harvard as she lives her life more colorfully than the careful scholars show more around her. Selin and Ivan begin a charged email correspondence but Selin is unsure about where their relationship is going, or even if they have a relationship. In the second part of the novel, Selin travels, first to Paris with Svetlana, then to Hungary, where she has signed up to teach English in a rural village at the suggestion of Ivan, and then to visit family in Turkey.

This novel hit my reading sweet spot. I do love a well-told story about a person discovering themselves and the wider world when they go off to university. And Selin is an intelligent, curious person to follow as she explores both her new environment and her intellectual world. She is simultaneously cautious and prone to rushing headlong into new situations. She refuses to cede her agency, even when she has no idea what she should do. And the language stuff is fascinating. Selin's an observer and she notices how different languages approach the same object or concept, and how words travel across languages.

All of The Idiot was brilliant fun. There were some small bumps in the pacing, but the novel soared as Selin set off on her summer travels. She's a fish out of water, but an intelligent fish who is willing to see what life on land is like. Elif Batuman is a fierce, intelligent writer. I suspect that readers who don't have an interest in language might be less delighted than I was by this wonderful book. show less

What the hell was that? This book is brilliant. The writing is as witty as I’ve ever experienced—so subtle and so plain and rich simultaneously. The book is about first love, but more than that it’s about the absolutely mundane happenings of a brilliant and worldly Harvard student. It’s beyond boring and also insipid and densely philosophical. It’s a host of contradictions and I really have no idea what to think! Not sure I even liked it!

I've known people like Elif Batuman--brilliant people who can't reply to the question "How are you today?" without a.) quoting literature, and then b.) quoting some obscure but relevant work of critical theory (and then maybe c.) adding an interesting bit of historical trivia, just for fun). It can take awhile to realize that, for this kind of person, that is actually how they feel--they've answered your question, you just might have to work a little harder to translate it into an "I'm fine" show more or an "I've been better." The Possessed is a book by, about, and for this kind of person, and for those of us who enjoy following them down their twisty, sometimes obsessive, often wise and utterly delightful paths. (I also feel like Batuman wins bonus points for making me want to re-read Pushkin--I didn't think that could happen, but This Kind of Person is notoriously persuasive...) show less