"Snow" by Orhan Pamuk

I normally leave the book reviews for my brother (although he never seems to review the books I read...how odd)

Anyway, if you're going to read a book of contemporary fiction this year, make it "Snow". If you're a list junkie (like myself), then you may recognize that Pamuk was the winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature last year. If you're a news junkie (like myself), then you will remember the Turkish government told him not to receive it (he did, much to their chagrin)

Aside from Pamuk's writing style, as well as the translators ability to keep the work exciting without drenching it with errors and addendums, I found Pamuk's ability to layer, draw out, confuse/mislead absolutely enchanting.

Impossible to simplify, the story changes courses, much as a card game that might change rules/motives would; at first it's the story of girls driven to suicide, then perhaps it is about political revolution, and maybe about an artist who rekindles his muse (as well as his love); but in the end, it is the History of a Poem. And after hurdling simultaneously through several days and many years, you are given a clean, illuminating realization.

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