2.5 stars (not 3), because I don't feel generous today and because this book pisses me off on a personal level. Thank God I didn't spend any money on it! We have this really cool initiative in Vienna where they hand out a selected book every year (for free - 100,000 copies in a special extra-made cover edition are placed at random shop stations in Vienna) and I've never really made use of it in the past because frankly, I didn't even know about it. This year, I luckily found out by a friend and this year's book sounded SO GOOD that I really couldn't wait to get my grabby hands on them. Unfortunately though, it wasn't really good at all. Now I have a copy of a book at home that I really don't need or want to look at again, because in all honesty, it just makes me feel terrible. I don't know why, it wasn't that bad by any means; but it leaves this very unpleasant taste in your mouth and especially in your mind. I felt extremely gloomy yesterday evening, and philosophical in the worst way imaginable. Doubting the purpose of life, calling everything we do self-deception and talking about how we are meant/destined to be unhappy, that every feeling of happiness is just an illusion, "happy" activities being diversions distracting from the real terror and uselessness of life. Thinking, why don't we all just wake up??? All the time feeling the whole weight of the disillusioned world on my shoulders; and even feeling sorry for random trees that I spotted on the bus, pitying them because they're alone and surrounded by houses instead of other trees. How cruel, aren't trees herd plants after all? (I sound like a lunatic, but I was very serious in my feeling sorry) OH YES, I had such a nice evening! While surely the book isn't completely to blame for all those thoughts, it definitely contributed in a way and I just have to find out to what percentage exactly. This is not a happy book. It's not even a sad one. Because weirdly, sad books make you happy in this special melancholic way, and writing sad books takes actual skill and talent. Instead, this book is just bland and pretentious, and very full of itself in thinking that it's special while it's really not (or rather, the author thinking that). The plot being about this young woman who's basically selling her soul to random men that she meets (who all happen to be philosophical in their nature, WHAT A HAPPY COINCIDENCE), and goes to bed with almost every one of them because...who the fuck knows! There's this guy she describes as utterly disgusting and the ugliest man she's ever met, and he's not even nice or funny or appealing in any way whatsoever! His personality is exactly like his looks (I'd argue even worse), he's arrogant and creeps her out to a point where she feels uncomfortable and yet…YET! In the end she sleeps with him (voluntarily; she instigated it!). What the fuck. What is that supposed to tell me?! The yuckier the better? Just thinking about this book makes me feel sick. The author means this book to be some philosophical, life-changing and thought-provoking novel, and she packs all those "meaningful" ramblings into the last chapter, desperately wanting to say so much, but ultimately saying absolutely nothing. AT ALL. Maybe I'm just stupid but I didn't even understand half of the things this woman was talking about. Plus, this book is so clearly auto-biographical that it really stinks to hell that she can't just admit to it. Also, her life isn't all that exciting, and I don't need to read about it. I'm not a fan of an author pouring they life and thoughts in such an extreme manner into a novel and then not even acknowledging it. The last couple of pages were basically just used as an outlet for Connie Palmen to deliver her thoughts on EVERY TOPIC IMAGINABLE, some of which haven't even been addressed throughout the novel, but what the hell, right? She gives the impression that she thinks every thought coming from her mind is gold and needs to be shared with all of us, whether we want to read it (no) or not. Her humbleness is truly inspiring, and can be very well seen when the interviewer at the end of the book asked about the publishing of her novel: "I already knew it was a good book". Good for you, I guess, but it appears that I'm just not enlightened and "knowledgable" enough to see it (maybe I should sleep around more, since apparently that's the way to get wisdom!!!) Seriously though, why on earth does she think that anyone cares about a woman whoring around with weird old pseudo-philosophers? Who wants to read that kind of stuff?! What is this supposed to say to me? In order to gain true knowledge, just fuck creepy old guys and then you'll feel...what exactly? In the end the woman is in therapy (wanna bet she sleeps with the therapist as well), and yet I'm supposed to believe that all her oh-so-interesting thoughts stem from her experiences with those old dudes. Errr...Maybe I'm getting it completely wrong though. Maybe this book isn't meant to tell you anything, because I surely got nothing from it. Maybe this was the point of it! Haha how funny would that be. Unfortunately, the way it is written, it really feels like this book is aiming to be God's Word 2.0. The only things I liked were the protagonist's university stories (UNIVERSITY!!!) and many of the dialogues. But the book always got overly-pretentious really fast, and then it was back to the boredom of the plot's nothingness again. The personality-lacking main character (who is in search of a personality throughout the whole book, but hasn't found one right to the very end) really did not help this case at all. She used men to...I don't know, let them teach her something, but I'm not sure what exactly she got taught other than losing every inch of self-worth in the process. Given that she even had any from the start, it really doesn't feel like it. Instead of gaining a personality she just lost herself in every man she encountered, it all ultimately ending (cumulating) with her feeling extremely stalkerish over yet another weird old guy, one who doesn't even love her back and thinks it's kind of creepy that she's stopped eating in order to be "full of him" instead (at this point I didn't question anything anymore and just rolled with this shit). Ultimately, she looked for someone to fill the hole in her body (quite literally), to save her from her not knowing who she is, but in the end, she just had to save herself. Something she just couldn't accomplish or even had an inkling about! (how is that possible if you're so much into philosophy? To think that putting your life in other hands is the only option to get a life?) At least I got some really really good quotes out of it (I'm a bit sad I didn't mark all of them because there's no way I'm ever going to reread this to find the rest that I forgot); but since my book copy is in German (which I think is probably a truer translation to Dutch than the English one) I'll put them in the "appendix" down below so as not to annoy the non-German speaking folks of you, though I will try to translate the meaning into English. Plus, while I think all of those quotes are really interesting and cool, they're kind of tainted solely by the fact that they're part of the story. I say story, but I should say "story", because I can't really see one. You know, I'm still not over how terrible this book made me feel (and again, it's hard to explain why). It' sort of like when you eat too much unhealthy stuff, and you feel very full, but in a bad way, so full that ultimately you just feel empty again but with this uncomfortable sick feeling still persisting, persisting for a while unfortunately. That's what this book does to me. I'm sure not everyone would think it as bad; objectively, it wasn't! 2.5 stars is a rating I can perfectly justify! But I really hate authors that think they know it all, that think they are the brightest bulbs in the box and that we all need to read their every word and thought that comes to their mind, even if it's just about toilet paper. Who pretend like it's so easy to write a meaningful book because all you need to do is put as much pseudo-philosophic thoughts in it as possible; but ultimately, this forced style just makes it feel hollow and fake. What an irony, considering so much in this book is about authenticity and truth! Yes, maybe some people can get something out of it, more than I did at least. I wouldn't even be surprised because hey, maybe I really am too stupid to see the "greater meaning" after all. I'm sure if you think about the book long enough there's loads of layers that I missed! Ultimately, there must be a reason this novel was selected as free hand-out in order to get people back to reading again; I don't believe (or hope) that the city of Vienna wants to torture its population and make them sink into deep despair. But personally, I dislike this book so much that I really can't be bothered to put on my x-ray specs to find the hopefully-existent meaning behind it. I just want to be done with this review and never think about the book again.
Edit: I just remembered - You know what annoys me as well? When books are sloppy. When authors describe character's looks and can't remember them five pages later on. In the chapter about this Daniel dude, the protagonist's describes their first meeting as some dark-haired guy sitting next to her. Later, about 5 pages later to be exact, when she tells the reader about his looks in detail, he suddenly has dark-blonde hair. Now I know that many Dutch people are blond, but that doesn't make someone with dark-blonde hair "dark-haired". Editor??? Jesus Christ, is it so difficult to remember what your characters are supposed to look like? This guy was one of the main characters too!
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Quotes that I really like but that are wasted on this book:
"László sagte mir nicht, wie lieb, freundlich, sanft, fürsorglich, spontan, fröhlich, sensibel, intelligent und aufrichtig ich sei, Dinge, die ich mir nie anhören konnte, ohne das Gefühl zu haben, dass wieder einmal jemand hereingefallen war und ich mein wahres Wesen (von dem ich übrigens auch keine Ahnung hatte, aber das Schlimmste vermutete) nicht durchschaut hatte. László erkläre unumwunden, ich sei zugeknöpft, hochnäsig, eitel, aggressiv, obsessiv, melancholisch, pessimistisch, misstrauisch, destruktiv, größenwahnsinnig, distanziert, narzisstisch. (…) Ich glaubte ihm."
(I felt that on a personal level!!!) (it's about how when men tell her compliments on her character, she cannot believe them, because she thinks they've just fallen into a trap, that they haven't seen through her real character yet. But this guy tells her all the horrible adjectives that she is, and that she can believe)
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Hugo will wissen, warum ich Philosophie studiere. (…)
"Um leben zu lernen" (…)
"Kannst du das denn nicht?"
"Was?"
"Leben."
"Nein.", sage ich, "ich kann es nicht gut genug."
(translation of the gist of it: "I can't live. I can't live life well enough") (very me)
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"(…) und ich fing an, zu spüren, wie stark die Macht der Leere ist"
(also felt that) (translation: I started to feel the power of emptiness)
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"Letztlich ertrug er meine Liebe nicht. Wie alle. Sie untergrabe seinen Selbsthass, meinte er, und er liebe sich selbst nicht genug, um mich lieben zu können. Seit wann terrorisiert uns eigentlich diese idiotische, abgedroschene Phrase? Welcher rückständige Schwachkopf hat den Menschen eingebläut, sie müssten erst sich selbst lieben, bevor sie jemand anderen lieben könnten? Das ist das lächerlichste, dümmste, grausamste Gesetz aller Zeiten, und es regiert das zwanzigste Jahrhundert. Es ist kompletter Blödsinn. Wir müssen einen anderen Menschen lieben, und ein anderer Mensch muss uns lieben, das brauchen wir nicht auch noch selbst zu tun, das ist unmöglich. Wer liebt schon sich selbst, ohne von einem anderen Menschen geliebt zu werden? Niemand. Ja, eine Handvoll monomaner Verrückter vielleicht, die schon ein Dutzend Selbstsicherheitstrainings hinter sich haben."
(WORD! Especially the last sentence! It's about how stupid the saying is that you need to love yourself before you can love somebody else, and that only some lunatic who's very very into themselves through self-love-trainings or whatever can love themselves without being loved by another person first) (personally, I feel that you need to love yourself to accept the love of someone else though, otherwise you just keep thinking it's only a matter of time until they figure out the "real you" and leave)
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PS: Hey, maybe I do like the book after all! Maybe I have some sort of love-hate-relationship going on with it. Because the dialogue is brilliant. It's just the plot...that isn't so much. Even though the passage where she got depressed because she had just finished her final thesis and was about to embark on a new (still unplanned) chapter of life (that she wasn't ready for) was sadly relatable, that's exactly what happened to me as well. So let's say 3 stars and be done with it.