A review by amalgamemnon
The Idiot by Elif Batuman
4.0
Batuman's writing is great - modern, self-aware but without being tiresome or cocky. There are lots of witty little asides, passages or vignettes that lead you to pause and think. Initially it feels plot-less - one of those books that is designed for you to simply sit back and enjoy the writing. But you can't sustain an entire novel on this, and especially not one that runs for over 400 pages.
So Batuman introduces the love-interest, Ivan, with whom Selin engages in an email exchange which quickly turns into a full-blown obsession. Selin is in her first year of university - the beauty of the American system meaning she can dabble in numerous subjects and allow the author to cock an eyebrow at a range of disciplines - and seemingly a little lost. The book's title always looms large in my mind because Selin conventionally is not an idiot (she is at Harvard, for god's sake) - it seems to instead speak to the idiocy of youth and finding one's self out. But I'm not sure Selin is an archetypal youth - her thoughts have a mix of world-weariness and befuddlement, her will being overcome at times by an exhausted acceptance that this is the way things are, that she will never fit in. She constantly muses on the rules of the world, probing little theorising questions but without trying too hard.
I'm not sure I get the love interest line - perhaps because Ivan is fairly difficult to like. He's either very manipulative or extremely ignorant, both meaning a complete abnegation of responsibility. It's better framed as an obsession, I think, for that's what it is until the last third of the book. Ivan and Selin exchange emails at first, not exactly a conversation but a collection of musings that are vaguely directed at each other. Batuman leans heavily on Selin's supposed interest in language here as a clue for why she gets seduced by Ivan - by Ivan's words, first and foremost. But this feels a little forced - it feels like we're told about Selin's overwhelming interest in theories of language and its rules without really seeing much thought from her. Similar to this is her desire to be an author, which only extends as far as writing one short story and the occasional reference to her scribbling in a notebook. There's a point towards the end where Selin seems to acknowledge this contradiction - "I still had the old idea of being a writer, but that was being, not doing" - but it's unsatisfying to think that the whole writerly ambition is just another cocked eyebrow.
I think the relationship with Ivan is forced into being the core of the book, when what is more interesting is Selin's interactions with everyone else - her responses to people she thinks are more competent or better-placed to operate in the world than her. I can strongly identify with that feeling of playing by another community's rules, all the time - I suspect most people can. She has a wonderful relationship with Svetlana, her friend from university, and perhaps that forms as much of a strand as the Ivan stuff. Maybe you could compare the two and the function of language therein, if you were so inclined.
I'm probably being too critical of the book, which I mostly enjoyed. The ending drags out a bit, and the whole thing falls into a bit of a "Ivan - waiting for Ivan" kind of pattern. But the writing is so good, and not ostentatious - Batuman clearly delights in her writing and what she can show the reader, and I was mostly happy just to sit there and enjoy the performance.
So Batuman introduces the love-interest, Ivan, with whom Selin engages in an email exchange which quickly turns into a full-blown obsession. Selin is in her first year of university - the beauty of the American system meaning she can dabble in numerous subjects and allow the author to cock an eyebrow at a range of disciplines - and seemingly a little lost. The book's title always looms large in my mind because Selin conventionally is not an idiot (she is at Harvard, for god's sake) - it seems to instead speak to the idiocy of youth and finding one's self out. But I'm not sure Selin is an archetypal youth - her thoughts have a mix of world-weariness and befuddlement, her will being overcome at times by an exhausted acceptance that this is the way things are, that she will never fit in. She constantly muses on the rules of the world, probing little theorising questions but without trying too hard.
I'm not sure I get the love interest line - perhaps because Ivan is fairly difficult to like. He's either very manipulative or extremely ignorant, both meaning a complete abnegation of responsibility. It's better framed as an obsession, I think, for that's what it is until the last third of the book. Ivan and Selin exchange emails at first, not exactly a conversation but a collection of musings that are vaguely directed at each other. Batuman leans heavily on Selin's supposed interest in language here as a clue for why she gets seduced by Ivan - by Ivan's words, first and foremost. But this feels a little forced - it feels like we're told about Selin's overwhelming interest in theories of language and its rules without really seeing much thought from her. Similar to this is her desire to be an author, which only extends as far as writing one short story and the occasional reference to her scribbling in a notebook. There's a point towards the end where Selin seems to acknowledge this contradiction - "I still had the old idea of being a writer, but that was being, not doing" - but it's unsatisfying to think that the whole writerly ambition is just another cocked eyebrow.
I think the relationship with Ivan is forced into being the core of the book, when what is more interesting is Selin's interactions with everyone else - her responses to people she thinks are more competent or better-placed to operate in the world than her. I can strongly identify with that feeling of playing by another community's rules, all the time - I suspect most people can. She has a wonderful relationship with Svetlana, her friend from university, and perhaps that forms as much of a strand as the Ivan stuff. Maybe you could compare the two and the function of language therein, if you were so inclined.
I'm probably being too critical of the book, which I mostly enjoyed. The ending drags out a bit, and the whole thing falls into a bit of a "Ivan - waiting for Ivan" kind of pattern. But the writing is so good, and not ostentatious - Batuman clearly delights in her writing and what she can show the reader, and I was mostly happy just to sit there and enjoy the performance.