A Sense of Identity

Strongly recommended: Orhan Pamuk's The Black Book. I'm taking it slowly, as befits a Proustian (in the best sense) novel, and am now just over halfway, looking forward to the delights and, I'm guessing, surprises to come. It's something like, yet nothing like, Snow and I Am Red. But a word of warning. For those like Lear who but slenderly know themselves, and anyone going through an identity crisis, this is one (possibly) to avoid. I'm pretty much convinced by now that whatever 'I' I am is little more than a convenient fiction. Mind you for those of us who are not terribly impressed with ourselves this comes as a bit of a release - an idea that Pamuk, of course, does a good deal of justice to.

For insomniacs everywhere the chapter Can't You Sleep?, at the mid-point of the novel, will make particularly resonant reading.