I don't have a good record with Pamuk so far; though I can easily acknowledge his artistry as a writer, his books bore me. My Name Is Red definitely suffered from that: I can see how it's a great book, and how it addresses important issues of art (the chapters from the perspectives of things being painted were especially interesting, with the tree saying, "I don't want to be a tree. I want to be its meaning."), especially issues of art faced in the Ottoman empire, things like style--as one character says, "imperfection is the mother of style"--and the relationship between painting and religion--"painting is the art of seeking out Allah's memories and seeing the world as He sees the world."
Now, I'm as big on art and its issues as the next reader of literature, and I'm as big on plot lines like murders and mysteries as the next reader, but Pamuk doesn't click with me; I was still bored. Sorry, everyone. I guess I'm not as literary as I thought.
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