(Did Not Finish)
I loved My Name is Red, but The Museum of Innocence is not even close to the same level of goodness. Most other reviewers who, presumably, finished the book were kind when they wrote it was not Pamuk’s best work.
The same attention to detail of things which worked so well in MNIR gets boring in TMOI because the story doesn’t go anywhere. Kemal’s obsessive love is ruinous. And yet, all we are treated to is the litany of his obsessive pilfering of objects which he does creepy things with to relive the joy that moment brought him. When it got to an actual enumeration of the 4,213 cigarette butts he’d pilfered and catalogued for his museum, I’d had enough.
I don’t care what happens next.