I read this at the behest of the voracious reader, Jen von G, of Misfit Reader infamy. I was curious about the author but not sure what to expect. The novel was short (just under 200 pages) with short chapters and short sentences, often fragments. The chapters move around in time and location, with a young man who seems always on the go. On one Greek island he meets a woman who shows up repeatedly, both in her letters and in his bed. She seems to have uncanny insight to the thoughts he is thinking rather than what he is saying, but I'm not sure he'd keep me involved with him. Certainly not after being thrown on the train tracks.
A few confusing points that kept it at three stars for me, and I'm wondering if they are only problems due to translation issues. First of all, the chapters alternate with chapters named after photographs... should the novel have been called The Seventh Photograph? What does the elephant MEAN and what are the tiny tails? SO many tiny tails. Do they bring us together or does he obsess over them because he feels he has one? What? What is that? Ha. And with the main guy, is he crazy? Psychopath? Was the train just a metaphor like the elephant? Why doesn't she ever get mad?
Some of the writing was worth noting, and Jen claims his other novels are even better, so I would read another at some point.
Examples:
"He keeps it all inside....There are people who are pregnant in their soul."
"She often catches herself consciously removing him from his pedestal, including him as just one more piece in the mosaic of her experiences, one more piece of material to be processed; imagining him as a piece of time. Though of empty time. Those who think they've been through everything don't understand the meaning of empty time. Time again. And its emptiness. The deepest, continuous emptiness. Black, white and nothing. Emptiness is not nothing. Emptiness has components, it's made up of parts. Just as experience is a collection of minor events, so too emptiness is a collection of tiny refusals, of tiny buts and nos, which come and weave themselves as threads of negation to fashion the 'not now,' the elsewhere"
"Just like language, so the body too is unable to say everything, it can't speak the whole truth, it can't speak literally."