The old adage instructs that we must never judge a book by its cover. Instead, we must judge it by the contents of its pages.
If we judge Elif Batuman’s 2017 bildungsroman, “The Idiot,” by its cover, what is there to deduce? For one thing, it was a Pulitzer Prize Finalist. Other than that impressive fact, the cover is simple. A pale pink background offset with the image of a seemingly innocuous gray rock.
That’s it. Just a rock.
While there are many possible interpretations of this enigmatic cover, it represents the overarching theme of “The Idiot” — finding meaning in what appears to be meaningless. A rock is never really just a rock. At least, according to the novel’s protagonist, Selin.
The title is a reference to Fyodor Dostoevsky’s 19th century novel of the same name. A semi-biographical account of Batuman’s own college experience, the book follows Selin, a Turkish-American first-generation student, as she navigates her freshman year at Harvard in 1995.
I’m not sure if this is a testament to Batuman’s writing or just an admission that I should probably read more, but I don’t think I’ve ever read a novel like “The Idiot.” It’s almost like a stream-of-consciousness — with no chapter breaks and many short vignettes sprinkled throughout longer sections.
What makes “The Idiot” compulsively readable is Selin’s unique narration. The reader is able to experience every minute detail, every banality of daily life, through her eyes. Selin’s voice is dry, humorous and insightful. Many of her observations about the absurdity of existence left me laughing out loud and eagerly hunting through my bag for a pen to underline the funniest ones.
In some ways, nothing happens in “The Idiot.” But in other ways, everything happens.
Selin is also — more often than not — a chronic overthinker and hopelessly naïve about sex, relationships and college life. Her tendency to over-complicate simple social interactions left me wanting to strangle her more than once. At one moment, she can be painfully self-aware, and at the next moment, she’s making some of the most stupid decisions I’ve ever seen put to the page.
Although she enters Harvard College as a linguistics major, Selin has aspirations of becoming a writer and spends much of her free time devouring books until the early hours or the morning or compulsively scribbling in her notebook.
I think anyone who’s ever considered writing as a possible career path can identify with Selin’s contradictory identity of over-confidence and constant embarrassment.
As Selin is preoccupied with the nature of language and meaning, much of the novel revolves around communication and mis-communication. This also extends to email — a method of interaction that was still magical and mysterious in 1995.
During her first semester, Selin also begins a strange relationship with Ivan, a Hungarian senior math major in her Russian class. The two stay up late exchanging cryptic emails, although he is already dating an older graduate student.
In the second half of the novel, Selin follows Ivan to Hungary, where she teaches English in a rural village.
At 423 pages, many of which are dense descriptions of Russian literature or linguistic theory, “The Idiot” is not exactly what I’d think of as a quick read or a page-turner. Normally, I’d turn to a classic Stephen King thriller if that’s what I was looking for.
However, once I started “The Idiot,” I could not stop reading. Batuman’s writing had an almost addictive quality that left me wanting more.
I’m sure some readers will find “The Idiot” overly pretentious or tediously slow. It’s certainly not a book for those interested in fast-paced storylines or intricate plot twists, but if you enjoy a little pretension with your morning coffee, it will be a thoroughly enjoyable experience.
Almost two weeks after finishing the novel, I can confidently say that it has not left my mind since I read the last sentence.
BU students are the ultimate audience for reading this novel, as we’re able to experience similar events to Selin in real time. So, if you’re intrigued by dry humor, intellectual wit and finding the exceptional in the mundane, head to a local bookstore and pick up a copy.
