A reclusive poet named Ka journeys to the small border town of Kars to find out the truthmirroring a similar visit made by Pushkin in 1829. As it turns out, Ka is an even less faithful reporter than his Russian counterpart. While tensions ratchet upward toward a revolution, Ka drifts through town in a somnolent haze, dazzled by a heavy snowstorm. As the flakes drift down, muffling gunshots and cries for help, Ka wanders into tea rooms to jot down poems and moon about an impractical crush. Maintaining distance, obviously, is his forte. He witnesses an Islamic hit on a government minister, and the death of a sweet young boyand neither stop him from writing his poetry.
Pamuk has claimed that he is not a political writer, but he will have difficulty defending that position with Snow, which dramatizes many of the issues facing the Middle East today: the separation of church and state, poverty, modernization, and the influence of the West. The book's compelling side drama of a writer struggling to remain apolitical is nearly occluded in the blizzard of themes. In time, it would be nice to have the pleasure of reading Snow not simply as the political novel it certainly is, but as a work of art.
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