There are books that aren't good, but because of their well written ending we end up liking them (Life of Pi for one). The Ruby in Her Navel isn't one of those books. The ending, while trying desperately to be profound - wasn't. The biggest chunk of the story was compressed and rushed at the end as a well written yet garbled mess, while the primary 2/3 of the book was littered with loooong descriptions of clothes, tedious thoughts of the hero and insipid conversations.
In the middle of the book I was plain bored. It droned on and on about some emotions and experiences I didn't care about in the slightest. And then I came to hate the hero.
I think it was author's intention for the reader to hate the hero, but no, I didn't hate him, I loathed him. I wished he would commit suicide and the book would end.
The hero didn't commit suicide, instead the author decided that after 300 pages of monotonous boredom he should stuff and squeeze in 70% of the story still untold.
Even though the author only recently passed away, his language is that
of the classics. After reading "modern" language for many years, it was
nice to read in an old language we all know very well, but never use.
Still, the book is crippled and the hero is unlovable. He's angry, infantile, educated, but very stupid, selfish and empty, pompous and naive. (SPOILER AHEAD) He didn't deserve the good fate he got in the end. He should have died in some ditch, unknown and unwanted. But the author took a poetic route, which was incongruent to the universe he'd created.
1,5 stars
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