Narration

Narration operates in the novel as both a structural device and a thematic problem, and Korin’s compulsive monologue sits at its center. His speech has no stable audience, no reciprocal rhythm, and no expectation of comprehension. He talks to anyone placed in proximity to him, including people with whom he shares no common language. This includes the group of boys who attack him, the air stewardess, the interpreter, Maria, Gyuri, strangers in Switzerland, and finally the staff at the museum. The novel presents this torrent of speech sympathetically, not as something Korin should be criticized for. Korin speaks because he must and the narration frames the monologue as an involuntary mode of existence, an orientation toward the world shaped by an overwhelming compulsion to make sense of his experiences and of the manuscript and to externalize that sense through speech.

At the same time, the...