Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

Actual rating: 1.5 (rounded down) I... don’t know what to say. I didn’t think this would ever happen. I am pained. This is, without doubt, one of the most disappointing literary moments of my life. Where do I begin? Aciman retconned a lot of the bulk story from Call Me By Your Name. Some events/relationships/characterizations were changed for the better, and others for the worse. The fan service is there, but it’s so inconsequential; too little, too late. First and foremost, let me tell you from the start how many pages are devoted to Elio x Oliver: 11 !!!! That’s right, less than a dozen pages of Elio and Oliver together. 11 out of 260. This, my friends, is a crying shame! And to you, André Aciman... it is unforgivable. Now, the book is chopped up into four parts. Let’s begin with the first section, Samuel Pearlman (Elio’s 50’s-60ish years old father): his story, which makes up more than a quarter of the book, was pointless— a narrative flop. I mean, the whole ‘older man and the younger woman’ midlife crisis trope has been done to death! I didn’t find the romance endearing, believable, or necessary. “Definitely an older man’s fantasy” Mr. Pearlman thinks at one point. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. There were many moments in which you could tell Mr. Aciman was outright trying to convince the reader that this woman was Samuel’s soulmate. It seemed as though the author was trying to push this new relationship down our throats until we either accepted it or choked to death. In other words: forced. The idea that these two would meet so randomly, and in that same day ***less than twelves hours*** become so enamored with one another, to the point of making love, having conversations of moving in together, getting matching tattoos, and having children... I find it highly IMPLAUSIBLE! In truth, Samuel and Miranda’s whirlwind “romance” sounded like severe mania to me, and it made ME feel manic! I can’t describe it, but I know what it’s like. At one point, Samuel reflects on a past love-lost, wherein he and another woman were both in relationships, but got together anyways. André Aciman did much the same thing in his Enigma Variations, too— Making cheating on your significant other an almost inconsequential/innocent act. Frankly, I find it contemptible. If you’re that nonchalant and nonplussed about infidelity, then you’re someone I don’t want to know. So, this put me off Elio’s father instantly in this book, whereas in Call Me By Your Name I had been such a huge fan. Now, don’t get me wrong; I’m not sure I always agree wholeheartedly with monogamy— polyamory and open relationships are interesting, and I won’t judge or shame... as long as it’s all out in the open. I value honesty and openness in my life, and I want the same from the characters I read. André Aciman just happens to populate his novels with sexually loose characters—everyone is sleeping with everyone or having affairs— as well as characters who are quite free with their feelings, and give in to love very quickly. Even so, after all this, the woman on the train (Miranda) sounded much more like MY soulmate than anything. One thing she said really hit close to home: “I can’t stand being by myself yet I can’t wait to be alone.” How she much prefers to talk to strangers and chat with everyone around her, rather than those closest to her... I mean, That is me to a T! Her views align with my views on relationships and “love”. But that doesn’t make the opening section with Samuel any less unbearable. I found them all a little bit too pretentious; everyone talking in paradoxical, overtly-intellectualized, and contradictory ways. At least, I don’t know of anyone spending entire days ruminating on the depths of love, relationships, and personal/deeply-earnest reflections on the mysteries of life. No one really speaks like this ALL THE TIME. The novel meanders along at an uncomfortably dull pace with Samuel & Miranda, until FINALLY ... 249 pages* in getting to what most (if not ALL) the readers of this sequel came for: Elio & Oliver. *Page 107. That’s when Elio first comes into the picture. Over 100 pages of a 260 page book until we get our first glimpse of him. Mr. Aciman, dear Sir, may I ask WHAT THE ****?!? And then it’s practically the same meaningless conversations as with Samuel and Miranda: Elio meets a much older man (25-30 years older!), and again we have to listen to the author hammer home more, “I’m half your age” blah blah blah “I’m too old for you” blah blah blah “You should be with someone your own age” blah blah blah. I can't seem to grasp the significance of including large age gaps between the romantic pairings in this book. Is this because of the criticisms to Elio and Oliver in the first book? Because that age gap was seven years, not 30!!! I hope I don’t sound ageist here— I think we have no control over who we fall in love with, age, race, religion, etc etc be darned! I simply find it... weird that we’re more than halfway through the book, and the only substantial takeaway I have is that Miranda and Elio don’t mind older men. That’s it. And maybe some various, muddled themes of regret and longing for the past. This is not the book I came for. This is not the story I’ve been waiting 10+ months for. The characterization of Elio as a 32-year-old man is strikingly unchanged from the 17-year-old we met in Call Me By Your Name, albeit more morose/resigned/withdrawn. If we weren’t told he was an adult, I don’t think I would have been able to tell the difference. I don’t know how to feel about this. Here’s the thing: There is a lot going on in this book. The themes that run through, I find, are ones of: remembrance and regret, missed chances, how time changes us, does love fade over time?, and the longing associated with love lost (and found). But that’s beside everything else we had to trudge through in this book, to arrive at what every reader I know who loved these characters had been waiting for: Elio and Oliver coming back together again. Let me just reiterate the fact that we receive almost NOTHING of import between the two. To everyone I’ve been championing this book to since its existence was announced last December: I am sorry. I am sorry for hoping for something extraordinary, and hyping it up to the point of being high, high, high off the ground in giddy anticipation, only to be dropped like a stone into a freefall of disappointment. This book is essentially 260 pages of being slapped in the face for wanting more to begin with. And I’m angry. And I’m upset. Fin.