I read this book a year ago and it’s still haunting me.
It isn’t a narrative story. It isn’t a book that you would read breathlessly. It isn’t a book that you would talk about with your friends, because it is a book that provokes you to think deeply and to remain you, just you, in your essence.
It’s about a very rich man who travels and collects stories, very strange stories. You would say they are crazy and disgusting. But it is a book based on contrasts. You move from one world to another according to the chapters. You would say you could travel in space while reading it.
It’s, actually, a collection of stories, each representing a characteristic of human being. Cowardice. Wisdom. Love. Loss. Everything. I haven’t ever read a book like this. Of course there are novels that embody a lot of human values, but this is not a novel. It’s a simple collection of stories, which even creates the impression that they have nothing in common, even if there exists a „main” character.
The titles of the chapters are very attractive. So is the chapter of the book, of course, Gog. It is surely a proper name. I really think it’s a paradox here, as the book’s title is the name of the „main” character and this book has, more or less, nothing to do with Gog. He’s just collecting the stories, the book is NOT about him, but about those who tell the stories. The author doesn’t analize Gog from different points of view, he doesn’t even properly describe him. I think this is the most interesting thing about Gog.
Here are some quotes:
„… religions are nothing but remnant of the old wild taboos, prohibition systems with varying ideological superstructure.”
„But people destroy themselves with iron and buy themselves with gold.”
I hope you will like it, so enjoy the reading and I’m waiting for your opinions!