Beautifully written, but proof positive that science fiction and fantasy aren't the only genres suffering badly from bloat. This book is extremely repetitive, and I can't help but feel it would have been more effective at half the length - partly because half the length would give us less time with the main character.

I can't really call this a romance. It's more of an obsession, as a spoilt young man self-indulges his way into emotional martyrdom while essentially wrecking the life of his love object in the process. For Fusan, sadly, is an object - the protagonist, who is a most unpleasant creature, is so much in love with himself and his own (self-inflicted) suffering that he spends approximately zero time considering what his constant hounding is actually doing to the poor girl he purports to adore. I'm left with the feeling that the author thinks I should somehow admire and/or pity this man for the depths of his love and heartbreak? I don't. What I felt for Kemal was an amazingly constant sense of contempt. I think you'll understand when I say I both kept reading in the hope that he'd off himself and was simultaneously certain that his burning desire to ostentatiously wallow in misery would prevent him from doing any such thing.

So why does this get three stars from me? As I said, it's beautifully written. At no point did I stop admiring, and being conscious of, the skill by which the words were put together. Even towards the end of the book, when I was honestly pretty sick of both character and story, I was still appreciating the language. That counts for a lot with me.