Due to a sudden, unexpected passing in the family a few years ago and another more recently and my subsequent (mental) health issues stemming from that, I was unable to download this book in time to review it before it was archived as I did not visit this site for several years after the bereavements. This meant I didn't read or venture onto netgalley for years as not only did it remind me of that person as they shared my passion for reading, but I also struggled to maintain interest in anything due to overwhelming depression. I was therefore unable to download this title in time and so I couldn't give a review as it wasn't successfully acquired before it was archived. The second issue that has happened with some of my other books is that I had them downloaded to one particular device and said device is now defunct, so I have no access to those books anymore, sadly.

This means I can't leave an accurate reflection of my feelings towards the book as I am unable to read it now and so I am leaving a message of explanation instead. I am now back to reading and reviewing full time as once considerable time had passed I have found that books have been helping me significantly in terms of my mindset and mental health - this was after having no interest in anything for quite a number of years after the passings. Anything requested and approved will be read and a review written and posted to Amazon (where I am a Hall of Famer & Top Reviewer), Goodreads (where I have several thousand friends and the same amount who follow my reviews) and Waterstones (or Barnes & Noble if the publisher is American based). Thank you for the opportunity and apologies for the inconvenience.

This was an unsettling and stifling read, as we follow our protagonist down a road of mental degradation, ensued by worsening paranoia. A very interesting premise, and sometimes it was very hard to read!

Big yes to this. So so weird but in a good way. And very creepy and uncanny in the way it can be mapped onto real-life.

Existential crisis…

Our unnamed narrator, a writer of academic literary criticism, is going through a mid-life crisis. He is seemingly happily married and with a little child, but he’s finding it hard to write. So when he is offered a residency at the Deuter Institute in Berlin, he jumps at the chance to spend a few months working in luxurious surroundings, even though his wife is not thrilled at him leaving her to cope alone. But when he gets to the Institute, he discovers that they have odd and strict rules on how their visitors should work and associate, and he finds himself even less able to write than before. And so begins his existential crisis, tied in with the work he is, or isn’t, doing on the ‘lyric I’ as exemplified in the work of Heinrich von Kleist, a poet of the German Romantic school…

My reviews are entirely subjective and are rarely meant to be a quality judgement. The quality of this book may be wonderful if you happen to know anything, and care, about the philosophies underpinning German Romanticism. I don’t, and I don’t. As a result, I found some of this incomprehensible, and most of it tedious.

Kunzru uses his narrator’s philosophical musings and descent into madness to consider the current rise of the alt-right and to make comparisons to the totalitarian regimes of both left and right in the mid-twentieth century. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that this would have been more interesting if the book had come out in the pre-Trump era, as a warning – not unlike Patrick Flanery’s Fallen Land, which met with harrumphs of disbelief from some quarters on its publication in 2013, particularly from Americans who then believed their democracy and fundamental freedoms were so strong they could not be overturned. The timing of this one, as the Trump era ends, or at least pauses, felt to me as if it had rather missed the bus. Most of us have been angsting for years over the question of whether America would pull back from the brink of fascism before it was too late, and so the questions raised in the book felt somewhat stale, as if looking ahead to a future that is already receding into the past (hopefully).

So, unfortunately, the combination of lots of self-indulgent lit-crit which didn’t interest me, combined with political questions which I feel have been done and done again in recent years, meant that I didn’t enjoy this one nearly as much as I have enjoyed Kunzru’s previous books. I hesitate to use the word pretentious, because perhaps it only feels pretentious to me because it’s so heavily immersed in a subject about which I am profoundly (and yet happily) ignorant. I’m sure people who are interested in German Romantic poetry and philosophy will have a different reaction. My opinion is, therefore, even more subjective than usual – the book didn’t work for me, but may work for you. 2½ stars for me, so rounded up.

It's weird to revel in a read that causes you stress but here we are. Claustrophic and unsettling, but a fantastic one, Red Pill is a compulsive book.

A writer faces his mid-life crisis when he thinks about what he has become and what he has achieved, thus a new form of writer's block. He has the timely opportunity to go on retreat, as it were, when he receives a fellowship with other creative sorts to visit Wannsee in Berlin. It is not what he expects and a whole trail of questioning and paranoia follows.

The first problem is that he is expected to write in an open space with the rest of the group, without speaking, where all of his activity is on show. The dining arrangements are also set with the same group. This makes him uncomfortable, as if he is being watched all the time, thus analysed. He is unable to work like this but is told that it is imperative for the programme he is on. No writing takes place as is commented on by the other guests.

The story is told in the first person whose name is never revealed. His thoughts are expressed from his own perspective and is shown in a non-linear and at times almost stream-conscious. He considers privacy and oppression both from his personal experience in the centre and from the wider perspective of history, particularly Germany's. The centre has connections to the Nazi concept of the Final Solution, which, for obvious reasons, doesn't sit well. He also frequently visits the gave of a famous philosopher from the Enlightenment movement, which leads him to the theories he held.

While the ideas of oppression are interesting and the mental journey into deep paranoia are expressed well, there are times when the story is disjointed and the purpose is not clear. For example, there is a very (overly) long section where the cleaner tells her life story. A few paragraphs would suffice and when her tale is done, she is not mentioned again. Likewise, he becomes obsessed with an American police series and eventually meets the producer and makes parallels with his own oppressive concerns, but the length and detail of each episode is quite tedious. This is an interesting book and perhaps the sometimes unfocused sections are part of the depiction of the narrator's mental health. Maybe this is just the way it's supposed to be.

I honestly don't know what to think about this book. In parts, I liked the story, but in other parts, I felt I was reading an entirely different book. I couldn't like the narrator, and so I realized that I don't care what happens to him toward the end. And I definitely didn't want to listen to him talking about "the self". But, I like the author's style, and I think I'll read his other books.

A bitter pill you can yet cannot swallow—utter chaos from an unnamed narrator's existential crisis that blows into paranoia around not just oneself but also the understandable fear of inequalities, suffering, and a resurgence of the far-right, to the intoxicating complex narrative that points to poetic romanticism of the nineteenth century, harsh history, and political philosophy, thereby opening up doors to discussions on seemingly linear yet realistically convoluted and intricate themes.

The strained apprehension of watching someone unfurl into a disturbed state and witnessing the questionable realisations of simulation, conspiracies, and existence slowly trickle down each page, makes this novel nothing less than intelligent and nothing more than an expedient read.

Loved the book. Thank you for the pre-release. I reviewed the book on the goodreads site. I recommended the book to be one that should be in stock for Northumberland Libraries although unfortunately I do not have any control over Library budget spend. I have noticed that there are currently 2 copies in stock throughout the county.

I did like this overall but it just missed something for me. The plot was enough but it just felt that something in the story was lacking and not developed enough. The characters were done enough but they needed to be pushed a bit more and fleshed out for me.

A strangely stressful read, there is something claustrophobic in the writing of it. As the narrator descends into a state of paranoid anxiety, the reader is dragged along for the ride. The characters are well imagined and bold.

Umm I am not sure what to make of this. I am not sure how to rate it either..maybe a 3.5*?!

If I were to say something very concise about it, I would go with: I loved the first part, I was intrigued by the middle and I was bored/disappointed by the ending. I cannot say I understood the purpose of this book or what was about. For me it was almost like a collection of 3 short stories featuring the same character. Not much continuity between them in the sens of creating a narrative line that will make sense to the reader. Therefore I've been forced to take each part at face value(kind of) and to rate/evaluate it by how much I've enjoyed it.
I really loved the first part: the sarcasm was exquisite. I may be wrong, but to me it read as a highly ironic portrait of the academician making a living from coming up with the most pompous piece of writing possible. Kunzru mocks the need for privacy and authors' "need" to seclude themselves in order to write. The dinners are particularly amusing, with the academicians each fighting for the Bad Writing Award - an award for the most pompous yet incomprehensible discourse.
The middle/second part was truly intriguing. From Monika's story to the scenes with Anton, to his descent into paranoia, I've been totally absorbed into the story. It really felt as if I've fallen down a rabbit hole and I was fascinated, wanting more and more and more.
And after that apex, and all that intensity the balloon deflated without revealing anything. Banal ...Or I guess there's another way of looking at it: there is no meaning. Human race is in a race for meaning but taking the red pill will force you to face the truth: there is no meaning, there is no purpose, we are not here because of a superior being's greater plan ...

In Hari Kunzru's much anticipated follow-up to White Tears we follow a writer who travels to Berlin to take part in a fellowship which isn't quite what he expected: he's expected to write in a big room with the other participants, where everyone can see exactly what (or how little) he's doing. Our unnamed protagonist rebels, and the novel spirals out in various directions from here - to include the Nazis, 9/11 and police dramas, among other themes.

While I appreciate the wider themes and message Kunzru is portraying through this novel - the blurb on Goodreads describes this as "searching for order in a world that frames madness as truth" - I didn't always get along with the way he decides to convey them. The unnamed narrator is overly self-involved bordering on navel-gazing at times, which, yes, might have been the point... but it makes for frustrating reading. The different sections didn't really tie together, and left me scratching my head as to how they related to one another. The middle section where the narrator meets the writer of the cop show he becomes obsessed with was drawn out and the following section was genuinely bizarre.

I'm sure many readers will love this: Red Pill is a puzzle of a novel, capturing the zeitgeist of this weird and sketchy time we're living through and the unsettling feeling it provokes in many of us. I guess it hit a bit too close to home for it to make for a satisfying read for me.

Strong start but then found this very hard going and really struggled to get engaged. Brimming with clever ideas but possible not best served as a novel

I haven't read any of this author's books before, or a book quite like this one! Similar to the main protagonist, I felt I lost the plot part way through but was interested to reach the conclusion. Not being an American the final part, although familiar, was perhaps a little less meaningful to me, but overall a diverting and different read.
Thank you to netgalley and Simon and Schuster for an advance copy of this book

I read this book without reading reviews as I am trying to read something completely out of my usual genre choices once a month. I gave up at 63% because my head hurt... I’m not going to be negative about this book because I can appreciate where it was going and how original the writing style is. I just didn’t enjoy it one bit. I struggled to stay engaged and found the protagonist extremely unlikeable (in an I-don’t-care-what-happens-to-you way rather than anything else). I really wanted to love this book as I have often fallen in love with novels that are totally out of my comfort zone (Away With The Penguins, Set My Heart To Five, Body Tourists) but this one just gave me brain ache. I can’t imagine I’ll read anything from this author again.

Since reading other reviews, I can agree that although I didn’t enjoy this novel, that’s more about me than it is about the actual book.

Thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for the arc.

Hari Kunzru is one of those names I’ve repeatedly come across when browsing bookshelves over the years but I’ve never read one of his books before. So when I saw Red Pill, which sounded topical and potentially interesting in a transgressive/satirical way, I decided to finally find out if this was a writer for me. And - nope!

The premise of Red Pill is a middle-aged academic accepts an invitation to go to an all-expenses-paid three-month artistic retreat in Berlin in an attempt to sort out his writer’s block. What the book is about is another thing entirely and I’m not convinced Kunzru even knows! The novel is such a mess of seemingly-disconnected tangents.

[Shortly after arriving, the narrator becomes fixated on Heinrich von Kleist (the chap on the cover with the Superman laser eyes), an obscure German Romantic poet who committed suicide, with his friend’s wife, on the banks of the Wannsee, near to the retreat a couple centuries ago. That leads into a tangent about one of the retreat’s cleaners and her youth as a punk rocker in East Germany and subsequent experience with the Stasi.

Then our narrator becomes obsessed with a fictional gritty crime show called Blue Lives and conveniently happens across the show’s creator at a random party he goes to. This creator then, incongruously, decides to become the narrator’s cartoonishly evil nemesis, leading to the narrator’s full mental breakdown. The book ends anticlimactically and underwhelmingly with the conclusion of the 2016 election.

Oh… k?

I really don’t know what to make of it all. I guess the premise and parts of the first act were mildly compelling. I enjoyed finding out about Kleist and I thought Kunzru would explore the tantalising mystery of why the institute was spying on its guests, but he doesn’t. Other than that, I was mostly bored with what I was reading. The maid’s Stasi past was dull, the way all these divergent narratives came together was sloppy and contrived, and the entire characterisation of Anton, the Blue Lives creator, was bafflingly silly from start to finish. Why would this total stranger decide to go out of their way to destroy another total stranger’s life on a whim for no reason other than a passing disagreement over politics? It made no sense. Anton leads a busy life - who is this unknown academic to him??

I mean, really, what was the point - right wing = wrong wing, or something equally trite? Or the ultra-sensitive narrator was simply plain nuts and got pushed over the edge by awful aspects of our modern world? That’s unimpressive. Ironically, and probably intentionally, the criticism the narrator levels at Anton about his view of the world being full of nihilism and pessimism is reflected in this novel/the narrator’s life - which means the Forces of Darkness won in the end or something gloomy…? (hide spoiler)]

No idea what Hari Kunzru was driving at in this very muddled novel but whatever it was wasn’t entertaining or thoughtful. If this is what the red pill does, take the blue pill instead and don’t head down this dead-end path!

I started this with good intentions and just about managed to keep my head above water for the first just over half. I enjoyed (if that's the right word) the descriptions of the institute and the Lake - I have been to the Villa myself and recall the setting quite well. And I was getting on well with the main character despite his foibles. But then it all got a bit too much for me with the German literature and History that I couldn't quite get to grips with and got a bit bogged down in.
I have no doubt that this is a great book for the right audience but I feel that sadly, it wasn't the book for me and I had to call it a day and DNF at about 60%.
My thanks go to the Publisher for the chance to read this book.

I really wasn't sure what to expect going into this - I didn't look at the page to check the reviews, so I went in just with the expectation set by the blurb.
Unfortunately, the expectation and bar are far too high.

This is a story about a self-indulgent writer who claims writer's block/stagnation to justify leaving his family, taking an assignment in Berlin.
It's also a bit hard to keep track of the sequences - some of the surreal bits really don't make all that much sense, even contextually against the backdrop of the books that it seems to be aiming for, and the surrealism and postmodernism that it seems to be aiming for.

The one thing I could relate to, as mentioned by another reviewer is this:
"Alone, we are food for the wolves. That's how they want us. Isolated. Prey. So we must find each other. We must remember that we do not exist alone."
But as he's off alone, it feels like a completely fake and inserted idea, and though it resonated so hard with me, it felt like the author was basically adding that and it wasn't part of the character development at all. And that made me really uncomfortable and knocked me right out of the mindset of trying to understand the protagonist.
I really had to fight to finish this book. Gotta be honest though, I was skimming the last ten percent. A thoroughly unlikeable narrator, and maybe not my best introduction to the author.

#BOOKREVIEW
The narrator of the book is struggling to come up with new work. He feels stuck, frustrated, and it's affecting his marriage. He receives a stipend in Berlin and believes this is precisely the kind of escape he needs to get his work back on track. But once he's in Germany, he procrastinates by taking long walks and binge-watching a violent copy show, Blue Lives. In a chance encounter at a party, he meets the creator of the show, Anton. The narrator starts believing that Anton is "red-pilling" his viewers by slowly normalizing and brainwashing them towards an alt-right worldview. The more time the narrator spends in Berlin, the more he wonders if he is losing his mind.


My top three thoughts on 'Red Pill':
1. This is one of those books that is written so well but not meant for everybody. The story swings between realism and a dream-like sequence. It's so out there and weird but also highly intelligent and un-put-down-able. Kunzru also seems to have added many meta layers, which I admit I mostly missed when I read it. Even then, the protagonist's development and journey are brilliant, which makes this such a different and interesting read.
2. I immensely enjoyed all the passages that discuss the protagonist's struggle with freedom and space.
"Alone, we are food for the wolves. That's how they want us. Isolated. Prey. So we must find each other. We must remember that we do not exist alone."
It also felt strangely relatable because of the way the world is currently unfolding. Many sections in the book (especially the ones related to subjectivity and politics) made me think and reflect. Is it better to be blissfully unaware and ignorant, or is it better to live through ugly realities?
3. The book relies heavily on German philosophies, and I did feel a little lost along the way. I would have wanted a bit more attention to those sections to drive home the point for someone unversed as me. This book can still be appreciated, and it isn't one that's meant to be understood entirely -- that too in the first attempt.