Name: Either/Or
ISBN: 9780525557593

Elif Batuman

From the acclaimed and bestselling author of The Idiot, the continuation of beloved protagonist Selin’s quest for self-knowledge, as she travels abroad and tests the limits of her newfound adulthood Selin is the luckiest person in her family: the only one who was born in America and got to go to Harvard. Now it’s sophomore year, 1996, and Selin knows she has to make it count. The first order of business: to figure out the meaning of everything that happened over the summer. Why did Selin’s elusive crush, Ivan, find her that job in the Hungarian countryside? What was up with all those other people in the Hungarian countryside? Why is Ivan’s weird ex-girlfriend now trying to get in touch with Selin? On the plus side, it feels like the plot of an exciting novel. On the other hand, why do so many novels have crazy abandoned women in them? How does one live a life as interesting as a novel—a life worthy of becoming a novel—without becoming a crazy abandoned woman oneself? Guided by her literature syllabus and by her more worldly and confident peers, Selin reaches certain conclusions about the universal importance of parties, alcohol, and sex, and resolves to execute them in practice—no matter what the cost. Next on the list: international travel. Unfolding with the propulsive logic and intensity of youth, Either/Or is a landmark novel by one of our most brilliant writers. Hilarious, revelatory, and unforgettable, its gripping narrative will confront you with searching questions that persist long after the last page.

Either/Or

Connie Meade

I thought there was something wrong with the way the departments and majors were organized. Why were the different branches on literature categorized by geography and language, while sciences were categorized by the level of abstration, or by the size of the object of study? Why wasn't literature classified by word count? Why wasn't science classified by country? Why did religion have its own department, instead of going into philosophy or anthropology? What made something a religion and not a philosophy? Why was the history of non-industrial people in anthropology, and not in history? Why were the most important subjects addressed only indirectly? Why was there no department of love?

Now we already lived in different buildings, and soon we would live even farther away from each other, and she would be married, and I would never wait for her in her bedroom again. How brief and magical it was that we all lived so close to each other and went in and out of each other's rooms, and our most important job was to solve mysteries. The temporariness made it all the most important to do the right thing--to follow the right leads. 

My heart was pounding. There was a book about this?

Nobody ever explained what was admirable about having the kids, or why it was the default course of action for every single human being. If you ever asked why any particular person had had a kid, or what good a particular kid was, people treated it as a blasphemy--as if you were saying they should be dead. It was as if there was no way to ask what the plan had been, without implying that someone should be dead. 

One day, early in our friendship, Svetlana had spontaneously told me that she thought I was trying to live an aesthetic life, and that it was a major difference between us, because she was trying to live an ethical life. I wasn't sure why the two should be opposed, and worried for a moment that she thought that I thought that it was OK to cheat or steal. But she turned out to mean something else: that I took more risks than her and cared more than she did about "style," while she cared more about history and traditions. 

It seemed possible that one or both of these books might change my life. 

Was there a version of "The Seducer's Diary" where they were equal--where he wasn't tricking her into doing something she didn't want? Or was that what seduction was? 

I learned a lot from that (therapy), like how much it hurt to see how other people described you, and how things that you said about another person, especially your parents, seemed neutral when addressed to a third party, but lethal when you thought about your parents reading it. 

From everything I knew about Svetlana's therapist, he was just the kind of jocular Socratic advice-implier I didn't want to hear from. Svetlana had once told me, as if it was a funny story, about the time when he had asked her why she didn't have pierced ears, and she had explained that she didn't want to be punctured, considering it a violation of her bodily integrity. Her therapist started laughing, and then she laughed, too, because she realized she had been talking about her fear of sex. All I needed was some grown man guffawing at me about sex. 

Was an equal relationship possible, or did one person always like the other person more? Which of us, me or Svetlana, liked the other more? "I feel like it's different at different times," I said. Svetlana said she agreed. 

Could friendships reach a stable point and stay there, or were they always either growing or shrinking? Svetlana thought they grew and shrank. 

Was a style what you needed to make someone fall in love with you? 

The other subject we talked about was whether men were less affected by love than women--whether they suffered less from heartbreak. Even if suffering was, as Svetlana insisted, universally human, and thus also befell men, it seemed inarguable that men were better at compartmentalizing, and less easily distrated from their intellectual goals. Was this because their neurological hardwiring made them better at systems, while women were better at empathy--because men valued abilities and things, while women valued feelings and people? How could we learn to place less values on feelings and people?

Lakshmi said it was weird that I wasn't on the literary magazine, like everyone else who wanted to be a writer, or like Lakshmi herself, who "wasn't a writer" but cared about writing. I didn't get what Lakshmi meant when she said she "wasn't a writer." 

"No it's different. I used to write poems...." Horror flickered over her face and I dropped the subject. 

The implication of "good riddance" -- that love would switch off, like an electric light, once you realized the object of your love was dumb, or cowardly, or had bad taste--was not strictly borne out by observation. There were signs that it was, in fact, possible to suffer enormously over cowards with bad taste. But maybe such misfortunes only befell women of an earlier generation--women who were, as they themselves assured me, less fortunate and less smart than I was. It was a relief to find Pushkin corroborating what my relatives had always said: that it was better to be smart and honest than to play games. 

Once I learned how to write, I did it all the time, filling up one notebook after another, recording different things that people said, or that I had read in books. Adults would ask if I was writing a novel. I assumed that I was: that what I was writing was already somehow a novel, or that this kind of writing would someday naturally segue into novel-writing. 

It wasn't until high school, when I took my first creative writing class, that I began to sense trouble. I realized, with shock, that I wasn't good at creative writing. I was good at grammer and arguing, at remembering things people said, and at making stressful situations seem funny. But it turned out these weren't the skills you needed in order to invent quirky people and give them arcs of desire. I already had my hands full writing about the people I actually knew, and all the things they said. That was what I needed writing for. Now I had to invent extra people and think of things for them to say? 

The rest of the poem was about how regrets came later, but for now there was just "pleasure, pain, supposed love, / And just being in his arms." 

What were the regrets that came later? Was it that she had thought he loved her, and then it turned out he didn't? It couldn't be that, again--could it? Was that what everything was about?

“Nobody was going to trick me into marrying some loser, and even if they did, I would write the goddam book myself (349).”

The verdict is out, I really love Batuman’s writing. It’s just so good. Selin is asking all the right questions. 

Arie P

“Nobody was going to trick me into marrying some loser, and even if they did, I would write the goddam book myself (349).”

The verdict is out, I really love Batuman’s writing. It’s just so good. Selin is asking all the right questions. 

sooo enjoyable to read about someone who is in the same stage of their life as myself that thinks in the way that selin does.. both incredibly smart and funny...

ryan

this book was so funny and entertaining to read that i found myself cackling at some points, it’s as if this book was a longggg facetime call with a close friend who can’t resist but give details to everything she has experienced 

micki

Chris Dailey

Fun and cerebral jaunt through sophomore year at Harvard. Full of literary references and awesomely awkward sexual encounters, the novel follows the Selin as she navigates her second year of college without any major, but plenty of minor fanfare. Friendship, family, culture, sexuality and self-discovery are all package in a neat coming of age tale. The real strength comes from the acerbic wit and cringy moments where the veneer wipes away. Humor and intelligence reign supreme here.

Sohini Roy

i need a.) a third and fourth part to this series but also b.) a thorough psychoanalysis of selin’s mind and why it works that way

I’m so in love with Selin. I hope she writes a book. also I missed Svetlana she was such a refreshing character. 

jannah

selin my thought daughter turned thot daughter 🫶

 wen

holds the same tone as The Idiot but spends more time in Selin’s head than aloud through her relationships. Unlike the first book, this one skims through her class experience at Harvard more swiftly and instead focuses on what she does outside of class socially. I enjoyed the second half during her travel experience the most. 

amari

Rosa

much like how i felt the idiot was very similar to my life, i related more to selin in this book -- she was also less of a doormat, which was good both for her and for my self image

Elena Kuran

Elif Batuman is so funny and it's so easy to love Selin. I loved this one more than The Idiot

I wonder who i woud be if i knew a fraction of what elif batuman knows 

Magdalena

7/10...

I wonder who i woud be if i knew a fraction of what elif batuman knows 

having mixed feelings about this one that i can't exact if i actually enjoyed the book as a whole or just the glimmers of it where selin's life is in tune with where i am with my own. it took me a while to finish reading because i found myself not as engaged as i hoped to be at times when i sat down with my copy of the book. elif batuman created something special with selin's narrative voice, but there were parts where it was personally tedious to read through. and yet i cannot deny that either/or had enough of a Compelling Factor for me to actually finish instead of marking it with a dnf.

the meandering done by selin in this book echoes a lot of the things i've pressingly discussed with friends in recent years (and some just days ago). unlike with the idiot, selin seems to have a stronger grasp at what she is trying to understand about her identity, what to make sense of the people around her, and treading through the onset of her sexual and romantic desires. at times her voice felt like i was reading a really, really (REALLY) long message from a friend i haven't heard from in a while and i'm nodding along trying to piece together the giant clump of thought that was presented to me. in this book, selin felt almost like a friend. one i don't always understand, but would listen to because she is actually funny and intelligent and needs the space to talk about the things in her life. selin was insufferable at times, but means well usually. she is the voice for all the people on tiktok and twitter who talk about being a teenage girl while living through the early years adulthood.

i don't hate this, honestly. but i can't say i was enamored or completely charmed by it? i guess for the most part, i understand it. i get selin and what she's trying to say and i think batuman did a great job at conveying the confusion and dissatisfaction some of us arrive at when we're at a Point in our lives. it's mostly because of how much i am able to sympathize with selin that i think i had a difficult time enjoying this. would i read a sequel to it? yes. would i re-read either/or? maybe, but probably when i'm older and hopefully out of the same woes selin is experiencing in her own narrative. for now, i'll skim through the citations batuman included for this book because they look like a treat to go through lol

gabi

having mixed feelings about this one that i can't exact if i actually enjoyed the book as a whole or just the glimmers of it where selin's life is in tune with where i am with my own. it took me a while to finish reading because i found myself not as engaged as i hoped to be at times when i sat down with my copy of the book. elif batuman created something special with selin's narrative voice, but there were parts where it was personally tedious to read through. and yet i cannot deny that either/or had enough of a Compelling Factor for me to actually finish instead of marking it with a dnf.

the meandering done by selin in this book echoes a lot of the things i've pressingly discussed with friends in recent years (and some just days ago). unlike with the idiot, selin seems to have a stronger grasp at what she is trying to understand about her identity, what to make sense of the people around her, and treading through the onset of her sexual and romantic desires. at times her voice felt like i was reading a really, really (REALLY) long message from a friend i haven't heard from in a while and i'm nodding along trying to piece together the giant clump of thought that was presented to me. in this book, selin felt almost like a friend. one i don't always understand, but would listen to because she is actually funny and intelligent and needs the space to talk about the things in her life. selin was insufferable at times, but means well usually. she is the voice for all the people on tiktok and twitter who talk about being a teenage girl while living through the early years adulthood.

i don't hate this, honestly. but i can't say i was enamored or completely charmed by it? i guess for the most part, i understand it. i get selin and what she's trying to say and i think batuman did a great job at conveying the confusion and dissatisfaction some of us arrive at when we're at a Point in our lives. it's mostly because of how much i am able to sympathize with selin that i think i had a difficult time enjoying this. would i read a sequel to it? yes. would i re-read either/or? maybe, but probably when i'm older and hopefully out of the same woes selin is experiencing in her own narrative. for now, i'll skim through the citations batuman included for this book because they look like a treat to go through lol

As _____ says: they should have let her do something that wasn't a sequel. Nevertheless, deeply humane and touching (tho very grim and unflinching on sexual violence, nb.) look at the feeling of being constrained within an imagined genre, and a fine retort to its predecessor; tho like its predecessor a bit over-concerned with the inherent beauty of being an undergraduate & c (but I am also very concerned with the issue of living an ‘aesthetic life‘ so I cannot fault this too much). I am still not sure where I fall on the implicit story about the literary & philosophical canon making it impossible to see through the invisible hand of anti-feminist forces (as it were): on the one hand it's hard to deny this, but I think on the other it's not always clear that the sense of being an invisible, disembodied observer of such things is without merit. 

Like everything Batuman writes, much to love and much to resonate with, but neither of the novels has entirely hit the right note for me. Too much self?

Nedostojan nastavak. Je li mi jezik toliko fascinantniji od književnosti?

Dora Tominic

Disclaimer: this is not a review.

Nedostojan nastavak. Je li mi jezik toliko fascinantniji od književnosti?

everything i disliked about the idiot was addressed so so perfectly in either/or that i couldn't help but enjoy this novel tremendously... i've never felt so seen before 

I preferred the first novel, but Bautman has an incredible way of writing that makes ordinary moments seem spectacularly fascinating and the inordinary moments seem blasé and forgettable. I will follow the series as long as bautman continues it. Selin’s sexual exploration made me reminisce on my experience, reminding me that despite there being 20 years of difference between my college experience and Selin’s, not much has really changed. 

Syrina

Meghan Navoy

I could read about Selin's adventures and menial activities forever. Elif Batuman is such an incredible writer. She makes the most mundane things sound interesting and eventful. I loved this one just as much as The Idiot!

Oz Lubling

I found it quite enjoyable to inhabit the world of this book. From college life, parties, books, the humanities and travel, to relationships, sex and friendship. The author is a master observer always able to point out the absurd beauty of mundane life moments.

Charles McNeilll

I could hear Sally Rooney yelling in the margins.

elif’s writing leaves my mind feeling so stimulated and amused :’) i just loved it.