One of the thing that amazed me each time I visited old churches in Europe was the devotion shown by the artisans toiling years after years to create each statue and stained glass window. It gave me some perspective on what it means to build with love. In this book Pamuk has shown me another art done with love, which is the Turkish miniature painting, and there I found again people with undying love towards their art. Then there's the art talk, the dispute on beauty and the love story. Everything were the things I interested about. Wait, wasn't this book about a murder? Yes, and that's another thing I like to read about. But somehow the murder or who the murderer was took a back stage for me. I drank up all the description on the paintings and the question which is more real and worthy of being painted, the world that you saw or the ideal one inside your head, I couldn't really concentrate on separating Butterfly with Olive or Stork. Maybe that's why it only get 3stars instead of 4 stars from me. Still, isn't wonderful how each of us can get something different from the same book?
