Petty and pathetic

"Books, which we mistake for consolation, only add depth to our sorrow."

This quote comes directly from My name is red, Orhan Pamuk.

Of course, true.

Why only books? Every single in experience in life is like that. Well, may be, we dont mistake them for consolation, but they all add depth to our sorrow.

Another quote from the same book:

"Maybe you’ve understood by now that for men like myself, that is, melancholy
men for whom love, agony, happiness and misery are just excuses for
maintaining eternal loneliness, life offers neither great joy nor great sadness.
I’m not saying we can’t relate to other souls overwhelmed by these feelings,
on the contrary, we sympathize with them. What we cannot fathom is the odd
disquiet our souls sink into at such times. This silent turmoil dims our
intellects and dampens our hearts, usurping the place reserved for the true joy
and sadness we ought to experience."

Why I hate Orhan? Because he seems to be a happy fellow. He seems to make fun of people he can observe so well. Could he be writing merely by observing others, or did he feel it himself? Can an author write about things he doesnt really mean? So that, what he has written, even though is very correct, is actually fake?

(Uptade: Perhaps this is not true about Orhan - several of his books are filled with the word melancholy, like the character of Ka in Snow)

Looking back, how petty and pathetic life seems to have been, and still is!

Other references: monologues by the male character in Dostoevsky's White Nights.

This helps, though: