"The Zahir" started well, yet around 100 pages into the book my leverage level dropped. God, how I disdained this book! It starts OK: a raving success yet essentially despised author(the storyteller of the book) and his significant other end up being unnecessarily self-satisfied in their marriage and start disparaging each other.
The mate parts, and, after some bona fide soul chasing, she transforms into the author’s "Zahir"(which means "obsession" or "remarkable need." The word is repeated in the book around a thousand times just to teach us concerning the centrality of the thought).
He by then starts on an extraordinary mission to get her back(which, at one of the novel’s low concentrations, joins skipping with shrewd street destitute individuals). Under 100 pages in, the book relapses into a silly philosophical surrealistic paper on the "imperativeness of veneration."
I figure, if you are the kind of person that prerequisites to love the principal character in order to examine a novel, by then this isn’t your book. I couldn’t stand him and I genuinely assume that the guideline character isn’t a reflection Paul Coelho. I almost disposed of this book, in any case I rather gave it away. I cherished "The Alchemist’.