While White Nights is often talked about as a story of love and yearning, I found myself drawn more to its sense of loneliness and isolation. It feels like a quiet study of two people who are both lonely, but in very different ways.

Nastenka’s loneliness comes from a life that feels small and constricted, where even simple hopes take on a heavy weight. The narrator, on the other hand, carries a more inward, contemplative loneliness, one shaped by solitude, imagination, and distance from the world around him. When their paths cross, what connects them is less romance than a shared need to be seen and heard, if only briefly.

What moved me most is how gently this story handles human longing, without turning it into grand drama or clear resolutions. And of course, Dostoevsky’s writing plays a huge role here. His prose is delicate and atmospheric, capturing a cold, quiet, and melancholic mood with remarkable clarity. The emotional tone feels restrained yet deeply felt, making the reading experience both subtle and quietly affecting.

It’s more like a journal from Dutch perceptive about Indonesia colonialism and the slavery. Iksaka Banu is really detailed about how the government and Batavia looked alike from 17th century. Also the book is so well-researched. Even the author gave the source of his own research.

About the storyline, it’s slow-paced and a bit dragging at first. But in the end, it’s worth it to wait. The ending also realistic, even it’s not like what we want.

I read this book completely blind. I didn’t even check the blurb, just glanced at the cover, the title, and the page count. It turns out the title is quite literal: a cat who says he must save books that have been “imprisoned.” A simple and slightly odd premise, but intriguing enough to pull me in.

I appreciated the topic the author raises about changing reading habits and an increasingly capitalistic book industry. There’s a quiet concern about how reading today often feels rushed, efficiency-driven, and focused on quantity, as if finishing matters more than experiencing the book itself. The novel also touches on how the publishing world sometimes prioritizes what sells over what lingers. None of this is presented in a heavy-handed way; the critique is gentle, almost cautious, which matches the overall tone of the story.

I also enjoyed coming across so many book titles throughout the novel. It felt like getting an unexpected reading list, especially since some of them have been sitting on my TBR for ages.

While the themes are thoughtful, they didn’t feel particularly new or groundbreaking. I enjoyed the book and the conversations it invites, but it isn’t one that lingered with me.

Still, it makes for a calm, reflective reading experience, the kind you can settle into without effort, and perhaps recommend to readers who simply want something quiet and contemplative.