Three Floors Up was the first book by Eshkol Nevo that I read. Without my mum's insistence, I wouldn't have given him a second chance because I didn't particularly enjoy this novel.
At a superficial read, I considered it the equivalent of a sub-par Yehoshua book. At a deeper read, with its links to Freudian psychoanalysis, I found it pretentious and excessively symbolic and allegorical.
Of the three floors, the only one I'd honestly try to peek into would be the first, with the over-protective father determined to find out the truth about what happened to his sister despite the risk of ruining everyone's lives; the second floor left me uninterested, and the third one actually kind of annoyed me with the judge appearing as a self-styled deus ex machina of the Israeli street protests.
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