Istanbul: Memories and the City
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- ISBN13: 9781400033881
- Condition: NEW
- Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
Product Description
A shimmering evocation, by turns intimate and panoramic, of one of the world’s fantastic cities, by its foremost writer. Orhan Pamuk was born in Istanbul and still lives in the family tree apartment building where his mother first held him in her arms. His portrait of his city is thus also a self-portrait, refracted by memory and the melancholy–or hüzün– that all Istanbullus share: the sadness that comes of living amid the ruins of a lost empire.
With cinematic fluidity, Pamuk moves from his glamorous, miserable parents to the gorgeous, decrepit mansions overlooking the Bosphorus; from the dawning of his self-consciousness to the writers and painters–both Turkish and foreign–who would shape his consciousness of his city. Like Joyce’s Dublin and Borges’ Buenos Aires, Pamuk’s Istanbul is a triumphant encounter of place and sensibility, perfectly written and immensely moving.
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I visited Istanbul twice and can still see, hear, smell and feel the vibrancy of this exotic, magnificent city. I keenly anticipated reading this book. Disappointedly, I establish this leader’s lifelong experiences to be melancholy and his writings meandering. His reflections and observances offer a few gorgeous moments but persons moments are not worth the tedious read.
Reader’s Rating: 2 / 5
I read this book ‘in parallel’ with Amos Oz’s “A Tale of Like and Darkness”; both are written by noted novelists looking back at their early years, but they are vastly different: a character-all ears dynamic memoir marked by the birth of a state (Oz) versus a landscape-centered pathetic travelogue marred by the death of an empire (Pamuk)!
I generally do not read novels, so Pamuk is no exception. It is hard for me to judge that he has been so successful, as I establish the writing in “Istanbul” rather mediocre. Although I can see an overall decadent individual producing fantastic fiction, I suspect that his success is propelled by Turkey’s bid to join the EU: identity fusion such as “White Castle”’s and overall ‘confusion’ between East and West serves as a fantastic flavor for Turkey’s bid in the Brussells kitchen!
Of course a careful reading of “Istanbul” may reveal the origins of Pamuk’s East-West vision, and clarify the style of writing as well: when the leader was young he dreamed of apt a painter, and that dream was fueled by relentless exposure to Western painters and travelers, so in the end he is not sure whether he stares at his own city as a Turk or a Westerner, etc etc.
But in addition to persons Western painters and writers there were some local Turks whose quest for ‘Turkishness’ amidst Ottoman Istanbul’s ruins — and contemporary Istanbul’s poorer districts — did not escape Pamuk’s notice. There is nothing unique in intellectuals from ‘peripheral’ countries searching for their ‘roots’ in the culture and lifestyle of persons fellow men that are — or rather were, before globalization — least likely to be affected by foreign influences. But in Turkey’s case we have the added paradox of a parent empire that shunned the mother tongue and generally did not view itself as ‘Turkish’; add to that a city that was largely non-Muslim when Pamuk was born and the most prominent monuments of which are pre-Ottoman, and you start to see where the leader is coming from.
I could be biased due to my ethnicity, but the concept of contemporary — to a young Pamuk at least — Turks not knowing what to make of a fabulous city they somehow ‘inherited’ seems to emerge through the reading of “Istanbul”. To his credit, the leader is very open about the endless persecutions of the now nearly extinct Greek (Rum) minority, and he even mentions the silence of the Turkishness-seeking Istanbul intellectuals after the 1955 pogrom. But this honesty does not make me share his sorrow at the decay of Ottoman Istanbul, and the vividly described phantasmagoric to cathartic burnings of the ancient pasha villas by the Bosporus in particular.
Ah, yes, the Bosporus… Many of the book’s best moments are connected to it — like the young leader’s awe at the silent passing of a larger-than-death Soviet warship in the middle of the night, for example. Another moment for which I retain some affection is the ancient museum guard ending a young couple’s kisses through the sound of his steps on decaying wooden floor…
As additional reviewers — notably Turks — have pointed out, you don’t get a excellent image of contemporary Istanbul and its dynamism by reading “Istanbul”. I can even say that a Guardian article by his translator (Maureen Freely) following the November 2003 terrorist attacks was, in a way, more worthwhile reading than the entire Pamuk’s memoir! Still, “Istanbul” might be remembered in the future as a valuable chronicle of that global city in its numbing phase between Ottoman Turkey and European Turkey.
Reader’s Rating: 3 / 5
Orhan Pamuk has been in the news lately, owing to the Nobel Prize he was awarded in Literature. To me, it is permanently uplifting to see non-Western names in the Nobel lineup. I chose to check him out, and not having much time, preferred the light reading offered by Istanbul. It is an amazingly marvelous way of describing the conflicts faced by well-settled people, in developing countries, as changes sweep by, mostly for the worse. These changes are the modern realities of overcrowded cities, dumping of history and monuments, and migration of peoples from the rural areas. They can also be seen as muddled attempts at Westernization in most of the Third World; attempts running up against the limitations of wealth, land, innovation, and job creation. This can apply to any city in the Third World, caught in the realities of the modern era. I could easily change the names of the places in Istanbul, and could very well be in a city in India; such is the power of Pamuc’s expression.
All the changes have brought on a certain melancholy in the leader, and he describes the various ways he coped with it. In the process, he has bared a lot of details about his personal ways and I find one description particularly disturbing—there is repeated description of masturbation in chapter after chapter. If it was right in his case, then was there a repeated need to bare this? I earnestly hope that this form of self-flagellation is not a gold standard for catching the attention of the Nobel Committee. Such a excellent book, and what would have been a excellent introduction to a legendary writer, sorry to say, cannot be recommnded for young readers.
Reader’s Rating: 4 / 5
Sharp analysis on how Instanbul’s heard bits following all roots and never fearing, censoring “black holes” of nationalistic past and presence. Pamuk avoided apt cheap romantic and although not in his main focus, confesses past truths by taking high personal cost. Not only very advisable before visiting Turkey and Istanbul, but for everyone who tries to know how turkish mindset consists and from where tensions, uniqueness and prejudices but also sweetness of turkish soul sources. Sorry to say for Pamuk, like every prophet in his own land, Turkey doesn’t know the cultural and political capital that could be exploited from his hot confessions.
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5
Orhan Pamuk brilliantly descibes the city he was born with melancholic touches. I reflect he is at his best at this novel. He is certainly one of the fantastic masters of his era. I couldn’t help wiping tears.
Reader’s Rating: 5 / 5