Istanbul

Orhan Pamuk, Turkey's most famous novelist, shares with us an intimate view of his childhood and of Istanbul in the 1950's, 60's and 70's. Pamuk certainly doesn't shy away from the detail of either topic. This is an in-depth book, broken (sensibly) into short chapters, and interspersed with loads of old (black and white) photographs. It is obvious that as well as his own recollections and knowledge, there has been much research into building the detailed history. It is a somewhat eclectic collection of topics, zig-zagging all the way, but largely in chronological order.

Pamuk has a clear affection for his city of birth, but he doesn't shy from sharing the parts of Istanbul that show it as city in decline. From burning mansions on the Bosphorus to the old cobblestone alleys with neglected buildings, Pamuk describes them in rich detail, following up with photographs of almost every aspect he writes about.

His family and family history lies exposed for all to see, and the intimate details are not spared. He shares his childhood thoughts and beliefs, his father having and affair and its effect on his mother, and his first love - and while the largest part of this memoir is melancholy and about the troubles of his life, there are some genuinely funny parts. Politics and religion were also open topics, nothing was off the table, modernisation, Westernisation, ethnic immigrants who were arriving in Istanbul.

Interwoven through this history are artists and literary figures - those from Turkey and those who visited, and their thought and opinions are also explored. While we know Pamuk as a writer, his first involvement with the arts was painting, which he persisted with throughout the novel. I made no real connection with the artists or literary figures (especially the Turkish ones!), but one great aspect of this book are the short chapters - no topic is persisted with for too long (although some are revisited).

P268
Even if I didn't believe in God as much as I might have wished, part of me still hoped that if God was omniscient as people said, She must be clever enough to understand why it was that I was incapable of faith - and so forgive me. [...] What I feared most was not God but those who believed in Her to excess. The stupidity of the pious - whose judgement could never be compared with those of the God - God forbid - they adored with all their heart - that was the second thing that scared me.

P289
One day, too, sex would cease to be a solitary pursuit; I would have a beautiful lover with whom I would share my forbidden pleasures.

The publication of this book in 2005, aligns with my visit to Istanbul. For me it still had the old-world feel, the history in the cobbled streets, the buildings, the Bosphorus. I enjoyed the backfill this book provided, mixed with the childhood memories offered up by Pamuk. I haven't read any of the authors fiction, but own one, and will read it in due course!

4 stars.