Chapters 1-3

In the first two chapters I found two things that caught my attention. The first is the ‘other Orhan.’ The second is the sitting room museums. I don’t think that it is by accident that they connect to the two ideas that I said I was going to focus on.

The ‘other Ohran’ is interesting because it give an insight in to the strange sort of alienation that Pamuk seems to feel towards himself. This goes to the first of the two main things that I want to focus on while reading the book: Pamuk’s life. The other boy that sometimes brings him dread but at other times seems to be him as he daydreams, or a him he wants to escape to but is afraid to.

He also seems to distance himself from his own story, or himself, in other ways. He says: “I feel compelled to add or so I’ve been told. In Turkish we have a special tense that allows us to distinguish hearsay from what we’ve seen with our own eyes… Once imprinted in our minds, other people’s reports of what we’ve done end up mattering more than what we ourselves remember. And just as we learn about our loves from other, so too do we let others shape our understanding of the city in which we live…. I’d have written my entire story… as if my life was something that happened to someone else…” (Kindle 140-152)

In the second chapter Pamuk talks about the “sitting-room museums.” They are full of things that are never used but are there to be testament to the inhabitants embrace of Western culture (Chinese porcelains, teacups, silver sets, sugar bowls, snuffboxes, crystal glasses, rosewater ewers, etc.) and also the family roots (the photographs and portraits). He talks about how sitting in these museums can make some on who is not fasting during Ramadan feel less guilty. But he also acknowledge that aside from a vague liberation from Islam, the point of westernization is unclear: “Although everyone knew it as freedom from the laws of Islam, no one was quite sure what else westernization was good for.” (Kindle 176)

Though he says early on in the book that he has always been in Istanbul, or always gone back to it, (he writes this book in the penthouse apartment of the same building the story starts in). Maybe Pamuk's roots are in Istanbul but where are Istanbul's roots? Istanbul is supposed to be the place where East and West meet, and that is part of what draws me to this book.

In his novel Snow the two main characters (the narrator and the poet) both seem to be struggling with a homelessness in terms of both place and culture: caught between Eastern Turkey and Western Europe. I have the impression that Pamuk’s life is like that as well; I think I got that impression from his Nobel acceptance speech.

I see the sitting-room museums as a symbol and manifestation of this homelessness.

I also made note that it isn’t until the third chapter that he makes mention of non-western literature. But then it seems to be to mention stories told to him as a child—stories of Turkish and Persian origin. He seems much more surrounded by western stories and literature: comic books, Disney films, stories by Italo Calvino and Jules Vern.

Chapter 3 introduces us to hi ‘bibi.’ This whole thing makes me think of St. Agustine. I guess the following quote seems to fit with him in my mind: “I worried that I had done something wrong or, even worse, that I had done so for pleasure: It was then that they very idea of pleasure became poisoned.” This is interesting and an idea I want to follow through the book.

Istanbul: Setting Out

As I read this book there are two things that I want to focus on. First, I want to learn about Pamuk: his life and creative process-- or the life that resulted in some one as talented as he is. Second, I want to think about the meeting of "East and West" that takes place in Istanbul and in Pamuk's writing and life.

AJ and I have revived the cows after a long slumber. We look to start posting on Pamuk's Istanbul next week. More details will follow.

Blue says: “…are we to conclude that democracy, freedom, and human rights don’t matter, that all the West wants is for the rest of the world to imitate them like monkeys? Can the West endure any democracy achieved by its enemies who in no way resemble them?” (p. 228)

If we add two words, ‘speech’ after the first freedom and ‘and freedom’ after the second democracy, I think this could have come out of the mouth of the Iranian President. It would be a brilliant attack on ‘the West’ and one that should make us think. I feel more and more that Pamuk’s book is so very relevant to the current state of the world.


Also:
I have been reading “My Name Is Red” and chewing over the narrative style and issues of reality and fiction as I do so. I still am not quite sure what to think of the end of Snow: how we find out who the narrator is and the request on the last page. I will post on that but not yet.

Nonspecific thoughts on Ka

Chapter 29 is the first and perhaps only instance where I felt sympathy for Ka. I think it can be attributed to the (seeming) love that Orhan, the narrator, shows for our listless protagonist; the way he cries repeatedly as he traces Ka's empty life in Frankfurt; the way he describes the squalor that Ka lives in and Ka's emotional and physical dependence on pornography. Even still, what is Orhan really after? He travels to Frankfurt to find Ka's notebook, which contains some kind of masterful collection of poetry. Does Orhan tell Ka's story out of love? Out of failure to find Ka's poems? Does he, like Fazil, secretly relish in his friend's death, because now Ka's story belongs to him? Friendship is a theme that I have not yet broached in my meanderings.

Ka is, I believe, quite an opportunist. His advice to Kadife is telling: " 'Life's not about principles, it's about happiness' " (p. 338). To her credit, she immediately detects this insincerity when she asks him how he can convince someone of something that he does not believe in. Ka serves his own interests and lacks the sense of community that belongs to religious groups. He simply wants to leave Kars in one piece, as he assures us over and again. But what is happiness without principles? How does one achieve it? The narrator describes fleeting moments of happiness, mainly after Ka writes a poem or after intercourse with Ipek. Aristotle would say: Is this pleasure or happiness?

Ultimately, I know happiness will--out of necessity--elude Ka. He does not want it. He suffers whenever he's on the cusp of real intimacy, the kind that happiness grows from. Happiness is literally a fantasy, a dreamscape, a hope imbedded in the future of returns. His whimsical, snow-like floating essence only entangles him more and more in the plots and political turmoil of Kars, unlike the narrator's predictions early on that Ka's apolitical, dervish-like demeanor keeps him innocent. Instead, by chapter 36, Ka is a mediator who looks to be trapped in some foulness. If I didn't know Ka is killed in Germany, I would think he'd be killed in Kars straightaway.

There is a lot going on in chapters 15 to 21 (yeah, I am behind). I will just hit some highlights; they mostly cling to the theme of religion.

Necip’s landscape is very interesting and it is especially so because of what he thinks it reveals about his deep self. He thinks that if there is a place where God does not exist then God must not exist at all. I think the all or nothing aspect of his reasoning is very intriguing. To say that because something is not everywhere it is not at all is extreme and a logical fallacy. But that Necip would think this way, without seeming to questioning it, says a lot about him and the conception of God that he has and likely shares with his friends. This says worlds about fundamentalism of all types.

If God is not everywhere then he must not be anywhere-- this is a strong statement. And Necip turns this upon himself and uses it to question his own faith. This is wild and very powerful. He says: If I can imagine a place where God does not exist (because that would mean that God does not exist at all) then I must not really believe. This seems a significant point to notice. It seems to me that it is something that we need to be aware of in the real world, that this sort of thinking can exist and motivate action of real people.

The conversation that Ka and Necip have about happiness is great as well. Necip says that, “Only idiots and villains ca be happy in Kars” and that unhappiness gives him strength because he strives to escape from ‘Kars’ somehow and be happy. It seems that unhappiness gives him strength because it draws him to change or make change—and not settle, like an idiot, in Kars or simply take advantage of the situation there like a villain. This is different from Ka who talks about unhappiness protecting him from life. This seems like a twisted sort of Buddhist detachment from life. This detachment is a retreat into unhappiness that seems to protect him from being disappointed. Some where tied up in all of this (on page 138) the narrator points out that what is happening on stage allows everyone to laugh at the misery of the Turk… The tension or even conflict between happiness, unhappiness, faith, secularism, westernization, poverty and other things that pop up is great.

The mention of Coleridge’s Kubla Khan is wonderful.

I am still puzzled (and I have read to Ch 27 now) at what the last paragraph in ch 16 means. We see ‘the last image of my friend of 27 years.’ But Ka is still alive the next day… What is being said there and what happens to Ka?

The ambiguity of how the audience interprets the covered woman on stage when the ‘play’ starts is good. I like that Pamuk points out how the scarf itself has changed meaning since the play was originally written and how that in conjunction with the different perspectives, fears and hopes of the audience members makes it a symbol with varied and shifting meaning and significance.

The fear that the secularists have when the head scarf is removed is presented wonderfully. They want (or wanted that) but have resigned to something less because of fear or realism. They think ‘as long as they don’t start to make Western women wear head scarves—like Iran does—then they will be satisfied’ though they may still speak out against it.

The main job of the cultural director is almost as humorous as the activities of the Animal Enthusiasts. He basically is there to confiscate and report on ‘deviant’ culture, not at all to organize or promote cultural events. (p. 149) I think this says a lot about the ambiguity of what Turkish culture is in light of the diversity in Turkey. What can they promote as culture? Religion is a difficult topic. Secular culture can be seen as a western import in a lot of cases. It seems it is best not to define culture in a positive way.

The fact that people at home long to be in the theater not to see the show but to see the TV crew shows how they are attached to technology and media (or should I say pop) culture. They don’t want to see a show which might have content, meaning or hold a mirror up to them. They want to see the lights and cameras.

I find it ironic that the soldiers that were sent to shoot at the crowd, who are members of the secular army, who (I have been told) are watched as to how often and where they pray, were made to swear with their hands on the Koran. (P. 159)

On page 168 Ka (actually I think it is really Pamuk speaking thru him) says, the “… poets ability to shut-off part of his mind even while the world is in turmoil. If this meant that a poet had no more connection to the present than a ghost did such was the price a poet had to pay for his art.” More is said about Ka and writing else where in the book. Pamuk is saying a lot of interesting stuff about writing. I am excited to read other works of his, like My Name Is Red, that are supposed to look at aesthetics more deeply. I think Pamuk is truly a thinker, that is different from a lot of writers these days… Then again he is a Nobel laureate.

That is enough for now… But I have a lot brewing in me about the next meeting with Blue.

Ka-racter Development

Zophik:

Been out of the loop for a while. I'm at chapter 22 and hoping to catch up this weekend. I've been taking a lot of notes. And one question which keeps leaping to the fore is if Ka is developing in any way. For example, toward the end of chapter 20, "Ipek sensed now that Ka's frame of mind was very different than the day before; he had, in fact, become a different person." But I fail to see any discernable change in his ambivalent, bourgeois disposition. His motivations aren't clearer; his wishy-washy attitude and melancholy are intact; his lack of self-awareness is ever-present. I hope this changes soon.

Perhaps, Kars is the central character in the novel. I love the way the narrator gives little histories of buildings. He looks into the past almost as much as he does the future.

Ok, let's talk soon!!!

AJ