I get it. Not all authors write in the same style, the same proficiency, the same genre, nor the same level of whatever readers want in each of their books. That is why there are novels that are more successful than others within their work.

Perhaps, therefore, there should be no real sympathy for me here, but Orhan Pamuk's The Museum of Innocence was by far one of my all-time favorites, a definite 5 Star. Sadly, I have read more of his works, increasingly desperately trying to find one that is even close to such greatness; the closest has been a pathetic 3.5 Stars. Le sigh.

Although I hate to admit it, finding another work from Pamuk very similar in personal preference to The Museum of Innocence will be difficult, since I have noticed that it is the least politically centered. It is there with his Turkish background, cultural notes, etc., that has become his trademark, but starkly less so. More so, it focuses far more on psychological and physiological ideas, romance and true love. Which I obviously have a weakness for.

Accepting but not quite accepting this, we shall move on to The Black Book. Honestly, my least favorite from Pamuk so far. Almost completely revolving around politics, which were honestly confusing for me to fully comprehend.

The main characters include Galip, the narrator; Ruya, his wife who disappears early on in the story, never outweighing the reader with her voice; Celal, her brother, a famous political newspaper columnist, who secretly suffers from an undefined memory disorder.

Other notable characters include authorities trying to find Celal, as well as a devoted reader, stalkerishly knowledgeable regarding the intimate miniature and nuances in Celal's life; possibly violent and trying to locate Celal who had disappeared along with Ruya. This man is actually speaking to Galip, who becomes an extremely unreliable narrator as he puts himself into Celal's shoes. Literally. He soon seems to even forget which is the real him, what is real and what is a dream or his imagination. Along with the reader.

The focus of this novel ends up being identity. For example, everything we do is essentially an imitation of someone else, something else - whether a fictional character, someone we know, someone we do not. Who is, of course, imitating someone else or something else. And so on.

A barber asked Celal a couple questions that changed his life and therefore play an important part in the story: "Do you have trouble being yourself?"; "Is there a way a man can be only himself?" The answer - at least according to The Black Book - is "No".

The chapters in this book alternate between Celal's columns and the story presently taking place with Galip searching for him and his wife Ruya. I far preferred the columns, as they were beautifully and lyrically written, straightforward with none of the mystical confusion found in the other chapters, with far more interesting content.

My favorite was the one titled, "Alaaddin's Shop", which tells the shopkeeper's story; his older-than-time store that sells everything from rare toys to old comics, chocolate bars to pink backgammon dice, pencil sharpeners shaped like Dutch Windmills to archived newspapers, sexology annuals to prayer books. Being the only fully stocked marketplace in his town for so many years, Alaaddin certainly has much to tell.

My second favorite column was that which told the story of a young Prince Enfendi. He was so enamored with the idea of staying true to oneself that he dedicated his entire life to it. Alas, this is a very difficult thing to do. Impossible if you were to take it literally. The Prince hoped to live without any influence from anyone. He threw away all the books he had so as to not be influenced by greater minds. He no longer met with anyone he had an affinity for, to avoid influence. He hired servants to extinguish all unique scents within his vicinity for fear of eliciting nostalgic memories. He began to see women whom he specifically disliked, so he could not be influenced by his desire to fulfill her desires. Unfortunately, he found himself caring more than ever for these women, as they were his only link to the outside world. Prince Enfendi was left with nothing but his devoted scribe, who transcribed his dying words.

Grāmata pacietīgajiem. It is a captivating work that contains countless stories within a story, which in turn is within yet another story and so on. The layers of narratives create a complex and engaging web that keeps the reader hooked from start to finish.

I have written a more extensive review on my blog: https://gramatas.wordpress.com/2020/1.... In this review, I delve deeper into the themes, characters, and writing style of the book. I explore how the author weaves together different plotlines and perspectives to create a rich and immersive reading experience.

Whether you are a fan of literature or simply looking for a thought-provoking read, Grāmata pacietīgajiem is definitely worth checking out. It offers a unique and unforgettable journey into the world of storytelling.

I have been carrying this book around for almost two months, and there are many reasons for that. One of them is its plot, which develops like a short story within a corner. Also, my inability to establish a connection between these two elements without feeling confused. The novel is overly long and has some low-quality sentences in places. There are also continuous references to the past. However, the most important reason is that The Black Book is a novel of a search. It introduces ordinary people like me, who have never pursued a lost lover, a secret sect, or an insurmountable great truth, to a completely foreign world. Researching topics such as Yeşilçam, old Istanbul, Hurufilik, and Şeyh Galib, which is much more than what is taught in high school literature classes, has been a journey unique to myself, at least as much as reading the book. The Black Book is the third Pamuk novel I have read, and it is by far the richest in every respect.

It makes me think deeply about various aspects of life and literature. The detailed descriptions and complex characters in the novel draw me in and make me feel as if I am part of that world. Pamuk's writing style is both beautiful and profound, making it a pleasure to read. I look forward to exploring more of his works in the future.

Tahsin Yücel's criticism has expressed everything I wanted to say about the Black Book in a language that is far beyond my expression ability, with detailed explanations page by page and examples given.

Nevertheless, there are several points that I find positive. One of them is that it talks about cousin marriage, which is a topic that I rarely encounter in the novels I have read, and it deals with it not as a part of rural culture, but with the extremely simple and plain narration of the feelings of a child who loves his cousin who grew up like a sister in a modern family in Istanbul. Galip's seeing and loving Rüya like a sister and also envying everything she has with a kind of jealousy towards a sister, similar to Seniha in Nahid Sırrı Örik's novel Jealousy, growing up with a jealousy that eats away at her inside all her life, becoming alienated from herself and going wild, although it gets a bit lost in the plot, I can say that it managed to attract my attention. Besides these, I think that the topics such as growing up with childhood love and loving someone who grew up beside you, which are mentioned in small parts in the novel, are also beautifully and subtly told, or maybe because there are parts that touch on my own life, they may have had an effect on me more than they deserve.

Of course, these are not the foundations of the novel, just small highlights and they are never enough to cover up the many shortcomings of the novel. Let alone these, those few very beautiful stories are not enough to cover up the shortcomings because, as Tahsin Yücel said in his criticism: “…To prove that there is a connection between the relationship between Mevlana and Şems and the heresy, the strange mannequins hidden underground with the unfinished story or the draining of the waters of the Bosphorus, a new novel needs to be written. Remove half of these parts, nothing changes; add one more such part, again nothing changes. The term "encyclopedic novel" has been found as a cover for this disconnection that surprises those who first see the novel as a "structure."

Galip, a lawyer in Istanbul, is searching for his wife, Rüya, who has left home and left him a letter consisting of nineteen words written in green ink, like that of the pen his cousin Celâl - Rüya's stepbrother - had lent him and which had fallen to the bottom of the Bosporus. Rüya is also his cousin, the daughter of his uncle and his second wife, the beautiful aunt Suzan, and Galip is her second husband, as she was previously married to a leftist journalist. [And, particularly significant is also the fact that Rüya in Turkish means to dream and that green (the ink of the pen) is the color of Islam, so this made me think of a particular meaning of this search. Also, the number nineteen seems to have a special symbolic meaning.]

When he starts to search for her, Galip realizes that Celâl has also disappeared. Celâl is also a journalist and for years has been writing a column that deals with Istanbul and the Turkish people. Imagining that the two stepbrothers may be together, Galip begins to reread all of Celâl's column articles, reconstructing snapshots of Istanbul that no longer exist or trying to give an identity to the Turkish people, even though he comes to the conclusion, just like Celâl, that in this country no one can ever be himself! In this land of frustrated and unfortunate people, to be means to be someone else. I am someone else, therefore I am.

The nature of Celâl's column, moreover, prompts many Turks to identify with him:

On the other hand, I am perfectly aware of having compatriots not only here in Istanbul but throughout the country who are convinced that they are Celâl Salik, who present themselves as Celâl Salik, for very noble and correct reasons.
In fact, on certain nights when I wander around the city incognito, I am surprised to meet some of them in certain seedy places in very poor neighborhoods, in vague moments of our dark life, in the heart of the mystery; I have even made friends with some of these unhappy people who manage to be so «me» as to terrify me. Istanbul is an immense place, an incomprehensible place.

Even Galip sometimes pretends to be Celâl, writing some articles for his column and, later, definitely taking his place at the newspaper.

All in all, there is nothing as surprising as life. Except writing.
Writing. Yes, of course, except writing, the only consolation we have.

In conclusion, it has been a stimulating read, but perhaps a bit redundant, nothing to do with My Name Is Red.

What a difficult book to read! At first, I started it in English, but after two chapters, I decided to start it again in a Spanish translation. This was mainly because I have always read Pamuk in Spanish, and for some reason, I like it more. But it still gave me a hard time! It's a book by someone who loves stories, telling all kinds of different stories, about executioners, poets, princes, everything. But the main story, or what seems to be the main story, is about a man named Galip who one day is abandoned by his wife. His story is suffocating because from the moment that happens, he starts to invent an entire reality that is not the truth. And he gets less and less in touch with the world, and the little that crosses his path is surrounded by lies, invented by him... And Celal, the other main character, a non-existent character, just someone you read about in his column, or about whom others talk, but who never speaks outside of that. At one point, Galip decides to speak for him. So many things happen in this book. Sometimes it was hard for me to follow, and sometimes what it told seemed beautiful to me. Pamuk remains one of my favorites, but for me, the most well-rounded of all his books is still "My Name Is Red."

Kara Kitap was the fourth book that we read with our #heraybirorhanpamuk reading group this year, and it became one of the most impactful and unforgettable books for me. Pamuk himself had described it as 'the strangest and most different novel of mine' :) It is a book that was crafted with great artistic skill and mystery over a period of five years.

Of course, in the plot, there are many cultural and historical symbols that need to be resolved and whose mystery needs to be illuminated. For this reason, it has an aspect that is both heavy to read and gives more pleasure as you read it. The main theme being dealt with is 'the way for a person to find himself'. In this technological age where cultures and people are reduced to uniformity, it also contains a message that all civilizations and individuals can only be saved if they can be themselves. The epigraphs that we read at the beginning of each section are also like a hint in this sense. Besides these, Pamuk also makes references to very valuable works of Turkish and world literature. This was another element that added flavor to the work. I had said that I was intoxicated in the sections related to Proust. Just like in Proust, the real issue is not the events, but the plot tries to create small labyrinths in the reader's mind. Along with the trio of Dream, Celal, and Galip, the stories in this subtext have placed the book in a separate position.

I read it with great love. Of course, it is not a book that can be recommended to everyone. But I am sure that for readers who can read patiently and focus, it will be a reading that they will love and not forget. I will also read The Secrets of Kara Kitap in the shortest possible time.

Youtube channel: https://www.youtube.com/user/ayseum

This novel, presented as a detective story, has so many layers, so many influences and allusions that you simply wonder how it was possible to so organically intertwine all these threads into a single fabric with a complex pattern.

The detective story of the search for Ruya's missing wife and Jaleel's cousin is for maintaining interest and attracting a mass reader, while everything else is for the musings of a reader who delves into the details and meaning. Here you will find both wanderings through the city, reminiscent of Joyce's "Ulysses"; and Ibsenian motifs of searching for an answer to the question: "What does it mean to be oneself", and not only in relation to an individual, but also to an entire nation; and the study of all kinds of trends and heresies, similar to Umberto Eco, but only Sufi (Bektashi, Hurufi); and the change of appearance, getting into someone else's "skin", as the padishahs did in "A Thousand and One Nights"; and the motifs of Dante's "Ada"; - but all this similarity does not at all deprive this novel of its originality, is not a simple repetition and, moreover, this makes Pamuk "himself", based on his understanding of this concept.

The writer is concerned about very many things. For example, take the interaction/opposition of the East and the West. The Robinsonades of Defoe and Ibn Tufail (1110 - 1185), the travels to the otherworldly world in Dante and Ibn Arabi (1165 - 1240) and other examples were absolute revelations. People of different faiths and cultures were concerned about similar plots.

Undoubtedly, the main hero is the city of Istanbul itself, the capital of four empires, a city of great history, and this is not only the streets, but also the extensive network of underground communications with its secret life, and the views of the Bosphorus and the narrow streets that open from the highest minarets. There are many themes, one of them is Sufi philosophy, in particular, the story of the Mevlevi. Another theme is the search or expectation of the savior-Mahdi, which can be considered a literary allusion to Dostoevsky's "The Brothers Karamazov". But, obviously, the main theme, the main search in the novel is the search for self-identity and the answer to the question of what it means to "remain oneself". In the chapter about the Eye, Jaleel comes to the conclusion that his gaze was the gaze of that very Eye, and therefore, he himself became that Eye and observed himself from the side. This Eye - like a conscience, prompted to be better, more honest, to search for a moral ideal. The inserted novel about the heir prince, who first decided to read all the books, then burned them, trying to become free from the influence of others, borrowings, opinions, leads to the opinion that then there will be silence. The heir believed that he becomes himself only when he dictates to the writer. And if for Ibsen being oneself meant "renouncing oneself", for Pamuk it means "The only way for a person to become oneself is to become someone else, to get lost in the stories of others", which is close in meaning, but there are still nuances - renunciation of oneself through changing oneself by studying and accepting the opinions of others.

I hope that Orhan Pamuk really enjoyed writing The Black Book, because I definitely did not enjoy reading it.

It is ostensibly the story of Celal, a columnist for a major Turkish daily who has disappeared or ran away, told through the eyes of his friend and brother-in-law, Galip. When Galip’s pulp detective novel-loving wife (Celal’s sister) disappears as well, Galip turns into something of a detective himself, and the plot thickens. And then, it slows to a tedious crawl.

Whatever the story is here, it becomes something of an afterthought, taking a back seat to page after page of postmodern quasi-philosophical musings on the nature of identity. The plot pulls its head up out of the ground from time to time, introducing a few new twists and intrigues which, were they part of a tighter, more focused novel may actually have been interesting, perhaps even thrilling. But as it was they just ended up getting lost in the larger symphony of postmodern tangents whose meaning or purpose in this novel I almost certainly did not fully understand. Man, this was a tough slog of a read.

With all that being said, though, now that some time has elapsed since I read it last year, I can look back with the sugar-coated spectacles of hindsight and identify some things about it that I eventually came to appreciate. For example, the portraits of some of the quirky minor characters were quite vivid. They added a touch of color and charm to the otherwise complex and convoluted narrative.

The overall structure of the novel was also quite interesting. It was punctuated with the columns of the missing columnist, columns which were eventually ghost-written by Galip when he realized Celal would not return. This added an element of mystery and depth to the story.

I also enjoyed some of the descriptive atmospheric passages about Istanbul. Pamuk sort-of poetically depicts the various neighborhoods his protagonist travels through, from the seedy and worn to the posh and comfortable. These passages really brought the city to life and made me feel as if I was right there with Galip.

There are also some pretty memorable passages from Celal’s columns, including a little fantasia about what lies at the bottom of the Bosporus. This passage was one of the most memorable of the entire novel and really stuck with me long after I finished reading.

I read this book during a trip to Turkey, which included a few days in Istanbul. Something about being in the place where a novel is set does add something meaningful to the experience, even if it is an excruciating one at the time. It makes you see the city and its people in a whole new light and gives you a deeper understanding of the culture and history that lies behind the story.

DNF (Did Not Finish) at 30%. It has been months and it just takes up space on the list of what I'm currently reading.

It was nonsense. The sentences dragged on, sometimes an entire page to say something that could have been said in 4 words.

\\n  \\n    Nothing can be as unexpected as life. Nothing except writing.\\n  \\n

This statement holds some truth. Life is full of surprises and twists that we can never anticipate. However, writing can also have its own element of unpredictability. When we put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard, our thoughts and ideas can flow in unexpected ways, leading to something completely different from what we initially planned. Just like life, writing has the power to surprise us and take us on a journey we never expected.

I picked up this book at a library book sale. There were several reasons for my choice. Firstly, the picture of the Hagia Sophia on the cover immediately caught my eye. It was so captivating that it made me curious about what lay within the pages. Secondly, the blurbs such as "tantalizing," "splendid," and "delicious" added to the allure. They promised an engaging and wonderful read. Finally, the mention of the exotic Istanbul further piqued my interest. The copy I purchased was published before Pamuk won the Nobel Prize.

This is an intricate and beautifully written book. It is a detective story, yet not in the traditional sense. It is more like Calvino's "If On A Winter's Night a Traveller" which is also a unique take on the detective genre. Like that story, it is a profound reflection on writing and identity. However, it is set in the vibrant city of Istanbul, with hints of Rumi, Sufi mysteries, and the Arabian Nights. There are also many more mundane details that add to the authenticity of the setting. Galip, the protagonist, is on a dual search. He is looking for his missing wife, but also for himself. He seems to believe that he will find both with his wife's half-brother, a famous newspaper columnist. The journalist's articles form alternate chapters and delve deep into Istanbul, its rich history and countless stories, and the complex nature of identity in a Turkey that is inundated with Western images. The book is at times funny, annoying, and heart-breakingly sad. It requires considerable time and attention to read, as it demands that the reader be fully alert. It is not the kind of book one can read before going to bed. But its vivid imagery, captivating stories, and thought-provoking ideas will stay with me for a long time.

I am truly glad that I picked up this book at the library book sale. It has been a rewarding and enriching reading experience.

Orhan Pamuk, a renowned writer and university professor, was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2006.

"The Black Book" (Os Jardins da Memória in Portuguese), published in 1990 after the author's return to his hometown of Istanbul, presents a certain complexity. The linguistic structure is careful and eloquent, while the narrative structure is non-linear, requiring greater effort in comprehension and connection of actions. Sometimes, I felt lost in the text, having to reread and reflect on previous events and make the connection with the current ones. The links between the chapters are not explicit, and the reader must be careful to connect the chapters as there are characters who appear and disappear mysteriously, only to reappear in later chapters, and it is not very clear how or why. All of this made me take a long time to finish reading this book, and it also became a bit boring and tiresome due to the numerous and repeated descriptions.

The story:

After reading two-thirds of the book, I still had not understood the narrative and had no idea what the ending would be. After finishing the reading, it forced me to look at the chapters and rethink all the stories told, the interactions between the characters, the intellectually well-crafted messages, and in a way, I had to recreate my reading of the book, that is, the chronicle I make of the book, which will probably be similar to the view of another reader.

"The Black Book" takes us on a visit to the interior of the memories of a character, Galip, a lawyer who embarks on an incessant search to find his wife Ruya, who left home without a specific time to return. Intrigued by his wife's disappearance, he becomes even more intrigued when he learns that her brother has also disappeared. Determined to find them and ask for explanations, he enlists the help of friends, acquaintances, and colleagues (e.g., husbands, boyfriends, lovers) in an attempt to follow leads.

Djédâl, Ruya's brother, is a mysterious figure. He is a very famous international chronicler, highly dedicated to writing and working at the newspaper, with many fans who read his weekly writings.

Galip, searching for his wife and brother-in-law day and night without any leads, decides to move into Djédâl's house, read his chronicles and manuscripts. He also reads several letters from fans and other people who threaten him with death due to the content of the chronicles he publishes.

The chapters of the book are the chronicles written by Galip, who becomes a writer and replaces Djédâl at the newspaper. Galip tells us about his "Gardens of Memory" by writing his chronicles, which cover various topics such as society, politics, family, love, loss, human greed, cinema, journalism, etc.

Throughout the book, the narrator-author takes us on a tour of the city of Istanbul, visiting mosques, palaces, museums, urban areas, and making a broad reflection on the role of the individual and society: our emotions, our desires, our fears, our prejudices, our pride, our needs.

Finally, I transcribe the end of the book, which I find superb:

"Afterwards, a little before dawn, he thinks of Ruya, with pain, abandons his worktable, and contemplates Istanbul, which wakes up from the darkness. I think of Ruya, abandon my worktable, and contemplate the city immersed in darkness. We think of Ruya, and contemplate the city still immersed in darkness, and we are all invaded by emotion, by the sadness that took hold of me when, half asleep, I imagine rediscovering Ruya's trace on the quilt in the middle of the night, the blue and white squares. Because nothing can be as surprising as life. Except writing. Except writing, yes, of course, except writing, which is the only consolation." (p. 450)

This sentence represents a life whose meaning has been lost, and what remains are the fragments of memory. The despair of a man due to the suffering of losing his companion, a love that remains alive within him, despite knowing that she will never return. In essence, the main message of the book is this: love and loss.