While reading Orhan Pamuk's breakthrough novel, one can easily find oneself feeling as lost as the central character. He is a lawyer who discovers that the central mystery is not just about the whereabouts of his missing wife in enigmatic Istanbul, but rather about the very essence of identity itself. His own identity, that of a newspaper columnist prone to revolutionary tales and historical asides, as well as that of a mysterious caller, and indeed, the identity of Istanbul itself and its relation to the culture and identity of the West, are all called into question.

The writing style is not overly dense. In fact, the translation alternates between being poetically sinuous and rigidly straightforward. Every other chapter replicates a newspaper column written by a friend of Galip's, who is also the brother of his wife and becomes integral to the question of identity in the story. These columns cover a wide range of subject matter, from historical local legends of gangsters and their exploits to deeply introspective examinations of the mystery of life itself.

These column chapters serve to break up the tedium of the first half of the central narrative, which plods along ponderously as it follows Galip in his search for his wife. It is only in the second half that the reader begins to look forward eagerly to the narrative chapters, perhaps even wishing that the column chapters would end a little sooner.

Although I adore Pamuk, with this one, no matter how much I insisted, it didn't work out, and I didn't connect.
It's no use, it's for another life.
I have always had a deep admiration for Pamuk's works. His writing style is so unique and captivating. Every time I pick up one of his books, I am immediately drawn into the vivid worlds he creates.
However, in this particular case, despite my best efforts and insistence, things just didn't go as I hoped. Maybe it was just not meant to be.
But I'm not one to give up easily. I still believe that there will be other opportunities in the future, perhaps in another life, to truly establish that connection with Pamuk's work and fully appreciate its beauty and depth.

Kara kitap üstüne zaten tonlarca makale ve kitap yazılmış, okur yorumunda mânâ aramaya gerek yoktur diye düşünerek ürkek bir not:

Orhan Pamuk romanlarında sıklıkla kendinden önceki hikâyeleri, başkalarının anlattıklarını kıvıra kıvıra tekrar etme, kendi hikâyesindeki kahramaları ve anlatıcıları birbirine karıştırma yollarına gidiyor. Ben de Pamuk'un romanlarını neden böylesine çok sevdiğimi düşünürken iki temel sebep buluyorum. Bir yanda sonsuzca çağlayan bir küçük-orta-büyük ölçekli hikâye üreticisi olması ve öte yandaysa yazarken arka planda sürekli yazma ve genel olarak bir şeyler anlatma üzerine düşünmesi, bu hikâye anlatıcılığının hâlet-i ruhiyesine dair çeşitlemeler yapması.

Ben bilmiyorum romanın ya da anlatının tarihsel gelişimini, bugün geldiği noktayı fakat Pamuk'u her okuduğumda birikmiş tüm bu külliyatın üzerine böyle romanlar yazmak çok akıllıca diye hissediyorum. Hem anlatan hem tartışan bir yazın, kendi kendinin escher'ci eleştirisi ve okuması.

Expanded version:

Kara kitap üstüne zaten tonlarca makale ve kitap yazılmış. Okur yorumunda mânâ aramaya gerek yoktur diye düşünerek ürkek bir not yazıyorum.

Orhan Pamuk romanlarında sıklıkla kendinden önceki hikâyeleri, başkalarının anlattıklarını kıvıra kıvıra tekrar ediyor. Ayrıca, kendi hikâyesindeki kahramaları ve anlatıcıları birbirine karıştırıyor. Ben de Pamuk'un romanlarını neden böylesine çok sevdiğimi düşünürken iki temel sebep buluyorum. Bir yanda, sonsuzca çağlayan bir küçük-orta-büyük ölçekli hikâye üreticisi olmasıdır. Öte yandaysa, yazarken arka planda sürekli yazma ve genel olarak bir şeyler anlatma üzerine düşünmesi, bu hikâye anlatıcılığının hâlet-i ruhiyesine dair çeşitlemeler yapmasıdır.

Ben bilmiyorum romanın ya da anlatının tarihsel gelişimini, bugün geldiği noktayı. Fakat Pamuk'u her okuduğumda birikmiş tüm bu külliyatın üzerine böyle romanlar yazmak çok akıllıca gibi hissediyorum. Hem anlatan hem tartışan bir yazın, kendi kendinin escher'ci eleştirisi ve okumasıdır.

Muhteşem!!

When making a description related to reading a book, one doesn't even know what to say, and it feels as if no matter what is said, it will be insufficient. When I finished reading the black book and closed it, I fully experienced the joy of being able to repeat this description in my mind. I think that even if I immerse myself in conflicting thoughts related to reading for another 20 years, I won't be able to think about this enough. While reading the book, I was so overcome by intense emotions that experiencing this pleasure through reading is so free, and the awareness is so low, and on top of that, approaching Orhan Pamuk's pen with such servile and rotten thoughts again started to ring the questions of what is a human and what is not in my mind.

Dear reader-authors, there is something called the right to read, and unfortunately, I realized this during the process of reading this book. Some authors, some books are not open to comment, disliking, or criticism. I wrote this discriminatory saying especially for myself so that I would also know in the long run.

Regards.

My reading experience with Pamuk has been a rollercoaster ride, filled with both highs and lows.

Sadly, this particular encounter was one of the lows. The amount of effort I put into reading this work seemed disproportionate to the reward I received.

There were times when I found myself getting lost in the complex narrative and convoluted characters. The story didn't flow as smoothly as I had hoped, and I often had to re-read passages to make sense of what was happening.

Despite these drawbacks, I still appreciate Pamuk's writing style and his ability to create vivid and detailed worlds. However, this particular work just didn't click with me. Maybe it was the subject matter, or perhaps it was my own state of mind at the time.

In any case, I'm not giving up on Pamuk. I'm sure there are other works of his that will resonate with me more deeply and provide the kind of reading experience that I'm looking for.

Dnf at page 150.

Pamuk's Black Book is truly a behemoth of a literary work. It is both frustrating and captivating, constantly enticing the reader to turn the pages in search of intellectual nourishment. The book has a slender framework of a detective novel, which serves as a vehicle for exploring profound metaphysical concepts about identity. In most chapters, the tale is so engrossing that you don't even notice the supposed mystery at the center disappearing!

Galip, a lawyer, returns home one evening to find his wife Ruya missing. He embarks on a search through the streets of Istanbul and in the columns of his cousin Celal, who also seems to have vanished. The nature of the mystery keeps evolving, alternating between Galip's investigation and Celal's columns, until it becomes a philosophical exploration. The concept of identity is explored through novel literary devices that are almost hypnotic.

Pamuk delves into various themes, such as mannequins that imitate Western culture, the self that judges us against the person we aspire to be, the impact of movies through a brothel filled with movie star lookalikes, the blurring of the lines between dreams and reality, and the influence of books. He even teases the reader with these influences, plagiarizing the Grand Inquisitor, repeating Rumi's tales, and reenacting a scene from a Turkish classic romance in a tavern. However, the chapters on Hurufism were somewhat revealing but also a bit dull.

The book loses the reader (at least for me) in its exploration of Turkish political history, writings on the face, the city of Istanbul, routes through the city, and tales whose significance is not entirely clear. The mind keeps returning to the missing Ruya, who is only revealed through hidden references in the columns. This is a very clever book, perhaps too clever for its own good.

Towards the end, the author almost conspiratorially reveals his task: ".. the task I have set myself - which is not to invent new stories but to set down the tales we have been telling ourselves for centuries". Reading the translator's note, one realizes that in the original Turkish, it must have been even more magical. The book made me happy when it ended, but I would recommend it more as a challenge than to a casual friend. (Special Thanks to my BR partner!)

This is truly a massive achievement. However, it can be quite exhausting to read as the author bombards us with stories, characters, and similes at an extremely rapid rate.

What makes it so special is the way he operates on multiple levels. He vividly brings home the essence of what it means to be Turkish, showcases how Istanbul is the frontier of cultures, and reveals the rich history that lies within. But on another, more modernist level, he poses profound questions about what it means to be an author, the relationship between the reader and the writer, and ultimately, what defines our very identity.

The only criticism I have is that I felt it could have been a bit shorter. My copy consists of 460 pages, and quite frankly, I believe he has effectively communicated everything within the first 350 pages.

Selamlar.

I had picked up the "Black Book" in 1999 and tried to read it, but after 30-40 pages, I struggled and gave up. (Back then, I was a bit of a reluctant reader. Greetings to Fuat Hoca : ) This time, however, I read each sentence with admiration, going back and reading them over and over again, and finished it in about a week. I read it slowly and carefully, without rushing, in order to research, re-read some parts, fully understand and digest it.

As I witnessed Galip, who was abandoned by his wife Rüya, in his search for Rüya, on one hand, I got lost in Celal's corner writings, and on the other hand, I read it like a detective novel, looking for a clue in the persistent phone conversations. At the same time, I wandered between history, science, philosophy, and Sufism. I spent two nights completely engrossed in the "Black Book" without sleeping at all. I researched calligraphy and looked for the letters on my face in the mirror. The "Black Book" is a complete novel of individuation and self-discovery. On the one hand, it shows us that literature and even the entire history of thought consists of repetition, and supports the claim that "there is no original text" in a simple but powerful way with the example of the watch. I really liked the depth of thought and the way of narration more than the story itself. Although there were many different stories in each section, the focus was always there. It was nice to remember the character of Celal Salik from the Museum of Innocence as well. I once again admired Orhan Pamuk's intelligence and observational skills. He is truly a great writer.

Finally, I'm glad I read this book that opened up a whole new world for me. I hope I can read such a great book again.

I both loved it a lot and got very tired of it. I sometimes said I would give up halfway and sometimes said it was the pinnacle of literature. After a long and tiring reading, the Black Book finally ended. Moreover, this work was also the tenth book I read by Orhan Pamuk. In the work, Galip is looking for his missing wife Rüya, and in this process, the writings and experiences of the missing corner writer Celal are guiding the protagonist Galip. Although the subject matter seems so simple, the use of postmodern techniques in the book has changed the atmosphere of the book in a strange way.

As the plot unfolds (this is a figure of speech I made up), we also delve into different stories that often nourish the whole. Sometimes it talks about Mevlana, sometimes about the Ottoman sultans, sometimes about politics, and sometimes about a person who cannot be himself. For me, it was definitely the hardest book I read by Orhan Pamuk. The author himself also pointed out that it was an infinitely different book and the great effort he put in to solve those problems rather than formal problems. The sentences were quite long and it might ask you to take breaks frequently while reading. That's also what happened to me to some extent. Like many books, the Black Book carries real traces far beyond Orhan Pamuk's life. All the important issues such as the political atmosphere after 80 blows, the reflections of the loneliness he was drawn to write the book, and the fact that the Turkish people cannot be themselves in a changing world are all told at once.

Most of the sentences that many readers describe as complex actually contain very deep meanings in my opinion, carrying deep traces from the story and the characters. It is a novel that must be read heavily and digested, and in this way, I am sure that it will take a place in my mind for many long years. Orhan Pamuk's sentences, no matter what they do or don't do, always succeed in reminding me of the beautiful or, on the contrary, the difficult days of my life. When I read this novel for the first time after a long time, I didn't feel alone. It took away from me the feeling that I couldn't achieve, that I couldn't leave alone no matter what. Thank you, Mr. Orhan :)

This novel by Orhan Pamuk is truly a masterpiece. The way he constructs his sentences is both intricate and captivating. Each sentence seems to be carefully crafted to convey a specific emotion or idea. As I read through the pages, I find myself completely immersed in the story, experiencing the joys and sorrows of the characters as if they were my own.

The depth of meaning in his writing is what makes it so special. It's not just a simple story, but a profound exploration of the human condition. The characters are well-developed and multi-dimensional, and their actions and decisions have a significant impact on the overall narrative.

I highly recommend this novel to anyone who loves literature and wants to experience a truly unforgettable reading experience. It will stay with you long after you've turned the last page and will continue to inspire and move you for years to come.

If I were a novelist, the novel I would like to write would be like this.

It would be a story filled with passion, mystery, and adventure. Set in a far-off land, it would follow the journey of a young protagonist who discovers a hidden world full of magic and wonder.

Along the way, the protagonist would encounter a cast of colorful characters, each with their own unique personalities and motives. There would be love interests, betrayals, and unexpected twists and turns that would keep the reader on the edge of their seat.

The novel would explore themes such as love, loss, and the power of the human spirit. It would be a story that would touch the hearts of readers and leave them with a sense of hope and inspiration.

In short, if I were a novelist, this is the kind of novel I would strive to create.

Read many years ago, this is one of the top three books by Pamuk which I love the most. The other two being My Name Is Red and Snow - obvious choices. Pamuk has this unique ability to bring the complex and diverse history and culture of Turkey to life on the pages of his books. No one makes old and modern Turkey come alive on page like he does. His vivid descriptions, rich characters, and engaging storylines transport the reader to a different time and place. It's as if you can see the bustling streets of Istanbul, feel the cold snow in Kars, and experience the political and social turmoil of Turkey's past and present. A re-read is on the horizon, and I can't wait to immerse myself in Pamuk's world once again.