In my opinion, "Beyaz Kale" was a "flawless" reading experience in a single word. My admiration for Orhan Pamuk increased even more. His courage, ability, and success in creating a fictional story by jumping through time within such profound historical details, and finally the transformation that took place, and even the fact that the ending didn't have to be very important in my opinion, but rather the way it made me feel the inner tension and the process of resolving it throughout the story, and and and the most enjoyable part for me was the "lived feeling", which was incredible!

After saying this, let's move on to the content.

"Beyaz Kale" is a novel that can be read in many different ways. The first thing that comes to mind is that it contains the information we know and can find when researching about the Ottoman period, so it can be considered a "historical novel". Orhan Pamuk has written a long note at the end of the novel, saying "Beyaz Kale is not a historical novel!". It is more accurate to say that "Beyaz Kale" is a novel that is located within history, full of details, and innovative as a story.

The heroes of our novel are a Venetian merchant who was captured by the Ottomans and Hoca, who physically resembles him a lot but is completely opposite in character. The events develop and the Venetian merchant is sold as a slave to Hoca. There is a plague epidemic in the country. While the two of them try to conduct scientific research to defeat the plague, what they are actually trying to find is "who a person really is". We witness them getting so close to each other that they sometimes merge into each other, and sometimes becoming so alienated from each other that they want to kill each other in the midst of all this historical chaos. Moving away and getting closer, resembling and not resembling become equal, and all the opposites dance in our minds. The entire novel tells the psychological war that takes place between these two, and in the background, there is also the Ottoman Empire during the reign of Mehmed IV in the second half of the 1600s and the real physical dimensions of the war.

Finally, I hope that Orhan Pamuk will present the reader with a novel that gives this taste and feeling and is satisfying in every way in the shortest possible time.

10/10

I recommend it with my eyes closed!

At the end of the book, the epilogue written by O. Pamuk was both sincere and satisfying.

If I hadn't read the epilogue, some things would have remained unresolved within me. I always have extra expectations when reading Pamuk (perhaps because of the awards he has received). I can say that although my expectations were not met, I still enjoyed it.

The epilogue provided a certain closure to the story, tying up some loose ends and giving the reader a sense of completion. It was a thoughtful addition that added depth to the overall work.

Even though Pamuk didn't fully meet my initial expectations, his writing style and the ideas he presented in the book were still engaging and thought-provoking. I appreciate his ability to create complex characters and vivid settings that draw the reader in.

In conclusion, while the book may not have been everything I hoped for, it was still a worthwhile read, and the epilogue was a nice touch that enhanced the overall experience.

Orhan Pamuk is my third step in reading. "Snow" is a dense and digestible novel despite being short. Some stories start again as soon as they end, and when you already know the whole thing, you want to read/watch it with that awareness. I felt exactly like that when I finished "Snow".

Actually, it is possible to understand where the story, which centers around the identity issue - why am I me? - is going at the beginning. You gradually realize that it is moving towards the inevitable end, but the ending is written so beautifully that it still affects you. Besides many criticisms, the confusion of "who wrote this text" that the author also mentioned in the epilogue of the book was not much for me, and frankly, I don't think it is a very important question. But I also wonder if I didn't notice the clues given on this subject throughout the book. One criticism would be that the tempo slows down a bit in the middle of the book. I felt a bit like I was reading the same things over and over again. It didn't last long, but since "Snow" is a short book anyway, it would have been better if it hadn't happened at all.

Pamuk has made extensive use of references and quotes while writing and has referred to many of them in the text. I also really liked these intertextual elements. I think literature is a world separate from the real world, and I want it to be that way, and I welcome everything that strengthens the feeling of being a separate but whole world within itself. Therefore, the author's historical twists in the necessary places are another thing I liked. Authors who sacrifice the charm of the plot and the story for the sake of conforming to historical facts bother me. For example, "The White Castle" was an average novel for me because of this. History does not come before the story, at least not in a fictional work. Orhan Pamuk, of course, knows this much better than I do.

However, the thing that impressed me the most in "Snow" was Orhan Pamuk's amazing epilogue, in which he explained how the story came about, how it was structured, which works he used while writing, and some of his choices and thoughts in the story. This epilogue is also a part of the narrative, and in my opinion, the most valuable part. Faruk Darvınoğlu's introduction, the story itself, and Orhan Pamuk's epilogue all together form a very multi-layered novel in "Snow", where the author, the characters, and even history merge with each other. Some authors do this by talking to the reader in the middle of the novel, while Pamuk has followed a different but equally effective path.

Although it is not as enchanting as "Silent House", Orhan Pamuk still gave me a wonderful novel to read. Next on my list is "The Black Book", the work that I am most curious about, most talked about, and most praised.

I didn't enjoy it much, but in my opinion, "My Name Is Red" was better because, unlike this one, I was able to finish it. (The smaller size of the book and the fewer descriptions really helped in this regard.) I struggled a bit and actually wanted to understand something from it, and sometimes I got close to receiving this understanding, but I felt that this understanding was my own addition and not the author's goal at all. As a result, I was unable to understand the author's goal in some way. It was the first book that had no spelling, translation, or typing errors!

Anyway, I couldn't get close to any of the characters and understand them.

This book had its own charm, but it just didn't click with me. Maybe it was because of my own expectations or because I wasn't in the right mindset. Nevertheless, I still appreciate the effort that went into writing it.

I think that sometimes we need to step out of our comfort zones and try new things, even if they don't turn out the way we expect. Maybe the next book I read will be a completely different experience.

The plot of The White Castle appears to be rather straightforward. In the seventeenth century, a Venetian individual is abducted by Turkish raiders and then sold into slavery to a Turkish scholar who, curiously enough, bears a striking resemblance to him. The two men commence studying biology, astronomy, and engineering together. They even attempt to fabricate a potent weapon for the Sultan. Significantly, the Sultan seems to be more intrigued by legends and soothsaying rather than modern inventions and advancements. The novel concludes by posing a query to both the protagonist and the reader regarding the identity of the two main characters. Were they truly two distinct individuals, or was it a single person with two divergent aspects of one personality?

Whether the ending is regarded as a cheap gimmick, a Tarantino-esque twist, or witty meta-language, it does not alter my perspective on this novel. Although it is clever, the novel is overly artificial and is more preoccupied with themes and ideas rather than people and emotions. For instance, Pamuk informs readers about the conflicts between the protagonists and the disparities between the cultures rather than demonstrating them to us. Unlike the uproarious and recognizable culture clashes in Marjan Kamalia’s Together Tea, the scenes concerning colliding cultures in The White Castle are extremely dull. Similarly, the issue of (cultural) identity is presented astutely, but it is not as moving as in the aforementioned novel.

Admittedly, the scenes about cultural identity are not intended to be sentimental. Instead, they are an exploration of what it means to be a modern Turk, a legacy of Kemal Ataturk, who was the only leader in the history of Muslim nations to successfully separate the state and religion. Pamuk seems to suggest that modern Turks possess a dual personality, composed of a Western side (represented by the Italian slave and the desire of his Turkish slave-owner to learn about modern advances) and an Eastern side (represented by the Turkishness of the actual Turk as well as the Sultan’s inclination towards tradition and superstition). While it is undoubtedly written skillfully to mislead readers and thereby compel them to question the concept of identity, I prefer a more human (and humane) approach to the duality of the Turkish nation as depicted in Elif Shafak’s The Bastard of Istanbul.

Actually, 3.5 points is not a bad score. It shows that there is still room for improvement, but also indicates that there has been some achievement.

For example, in an exam, getting 3.5 points might mean that you answered most of the questions correctly, but there were a few areas where you could have done better.

It could also mean that in a project or task, you completed it to a certain standard, but there were some details that needed to be refined.

However, it's important to remember that 3.5 points is just a number. It doesn't define your entire ability or worth.

You can use this score as a motivation to work harder and improve. Analyze your mistakes, learn from them, and set goals for yourself to achieve a higher score in the future.

With determination and effort, you can turn that 3.5 point into a 4 or even a 5. So don't be too discouraged by a 3.5 point. Instead, use it as a stepping stone to success.

Are we truly so distinct from one another?

Why is it that I am not the glorious white castle that majestically perches on top of the hill, but instead a rusty, creaking, and senseless monstrosity, constructed in the vain hope of "proving things to them"? I am stuck in the mud, slowly sinking to my doom, with hapless, accidental participants trapped within.

Why can't I be you? If only I knew who you are, where you hail from, and what thoughts crossed your mind while having lunch with your family on a leisurely summer day during your youth.

Are there really hidden treasures to be discovered within oneself? Are these inner findings more genuine than those found in the external world? Does the act of delving deep into oneself in search of these things ever bring happiness to that person?

The White Castle, or Beyaz Kale as it was initially printed in Turkish, is a remarkable book that delves deeply into the concept of personal identity.

The narrator poses the thought-provoking question: "Of what importance is it who a man is? The important thing is what we have done and will do." This Kafka-esque statement succinctly encapsulates the essence of the two main characters, the Hoja (teacher) and his Italian slave.

Throughout their time together, the slave and the master are embroiled in a struggle over their identities. Both are aware of the similarities in appearance, desire, and intellect, yet they cannot come to terms with the character flaws they perceive in each other. They are like physical windows into each other's souls, with each man delving deeper and deeper in search of answers, only to become more despondent when they encounter things they dislike.

The fact that they are master and slave means that they can never bridge this gap and become friends, nor can they truly understand and appreciate each other, as society's rules dictate otherwise. And just as the slave is bound to the master, the Hoja is tied to his need to please the Ottoman Sultan and win his favor.

This is a story of grandiose schemes, the incessant desires of the mind and the flesh, and the battle for acceptance, all set against the magnificent backdrop of Ottoman Istanbul, the gentle lapping of the Bosphorus on the shoreline, and the beating of the Janissary drums.

4 stars

What an utterly captivating and intellectually stimulating read!

The White Castle transports us to a semi-historical, semi-mythical 17th-century Istanbul. The story begins with the unnamed narrator recounting how he ended up in this exotic city. As a young man, his ship was seized by a Turkish fleet. While imprisoned, he encounters a man who is his spitting image - his doppelgänger - known as Hoja or ‘master’. Later, Hoja purchases him as a slave and contemptuously demands that the narrator teach him everything he knows. The narrator has no option but to comply, yet he keeps his true thoughts and opinions to himself, never revealing his genuine assessment of Hoja's learning progress or ideas.

However, when a plague ravages the city (an ironic parallel to our current pandemic), their relationship undergoes a transformation. During the self-isolation period, with nothing else to do, the narrator and Hoja engage in intense, hate-filled, and even violent conversations. Paradoxically, these exchanges enable them to understand each other and themselves more deeply than ever before.

I have never come across a relationship dynamic quite like that of the narrator and Hoja. I was particularly intrigued by the complex mind games they played. Despite the unequal power balance of master and slave, this isn't the only factor determining their influence over each other. The narrator, although a slave, is more educated and hails from a country that Hoja respects. Meanwhile, Hoja saved the narrator's life and exercises his rights as a master. The narrator looks down on Hoja, while Hoja resents this and craves the narrator's approval. At times, the narrator grudgingly admires Hoja's intellect, realizing that he may have surpassed his own knowledge. Throughout most of the story, they circle each other, hiding any positive feelings and deriving a twisted pleasure from hurting one another.

Eventually, they manage to open up, with the narrator doing so more than Hoja due to the power imbalance. This occurs as a result of a game where they each write their life stories in response to the question, “Why am I what I am?” Through this, the book poses thought-provoking questions about identity and self-reflection. Given their physical resemblance, could they also be psychologically alike? Can they, in fact, be the same person? How challenging is it to assume another's identity? How much of our selves is unique, and how much is a reflection of others?

Beyond being a profound exploration of the individual psyche, The White Castle also serves as an allegory for the tumultuous, love-hate relationship between Turkey and the West. While I can't elaborate further due to my limited knowledge of Turkey, I believe this theme emerged organically from the relationship between the narrator and Hoja.

Overall, this was an outstanding read. I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys historical fiction, especially those with a touch of the mythical, and anyone who relishes in-depth psychological portrayals of unlikable characters. 4 out of 5 stars.

\\n  Come to my blog!\\n

An Italian and a Turk... look very similar!?? Are looking at each other?? What is it that makes me, me?? Appearance? Experiences?? Intellect??? Reading a boring book????

I had great expectations but this was DAMN BORING!

Maybe it's because they have some common physical features that make them seem alike. Or perhaps their expressions and postures are somewhat similar at this moment. But when it comes to what truly defines a person, it's a complex combination of many factors. Appearance can play a role, but it's not the sole determinant. Experiences shape our perspectives and personalities. Intellect also contributes to who we are. And reading, even a boring book, can still have an impact on our minds.

Despite my initial high hopes, this situation has turned out to be disappointingly dull. It makes me wonder if there's more to discover or if this is just how it is for now.

Night-time read.

One really should be more cautious about what one arranges on the bedside table. This particular book might have been a more engaging read if I had positioned it on the morning chair instead. Maybe then I would have derived more enjoyment and understanding from it. As it stands, the story presents a master who is unfortunately paranoid schizophrenic and has a mirror image resemblance to the Italian he saves from the drink.

Meh *does the flat-hand rock*.

However, it manages to earn an extra star solely due to that incredibly cool, cool cover. The cover truly catches the eye and adds an element of allure to the otherwise somewhat ordinary narrative. It makes one wonder if there is more depth and mystery hidden within the pages that perhaps wasn't fully grasped during this initial night-time reading.

This book commences with a foreword penned by a (fictitious) discoverer who unearthed the story within an archive. This individual bestows upon the book its 'dedication to-'. I have a certain penchant for books that initiate in such a manner. Anyhow, the narrative appears to be a blend of fact and fiction, revolving around 1600s Istanbul, where two men with similar appearances forge a peculiar friendship.

The author is one of the two, remaining unnamed throughout. An Italian who was seized and sold into slavery by pirates, ultimately becoming the property of Hoca (a title, with no real name provided for him either), an 'intolerable genius' with a constantly fluctuating temper and an inflated opinion of himself. The writer, on the other hand, is more of an opposite: an observer, calm-tempered, and a worrier.

A bond develops initially as they learn from each other, not only in terms of knowledge but also about their lives, although Hoca guards the details of the latter more closely. By assisting one another, they ultimately capture the attention and trust of the young sultan (we follow the story from the sultan's late childhood through to his youth and manhood), through stories, interesting books, astute future-guessing, and finally by promising a great weapon for battle.

However, things do not unfold as planned. The weapon fails them as they, along with the sultan and his army, approach the eponymous Doppio castle, and choices must be made: who takes the path back to Italy, and who remains?

There are numerous aspects to contemplate within this story, many elements to dissect. Like the writer, we can wonder about the reasons behind Hoca's nature, why he necessitates the division between himself and 'them', why he fears vulnerability, and the cause of his temper. There is also the question of identity: the two main characters are alike, and the sharing of information blurs the line between them. In the end, I sense that the one who stayed - the writer - internalized a part of Hoca's identity, and it is both heartwarming and heartbreaking to witness how much he misses Hoca, even as rumors and a particular visit may bring some elements of truth among the fabricated. In a way, it seems as if the sultan acquires some of his mind-game skills from Hoca, as he later causes the one who stayed to realize that he must abandon his court job before another cleansing phase emerges.

The book has a plot, yet I feel it is more of a contemplative piece on identity, belonging, and the question of 'what is genius?' It is difficult to precisely define. Nevertheless, I feel it is a book that I desire to reread, and I believe it was a good choice to commence reading the author from this work; it is well worth it.