Red is the color of the pen that I left unfinished with my students last academic year and it is still the same with the beginning of this academic year; because it is war.

Red is the color of the blood that has not left us throughout this war.

Red is the most used color in the profession of dispute and also the color of blood in the novel of the crime of murder, the murder that God has prohibited except with justice, and unfortunately each side has legislated the murder with the justice that it sees, and that is exactly what the murderer saw as right in killing his comrades in dispute in the name of God and criminalizing every beautiful thing; yes, that is what has happened for a long time and is still happening until this moment.....

His name is Orhan and his brother is Şükrü, his mother's apple of the eye, always loved; the correspondence was hidden; Khairiya, her servant; his uncle's husband, Abu; Zülfikar, out of concern, Zeyno, the butterfly of the disputants, the characters of the novel are they and with them the 59th chapter of the narrative was named.

They are not just these characters of the novel; there are also the elements of the last painting of the sultan '' dog, horse, devil, money, woman, tree ''.

I had met Orhan in Amuq in the previous two works '' Snow and The New Life '', but here the meeting was different for several reasons.

First, it was devoid of the annoying Turkish series; because with all my readings of the previous two works, I felt as if I was watching a Turkish series. Here the narration was beautifully and differently, especially those inner voices of the characters of the novel; those dialogues for example, I am a dog; and I am dead...

Here there is no unity of B and J; there is only that I enjoyed the novel; although there was a little boredom during my reading; I could not understand the real reason perhaps because of the length of the narration and the details in the history of the profession of dispute, and my acquaintance with the details of this profession was from here, from my name Red.

I had heard a great deal of praise for My Name is Red by the Turkish author Orhan Pamuk. The book had been on my To Be Read (TBR) list for a long time before I finally had the opportunity to read it.

The story is set in the late sixteenth century in Istanbul, the capital of the powerful Ottoman Empire. The Sultan of Turkey has secretly commissioned a book, and one of the miniaturists working on the project is murdered. And of course, it won't be the only murder!

The main character of this novel is Black. He had to leave a miniaturist workshop and Istanbul because he had the courage to profess his love for his uncle's daughter, Shekure. Now, Black has finally returned and still loves Shekure, who is now a mother of two and whose husband went missing in a war.

There are rumors that the miniaturists, working under the supervision of Black's uncle, had been imitating the styles of the "infidel" Franks in the secret book, thus committing blasphemy.

The book features some elegant writing, and the author has done an excellent job of developing the complex characters. The narrative is also filled with parables through which the characters clarify and reinforce their beliefs about art and religious morality. The author skillfully portrays the various emotions and feelings of humans - love, lust, fear, envy, bigotry, and greed.

While reading this book, I couldn't help but compare it with The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco. Coincidentally, I had bought these two books on the same day. Since I had recently read Eco's book, it was still fresh in my mind, and I could see both the similarities and differences. I later found that many readers have compared the two books.

Both books are historical fictions with multiple murders, although they are set in different countries and cultures. The Name of the Rose is centered around Christian beliefs, while My Name is Red focuses on the Islamic view of art. The former has long discussions about religious beliefs in general, while the latter delves deeply into religious morality and its impact on art, particularly illustration and painting.

The murders in both novels revolve around books because some individuals consider the content to be blasphemous.

The Name of the Rose is narrated by a single person, while My Name is Red has multiple points of view, and even the living and the dead get to tell their stories.

The story in Eco's book mostly revolves around monks, but Pamuk's novel gives a voice to people from different sections of society. There is a sense of suffocation in The Name of the Rose (due to the strict atmosphere of an abbey), but in My Name is Red, although there is fear, the feeling of suffocation is less intense - perhaps because it is set in the outside world where people talk about art and love.

This book was a novel experience for me as it was my first book about Turkey. I learned a little about a new culture - their history, beliefs, mythology, and way of life.

I enjoyed reading the book, but at times the narrative dragged on - I got bored with the love triangle involving Black, Shekure, and Hasan, Shekure's brother-in-law. The long discussions on the morality and integrity of Ottoman art, although well-written, became tiresome.

If you're looking for a fast-paced, crisp thriller, this book isn't for you. However, if you don't mind a historical fiction with many pages dedicated to art and beliefs, you can give it a try.

I'm giving this book a rating of 3.5! I deducted 0.5 because the narrative dragged at times.

I can't believe I've been waiting on this shelf for so long this year, especially since I love historical books.

This novel, despite the events it contains, is a very exciting novel with its narrative style and setting that makes everything come alive and speak. We see that in addition to the individual heroes, there are other heroes whose stories are unpredictable, such as the dog, the money, and the woman. Also, with a clever wink, the author gives the impression that what he wrote is absolute truth, even though he was not a witness to the events except once. I think that Orhan Pamuk borrowed his method from the narrative style of Mario Benedetti, making each person tell their own story from the perspective of their own experience, presenting us with unique and complete stories within a narrative framework.

The dominant theme in the text is the attempt to revive Islamic art in the miniatures and explain its importance over time and how its owner is proud of it despite the existence of many opponents who do not consider it a worthy art form, such as extremist religious groups and other groups that place other arts in a higher position.

Despite the fact that the dispute exhausts his spirit, body, and eyesight, in the end, he is not ashamed of it, but rather proud that he has achieved self-blindness or deliberate blindness, a sign of his sincerity in spreading beauty. But it also shows his spiritual poverty and the fake enmities and rivalries between the disputants themselves and how they ride on each other's shoulders to reach the top.

Orhan Pamuk did not make his novel take on a formal and tedious tone in presenting historical information, but rather introduced an element of excitement, which is the element of crime. Although I did not feel that it was a strong side, as the usual practice when such an element is present is to provide a space for the reader to get to know the criminal, which Orhan Pamuk did not take into account. Also, I missed a part of the text in the novel that I accompanied during this review, titled "A European Painting."

In the novel, there is a wealth of beautiful information about art that the ordinary person can only be happy to know and be grateful for. Because someone has taken the trouble to present this beauty to us on a red-titled page. This is the first work that started my journey with Orhan Pamuk and it will not be the last.

"I am a European painting," as you can clearly see, my name predicts my identity. I accompanied you for five hundred pages, but your Orhan, with his excessive love for Islamic art, made you hate me. Fortunately, one of the readers insisted on making me speak when he saw my importance in the great injustice I had suffered.

I know that you did not sympathize with me despite my obvious beauty, and also from the beginning, I do not want you to take my words as if I hate Islamic art. Because we, the arts, respect each other and value the nature of Islamic art. It is a very noble art and deserves to have an absolute position of respect. On the contrary, I am not claiming that I am not beautiful in appearance, but there is no real meaning for me if you return to the place where I was painted, you will not find my clear traces as it is with the art of the miniaturists, which dates back to a time and event that will never disappear from memory. Therefore, you see me as the European painting, the daughter of my time, which was painted only in it, while the art of the miniatures is the daughter of absolute time that extends to infinity.

Well, I want to complain about those who completely rejected me on the pretext that I can be worshipped in some way when I am stuck on a wall or seen in a book. God forbid that this is true. The one who says this must be a deluded person. For the people who see me, their minds weigh what can be worshipped and what cannot. Just as the European painters, no matter how great their skill in painting me, out of pride, they must put their signature on me and the people know from whom the creator is. So, it is impossible to put a false signature on his works, but everything is indicated by Him, the Glorious and Exalted. Also, humans can never breathe life into anything. Therefore, I am the daughter of my time.

Let you see my astonishment when I was mixed with the first Islamic miniatures. I joined them after six months' separation, as I was told. We will be presented to the king according to the rumors and whispers spreading in the air. I was strange among them despite the existence of many similar features in us in name but not in form. I began to examine the leaves of the tree that were present and did not resemble the tree that completed me, the fine leaves, the horses with their curved legs, the colors firmly smeared on the chest of the red page, the abundance of details to weave a story from which everything becomes full of life and imagination.

I learned that Islamic miniature art is not one, but has its own teachings and teachers. There are the Ottomans, the Chinese, and others, and each miniaturist is proud of his own miniature and it is difficult for him to accept the miniature of others from a different school. But this rejection does not last if there is a forced transfer in a war. Usually, the miniaturist is a peaceful person who has nothing in this world but the forms that he patiently engraves in his memory as God wants them to be seen with the eye of perception.

Finally, I do not want to bore you with a long speech so that you do not consider me a heavy shadow. I want you to look for one of the descendants of these miniaturists and make him paint the story of this book in a magnificent miniature, and I promise you that I will make a European painter paint the faces of gratitude, anger, kindness, and others, and of course, we will not forget the identity mystery... God be with you until we meet again.

Five stars.

This story was the gateway to the world of Bámóc... The crime wasn't what attracted me to this story, but rather the author's style and the inner dialogues... Even the dogs talk in this story... Besides, it's amazing that when you read a story, you find yourself in a desert, seeing it with your own eyes, imagining all the details that this talented author was able to convey to you with high literacy and precision that rivals the precision of the painters of that era.

Bámóc is one of my favorite books, and I will always be excited about this author.

This story takes the reader on a captivating journey. The unique writing style draws you in and makes you feel as if you are part of the story. The inner dialogues add depth and complexity to the characters, making them more relatable. The fact that the dogs can talk is an interesting and creative touch that adds to the overall charm of the story.

The description of the desert is so vivid that you can almost feel the heat and see the vast expanse of sand. The author's attention to detail is truly remarkable, and it allows you to fully immerse yourself in the story. Overall, Bámóc is a must-read for anyone who loves literature and wants to experience a unique and unforgettable story.

Firstly, despite the promotional approach Faber has chosen for this book, it doesn't conform to the typical understanding of a murder mystery. So, if you're seeking a thriller filled with clues, unexpected twists, and turns, this is definitely not the one for you. Partly due to this, I believe the reviews comparing it to Eco's The Name of the Rose are misdirected. That book playfully explores the intertextual nature of all reading, which is not at all what Pamuk's book is about.

Instead, it is a profound and captivating meditation on the contrasting and sometimes conflicting views of eastern and western aesthetics of art, especially visual and religious art, or rather, the religiosity of art.

Yes, a murder sets the story in motion, and there's another one in the middle (extremely brutal and disturbing), but who committed the crimes is neither the point nor the driving force of this book. There's also a central love story, but it draws on Persian epics and constantly refers to them, thus both inviting and resisting comparisons with western love stories.

Some other reviewers on Amazon have complained that all the narrative voices sound the same, and that is indeed the case. However, I assume Pamuk isn't interested in writing a character-driven novel. Also, don't read it if you're expecting a lush historical novel full of exotic details, as that's not the kind of book it is.

In summary, this is an intellectually accomplished and brave novel that tackles difficult subjects. It's not a hard read, but it is a slow one that requires you to take your time and digest it, rather than a page-turner where you can't wait to discover what happens next. I think it's an important book, but it won't appeal to everyone's taste.

It's truly quite funny.

All of our opinions and impressions are, by nature, subjective. However, at the very least, we attempt to possess some small degree of objectivity. But there are very few books that are so intricately connected with our lives that even that objectivity goes right out the window.

Take, for example, "The Name of the Wind." It entered my life during a period of enormous change and it will forever be intertwined with one of the most crucial parts of my existence. Thus, it will always remain one of my absolute favorites.

Or consider Murakami's "1Q84," which marked my foray outside of my usual genres.

"My Name is Red" belongs to my sister's favorite books. As a result, my memories will always be linked to how she hyped about it. Her opinions and detailed discussions every dozen or so pages that I finished (we lived together at the time of my first read) made a lasting impression.

Heck, she will probably be excited when I tell her that I re-read this book the next time I see her. So, how would I like the book without these associations? Probably a great deal since I love Pamuk's work. But it's truly impossible to tell and, quite frankly, I don't really care. This book is far more than just a 5-star rating; it's an integral part of a core memory.

Be careful of believing in rumors, for there is no lie that is not presented to make a beautiful story and we believe it.

This novel brought me a strange relationship from the first moment! I always go to my safe and beloved haunt, my bookstore on the Corniche to borrow books. For about two weeks, because of the distinctive and famous cover of the novel and the red word "My Name" on it, with its green color and the red shadows surrounding it, I did not resist and I snatched it immediately. But when I returned home and started reading it, I did not find it as expected! I was bored in the first twenty pages and did not understand and did not finish it, so I returned it to the bookstore and gave up on it...

And the days pass and I read other novels. And about a week ago, as I was sitting on the cold ground in front of a row of translated literature novels, looking at them calmly and patiently. But I hear a merciless devilish voice, "Read my red name... Take it and be patient with it... You won't regret it!"

- No.. No, I don't want it! I won't spend the holiday with a huge, boring novel!

- Be patient... You will see a light in every word, but patience is patience!

- What is this? The novel is calling me by any right and I won't be able to stand it again!

But I did not resist and fell into the snares of this voice and deception. This novel called me by name. Sometimes I forget that I am a reader and feel that I am in a relationship with letters, words, lines, paragraphs and stories. I don't choose what I read but wait until the book calls me. And sometimes all this does not happen to me!

And I started reading it and oh my God! After the first hundred pages, I was drowned in details within details in a big maze and did not know how to get out of it. The novel speaks in the guise of a historical drama about the art of engraving and Islamic design in Istanbul under the rule of the Ottoman state after taking this science from the Chinese, Hindus, Europeans and Iranians. This art takes on a clear Islamic color and is influenced by the colors of the eastern Arabs.

I don't know, but I strongly felt the presence of the spirit of Naguib Mahfouz in the way this work was created. The way of narration was profound and attractive to me, and the order of the characters in the course of the story was strong and decisive. But the author was strongly influenced by the style of Naguib Mahfouz, even in the description of the scenes between the lover and his beloved, the worldly features mixed with the sensual feeling appeared!

I had decided to give it four stars, but before I finished it one day, I finally dreamed and wandered among the heroes and saw their views in my dream as he wrote them in detail... Therefore, I cannot but give it five!

Finished

  
"Books, which we mistake for consolation, only add depth to our sorrow."

"For the sake of a delightful and convincing story, there isn't a lie Orhan wouldn't deign to tell."

This is strikingly similar to 'The Name of the Rose'. That is an extremely well-researched historical crime fiction where individuals, not exactly detectives, are in pursuit of a criminal. There are other resemblances too. Both books possess a vast library with restricted access. They both comment on the position of women in the society of that time, and in both, people are troubled by the control of religious clerks over their lives. The mystery itself might not be overly interesting, but it is the clash of values in the background that renders the two books captivating.

'My Name is Red' fares much better in terms of differences. The love story is more engaging, the female character(s) (there was only one in TNOR) have more space and development, and the art talk is far more astonishing when compared to discussions like what Jesus meant in John 11:24. In Islam, painting is initially forbidden due to the dislike for anything remotely associated with idol worship. Some sections even advocate blurring the faces of dolls for little girls. However, by the time of our story, things had changed. Painters painted under several restrictions. Any innovation not seen decades ago was frowned upon, and making portraits of real people was considered a sin. They were expected to draw from memories:

  
"To paint is to remember"

So, their paintings, like of horses, were not like real horses but their essence, similar to Plato's 'forms'. But not all artists agreed with tradition:

  
"genuine artists have an instinctive desire to draw what's forbidden"

resulting in a clash. All those quotes, stories of artists going blind for art, and parables about art are truly adored. But due to space limitations, not all could be quoted. There is more to the story than just art talk. There is an element of fantasy with various narrators like the devil, corpse, tree, ghost, dog, and the color red. There are also narrators with red-herring names like Black, Butterfly, Strock, Olive, etc. And there are characters named after real-life people. Finally, Orhan's prose is remarkable, as seen in this favorite passage:

  
"It happens all the time to you fortunate literate people: A maiden who can't read begs you to read a love letter she has received. The letter is so surprising, exciting and disturbing that its owner, though embarrassed at your becoming privy to her most intimate affairs, ashamed and distraught, asks you all the same to read it once more. You read it again. In the end, you've read the letter so many times that both of you have memorized it. Before long, she'll take the letter in her hands and ask, 'Did he make that statement there?' and 'Did he say that here?' As you point to the appropriate places, she'll pore over those passages, still unable to make sense of the words there. As she stares at the curvy letters of the words, sometimes I am so moved I forget that I myself can't read or write and feel the urge to embrace those illiterate maidens whose tears fall to the page."

More quotes add depth to the story, such as:

"A letter doesn't communicate by words alone. A letter, just like a book, can be read by smelling it, touching it and fondling it."

"And if I happen to tell a lie or two from time to time, it's so you don't come to any false conclusions about me."

"the Sultan was seized by a kind of panic, suspecting that this volume he was reading recounted not a story or a legend, but what was most unbefitting a book: reality itself."

"imperfection gives rise to what we call style"

"After the victorous Fahir Shah captured Selahattin Khan and tortured him to death, his first task in asserting his sovereignty, according to custom, was to visit the library and the harem of the vanquished khan."

"no matter how talented a miniaturist might be, it is time that makes a picture perfect."

"Every idiot assumes there is a pressing circumstance about his love that necessitates particular haste, and thereby lays bare the intensity of his love, unwittingly putting a weapon into the hands of his beloved. If his lover is smart, she'll postpone the answer. The moral: Haste delays the fruits of love"

"It's because I don't understand what my heart is saying that I'm dispirited."

"Ibn Arabiâ's notion that love is the ability to make the invisible visible and the desire always to feel the invisible in one's midst"

"In reaction to being overly logical we'll feed fantasies for weeks and years on end, and one day we'll see something, a face, an outfit, a happy person, and suddenly realize that our dreams will never come true"

“Tell me then, does love make one a fool or do only fools fall in love?”

“Painting is the silence of thought and the music of sight.”

"beauty is the eye discovering in our world what the mind already knows."

Este livro é provavelmente uma obra-prima, mas não me cativou.

I really wanted to give this book a chance. I made a conscious effort to reach page 100. In fact, I ended up on page 101 since it was the conclusion of a chapter.

However, despite the fact that the main subject matter is painting, which I usually find interesting, and the short chapters that are supposed to make it more engaging, I just couldn't stay interested.

Most of the time, I was bored. The voices of the various narrators seemed overly alike, making it difficult to distinguish between them. The tales themselves and their so-called "morals" felt tired and unoriginal.

To be honest, I don't think this book was worth the effort.

Now, I'm going to go read something funny to unwind and forget about this disappointment.

(review in English below)

This book is probably a masterpiece, but didn't captivate me.

I struggled to get to page 100 - I stopped at 101 because it was the end of a chapter - but neither the fact that the main subject is painting, nor the short chapters, managed to keep my interest.

I was bored most of the time, by the overly alike voices of the different narrators, by the several tales and its morality, by everything, really, and I don't think it's worth it.

Now I'll go read something funny to unwind!

Some stories have an immediate and visceral impact, sinking their teeth into your gut and refusing to let go. Others, on the other hand, offer more cerebral pleasures, like the works of Borges that come to mind. This particular book leans more towards the second type, and that's perfectly fine with me.

First and foremost, there are several chapters in this book that read more like a section in a book on the history of Islamic illuminations rather than a chapter in a novel. However, in this regard, Pamuk can justifiably point to past predecessors in this vein, such as Tolstoy in War and Peace and Melville in Moby Dick. For my part, I truly liked reading about the art of Islamic miniatures.

Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, this is not a novel simply about a crime set in the workshops of the Ottoman Sultan's miniaturists. I understand what the blurb might suggest, but that's not the case. The setting is just that - a backdrop. The real gem in the crown is the eulogy, the tribute to the lost art of Islamic illumination.

And that's what really excited me. That, and the fact that it's not just a novel about this wonderful lost art. It's a novel that attempts to replicate that art in the form of a novel and, in doing so, brings us closer to understanding the tragedy of its loss.

Take a look at the picture above. It's an example of Islamic miniature art. In fact, it's an image of a great love story in Islamic literature. Really look at it. Notice the contours of the man's face, the details of the landscape, the flatness and odd perspective of the scene, and revel in the colors.

This image was produced and reproduced hundreds of thousands of times by different unknown artists in more or less the same way. It was studied closely by enthusiasts who knew the story by heart and could even recall what each element in the scene should look like.

This is not an image that can be dismissed with a single cursory glance. Saying "Oh, pretty" and moving on would be completely contrary to the spirit of the art. It wasn't even meant to be a standalone image but rather a decorative element in a book telling the story of the two lovers.

Look at that image. Not just the story it tells but the artistic elements and the ideas about the world that it embodies. That small piece of art is this book, and this book is that small piece of art. And when I finished the book, I mourned the loss of that art. It was truly brilliant!

Despite the length of the novel, with its detailed plot, description, coloring, and refinement, I have really enjoyed it.

I think it is a treasure, and I don't know if it has won the Nobel Prize for Literature for this novel, but it truly deserves to win.

If it weren't a historical novel, I would have thought the author was conducting a debate.

The description of the internal conflicts of the characters in the novel is fascinating and astonishing, as if they were characters from the present era, and this is the greatness of this author.

Thank you, Orhan Pamuk.

This is an absolutely fantastic book penned by the Nobel Prize winner Orhan Pamuk.

It delves deep into the complex relationship between art and religion, as well as between imagery and idolatry.

Set in the 16th century, it transports us into the vibrant Istanbul of the Ottoman empire.

The story unfolds as a murder mystery, told through the voices of the diverse characters that inhabit it.

Sometimes, these voices are even presented as drawings in the book or just as concepts.

The primary characters are so vividly drawn that they feel incredibly real.

The buildup to the big reveal at the end is masterfully crafted, making the book an absolute page turner.

I firmly believe that the story told here is still highly relevant to our modern world.

Given the problems that arise from reading religious texts literally and constructing violent systems of repression or terror based on individual interpretations of those readings.

Unfortunately, it seems that some aspects have not evolved enough in the past 400 years.

This book is truly a must-read for anyone interested in exploring these profound themes.