I don't know why, but I didn't have a very good view of this book. And if it weren't for the accompaniment of a book club, perhaps I would never have read it myself.

However, now I am satisfied that I have read this book. I really enjoyed the historical and artistic information volume of Orhan Pamuk. Especially, his research on the history of Iranian art amazed me and made me curious and want to conduct research in this regard.

I listened to the audio version of it with the voice of Arman Soltanzadeh, which also added to the appeal of the book for me.

This experience of reading this book has been quite unexpected and rewarding. It has opened my eyes to a new world of knowledge and has made me more interested in exploring different aspects of art and history. I am glad that I took the opportunity to read it and would recommend it to others as well.

Lots of people must like this book as it won a Nobel Prize. However, I put it aside after reading less than 50 pages. To me, it seems that this book, similar to WOLF HALL, was written more to satisfy the author rather than his readers. The story might have some elements that are not engaging enough for me. Maybe the writing style is too complex or the plot doesn't grip my attention. I understand that winning a Nobel Prize is a great achievement, but it doesn't necessarily mean that every book will be to everyone's taste. I prefer books that can draw me in from the very beginning and keep me hooked until the end. This one just didn't have that magic for me.

My name is Ahmed - Orhan Pamuk

This is not an ordinary novel...

It is a long, delicate novel that contains many stories within stories and so on... with many complex narrators and characters and a lot of conflicts...

The setting is Istanbul (a place) where the action takes place (I think the ornaments are what is meant by the action here)...

When I was reading the novel, it vaguely brought back to my memory those images that I had seen long ago and which are not widespread or famous and which, as far as I know, are not known in the Arab world at least not on a wide scale - as I believe -.

This art that reached the Ottoman state after their wars against the Mongols, the Huns, and the Chinese.

The novel takes us on a journey to sixteenth-century Istanbul... and Islamic culture...

And the conflict between a number of art schools in a changing world.

Between those who want to create a special and unique identity for Ottoman ornament and painting and those who want to adhere to the old schools and then there are those who demand following the (European) style, that is, the new style in painting....

This basic story is a conflict between innovation and old methods where doubts circulate among the discussants and lead to accusations of committing heresy and straying from religion...

Doubts and accusations that will lead to murders and it is difficult to guess the murderer through the pages no matter how much one tries.

In addition to a love story and a lot of details about life in Istanbul and about the world of books and bookstores and a lot of love and courage stories that ornament and painting have endured.

My first experience with Pamuk here was unique.

This is a beautiful combination of art, culture, history, the history of Ottoman and Safavid art, and also a romantic story, architectural and mysterious and a bit criminal.... Of course, a bit of Syrian sparkle too.

Reviewing and writing for this book is difficult, and it is enough in the same way!

This book seems to offer a rich tapestry of different elements. The mention of Ottoman and Safavid art history adds a layer of depth and cultural significance. The romantic story intertwined with it likely adds an element of human interest and emotion. The architectural and mysterious aspects make it all the more captivating, perhaps leaving readers with a sense of wonder and curiosity. And the hint of something criminal and a touch of Syrian sparkle add an extra bit of excitement and uniqueness. Overall, it seems like a book that has a lot to offer and would be a challenging but rewarding one to review and write about.

So yeah, I had high expectations for this book. I mean, I usually enjoy books set in this context. For some reason, I find the Byzantine and Ottoman Empires captivating. Maybe it's because they are located between the East and the West, resulting in a fascinating blend of different cultures and ideas. Maybe it's because they both endured for such a long time. Or perhaps it's because, like Rodney Dangerfield, they don't receive the respect they deserve.

However, as you can see from the rating, it failed miserably to meet my expectations.

The book's description, about the murder of a miniaturist (artist) who was working on a controversial book for the Sultan, appealed to my literary sensibility. I mean, Ottoman Empire + Murder Mystery = Awesome book, right? Right?!? RIGHT!?!?!?!

Well, in theory, yes, but not in practice, for many reasons.

The biggest problem was that I didn't care about the characters at all. I didn't find any of them interesting or engaging. Their problems seemed petty and uninteresting to me. The murder investigation (if it can even be called that) was mostly in the background and didn't really pick up until the end of the book. Too much attention was given to the dull "love" story between Black and Shekure, which bored me to tears (it didn't help that there was a large age gap and they were first cousins). The first-person and introspective nature of their POV characters made them even more unbearable. Finally, the frequent changes in POV were harmful to any narrative momentum.

That's not to say there weren't any interesting characters. It just so happened that the only engaging chapters were from the POV of the recently deceased or objects a storyteller was speaking through (a counterfeit coin, a dog, a horse). They explored more nuanced aspects of Ottoman society and culture with a rather irreverent tone that I liked. Or maybe they just weren't the boring humans that I had grown tired of by the end.

And that's a shame because the book touches on what I think is a fascinating discussion about art, style, artist workshops, cultural and religious relationships within art and society at large. Overall, the examination of how "Frankish" art, which has perspective and tries to perfectly imitate what the artist sees, was going to affect the Ottoman style, which was based on older masters and the philosophy that a painting should represent what Allah saw, is a rich concept to explore. But the same themes on this topic were repeated too often, killing any interesting expansion of these ideas.

This book could have been great. It could have delved deeper into Ottoman society (which we only scratched the surface of). It could have more clearly explored the depths of the artistic style dynamics that drove the story without overdoing it. It could have had interesting characters who were dynamic and not weighed down by petty, uninteresting love storylines. It could have been so much more, but it wasn't, and that may be the biggest tragedy of all. I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed.

It is an extremely rare and precious pleasure to come across a book that is so exquisitely and richly layered.

What lies within this work, which is essentially a captivating murder mystery, is a veritable treasure trove. It encompasses the profound history of Islamic art, with a particular focus on miniaturists, and delves into its fascinating clash with European (Frankish) art during the late 15th and early 16th centuries.

Moreover, it weaves in a beautiful romance, offers a detailed social history of Istanbul during that era, explores the theme of religious extremism, presents a seditious storyteller in a coffeehouse, and provides insights into Ottoman history.

Adding to its allure are the multiple parables and historic tales that are steeped in myth.

Pamuk masterfully tells this story through a plethora of different voices. Each voice offers a unique perspective on the events as they unfold in a rather bizarre and engaging manner, even including the murdered individuals sharing the tales of their own deaths.

There was a certain point, perhaps around four-fifths of the way through the book, when the seemingly endless intricacies of Islamic representations of horses, in particular, began to wear a bit thin. (Dear Orhan, we really do get the message already!)

However, what I truly adored was the way in which the author manages to make us 'see' and deeply think about this art form in its numerous and diverse settings. He has compelled me to think quite profoundly about visual artistry, which is not something that I am usually inclined to do very often. (I must admit, I can be a bit on the lazy side.)

I wavered for a while as to whether I should award this book 4.5 or 5 stars. The translation of this particular edition does have its flaws. It is written in American English, and the translator uses words like 'ornery' quite frequently, which holds little meaning on this side of the Atlantic.

Furthermore, he employs abbreviations such as 'I'd've' that a native speaker would not ordinarily use in print.

Nevertheless, I cannot mark down the book itself for its translation, only this specific edition.

Despite the fact that the descriptions of artworks were at times overly lengthy and the number of parables became a touch tedious at certain moments, I simply have to give it 5 stars.

This is because, overall, it is a sumptuously beautiful book, one that I have thoroughly enjoyed losing myself in over the past few days.

"My Name Is Red" might seem like a huge oriental-themed mystery, set in the magnificent Ottoman Istanbul at the height of its glory, serving as a pretext for Nobel laureate Orhan Pamuk's pen to give a passionate, colorful, and vivid description of his city.

It surely is: but it would be banal to reduce it only to this because the great Turkish writer, in accordance with the poetics of his whole life, represents, against the backdrop of the Ottoman police investigation, what he believes is the highest point of cultural encounter between Christian West and Islam: the advent of humanism in Turkey through the contiguity (even violent: Lepanto) between the Serene Republic of Venice and the Ottoman Turkey at the end of the 16th century.

When we talk about humanism and the Renaissance, often the unforgettable artistic works, often of a figurative nature, come to mind: the dome of Santa Maria del Fiore, the Vatican rooms of Raphael, the terrible Christ Pantocrator that dominates Michelangelo's Judgment. But to understand how Islam could have received this revolution, we must take a step back with Pamuk and look at the thought that made all this possible: the first thing that the court humanists did was to rethink the relationship between man and the sacred, putting man himself at the center of the universe.

This anthropocentrism, combined with the immense capacity that Venetian painting has developed in painting with a new handling of perspective, light, and color (Giorgione, Pontormo, Paolo Veronese, Titian), hands over to the greats of that time a new form of aspiring to memory and eternity: portraiture.

In a world so strongly polarized from a religious point of view as Islam, the arrival of humanism with its claims to overcome death in a secular way could only unleash a terrible earthquake, cultural, artistic, but also political. And it is this earthquake that underlies the sequence of murders that the knight Nero Effendi must solve to save his own head and marry his beloved Sekure.

Just as in "The Name of the Rose" set in the West four centuries earlier (which is no coincidence that it is recalled from the title), also in this case violence and murder are unleashed by the attempt of religious orthodoxy to keep hidden the umpteenth book forged in Hell. The sultan of Istanbul, fascinated by the potential of imperishable glory that Renaissance techniques handed over to art, has commissioned to the court miniaturists a secret and heretical illustrated book containing the portrait of the sultan executed according to Venetian techniques: blatantly violating the precepts of the Quran. The response, to which we are still accustomed today, can only be death.

Nero Effendi, with the help of the legendary court master Osman, will enter the wonderful world of artistic treasures produced by Persian Islam along the Silk Road, and especially thanks to the analysis of the style of the works of the miniaturists, recognized with infinite love by the master, will succeed in solving the mystery, defeating the assassin in a duel and reaching his bride.

The mystery is quite linear and simple, then, and it is very clear that we are talking about something else. Of the missed opportunity by Islam to free itself from a frustrating and passive relationship with the sacred together with the Christianity of the Renaissance. But also of the integralist devotion of the Ottoman miniaturists to art and beauty, to a world of artistic wonders as big as a continent and of which Westerners grown up in the shadow of Leonardo and Michelangelo are even ignorant of its existence. Such ignorance borders on blasphemy.

The book is really written with love, and so it could not be bad: for those who are passionate about Renaissance art, it becomes a masterpiece. For those who are interested in the ever-current theme of the relationship between East and West, it becomes indispensable.

The first book that I read by Orhan Pamuk (even though it was late) and it became one of my best books

The language design of this novel is extremely engaging and captivating.

Pamuk unfolds a panorama of the still medieval-influenced life in the Ottoman Empire during the time of the (Western European) Renaissance.

Packaged as a historical crime novel (similar to Dostoyevsky), the novel describes the torn nature of the Orient and the Occident based on theology and art history.

Therefore, thematically, the novel is highly relevant.

It delves deep into the cultural and social fabric of that era, presenting a vivid picture of the conflicts and interactions between different worlds.

The use of language and the narrative style add to the overall allure of the story, making it a must-read for those interested in history, literature, and the exploration of different cultures.

The novel not only entertains but also educates, providing valuable insights into a fascinating period of time.

It shows how the forces of change and tradition clashed, and how individuals navigated through the complex web of beliefs and values.

Overall, it is a remarkable work that combines elements of history, mystery, and philosophy to create a truly unforgettable reading experience.

My Name is Red is an extraordinary representation of how the light of art and science was extinguished in the East. It is a book that, although at times it can be challenging, thanks to its engaging narrative, it never becomes boring.

The way the book is written is very different from other books I have read. You play the role of a narrator in every part, and the narrator of each chapter is also a "thing." Sometimes it is a person, sometimes a dog, sometimes a tree, and even sometimes a corpse! Yes, a corpse! The whole story actually starts from a corpse, and the story also has a detective plot where you have to find the killer of this corpse in a tannery. The way the book is written, with its salt and sincerity, makes it so that there is always a smile on the reader's lips, and the passionate spirit of the Eastern way of life can be fully felt line by line in the book.

The main theme of the book is related to art, especially painting, and it is about a period when Europe, after a long dark age, is now seeing painting reach new heights again, and on this side, it is about the reaction of Ottoman Muslim painters and religious people to painting, especially the Western style and context of painting. As usual, there are extreme groups that are against painting and are engaged in destruction, beating, imprisoning, and killing. There is a group of artists who believe that we should not use the methods of the West and should adhere to our own traditions and principles, and there is a group that thinks the European perspective is more beautiful and we should move in that direction. Now, the fact that we think that the truth lies with one of these groups has actually been the essence and foundation of our eternal problems! Oh my God...

If the last chapter of this book did not exist and did not describe the fate of Islamic art and painting and its painters for us, I would have intended to give the book between 3 and 4 points. But this last chapter made me see the whole book in a different way. All this turmoil, all this cultural destruction, and in the end, nothing. Yes! We all know how that whole science and art was lost in the midst of chaos and blind fanaticism. This book tells all these stories only for those last two lines and the fate of the Ottoman Palace Painting School, which was once one of the main centers of art in the whole world. To remind us how those unique and individual people whose only goal was the elevation of painting, and who had nothing to do with Eastern or Western affairs, were lost in our story, and we completely forgot to count them in our own hands. How we got so involved in finding the killer and the victim, right and wrong, that we moved away from the essence of art until, very beautifully, all the birds flew away from above us...

P.S: I really have to thank Orhan Pamuk. To the extent that this person has served our Iranian culture with this book, we ourselves have not shown enough appreciation to our predecessors.

P.S2: I listened to the audiobook. Maybe reading it from the book would not have given me such a sense of its grandeur.

This book is not only a historical novel but also delves deeply into the realm of art.

Let's first consider the novel aspect. It tells the story of miniaturist painters in Istanbul during the late 1500s. The daughter of a deceased master finds herself in a difficult situation. Her soldier husband has been missing for four years, and without a body or witnesses to his death, she can't obtain a divorce and move forward with her life. She desires to find a new husband and a father for her two young sons, while also fending off the amorous advances of her husband's brother. Additionally, there is a murder mystery to solve.

Then there is a man named Black, an administrator of sorts, who has returned to town after twelve years in distant lands. He still holds a torch for the beautiful widow from his youth. Can he solve the mystery of her father's murder, keep the brother-in-law at bay, assist her in getting a legal divorce, and win her hand in marriage? Along the way, the text incorporates mini-essays on various topics such as horses, dogs in the Koran, what it's like to be a murderer, Satan, and the path of a counterfeit coin.

At least half of this lengthy work is dedicated to art. (I call it lengthy because the 500-page paperback I read had tiny type, so it would be more like a 700- or 800-page book in normal font.) Miniaturist painting was imported into the Ottoman Empire from Persia. Most of the paintings were done as illustrations in books and to adorn the borders of book pages, often accompanied by elaborate calligraphy. (Think of the Irish monks' manuscripts like the Book of Kells.)

Ottoman miniaturist painting was highly stylized. The pictures were drawn from the perspective of Allah, from the top of a minaret, and did not use the true perspective as the West understands it. Armies were depicted symmetrically in battle scenes, horses always had the same foreleg raised, and a finger placed in the mouth always signified surprise. In accordance with religious concerns about idolatry, faces were generic and not individualized. Who would dare place an identifiable individual at the center of a painting? Man can copy, but only Allah can create. The painter aimed to portray the ideal horse or chair as Allah created it (think of Plato's "ideal chair"), not the individual variant in front of them. The question then arises: Is individuality expressed by a traditional miniaturist painter considered a "style" or a "flaw"? Does it offend God?

When comparing all this to the European masters of the time like da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Raphael (whom the Turks called "the Venetians"), it becomes clear that a significant portion of the book explores the meeting of the East and the West in the art world. Overall, this is an excellent book by the Nobel Prize-winning Pamuk. The story held my interest, and I enjoyed learning about Ottoman art, although at times the sections where the miniaturists discussed the philosophy behind painting became repetitive.

I purchased this book precisely because the very first line or page seemed to be original and highly intriguing. It immediately caught my attention and piqued my curiosity.

But as I delved deeper into the novel, I soon discovered that it was rather tedious and boring. The story didn't seem to progress in an engaging manner, and the characters lacked depth and complexity.

To be honest, it just wasn't my cup of tea. I found myself struggling to get through each page, and I ultimately lost interest in the book. It's a shame really, because the initial promise was so great, but unfortunately, it failed to deliver.

I think perhaps this book is better suited for a different type of reader, someone who enjoys a slower-paced and more detailed narrative. For me, however, it simply didn't meet my expectations.