Unfortunately, I found this book to be an extremely tedious slog. Just because a book wins a highly prestigious prize, in this case, the Nobel, it doesn't automatically make it worthy of being read. I simply couldn't bring myself to care about any of the characters. Most of them were deceitful, manipulative, childish, petty, cruel, and ruled by emotions such as jealousy. Nor could I muster any interest in the story. The only character that came somewhat alive for me was Esther, the Jewish clothing peddler and matchmaker. The exhaustive inventories had me rolling my eyes in boredom. I couldn't wait to be done with this novel. The whole narrative seemed to have emerged from a very aloof worldview. It just never truly came alive for me. And the pacing was painfully slow, like a glacier creeping along. The author seems not to care at all how his writing impacts his audience. I don't think writers should pander to readers, but I do believe they should have some awareness of them. This writer seems to lack that entirely.

However, the reason I didn't give it a lower rating was because, although for me the book failed as a novel, as a history it was quite interesting. It chronicled, in great detail, a time, the Ottoman Empire during the sixteenth century, and a place, Central and Western Asia, with a focus on Istanbul, about which I previously knew very little. I learned a great deal about this fascinating era, the brilliant city, and the philosophy of Islamic art during this time. (The artists were expected to be anonymous members of a workshop who didn't even sign their works or have an individual style). Pamuk vividly depicts both the extravagant glories and barbaric cruelties of this time and place.

Also, some of the writing was quite beautiful. The book has a lapidary style like that of the painted miniatures that are its central subject.

Although Erdag Goknar’s translation is generally pretty good, it contained a few missteps. He uses the word “lotor” (which is someone who does laundry) to mean, I’m guessing from the context, laundry soap. Also, he employs the idiom “step foot” instead of the more commonly used “set foot”.

John Lee's audio reading didn't help matters. Although I've found him an admirable reader of other books, here his narration was a mixed bag. He tends to have a very detached and flat style of reading. He was best here during the passages in which he became more animated.

Overall, this book had its pros and cons. While it failed to engage me as a novel, it provided valuable historical insights and had some beautiful writing. The translation and audio reading also had their flaws. It's a book that I'm glad I read for the knowledge it imparted, but one that I wouldn't necessarily recommend to others looking for a thrilling or engaging read.

**My Name is Red by Orhan Pamuk: A Masterpiece of Literature**

My Name Is Red is a remarkable 1998 Turkish novel penned by Orhan Pamuk and translated into English by Erdağ Göknar in 2001. Pamuk, who later received the prestigious 2006 Nobel Prize in Literature, crafted this novel which is set in the Ottoman Empire of 1591 and revolves around miniaturists. The novel not only established Pamuk's international reputation but also significantly contributed to his Nobel win. One can clearly see the influences of literary greats like Joyce, Kafka, Mann, Nabokov, Proust, and above all Eco in Pamuk's work. The story is a complex and engaging exploration of art, identity, and love. The different perspectives presented through the various characters add depth and richness to the narrative.

For example, the passage translated by Tohmineh Zardest展现了主人公在面对复杂的家庭和情感问题时的挣扎与抉择。This novel is a must-read for anyone interested in literature that combines beautiful prose with profound themes. It offers a unique glimpse into a different time and culture, while also addressing universal human experiences.

This book was a compilation from the Parsal Book Exhibition, and surely, due to its large volume, it requires appropriate patience and time.

The story, which is related to painting art during the Safavid and Ottoman courts, includes the life, work, and relationships of the painters of that period, and covering the history of painting is a major part of the book. I extremely liked the subject matter being impersonal.

However, a particular point that intrigued me in many parts was the strange style and language of the characters. The majority of the parts have the style of street conversations and are common, which is inappropriate for the style and context of the story, as well as the etiquette and customs of that historical period.

Some of the main characters were not well-developed, and the reader couldn't identify with them and place himself in the shoes of the characters. (The character of Shokoh was completely incomprehensible to me.)

And a matter that was very attractive to me was that the proximity of Iranian culture to Turkish culture created a space as if it was a beloved Iranian novel rather than a translated work.

There are basically two reasons that would make you read a book repeatedly.

Either you realize years later that you were not able to understand the author's intention when you first read the book, and you experience the disappointment of realizing that you missed the ideas in it, or the beauties of the book have taken root and sprouted within you, and a sentence, a joke, a moment, a tiny story in it has become a part of you, and you want to read that book again just like you want to see a beautiful landscape again. My Name Is Red is a book of the second type, and when I read it again, I noticed the details of its beauty that I had missed before, and refreshed the stories that I remembered vividly in my mind. It was my novel to get to know Orhan Pamuk, and it was an interesting experience to go back and read it again after reading all his novels.

Orhan Pamuk is most often criticized for the difficulty of reading his books. This book, like The Black Book, which also received the same criticism, is designed for the reader to be able to enjoy it, not lose interest in the book, and have fun on every page. My Name Is Red is a book with dozens of stories served in a humorous language where dogs, gold, and colors are mentioned. Even if you don't like one part of the book, you may like the next part, and even if you don't like one character, you may like another. For example, Orhan Pamuk says that his favorite female character among his novels is Şeküre, but I didn't like Şeküre that much. But I had great fun reading Ester. If My Name Is Red cannot capture a reader at all, the reader is most likely approaching it with prejudice.

When asked which is his favorite novel, Orhan Pamuk says that his answer changes over time, but generally his answer is My Name Is Red, and he quotes his mother Şeküre's words, "I can put all his novels in one place, they are the novels written by the Orhan I know, but My Name Is Red was written by an Orhan I don't know." As someone who now follows Pamuk's writings almost obsessively, I also agree with this finding. I can say that among Orhan Pamuk's novels, this one stands out alone. Perhaps we can compare the writing style of My Name Is Red to that of The Museum of Innocence in terms of the way it positions the reader and the way it makes short statements. Here, the ongoing stories of many characters are told quickly in a format we are not used to. Orhan Pamuk creates the novel atmosphere not with the environment but by describing the thinking styles of the characters and the habits and customs of the miniaturists.

My Name Is Red is the most fun, the most colorful, the most humorous Orhan Pamuk book.

Kara is a typical Orhan Pamuk character: like Galip, like Ka, like Kemal. A critic once described these characters as "world-confused," which is a nice description.

The end of the book comes when Orhan Pamuk makes the determination that "this novel should be at most this thick," as in most of his books, not because the story is that long. If Pamuk wanted, he could have written another 2000 pages.

And finally, Pamuk says that Plague Nights tells about the fires and the plague in Istanbul, but it is about literature, and it will be like My Name Is Red. I'm also waiting impatiently.

"The art is the elegance of the line, and the color is the elegance of the word."

For a long time, I haven't read a work with all this passion and beauty!
You feel as if you have become a part of it, from every detail in it despite its length..
You completely blend with its characters, their lives and their desires..
For every thing or person or event there is a story, even for the dogs and the trees there is a story, for the paintings there is a story, for the colors there is a story..

Your mind and imagination go to the world of Islamic paintings and patterns, to the schools of Herat, Tabriz and Istanbul, you imagine the paintings with their stories, their inscriptions, the intermingling of their colors and the frames they go in.. You imagine the embroideries of the patterns, the realities of the colors and all the tools of painting as if you were a student in the Sultanate's painting studio.

The first-person narrative style came in an amazing way, within a police and murder mystery framework, and your attempt to know the murderer in the midst of all this wonderful and magical chaos of paintings, colors, schools and methods.

Thank you, Orhan Pamuk, for this unique gift.

…

This article beautifully expresses the author's profound appreciation for a work of art. The description of how the art makes the reader feel as if they are part of it, blending with the characters and their lives, is truly captivating. The mention of the various elements such as the paintings, colors, and patterns adds depth and richness to the experience. The first-person narrative style within a mystery framework further enhances the intrigue and keeps the reader engaged. Overall, it is a heartfelt tribute to the beauty and power of art.

Orhan Pamuk writes: “The fundamental question of the novel ‘My Name Is Red’ is not the East-West relationship, but the suffering, tortured dedication of the miniaturist, the artist, to his work. The themes of the book are art, existence, married life, and happiness. The East-West dilemma is in a more backward position.”

In fact, the book can be defined as a tribute to the ancient art of miniature that Islam inherited from China. An art that requires patience, precision, love, a lot of imagination and creativity, but above all a strong and stable religious faith that, like the roots of millennia-old trees, penetrates and enriches every aspect of existence, as it is for Islamic culture. An art that was practiced by unknown masters, who in turn learned it by looking at the miniatures that their predecessors left in collections kept in the rooms of the sultans' treasures, and gradually going back in time to its origins. The novel is set in Turkey at the end of the 1500s, a historical period when the pictorial art of miniature, so refined and precious, begins to disappear following the advent of the painting styles spread from the post-Renaissance West, when the theocentrism of Islamic art is put in crisis by the anthropocentrism of Western painting, in the difficult moment of transition or rather contamination between the two worlds, which, the writer tells us, is always positive because it enriches man. And as happens in every change, a certain bitterness, sadness and regret for what is lost are perceived on the pages.

The greatness of the writer is indisputable: it seemed to me that in the work there is a summary of Islamic tradition and culture, an entire world examined and represented through the characters of the master miniaturists, Master Osman and Master Effendi, expressions of the two ways of conceiving art that I mentioned above, of Sekure, a shrewd and intelligent woman, sure and strong, a mother above all else, and of Nero, a dreamy lover, a couple that recalls the mythical couple of Cosroe and Sirin, whose story is the most illustrated and celebrated in Islamic codices, of Esther the Jewish seller of dowries, who acts as a mediator of love.

So far I have exposed everything that made me love this book from the first pages, which I recognize charmed me. Continuing, the reading became heavier, the concepts were repeated several times, the descriptions of the designs of the miniatures are long and detailed and often boring. In short, I arrived exhausted at the end, in which the enigma of the “yellow” – rather faded by the way – that Pamuk inserted in the novel is resolved and I let out a long sigh of relief.

My Name is Red is a truly remarkable novel that takes readers on a captivating journey to 16th century Istanbul. Set against the backdrop of this vibrant city, the story weaves together a complex tapestry of Turkish history, autobiographical details, and a thrilling murder mystery.

The novel's first-person narrative features a diverse cast of characters, including the primary miniature artists Olive, Stork, Butterfly, and Black, as well as their mentor Osman, Black's beloved Shekure, and even inanimate objects like a tree, a horse, and a dog. The color red itself becomes a character, adding depth and symbolism to the story.

One of the novel's strengths is its exploration of the clash between traditional Muslim miniaturist art and the encroaching influence of Venetian or "Frankish" art. This conflict is not only about style and technique but also about cultural values and the threat of outside forces. The sultan's envoys' visit to Italy and their exposure to Venetian paintings引发了一场激烈的争论about the future of Islamic art.

Orhan Pamuk also uses blindness as a powerful allegorical tool in the novel. Miniaturists are so dedicated to their craft that they see eventual blindness as a gift, a way to preserve their vision of art within their consciousness. This theme raises questions about the nature of art, talent, and the price that artists are willing to pay for their work.

In addition to its exploration of art and culture, My Name is Red is also a murder mystery that keeps readers on the edge of their seats. The mystery is intertwined with the novel's other themes, adding an extra layer of complexity and intrigue.

Overall, My Name is Red is a masterful work of fiction that combines elements of history, art, mystery, and romance. It is a novel that rewards careful reading and reflection, and it offers a unique perspective on the world of 16th century Istanbul. Whether you are interested in art, history, or just a good story, My Name is Red is a novel that is well worth reading.

I remember reading the last paragraph of the novel which says thank you "Beware of believing Aurhan, because there is no lie that he will not present to make his story beautiful and believable", a literary expression that she says is present in all the stories she writes. And this made me wonder about the hidden reason behind Bamuq's choice of names like "Aurhan", "Shouk", and "Shukur" for the characters in his novel, which are actually just his name, his older brother's name, and his mother's name. And does this book carry a part of Bamuq's and his family's spirit?

Bamuq answers this question in his book "Other Colors" by saying that he has revealed some of his life in this book, like his endless quarrels with his older brother Shouk, and their strange adventures that always end with separation and tears. There is also some of his mother in Shukur, she is a strong and controlling woman who knows what she does and what she wants, or at least this is the way she tries to appear. And the way Shouk, Aurhan's brother, cooks, and the way she spoils the two brothers... etc. These things and many other small details Bamuq has transferred from life... from his life.

What about the plot of the novel?

Although Bamuq was brave in injecting his novel with an element of excitement when he published it with a police publisher, he admits in one of his articles that the plot of the mystery was contrived and that he did not write it with sincerity from his heart. And he justifies using it out of his fear that no one will be interested in his beautiful ramblings unless there is such a tool to attract the reader to it, and in my opinion, it also carries a very symbolic meaning. The murder that the victim was the elegant painter was a clear and honest expression of the hatred of the violent towards the arts of painting, and the crimes that they committed and still commit - in their imagination - against art, beauty, and visual expression.

And far from the police atmosphere, the novel revolves at a deeper level around the fear of forgetting, the fear of losing art. This beautiful art has been brutally lost and forgotten; and he wrote about the pains and tragedies of this loss, this erasure. It is about the pains and sorrows of a lost history!

I am in two minds about this book.

On one hand, it is undeniably an important work. It beautifully showcases the miniaturist tradition of the Islamic world and delves into the exploration of the difference in philosophies between the East and the West. This aspect was particularly interesting to me as I have long been fascinated by this very difference since I started viewing paintings with a serious interest. In the East, the concept of "perspective" as we know it in the West does not exist. Instead, the painting flows seamlessly over space and time. In contrast, in the West, especially since the Renaissance, the painting is seen as a reproduction of a particular moment in time. The miniaturist paints the world as God sees it, without signing the painting or having an individual style, as he believes himself to be unimportant. He even continues to paint, and perhaps even better, after going blind. The Frankish painters, on the other hand, paint the world as we see it, which is considered blasphemy by some of the miniaturists.

The book also captivated me with its sweep and the way it was presented. The short chapters, each from the viewpoint of a different character, gave the impression of looking at a book of miniatures, with each page telling a different story. Moreover, it is a murder mystery where the victims and the murderer directly speak to the reader, which bears a certain resemblance to "The Name of the Rose", although I personally think Eco's book is much more powerful.

However, there are also some minuses. The writing is cumbersome and a bit of a task to wade through. I'm not sure if this is a problem with Pamuk's writing or the translation. The characters are rather flat. The protagonist, Black, is too weak and cowardly, and the heroine, if we can call her that, is too self-centered and manipulative. Maybe the author intended them to be like this, but it does tend to lose the reader's interest.

I was also rather put off by the amount of lust that seems to bubble on each page. There is not just normal sex, but also incest, paedophilia, bestiality, fetishism, and more, all simmering just beneath the surface. Young boys are regularly presented as objects of lust, and men kiss each other passionately, even when one is about to kill the other. I have heard that Turkey was the center of what some might consider "deviant" sexual practices during Ottoman times, so maybe this is a true picture, but it just didn't sit well with me.

Taking all the positives and negatives into account, I would rate this book three stars.

This was an absolute joy to read.

I have read numerous good books, with engaging stories, well-developed characters, excellent dialogue, and great writing. However, it is a truly rare treat when I can sit down and fully immerse myself in a book, knowing that the writer has not only crafted a good piece of work but has elevated it to the level of art. They have invested their time, energy, creativity, and genius into creating a wonderful work that is designed to be more than just good.

Turkish writer Orhan Pamuk's 1998 novel, this edition translated into English by Erdag M. Goknar, is not only about sixteenth-century intrigue in and around Istanbul but also about art, artists, culture, Islam, and so much more.

As the novel begins, a miniaturist has been brutally murdered and thrown down into an abandoned well. We learn this because the victim himself tells us.

Each chapter in Pamuk's tale is told from the perspective of a different character. Starting with the murder victim, we also hear from other artists, the murderer, an art master, a tree, a painting of a horse, and so on.

In the author's capable hands, it feels as if the narrator of each chapter is sitting on a stage, sharing a conversation with us about their aspect of the story. Some of these conversations are insightful and filled with clues about the ongoing investigation, while others are more chatty, providing us with illuminating backstory about the region, the Ottoman Empire, or the other characters.

Through this multi-faceted narrative, we get to know dozens of players in this act, all while trying to figure out who the murderer is and why the deed was done.

Masterfully created, this was an exceptionally well-told story that kept me engaged from beginning to end.

At the beginning, with the death of the beloved Zarif - the golden artist who painted illustrations for the sultan, Orhan Pamuk leads the reader into the world of an Ottoman Turkey, a profound and culturally rich Istanbul, full of history, religion, and above all, the art of miniature painting. It is a mysterious world of miniature painters; of blind respect and the profound domination of Islam in the Ottoman Empire; of the spark of love rekindled between Siyah and Shekure; of intrigues, murderous decisions full of danger from the villain whose true identity is only revealed in the last chapters of the book...

More than a masterful detective novel where the author leaves no loophole in the reasoning and actions of the characters, "My Name Is Red" is also a historical novel that not only depicts a period in the history of Ottoman art but also serves as a means for that cultural background to voice its protest against the invasion of Western culture. In the教义 of Islam and the Quran, the creation and worship of idols (i.e., images of saints in human form) are prohibited. Due to this regulation, the art of the Ottoman Empire never was, nor was it allowed to, faithfully depict the images seen by the artists. All that appears in the paintings of the miniature painters is only approximate, drawn according to the patterns passed down from previous masters, and these patterns are regarded as the prescribed images of Saint Allah, what Allah saw and wanted people to see about the world. These inherited patterns have nothing creative and are actually just art patterns deeply influenced by Chinese art because the Ottoman Empire was conquered by the Mongols at that time.

For the Ottoman artists who are faithful to the Quran and the教义 of Islam, typically represented by Master Osman, painting like Western art, following the laws of composition and depicting what the artist sees with his own eyes is precisely a sacrilege, a heresy, going against what is prescribed in the Quran. Because for them, if the law of perspective is applied, if God is far away, then he must be painted small, and sometimes even smaller than a dog. This is disrespectful to God who created the world. The development and formation of a new "style" of art in the Ottoman Empire at that time was also an unacceptable thing because for them, "style" is precisely the manifestation of the incomplete and imperfect state of the painter, and that is not the image that God wants people to see through the memory of him preserved in the hands and minds of the miniature painter. Siyah, Zeytin, Kelebek, Leylek, Zarif, and even Master Osman and Enishte had to tear themselves apart between the traditions of their religion, the absolute beliefs that seemed to be shaking in the教义 of the Quran, and the sultan's desire for an illustrated book in the style of Western artists, a style that for most of them is an act of the devil Satan against the "good" and "religious." They had to walk on a tightrope where neither side is the shore they want to rely on: being faithful to a cultural background that is faintly approximate and has no creativity, so that their own names and the values of their works will also be forgotten, or abandoning what the Quran has taught, imitating the realistic painting style of Westerners in search of what is called style, the individuality of the artist, only to finally realize that they can never reach the master's level of realistic depiction.

Also writing about a detective story on a colorful historical, religious, and cultural background, readers can easily compare "My Name Is Red" with another classic detective novel, "The Name of the Rose" by the Italian philosopher Umberto Eco (and coincidentally, the titles of both books start with the word "name" ^^). However, for me, all comparisons are inappropriate because "My Name Is Red" takes place in a different background, with a cultural and historical space that combines East and West and the absolute domination of Islamic教义. It is beautiful in its own way, in the way that the image of a mysterious East in the face of the irresistible influence of Western civilization evokes for us. It is beautiful in terms of historical depth, in terms of the cultural depth of the Ottoman Empire, captivating and charming no less than other European countries. It is beautiful because it is presented through the pen of a person who once studied architecture before becoming a writer (and thus the history of Ottoman art appears so vivid and colorful, along with profound and witty sayings), and now is a writer who has been awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. What more could one ask for in a book when "My Name Is Red" is a complete and harmonious gathering of a detective story in the background of the history, traditions, culture, and art of a country where the East and West intersect, of a religious background deeply dominated by Islam? And this is truly a wonderful book because through it, Orhan Pamuk not only tells a murder investigation story but also evokes an entire cultural space, an entire sky, a fading period of Ottoman art in particular and Islamic art in general. He also allows readers, both in the East and the West, to see his love and pride for his beloved homeland, for the country that raised him (even though there have been many conflicts between him and the Ottoman government that have made him face the risk of prosecution; now he is living and working in the United States), for the Islamic civilization - a civilization with positive values that unfortunately, in the face of the rapid development of information dissemination and the naivety and (temporarily called) "silly" of a rather large part of the information receivers, it has been stereotyped, distorted to become ugly, and associated with the label of "terrorism."

This is a book that is worthy of being read many times, not only because of the profound and implicit sayings along with the historical and cultural depth that need to be chewed and analyzed for a long time to fully understand, but also because of the spirit and spatial dimension it evokes - a space full of the grandeur, magnificence, and also hidden within it are the undercurrents and deep colors; the struggles of artists and art throughout the ages in a background deeply dominated by religion and the irresistible influence of Western art until today.

It's not often that one comes across books that commence with the speech of a character who is already deceased. In fact, it's extremely rare to encounter dead bodies speaking at all, wouldn't you concur? Well, Pamuk seemingly didn't receive this memo. Because that's precisely how his remarkable work, "My Name is Red," begins.

The body of "Elegant" Effendi is decomposing in a well, somewhere in Istanbul. During his lifetime, he was a miniaturist, an art form typically found in Ottoman books, and his talent was renowned as one of the finest of his era, thus earning him the nickname "Elegant." His carcass, decaying in its crumpled position at the bottom of that well, reveals to the reader that he has been murdered and demands that his killer be found. He dreams of the torments that the one who ended his life will endure. A four-day-old corpse dreams of vengeance...

The next aspect you notice in the book is that each chapter is structured around a single, individual character. This implies that the reader's perspective resembles that of a deity, observing the same image through different sets of eyes. This oversight that you bear in the beginning evolves into a kind of judgmental stance, as you, as a passive observer, become integrated into the story. You gradually become the one in search of the murderer. There are three possible killers: Olive, Butterfly, and Stork. At one point, one of them deceives himself through his unique painting style. Additionally, the human characters are not the only ones who speak throughout the chapters; Death herself discusses how she wanders the streets of Istanbul, a tree drawn by a miniaturist narrates the story of its creation, a coin of their time relates its journey through numerous pockets, and so on. Through the "lifeless" characters of this work, you not only understand the art of miniaturists (with the assistance of the tree drawing) but also the entire world itself, the setting in which you are bound to exist for as long as you read Pamuk's writing.

I believe there are three main storylines in this book: the pursuit to discover Elegant Effendi's murderer, the love story between Black and Shekure, and the creation of a book that Black was commissioned to undertake.

Black is a miniaturist and a binder who has just returned to Istanbul after 12 years as a freelance worker in various regions of the world. At the time of the story, he is 36 years old, but he is also presented as a young 24-year-old man who fell in love with the then 12-year-old Shekure, the daughter of Black's uncle, Enishte Efendi. Even after 12 years away, and even if her face may have faded from his memory, Black realizes that the love of his life is her and that he is willing to do anything to have Shekure by his side. Nothing is an obstacle in his quest: even the fact that she is already married seems to be just a minor issue on their path. He sets out to win her over and, in the process, is taken under the wing of her father, Enishte Efendi, who tells him that he must work on a comprehensive book of pictures celebrating the magnificent world they live in, but in the "Frank" style, which is what they would refer to as European figurative painting.

This is where the story of the book intersects with the story of the two characters' love, because if Black wants Shekure, he must complete the book.

Due to the Islamic religion, figurative art is regarded as blasphemy, as, and I quote: "Islam allows to portray a picture as Allah sees it to be." In the context of this book, which is set in Istanbul in 1591, a year before the 1000th anniversary of the Hegira (Mohammed's exile from Mecca to Medina), Ottoman culture appears to have been influenced by this individual approach to art. They are not permitted to create things as they perceive them but rather as they should ideally and hypothetically be seen by their God, Allah. This European style that Black and others must work in is a blasphemous act, and therefore it is carried out in the utmost secrecy, always in fear of being discovered. It is this particular action that demonstrates how culture can be transformed by introducing a new perspective in art - in this case, in painting.

Speaking of painting: this entire book is perhaps one of the most comprehensive explanations of how art, and especially miniaturist painting here, has evolved. It discusses how it is the most crucial work possible, as it endures through the centuries and shows people what their history looked like. It talks about the miniaturist's blessing and curse, going blind towards the end of his life when he can paint more beautifully than ever because he sees through the eyes of his mind and soul. A detail, therefore, becomes the image, and the image becomes the detail, as they are so intertwined that they cannot be separated. And yet, with all the great human painters, time is the master of this art. A great deal of detailed work has been invested in this book, and the magnitude of the descriptions is rarely found in writing these days. Like Mo Yan, Pamuk rightfully deserves his 2006 Nobel Prize; his unique style is a bright thread through the fabric of life, culture, humanity, heart, mind, and soul of Creation, and he writes beautifully about what he deems important.

And there are numerous moments in this book that are pure delight for the attentive reader! It sometimes touches on how love can be a curse, a rope around the lover's neck, obliging him to tread lightly with silky footsteps around this dangerous animal of a feeling, and it sometimes speaks of love as if it is the noblest of emotions and the only paradise that man can aspire to. "My Name is Red" addresses issues such as marriage, sexual frustration, the dehumanization of the sexual act, how it can be just a mindless, empty moment rather than a union between two beings who love each other. It debates religion, spirituality, cultural identity, death, infinity, and so many other themes that most writers are not even capable of incorporating into their work, let alone attempting to explain them.

Another recommendation from my History teacher, and yet another one for which I am grateful to him. Cheers!