My name is Mohamed, and I regret not having given Pamuk a chance before. I had the idea that he was extremely pretentious, a classic to the point of being boring. I found that not to be true at all. In this novel, the Nobel-winning Turkish author seemed to me a creative writer based on the following:

1. He raised a highly personal topic that I wasn't interested in, yet he managed to arouse my curiosity and carry me through to the end of the novel.

2. He told the story from the perspectives of multiple characters. And this is the only novel I've found with such a large number of narrators: more than 10.

3. He didn't limit himself to human characters to tell the story but gave animals, objects, and ideas a voice to speak through, such as the horse, death, and the red pen that he chose as the title of the novel.

There's no doubt that the novel is long and of a certain density. There are certain ideas that the author insists on repeating with a kind of emotional weight. I'll mention the satire between the Western style of portraiture and the Turkish insistence on depicting people within the framework of a story. It's true that it's one of the main ideas of the novel, but the repetition in this way reminds you of the Ottoman military style of imposing orders.

One would expect the novel to have an exciting police aspect, but I didn't quite connect with it as I wasn't able to create independent entities for each of the three interlocutors, and I missed the important elements of the police work, which is the profiling of the criminal.

Overall, I think it's a novel worth reading, and I look forward to reading another work by Pamuk to have a clearer picture of him.

Generally, when a book commences with a chapter titled "I Am A Corpse," one can anticipate that it will be rather excellent.

The novel is configured in such a way that each chapter presents a distinct narrator, encompassing (but not restricted to) Black, Black's uncle, Shekure, a dog, a horse, the murderer, and diverse artists in the workshop. This kind of structure for a mystery novel is not novel - Wilkie Collins, for instance, utilized it several times, most显著 in The Moonstone - and it is an effective means to structure a story in order to conceal the identity of the culprit. Each character reveals only as much as he, she, or it知晓s, and in Pamuk's novel, even the murderer conceals his or her identity.

The structure in "My Name Is Red," however, is less intended to maintain suspense and more to permit space for the various philosophical discourses regarding the purpose of art and, perhaps more significantly, the differences between Islamic states and Western Europe. The Frankish mode of painting, particularly of portraiture - to glorify the subject, to depict him or her in terms of his/her worldly wealth and power, to distribute such an image openly as a display of control, to demonstrate the creative capabilities of the artist - lies at the core of these debates and discussions. Black's uncle finds such images alluring and captivating, while others view them as abhorrent. Master Osman, for example, perceives himself as being compelled to choose between the centuries-old Islamic traditions he reveres and the more modern and distinctly foreign style he loathes. Such a choice is not made easily, as the artists themselves discover. The Frankish method celebrates the individuation of the artist - it values the signature of the artist as much as the commissioner of the image. This veneration for the artist, as much as for the piece of art, proves to be a great temptation to the men involved and directly leads to the murder.

The structure, however, also enables a second discussion, not about art but about writing on art. As much as this is a novel concerning visual images, it is also a novel about ekphrasis - the verbal description of art. Ekphrasis has the effect of decelerating a narrative, of interrupting it. Thus, in Homer's Illiad, the great battle scene is suddenly interrupted by a lengthy description of Achilles' shield. Pamuk repeatedly plays with this model. When the image of the horse, described several times in the novel, is赋予its own voice, the narrative is not interrupted, but rather the description of the image becomes the narrative. And, moreover, as the image speaks, it refutes the fundamental principles underlying Master Osman's devotion to Islamic traditions of art. Pamuk can hardly resist the joke - this is a novel about art in which not a single image appears, except the map at the beginning and the ones we create in our minds as we envision the images described. But, are we creating an image of the ideal horse, the horse of God, or one we can actually touch, taste, and smell?

This started out amazingly. The first chapter is narrated by a dead man, Elegant Enfendi. Each chapter after that is narrated by someone indicated in a subtitle, including the protagonist (arguable) Black; his love interest since childhood/also his cousin Shekure; the other main miniaturists, nicknamed Butterfly, Olive, and Stork; the murderer (the main suspects are the other three miniaturists); Black's uncle/Shekure's father/the head miniaturist who was overseeing a secretive book requested by his grace the Sultan that led to this murder, Enishte Enfendi; Esther, the clothier, local gossip, and matchmaker on the side, one of my favorite personalities ("Does love make one a fool, or do only fools fall in love?"); a coin, a tree, the color red ("colors are not known, but felt"; try to explain a color to someone who has always been blind.

Does this all seem confusing? Well, it was. Definitely found myself needing to reread; reading a lot of beautiful words and passages, but then having to question what exactly it was that I read.

As the novel went on it became more and more philosophical, becoming more confusing as it went. Most of it was interesting, though drawn out. By the last hundred pages, I really lost interest and moved on to another book before coming back to finish reading this. Even then, it was a little bit of work.

One of the things I always love about Orhan Pamuk is how he "cameos" in most of his novels. Here, he is the younger son to Shekure, the one who likes Black, while his older brother has a loyalty to Shekure's first husband and their father, missing for years now.

Obviously there is a lot of history here; the Ottoman time period, accurately portrayed, even very well portrayed from what I understand. Time and setting are their own characters here. Most of it went over my head, as I am the first to admit that history is not my forte. A chronology from around 330 B.C. until 1617 is even included as an appendix.

I did like the ambiance of the novel, the feeling and transporting experience that Pamuk is always able to masterfully create. A world with Sultans and swords, gilded illustrations and beautiful books, secret bills and illuminated manuscripts, jinns and ghosts, gold coins and palaces, dark alleys and open air markets, murder and intrigue, love and war. There is constant mention of the ancient story of Hüsrev and Shirin, in particular a scene where she falls in love with him after seeing his picture, a frame having from a tree in the countryside.

I found interesting the method used by Master Osman to determine the murderer. In a painting of a horse they know to be by the hand of the murderer, they notice an irregularity on its nose. To locate this same irregularity again would be to locate the murderer. At least according to the "courtesan method", which would uncover the hidden signature of the artist, borne by a horse which has been drawn from memory through the quick and skillful movement of the hand. The theory goes that artists draw from memory (even when copying another painting, the artist is looking at his own painting and hand as he paints, so for those few seconds from looking from the other painting to his own, is still painting from memory), and therefore in something so subtle could not be prevented. "Even mediocre artists must know a genuine illustration isn't drawn according to what the eye sees at any particular moment, but according to what the hand remembers and is accustomed to. The painter is always alone before the page. Solely for this reason he is always dependent on memory."

Incorporated with the above is the belief first expressed by the great miniaturist Bihzad that the greatest illustrators would be granted blindness by Allah in their later years. Many of the miniaturist of the old style still look upon blindness as a great virtue of Allah's Grace, and may even sit for weeks in the darkness in the dim light in order to learn how to receive the world like a blind man, despite not truly being blind. Bizhad blinded himself in order to avoid being forced to paint like the Venetians. Master Osman does the same. Black blinds Olive, the murderer, before he escapes (then is subsequently murdered). This is an interesting concept to me, as I do see a great amount of validity in the idea that the best artist should be able to draw and paint blindly.

The main art philosophy discussed is how the miniaturists (illustrators are called miniaturists here) should be painting. Namely, the Ottoman way is to follow tradition, to not try to stand out. Painting without its story is impossible. "Style" is imperfection. A perfect one needs no signature. "Signature" and "Style" are but means of brazenly. The feared, "sinful" way is that of the French. The secret book (one painting especially) Enishte was in charge of, by request from The Sultan, was such a sin and was the cause of the murder and all the subsequent drama because 1) things were not depicted according to their importance in Allah's mind, but realistically, as they appeared to the naked eye; 2) The Sultan, The Caliph of Islam, was the same size as a pet; 3) Satan was also the same size, furthermore, in an endearing light; worst of all, 4) The Sultan, like the Christians and their idolatrous tendencies with their portraits, was as large as life and his face had full details!

Conclusion: Should have been a lot shorter. Has some great insights into Art Philosophy. Another great portrayal of the Turkish/Ottoman time period. Liked the metafiction/fourth wall aspects and Pamuk's cameo. Would have loved this if it were condensed.  

"Painting meant seeing this world yet depicting it as if it were the Otherworld."

" What we essentially want is to draw something unknown to us in all its shadowiness, not something known to us in all its illumination." (I disagree. I want something unknown to us in all its illumination. But something to think about.)

**** Spoilers ****

I guessed who the murderer was early on. One of the main clues for me was on Page 238.

Elegant Effendi believed that portraiture was the greatest of sins and it was because Olive was afraid he would reveal what they had all done (albeit unknowingly) for this secret book, shaming them all, that he died.

Aside from the art discussions, there is the story of protagonist Black. He had been in love with his cousin Shekure since they were young children. In fact, he left Turkey as a young teenager after being turned down by her on order to forget her. It is now right years later and he has returned from his world travels. Shekure had since married, but her husband went off to war and had yet to return. He did that his love for her had never died, and she has some for him (keyword "some". I never get the sender she truly loves him with any passion). In order to marry Black, she has to file for divorce by finding neighbors to pledge to her husband's death. I believe she is doing this for selfish reasons; because her husband's brother Hasan is determined to "keep" Shekure, almost as a slave. According to him, under the eyes of Allah, she belongs to him, the brother of a very much alive man who he has claimed for years will return very soon.

After the showdown amongst the illustrators, the murderer Olive stabs Black in the shoulder before his escape into the night; his plan is to board a ship the following morning. Hasan, mistaking him for one of Black's men who had abducted Shekure from his place in the middle of the night, murdered him before this could transpire. Black's wounds are not fatal, but does cause his shoulders to be uneven for the remainder of his life. As told by "I, Shekure" in the final chapter, he is depressed from then on; not, as most suspect, because of his neck that never completely heals. Shekure is not entirely sure why her husband black is depressed for the rest of his life, but I suspect it has to do with his loss of pride. It certainly does not help that her ex husband's brother Hasan was the one who killed Olive, the one deed Shekure had asked of him, to avenge her father's murderer. Shekure, in my opinion, never truly loves Black; is admittedly a little in love with Hasan.

The secret book with the sinful paintings, the book that started all these murders, was never finished.

I truly adored this book.

It is not only passionate and provocative but also highly intelligent. Surprisingly, it manages to bring the field of 16th-century miniaturist painting to bear on aesthetic and ethical issues that are of great urgency, especially for artists in today's world.

The main focus is on the concept of'style' in art. Is it desirable for an artist to have a personal style, or are traces of style merely evidence of flaws? In the process of exploring this question, we uncover an even more fundamental one: what exactly constitutes'style'?

The characters in the novel approach these questions philosophically. However, their positioning within the story enriches the account far beyond what a philosophical treatise on the subject could offer. The characters have their own views on style, yet at the same time, they are actors, and highly competitive ones at that. Any attempt to explain their actions based solely on their philosophical beliefs would be nothing more than theorizing.

Two murders and one wedding take place, along with diverse attempts by the participating characters to offer explanations that defy rational accounts of motivation.

Each chapter shifts the first-person narrative to a different character in the story, and some of them even hide their own voices while narrating. The opening chapter, 'I Am a Corpse', provides just the bold shock needed for a book on the seemingly genteel subject of miniature painting.

I hope to read the entire book again, among other reasons, to better understand the Middle Eastern history presented here from the perspective of Turkey.

In the 16th century Istanbul, a story begins with the voice of a corpse speaking from within a well. That story leads, many years later, to the return of the Black, the master who lost in the war, and his children, the city's best artists. The story tells of the horse and the dervish in the painting hung on the wall, and it tells of the sultan and his chief painter.

A book will be written describing the glories of the empire. Rejecting the ancient tradition, all the paintings there will be made in the European style, which is the sultan's concern. But since it is forbidden in religion, first there is resistance and then direct attacks begin on the artists. The murderer is lurking around the artists. How the murderer was found is what the story is about.

However, it is not the rise and fall of the story or the sparkle of the events that we should remember in Pamuk's description. With stories within stories, tales within tales, halls within halls, and history within history, Pamuk continuously takes us through his vision, yet never once does he take the reader away from the core of the main story. With a deeper insight, Pamuk continuously asks questions about the eternal gaze of man in the pages of the four-hundred-year-old Istanbul diary.

And, of course, we cannot forget to mention his amazing language. Like the autumn weather, his language is soft, yet in the story of passionate love or the moment of a breathless mystery, that language is delightful, inimitable, and, even without high walls, it can be held outside like the embrace of a flower tree.

Pamuk is, truly, a storyteller.

[For those interested, we have also included the detailed review: https://shuhanrizwan.com/2019/03/16/b...]

Our magazine
is proud to publish the spring which contains the noble verse of "Weil al-Mutaffifeen"

Exceptional and mind-boggling!!

This is truly a remarkable and astonishing situation. The events that have unfolded are nothing short of extraordinary.

The details are so astonishing that they leave one's mind reeling. It's as if we have entered a realm of the unimaginable.

Every aspect of this is exceptional, from the unexpected twists and turns to the sheer magnitude of what has occurred.

It's a story that will surely be talked about for a long time to come, captivating the minds of all who hear it.

The mind-boggling nature of it all makes it difficult to fully comprehend, but it's precisely this mystery that makes it so fascinating.

We can only stand in awe and wonder at the exceptional and mind-boggling events that have taken place.

Orhan Pamuk's novel is arguably one of the best.

Set in Istanbul during the height of Ottoman power, it not only pays tribute to the art of painting but also presents a captivating murder mystery that will grip you until the very end.

The unique narrative makes a powerful impact right from the beginning. As you read the first chapter, you are introduced to the voice of a corpse at the bottom of a well, wondering who the wretched man was that killed him.

What follows is a beautiful exploration of the 16th-century Istanbul art scene, with its numerous rivalries. Amidst all this, there is a heartfelt love story that keeps the main protagonist on his toes as he navigates the complex politics at home and at court.

This story is a fascinating example of the potential of modern global novels. It is a must-read for those interested in history, art, and mystery.

Overall, Orhan Pamuk has crafted a masterpiece that combines multiple elements to create a truly engaging and unforgettable reading experience.

One of the most beautiful, enjoyable, and mature novels that I have read in my life. I used to relish its lines as if I were reading poetry. With great skill, it managed to create a complex equation here. You don't just enjoy the light and frothy novelty. Instead, there is a brilliant depiction, amazing details, an excellent plot, a splendid description, and additional stories that you live with and enjoy for a long time. If I continued to write and write about the extent of my enjoyment and passion for this novel, these remaining words would never be enough for me. This is a novel that oozes pleasure from it...

It truly is a masterpiece that has left an indelible mark on my literary journey. The author's ability to craft such a rich and engaging world is truly remarkable. Every page is filled with vivid imagery and captivating prose that draws you in and keeps you hooked until the very end. I would highly recommend this novel to anyone who loves a good read and is looking for something that will transport them to another world.

‘My Name is Red’ by Orhan Pamuk is a captivating historical murder mystery. Its plot and post-modern construction of characters make it a unique literary work. The characters engage in philosophical discussions about Art, which adds depth to the narrative. It took me some time to realize that the main theme of this dense novel is the authoritarian control of the Arts in a 16th-century Muslim miniaturist community in Istanbul. I have always had a strong reaction to any form of authoritarian control, and this book was no exception.

As a historical novel, it is well-researched and provides a deep insight into the world of the Ottoman Empire in 1591. Each chapter is narrated by a different character, including a drawing, a coin, the color red, and even Satan. The chronological narration helps the reader follow the complex plot, which hinges on the religious philosophy of Islam towards the Arts. The debate over the correct religious way of drawing objects, especially in respect to Allah’s view, is a central point of contention. The introduction of the “Venetian style” of painting, with its use of perspective, causes heated arguments among the characters.

Pamuk skillfully uses each character to discuss the ongoing disputes about the ‘correct’ religious philosophy of Islam regarding painting and Art. Many of the characters take sides, and this often leads to violence. Superstitions and fears, such as those of ghosts, jinns, and curses, add to the chaos and confusion. The traditionalists argue that painting should only be based on memory from studying old decorated books, while the new vision advocates using one’s eyes to look at an object. This philosophical division between the old and new ways of painting is one of the main causes of the most intense fights.

Another source of extreme rage is the question of painting accurate portraiture of real people versus the traditional practice of painting fake faces with Chinese features for Arabian and Muslim people. Artists can also face severe consequences, such as being beaten into disability, if they sign a work of Art. All of these arguments revolve around the idea of respecting or displacing Allah in His supposed position as the Creator. The recognized Masters of miniaturist art sometimes start schools for apprentices, who can earn a good living by decorating books for rich folk and aristocrats. However, during the time of the novel, traditional Islamic miniaturists are losing commissions to those who are willing to paint in the new, still forbidden and illegal styles.

The Sultan Murat III hires a miniaturist, Enishte Effendi, to create art secretly for a book in the Venetian painter style. The worst part is that the Sultan wants his exact portrait in the center of the artwork, which is seen as usurping Allah’s place in creation. Word of this gets out, and another Master, Elegant Effendi, is murdered shortly after publicly announcing his religious philosophy towards the Venetian style. Meanwhile, Kara Black, Enishte Effendi’s nephew, returns to Istanbul after twelve years and still loves Shekure, his childhood love and his uncle’s daughter. Shekure is married, but her husband has been missing for four years, and under Islamic law, there are many hoops to jump through before she can be declared a widow. Once she is officially a widow, Hasan, the husband’s younger brother, intends to marry her. When Hasan becomes aware of Black’s interest in Shekure, he begins a campaign of harassment and accusations of heresy against Black.

The novel expresses a surprising amount of passionate emotions over religious philosophies about Art, which was a revelation for this western reader. Many of the characters seem to have extreme reactions to what I consider to be minor details of Art techniques. The religious assumptions about Allah’s feelings towards Art are treated as absolute facts, despite the fact that every Master has a different viewpoint. This attitude towards Art, similar to that of Plato, is completely asinine to me. Creativity is seen as a sin, and the only acceptable form of Art is to copy the supposed Permanent Models set by Allah. The book also includes many samples of romantic Middle-Eastern epics, poetry, and storytelling, which can overwhelm and overwrought the minds of the characters. In my opinion, modern consumers of media have become more immune to the power of stories and romance.

The book is a grand literary effort, but it is not an easy read. It may be due to the translation, or perhaps because of the dense mention of real life characters and famous illustrated texts. The constant discussion of arcane and foreign ideas about Art can be difficult to grasp at first. However, despite these challenges, the book is unquestionably a literary masterpiece. It offers a multi-dimensional exploration of Art and early Muslim culture, and no reader will come away without learning something new.

"Books which we mistake for consolation, only add depth to our sorrow." This statement holds a certain truth. Often, when we are in a state of sadness or distress, we turn to books hoping to find solace and comfort. However, sometimes, instead of alleviating our pain, the words and stories within the books can have the opposite effect.

We might identify too strongly with the characters and their tragedies, or the themes presented in the book might resonate with our own experiences in a way that intensifies our feelings of sadness. The very act of reading, which we thought would be a form of escape, can end up pulling us deeper into our own emotions.

Yet, it's important to note that this doesn't mean books are not valuable. They can still offer insights, perspectives, and a means of understanding our own emotions better. It's just that we need to approach them with a certain awareness and perhaps not rely on them solely for consolation. We should also seek other forms of support and self-care to truly deal with our sorrow.

I've spent a significant amount of time grappling with how to rate this book. On more than one occasion, it nearly ended up on my "May I please have these hours of my life back" shelf. The main reason for this is that it progresses at an excruciatingly slow pace. Additionally, for me, the level of detail that Pamuk incorporates turns into nothing more than a tiresome exercise.

However, there are certain parts of the story that are truly beautiful and masterfully written. For instance, the chapters told from the perspective of the color red or the horse in the painting are remarkable. These moments make me feel that my time wasn't completely wasted.

There are several reasons why this book was difficult for me. Firstly, the book moves at an incredibly sluggish pace. As best as I could estimate, all 400+ pages of "action" take place within approximately one week. Secondly, I found it utterly impossible to establish an emotional connection with the characters. Esther, who is a minor character, was the only one I found remotely interesting and would have liked to learn more about. And did I mention that it's really, really slow? It's like molasses in winter.

On the other hand, there are also reasons why this book is wonderful. Pamuk's writing is as lyrical as ever, which is a joy to read. Moreover, the cultural tension of being Turkish and the implications of Eastern and Western influences add depth to the story. This is something that my visit to Turkey has made me appreciate even more.

Would I re-read it? Absolutely not. Should this be your introduction to Pamuk? Again, the answer is no. Start with "Snow" or "Istanbul" instead. Anything but this. Is it worth reading? If you can endure the lack of momentum, then yes, it is definitely worth it.