As far as I remember, I had never read anything about Orhan Pamuk before. A few weeks ago, I saw a comment about a book regarding the service of books to our culture. So, with a bit of doubt and hesitation, I went to the list of books I wanted to read.

The story of the book takes place during the reign of Sultan Selim in Turkey. The fluent narrative and the reader as the interlocutor in the dialogue are always questioned. The superstitions and follies of the society of Istanbul at that time (I'm not saying the Muslim society because in many places there is an allusion to the superstitions of the Jews) made me angry again and again. During the narration of the story, the Ottomans are at war with the Safavids, and because of this, the situation of the treasury in the past few years is not very interesting. In the middle of this, the Ottoman society is getting closer to the European countries (either France or England), and thus the encounter of the culture and art of these two civilizations takes place. Throughout the book, I was involved with the concerns of the painters in the Ottoman court. What was interesting for me was that although it was a time of war with the Safavid state, nothing bad was said about the Persians.

The author's knowledge of Iranian art and culture was astonishing. As someone who has been doing painting for several years, I still read interesting things in the book that I didn't know.

Finally, what amazed me was that again and again, there was an allusion to the Shahnameh, Khosrow and Shirin, Lili and Majnun, and the poems of Saadi and other Iranian masterpieces (I know that Lili and Majnun is an Arab story), while there was no mention of Turkish works (language and literature that are completely foreign to us). Therefore, I doubted whether Turkish literature has fewer treasures from a historical perspective compared to us? Perhaps some friends who are studying can give me the answer to this question.

The last book was in 2017 and it was one of the best books of that year.

One doesn't simply say it's a letter just with the written words. A letter, just like a book, is also read by smelling it, touching it, and feeling it. That's why smart people say, "Let's read and see what the letter says." Even fools say, "Let's read and see what is written." Skill lies not only in reading the written words but in reading the entire letter.

Just like a letter, a book that has hidden its skill in "what it said" is My Name Is Red. Underneath a delicately crafted and embroidered plot lies a secret more important than it, perhaps the mystery of whether we can understand the importance of "what it said rather than what was written" along the way...

My fickle heart longs for the West when I'm in the East and for the East when I'm in the West. My other parts insist I be a woman when I'm a man and a man when I'm a woman. How difficult it is being human, even worse is living a human's life. I only want to amuse myself frontside and backside, to be Eastern and Western both.

This is Pamuk's enduring, never-ending obsession. He has written an abundance of works, including fiction and non-fiction, journal articles and newspaper bites, and has given countless interviews on this theme. He has even endured being thrown in jail and put on trial for the identity he has chosen. His commitment to expressing his deeply divided mind and spirit, and that of his country - Turkey, has earned him the Nobel Prize in Literature. (I apologize in advance if this ends up being a bit of a ramble through the literary bramble, but I can only say that that would mirror the experience of reading this book.)

"My Name is Red" presents itself as a murder mystery set in 16th century Istanbul under the rule of the Sultan. However, it is about much more than that. Each moment brings a fleeting change in the story's focus. The atmosphere of the story borrows a little from Garcia-Marquez's garden, but the storytelling is distinct. Each chapter is told from a different voice - some are plausible members of a storytelling round, while others seem almost otherworldly. But they all seem equally credible because in this world, nobody is truly reliable, and so everything can be seen as fiction or myth as much as fact. (For example, we hear from the voices of a drawing of a horse, the fake voice of a woman who is actually a man, a gold piece, and the color red.) It is ethereal and elusive, and there is no one incarnation of the mind that can be trusted. Don't assume that what you read has any connection to anything other than the particular psychology of the moment - Pamuk is a master at depicting the daily track of a mind and how unreliable each momentary feeling is. How everything important can change because one happens to feel hungry at a particular moment or desperately horny at another. It is an absolute masterpiece of insight into the psychology of a particular people at a particular time, and all the various reasons why they are the way they are. And yet, he manages to make them as relatable as possible.

What struck me the most throughout the entire book was Pamuk's apparent fear of missing something. While other authors might strive to be masters of literature or form, I think Pamuk wished he could be a master of tapestry-making. I think he would die happy if he could give this book to the theoretical Weaver in the sky and have it returned as a divine scrap of worked fabric. There are endless lists that go on for pages, only to stop and start again. As part of his contradictory feelings towards the West, in a culture whose stories and traditions often originated in the East, although he longs for the West, he is terrified, just like his characters, that everything they know from the East will disappear. It seems he can't stop himself - there is a driving fear that if he doesn't list everything about history, culture, and myth, and repeat all the stories again and again to ensure we remember, it will be gone forever. His expression of ambivalence towards Western culture perfectly captures the mindset of illuminators in 16th century Istanbul, terrified that their entire lives are about to become irrelevant.

The other absorbing, fascinating, and horrifying aspect was how well Pamuk illustrates the idea that absolutely nobody speaks with their own voice. This is shown through his painters, who are constrained by centuries of adherence to a perfect style that some random master brought out of Baghdad, depicting the "perspective of Allah." Having a "style" is considered heresy and a fault, and "signatures" are hidden away as much as possible. The idea that blindness is the ideal for these artists is heartbreaking - at least to someone from a Western perspective, where painters deliberately rob themselves of their sight, their most precious commodity, over and over again, in the pursuit of a meaningless idea of perfection that is not their own. The murderer in this book strives endlessly to hide himself by speaking in a voice that doesn't resemble how we see him in other places. The majority of people who are speaking tell stories to express their feelings - in fact, at the beginning, all the suspected illuminators speak almost entirely in story form to answer any important question on any philosophical, religious, or personal topic. Expressing one's feelings directly just isn't done. One doesn't go up to the person one desires and tell them so; instead, one tells them a parable about a gorgeous person to show admiration. Just as the pictures are seen as the "perspective of Allah," it seems there is only one way to speak, in the "words of Allah," or those stories sanctioned by the authorities as legitimate - the authority of Allah on earth. From a Western perspective, this was the ultimate tragedy of the book, but from the accepted ideas of the time, it was the ultimate triumph, with all these de-individualized people striving towards the goal of seeing as Allah does, always in the correct way.

But everyone recognizes the end of the "Eastern" way of life coming from the West, in the guise of the "Venetian" ways that everyone will want to slavishly follow in the future. Reactionary preachers and religious people are protesting against these ways even before they've made significant headway, trying to keep their way of life "pure." However, the rest of the book points out again and again that the culture of the Ottoman Empire was never pure in any way. No constantly conquering culture with a large army and a long reach could develop in isolation without any influence from the outside. He shows that globalization was already happening in the 16th century, and how deep its effects penetrate then and now.

I loved his "Istanbul" for its brilliant evocation of identity, living with a burdensome past and an uncertain future, for its poetry and its memory. "My Name is Red" accomplishes much the same thing, with more magic - but just enough dirt to bring it right home where it belongs in 2009.

My Name is Red is an enthralling historical fiction and mystery/thriller penned by Orhan Pamuk. Set during the Ottoman Empire in 1591 Istanbul, under the rule of Sultan Murat III, it showcases an enthusiastic revival of intellectual and creative pursuits, especially miniature painting. The sultan, a passionate patron of this art form, commissioned several books to be painted by the artists of the Ottoman court. One miniaturist describes his work thus: "I was responsible for painting and embellishing books. I illuminated the edges of pages, coloring their borders with the most lifelike designs of leaves, branches, roses, flowers and birds. I painted scalloped Chinese-style clouds, clusters of overlapping vines and forests of color that hid gazelles, galleys, sultans, trees, palaces, horses, and hunters."

The book's many chapters have different narrators. The first, in the voice of the murder victim whose smashed body lies in a deep well, immediately hooks the reader as he laments that his soul cannot pass over until his body is found. As we hear from various characters with diverse viewpoints and even inanimate objects like a tree erased from an art project, our interest is piqued, and we are drawn deeper into the mystery of a possible plot to murder the miniaturists. The rare snow in Istanbul sets an ominous tone: "Snow had already begun to accumulate on the rooftops facing north and on sections of the dome exposed to the northeasterly breeze. An approaching ship, whose sails were being lowered, greeted me with the flutter of canvas. The color of its sails matched the leaden and foggy hue of the surface of the Golden Horn. The cypress and plane trees, the rooftops, the heartache of dusk, the sounds coming from the neighborhood below, the calls of the hawkers and the cries of children crying in the mosque courtyards mingled in my head and announced emphatically that, hereafter, I wouldn't be able to live anywhere but in their city."

This book holds the reader's attention throughout, not only with the deepening mystery but also with a powerful love story and the beauty and power of art in various forms. The unfolding story is riveting, and the writing is awesome as the many intricate layers are revealed. I'll conclude with a powerful passage from the chapter by the color red, entitled I AM RED: "I appeared in Ghazni when Book of Kings poet Fidusi completed the final line of a quatrain with the most intricate of rhymes, besting the court poets of Shah Mahmud, who ridiculed him as being nothing but a peasant. I was there on the quiver of Book of Kings hero Rustem when he traveled far and wide in pursuit of his missing steed; I became the blood that spewed forth when he cut the notorious ogre in half with his wondrous sword; and I was in the folds of the quilt upon which he made furious love with the beautiful daughter of the king who'd received him as a guest. Verily and truly, I've been everywhere and am everywhere." "Color is the touch of the eye, music to the deaf, a word out of the darkness. Because I've listened to souls whispering--like the susurrus of the wind--from book to book and object to object for tens of thousands of years, allow me to say that my touch resembles the touch of angels. Part of me, the serious half, calls out to your vision while the mirthful half soars through the air with your glances." "I'm so fortunate to be red! I'm fiery. I'm strong. I know men take notice of me and that I cannot be resisted."

I love to read some critiques about this book after writing these few lines, but I'll briefly present these points now:

- I don't think we Iranians have written a novel that has served our culture and art to the extent of this work. Pamuk's problem in this novel is basically the identity of Iranian art, and he himself refers several times in the work that the Ottomans didn't have anything valuable compared to the works of the artists of Qazvin and Herat. It's very strange that we ourselves haven't created such a novel until now. A novel like Mortaza Karbalaei's "The Weaver of Qali" is not bad in terms of presence, but it has no depth in terms of research compared to this work.

- I don't know why Pamuk decided to be basically "accentless" in writing this novel. I think he was lazy. When you have all these characters, you should design a specific accent for each of them to speak. Your father comes. Every sentence he wants to say should pass through the purity of that accent. But the easier way is to say that the listener is hearing the voices of the minds of my characters, and do people's minds have an accent?! All people are full of words and nonsense in their minds. But not Mr. Pamuk. You ruined your own work.

- We Iranians are not tired of all these details that are said about Iranian painting art, and we even appreciate them, but in my opinion, what has made the volume of the novel so large and full of details is useless. If we don't want to say useless, at least we can say that the author is not looking for the most concise way of expression.

- And the saddest thing is the bad translation and the strange imitation that I just realized how much it has brought in the voices of professional speakers.

I wasn't anticipating to have such a great liking for it, yet I did. Truly, it's not a straightforward book to peruse.

The writing style is so smooth and seamless that it draws you in effortlessly. I was really fond of the structure of the book. It has chapters presented from diverse points of view (POVs). Some of these POVs show up only once, while others make multiple appearances. There are also some that are extremely non-conformist and original, which adds a unique flavor to the story.

I had a desire to read more about Istanbul and the life during those times. In the story, it is set in 1595, but previous periods are also referred to. However, this would be my sole 'complaint'.

P.S. I adored the ending. It's where the author skillfully merges fiction with reality, creating a truly captivating and thought-provoking conclusion that leaves a lasting impression on the reader.

Overall, despite its challenges, this book is a remarkable piece of literature that I would highly recommend to others.

"My Name Is Red" is the most famous novel by Orhan Pamuk, which brought him to a high position in world literature and led to his winning the Nobel Prize in 2006. This novel has been translated into many languages.

The events of the novel take place in Istanbul, the capital of the Ottoman Sultanate, during the sixteenth century. Orhan explores the conflict between authenticity and modernity, and the conflict between the technical schools in the East and the West under an important historical umbrella in terms of Islamic plastic art. Through presenting the world of Islamic miniaturist art and its schools and development over the generations from Herat to Tabriz to Istanbul.

What distinguishes this novel is its mixture of the police, historical, and religious novel, as it also has some elements of the autobiography. The novel reflects some details of Orhan Pamuk's childhood through the names of the characters mentioned in the novel. "Shukran" is the real name of his mother, "Shokut" is his older brother... and "Orhan". In addition, it delves into some philosophical topics such as the issue of "blindness" which is discussed as evidence of its greatness and subtlety in his work because the image and colors have become engraved in his memory. It also addresses many questions about death and what comes after death.

"My Name Is Red" is undoubtedly a mysterious novel, even highly mysterious. From its first page, Orhan Pamuk attracts you. The first lines of the novel begin with the crime, "I am now dead, a corpse in a grave." We are surprised that there is a "corpse" speaking. And the narrator is the murdered person himself, "Effendi Zülfikar." He speaks to us from the depths of the grave after becoming a praised corpse. But he does not tell us about his killer or the reason for his killing. This task is taken on by the narrator of the second chapter of the novel, "Mr. Qara."

The novel consists of fifty-nine chapters, and each chapter is narrated by a different person from his personal point of view. Sometimes the narrator is (a good person, or a dog, or a single tree, or just a piece of money, or the color red itself, which gives the novel its name as its title is derived from the color red, which is the most used color in Islamic miniature art).

"How happy I am that I am red, my interior is boiling. I am strong. I realize that I am unique, and that you cannot resist me... to paint a beautiful pattern and to give a painting in black and white full of my strength and vitality. A beautiful feeling makes me tremble with joy as I spread on the paper with the softness of a cat's fur. And this is how I feel when I color, as if I am saying to that world: "Be: The world becomes my bloody color. Whoever does not see denies, but I am present everywhere. Life begins with me, and everything ends with me. Believe that it is with me."

Based on Orhan Pamuk's narrative and novelistic construction, the novel presents in a new, different, and innovative format, highlighting his creativity in the narrative of the intertwined events in their relationship with the different characters with great skill.

The novel also deals with the interpretation of Islamic miniature art through presenting several definitions of the miniature. Sometimes the miniature is "a pleasure for the eye" or it is "the silence of the mind and the music of the eye" or the miniature is the search for the divine vision of the world. The novel also contains a huge amount of details and cultural information about Islamic art by shining a light on the different arts in some Arab cities such as Baghdad, Aleppo, and Damascus, in addition to referring in more than one place to many works such as "Shahnameh" and the books of Ghazali and Ibn al-Jawzi, and the story of "Khosrow and Shirin" by Nizami.

And the story of Majnun Layla...

In this context, Orhan Pamuk presents many intellectual, cultural, and historical topics during this period. He explores many stories of love, envy, hatred, and interests among the disputants of Islamic miniatures in the Ottoman court. And in the midst of this huge amount of details, all of that remains within the events of the novel in terms of the murder crime that will remain mysterious until its mystery is solved at the end of the novel, and the love story between Qara and Shukran that will end somewhat happily as Shukran tells us in the last part of the novel:

"I told this story that cannot be drawn to my son Orhan, perhaps he will write it. And I took out of my chest the letters that Qara and Hasan sent to me, and the drawing of the decaying horse with his ink that was with the poor Effendi Zülfikar and I gave it to him. He is nervous and temperamental and always grieves, and he is not afraid to wrong those he does not love. Therefore, if Qara offered more than his share, and the pictures of our lives are harder, and Shokut is worse, beware of believing Orhan because there is no lie that he will not present to make his story beautiful and we believe it."

In the end, "My Name Is Red" is a literary, intellectual, and spiritual gem. The novel is undoubtedly worthy of being read and read many times.

This novel is truly magical. It has left me in awe since I started reading it until now. And I wish everyone a pleasant time with the pages of this precious artistic gem, which is rich in the mystery of history and art.

I am Shekure, the most beautiful and desired woman in Istanbul. Everyone desires to have me, and I am determined to find a new husband before my old father passes away, seeking protection and financial stability. Life for a woman in 16th century Istanbul is arduous. There is a slave girl in my house whom my old father has relations with, and an old fat Jewish matchmaker, but who really cares about them?

I'm Black and I'm deeply in love. Obviously, with Shekure.

I'm Shekure's papa, crusty and old. I'm intrigued by the infidel Venetian art of painting and have been commissioned to create a book of illustrations for our Magnificent Sultan in the western individualistic style.

We're Stork, Olive, and Butterfly. One of us is a murderer. Also, damn the westerners. It's all about tradition, never leaving a trace in the art and going blind while painting miniatures.

I'm an ebook of "My Name is Red" that Nastya obtained for free on Amazon due to the sale and her Amazon credit for digital purchases. She was also curious about Pamuk, the bigshot in Turkish literature.

I'm an iPad that Nastya is reading this story on. Now I see her eyes fix on the progress percentage, which isn't moving fast enough. And I detect sadness in her eyes.

I'm Nastya, and while I appreciate the richness of the world, I can't help but wonder. For a book with no captivating characters and not much happening, why is it almost 700 pages long? Should I care who the murderer is? I'll give it a try.

In conclusion, this book was elusive. It was occasionally a charming portrayal of the end of an era in Turkish art but mostly dissatisfying. I struggled to invest in any character, was only moderately entertained by the gold coin's and devil's monologues, and never had an interest in the murderer. I could only manage to read 200 pages and had to take long breaks in between to combat the monotony.

This book really deserves more than just 5 points.

Orhan Pamuk is indeed one of the outstanding writers of our era.

The narrative style and language of the book are extremely engaging and attractive, and the expression of his views and the innovation in presenting things are very successful.

It not only has the value of being read, but also has the value that every individual should have it in their library.

If I were to choose the blue flower of my library, without a doubt, along with the masterpieces of Saadi and Homer Longley, this book would also be there!!!!!!!!!!!

Overall, this book is a remarkable work that combines literary excellence with profound insights, making it a must-read for any lover of literature. It has the power to transport readers to different worlds and make them think deeply about various aspects of life and human nature.

Well, I find myself fence sitting on this one.

The overwhelmingly positive reviews from my fellow readers truly make me the outlier.

For me, it was a complex and demanding read. It had its moments of appeal, yet it was also repetitive and at times, the detail was numbing. Normally, I find detailed descriptions appealing, but in this case, the details of the miniatures somehow overshadowed the miniatures as a whole. I wasn't able to extract as much from them as I had hoped.

Had it not been for a couple of days off work due to a cold, I would have likely struggled more with this 670-page book of dense text. It's a larger investment than I'm often willing to make, considering there are so many other books waiting for my attention. In my view, it could have benefited from a more rigorous edit to reduce the page count without sacrificing the story.

However, I thought the conclusion wrapped up much quicker than necessary. Without giving away any spoilers, the story of Master Osman and the Sultan's enquiry into the murder was left unresolved, with only a brief mention.

I'm usually a fan of stories within stories, but in this case, I found most of them to be a distraction. Although I understand the reason for their inclusion in the narrative, the formulaic three fables thing added to the tedium for me as I read.

So, as you can see, I didn't love this novel. I do think it was masterfully crafted, with its continually changing perspective and some excellent aspects. But for me, it was just too long and drawn out.

Based on this, I give it a solid 3 stars.

It is truly inevitable to draw comparisons between My Name is Red and The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco. After all, the author Orhan Pamuk had stated that this book was inspired by Eco's masterpiece. The Name of the Rose was filled with copious amounts of information regarding Christianity in medieval Europe. Naturally, I approached this book with the anticipation of uncovering a wealth of details about Islam in Turkey. However, this was not the case. Instead, the story delved more deeply into the paintings of the Islamic world, the calligraphers, the miniaturists, and the gilders. In a sense, it was quite interesting. There was also a murder mystery lurking in the background. But this is not your typical murder mystery book. The story often wanders and meanders into the world of famous Islamic master miniaturists and their magnificent paintings and illuminations. I, for one, didn't mind this at all. However, some readers may find this digression to be a hindrance, slowing down the pace of the book and perhaps even putting them off. So, it is advisable to read this book at your own discretion. Finally, I would like to conclude by stating that while this book is quite good, The Name of the Rose is, in my opinion, much better.

‘To God belongs the East and the West’ – Al-Qur’an, Al Baqarah ayat 115.

I had abandoned My Name is Red for a long time. I couldn't remember exactly how long. The brilliance of the novel remained untouched, which was such a shame. However, after reading Other Colours (an amazing essay collection also by Orhan Pamuk), I decided to give Mr. Pamuk another chance. And boy, was I glad I did! I thoroughly enjoyed the novel and understood why Pamuk deserves the Nobel prize. He is a writer who can bring out the cultural richness while promoting world peace.

My Name is Red is a brightly rich novel. The main plot is a murder mystery of a miniaturist in Turkey. What makes this novel different is that Pamuk mixes it with other interesting elements: a passionate love story, devotion to art, and the cultural clash between the East and the West. At first, I didn't think the love story was significant enough, but it turns out that the love conflict plays an important role in the ending.

Still not interested? Well, let's see. Inspired by Virginia Woolf, Pamuk loves to create an unusual plotline. The story is told from many points of view, not only from the perspective of humans but also from unliving things like a gold coin and a corpse. In fact, it is the corpse that opens the story. Now you can't call it ordinary, can you? Pamuk even gives the murderer a chance to speak. This technique might tire some readers, but it provides a thrilling experience until the end.

The only thing that bothered me a little was the last chapter of Shekure. I personally think the chapter wasn't strong enough to close the novel. If I were Pamuk, I would have closed it from Master Osman's point of view. I wanted to know his reaction after learning who the killer was. But overall, My Name is Red is a splendid work of art. I just hope no one will make a film of it because I truly believe it won't be able to capture the magnificence of this novel.