Istanbul

This is Noble Prize winner Pamuk’s memoire about his native city. I read it with the hope of becoming more familiar with Islamic culture. In actuality I learned more about the author’s family life (multiple kinsfolk inhabiting one whole apartment building with whom he spent more time than with his parents, the father being often with another woman and the mother often absent in protest) than with Islam.

The Bosphorus is the leading character in his story. He loved the water and its traffic at all times and seasons. The degenerating old city he imbued with his own melancholy, tramping its streets night and day instead of going to school, memorizing every shop and building, mourning the faded glory of the Ottoman Empire, but absorbing details for the fabric of his novels. The many black and white photos of scenes gone by contribute to this dark tone.