What a fantastic review! I'd seen this title before and briefly noted it, but now you've really piqued my interest. Selling more copies than Orhan Pamuk. Wow. I have a longstanding fascination with Turkish culture and literature, even if my attempts at learning the language have all failed miserably. (I signed up for a Turkish class in college and ended up being the dumb blonde eg the one girl in the class who didn't already speak a Turk-ic adjacent language. I'll always remember the polyglot who sat next to me and proclaimed, "F*ck! I always get this confused with my Azerbaijani!" Me too, girl. Me too. And here I thought my French was impressive.) Anyway, I still harbor dreams of Istanbul.
On a language level, the '40s in Turkish lit must have been fascinating. I've always been intrigued by the language's mandated switch from Arabic Script to Latin circa 1929. (Law on the Adoption and Implementation of the Turkish Alphabet.) Imagine waking up in the morning and The New York Times is written in Arabic script. An incredibly powerful tool for rendering entire generations illiterate and infusing new ones with a different cultural identity.
Anyway, I wish Ali would have escaped safely. What a loss.
Somewhat related, if you find yourself eager for more Turkish lit in Translation, one of my Substacker friends (Oleg, from Fictitious) recently introduced me to Barış Bıçakçı. We've been corresponding about his book "The Mosquito Bite Author." It's a quick read and, perhaps relatably, filled with reflections of a writer who's anxiously trying to pass the time as he waits on a response from his editor. One of the most delightful things I've read in awhile.
Can't wait to pick up your new book and delighted to have discovered you here on Substack!
I have not read Ali’s novel yet (always meant to) and now you have given me the final push to get hold of this translation! Thank you!
One of my favorite novels about language, migration, and identity is “The Lost Word” by Oya Baydar, a Turkish sociologist and writer. I think it’s the only one of her novels in English translation. Main character is an Istanbul writer who travels to the Kurdish east of the country, which is completely foreign for him. There are parallel story lines with his son in Scandinavia, his wife traveling in Europe, all about what it means to be the outsider culturally and linguistically. It takes a while to get going (translation maybe?), but is then quite compelling.
I am listening to it on Audible, and the protagonist has recently arrived in Berlin and first seen Maria's self-portrait in the museum. I was intrigued by this main character being a masterful German-Turkish translator, and just happened upon this tidbit from an article about which language has the most words: "The Turkish language is similar to German in this way. Turkish not only crams words together but does so in ways that make whole, meaningful sentences. 'Were you one of those people whom we could not make into a Czechoslovak?' translates as one word in Turkish." So I wonder whether this has anything to do with why Turks form a large body of immigrant workers to Germany - is it less intimidating to learn than say, French? Also, I wonder if the translation is missing some richness because of the nature of Turkish.
I also found one "off" observation. The young narrator observes: "Like all women, she forgot things instantly" (or similar wording.) Not at all my experience, rather the opposite!
Also, the way the story within a story is set up reminds me of Maugham, who does a similar thing in almost every one of his short stories.
I’d heard of that one-word sentence! I think it may be the longest word in the Turkish language if I’m not mistaken. The Turkish language does seem quite similar to German grammatically; the lower language barrier would make sense for immigration.
I don’t know whether written translations from Turkish lose their richness, but I do remember listening to Erdogan speak once as an undergraduate and pitying the simultaneous interpreter. Because verbs come at the end of sentences in Turkish, he had to wait until long phrases were complete to fully grasp what was being said before he could convey it in English.
Hate to burst any bubbles, but: no, Turkish and German are not grammatically similar. They both have long words that cram more than one thing together, but so does Hungarian (amirite Rebecca?) and knowing one by does not make learning the other easier. Unless you are the sort of person who loves language puzzles.
(Spoiler: I am bilingual English-German, and spent a year working in Istanbul, which included an intensive language course.)
And the immigration theory: no. First of all, in classic immigration models, people tend to go where they already know someone. The US is full of such examples: the Irish in Boston, Portuguese in Rhode Island, all of Central Europe in Chicago, etc. German immigration policy of the past 60 years made it very attractive to Turks precisely because they did *not* have to integrate (and for most of that time, were actively discouraged from doing so-- Germany assuming their “guest workers” were going to go home eventually.) Imagine being able to move to another country where you can get a job that feeds your family, you already know people, you can buy the same foods as at home, can live in a neighborhood where everyone speaks your language; it’s safe and secure (no military coups, no midnight knocking on the door), public services work and even without bribes, you and your family have a higher standard of living and can even send money home. Why not? And the patriarchal nature of rural Turkish society-- immigrants to Germany did not come from the urban, educated elite-- meant that the women who migrated stayed at home with the family in Germany too, never needing to learn the language (and crucially, not preparing their kids to live in a German environment). Plus: nationalistic Turkish law reserves many rights, such as being able to inherit property, for its citizens only. And with Germany not allowing dual citizenship (until very, very recently), there was zero incentive for Turkish immigrants to ever naturalize. Thus their children (and grandchildren) born in Germany are also not German.
Currently Germany is going through a hard reckoning with itself, having finally looked around and realized it is a land of immigrants. Unfortunately it is also a land of parallel societies, which is what happens when you let enclaves flourish for a few generations without ever intervening... because they’re not like us and are going to leave soon anyway. it’s a bit like the US with its Spanish speakers, except that the US has at least always understood itself to be made by immigrants. Germany never has. Regular white ethnic Germans are becoming a minority in their own land, and it is fascinating to watch. We are in for some turbulent decades of re-definition. Thank you for attending my TED talk. 😜
The linguistic theory was a bit far fetched, I admit, so my bubble was ripe for bursting, although I would be curious to know if the recent influx of Arabic-speaking Syrians find learning German any more/less daunting than the Turks who have learned it did. The "verb at the end" grammar that often also exists in German might make the grammar as a whole at little more friendly. I also don't know if Arabic or Turkish also has declensions - I know that can be intimidating for Americans (and French and Spanish etc.) learning German. Growing up with a Latin teacher for a Mom, I had some home tutoring about that, which made that aspect of German (just 2 semesters) less impenetrable.
I made the mistake once of volunteering to interpret for a French professor giving an extremely esoteric, academic lecture with a level of literary jargon that I would have been hard put to understand in English, so I feel for that Erdogan interpreter.
Also watched "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy: Germany" and at least two of the hosts were of Turkish origin. Their coming out process is as tendentious as that of Bible-belt born Americans. They are of the new generation more comfortable in German than Turkish, and unsurprising, adopting the cultural mores of Germany.
I've learned so much from you both! Thank you for bursting that bubble and providing that insight, Caroline. I was indeed thinking "long complicated sentence/words," as well as "verb at the end." I've yet to study German, clearly. But I did learn I have German family recently thanks to Ancestry.com! And so that's on the to-do list this year, at the urging of my adorable German niece. (Who is perfectly fluent in American English thanks to TikTok.)
Mark, I can only imagine the stress of interpreting that lecture!! There are many things I've listened to in French that ... well, I understand, more or less, but I'd need quite awhile to reiterate it properly. Written translation is one thing. Interpretation is a different game entirely.
This might be my favorite so far (I've probably said that already, though, and will likely keep repeating myself). It's a beautifully rounded character study, with a big cast of minor, eccentric characters in the first 48 pages who all fade away as the narrator begins to read Raif Bey's notebook. Without that long introduction I guess the love story could stand alone, but the envelope structure seems to breathe some air into the intensity, gives it depth and perspective. I most love Maria's monologue/manifesto about her understanding of what men want from her, and her desire to keep her relationship with Raif platonic (p. 114-16).
Rebecca, have you solidified the list of 84 books? I'm hoping you'll somehow hit Armenia on the way back to Hungary. Our son's boyfriend is Armenian and we've heard so much about the country's tragic history with Turkey. I don't think there's a lot to choose from, but perhaps by the time you're rounding the finish line there will be! https://electricliterature.com/we-need-to-translate-more-armenian-literature/
What I liked about this book is its sheer originality. I feel sure the affair happened, although the final twist feels tacked on. What I did find strange and a missed opportunity was that Maria, as an artist, except for the self-portrait, is completely unexplored. She plays the violin at the Atlantic, and takes long walks and eats lunches with Rafi during the day; I kept waiting for her to go to a studio, to assert to him that this was at the center of her existence, for each painting to be an obsessive venture, the one thing that Rafi cannot compete with and is jealous of. How could she make one marvelous painting and not seem at all driven to make more?
I also thought it would have been more true-to-life if time had induced a getting-over-her in him as the years passed. We all have had great, wounding first loves we thought we'd never get over, but we almost always do - often to our great surprise. The way he sweeps his eventual wife and actual daughters into inconsequentiality bothered me. Parenthood tends to crack open the hardest emotional nut. Only when Maria is the eventual mother does he seemed moved by it.
But I see that Ali structured it as a mystery, the answer to the question of what explains Rafi's strange life, his seeming willingness to be abused by his family and boss. Within that structure, it was more successful than not. The audiobook narrator was excellent. (As was your interview with Julia Whelan).
What a fantastic review! I'd seen this title before and briefly noted it, but now you've really piqued my interest. Selling more copies than Orhan Pamuk. Wow. I have a longstanding fascination with Turkish culture and literature, even if my attempts at learning the language have all failed miserably. (I signed up for a Turkish class in college and ended up being the dumb blonde eg the one girl in the class who didn't already speak a Turk-ic adjacent language. I'll always remember the polyglot who sat next to me and proclaimed, "F*ck! I always get this confused with my Azerbaijani!" Me too, girl. Me too. And here I thought my French was impressive.) Anyway, I still harbor dreams of Istanbul.
On a language level, the '40s in Turkish lit must have been fascinating. I've always been intrigued by the language's mandated switch from Arabic Script to Latin circa 1929. (Law on the Adoption and Implementation of the Turkish Alphabet.) Imagine waking up in the morning and The New York Times is written in Arabic script. An incredibly powerful tool for rendering entire generations illiterate and infusing new ones with a different cultural identity.
Anyway, I wish Ali would have escaped safely. What a loss.
Somewhat related, if you find yourself eager for more Turkish lit in Translation, one of my Substacker friends (Oleg, from Fictitious) recently introduced me to Barış Bıçakçı. We've been corresponding about his book "The Mosquito Bite Author." It's a quick read and, perhaps relatably, filled with reflections of a writer who's anxiously trying to pass the time as he waits on a response from his editor. One of the most delightful things I've read in awhile.
Can't wait to pick up your new book and delighted to have discovered you here on Substack!
En iyi dileklerimle,
Alicia
R: Great review, sent this to a friend who makes (moyen orient) soaps, in Lebanon. What a find. This is fun.
I have not read Ali’s novel yet (always meant to) and now you have given me the final push to get hold of this translation! Thank you!
One of my favorite novels about language, migration, and identity is “The Lost Word” by Oya Baydar, a Turkish sociologist and writer. I think it’s the only one of her novels in English translation. Main character is an Istanbul writer who travels to the Kurdish east of the country, which is completely foreign for him. There are parallel story lines with his son in Scandinavia, his wife traveling in Europe, all about what it means to be the outsider culturally and linguistically. It takes a while to get going (translation maybe?), but is then quite compelling.
I am listening to it on Audible, and the protagonist has recently arrived in Berlin and first seen Maria's self-portrait in the museum. I was intrigued by this main character being a masterful German-Turkish translator, and just happened upon this tidbit from an article about which language has the most words: "The Turkish language is similar to German in this way. Turkish not only crams words together but does so in ways that make whole, meaningful sentences. 'Were you one of those people whom we could not make into a Czechoslovak?' translates as one word in Turkish." So I wonder whether this has anything to do with why Turks form a large body of immigrant workers to Germany - is it less intimidating to learn than say, French? Also, I wonder if the translation is missing some richness because of the nature of Turkish.
I also found one "off" observation. The young narrator observes: "Like all women, she forgot things instantly" (or similar wording.) Not at all my experience, rather the opposite!
Also, the way the story within a story is set up reminds me of Maugham, who does a similar thing in almost every one of his short stories.
I’d heard of that one-word sentence! I think it may be the longest word in the Turkish language if I’m not mistaken. The Turkish language does seem quite similar to German grammatically; the lower language barrier would make sense for immigration.
I don’t know whether written translations from Turkish lose their richness, but I do remember listening to Erdogan speak once as an undergraduate and pitying the simultaneous interpreter. Because verbs come at the end of sentences in Turkish, he had to wait until long phrases were complete to fully grasp what was being said before he could convey it in English.
Hate to burst any bubbles, but: no, Turkish and German are not grammatically similar. They both have long words that cram more than one thing together, but so does Hungarian (amirite Rebecca?) and knowing one by does not make learning the other easier. Unless you are the sort of person who loves language puzzles.
(Spoiler: I am bilingual English-German, and spent a year working in Istanbul, which included an intensive language course.)
And the immigration theory: no. First of all, in classic immigration models, people tend to go where they already know someone. The US is full of such examples: the Irish in Boston, Portuguese in Rhode Island, all of Central Europe in Chicago, etc. German immigration policy of the past 60 years made it very attractive to Turks precisely because they did *not* have to integrate (and for most of that time, were actively discouraged from doing so-- Germany assuming their “guest workers” were going to go home eventually.) Imagine being able to move to another country where you can get a job that feeds your family, you already know people, you can buy the same foods as at home, can live in a neighborhood where everyone speaks your language; it’s safe and secure (no military coups, no midnight knocking on the door), public services work and even without bribes, you and your family have a higher standard of living and can even send money home. Why not? And the patriarchal nature of rural Turkish society-- immigrants to Germany did not come from the urban, educated elite-- meant that the women who migrated stayed at home with the family in Germany too, never needing to learn the language (and crucially, not preparing their kids to live in a German environment). Plus: nationalistic Turkish law reserves many rights, such as being able to inherit property, for its citizens only. And with Germany not allowing dual citizenship (until very, very recently), there was zero incentive for Turkish immigrants to ever naturalize. Thus their children (and grandchildren) born in Germany are also not German.
Currently Germany is going through a hard reckoning with itself, having finally looked around and realized it is a land of immigrants. Unfortunately it is also a land of parallel societies, which is what happens when you let enclaves flourish for a few generations without ever intervening... because they’re not like us and are going to leave soon anyway. it’s a bit like the US with its Spanish speakers, except that the US has at least always understood itself to be made by immigrants. Germany never has. Regular white ethnic Germans are becoming a minority in their own land, and it is fascinating to watch. We are in for some turbulent decades of re-definition. Thank you for attending my TED talk. 😜
The linguistic theory was a bit far fetched, I admit, so my bubble was ripe for bursting, although I would be curious to know if the recent influx of Arabic-speaking Syrians find learning German any more/less daunting than the Turks who have learned it did. The "verb at the end" grammar that often also exists in German might make the grammar as a whole at little more friendly. I also don't know if Arabic or Turkish also has declensions - I know that can be intimidating for Americans (and French and Spanish etc.) learning German. Growing up with a Latin teacher for a Mom, I had some home tutoring about that, which made that aspect of German (just 2 semesters) less impenetrable.
I made the mistake once of volunteering to interpret for a French professor giving an extremely esoteric, academic lecture with a level of literary jargon that I would have been hard put to understand in English, so I feel for that Erdogan interpreter.
Also watched "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy: Germany" and at least two of the hosts were of Turkish origin. Their coming out process is as tendentious as that of Bible-belt born Americans. They are of the new generation more comfortable in German than Turkish, and unsurprising, adopting the cultural mores of Germany.
I've learned so much from you both! Thank you for bursting that bubble and providing that insight, Caroline. I was indeed thinking "long complicated sentence/words," as well as "verb at the end." I've yet to study German, clearly. But I did learn I have German family recently thanks to Ancestry.com! And so that's on the to-do list this year, at the urging of my adorable German niece. (Who is perfectly fluent in American English thanks to TikTok.)
Mark, I can only imagine the stress of interpreting that lecture!! There are many things I've listened to in French that ... well, I understand, more or less, but I'd need quite awhile to reiterate it properly. Written translation is one thing. Interpretation is a different game entirely.
Btw, Arabic and Turkish both have declensions, (I need to google before I post, don't I.)
&, in advance, best wishes on Pub Day to the writer who used " troglodytic," from my word list, before I found the right slot. "Cacchinate," is next.
Thank you for these recommendations! Looking forward to reading. (And I've pre-ordered your book too!)
Book of the Week in People? Daaaaamn. :)
This might be my favorite so far (I've probably said that already, though, and will likely keep repeating myself). It's a beautifully rounded character study, with a big cast of minor, eccentric characters in the first 48 pages who all fade away as the narrator begins to read Raif Bey's notebook. Without that long introduction I guess the love story could stand alone, but the envelope structure seems to breathe some air into the intensity, gives it depth and perspective. I most love Maria's monologue/manifesto about her understanding of what men want from her, and her desire to keep her relationship with Raif platonic (p. 114-16).
Rebecca, have you solidified the list of 84 books? I'm hoping you'll somehow hit Armenia on the way back to Hungary. Our son's boyfriend is Armenian and we've heard so much about the country's tragic history with Turkey. I don't think there's a lot to choose from, but perhaps by the time you're rounding the finish line there will be! https://electricliterature.com/we-need-to-translate-more-armenian-literature/
What I liked about this book is its sheer originality. I feel sure the affair happened, although the final twist feels tacked on. What I did find strange and a missed opportunity was that Maria, as an artist, except for the self-portrait, is completely unexplored. She plays the violin at the Atlantic, and takes long walks and eats lunches with Rafi during the day; I kept waiting for her to go to a studio, to assert to him that this was at the center of her existence, for each painting to be an obsessive venture, the one thing that Rafi cannot compete with and is jealous of. How could she make one marvelous painting and not seem at all driven to make more?
I also thought it would have been more true-to-life if time had induced a getting-over-her in him as the years passed. We all have had great, wounding first loves we thought we'd never get over, but we almost always do - often to our great surprise. The way he sweeps his eventual wife and actual daughters into inconsequentiality bothered me. Parenthood tends to crack open the hardest emotional nut. Only when Maria is the eventual mother does he seemed moved by it.
But I see that Ali structured it as a mystery, the answer to the question of what explains Rafi's strange life, his seeming willingness to be abused by his family and boss. Within that structure, it was more successful than not. The audiobook narrator was excellent. (As was your interview with Julia Whelan).
Pre-ordered!