My Name Is Red
by Orhan Pamuk
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Book Reviews of My Name Is Red
Book Review: East and West....Will the twain eventually ever meet?
Summary: 5 Stars
Set in Istanbul, Turkey, (1574-95) during the reign of the Ottoman Empire, the novel opens with a master miniaturist, Elegant Effendi, freshly murdered and his soul lingering in the after-life as he openly reflects on this ethereal after-life.
Meanwhile, Enishte Effendi, who, under the Sultan's decree, has assigned a highly secret and dangerous job to a few of his most talented artists, is reading Book of the Soul.
Book of the Soul deals with the subject of the Islamic understanding of life after death according to the Koran, the Sunna, and the doctrine of the Salaf and the Four Imams. It holds that the dead can hear the living and know of them. Pamuk uses this to cleverly move the narration forward, speaking from the grave and even sometimes as inanimate objects.
This part pedantic, part uniquely ingenious novel has to be read slowly and with close attention, as Pamuk packs a wallop in his dense narrative style....think textures and intricate patterns of rare Persian carpets with the blinding rich palettes of bright lush colors!
MNIR tells us that the Renaissance introduced a way of seeing art that challenged the miniaturists and illuminators that served Allah.
The Turkish portraits of Sultans following the Renaissance were inferior and flimsy copies, poor imitations of the European Frankish style.
The miniaturists in this novel gradually come to realize that they are the last of their kind.
Black, the maternal nephew of Enishte Effendi, converses with the murderer of another miniaturist and muses: "'Everybody secretly desires to have a style,..... 'Everybody also desires to have his portrait made, just as Our Sultan did.... 'Is this affliction impossible to resist?...... As this plague spreads, none of us will able to stand against the methods of the Europeans."
Thus, with the Renaissance, the seeds of change, began to tug away from the established, traditional Eastern art; an art form that gave no freedom to the artist to impose his own will. His recognition came from the ability to exactly copy or re-create the images of the great masters who painted before him.
Butterfly..... the most worldly, in the end wisely replies: "An artist should never succumb to hubris of any kind, he should simply paint the way he sees fit rather than troubling over East or West."
And here we are, East and West, at war once again.... "To God belongs the East and the West," the book quotes the Koran. And that tenet helps in understanding the threat that the West poses to the East in the cultural clash echoing yet today.
Only this time change threatens in a new way..... a pizza franchise, a Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant, a McDonald's, and others are already now in Mecca where infidels are considered the work of Satan.
Western music, customs, and literature spill over borders and new ideas continue to resonate in the staunch fabric of folklore of the traditional beliefs of many Muslims.
And the famous words of Rudyard Kipling resound their timeless wisdom....
"OH, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet.
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great judgement Seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face, tho' they come from the ends of the earth!".......
Highly recommended!
Book Review: I want to read more fo him!
Summary: 5 Stars
I want to read more of him. That's a sure sign that I've just fallen in love with (yet another) author. At first I wanted to read his "Snow", but - considering my antipathy for things cold in the present weather where Los Angeles competes with the Arctic - I've decided to track down his "New Life" instead. How could I possibly resist a book which begins: "I read a book one day and my whole life was changed"? That's my autobiography!
"My Name Is Red" has a pretty interesting start to it too. The title of the opening chapter is "I Am a Corpse" - now it can't get more gripping than that! The book is many things; including a murder mystery set on discovering at first the identity of the corpse and then the one who made it so by depriving it of life.
Each chapter is told from the point of view of one of the various characters in the book - living and non-living. This shifting perspective is enthralling and constantly challenges your perspective. In fact, the reason I bought the book was that when skimming through it I came across the narrative of a tree, which had the following line: "And not because I fear that if I'd been thus depicted all the dogs in Istanbul would assume I was a real tree and piss on me: I don't want to be a tree, I want to be its meaning." I didn't know this then, but the tree is talking about art: about two different styles. One is that of the Venetians - realistic; the other is that which was prevalent in Istanbul - miniature.
Art is but one of the layers of this delicious work, albeit a crucial one. You have romance - Shekure is one of the most interesting characters I have ever had the pleasure of reading. She's not simplistic or simple. The book also has the poignancy of the end of an era, a way of life, without being melodramatic; I suppose that a good part of that is due to the narrative technique.
His narrative technique reminds me of why I love post-modern styles which casually brush aside traditional modes for something more fun and challenging. He is beguiling in the lightness of his touch. This is not a book to read if you're only interested in the what-happens-next sort of deal - although it does get rather thrilling at times: it is a murder mystery after all. This is a good book: not something you have to race to end to find out what happened. It is something you savour the experience of, the taste of words lingering on your palate. It's something that makes you think.
The book has a certain...resonance. Though set in sixteenth century Istanbul, it still captures one's imagination. I suppose that is what good authors do. They seem to have this capacity to take what is within people - which they can't quite articulate - and put it into words. I presume it struck a strong chord in me as you can sense the love that this person has for his city - his home; and there is the manner in which he deals with the meeting of two different cultures. I imagine my own longing for home and coming to terms with a new way of life (while still hopelessly in love with the old) was one of the reasons why I felt such a connection to, such a prejudice in favour of, the book. Nonetheless, it is a great read! Try Orhan Pamuk, you won't regret it!
Book Review: Read and See
Summary: 5 Stars
I've read four books by Orhan Pamuk: this is my favorite so far. That opinion undoubtedly owes something to the cumulative effect of The Black Book, Snow, and Istanbul. Pamuk's style is dense, full of allusion and philosophical speculation. Stories are embedded within stories, creating a maze of thought that sometimes leads to illumination and other times just comes back to the beginning. After a while the reader either becomes accustomed to spelunking or gives up. I've found it very rewarding to stay with it, especially because of the sense I get that I'm understanding a different sensibility. My Name is Red invites the reader to think deeply about Islamic art as a form of meditation, an approach to the divine. As a Westerner, I've long been fascinated by the religious injunction to not portray living beings and the way that Islamic artists, who dedicate their life to the visual world, both obey and circumvent that law. The universal conflict between humanists and purists is made particularly graphic in the 16th-century context of Sultan Murat III's Istanbul. The artists and their families confront the same compromises, betrayals, and confusions that bedevil you and me as we struggle to reconcile the spirit and flesh with the constraints of our political and economic world.
The novel's plot is straightforward - find the killer, marry the right person - yet also labyrinthine. The pleasure one derives from plot, characterization, structure, and language feels like an add-on to the themes of mystery, mercy, vision, inspiration, love, artistic technique, etc. I often found myself drifting off, musing about such dissimilar topics as Persian stories, creative obsession, betrayal by old girlfriends, the effect of tripartite answers, and the presence of red objects in my immediate visual field. Reading My Name is Red was something akin to perusing an essay by Bacon, a story by Borges, or a lecture by Fuller. Pamuk invites you into his small, cramped, and slightly overheated room, offers you some Turkish coffee, begins a tale from the Book of Kings...and the next thing you know several hours have passed and you're walking the street seeing everything for the first time. He doesn't just make the old world new, he reminds us that it was just as new many years ago.
Another reason for Americans to read this novel is to counteract prejudice about the "Muslim world." The interminable media references to jihad and sharia law could make you think that fundamentalism is a necessary product of Muslim thought. (As a Post-Puritan Yankee, I should know better than to judge a group by its zealots.) Pamuk, in each of his books, reminds us that the spectrum of eastern thought and behavior is wide indeed. Although My Name is Red is historical fiction, it's very much a product of its time. Reading it with patience should yield wider smiles and brighter eyes.
Book Review: Blood for ink
Summary: 5 Stars
Crimson blood and crimson ink feature equally in this novel of dueling artistic traditions and dual murders, and both eventually merge (literally) at the scene of the crime. Pamuk's novel opens with an account from beyond the grave told by the first victim, Elegant, who has been slain by one of three fellow miniaturists; the mystery is which of his colleagues committed the crime, and Black, a man returned from exile, is engaged to unmask the culprit. By the time of the second murder, far more is at stake than just finding out who the killer is.
"My Name Is Red" is a novel that combines the medieval musings of Eco's "The Name of the Rose" with the whodunit plot of Mahfouz's "Miramar" (likewise a story of a death told from several points of view, including that of the victim). It is also a love story: of Black's formerly unrequited adoration of Sekure, daughter of the master Enishte, who has gathered a team of miniaturists and calligraphers to complete a secret book for the sultan.
This secrecy, rather than the killings, is central to the novel. Although the members of Enishte's team see only the parts of the book for which each is responsible, they all suspect the truth: that they are defying the prohibitions against "Frankish" innovations practiced by the Venetians, who "depict what the eye sees just as the eye sees it." The heresies of the Italian Renaissance are twofold: perspective and portraiture. The newfangled depth-and-shadow techniques depict "a horsefly and a mosque as if they were the same size--with the excuse that the mosque was in the background--thereby mocking the faithful who attend prayers." Likewise, the representation of individuals rather than their ideal forms is equally prohibited; it is an attempt to compete with what Allah has created, "so the observer has the impression not of a painting but of reality, to such a degree that this image has the power to entice men to bow down before it, as with icons in churches."
A particularly harrowing and memorable scene explores the lengths to which the master miniaturists will go to achieve perfection and individuality within the confines of their traditions--even if their dedication results in blindness. Equally memorable is the intricately woven passage depicting the second murder--but if you approach "My Name Is Red" with the expectation of reading detective fiction, you're sure to be disappointed.
I agree with those who complain that it's hard to tell apart the three suspects (Butterfly, Stork, and Olive); as a result, the unveiling of the perpetrator is not all that compelling--but surely that's as it should be. In Pamuk's fictional history, metaphysics trumps murder. Criminals kill for the basest of motives, but sometimes love, art, and faith are worth dying for.
Book Review: Very Unique, Very Enjoyable, A Bit Too Much Detail
Summary: 4 Stars
My Name is Red was the 2003 winner of the IMPAC Dublin Literary Award. Although I love the IMPAC methodology in choosing a book from across the international spectrum, I'm often puzzled by the final choices for this award. I am not puzzled by My Name is Red winning. It's a very unique book and not much about it is typical.
For the most part, the book flows along linearly but is told from many perspectives and not all characters are altogether truthful. It is set in 16th century Istanbul and the focus is on miniaturists who were traditional artists of books based on legends. Like many artists, they are obsessed with their art and are fanatical about details that most of us would see as inconsequential. Pamuk renders the detail of the Istanbul of the time lovingly and in great detail. I definitely felt as if I had been transported to 16th century Istanbul.
The core mover of the plot is the murder of one of the artists and the struggle to find the murderer. Four of the artists have been chosen to illustrate a great book in honor of the Sultan. One of the artists has been murdered and it is due to the philosphical debate over whether the book is an insult to the greatness of Allah.
The lead character named Black has returned from abroad after 12 years and has been involved in the effort by his uncle who is overseeing the creation of the great book. Black's perspective is the one that recurs most. Besides hunting down the murderer, Black is also completely in love with his uncle's daughter, Shekure. He has been in love with her since she was 12 years old and has never forgotten her while he travelled abroad.
So, we have a murder mystery, a love story and obsessions with art interwoven with a plot told from multiple perspectives. Additionally, some of the perspectives are very unusual and while they are mostly from the perspective of main characters, there are also chapters from the perpective of characters in drawings, Satan and the color Red. One of the perspectives is from the murderer who admits he is another character in the novel but disguises his identitiy while telling the story. This is a very interesting novel.
Several people have mentioned that this has a "Name of the Rose" feel to it. I agree with that. The similarities immediately jump to mind.
Some have said that the novel is too long. I don't exactly agree with that. I would say that the level of detail on stories, legends and all aspects of the artists craft is excessive. It makes for some very slow interludes that detract from the flow of the story.
This is a unique novel. I enjoyed it and definitely recommend it. I wish Pamuk had edited out some of the detail.