Customer Reviews

The Black Book

5 star:		(42)
4 star:		(11)
3 star:		(4)
2 star:		(3)
1 star:		(4)

 

 

Why bother reading stories? In part to escape ourselves, maybe in hopes of discovering ourselves. "The Black Book" is an intricate meditation on the act of reading that explores both sides of our urge for stories in obsessive detail.

The surface plot involves Galip's search for his missing wife and her half-brother Jelal, a famous Turkish columnist. But the deeper meaning of the story concerns the fact that every story has deeper meanings. As Galip's hunt progresses, the chaos of modern Istanbul promises to organize itself into the key to unlocking a larger mystery whose solution would make every detail of life carry meaning, turning the world itself into literature. As far as I can make out, for Pamuk this literary apocalypse would be equivalent to the Messiah's return and to each of us being reborn at last as ourselves, instead of living as hopeless imitations of our heroes from novels and movies.

Just as Galip discovers that Jelal, his own hero, cribbed his columns from older tales, Pamuk's readers gradually realize that Galip's story is a serpentine riff on the Islamic classics, as his search for Jelal and Ruya comes to parallel the Sufi quest for union with God. The Seeker becomes the Sought, Galip becomes Jelal, the reader becomes the author. The burden of postmodernity, Pamuk seems to say, is to realize that we are author, Messiah and reader rolled up in one, with the world as our text to fashion meanings for.

My one criticism is that Pamuk's tale feels a little too familiar, built around themes like the flux of identity, the absence of fixed meanings, the illusion of originality and the self-referential nature of literature that have already been ridden pretty hard by writers from Borges to Eco. But I like the way Pamuk annexes these postmodern concerns to the question of Turkish identity. What does it mean to be "ourselves" in a country where Westernization is a form of imitation? (and where the Western original turns out to have pillaged ideas from the East) "The Black Book" reminded me why stories matter, how literature shapes us and how amazing it is to have such great art available so easily at places like amazon.

Nobody could say THE BLACK BOOK is a thriller, but it is thrilling writing. An Istanbul lawyer's wife disappears. A related columnist also disappears. The lawyer looks for them. That's about it. But the search and the thinking is the thing. Pamuk's style blends Proust with Borges. If you find that intriguing, read the book. Pamuk manages to combine intimate details of life in the modern city of Istanbul with tales of Sufi masters, long ago executioners, Ottoman pashas, and underground fantasies with a great deal of soul-searching on the nature of human identity. "I want to be somebody else, therefore I am" is his theme again, following on from his previous work, "The White Castle". Dreams, intertwining identities, the connection between writing and life, even cryptograms. This is fascinating stuff. Though sometimes the book lags, it always picks up again with another strange twist. Pamuk is certainly one of the most interesting writers working today.

In "The Black Book" the reader embarks on a quest on the streets of contemporary Istanbul, together with the main protagonist, Galip.

One day, Galip discovers that his wife, Ruya, is missing. He immediately connects this with the disappearance of his older cousin, Jelal Bey, a nationally renowned columnist. Galip decides to look for Ruya and Jelal, keeping their disappearance from family and friends. He sleeplessly wanders around Istanbul, collecting clues and encountering people, getting deep into Jelal's life and discovering many of his secrets.

The above paragraph summarizes pretty much the whole plot - there is not much more happening. The ending and solution of the mystery of the disappearance is even quite disappointing... However, what is interesting in this clearly post-modernist book is not the plot, but the form. The chapters interchange between reporting Galip's search for Ruya and Jelal, and Jelal's newspaper columns. The "column" chapters are complete stories, covering subjects as diverse, as events in Turkish history, lives of ordinary (shopkeeper, mannequin maker) and famous (poet Rumi, who reappears in many places throughout the book) people, personal observations, secret organizations, plots and premonitions, and subjects as hot as Turkey's relations with Europe and national identity. The "story within a story" scheme is applied successfully (or even a bit overdone, since the side stories are in effect much more interesting than the main plot), making the association with Shecherezada and the Tales of Thousand and One Night obvious.

I liked the images of Istanbul a lot, I could really see the city before my eyes. This is apparently chcracteristic for Pamuk's prose, Istanbul as the setting, portrayed with love and accuracy, a city of many colors and with a special atmosphere.

Orhan Pamuk succeeded in writing the book which connects Turkish Asian and European traditions, their roots and past with the modern times and fashions. Galip is a new Ulysses (for me, Joyce came to mind immediately, even sooner than Proust), searching for his identity and coming back to himself after a long and stressful journey. The question of personal identity is extremely important here, Galip, as many other characters, longs to be like someone else (in his case, Jelal). Dreams are also essential in this onirical prose (after all, "Ruya" means "dream")... I liked the stories and digressions more and more towards the end of the book - initially I had to adjust to the slow pace though. I am also afraid that the translation into English is not doing this novel a favor.
Having said that, I nevertheless think that it is an enjoyable book for an experienced reader, who does not expect a mystery novel, but something to savor slowly and gradually.

I tried reading this book when I first moved to Istanbul nearly two years ago but found it so overwhelming that I couldn't cope with its density and countless diversions. I put it down but sent a copy to my sister-in-law who told me she read it in five sittings and enjoyed it tremendously. Finally over the culture shock I had experienced coming here, I picked it up again. Several times I threw it aside, but finally I could not give up on Galip/Jelal and read through to the end. Pamuk weaves a masterful tale and the stories and obsevations are totally enthralling. Knowing Istanbul makes the book even more interesting. Pamuk's descriptions of the streets, the vendors, the buildings and people are lucid and evocative. The juxtaposition of the plot chapters and newspaper columns is a brilliant construction. However, I give it only three stars for the same reason I would give only three stars to his novel The White Castle: he is repetitive. He reiterates over and over again his theme and his dilemmas. His prose is wonderfully engrossing when he allows it to flow, but he does not give his readers enough credit. I wanted more of a chance to use my own perception, even if not so highly refined as the author's.

This is a fascinating novel. To be sure, if you have read other books by Pamuk, you will recognize the themes: the void that Attaturk's reforms could not fill (after the collapse of the Ottoman Empire); the continuing crisis of the Turkish identity that plays out in politics; and the extraordinary richness, humor and melancholy of the current culture. These are wonderfully sketched out in Pamuk's memoires, Istanbul, but also in the switching identities and interminable conflicts in his other novels. What makes this book interesting for hard fans like me is that it is his first, hence the source, of these later masterpieces of genius. It is serious, complex literature, that the reader can plumb for years in the imagination.

First, there is the plot and setting. A beloved wife has disappeared, and her seemingly hapless husband embarks on a search for her, grief stricken to the point that his sanity is shaken. This offers a wonderful portrait of the unknown, banal corners of Istanbul, just prior to the coup d'etat in the early 80s. Chaos is mounting, amidst the usual joyous cacophony of people and everyday struggle. It is warm, funny, and moving.

Second, there is the culture and identity. Turks are uncertain if they belong to the East or the West, which they mimic in Pamuk's eyes to an absurd extent. To fill this void, they turn to writers, such as the lawyer's mysterious cousin, a famous columnist. In my reading, his loyal readers are searching for themselves through his eloquence and culture, as he retells old tales as well as finds new ones, which he expresses through his own brand of mimicry (or transmogrification). The Lawyer studies him as the key to the secret of his wife's disappearance, eventually taking on much of his identity.

Third, there are the interactions, both with history and similar people in the present. It all mixes in a kind of Nabokovian dream, where there are real and imagined threats and relationships. The mind of the lawyer, seemingly so mundane, is revealed here with great depth, layers that peel away repeatedly.

My interpretation of the book is that it is about the internal narrative of our lives - the stories we tell ourselves about who we are - that is the basis of personal identity and even cultures. In ascendant, self-obsessed countries like the US, this narrative goes largely unexamined in our presumption that everyone should want to live like us. This novel offers a strikingly different vision of this narrative, one that is wounded by history and in search of words and concepts to re-make itself. I think this is a great human dilemma, from which Americans can learn to better see themselves as well as empathize with other peoples, particularly in the current crisis of the Moslem world.

The translation is very vivid, though of course I cannot read it in the original. There is also a fascinating translator's note, in which she discusses the complexities of Turkish. It makes me wish I had learned Turkish.

Warmly recommended for serious students of literature. This book requires effort, but it is worth every bit of it. I would compare the achievements of this writer with the best work of VS Naipal, full of pathos and empathy for characters unusual for an American or western audience and yet sparkling with humor in the darkest moments.

If you ever thought of grasping the late 20th century Turkish psyche, you just couldn't have a better guide than Orhan PAMUK. The intellectual package he uses in his criticism of Turkey and comparative historical information bits he inserts here and there (which are actually very intelligent, and admittedly at times wishful, criticisms of the West) will help you start to understand this ever-transitioning, confused people of Eurasia. Unfortunately, his intellectual depth may sometimes be a hindrance for the impatient reader.

If you liked this book, go ahead and buy his other books, esp. The New Life and the upcoming translation of My Name is Red. You won't be wronged!

This is an extremely complex ,and at times, difficult novel to read. For a Turk or someone familiar with Istanbul, some of the" stories within a story" may be fascinating. However for a non-Turk this book was more frustrating than attempts to read Marcel Proust. The scenes described are often hallucinatory, and subsequent narration of the same incident through different eyes, leaves you with the feeling that you have lost your place, and are re-reading the same material with a misunderstanding of what you are positive you had read and understood earlier.

The book is about identity, alienation and the art of writing . The author's intent to mislead the reader is deliberate. Like Galip, the main character of the novel , you are constantly forced to re-evaluate that which you were quiet confident that you understood the first time around. Ultimately it becomes too disorientating, and tiresome. I have no doubt that "The Black Book" is considered a Great Novel. However Pamuk's style, in translation, makes this work very difficult and less than rewarding to read.

The story of the Mannequin Maker however is very haunting, and it is this/those segment(s) of the novel which I will always remember and rediscover in memory.

... you like books that are dense, dark, confusing, modernist (post or otherwise), deep, ... you get the picture.

The entire book, though wrapped around a very thinly set up mystery, is about the philosophical conundrum of how can people be just themselves. Is it possible? Is it desirable? What would such a life be like?

This is not for light reading; and it's not a page turner. One of Pamuk's early works, it has moments of amazingly good writing - followed by moments of boring, inessential details. Overall, the former outweighed the latter making for an interesting if not too entertaining a read.

the black book is about searching - search for identity in a culture which is at the fringes of the western world, search of a loved one, search of oneself, search for meaning in life, search for the core of a city which does not reveal itself at first sight, or search for literary influences for mr. pamuk's novel.
this is not to say that black book is a research paper. there is extensive pleasure in this book for anybody interested in reading. it is one of those books which surrounds you, an experience you would expect more from a movie. however, to my surprise, i have met so many people who were overwhelmed by the book and were not able to finish it. not to mention the controversy surrounding it in its native turkey.
it is no surprise that it took about ten years even for an author of mr. pamuk's calibre to come in terms with a masterpiece as black book and create a comparable work, such as my name is red.
one of the masterpieces of 20th century literature.

I have recently finished Orhan Pamuk's Black book, and I have read itin original. This is the fourth Pamuk book I have read (I liked his other works too), and I undestand (and I also agree) why they refer this book as "Pamuk's masterpiece". The book gives glimpses of Itanbul's life in 60-70's, it blends modernizm with sufi thinking, and it has references to comtemporary political discussions in turkey, struggle of turkish identity between east and west, etc. The book has so many details, which makes it sometimes a difficult, but definetely an enjoyable read. Especially Chapter 2, "the day bosphourus's dries up", is my favorite part, which I have read numerous times, and everytime I read it, I noticed a new detail.
Sure, this book is not a thriller, and some people can, and will find it boring. However, as one master once said "this book is like wine, and everybody drinks water".
I strongly suggest it, if you like literature you will enjoy it. It is among my favorites now.