Snow

Set in the early 1990s in Kars, a remote and dilapidated city in eastern Anatolia famed less for its mournful relics of Armenian civilization and Russian imperial rule than for its spectacularly awful weather. Snow, "kar" in Turkish, falls incessantly on the treeless plains and the castle, river and boulevards of Kars, which the local scholars say takes its name from "karsu" (snow-water).
In this novel, the city is cut off from the world and also, to an extent, from normal literary reality by three days of unremitting snow. Written, the reader is told, between 1999 and 2001, Snow deals with some of the large themes of Turkey and the Middle East: the conflict between a secular state and Islamic government, poverty, unemployment, the veil, show more the role of a modernising army, suicide and yet more suicide.Amid the desperate students, cafés, small shopkeepers, gunshots and inky comedy are the trickeries familiar from modern continental fiction. The result is large and expansive, but, even at 436 pages, neither grand nor heavy.
Pamuk's hero is a dried-up poet named Kerim Alakusoglu, conveniently abbreviated to Ka: After many years in political exile in Frankfurt, Ka returns to Istanbul to attend his mother's funeral. He is then commissioned by an Istanbul newspaper to write an article about the municipal elections in Kars and investigate a succession of suicides by women and girls in the city. In his role as journalist, Ka trudges through the snow interviewing the families of the girls. He learns that they are committing suicide because of pressure by the college authorities to take off their headscarves in class. (Compulsory unveiling succeeds just as well as compulsory veiling, which is, not well at all.)
It soon emerges that Ka is not greatly interested in headscarves but has come to fall in love with his old Istanbul schoolmate, Ipek, who has ended up in Kars and is separated from her husband. Meanwhile, his lyric gift returns to him with a force bordering on incontinence, and he is forever plunging into tea houses to get his latest poem down in a green notebook. Another narrator, called Orhan Pamuk, tells the story not from the notebook, which is lost or stolen, but from notes in Ka's handwriting that he finds four years later in the poet's flat in Frankfurt.
The book is full of winning characters, from Ka himself to Blue, a handsome Islamist terrorist with the gift of the gab, an actor-manager and his wife who tour small Anatolian towns staging revolutionary plays and coups de main, and Serdar Bey, the local newspaper editor, who has a habit of writing up events and running them off his ancient presses before they occur. There are many fine scenes, including one where a hidden tape records the last conversation between a college professor in a bakery and his Islamist assassin.
In general the story is worth the read although it was slow at times (it took me forever to finish). Written between 1999 and 2001, it hints at the rising political-religious unrest between Muslims and western society. show less

Никак не е случайно, че Орхан Памук е 1. толкова известен напоследък и 2. е съден и едва не отива в затвора в Турция. Защото книгите му (ако съдя по тази), показват неща за родната му страна, които една незряла полу-демокрация като нея трудно може да признае пред себе си…

Турция от турските сериали като Листопад примерно, е Турция на цивилизованата столица, на красивите, образовани хора, на жените с пламенни show more погледи, облечени във Версаче и на мъжете-бизнесмени със скъпи костюми. Турция на светския живот, културата, една европейска Турция – точно такава, каквато политици и жители на тази страна им се иска тя да изглежда в очите на останалия свят. Една Турция, която съществува във фантазиите, в някои квартали на Истанбул и май никъде другаде.

Турция на Орхан Памук обаче, такава, каквато той я описва в романите си, е всъщност реалната, не кинематографична Турция. Турция на провинцията, на десетките милиони бедни, необразовани хора, на огромната безработица, на брадати мъже, които по цял ден висят в кафенето а после бият жените си. И най-вече Турция на политическата нестабилност, насилие и убийства, на вечното люшкане между Европа и Азия, между политическия ислям и войстващия марксизъм, между образоваността и фанатичния национализъм, Турция на военния режим като единствен гарант за светската и що-годе правова държава, една още непораснала и много нестабилна полу-демокрация.

Сняг не прави изключение – той е тежък, много тежък за четене. Въпросите, които повдига за турската национална, културна и политическа идентичност, за народопсихологията, за характера на турския човек и визията му за света и развитието на държавата са изключително сериозни, на фона на една леко прашна любовна история. Въпроси, които, ако съдим по реакциите на турското общество и държава към книгите на Памук, като че ли Турция все още не е готова да зададе на себе си, камо ли да започне да търси техните отговори.

И между другото, и го казвам само заради това, че тоя въпрос напоследък се обсъжда в медиите, творбите на Орхан Памук са като че ли най-красноречивото мнение за това има ли място Турция в ЕС.

Edit 2017г.: Предвид възхода на Ердоган през изминалите 8 години откак съм написал това ревю, смятам наблюденията на Памук, както и горните ми разсъждения върху тях, за особено проникновени, не че се хваля. show less

"Heaven was the place where you kept alive the dreams of your memories."

Ka is a Turkish poet and political exile living in Germany. He returns to his homeland to attend his mother's funeral and whilst in the country decides to travel to the eastern town of Kars. He arrives in a snowstorm on the last bus before the roads behind him are closed cutting off the town. Ka is purportedly in the town as a journalist, to write about the forthcoming mayoral elections and a recent spate of suicides by young girls banned from school for wearing headscarves but in reality he is motivated more by the hope of a romance with an old school friend, Ipek.

As Ka explores the teahouses, back streets, and institutions of Kars he meets a whole host of people, show more a newspaper editor who writes the news before it happens, a sheikh, an Islamist teenager who wants to become a science-fiction writer, a terrorist and the headscarf-wearing sister of the woman he hopes to entice back to Germany, and of course the ever-present members of secret police.

While Kars is shut off from the outside world, a coup is carried out by elements of the military led by the leader of a theatrical troupe. Ka himself is uninterested in politics, but he is forced to participate to protect himself and to achieve his dream of a future life with Ipek. Nor can he control his poetic inspiration, which keeps seizing him without warning.

The story is told in the third person, the narrator is a novelist called Orhan, a friend of Ka's who is reconstructing the poet's life after his death several years later even going as far as visiting Kars himself and talking to the people that Ka met there.

Kars is a town a long way from its heyday when it was on important trade routes, but it still exhibits the political and social conflicts of Turkey as a whole: between state and society, between the secular and the religious, between provincial and metropolitan, between Western and Eastern and Pamuk explores all these issues. But it is also a portrait of obsession and jealousy that probes the relationship between art and life.

"Snow" is an ambitious novel and a character driven one. It is something of a slow burner rather than a rip-roaring read but I still found it highly absorbing and I felt that Pamuk held all his many strands together really well. However, I also felt a little let down by the ending. I'm not convinced that there was a need for the narrator to travel to Kars at all as I didn't think that it really added anything to the overall plot, a few questions were answered many were not. Personally I felt that the book should have ended when Ka boarded the train. Nevertheless I would still recommend the book to anyone curious about Turkey. show less

It’s nice to be European. There is currently no better place to live on the planet. Ireland found wealth and individual freedom by joining Europe. As Europe expands, I’ve been a supporter, glad to give other nations the same chance we had. However, when Turkey joined the queue, I hesitated; partly because I think Europe is growing too fast and showing growing pains; but mainly because I feared Turkey shows none of the characteristics I think it needs to be European. After reading this fantastic book, I haven’t changed my mind.

Ka is an exiled poet with writer’s block. An intelligent, sensitive and lonely man, he is no hero or danger to the regime and his exile even looks like the result of a misunderstanding. On a return visit to show more Turkey, he refinds his muse and the poetry begins to flow. A minor local insurgency erupts and the various powers and influences all come to regard him as a pawn in their ambitions. Ka is no hero and though principled he is full of complexes and lies to all around him. His only real concern is finding happiness which he feels has eluded him all his life. The result is a deeply poetic and intelligent novel which explores political and religious questions in modern Turkey. The cast includes lovely characters including an insurgent actor, his adoring complicit belly-dancer wife, a very pliable newspaper editor, a peaceful islamic radical, the beautiful woman who is the object of Ka’s amorous attentions and her veiled sister.

Trying to pin down just what makes me uncomfortable about Turkey, I’ve concluded it’s not Islam. Most of the wonderful characters in this book are worth sharing Europe with. Orhan Pamuk presents all their positions in what sounds to me a balanced way and they all have merit. Naturally, as a westerner, I’m not comfortable with Islamic notions or freedom or individuality, but I don’t think that this is what has convinced me that Europe is not ready for Turkey. I think what turned me against Turkey was the police; the surveillance; the torture; all carried out at the behest of the State. Frequent comparisons with Iran also disturbed me. When Turkey is ready to resolve differences between its very different peoples in a tolerant European way, it will be ready for Europe. Before that, Europe would only be importing tensions that could spread like a virus.

Indeed, Pamuk himself has been on the receiving end of state oppression and a pawn in their European membership ambitions. He was charged with insulting Turkishness, giving rise to an international outcry. The charges were dropped on a technicality when the EU began reviewing the Turkish legal system.

Orhan Pamuk received the 2006 Nobel Prize for Literature. show less

In Orhan Pamuk’s Snow, a man comes home. As always, the context is excruciatingly important. Ka, a Turkish poet, who has lived for a while in Germany, returns to his home country to investigate a series of young suicides in the town of Kars. It’s a small town, and religious tensions run high. Ka doesn’t write much poetry any more, but the folks in Kars, when not dodging political subterfuge or looking for angles, give him more credit than he deserves for his writing. In the town of Kars lives Ipek, a woman recently separated from her political candidate husband, a woman who reminds Ka of better days, a woman who he thinks can save him and his poetry. In the dead of winter, Ka soon learns, however, just how heavy and silent the show more snow can be.

Pamuk’s work comes from a country scarred by centuries of religious debate. While the government still desperately clings to idea that it can be secular and separate from the fight, those who run for office or speak out against those in power do so from the perspective of their faith. Ka’s business in Kars is constantly bombarded by people with questions about his faith. Does he believe in God? Did he leave Turkey because he no longer has faith? Does he think the suicides in town are due to the head-scarf debate? All Ka really wants is an answer to a single question: Will Ipek marry him? His indifference to all else leads him on a journey into the weird Orwellian political underbelly of Turkish culture. He meets with rebel leaders and local police on equal footing so long as it gets him in Ipek’s good graces.

Snow presents itself as a gathered story. The narrator has found Ka’s journals, newspaper clippings, video tapes, and official documents and tries to piece together Ka’s story as the suicides unfold. Presumably, Ka keeps very extensive notes. The glaring exception here is that all of Ka’s poems are missing. He is even asked to recite a poem on local television, but he never gets the chance. All we get are snippets and environments, but never the finished products. In short, we keep seeing the inspirations, but never what was inspired. Even though Snow is about a foreign culture and debate, I never felt completely removed from the tale. Pamuk’s words are rich, haunting, detailed, and dripping with commentary. If I ever get a chance, I will definitely read more by him. show less

Ka, a Turkish poet recently returned from exile in Germany, travels to Kars to investigate the recent suicides of "head scarf girls," the young women who wear head scarves in protest of the laws that do not allow them to wear them to university. Also, not incidentally, this is where a women he knew in school, Ipek, lives after her divorce. After his arrival, Kars is cut off from the rest of the country by a snowstorm that closes the roads.

This rich tale is hard to explain. It unfolds in such a way that it is hard to describe accurately, since what seems important for the first 50 pages or so turn out not to be the main focus of this exploration of the tension between the secularists and the Islamists, politics and performance, personal show more happiness and duty. The narration distances us from events and characters by its layered narration. Though most of the story is told from Ka's perspective the actual narrator - a friend of Ka's who is unnamed for much of the story - knows the end of events before he begins, and will often speak directly to the reader about these future events. While in Kars (which means "snow"), Ka finds himself able to write poetry even while he is faced with questions about his own identity and faith, or lack of it. He becomes a (possibly?) unwilling participant in events that leave the narrator and reader intentionally fuzzy about exactly what happens. Not for the fainthearted reader, but for one willing to persevere and pick apart the novel, it's a meaty and involving read. show less

Ka, a Turkish poet, has been living in exile in Germany for the last decade. His mother's death brings him back to Istanbul, but the thought of an old acquaintance soon draws him to the provincial town of Kars. Ka's excuse for visiting Kars is that he wants to write a newspaper story about the recent suicides among the headscarf girls and about the local elections. His real reason for the visit is to renew his acquaintance with Ipek, who he's learned is now divorced from his poet friend Muhtar. He secretly hopes to persuade Ipek to marry him and return to Germany with him. A heavy snowfall strands him in Kars for several days, and circumstance and fate drive the course of events. The snowbound city reawakens Ka's muse, and he begins to show more write poems again after a drought of many years.

There is an undercurrent of paranoia throughout the book. While Ka is disturbed to learn that he's under surveillance, the residents of Kars accept this as normal. Nothing can be taken at face value. The local newspaper publisher writes about the day's events before they happen. Everyone Ka meets has an opinion about who he should trust and who he should avoid – but can he trust anyone's advice?

Ka's thoughts and feelings come second-hand to the reader, through a friend who knows the details of Ka's visit. Does the reader get a clear picture of Ka, or has it been distorted by his friend's interpretation of Ka's actions and motivations?

Like Salman Rushdie in Midnight's Children, Pamuk does provide some interpretive suggestions for the reader. Even with these hints, it still requires effort to work out the symbolism and structure of the novel. I think most readers will find it worth their effort to read, and possibly re-read, since I think it falls in that category of novels that hold back some rewards for the second reading. show less