Gardens of Water

An earthquake in Turkey displaces two families who lived in the same apartment building, connecting them forever at that moment in time, yet creating an unbridgeable distance between them. In a sense, both families were already displaced when the earthquake hit. Sinan Basioglu and his family are Kurds living outside the Kurdish homeland, while Marcus Hamm and his family are Americans affiliated with an American missionary school.

The teenage romance between Sinan's daughter, Irem, and Marcus's son, Dylan, is predictably tragic. The Hamm family's effect on Sinan's young son, Ismail, is more surprising. Points of tension include Muslim and Christian, fundamentalist and moderate, East-West/Europe-Asia, American worldview vs. Middle Eastern show more worldview, parents and children, male and female. This novel illuminates cultural divides without imagining resolutions for them. show less

This book started off so well. I love historical, and cultural fiction. This story immerses us in Turkey within the life of a Kurdish Muslim family and their American neighbors. I liked the romance between Irem and Dylan and how she struggled with her Muslin beliefs and her desire to be more freedom in the male-dominated Muslim social/cultural system.

The earthquake hits, and everyone's life is turned upside down. However, it gives Irem some more freedom, and she takes the chance to enjoy this silver lining amidst the chaos and turmoil of her family's near-homelessness. She still struggles, of course, not just with herself, but her parents, especially her mother, who frankly, comes off at times as something that rhymes with 'witch'.

I show more found myself appalled and tuned off by the ending. For a story that I was enjoying so much with its descriptions of life in a different land as well as coping with a earthquake and the aftermath of it, the ending was like driving a car head-on into a wall. I didn't expect the ending to be all lovey-happy-dappy, but Dylan intoxicated Irem with alcohol and then raped her, and then she killed herself. I mean, wtf? When she comes back to her parents crying about being raped, her mother coldly turns her away, and her father actually contemplated killing her! I was hoping for some sort of solution that while not perfect, was workable, and instead all i got was this. The only reason I didn't give this book just one star was because the writing/prose itself is good. show less

So many losses occur in this multi-layered book, beginning with the earthquake that crumbled buildings, society, and family connections in an Istanbul suburb before the millenium.

The characterization of Sinan was faultless. I never thought I could feel the pain of a Muslim man, but his essence was convincingly conveyed despite its many facets. In his heart, he knew the Americans were a threat to his Kurdish way of life, but the obligation of his son's life overruled his doubts and caused him to let his guard down. His emotional conflicts were as distressing to me as was his male pride and poor treatment of his daughter.

Most distressing, however, was the surreptitious religious imperialism. The prejudices and judgments that often show more accompany organized religion showed up in the "relief" camps. People who had lost everything now had their traditions and beliefs questioned, resulting in the ultimate degradation. With all this upheaval, it was no wonder that Irem (Sinan's 15-year-old daughter) was so confused by her first small taste of freedom and the attention of an equally confused American teen.

What a spellbinding book. I was transported to a fascinating and complicated part of the world. My understanding of this bewildering culture was greatly enriched by the author's comments at the end. I highly recommend Alan Drew's well-researched and heartfelt first novel. show less

A terrific debut novel about a conservative Kurdish family in transition in Turkey -- geographic transition, due first to military instability and then an earthquake; and cultural transition, initially sandwiched between Islamic fundamentalists and secularists, then among Western (American) Christians.

Alan Drew develops sympathetic and true characters, and his writing style, sprinkling of foreign-language terms, and evocative settings immerse the reader in 1999 Turkey (on a par with Khaled Hosseini's style). Short chapters and alternating viewpoints (a father and his 15-year-old daughter) keep the story moving, though at a leisurely pace until the final 75 pages.

This novel entertained and informed me, but it also did the best thing a show more book can do: it inspired me to learn more -- outside of the story -- by seeking and exploring additional sources on my own. Highly recommended! show less

It always amazes me that after a disaster, such as this earthquake, religious people thank God and call him merciful for sparing them. Where is the mercy in allowing the earthquake at all? In fact, I would like to ask intelligent design advocates of the intelligence behind hurricanes, tornados, and earthquakes. This novel is full of people thanking a merciful God without much thought to the lack of mercy shown to the more than 17,000 people crushed in the terrible 1999 Marmara earthquake and its aftershocks.

At times I was annoyed at the Christians using a disaster as an opportunity to convert people who only want to be left alone. During a conversation between father (Sinan) and his son, Ismael, Sinan asks himself if there is any place show more we can be left alone. In an interview with the author, he reflects on his visit to Turkey. He arrived four days before the quake, and he seems to chide the Christians for taking advantage of desperate people, yet he places words in the mouth of Marcus, a relief worker, who also tries to convert Ismael, that seems to excuse his behavior, claiming he was only offering hope to the young boy, who was depressed and suffering over all the loss of life around him.

What Drew has done is subtly hint that Christianity is better than Islam because the latter offers no hope. I wonder if this is an example of Christian fiction I have assiduously avoided. I have always been staunchly against missionaries. They have caused enormous damage to cultures, art, artifacts and whole populations over the last 2,000 years. Why missionaries believe they can simply go to a village, or a city, or a foreign country and tell native peoples what they have believed for generations is all wrong, but the missionaries have the correct answer, never ceases to mystify me.

This novel is the third I have read recently in which the characters refer to his or her father as “Baba.” Pashtuns in 20th century Afghanistan, Chinese peasants in the early 19th century, and now Kurds in Turkey in the 1990s. It is also the third recent read which describes the horrific treatment of women and female children at the hands of males, including fathers and brothers. Ismael and his sister try to break out of the family traditions with an innocent view of the world, life, and love. But this is the ultimate loss that so threatens the Muslim world. If their children turn away from the old ways and the old beliefs, Islam has no future in the eyes of the Muslim fundamentalists. This inability to accept an updating of their beliefs, and acceptance of some modern ways, has stunted growth in the Middle East. These people are refusing to accept the birth pangs of a new way of looking at the world, which the West endured during the Renaissance to throw off the stranglehold the Catholic Church held over Europe in the Middle Ages.

The description of the earthquake is gripping, the exploration of Sinan’s anguish at his losses, are touching, and overall, Alan Drew has written an interesting story, but he is no Orhan Pamuk, the recent Nobel Prize winning author from Turkey. Four stars of five.

--Jim, 2/24/08 show less

In the debut novel Gardens Of Water, an earthquake, both physically and metaphorically, shatters the lives of two very different families. This collision sets the families on a path of sacrifice and pain so deep the reader is compelled to continue, hoping for happy ending, yet unable to imagine what that resolution might look like.

Sinan, a devout Kurdish Muslim, lives with his wife, teenage daughter, and young son outside the city of Istanbul. In the apartment above them lives an American Christian, Marcus, with his own wife and teenaged son. After a party celebrating Sinan’s son’s entry to manhood, a devastating earthquake strikes. The earthquake does more than destroy these two families’ homes; it destroys everything each man show more holds dearest.

Soon Sinan’s family is living in an American refugee camp where Marcus attempts to befriend them. What was once an innocent flirtation between the two teenagers turns into a dangerous march toward rebellion. Their story is in some ways so typical of any teen love story, yet so much more dangerous in their setting. As his daughter’s rebellion swells and his son’s nightmares unfurl, Sinan labors to gather funds in order to return his family to the unspoiled small-town of his youth. There, Sinan believes, he can protect his family from Western influences. But, as the teen lovers hover dangerously close to an edge, the tension builds like a wall of loose brick awaiting another earthquake. The reader knows it’s coming, can feel the little aftershocks; yet when the proverbial earthquake happens, the reader is devastated along with the characters left standing.

Gardens Of Water might first appear a convoluted read, but the actual reading is so smooth and well driven one forgets the multi-layered complications involved in Muslim and Christian relations. The writing is vivid and enlightening with perfectly building tension. The teen scenes are Romeo and Juliet inspired, each heartbeat quickening the tale. My favorite quote from the novel is so very poignant (especially to this empty nest Mom): “Our children are not ours. That is our mistake. We think they are. It seems so for awhile – but they aren’t. They never were.”

This story also provides an exceptional look at the American influence in the world and the Muslim desire to hold onto it’s own traditions. There are enumerable cultural perspectives and the negatives of each religion are evenly portrayed. The appendix of author conversations offers further enlightenment.

Gardens Of Water is a brilliant story to be especially enjoyed by lovers of historical fiction, or those enjoying themes of conflict between religion, culture and modern ideals, or remorse for past decisions, or the blossoming danger of forbidden love.

Review first published on Many A Quaint & Curious Volume show less

It seems that there has been a flux of popular fiction recently centered on various Middle Eastern countries & their customs. And while I enjoy learning about them for the most part, I feel like I can read only so many of them. Fortunately, this one didn't disappoint me. If you're looking for an uplifting, happy story, this might not be the one for you. Rather, it deals with tragedy on many levels while interweaving two distinct peoples & religions in a very believable storyline. I felt Irem was a very believable character, wanting desperately to gain some independence but yet not quite ready to leave the comforts of family, something I think many teenage girls worldwide must feel, regardless of culture or upbringing. The novel goes show more back & forth, with Irem's point of view alternated with that of her father, Sinan, and while the relationship between the two of them is somewhat subtle, Alan Drew does a good job of bringing it full circle near the end. I found the last portion of this book especially engaging, albeit disturbing. Overall, this was an excellent debut novel & one which I would recommend. show less