Skip to main content

My Name is Red


Book Review

“To God belongs the East and the West,” says one of the prominent characters who commits two murders in the novel.  “But East is east and West is west,” pat comes the response from Black, the one who identifies the murderer.

Nobel laureate Orhan Pamuk’s novel, My Name is Red, revolves round the European (West) and the Turkish (East) perspectives of art.  The artist is free to look at the object according to his individual inner truth and understanding in the Western view.  Such an artist has an individual style.  But the genuine Islamic view has to see an object as Allah would see it.  Any individual nuance  given by the artist is blasphemy. 

The novel is set in 1591, a year before the 1000th anniversary (by the Islamic calendar) of Prophet Mohammed’s flight from Mecca to Medina.  The Sultan wants to celebrate the anniversary by publishing a special book which will be illustrated by the best artists (miniaturists) of the country.  Enishte Effendi is given charge of the work and he mixes the Western perspective with the Islamic one.  Soon one of the artists is killed mysteriously.  Eventually Enishte is murdered too by the same killer who is one of the miniaturists with his own ambition and greed.

In the imagination of the people, the motive for the murders is mixed with the activities of the preacher Husret Hoja who is radically opposed to anything that is un-Islamic.  Even coffeehouses are dens of sins, according to him.  His followers go around punishing people who go astray from the true path of the Koran. 

The novel was originally published in 1998 and the English translation followed the WTC meltdown by Osama bin Laden’s religious followers.  No wonder, the book received wide publicity in the West at that time.  Pamuk raises serious questions about the validity of the kind of fanaticism foisted on people by preachers like Husret Hoja “who  were (in the words of a character) desperate to find an aspect contrary to the religion.”

The novel brilliantly explores the meaning of art and religion.  When one of the artists says, “There’s much that an artist with a clear conscience has to fear in our day,” he is putting a succinct question mark on the meaning and validity of religion.  If clear conscience goes against religion, then what is the significance of religion? 

Essentially the novel is an exploration of the meaning of art.  It is also an exploration of what distinguishes the East from the West.  Religion appears more like a villain whenever it makes its appearance. 

There is a love affair too.  The most beautiful Shekure is widowed though no one really knows what happened to her husband who disappeared four years ago in a war.  Black was in love with her from the time she was a pubescent girl.  But he was sent into exile for twelve years by Shekure’s father, Enishte Effendi.  The same Effendi takes him back after the exile and the love grows.  But there are rivals including Shekure’s younger brother-in-law who argues that his brother is not dead and hence she has to live in the husband’s house.  She has been living with her father in order to escape from this brother-in-law’s carnal desires. He supports his view with their religion’s peculiar laws regarding divorce.  This whole romance adds much colour and verve to the novel.  

Orhan Pamuk
It is not at all an easy novel to read, the romance notwithstanding.  Each chapter is narrated by a particular character and the whole thing reads like a big jigsaw puzzle that the reader has to put together.  More than that, many parts are like debates or discussions on art.  However, the murder mystery creeps on to the reader right in chapter one which is narrated by the murdered person himself.  Sometimes a dog or the colour red becomes the narrator.  Even Death appears as one of the narrators.

Those who love challenging books will find this novel appealing.  They must also have a taste for philosophy.


Indian Bloggers

Comments

  1. I could not complete this novel,when I tried reading at 5-6years back.I found it difficult. I think I should give it one more try...
    Thanks for the review !

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I too gave up many times earlier. It demands much patience.

      Delete
  2. I am fond of both philosophy and mystery. Definitely my cup of tea it is. Thanks for sharing your take.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Adventures of Toto as a comic strip

  'The Adventures of Toto' is an amusing story by Ruskin Bond. It is prescribed as a lesson in CBSE's English course for class 9. Maggie asked her students to do a project on some of the lessons and Femi George's work is what I would like to present here. Femi converted the story into a beautiful comic strip. Her work will speak for itself and let me present it below.  Femi George Student of Carmel Public School, Vazhakulam, Kerala Similar post: The Little Girl

Trapped in Pandora’s Shadows

Anjana Alphons George I wanted this to be a guest post from a former student. However, getting this poem from Anjana Alphons George wasn’t quite easy. So this is going to be a hybrid of the guest and the host coming together like the waves and the intertidal zone in the ocean. “I’ve become your fan,” I said to Anjana. She was in grade 10. I wasn’t teaching her since my classes were confined to grades 11 and 12. It was a few years back. Anjana had delivered a speech in the weekly morning assembly. Her speech was entirely different from all the speeches of students I had ever listened to. It sounded impromptu. It carried feelings from the heart. Convictions, rather. It was motivational. Inspiring. It moved goosebumps on my skin. “Your speech was splendid,” I told her when I met her on the corridor later in the day. She became my student in grades 11 and 12 and I watched her grow up into intellectual and emotional maturity. When I asked her to write a guest post on my blog, I ha

Life of a Transgender

Book Review Title: From Manjunath to Manjamma Authors: B Manjamma Jogathi with Harsha Bhat Publisher: HarperCollins India, 2023 Pages: 171 I had an aversion towards the transgender people I met on the trains during my frequent travels as a younger man. These people came across as rude and vulgar. They would enter the train compartment in a large group, clapping hands loudly, waking up sleeping passengers and insisting on being given generous alms. They would go to the extent of hectoring the passengers, even making physical intrusions like poking and caressing body parts that we won’t let strangers touch. Reading Arundhati Roy’s novel, The Ministry of Utmost Happiness , a few years ago, made me look at transpersons with some empathy. Anjum, the transperson protagonist, is also a Muslim. Double alienation. Anjum is an undesirable citizen of the country by virtue of being a transperson who is also a Muslim. She is pushed out of the mainstream literally and driven to living i

Vultures and Religion

When vultures become extinct, why should a religion face a threat? “When the vultures died off, they stopped eating the bodies of Zoroastrians…” I was amused as I went on reading the book The Final Farewell by Minakshi Dewan. The book is about how the dead are dealt with by people of different religious persuasions. Dead people are quite useless, unless you love euphemism. Or, as they say, dead people tell no tales. In the end, we are all just stories made by people like the religious woman who wrote the epitaph for her atheist husband: “Here lies an atheist, all dressed up and no place to go.” Zoroastrianism is a religion which converts death into a sordid tale by throwing the corpses of its believers to vultures. Death makes one impure, according to that religion. Well, I always thought, and still do, that life makes one impure. I have the support of Lord Buddha on that. Life is dukkha , said the Enlightened. That is, suffering, dissatisfaction and unease. Death is liberation

Ashwatthama is still alive

Fiction Image from Pinterest “I met Ashwatthama.” When Doctor Prabhakar told me this, I thought he was talking figuratively. Metaphors were his weaknesses. “The real virus is in the human heart, Jai,” he had told me when the pandemic named Covid-19 started holding the country hostage. I thought his Ashwatthama was similarly figurative. Ashwatthama was Dronacharya’s son in the Mahabharata. He was blessed with immortality by Shiva. But the blessing became a horrible curse when Krishna punished him for killing the Pandava kids deceptively after Kurukshetra was brought to peace, however fragile that peace was, using all the frauds that a god could possibly use. Krishna of the Kurukshetra was no less a fraud than a run-of-the-mill politician in my imagination. He could get an innocent elephant named Ashwatthama killed and then convert that killing into a blatant lie to demoralise Drona. He could ask Bhima to hit Duryodhana below the belt without feeling any moral qualms in what