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The Museum of Innocence
“It was the happiest moment of my life, though I didn’t know it.”
So begins the new novel, his first since winning the Nobel Prize, from the universally acclaimed author of Snow and My Name Is Red.
It is 1975, a perfect spring in Istanbul. Kemal, scion of one of the city’s wealthiest families, is about to become engaged to Sibel, daughter of another prominent family, when he encounters Füsun, a beautiful shopgirl and a distant relation. Once the long-lost cousins violate the code of virginity, a rift begins to open between Kemal and the world of the Westernized Istanbul bourgeosie—a world, as he lovingly describes it, with opulent parties and clubs, society gossip, restaurant rituals, picnics, and mansions on the Bosphorus, infused with the melancholy of decay—until finally he breaks off his engagement to Sibel. But his resolve comes too late.
For eight years Kemal will find excuses to visit another Istanbul, that of the impoverished backstreets where Füsun, her heart now hardened, lives with her parents, and where Kemal discovers the consolations of middle-class life at a dinner table in front of the television. His obsessive love will also take him to the demimonde of Istanbul film circles (where he promises to make Füsun a star), a scene of seedy bars, run-down cheap hotels, and small men with big dreams doomed to bitter failure. In his feckless pursuit, Kemal becomes a compulsive collector of objects that chronicle his lovelorn progress and his afflicted heart’s reactions: anger and impatience, remorse and humiliation, deluded hopes of recovery, and daydreams that transform Istanbul into a cityscape of signs and specters of his beloved, from whom now he can extract only meaningful glances and stolen kisses in cars, movie houses, and shadowy corners of parks. A last change to realize his dream will come to an awful end before Kemal discovers that all he finally can possess, certainly and eternally, is the museum he has created of his collection, this map of a society’s manners and mores, and of one man’s broken heart.
A stirring exploration of the nature of romantic attachment and of the mysterious allure of collecting, The Museum of Innocence also plumbs the depths of an Istanbul half Western and half traditional—its emergent modernity, its vast cultural history. This is Orhan Pamuk’s greatest achievement.
So begins the new novel, his first since winning the Nobel Prize, from the universally acclaimed author of Snow and My Name Is Red.
It is 1975, a perfect spring in Istanbul. Kemal, scion of one of the city’s wealthiest families, is about to become engaged to Sibel, daughter of another prominent family, when he encounters Füsun, a beautiful shopgirl and a distant relation. Once the long-lost cousins violate the code of virginity, a rift begins to open between Kemal and the world of the Westernized Istanbul bourgeosie—a world, as he lovingly describes it, with opulent parties and clubs, society gossip, restaurant rituals, picnics, and mansions on the Bosphorus, infused with the melancholy of decay—until finally he breaks off his engagement to Sibel. But his resolve comes too late.
For eight years Kemal will find excuses to visit another Istanbul, that of the impoverished backstreets where Füsun, her heart now hardened, lives with her parents, and where Kemal discovers the consolations of middle-class life at a dinner table in front of the television. His obsessive love will also take him to the demimonde of Istanbul film circles (where he promises to make Füsun a star), a scene of seedy bars, run-down cheap hotels, and small men with big dreams doomed to bitter failure. In his feckless pursuit, Kemal becomes a compulsive collector of objects that chronicle his lovelorn progress and his afflicted heart’s reactions: anger and impatience, remorse and humiliation, deluded hopes of recovery, and daydreams that transform Istanbul into a cityscape of signs and specters of his beloved, from whom now he can extract only meaningful glances and stolen kisses in cars, movie houses, and shadowy corners of parks. A last change to realize his dream will come to an awful end before Kemal discovers that all he finally can possess, certainly and eternally, is the museum he has created of his collection, this map of a society’s manners and mores, and of one man’s broken heart.
A stirring exploration of the nature of romantic attachment and of the mysterious allure of collecting, The Museum of Innocence also plumbs the depths of an Istanbul half Western and half traditional—its emergent modernity, its vast cultural history. This is Orhan Pamuk’s greatest achievement.
536 pages, Hardcover
First published September 1, 2008
3375 people are currently reading
33836 people want to read
About the author
Orhan Pamuk
115 books10.2k followersFerit Orhan Pamuk is a Turkish novelist, screenwriter, academic, and recipient of the 2006 Nobel Prize in Literature. One of Turkey's most prominent novelists, he has sold over 13 million books in 63 languages, making him the country's best-selling writer.
Pamuk's novels include Silent House, The White Castle, The Black Book, The New Life, My Name Is Red and Snow. He is the Robert Yik-Fong Tam Professor in the Humanities at Columbia University, where he teaches writing and comparative literature. He was elected to the American Philosophical Society in 2018.
Of partial Circassian descent and born in Istanbul, Pamuk is the first Turkish Nobel laureate. He is also the recipient of numerous other literary awards. My Name Is Red won the 2002 Prix du Meilleur Livre Étranger, 2002 Premio Grinzane Cavour and 2003 International Dublin Literary Award.
The European Writers' Parliament came about as a result of a joint proposal by Pamuk and José Saramago. Pamuk's willingness to write books about contentious historical and political events put him at risk of censure in his homeland. In 2005, a lawyer sued him over a statement acknowledging the Armenian genocide in the Ottoman Empire. Pamuk said his intention had been to highlight issues of freedom of speech in Turkey. The court initially declined to hear the case, but in 2011 Pamuk was ordered to pay 6,000 liras in compensation for having insulted the plaintiffs' honor.
Pamuk's novels include Silent House, The White Castle, The Black Book, The New Life, My Name Is Red and Snow. He is the Robert Yik-Fong Tam Professor in the Humanities at Columbia University, where he teaches writing and comparative literature. He was elected to the American Philosophical Society in 2018.
Of partial Circassian descent and born in Istanbul, Pamuk is the first Turkish Nobel laureate. He is also the recipient of numerous other literary awards. My Name Is Red won the 2002 Prix du Meilleur Livre Étranger, 2002 Premio Grinzane Cavour and 2003 International Dublin Literary Award.
The European Writers' Parliament came about as a result of a joint proposal by Pamuk and José Saramago. Pamuk's willingness to write books about contentious historical and political events put him at risk of censure in his homeland. In 2005, a lawyer sued him over a statement acknowledging the Armenian genocide in the Ottoman Empire. Pamuk said his intention had been to highlight issues of freedom of speech in Turkey. The court initially declined to hear the case, but in 2011 Pamuk was ordered to pay 6,000 liras in compensation for having insulted the plaintiffs' honor.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 3,851 reviews
October 16, 2011
Okay, I'm going to tell it as it is. Nobel-winning writer aside, this book is insufferable. I frankly don't understand the hype, the glowing reviews, attention from the New Yorker - this book is bad. Really bad.
The story revolves around a privileged man in Istanbul who has a short affair with a shopgirl and proceeds to become completely obsessed with her. So obsessed is he that after the girl marries someone else, he ends up sitting at their dinner table for the next 8 years.
When Kemal is not hopping around the latest upper-class Istanbul hotspots, he's becoming an expert kleptomaniac, pocketing everything around Füsun's house. He reports back about his activities with glee - "After having taken all those matchboxes, and Fusun's cigarette butts, and the saltshakers, the coffee cups, the hairpins, and the barrettes - things not difficult to pick up, because people rarely notice them missing - I began to set my sights on things like ashtrays, cups, and slippers…" Several pages later, we find out that "during my eight years of going to the Keskins' for supper, I was able to squirrel away 4,213 of Fusun's cigarette buts. Each one of these had touched her rosy lips and entered her mouth, some even touching her tongue and becoming moist [shock of all shocks!] as I would discover when I put my finger on the filter soon after she had stubbed the cigarette out; the stubs, reddened by her lovely lipstick, bore the unique impress of her lips at some moment whose memory was laden with anguish or bliss…"
There are plenty of signs that Kemal's obsession is not well received. Going back to cigarette stubbing, we find out that "sometimes she would stub it out with evident anger, sometimes with impatience. I had seen her stub out a cigarette in anger many times, and this caused me disquiet."
This might be an interesting storyline if it wasn't the same old hogwash repeating itself for 560 pages. There are entire chapters of this. Allow me to list out some chapter names for you: "The Melancholy of Autumn" is followed by "Cold and Lonely November Days". A few chapters later, there is a chapter titled "An Indignant and Broken Heart Is of No Use to Anyone."
Other reviewers have tried to find beauty in this book by its descriptions of Istanbul in the 1970's. Some have claimed that Pamuk's "museum" is a commemoration of a time and a place in Istanbul and that the book tries to showcase a lost culture. I disagree. Sure there are a few pages scattered here and there about Istanbul, and sure, the writing does shine in a few small segments. But the vast majority of the book is about Fusun's lips, tears, anger, family, dinners, cigarette butts, marriage, saltshakers, eyes, expressions and words. These discourses have only the most tangential relation to anything enlightening about 1970's Istanbul.
There is a disconcerting conceit about the author, when he introduces himself as a character - "This is how I came to seek out the esteemed Orhan Pamuk, who has narrated the story in my name and with my approval… I had also heard that he was a man lovingly devoted to his work and who took storytelling seriously." There is a lot more self-advertising in this book, but I won't delve into it. Suffice it to say that I really suffered through this book and would have abandoned it were it not so bad that I spent most of my time thinking about how I would justify such a critical review of such a well-hyped book.
The story revolves around a privileged man in Istanbul who has a short affair with a shopgirl and proceeds to become completely obsessed with her. So obsessed is he that after the girl marries someone else, he ends up sitting at their dinner table for the next 8 years.
When Kemal is not hopping around the latest upper-class Istanbul hotspots, he's becoming an expert kleptomaniac, pocketing everything around Füsun's house. He reports back about his activities with glee - "After having taken all those matchboxes, and Fusun's cigarette butts, and the saltshakers, the coffee cups, the hairpins, and the barrettes - things not difficult to pick up, because people rarely notice them missing - I began to set my sights on things like ashtrays, cups, and slippers…" Several pages later, we find out that "during my eight years of going to the Keskins' for supper, I was able to squirrel away 4,213 of Fusun's cigarette buts. Each one of these had touched her rosy lips and entered her mouth, some even touching her tongue and becoming moist [shock of all shocks!] as I would discover when I put my finger on the filter soon after she had stubbed the cigarette out; the stubs, reddened by her lovely lipstick, bore the unique impress of her lips at some moment whose memory was laden with anguish or bliss…"
There are plenty of signs that Kemal's obsession is not well received. Going back to cigarette stubbing, we find out that "sometimes she would stub it out with evident anger, sometimes with impatience. I had seen her stub out a cigarette in anger many times, and this caused me disquiet."
This might be an interesting storyline if it wasn't the same old hogwash repeating itself for 560 pages. There are entire chapters of this. Allow me to list out some chapter names for you: "The Melancholy of Autumn" is followed by "Cold and Lonely November Days". A few chapters later, there is a chapter titled "An Indignant and Broken Heart Is of No Use to Anyone."
Other reviewers have tried to find beauty in this book by its descriptions of Istanbul in the 1970's. Some have claimed that Pamuk's "museum" is a commemoration of a time and a place in Istanbul and that the book tries to showcase a lost culture. I disagree. Sure there are a few pages scattered here and there about Istanbul, and sure, the writing does shine in a few small segments. But the vast majority of the book is about Fusun's lips, tears, anger, family, dinners, cigarette butts, marriage, saltshakers, eyes, expressions and words. These discourses have only the most tangential relation to anything enlightening about 1970's Istanbul.
There is a disconcerting conceit about the author, when he introduces himself as a character - "This is how I came to seek out the esteemed Orhan Pamuk, who has narrated the story in my name and with my approval… I had also heard that he was a man lovingly devoted to his work and who took storytelling seriously." There is a lot more self-advertising in this book, but I won't delve into it. Suffice it to say that I really suffered through this book and would have abandoned it were it not so bad that I spent most of my time thinking about how I would justify such a critical review of such a well-hyped book.
December 19, 2009
(Additional notes below)
One thing I just realized, whenever I am about to finish reading a book, usually some sketchy ideas or sentences appear in my mind, so that right after I finish it, I can just open Goodreads, rate the book and write those ideas. I am also usually satisfied after writing three or four paragraphs, feeling that I have said what I have to say. But, I can't do that with Pamuk's books.
The night I finished this book, I was sitting at my desk with my hands laid on the closed book. I was staring past the glare of my computer screen. I smiled. Yes, I did smile! I slept soundly that night too. Rather victoriously..
I felt that I had just concluded a life story of a dear friend whom I know so well. He was in love. A love that tortured him, exhilarated him, inspired him to do mad things for "normal" people. "Normal" meaning people who are not in love.
Reading this book was not all a joyride. There were moments, when obsession really caught Kemal, whom later I called a friend just because I know so much about him, that I wanted to slap him in the face and say "Wake up! Enough already! Stop being this pathetic and get a life, man!" Of course, he didn't do that. I almost stopped reading at this point. That is how rich and heavy Pamuk can describe obsession.
Then the story took its turn and the mood was changing. I was exhausted. I read a review somewhere that the love would not end happily as in fairy tales. Somehow tragic love story is more worth writing, so they say. So, I didn't have much hope for the bright light at the end of the tunnel. I just wanted to complete the journey. I was prepared for the worst.
But Pamuk is such a master story-teller. He didn't just give you a relief from this journey. He took you to another path. A heroic one. A path that only a mad person would take. Well, mad.. or brave. Or simply in love!
This crazy friend of mine was not set to build a Taj Mahal for his love. But a museum! A place where Time becomes Space. I know I will never look at a museum in the way I used to.
Humorous element gave an extra flavour to the already rich taste in the last part of the book. I like when Pamuk himself appeared on the stage and interacted with his own creations, tying up loose ends and wrapping up the story with a victorious last sentence. For those who haven't read the book or are still reading it: Yes, you can take a peek at it first if you want to. But I would rather leave it for later :-)
=====
Additional note:
Finally Michael Silverblatt, the host of KCRW Bookworm podcast, interviewed Orhan Pamuk. So far, Silverblatt is the best talk show host for writers. Being an avid reader himself, his questions are insightful and often surprising to the writers themselves because he presents a point of view that the writers haven't thought of.
You can listen to the podcast here:
http://www.kcrw.com/etc/programs/bw/b...
One thing I just realized, whenever I am about to finish reading a book, usually some sketchy ideas or sentences appear in my mind, so that right after I finish it, I can just open Goodreads, rate the book and write those ideas. I am also usually satisfied after writing three or four paragraphs, feeling that I have said what I have to say. But, I can't do that with Pamuk's books.
The night I finished this book, I was sitting at my desk with my hands laid on the closed book. I was staring past the glare of my computer screen. I smiled. Yes, I did smile! I slept soundly that night too. Rather victoriously..
I felt that I had just concluded a life story of a dear friend whom I know so well. He was in love. A love that tortured him, exhilarated him, inspired him to do mad things for "normal" people. "Normal" meaning people who are not in love.
Reading this book was not all a joyride. There were moments, when obsession really caught Kemal, whom later I called a friend just because I know so much about him, that I wanted to slap him in the face and say "Wake up! Enough already! Stop being this pathetic and get a life, man!" Of course, he didn't do that. I almost stopped reading at this point. That is how rich and heavy Pamuk can describe obsession.
Then the story took its turn and the mood was changing. I was exhausted. I read a review somewhere that the love would not end happily as in fairy tales. Somehow tragic love story is more worth writing, so they say. So, I didn't have much hope for the bright light at the end of the tunnel. I just wanted to complete the journey. I was prepared for the worst.
But Pamuk is such a master story-teller. He didn't just give you a relief from this journey. He took you to another path. A heroic one. A path that only a mad person would take. Well, mad.. or brave. Or simply in love!
This crazy friend of mine was not set to build a Taj Mahal for his love. But a museum! A place where Time becomes Space. I know I will never look at a museum in the way I used to.
Humorous element gave an extra flavour to the already rich taste in the last part of the book. I like when Pamuk himself appeared on the stage and interacted with his own creations, tying up loose ends and wrapping up the story with a victorious last sentence. For those who haven't read the book or are still reading it: Yes, you can take a peek at it first if you want to. But I would rather leave it for later :-)
=====
Additional note:
Finally Michael Silverblatt, the host of KCRW Bookworm podcast, interviewed Orhan Pamuk. So far, Silverblatt is the best talk show host for writers. Being an avid reader himself, his questions are insightful and often surprising to the writers themselves because he presents a point of view that the writers haven't thought of.
You can listen to the podcast here:
http://www.kcrw.com/etc/programs/bw/b...
July 5, 2010
I must confess that for the last five years, I have had a love and hate relationship with Orhan Pamuk (I also had a similar relationship with Charles Dickens, but that’s another matter altogether).
Pamuk’s style is meticulous and ornate, intensely introspective, sometimes deliberately repetitive, shot through with that particular Turkish kind of melancholy called ‘huzun’. At his best, his prose achieves a poetic, hypnotic quality that makes My Name Is Red such a compelling, mesmerizing read. But what John Updike described as a Proustian ‘arabesques of introspection’ could also easily devolve into interminable navel gazing that makes wading through his novels, such as The White Castle, a ponderous undertaking. This novel is a mixed bag of both the strengths and weaknesses of his style.
It begins promisingly enough with a love triangle between Kemal, the young scion of one of Istanbul’s wealthiest family, Sibel, his Sorbonne-educated fiancée, and Fusun, a poor, distant relation who happens to be a nubile 18 year-old beauty contest finalist. Their illicit romance, consummated in an empty apartment filled with his mother’s abandoned possessions (surely there’s a Freudian subtext here?), slowly consumes Kemal’s life, and yet he still clings to Sibel, who is not only understanding but is also willing to nurse him through lovesickness for her rival. This earlier part of the novel is quite compelling, although the eroticism occasionally veers towards the graphically icky territory (“As our kisses grew even longer, a honeyed pool of warm saliva gathered in the great cave that was our mouths combined, sometimes leaking a little down our chins…”). However, as Sibel finally gives up on her errant fiancée and Fusun contracts a reputation-saving shotgun marriage to an aspiring screenwriter, Kemal (and the narrative) becomes bogged down in a mire of repetitive, increasingly self-indulgent ruminations. This part depicts eight years of the characters’ lives in which the following happens:
1. Kemal hangs out with Fusun, her husband, and her parents;
2. while with her, he is transcendentally moved by some gesture or words from his beloved;
3. he steals (“collects”) things that remind him of such moments, such as the soda bottle that she drank from, the saltshaker that she used during dinner, the ceramic dog figurine that sat on top of her TV, cigarette butts (all 4,213 of them, meticulously classified according to how they were crushed),etc. He then carefully stores these items in the empty apartment and sometimes mouths them when he misses her;
4. he makes feeble, half-hearted attempts at producing a movie in which she is going to star in, but is eventually too repulsed by the notion that she will have to do a kissing scene --- or worse, be pawed over by actors and directors --- that he never goes through with it;
5. Fusun pouts and sulks;
6. Kemal is devastated;
7. repeat.
This goes on for hundreds of pages. There is a chapter titled ‘Sometimes’ (in which every sentence begins with that word) which contains nothing but random snippets of their daily life. It is cute for one or two pages, but exhausting as a chapter-length exercise.
I began to scan the pages. How long is this thing going to be on?
And then suddenly there was a twist in the story and it became good --- really good. I couldn’t stop reading --- and hoping. I forgave Kemal for being a borderline creep with his ‘collecting’ and I forgave Fusun for being so wrapped up in her acting ambition. I wanted them to drive away into the sunset in Kemal’s ’56 Chevrolet and live happily ever after in a Turkish dreamland.
And it all ends in a sigh --- a big sigh.
And suddenly you understand everything: the years of waiting, the lifetime of remembering, the significance of mundane things, the obsession with collecting, and why there is a need for so many museums in this world.
“In poetically well built museums, formed from the heart’s compulsions, we are consoled not by finding in them old objects that we love, but by losing sense of Time.”
Pamuk’s style is meticulous and ornate, intensely introspective, sometimes deliberately repetitive, shot through with that particular Turkish kind of melancholy called ‘huzun’. At his best, his prose achieves a poetic, hypnotic quality that makes My Name Is Red such a compelling, mesmerizing read. But what John Updike described as a Proustian ‘arabesques of introspection’ could also easily devolve into interminable navel gazing that makes wading through his novels, such as The White Castle, a ponderous undertaking. This novel is a mixed bag of both the strengths and weaknesses of his style.
It begins promisingly enough with a love triangle between Kemal, the young scion of one of Istanbul’s wealthiest family, Sibel, his Sorbonne-educated fiancée, and Fusun, a poor, distant relation who happens to be a nubile 18 year-old beauty contest finalist. Their illicit romance, consummated in an empty apartment filled with his mother’s abandoned possessions (surely there’s a Freudian subtext here?), slowly consumes Kemal’s life, and yet he still clings to Sibel, who is not only understanding but is also willing to nurse him through lovesickness for her rival. This earlier part of the novel is quite compelling, although the eroticism occasionally veers towards the graphically icky territory (“As our kisses grew even longer, a honeyed pool of warm saliva gathered in the great cave that was our mouths combined, sometimes leaking a little down our chins…”). However, as Sibel finally gives up on her errant fiancée and Fusun contracts a reputation-saving shotgun marriage to an aspiring screenwriter, Kemal (and the narrative) becomes bogged down in a mire of repetitive, increasingly self-indulgent ruminations. This part depicts eight years of the characters’ lives in which the following happens:
1. Kemal hangs out with Fusun, her husband, and her parents;
2. while with her, he is transcendentally moved by some gesture or words from his beloved;
3. he steals (“collects”) things that remind him of such moments, such as the soda bottle that she drank from, the saltshaker that she used during dinner, the ceramic dog figurine that sat on top of her TV, cigarette butts (all 4,213 of them, meticulously classified according to how they were crushed),etc. He then carefully stores these items in the empty apartment and sometimes mouths them when he misses her;
4. he makes feeble, half-hearted attempts at producing a movie in which she is going to star in, but is eventually too repulsed by the notion that she will have to do a kissing scene --- or worse, be pawed over by actors and directors --- that he never goes through with it;
5. Fusun pouts and sulks;
6. Kemal is devastated;
7. repeat.
This goes on for hundreds of pages. There is a chapter titled ‘Sometimes’ (in which every sentence begins with that word) which contains nothing but random snippets of their daily life. It is cute for one or two pages, but exhausting as a chapter-length exercise.
I began to scan the pages. How long is this thing going to be on?
And then suddenly there was a twist in the story and it became good --- really good. I couldn’t stop reading --- and hoping. I forgave Kemal for being a borderline creep with his ‘collecting’ and I forgave Fusun for being so wrapped up in her acting ambition. I wanted them to drive away into the sunset in Kemal’s ’56 Chevrolet and live happily ever after in a Turkish dreamland.
And it all ends in a sigh --- a big sigh.
And suddenly you understand everything: the years of waiting, the lifetime of remembering, the significance of mundane things, the obsession with collecting, and why there is a need for so many museums in this world.
“In poetically well built museums, formed from the heart’s compulsions, we are consoled not by finding in them old objects that we love, but by losing sense of Time.”
November 14, 2012
An extremely tedious, depressing read.
I can honestly say that I read the first 150 pages, and then started skimming the rest (which I NEVER do, since I love reading) in search for dialogue.It is so melancholy and slow.
It reminded me of being in a room with an extremely self absorbed person, who blabbers on and on, touching the same points over and over again without really any concern if you're listening or not.
The writing style is also overly detailed, describing dry conversations with business associates, the Turkish movie industry, and one entire chapter was dedicated to a discussion about a clock in Fusun's home. Absolutely unnecessary!
It starts out well enough, with an interesting love triangle between Kemal, Fusun, and Sibel. I had high hopes that Kemal would take the high road and do the right thing (that is, break off his relationship with Sibel right away and start his pursuit of Fusun).
But NO! I did not feel an ounce of compassion for Kemal's plight. He was arrogant enough to think himself lucky to have a fiancée and mistress. He considered himself as part of an elite group of men happy enough to entertain the thought of having a wife and lover on the side.
In short, WHAT AN ASSHOLE!
I could see that he loved Fusun (or at the very least, was infatuated), but he didn't respect her enough to do what was right and break off his engagement to Sibel as soon as he started having an affair.
I felt extremely frustrated that it was Sibel, NOT Kemal, who eventually broke off the engagement.
My only consolation is that Kemal later acknowledges that he had been terribly irresponsible. Damn rights!
There was also a significant creep factor to Kemal's obsession with Fusun. I can sympathize that a parting gift to remind you of lost love can be soothing. But he takes his to a whole new level!
I hated him describing how he had a pair of her white panties on display in the museum (seriously??? Not cool, dude).
And how he'd "mouth" certain things he stole from her? Ewwww. Or how he'd try to imitate her and in some way, become Fusun? What a nut job.
But, being the romantic that I am, I rooted for them to end up together in the end. And when they finally do, I was elated! This whole depressing, awful book had suddenly been worth it. And then what happens?
Fusun dies! I won't give away all the details about how that happens, but it left me feeling as if the book had been meaningless.
Take two irresponsible, immature people, add sex to the equation and what do you get? An absolute disaster.
I had been excited to read this book, as I would love to see Turkey someday and thought it would be an incredible romance. But it ended up being horrible.
I can't believe this book has received so many 4 or 5 star ratings.
I can honestly say that I read the first 150 pages, and then started skimming the rest (which I NEVER do, since I love reading) in search for dialogue.It is so melancholy and slow.
It reminded me of being in a room with an extremely self absorbed person, who blabbers on and on, touching the same points over and over again without really any concern if you're listening or not.
The writing style is also overly detailed, describing dry conversations with business associates, the Turkish movie industry, and one entire chapter was dedicated to a discussion about a clock in Fusun's home. Absolutely unnecessary!
It starts out well enough, with an interesting love triangle between Kemal, Fusun, and Sibel. I had high hopes that Kemal would take the high road and do the right thing (that is, break off his relationship with Sibel right away and start his pursuit of Fusun).
But NO! I did not feel an ounce of compassion for Kemal's plight. He was arrogant enough to think himself lucky to have a fiancée and mistress. He considered himself as part of an elite group of men happy enough to entertain the thought of having a wife and lover on the side.
In short, WHAT AN ASSHOLE!
I could see that he loved Fusun (or at the very least, was infatuated), but he didn't respect her enough to do what was right and break off his engagement to Sibel as soon as he started having an affair.
I felt extremely frustrated that it was Sibel, NOT Kemal, who eventually broke off the engagement.
My only consolation is that Kemal later acknowledges that he had been terribly irresponsible. Damn rights!
There was also a significant creep factor to Kemal's obsession with Fusun. I can sympathize that a parting gift to remind you of lost love can be soothing. But he takes his to a whole new level!
I hated him describing how he had a pair of her white panties on display in the museum (seriously??? Not cool, dude).
And how he'd "mouth" certain things he stole from her? Ewwww. Or how he'd try to imitate her and in some way, become Fusun? What a nut job.
But, being the romantic that I am, I rooted for them to end up together in the end. And when they finally do, I was elated! This whole depressing, awful book had suddenly been worth it. And then what happens?
Fusun dies! I won't give away all the details about how that happens, but it left me feeling as if the book had been meaningless.
Take two irresponsible, immature people, add sex to the equation and what do you get? An absolute disaster.
I had been excited to read this book, as I would love to see Turkey someday and thought it would be an incredible romance. But it ended up being horrible.
I can't believe this book has received so many 4 or 5 star ratings.
May 14, 2025
"A museum of memories, each object a key,
To the love that lived,but was never meant to be."
"What if love isn’t meant to be lived—but something to recall endlessly?"-That’s what The Museum of Innocence made me ask. This book didn’t feel like fiction—it felt like trespassing into someone’s private grief. A love so consuming, it needed a museum to hold it. A heartbreak so vast, it turned a man into a curator of pain. Welcome to a world where love isn’t just a feeling—it’s a memory, a place, a museum. his isn’t your average love story; it’s a slow-burning journey of longing, where the heart never lets go, even when the reality is cruel. Kemal, in his desperation, builds a museum to preserve the fragments of his fleeting love—a shrine of things she touched, things she left behind. What happens when devotion blurs into madness, and longing becomes a shrine? This isn’t just a love story—it’s a question of what we’re willing to do for love when it’s lost forever.
Orhan Pamuk’s The Museum of Innocence isn’t just a love story—it's an elegy, an obsession, a memoir of longing that tiptoes between the personal and the political, the nostalgic and the neurotic. Set in Istanbul between the 1970s and early 2000s, this Turkish classic is a slow-burn descent into the psyche of Kemal Bey, a wealthy man who spends his life trying to preserve a moment of happiness with a woman he could never truly have. I don’t know what it is with Turkish literature and longing, but God — it undoes me. We love pathetic, yearning men.. First Madonna in a Fur Coat, and now this. There’s a distinct kind of ache in these books, a bruise that never quite heals, a man who waits, mourns, obsesses..
“Sometimes, we simply collect the dust of what we’ve lost.”
🍂Key Points
We meet Kemal, a privileged man from Istanbul's elite, engaged to a woman from his own class, Sibel. But everything shifts the moment he falls for Füsun, his distant relative—young, dazzling, and utterly unreachable. Their brief, stolen affair transforms into a lifelong obsession. An obsession that costs him everything.
Kemal loses Füsun, but instead of moving on, he builds a museum. Yes. A real museum. A place to store the memories of her—earrings, cigarette butts, hairpins, napkins—all the mundane objects that become sacred simply because she once touched them.
This isn’t about romance—it’s about devotion. The haunting kind. The irrational kind. The kind that turns a man into a curator of his own heartbreak.
🪄Themes: Obsession,Yearnings, Memory, and Istanbul Itself..
Pamuk doesn’t just write about a man in love—he writes about a city in love with its own contradictions. Istanbul is not a backdrop but a breathing, aging character. The city’s transformation mirrors Kemal’s personal decline, its modernization underscoring his desperate need to cling to the past.
Objects in this book carry more emotional weight than most dialogue. A dropped earring, a comb, a cigarette butt—all become sacred relics in Kemal’s private shrine to Füsun. The museum he builds is literal and metaphorical, a manifestation of the very human desire to freeze time, to curate memory, to make pain beautiful.
"Some people collect stamps. He collected her — every glass she drank from, every hairpin,ear-rings she lost,every cigarette she smoke, every second she looked at him like he mattered. Give me A pathetic, love-sick Turkish man, building a shrine of memories for a woman who was never his."🥀
Füsun gets married. Kemal waits. She drifts in and out of his orbit. He waits. Years pass. He keeps visiting her home, eats with her family, smiles through her husband’s bad jokes, collects the things she touches, and stores them in boxes — all while his heart bleeds quietly on the floor. It’s not just love. It’s delusion turned devotion. Madness dressed as memory.
"Anytime I entered the house of an evening and our eyes met, it was like a conquest. In spite of everything, and no matter what had happened to dash my hopes and my pride, there was the glory of being here once more, and most of the time I saw the light of the same happiness in Füsun’s eyes. Or so I would believe, and, convinced that my stubbornness, my resolve had made an impression on her, I would find my life’s beauty was restored."
"May happiness be yours, and may the memories be mine."
🏷️Where it lost me:
-Kemal Bey.
He yearns, yes. But at first it’s not the kind of yearning that redeems..
He was 30. She was 18.
He was engaged. She was his distant cousin- a young girl.
He touched her with the hands meant for another. But let’s be real, at first, it was a fling, a fleeting sign.
He teaches her math,They kiss, they make love. Rinse, repeat.
-It was passion, yes—but not always depth.
-The pacing. It’s long. 700 pages long. And for what? Half of it could’ve been trimmed. There’s beauty in detail, yes, but some parts felt exaggerated and self-indulgent. Like Kemal, the novel refuses to let go. It lingers, obsessed.
“This thing you thought was love—it was just a passing obsession.”- Kemal thought he was the one suffering. But Sibel? His fiancé!?
Still there’s a part of me that understood his loneliness. That soft, hollow space where guilt, nostalgia, and desire blur into something that feels like love.
And maybe that’s what this book is about — not love itself, but the idea of love. The fantasy of it. The unbearable weight of memory. Because some people don’t move on. And that is a story too. One worth telling.
"Once you were my sweetheart,
I yearned for you even when you were near.
Now you’ve found another love,
May happiness be yours,
And mine the trials and troubles.
Let life be yours, be yours."
✒️The writing?Gorgeous. Pamuk’s Istanbul is a city drenched in sunlight and regret, where every dusty shop window, every bus ride, every worn-out street corner carries a memory.
The atmosphere — tender, cinematic, still as a paused breath.
You can feel the perfume, the heat, the slow passage of time.
🍁Final sigh!-After the accident that took Füsun’s life, Kemal didn't just grieve her — he immortalized her. Every spoon she touched, every cigarette she smoked, every moment they shared became sacred. His love turned into a museum, a mausoleum, a madness. And in the end, he died the way he lived — wrapped in memory, clutching a photograph, telling the world he had been happy.
His death, quiet and solitary in a hotel room after a life devoted to love and memory, feels hauntingly poetic, doesn’t it? Especially dying on Füsun’s birthday—Orhan Pamuk really knows how to end with a gut-punch.
He kissed Füsun’s photograph lovingly, and placed it with care into the breast pocket of his jacket. Then he smiled -Let everyone know I lived a very happy life
“This isn’t just a love story—it’s an archive of ache, a shrine of memory, and a man’s lifelong vow to never, ever forget. Kemal Bey? He doesn’t just fall in love—he builds a damn museum. Because when you're in love with something that was never yours, you make sure the world knows. Every earring, every hairpin, every cigarette butt... they’re not just objects; they’re relics of a love that never stopped burning.”
Like imagine… you're married to someone else, and this man just shows up for dinner at your house for eight years straight, collecting the napkin you wiped your mouth with. That’s not love—that’s devotion dressed as delusion wrapped in nostalgia, garnished with a touch of madness 😭
The real-life Museum of Innocence in Istanbul is a further manifestation of this idea, allowing visitors to experience the objects that represent the novel's story, blending the fictional world of Kemal and Füsun with the tangible world of the reader. It's a unique way of creating a connection between the imagination and reality.
જ⁀➴♡Lingering reflections "The Museum of Innocence" by Orhan Pamuk had a promising premise, but ultimately, it left me feeling a bit disengaged. Ultimately, The Museum of Innocence is a tale of unrelenting love and the passage of time. It invites readers to reflect on how love can shape our identities, leave lasting legacies, and sometimes turn into something more tragic than beautiful. Kemal’s creation of a museum to preserve the memory of Füsun is a bittersweet conclusion to a life spent in longing—a tribute to a love that could never be.
3/5★★★☆☆ -“If this book were a season, it would be late autumn—quiet, aching, and brown.” If Madonna in a Fur Coat is about love lost too soon, The Museum of Innocence is about never letting go — until love rots in your hands.
If you’ve ever kept an old ticket stub or stared too long at a photograph, this book will find you.
February 24, 2021
متحف أورهان باموق يعرض تفاصيل حالة عشق ما بين البهجة والألم
يضم معالم ولحظات ومشاعر تبقى للذكرى
يكتب باموق عن أثر الحب والفراق على النفس والجسد
وعن المجتمع التركي بطبقاته ومعتقداته في النصف الثاني من القرن العشرين
والتأثُر بأفكار وأسلوب الغرب في المعيشة والعلاقات
الأسلوب سلس وفيه معاني جميلة كثيرة متناثرة في السرد
بجانب الاستغراق في التفاصيل والإطالة في بعض الأجزاء
الترجمة جيدة والرواية آخر ما ترجمه الكاتب والمترجم السوري الراحل عبد القادر عبد اللي
يضم معالم ولحظات ومشاعر تبقى للذكرى
يكتب باموق عن أثر الحب والفراق على النفس والجسد
وعن المجتمع التركي بطبقاته ومعتقداته في النصف الثاني من القرن العشرين
والتأثُر بأفكار وأسلوب الغرب في المعيشة والعلاقات
الأسلوب سلس وفيه معاني جميلة كثيرة متناثرة في السرد
بجانب الاستغراق في التفاصيل والإطالة في بعض الأجزاء
الترجمة جيدة والرواية آخر ما ترجمه الكاتب والمترجم السوري الراحل عبد القادر عبد اللي
October 30, 2015
Wow!!!!!!!!
Update: WOW!!!!!
NOTE: Some people may think ..."what is she talking about?" ...nails on a chalkboard & obsessive? Yes...'sometimes'...but My God --in the best of all ways!! The writing is beyond gorgeous -and the story --OMG!
I own this book! (Sorry...'not' giving it away).
When I saw that Steve-goodreads member, was reading the 'not yet' released book, "A Strangeness in My Mind" --due out in a couple of days --I was a little envious! :)
Istanbul: "A Love letter to a City"....(nobody could write it better than Orhan Pamuk)!
Update: WOW!!!!!
NOTE: Some people may think ..."what is she talking about?" ...nails on a chalkboard & obsessive? Yes...'sometimes'...but My God --in the best of all ways!! The writing is beyond gorgeous -and the story --OMG!
I own this book! (Sorry...'not' giving it away).
When I saw that Steve-goodreads member, was reading the 'not yet' released book, "A Strangeness in My Mind" --due out in a couple of days --I was a little envious! :)
Istanbul: "A Love letter to a City"....(nobody could write it better than Orhan Pamuk)!
December 27, 2013
“Time had not faded my memories (as I had prayed to God it might), nor had it healed my wounds as it is said always to do. I began each day with the hope that the next day would be better, my recollections a little less pointed, but I would awake to the same pain, as if a black lamp were burning eternally inside me, radiating darkness.”
— Orhan Pamuk, The Museum of Innocence
I must say, when I first started reading this book, I groaned inwardly. I had come across it while I was researching the Turkish word huzun (melancholia). However, I’m not a big fan of books with romantic storylines (I had my fill as a teen), and when I found out this particular romantic storyline was between two cousins, Kemal, a rich 30 year old who happens to be engaged, and 18 year old Fusun, a poor shopkeeper, I groaned even more.
Kemal is creepy! His obsession with Fusun didn’t sound believable at all to me. He gets to the point of collecting all of Fusun’s cigarette butts for his museum which is in honour of her, as well as other knick-knacks. I don’t think many men would collect their loved one’s cigarette butts and label them by date collected. Kemal reminds me a bit of Bella from Twilight in the sense that he dumps all his friends and family to obsessively mope over his love. This particular sort of angst isn’t becoming in someone over the age of 16.
The book did have some redeeming points. I’ve never read any books set in Turkey before and Pamuk sets the book in an interesting time period (the 1970s) when Turkey was still traditional but moving towards the modern. On top of that, there’s the political unrest. I think that made the story slightly more interesting. Discussions on the clashes of cultures between traditional Turkey and modern Turkey, including Turkish elites who had been educated in Europe and America, were interesting. I wish this part had been elaborated more because I would have liked a more in-depth comparison.
I got annoyed by the one-dimensional portrayal of women. I feel that Kemal only fell in love with Fusun because she was beautiful and had entered a beauty pageant. Kemal’s fiancée stayed with him despite knowing he cheated. Women were obviously looked at as mere trophies. Then again, that’s true in a lot of places even now.
I did get a Proustian feel while reading it. The protagonist’s musings were indeed very introspective but more obsessive than Proust’s, obsessive to a point that they didn’t seem believable, I’d say. Kemal was definitely absolutely obsessed and extreme but reading his thoughts was interesting.
Maybe not the best book to read on Christmas day but I'm glad I finally read something by Pamuk.
— Orhan Pamuk, The Museum of Innocence
I must say, when I first started reading this book, I groaned inwardly. I had come across it while I was researching the Turkish word huzun (melancholia). However, I’m not a big fan of books with romantic storylines (I had my fill as a teen), and when I found out this particular romantic storyline was between two cousins, Kemal, a rich 30 year old who happens to be engaged, and 18 year old Fusun, a poor shopkeeper, I groaned even more.
Kemal is creepy! His obsession with Fusun didn’t sound believable at all to me. He gets to the point of collecting all of Fusun’s cigarette butts for his museum which is in honour of her, as well as other knick-knacks. I don’t think many men would collect their loved one’s cigarette butts and label them by date collected. Kemal reminds me a bit of Bella from Twilight in the sense that he dumps all his friends and family to obsessively mope over his love. This particular sort of angst isn’t becoming in someone over the age of 16.
The book did have some redeeming points. I’ve never read any books set in Turkey before and Pamuk sets the book in an interesting time period (the 1970s) when Turkey was still traditional but moving towards the modern. On top of that, there’s the political unrest. I think that made the story slightly more interesting. Discussions on the clashes of cultures between traditional Turkey and modern Turkey, including Turkish elites who had been educated in Europe and America, were interesting. I wish this part had been elaborated more because I would have liked a more in-depth comparison.
I got annoyed by the one-dimensional portrayal of women. I feel that Kemal only fell in love with Fusun because she was beautiful and had entered a beauty pageant. Kemal’s fiancée stayed with him despite knowing he cheated. Women were obviously looked at as mere trophies. Then again, that’s true in a lot of places even now.
I did get a Proustian feel while reading it. The protagonist’s musings were indeed very introspective but more obsessive than Proust’s, obsessive to a point that they didn’t seem believable, I’d say. Kemal was definitely absolutely obsessed and extreme but reading his thoughts was interesting.
Maybe not the best book to read on Christmas day but I'm glad I finally read something by Pamuk.
October 22, 2019
Orhan Pamuk. Why have I waited so long to experience your writing? Because that is what this was. An experience. The Museum of Innocence has a deceitfully simple premise. Kemal Bey, from one of the wealthiest, more prominent families in Turkish society, is to be married to the lovely Sibel, daughter of a diplomat. She is well educated, beautiful, resourceful, well matched for his family even; no one can be anything but ecstatic at their engagement party, where they are on display for all of the nouveau riche to see. No one, that is, except for a young lycée graduate from the poor lower class family named Fusun. Having met only months ago when Kemal came into the gift store where she is employed for a purse for Sibel, the two lovers have since begun a series of rendezvous & barely hidden trysts that, now started, cannot be ended without great pain, trials, & sacrifices. Even worse, though Kemal (through a complex series of cognitive deceptions) is not aware of it at the time, his attachment to young Fusun has become so rich, so deep, so "fated", so obsessive, that the groom to be himself shares her sentiments.
Although Sibel is obviously devastated when she finds out, she remains with him for months after, trying to support his "recovery". This, of course, is not to be. His love, his obsession with Fusun inevitably leads to the abandonment of his fiancée, a near perfect marriage/family, the family company, his status in Turkish societies, & many of his closest friends as he devotes almost another decade "winning Fusun back" (whom is now herself married). He visits Fusun four to five times a week for eight years, ingratiating himself with her family; they become more family to him than his own as the years elapse. He even becomes friends, then business partners, with Fusun's aspiring film director husband Feridun. Serving as a cover for his frequent visits to the Kreskin household is his monetary support on Lemon Films, which in turn supports an interestingly complex but unstated understanding between Kemal and Feridun, whom are both vying for the same young lady; sadly, the more deeply felt, true love is hidden, unable to be discussed, while the neatly arranged marriage founded on convenience and something closer to an affinity is what everyone openly imagines and acknowledges. Reading about Turkish cinema, the difficulties with the censor board, young stars trying to remain chaste in the harsh eyes of the public; Kemal and Feridun networking in local bars, Kemal and Fusun watching both Turkish and international films in classic theaters together, first with Feridun then without, first as distant cousins that avoid acknowledging each other, then looking at each other under the soft glow of lights with as much passion and devotion as any long married husband and wife, holding hands with such delicate coyness, I was reminded of something akin to Lolita, The Unbearable Lightness Of Being, Cinema Paradiso, Amelie. There is whimsy, love, loyalty, unstated values, honor and chaste societal expectations, secrets, obsession, mystery, and many illogical decisions in the name of love.
Indeed, his life is completely transformed; though his life continues, for the most part Kemal Bey lives for one purpose, one aim, one girl. As the love story came to a conclusion, I was aware of the thought that this was the first time, at least in quite some time, that such a detailed, complex, saga-like, epic-akin storyline was written to conclusion with such perfection. It was not necessarily an expected, clear, neat ending, but any ambiguity, any decisions the author made that I did not agree with, was unable to remove the smile from my face, the warm, cozy feeling inside as if I had had a warm cup of hot chocolate.
Then, what do you know, another part of Kemal's story begins. The perfect book gets better. He outlines his single minded determination to establish The Museum Of Innocence. Pamuk insightfully forays into the psychology of collecting, collectors, their collections. What makes these people pursue such a passion? Is it true that it is always reflective of a psychological flaw? At what point does a respected, admired endeavor become an obsession? An unappreciated flaw? Which is correct, the "proud" Western collector, whom strives to display there collections for public appreciation? The "bashful" Non-Western collector whom hides it, shunned by their peers? A museum connoisseur myself, I truly loved reading about all the real life museums and/or private collections Kemal visited worldwide as he reflected on his life this far, lived for Fusun.
This is what I cherish about fiction. Nonfiction "Elitist" Readers question the value of fiction. The right amount of disconnect from real life, what they do not realize, is necessary for full absorption of topics that may be uninteresting otherwise. There is so much more to learn, question, explore, discover in fiction in ways more beautiful than the straight facts of nonfiction can.
Throughout the main novel, Kemal Bey refers to Orhan Pamuk a few times, and I loved that an author would put himself in his novel, especially when he was sometimes referred to in a negative way. A great author should always know how to laugh at himself! At the end of The Museum Of Innocence, we learn that Kemal Bey hired Pamuk to write what we have finished reading in his voice. His aim was to have readers really know his story, his Fusun, his life. As readers, a free admission to his Museum has been placed between to paragraphs of text in the last few pages. He tells Orhan Pamuk that the last thing that must be included in the book; what the readers need to realize, is that he, Kemal, "have lived a good life."
What brings The Museum Of Innocence to such a level, of course, is Orhan Pamuk's elegiac, incomparable prose. To portray so much, such visual imagery with seemingly so few words; to describe specific emotions with such preciseness yet eloquently. At chapters, this is a long novel. Yet I always found myself desperately looking at the pages on the right side of my hand, wishing they would always be more than those on my left! There are so many passages that I would love to quote here (i.e. 1) Describing the love you can have simple watching someone, holding items they once held; 2) The chapter illuminating Kemal & Fusun's "language of looks", how meaningful a look, even a non-look could be, during his eight years visiting her family under the guise of assisting her & her husbands' film careers, 3) The kinship he discovered in the subculture of collectors, touring the world to visit museum after museum of niche collections, finding he was not alone, 4) The almost-story-in-itself regarding the passage of time, how we use time to guide us in conducting our lives as it relates to outside society, but to truly live is to live without clocks, as they did in Fusun's house for a time), but I shall leave those hidden gems for you, the next formidable reader of this great novel!
Although Sibel is obviously devastated when she finds out, she remains with him for months after, trying to support his "recovery". This, of course, is not to be. His love, his obsession with Fusun inevitably leads to the abandonment of his fiancée, a near perfect marriage/family, the family company, his status in Turkish societies, & many of his closest friends as he devotes almost another decade "winning Fusun back" (whom is now herself married). He visits Fusun four to five times a week for eight years, ingratiating himself with her family; they become more family to him than his own as the years elapse. He even becomes friends, then business partners, with Fusun's aspiring film director husband Feridun. Serving as a cover for his frequent visits to the Kreskin household is his monetary support on Lemon Films, which in turn supports an interestingly complex but unstated understanding between Kemal and Feridun, whom are both vying for the same young lady; sadly, the more deeply felt, true love is hidden, unable to be discussed, while the neatly arranged marriage founded on convenience and something closer to an affinity is what everyone openly imagines and acknowledges. Reading about Turkish cinema, the difficulties with the censor board, young stars trying to remain chaste in the harsh eyes of the public; Kemal and Feridun networking in local bars, Kemal and Fusun watching both Turkish and international films in classic theaters together, first with Feridun then without, first as distant cousins that avoid acknowledging each other, then looking at each other under the soft glow of lights with as much passion and devotion as any long married husband and wife, holding hands with such delicate coyness, I was reminded of something akin to Lolita, The Unbearable Lightness Of Being, Cinema Paradiso, Amelie. There is whimsy, love, loyalty, unstated values, honor and chaste societal expectations, secrets, obsession, mystery, and many illogical decisions in the name of love.
Indeed, his life is completely transformed; though his life continues, for the most part Kemal Bey lives for one purpose, one aim, one girl. As the love story came to a conclusion, I was aware of the thought that this was the first time, at least in quite some time, that such a detailed, complex, saga-like, epic-akin storyline was written to conclusion with such perfection. It was not necessarily an expected, clear, neat ending, but any ambiguity, any decisions the author made that I did not agree with, was unable to remove the smile from my face, the warm, cozy feeling inside as if I had had a warm cup of hot chocolate.
Then, what do you know, another part of Kemal's story begins. The perfect book gets better. He outlines his single minded determination to establish The Museum Of Innocence. Pamuk insightfully forays into the psychology of collecting, collectors, their collections. What makes these people pursue such a passion? Is it true that it is always reflective of a psychological flaw? At what point does a respected, admired endeavor become an obsession? An unappreciated flaw? Which is correct, the "proud" Western collector, whom strives to display there collections for public appreciation? The "bashful" Non-Western collector whom hides it, shunned by their peers? A museum connoisseur myself, I truly loved reading about all the real life museums and/or private collections Kemal visited worldwide as he reflected on his life this far, lived for Fusun.
This is what I cherish about fiction. Nonfiction "Elitist" Readers question the value of fiction. The right amount of disconnect from real life, what they do not realize, is necessary for full absorption of topics that may be uninteresting otherwise. There is so much more to learn, question, explore, discover in fiction in ways more beautiful than the straight facts of nonfiction can.
Throughout the main novel, Kemal Bey refers to Orhan Pamuk a few times, and I loved that an author would put himself in his novel, especially when he was sometimes referred to in a negative way. A great author should always know how to laugh at himself! At the end of The Museum Of Innocence, we learn that Kemal Bey hired Pamuk to write what we have finished reading in his voice. His aim was to have readers really know his story, his Fusun, his life. As readers, a free admission to his Museum has been placed between to paragraphs of text in the last few pages. He tells Orhan Pamuk that the last thing that must be included in the book; what the readers need to realize, is that he, Kemal, "have lived a good life."
What brings The Museum Of Innocence to such a level, of course, is Orhan Pamuk's elegiac, incomparable prose. To portray so much, such visual imagery with seemingly so few words; to describe specific emotions with such preciseness yet eloquently. At chapters, this is a long novel. Yet I always found myself desperately looking at the pages on the right side of my hand, wishing they would always be more than those on my left! There are so many passages that I would love to quote here (i.e. 1) Describing the love you can have simple watching someone, holding items they once held; 2) The chapter illuminating Kemal & Fusun's "language of looks", how meaningful a look, even a non-look could be, during his eight years visiting her family under the guise of assisting her & her husbands' film careers, 3) The kinship he discovered in the subculture of collectors, touring the world to visit museum after museum of niche collections, finding he was not alone, 4) The almost-story-in-itself regarding the passage of time, how we use time to guide us in conducting our lives as it relates to outside society, but to truly live is to live without clocks, as they did in Fusun's house for a time), but I shall leave those hidden gems for you, the next formidable reader of this great novel!
April 12, 2012
I think this will be a short review because i don't want to give too much away. This is probably one of the more unique books i've ever read, done completely unpretentiously. most of the time i was reading it, i was thoroughly swept up in its melancholy atmosphere, but as the story began to resolve toward the very end, the tone lightened and i happily noted Orhan Pamuk's sense of humor and ability to make fun of himself. at least that is how i processed certain things at the end of the book.
as a novelized catalog of a very intimate and personal museum, the book cleverly documents one man's (Kemal) tragic attempt to spend his life happily with the one woman (Fusün) he truly loves. the reader knows from the outset that they are aboard a trainwreck, but it's never clear, despite hints all along the way, how the train will ultimately wreck and what will become of Kemal. The reader accompanies Kemal in his besotted state, followed by obsession, and then grief, observing with slight discomfort and sadness Kemal's years collecting various objects connected to Fusün in order to feel close to his beloved. Although we don't know until the end what becomes of Kemal or how his story got written, we do know what becomes of his collected objects. They are part of a museum and as we learn his story we are introduced to these objects, or perhaps, as we are introduced to these objects, we learn his story.
I don't know if the five stars will hold up, but i gave it five stars today because i got so entirely wrapped up in the story, and more so as it reached its resolution. i had expected the opposite to be true, but i was wrong. I also feel terrible that i have yet to read Snow, which i have been avoiding since i have been unable to finish My Name is Red and i had heard from several people that Snow is difficult. I've been afraid of it. But now i really want to read it. And everything else that i have yet to read (or finish reading) by Orhan Pamuk.
ETA 04/12/2012: Life imitates art and becomes real-life art. Moved up on my To-Do list: Visit Istanbul.
as a novelized catalog of a very intimate and personal museum, the book cleverly documents one man's (Kemal) tragic attempt to spend his life happily with the one woman (Fusün) he truly loves. the reader knows from the outset that they are aboard a trainwreck, but it's never clear, despite hints all along the way, how the train will ultimately wreck and what will become of Kemal. The reader accompanies Kemal in his besotted state, followed by obsession, and then grief, observing with slight discomfort and sadness Kemal's years collecting various objects connected to Fusün in order to feel close to his beloved. Although we don't know until the end what becomes of Kemal or how his story got written, we do know what becomes of his collected objects. They are part of a museum and as we learn his story we are introduced to these objects, or perhaps, as we are introduced to these objects, we learn his story.
I don't know if the five stars will hold up, but i gave it five stars today because i got so entirely wrapped up in the story, and more so as it reached its resolution. i had expected the opposite to be true, but i was wrong. I also feel terrible that i have yet to read Snow, which i have been avoiding since i have been unable to finish My Name is Red and i had heard from several people that Snow is difficult. I've been afraid of it. But now i really want to read it. And everything else that i have yet to read (or finish reading) by Orhan Pamuk.
ETA 04/12/2012: Life imitates art and becomes real-life art. Moved up on my To-Do list: Visit Istanbul.
October 4, 2015
diyecek bir şey bulamadım. beş dakikadır bakıyorum ekrana. çok, çok güzel. the washington post'un şu dediğine katılarak: "pamuk bu kitapla aşkı elle tutulur bir şey olarak önümüze koyuyor", ve orhan pamuk kitaplarının hayatımdaki tesadüfi (ya da değil?) doğru zamanlamasına şaşırarak bitireyim. ha bir de, bana istanbul'u sevdiriyor orhan pamuk kitapları.
August 15, 2024
الحب ؟ العشق ؟ الهيام ؟ الوله ؟
أموجوده هذه الأشياء فعلاً ؟ أم خيالات كتاب وسطور وكلمات تحملها الروايات ...؟
تقييم هذه الرواية سيختلف من قارئ لآخر وفقا لنظرته لهذه المعاني
الي أي مدي يمكن أن يتسع نطاق التضحية والبذل والعطاء باسم الحب .......؟
الأجابة ستختلف من قارئ لآخر وكذلك وجه نظر كل قاري لأحداث هذه الرواية
وإلي أي درجة مست احداث الرواية إحساس ومشاعر القارئ تجاه أبطال الرواية
تحفظت علي طول الرواية المبالغ فيه و كثرة الأحداث غير الهامة التي حملتها صفحات الرواية وما أضافه ذلك للرواية
هل كان من قبيل توثيق للاحداث فقط كالمذكرات بصرف النظر عن درجة الأهمية
أم يأتي ضمن تعزيز وترسيخ معني الارتباط وشدة التعلق بالحبيب كناية عن غزارة وعمق وقوة حب كمال لفسون
سرد تاريخ وفاة البطل بعد كل ما لاقاه من الآلآم العشق علي مدار سنوات ،
اضفي نوعا من العمق والجمال عن كون القصة مجرد خيال مؤلف
April 2, 2019
نزدیک به نیمی از کتاب را خوانده بودم که به استانبول رفتم، جایی که داستان کتاب در آن میگذرد. از این هیجانانگیزتر موزهای است همنام و مختص کتاب در استانبول. موزه توسط اورهان پاموک تأسیس شده. در این موزه برخی از اشیائی که کتاب به آن اشاره میکند، نمایش داده میشود. برخی از صحنهها و تصاویر کتاب هم بازسازی شده. در جایجای کتاب، پاموک صریحاً به موزه و اشیای آن اشاره میکند.
نویسنده کاملاً سرحوصله و سرفرصت مینویسد، اصلاً عجلهای برای جمع کردن ماجرا ندارد. گاهی ممکن است خستهکننده شود، ولی من با خودم فکر میکردم، دارم به یک عاشق گوش میدهم که از اسارات-اش لذت میبرد و چیزهایی را کشف کرده که دوست دارد دربارهی آنها پرحرفی کند. با چنین تصوری به راوی حق میدادم و خودم را با او همراه میکردم.
بسیاری از مشخصههای سریالهای ترکی را دارد، اصلاً نمیشود منکر شد. من از خواندنش لذت بردم. شاید سریالهای ترکی هم آنقدرها بد نیستند و دیدن یکی-دو تا از بهترینهایشان لذتبخش باشد. به هر صورت در کنار شباهتهایش، از سریالهای ترکی بسیار بیشتر دارد و پربارتر است.
جامعهی سنتیِ در حال گذاری که بستر اتفاقات کتاب است، بسیار شبیه مدلِ داخلیِ خودمان است. مثلاً آنجا هم در زمانِ قصه، حرف از ارتباط تنگاتنگ بکارت و آبروست.
بیش از این «جننامه»ی گلشیری را که بخشی از روایتش در اصفهان میگذرد زمانی که سفری به اصفهان داشتم خواندم. حالا قصد دارم این تجربه را قویتر و جدیتر با موزهی معصومیت تکرار کنم!
نویسنده کاملاً سرحوصله و سرفرصت مینویسد، اصلاً عجلهای برای جمع کردن ماجرا ندارد. گاهی ممکن است خستهکننده شود، ولی من با خودم فکر میکردم، دارم به یک عاشق گوش میدهم که از اسارات-اش لذت میبرد و چیزهایی را کشف کرده که دوست دارد دربارهی آنها پرحرفی کند. با چنین تصوری به راوی حق میدادم و خودم را با او همراه میکردم.
بسیاری از مشخصههای سریالهای ترکی را دارد، اصلاً نمیشود منکر شد. من از خواندنش لذت بردم. شاید سریالهای ترکی هم آنقدرها بد نیستند و دیدن یکی-دو تا از بهترینهایشان لذتبخش باشد. به هر صورت در کنار شباهتهایش، از سریالهای ترکی بسیار بیشتر دارد و پربارتر است.
جامعهی سنتیِ در حال گذاری که بستر اتفاقات کتاب است، بسیار شبیه مدلِ داخلیِ خودمان است. مثلاً آنجا هم در زمانِ قصه، حرف از ارتباط تنگاتنگ بکارت و آبروست.
بیش از این «جننامه»ی گلشیری را که بخشی از روایتش در اصفهان میگذرد زمانی که سفری به اصفهان داشتم خواندم. حالا قصد دارم این تجربه را قویتر و جدیتر با موزهی معصومیت تکرار کنم!
May 28, 2020
Sonia rushes to the shelf that houses the Pamuk collection, his visit to Goa has got everyone in a tizzy, should we read Pamuk or not is the question of the day.
Nobel Laureate visiting our homeland after all. Museum of Innocence she thinks, how quaint, comfortably seated she plunges into the book; her eagerness knows no bounds….
Page 1; Wow, sex on the very first page. Isn’t that a tad antiquated? A Nobel Laureate knows what he is doing. She reads better writing is sure to follow…
Page 5-25; High society of Istanbul, Kamal bey, the protagonist belongs to this set of aristocrats, they control most of the wealth in Turkey. Privileged people, living the life of the über rich, visiting all the hot spots, eating delicious food, drinking imported champagne, their women most of them Sorbonne educated, liberated, think nothing of sleeping with their fiancé before marriage. Sibel and Kamal bey are all set to marry and live a beautiful life just like all the wealthy do in Istanbul.
Pages 30-6o; Enter Fusun, beautiful, impoverished a distant relative to Kamal bey, torrid love affair begins, but should a nice girl like Fusun ‘ruin’ her reputation in such a fashion? After all Kamal bey cannot marry her. Come now her mother is just a seamstress, worked for Kamal bey’s Mother. Of course she is tolerated as a poor relative; the family even invites her for Kamal bey’s engagement to Sibel. That was so nice, her parents were overjoyed.
Pages 65 – 100; Affair continues, lovers quarrel incessantly, their love is not written in the stars, it just cannot be. Kamal bey obsessed by Fusun runs to his parent’s apartment where he sleeps with her every evening at the appointed hour, when he is not making love to her he paces the streets like a madman hoping to see Fusun. A man possessed. Hey is this just a triangular love story...?
Pages 119 – 203; Affair continues, lovers quarrel incessantly, Sibel breaks off the engagement, she wants to marry a very rich normal guy after all there are many such men in Istanbul. Kamal bey begins visiting Fusun’s home, turns a kleptomaniac, nothing of importance mind you, just cigarette butts, occasional saltshakers, some forgotten hairpins, and barrettes - things not difficult to pick up.
Pages 216 – 250; Fusun wants to act in movies, affair continues, lovers quarrel incessantly. Kamal bey has now amassed a huge collection of cigarette butts; all have touched Fusun’s rosy lips, graduates to larger and more visible objects like ashtrays, cups, and slippers. Is it for the thrill of it? What’s this new avatar?
Pages 270 – 299; Obsession continues, somewhere down the line Fusun gets married, Kamal bey begins having dinner regularly at Fusun’s home, no affair, only haughty glances from Fusun and an occasional brushing of bodies. Tiny apartments are good for such close contacts. Kamal bey decides to back Feridun, Fusun’s husband, in producing a film. Kleptomania continues.
Pages 299-350; The movie is stuck, nothing comes out of it, Psssst Kamal bey was just humouring Fusun so that he could meet her every day. Fusun very tired and dejected, Feridun very tired and dejected, obsession continues, kleptomania continues. Kamal bey is turning his parent’s apartment into a shrine of obsession.
Pages 359- 400; Obsession continues, kleptomania continues.
Pages 450 - 500; Obsession continues, kleptomania continues.
Sonia gives up...This book she decides is only for people who can understand the meaning behind the meaning.
Realises her mental capacities are way below those of a Nobel laureate...Gives up.
Nobel Laureate visiting our homeland after all. Museum of Innocence she thinks, how quaint, comfortably seated she plunges into the book; her eagerness knows no bounds….
Page 1; Wow, sex on the very first page. Isn’t that a tad antiquated? A Nobel Laureate knows what he is doing. She reads better writing is sure to follow…
Page 5-25; High society of Istanbul, Kamal bey, the protagonist belongs to this set of aristocrats, they control most of the wealth in Turkey. Privileged people, living the life of the über rich, visiting all the hot spots, eating delicious food, drinking imported champagne, their women most of them Sorbonne educated, liberated, think nothing of sleeping with their fiancé before marriage. Sibel and Kamal bey are all set to marry and live a beautiful life just like all the wealthy do in Istanbul.
Pages 30-6o; Enter Fusun, beautiful, impoverished a distant relative to Kamal bey, torrid love affair begins, but should a nice girl like Fusun ‘ruin’ her reputation in such a fashion? After all Kamal bey cannot marry her. Come now her mother is just a seamstress, worked for Kamal bey’s Mother. Of course she is tolerated as a poor relative; the family even invites her for Kamal bey’s engagement to Sibel. That was so nice, her parents were overjoyed.
Pages 65 – 100; Affair continues, lovers quarrel incessantly, their love is not written in the stars, it just cannot be. Kamal bey obsessed by Fusun runs to his parent’s apartment where he sleeps with her every evening at the appointed hour, when he is not making love to her he paces the streets like a madman hoping to see Fusun. A man possessed. Hey is this just a triangular love story...?
Pages 119 – 203; Affair continues, lovers quarrel incessantly, Sibel breaks off the engagement, she wants to marry a very rich normal guy after all there are many such men in Istanbul. Kamal bey begins visiting Fusun’s home, turns a kleptomaniac, nothing of importance mind you, just cigarette butts, occasional saltshakers, some forgotten hairpins, and barrettes - things not difficult to pick up.
Pages 216 – 250; Fusun wants to act in movies, affair continues, lovers quarrel incessantly. Kamal bey has now amassed a huge collection of cigarette butts; all have touched Fusun’s rosy lips, graduates to larger and more visible objects like ashtrays, cups, and slippers. Is it for the thrill of it? What’s this new avatar?
Pages 270 – 299; Obsession continues, somewhere down the line Fusun gets married, Kamal bey begins having dinner regularly at Fusun’s home, no affair, only haughty glances from Fusun and an occasional brushing of bodies. Tiny apartments are good for such close contacts. Kamal bey decides to back Feridun, Fusun’s husband, in producing a film. Kleptomania continues.
Pages 299-350; The movie is stuck, nothing comes out of it, Psssst Kamal bey was just humouring Fusun so that he could meet her every day. Fusun very tired and dejected, Feridun very tired and dejected, obsession continues, kleptomania continues. Kamal bey is turning his parent’s apartment into a shrine of obsession.
Pages 359- 400; Obsession continues, kleptomania continues.
Pages 450 - 500; Obsession continues, kleptomania continues.
Sonia gives up...This book she decides is only for people who can understand the meaning behind the meaning.
Realises her mental capacities are way below those of a Nobel laureate...Gives up.
November 18, 2022
Masumiyet Müzesi, şimdiye kadar Orhan Pamuk’tan okuduğum kitapların arasında en sevdiğim oldu. Kendisi zaten bir atmosfer yaratmak ve okurunu bu atmosferin içine çekmek konusunda çok başarılı. Kitabı okurken, Kemal’in peşinde 1970’lerden başlayarak İstanbul’unu adım adım geziyor, zamanda ilerliyor ve adeta bütün dönemi yaşıyorsunuz. Sanırım ayrıldığım günün üzerinden geçen 14 ayın ardından, ilk defa bu kitabı okurken İstanbul’u özledim. o Kadar güçlü bir anlatımı var. Kitabın diğer bir güzelliği ise, gayet kişisel bir aşk -ya da bana göre takıntı- hikayesini ana merkeze alsa da yaklaşık 30 yıllık bir süreçte, Türkiye’nin hem siyasi, hem de sosyo-kültürel toplum dinamikleri açısından yaşadığı değişimleri, hikayenin akışını bozmadan, gündelik hayatın akışında aktarması. Hafıza ve zaman kavramlarını hem kolektif hem de kişisel düzeyde çok etkileyici bir şekilde ele alıyor. Kişisel düzeyde Kemal’in yaşadığı buhranlar, ülkenin geçirdiği keskin kırılımlarla birlikte ilerlerken hikayede ayrışma ya da göze batma yaşanmıyor. Aslında bu açıdan da kötü zamanlarda elinizin gitmemesi gereken kitaplardan, zira karamsar ruh hali, anlatının bütün gerçekliğiyle insanı ele geçiriyor.
Ancak bütün bu iyi yanlarının arasında beni çok rahatsız eden bir şey; “aşkı elle tutulur bir şey olarak önümüze koyuyor.” diye tanımlanan bir kitapta kadın karakterlerin hiçbir derinliğinin olmaması. Saplantılı bir tutkuyla sevilen, uğruna yıllar verilip müze kurulan, ruhunun güzelliğine ömür harcanan Füsun’un o güzel ruhunu -Kemal’in vurguları dışında- okuyucu asla göremiyor. Tabii Orhan Pamuk’un anlatmak istediği, bir aşk romanından ziyade doğuyla batı arasında bocalayan, kendisi için ideal görülen bir evlilik öncesi depresyona sürüklenen, “masumiyet” kavramını doğu düzeyinde algılayan lakin bununla yüzleşemeyen bir adamın sıkışmışlığı, içe dönüşü ve bütün bunların sonunda düştüğü saplantı da olabilir. Bu durumda kadın karakterlerin yalnızca ismen ve bir görev gibi var olmaları da ayrı bir anlam kazanıyor. Hikayenin en başındaki gayet detaylı anlatılan arkadaş ilişkileri, iş dünyası ve gündelik hayatın, kitap ilerledikçe git gide silikleşip yalnızca füsuna dair detaylara odaklandığı göz önüne alınırsa bu daha da mantıklı geliyor insana.
Orhan Pamuk yıldızımın pek barışmadığı o yüzden de çok fazla kitabını okumadığımdan, üzerine ne söylesem eksik ya da hatalı olma ihtimali yüksek olan yazarlardan. Ancak kendimden yola çıkarak söyleyebileceğim yazar ile anlaşamasanız dahi severek okuyacağınız bir kitap. Çünkü müze üzerine inşa edilen bir kitap fikriyle gerekse saplantıyı anlatma şekliyle ve okuruna geçirdiği gerçekçiliğiyle çok etkileyici. Kimi tekrarlar ve ayrıntılar kitabı sıkıcı yapıyor gibi görünse de bence boğulan ruhu, yaşanan takıntı halini çok daha iyi yansıtan ve Kemal’in yanında oturup, sanki onunla aynı yorgun havayı soluyor gibi hissetmenize sebep olan detaylar. Eğer okumasaydım, Türk edebiyatına dair önemli bir noktam eksik kalırdı o yüzden iyi ki okudum dediğim kitaplardan birisi oldu.
Ancak bütün bu iyi yanlarının arasında beni çok rahatsız eden bir şey; “aşkı elle tutulur bir şey olarak önümüze koyuyor.” diye tanımlanan bir kitapta kadın karakterlerin hiçbir derinliğinin olmaması. Saplantılı bir tutkuyla sevilen, uğruna yıllar verilip müze kurulan, ruhunun güzelliğine ömür harcanan Füsun’un o güzel ruhunu -Kemal’in vurguları dışında- okuyucu asla göremiyor. Tabii Orhan Pamuk’un anlatmak istediği, bir aşk romanından ziyade doğuyla batı arasında bocalayan, kendisi için ideal görülen bir evlilik öncesi depresyona sürüklenen, “masumiyet” kavramını doğu düzeyinde algılayan lakin bununla yüzleşemeyen bir adamın sıkışmışlığı, içe dönüşü ve bütün bunların sonunda düştüğü saplantı da olabilir. Bu durumda kadın karakterlerin yalnızca ismen ve bir görev gibi var olmaları da ayrı bir anlam kazanıyor. Hikayenin en başındaki gayet detaylı anlatılan arkadaş ilişkileri, iş dünyası ve gündelik hayatın, kitap ilerledikçe git gide silikleşip yalnızca füsuna dair detaylara odaklandığı göz önüne alınırsa bu daha da mantıklı geliyor insana.
Orhan Pamuk yıldızımın pek barışmadığı o yüzden de çok fazla kitabını okumadığımdan, üzerine ne söylesem eksik ya da hatalı olma ihtimali yüksek olan yazarlardan. Ancak kendimden yola çıkarak söyleyebileceğim yazar ile anlaşamasanız dahi severek okuyacağınız bir kitap. Çünkü müze üzerine inşa edilen bir kitap fikriyle gerekse saplantıyı anlatma şekliyle ve okuruna geçirdiği gerçekçiliğiyle çok etkileyici. Kimi tekrarlar ve ayrıntılar kitabı sıkıcı yapıyor gibi görünse de bence boğulan ruhu, yaşanan takıntı halini çok daha iyi yansıtan ve Kemal’in yanında oturup, sanki onunla aynı yorgun havayı soluyor gibi hissetmenize sebep olan detaylar. Eğer okumasaydım, Türk edebiyatına dair önemli bir noktam eksik kalırdı o yüzden iyi ki okudum dediğim kitaplardan birisi oldu.
May 4, 2019
یک مثال دیگه برای خودم که بفهمم کتابهایی که یک دفعه خیلی معروف میشند جالب نیستند سراغ اینها نرو
این اولین و صد البته اخرین کتاب من از پاموک بود و به حدی ناامید کننده بود که دیگه هرگز سراغ کتاب های این نویسنده حتی با وجود تعریف ها و جوایز نرم
انگار که تمام مدت در حال دیدن یک سریال ترکیه ای طولانی آبکی تمام عیار هستی
داستان بسیار نازل و زرد و بدون منطق
این اولین و صد البته اخرین کتاب من از پاموک بود و به حدی ناامید کننده بود که دیگه هرگز سراغ کتاب های این نویسنده حتی با وجود تعریف ها و جوایز نرم
انگار که تمام مدت در حال دیدن یک سریال ترکیه ای طولانی آبکی تمام عیار هستی
داستان بسیار نازل و زرد و بدون منطق
August 18, 2019
Τελικά όλο και πιο πολύ σιγουρεύομαι για κάτι που έχω ξαναγράψει εδώ στο Goodreads, ότι η στιγμή της μεγάλης έμπνευσης για τους περισσότερους συγγραφείς, έρχεται μία άντε δύο φορές στη ζωή τους.
Ο άνθρωπος που έγραψε το Το μαύρο βιβλίο, έγραψε και αυτό εδώ.
Φυσικά, η γραφή του Ορχάν Παμούκ, είναι η γραφή του Ορχάν Παμούκ. Ακόμα και συνταγή μαγειρικής να γράψει, θα είναι υψηλή λογοτεχνία, οπότε δεν μπορώ να δώσω λιγότερα από 4 αστέρια. Δεν πάει το χέρι μου!
Πέρα από αυτό όμως, τι? Τι ακριβώς σκεφτόταν γράφοντας το μουσείο της αθωότητας? Όλο το βιβλίο περιγράφει μια αρρωστημένη ερωτική εμμονή του αφηγητή, μέσω της οποίας ήθελε να μας πει τι?
Υπάρχουν αναφορές στις στιγμές που συνδέουν το χρόνο και τελικά αποτελούν το χρόνο, όπως το έχει περιγράψει ο Αριστοτέλης, και γίνεται αντιστοιχία με τις στιγμές ευτυχίας του αφηγητή που τελικά θεωρεί ότι δικαιώνουν μια ολόκληρη ζωή και την κάνουν ευτυχισμένη, αλλά αυτό αρκεί για να δικαιώσει ένα ολόκληρο βιβλίο?
Γενικά όχι από τα βιβλία που θα πρότεινα, παρά τα 4 αστέρια.
Ο άνθρωπος που έγραψε το Το μαύρο βιβλίο, έγραψε και αυτό εδώ.
Φυσικά, η γραφή του Ορχάν Παμούκ, είναι η γραφή του Ορχάν Παμούκ. Ακόμα και συνταγή μαγειρικής να γράψει, θα είναι υψηλή λογοτεχνία, οπότε δεν μπορώ να δώσω λιγότερα από 4 αστέρια. Δεν πάει το χέρι μου!
Πέρα από αυτό όμως, τι? Τι ακριβώς σκεφτόταν γράφοντας το μουσείο της αθωότητας? Όλο το βιβλίο περιγράφει μια αρρωστημένη ερωτική εμμονή του αφηγητή, μέσω της οποίας ήθελε να μας πει τι?
Υπάρχουν αναφορές στις στιγμές που συνδέουν το χρόνο και τελικά αποτελούν το χρόνο, όπως το έχει περιγράψει ο Αριστοτέλης, και γίνεται αντιστοιχία με τις στιγμές ευτυχίας του αφηγητή που τελικά θεωρεί ότι δικαιώνουν μια ολόκληρη ζωή και την κάνουν ευτυχισμένη, αλλά αυτό αρκεί για να δικαιώσει ένα ολόκληρο βιβλίο?
Γενικά όχι από τα βιβλία που θα πρότεινα, παρά τα 4 αστέρια.
April 4, 2019
Obsession
The Museum of Innocence is a novel developed with significant depth in relation to the main character, Kemal, and the obsession he has towards a beautiful woman, Fusan. Kemal never managed to secure a full relationship with Fusan because of his obliged engagement to marry Sibel. He always remained infatuated and felt she held his heart. The obsession manifested itself through Kemal collecting objects that had a connection with her, from cigarette butts to kitchen-ware. He would collect anything and everything that she encountered as though it harboured her essence, which he could derive pleasure from.
Kemal marries Sibel but he never fully commits his heart in his marriage, which he has pledged part of to Fusan. He has created this idol, which has grown in standing and adoration, that in his own mind is far superior to the reality. This is actually really sad and I do think more could have been made of his wife's feelings, and what she contended with throughout their marriage.
Over the years Kemal collects so many items that he finally establishes a museum of memorabilia devoted to Fusan. A Museum of Innocence. Or a Museum of Impotence. Depending on your grip of reality. :)
Kemal is a very frustrating person and someone that I have very little empathy with. While we don't have to love every character in a story it's very difficult to connect with the story when you dislike ALL the characters. On a positive note, I appreciate the opportunity to look into the mind of someone so different and wonder was his conscious and subconscious mind a driving force to, hold onto something OR fear of letting go? So are you intrigued or frustrated, are you inspired or unimpressed, or are you wondering what other books I could have read during the time it took to read this 752-page monster?
The writing is never in question and it conveys an imaginary into Istanbul that is wonderful and atmospheric. The level of detail of places and people is remarkable and while I’ve never been, it conveys the cultural and material clash between the West and the Middle East, especially with the more affluent of society.
Personally, I couldn't recommend this book and I've often wondered why I saw it through. Maybe this was the book that convinced me that Not Finishing a book is a legitimate decision.
The Museum of Innocence is a novel developed with significant depth in relation to the main character, Kemal, and the obsession he has towards a beautiful woman, Fusan. Kemal never managed to secure a full relationship with Fusan because of his obliged engagement to marry Sibel. He always remained infatuated and felt she held his heart. The obsession manifested itself through Kemal collecting objects that had a connection with her, from cigarette butts to kitchen-ware. He would collect anything and everything that she encountered as though it harboured her essence, which he could derive pleasure from.
Kemal marries Sibel but he never fully commits his heart in his marriage, which he has pledged part of to Fusan. He has created this idol, which has grown in standing and adoration, that in his own mind is far superior to the reality. This is actually really sad and I do think more could have been made of his wife's feelings, and what she contended with throughout their marriage.
Over the years Kemal collects so many items that he finally establishes a museum of memorabilia devoted to Fusan. A Museum of Innocence. Or a Museum of Impotence. Depending on your grip of reality. :)
Kemal is a very frustrating person and someone that I have very little empathy with. While we don't have to love every character in a story it's very difficult to connect with the story when you dislike ALL the characters. On a positive note, I appreciate the opportunity to look into the mind of someone so different and wonder was his conscious and subconscious mind a driving force to, hold onto something OR fear of letting go? So are you intrigued or frustrated, are you inspired or unimpressed, or are you wondering what other books I could have read during the time it took to read this 752-page monster?
The writing is never in question and it conveys an imaginary into Istanbul that is wonderful and atmospheric. The level of detail of places and people is remarkable and while I’ve never been, it conveys the cultural and material clash between the West and the Middle East, especially with the more affluent of society.
Personally, I couldn't recommend this book and I've often wondered why I saw it through. Maybe this was the book that convinced me that Not Finishing a book is a legitimate decision.
April 3, 2023
Aren't we all surrounded by thousands of tiny little things of the ones we love(d)?
"What a bore is life and how predictable: to be born, live and die." This is what I told my grandma (from my mothersside) at the age of eight after reading next weeks TV-guide completely. She looked at me with a little mysterious smile and said "Yes, you are right". I was old at the age of eight. The strange thing is this feeling never really left me. In retrospect my opinion in hindsight was only a part of 'homo sapiens' life' truth. In life it's not about milestones it's about all the days in between. It's not about being born, learn to ride a bicycle, fall in love, graduate at highschool, buy a house, become a (grand)parent and die. It's about the 26,000 days in between. Sometimes we think we will never really fall in love. Sometimes we are in doubt about the love we feel. Sometimes we hate our lover. Sometimes it feels as if we are not good enough for our lover and need above all affirmation. Sometimes it's a perfect day full of love and being loved. Sometimes we don't think at all about our lover - and feel guilty when we realize that. What I'm trying to say is, we (better: I) live our life one day after another. In retrospect we can put milestones in our personal life but it's hardly sensible in the days we are living one by one. Yesterday is one day. Today is one day. Tomorrow and all the other days are one day.
All bookreviews tell more about the reviewer than about the writer of a book. I'm completely aware of that. Last weekend I finished reading Orhan Pamuk' (1952-) book 'The museum of innocence' (in a dutch translation). From a milestone point of view this book is a bore. 30 year old male Pamuk falls in love with 18 year female Fusun while he is going to be engaged in a few weeks with 26 (?) year old female Sibel. The setting is Istanbul, Turkey in the seventies (of the 20th century). Pamuk and Sibel are both rich and are the perfect couple. Fusun is poor.
I was completely addicted to the book after reading the first 20 pages. I knew - not really but I guessed how it would end otherwise there would have been no reason for a "museum" - how the book was going to end but I loved all those thousands and thousands of tiny little lovely details of a love. A love between Kemal and Sibel. A love between Kemal and Fusun. All the hesitations, the anger, the insecurity, the perfect moments, the jealousy, the lack of affirmation, the tears, the smiles and the feeling of happiness when you just can touch her or finally see her smile while she looks at you. I loved to read about all the "normal" days when Kemal was surrounded by things of Fusun: touching the saltshacker that once stood at Fusun' house, smelling at the red dress Fusun wore on the day of Kemal and Fusun' engagement and drinking from a glass Fusun once drank out of.
This is it. This is life. For me it's a book of love in all it's tiny little elements. It is telling it all: the hesitations, the good and bad moments and all the feelings in between. It's not a book of milestones. It's a book of all the days in between. For me personally to found a museum for the love-of-my-life is too much. It would be too neurotic. I'll never found a museum for the ones I loved so much and the ones I love right now. I'll never found a museum for the love-of-my-life but aren't we all surrounded by hundreds of things, books, smells, songs, thoughts and dreams of the ones we love(d)?
P.s. More bookreviews of this book can be found here.
@jeand99
"What a bore is life and how predictable: to be born, live and die." This is what I told my grandma (from my mothersside) at the age of eight after reading next weeks TV-guide completely. She looked at me with a little mysterious smile and said "Yes, you are right". I was old at the age of eight. The strange thing is this feeling never really left me. In retrospect my opinion in hindsight was only a part of 'homo sapiens' life' truth. In life it's not about milestones it's about all the days in between. It's not about being born, learn to ride a bicycle, fall in love, graduate at highschool, buy a house, become a (grand)parent and die. It's about the 26,000 days in between. Sometimes we think we will never really fall in love. Sometimes we are in doubt about the love we feel. Sometimes we hate our lover. Sometimes it feels as if we are not good enough for our lover and need above all affirmation. Sometimes it's a perfect day full of love and being loved. Sometimes we don't think at all about our lover - and feel guilty when we realize that. What I'm trying to say is, we (better: I) live our life one day after another. In retrospect we can put milestones in our personal life but it's hardly sensible in the days we are living one by one. Yesterday is one day. Today is one day. Tomorrow and all the other days are one day.
All bookreviews tell more about the reviewer than about the writer of a book. I'm completely aware of that. Last weekend I finished reading Orhan Pamuk' (1952-) book 'The museum of innocence' (in a dutch translation). From a milestone point of view this book is a bore. 30 year old male Pamuk falls in love with 18 year female Fusun while he is going to be engaged in a few weeks with 26 (?) year old female Sibel. The setting is Istanbul, Turkey in the seventies (of the 20th century). Pamuk and Sibel are both rich and are the perfect couple. Fusun is poor.
I was completely addicted to the book after reading the first 20 pages. I knew - not really but I guessed how it would end otherwise there would have been no reason for a "museum" - how the book was going to end but I loved all those thousands and thousands of tiny little lovely details of a love. A love between Kemal and Sibel. A love between Kemal and Fusun. All the hesitations, the anger, the insecurity, the perfect moments, the jealousy, the lack of affirmation, the tears, the smiles and the feeling of happiness when you just can touch her or finally see her smile while she looks at you. I loved to read about all the "normal" days when Kemal was surrounded by things of Fusun: touching the saltshacker that once stood at Fusun' house, smelling at the red dress Fusun wore on the day of Kemal and Fusun' engagement and drinking from a glass Fusun once drank out of.
This is it. This is life. For me it's a book of love in all it's tiny little elements. It is telling it all: the hesitations, the good and bad moments and all the feelings in between. It's not a book of milestones. It's a book of all the days in between. For me personally to found a museum for the love-of-my-life is too much. It would be too neurotic. I'll never found a museum for the ones I loved so much and the ones I love right now. I'll never found a museum for the love-of-my-life but aren't we all surrounded by hundreds of things, books, smells, songs, thoughts and dreams of the ones we love(d)?
P.s. More bookreviews of this book can be found here.
@jeand99
July 20, 2019
Lisede birkaç kitabını okuyup Benim Adım Kırmızı’yı okumayı beceremeyince Orhan Pamuk okumayı tamamen bırakmıştım. Birkaç yıl önce Kara Kitap’ı mutlaka okumam yönünde birden fazla insandan tavsiye alınca kitaba başlayıp yarısına kadar gelip okuduğum şeyden mutsuz olup bırakmıştım. Fikrine önem verdiğim herkes Kara Kitap’ı Orhan Pamuk’un en iyi işi olarak anlatıyor. Kara Kitap benim için Orhan Pamuk’un kitabı yazma evresinde aklına gelen gereksiz metinleri kitaba yedirdiği, kitabı ana hikayenin yörüngesinden çıkardığı, eklediği serbest metinlerle self-oryantalist olduğunu gösterdiği, kitaptaki tüm cümleler için çok çalıştığını, uğraştığını gözüme soktuğu bir eser oldu. En iyi işiyle ilgili böyle düşündüğüm için de artık kendisiyle yollarımızın kesişmemesi gerektiğini düşündüm.
Bu yıl, fikrine önem verdiğim, Orhan Pamuk ve edebiyatıyla ilgili üzerine konuşup tartışabildiğim arkadaşlarım Orhan Pamuk sevmesem bile Masumiyet Müzesi’ne bir şans vermemi istediler. Ben de başka konularda önyargılarımın kendimin en büyük düşmanı olduğuna inandığım için önyargımı bir kenara bırakıp o şansı verdim. İyi ki vermişim yoksa önyargım yüzünden böylesine bir kitabı ıskalamış olacaktım. Orhan Pamuk’a dair fikirlerim hala aynı, benim tarzım bir edebiyatçı değil ama Masumiyet Müzesi fikrinden başlayarak iyi bir kitap.
Aşk gibi bir duyguyu müze olarak kurgulamak fikri, kitabı bu müzeye göre anlatmak harika bir fikir. Müze gezmeyi sevenler sırf bu sebepten sever kitabı. Kitabı iyi yapan tek şey bu fikir değil, Füsun’a karşı hissettiklerini ifade edebilmek için müzeyi kurgulayan Kemal’in tüm kitap boyunca anlattığı, yaşadıklarına ortak ettiği, 70li yıllar İstanbul’unda sizi bir yolculuğa çıkarabildiği için iyi bir kitap.
Kitapla ilgili beni tek üzen şey Kemal’i bu kadar iyi çizebilmişken, her şeyiyle çok iyi anlatabilmişken Füsun’u hiç anlatamamış olması. Erkek karakteri bu kadar iyi anlatabilen bir yazardan kadın karakteri de dinlemek isterdim. Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar ve Oğuz Atay gibi devlerin bile kadın karakter yazmakta güdük kalmalarına benzer bir durum bu da. Uzun yıllar kadının erkeğin bakış açısıyla var olması yeterli olduğu için ülkemiz erkek yazarları kadın karakter yazmakta pek başarılı değiller. Biz hala kadın olarak var olmayı konuşuyoruz, kitaplarda da bunları konuşmaya devam edeceğiz.
Orhan Pamuk sevmeyenlerin dahi seveceğini düşündüğüm bir kitap, merak eden bir şans versin.
Bu yıl, fikrine önem verdiğim, Orhan Pamuk ve edebiyatıyla ilgili üzerine konuşup tartışabildiğim arkadaşlarım Orhan Pamuk sevmesem bile Masumiyet Müzesi’ne bir şans vermemi istediler. Ben de başka konularda önyargılarımın kendimin en büyük düşmanı olduğuna inandığım için önyargımı bir kenara bırakıp o şansı verdim. İyi ki vermişim yoksa önyargım yüzünden böylesine bir kitabı ıskalamış olacaktım. Orhan Pamuk’a dair fikirlerim hala aynı, benim tarzım bir edebiyatçı değil ama Masumiyet Müzesi fikrinden başlayarak iyi bir kitap.
Aşk gibi bir duyguyu müze olarak kurgulamak fikri, kitabı bu müzeye göre anlatmak harika bir fikir. Müze gezmeyi sevenler sırf bu sebepten sever kitabı. Kitabı iyi yapan tek şey bu fikir değil, Füsun’a karşı hissettiklerini ifade edebilmek için müzeyi kurgulayan Kemal’in tüm kitap boyunca anlattığı, yaşadıklarına ortak ettiği, 70li yıllar İstanbul’unda sizi bir yolculuğa çıkarabildiği için iyi bir kitap.
Kitapla ilgili beni tek üzen şey Kemal’i bu kadar iyi çizebilmişken, her şeyiyle çok iyi anlatabilmişken Füsun’u hiç anlatamamış olması. Erkek karakteri bu kadar iyi anlatabilen bir yazardan kadın karakteri de dinlemek isterdim. Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar ve Oğuz Atay gibi devlerin bile kadın karakter yazmakta güdük kalmalarına benzer bir durum bu da. Uzun yıllar kadının erkeğin bakış açısıyla var olması yeterli olduğu için ülkemiz erkek yazarları kadın karakter yazmakta pek başarılı değiller. Biz hala kadın olarak var olmayı konuşuyoruz, kitaplarda da bunları konuşmaya devam edeceğiz.
Orhan Pamuk sevmeyenlerin dahi seveceğini düşündüğüm bir kitap, merak eden bir şans versin.
May 12, 2025
Um Amor em Istambul
Se proibido um amor tende a tornar-se obsessivo. Ao não ser praticado torna-se no “fruto proibido mais apetecido” nutrido pelas memórias que o conceberam, tal como um museu, onde o passado é imortalizado e... revivido sempre que revisitado...
O Museu da Inocência é simultaneamente um ensaio sobre o Amor e uma viagem por Istambul— é mais uma obra ímpar onde consta a assinatura de Orhan Pamuk!!!
💖🌟🌟🌟🌟💖
Se proibido um amor tende a tornar-se obsessivo. Ao não ser praticado torna-se no “fruto proibido mais apetecido” nutrido pelas memórias que o conceberam, tal como um museu, onde o passado é imortalizado e... revivido sempre que revisitado...
O Museu da Inocência é simultaneamente um ensaio sobre o Amor e uma viagem por Istambul— é mais uma obra ímpar onde consta a assinatura de Orhan Pamuk!!!
💖🌟🌟🌟🌟💖
September 26, 2017
I have been trying to finish this novel for such a long time. It took three tries. Third time lucky. I finally finished it.
An obsessive man shares his memories of a doomed love affair in a society where East and West are fusing. There is a confusion of cultures driven by mosques on the one hand, and malls on the other, which leads to civil unrest and even war in the vibrant ancient city of Istanbul.
I did not manage to become as obsessed as single-minded Kamul with Füsun, the eighteen-year old girl, and that makes a difference in as far as I was willing to tolerate his stream of consciousness drive to conquer and take possession of the object of his lust. His ignorance of the violence playing out on the streets of the city, while pursuing his goal, does not alter his vivid descriptions of a city in transition as the cultural and political situation pendulum in daily tumult.
The elaborate backdrop is the 1970s and '80s in Turkey. The style is similar to Nabokov's Humbert and his Lolita, about a man and the woman he loves, but also his love for his city.
I was wondering if Füsun, his unforgettable love interest, does not represent the western lifestyle, even America. I can just imagine how important this novel is in the Turkish psyche, exposing the deeper state behind the religious and political mantras ruling over the inhabitants. It serves as an open letter to a divided society, telling the truth where lies are preferred. A quest for tolerance, respect, understanding.
Nevertheless, the repetitious nature of Kamul's obsession dampened my enthusiasm for this novel. There might be a lot of symbolism which got lost on me. It just became tedious and boring. Although it was only 400 pages long, it felt typical of what Stephen King confessed about his own novels: being “literary elephantiasis” - that is, his novels tend to bloat.
However, this novel is an important literary event and deserves the many awards it has won. I'm just happy to have finished it. It is too high to come by for me personally.
An obsessive man shares his memories of a doomed love affair in a society where East and West are fusing. There is a confusion of cultures driven by mosques on the one hand, and malls on the other, which leads to civil unrest and even war in the vibrant ancient city of Istanbul.
I did not manage to become as obsessed as single-minded Kamul with Füsun, the eighteen-year old girl, and that makes a difference in as far as I was willing to tolerate his stream of consciousness drive to conquer and take possession of the object of his lust. His ignorance of the violence playing out on the streets of the city, while pursuing his goal, does not alter his vivid descriptions of a city in transition as the cultural and political situation pendulum in daily tumult.
The elaborate backdrop is the 1970s and '80s in Turkey. The style is similar to Nabokov's Humbert and his Lolita, about a man and the woman he loves, but also his love for his city.
I was wondering if Füsun, his unforgettable love interest, does not represent the western lifestyle, even America. I can just imagine how important this novel is in the Turkish psyche, exposing the deeper state behind the religious and political mantras ruling over the inhabitants. It serves as an open letter to a divided society, telling the truth where lies are preferred. A quest for tolerance, respect, understanding.
Nevertheless, the repetitious nature of Kamul's obsession dampened my enthusiasm for this novel. There might be a lot of symbolism which got lost on me. It just became tedious and boring. Although it was only 400 pages long, it felt typical of what Stephen King confessed about his own novels: being “literary elephantiasis” - that is, his novels tend to bloat.
However, this novel is an important literary event and deserves the many awards it has won. I'm just happy to have finished it. It is too high to come by for me personally.
February 22, 2014
It was quite an experience reading this book.
At one stage i almost abandoned it as i just had
too much of Kemal's obsession and it was getting a bit tiresome.
However,while i was not reading the book and moved on to other books i keep thinking about it and realised it was beautifully written.The descriptions of Istanbul life in the 1970's and 1980's were so brilliant.
I would be having a coffee in my local cafe(wet and damp and indoors) and would start thinking about Istanbul and the warm feeling i got when reading about drinking raki or Turkish Tea on the Bosphorus in the sunshine.How cool is that!I could almost smell the Turkish tea.
The only writer who effected me like that before was Hemingway although
their styles are totally different.
Kemal's obsession with Fusun and his robbing of little knick knacks was a bit tiresome but i am really glad i did not abandon the book and returned to complete it.
Orhan Pamuk is some writer.You can see he really loves his country and his people and really goes to great lengths to let you understand Istanbul and the Turkish people.
It must have taken a lot of energy to write a book like this.
I really loved this book and have three more Orhan Pamuk books lined up ready to go.
At one stage i almost abandoned it as i just had
too much of Kemal's obsession and it was getting a bit tiresome.
However,while i was not reading the book and moved on to other books i keep thinking about it and realised it was beautifully written.The descriptions of Istanbul life in the 1970's and 1980's were so brilliant.
I would be having a coffee in my local cafe(wet and damp and indoors) and would start thinking about Istanbul and the warm feeling i got when reading about drinking raki or Turkish Tea on the Bosphorus in the sunshine.How cool is that!I could almost smell the Turkish tea.
The only writer who effected me like that before was Hemingway although
their styles are totally different.
Kemal's obsession with Fusun and his robbing of little knick knacks was a bit tiresome but i am really glad i did not abandon the book and returned to complete it.
Orhan Pamuk is some writer.You can see he really loves his country and his people and really goes to great lengths to let you understand Istanbul and the Turkish people.
It must have taken a lot of energy to write a book like this.
I really loved this book and have three more Orhan Pamuk books lined up ready to go.
March 9, 2018
çookk uzun bir süredir -sanırım 15-16 sene olmuştur- Orhan Pamuk okumuyordum. Daha doğrusu kronolojik olarak okuduğum yazarı Benim Adım Kırmızı dan sonra okumayı bırakmıştım. Sanki benim bildiğim ve sevdiğim yazar Benim Adım Kırmızı' dan sonra başka bir yazar olmuştu. Arada okuduğum Kırmızı Saçlı Kadın ı saymıyorum. Saymak istemiyorum.
Orhan Pamuk kesinlikle çok tartışılan bir yazar. Seversiniz sevmezsiniz ancak bence çok çalışkan bir yazar. Hakkını teslim etmek lazım.
Kitaba gelince; benim o Yeni Hayat ile hayran olduğum Sessiz Ev, Kara Kitap gibi kitapları gibi olmasa da yine üzerine çokça ve samimiyetle aşkla çalışılmış bir kitap Masumiyet Müzesi. Aşk üzerine kitaplar aşkın subjektifliğinden midir nedir çok hoşuma gitmese de kitabın bu kısmını bir kenara bırakırsak aslında değişik edebi hilelerin yapıldığı bir yandan da bu hilelerin samimiyetle deşifre edildiği güzel bir kitap olmuş. Yine büyük bir emek var kitapta. Bazı zamanlar okumakta zorlandım hatta kitabın notu 3 ü geçmez diyordum ama özellikle son kısımlar heyecan vericiydi.
Orhan Pamuk kesinlikle çok tartışılan bir yazar. Seversiniz sevmezsiniz ancak bence çok çalışkan bir yazar. Hakkını teslim etmek lazım.
Kitaba gelince; benim o Yeni Hayat ile hayran olduğum Sessiz Ev, Kara Kitap gibi kitapları gibi olmasa da yine üzerine çokça ve samimiyetle aşkla çalışılmış bir kitap Masumiyet Müzesi. Aşk üzerine kitaplar aşkın subjektifliğinden midir nedir çok hoşuma gitmese de kitabın bu kısmını bir kenara bırakırsak aslında değişik edebi hilelerin yapıldığı bir yandan da bu hilelerin samimiyetle deşifre edildiği güzel bir kitap olmuş. Yine büyük bir emek var kitapta. Bazı zamanlar okumakta zorlandım hatta kitabın notu 3 ü geçmez diyordum ama özellikle son kısımlar heyecan vericiydi.
March 13, 2019
Tôi không biết mình có đủ sức để diễn tả những gì tôi cảm nhận thấy với quyển sách này. Dạo này từ ngữ của tôi hơi bị yếu đuối, như chủ của chúng vậy. Ừ, dẫu sao thì bản thân việc viết ra đã là một cố gắng rồi.
Có lẽ không tránh khỏi một chút spoil.
Tôi mua quyển sách này đã được nhiều năm rồi. Tôi không nhớ rõ bao lâu. Và thời gian tôi bắt đọc quyển này cũng trong ngần ấy năm.
Nhưng khi bắt đầu đọc, tôi đã bị chững lại chỗ làm tình. Cứ đọc đến đoạn làm tình là tôi lại thấy rạo rực, tôi không đọc tiếp được :))). Mà cái đoạn ấy nó lại ở ngay đầu sách. Cho nên mãi trong một thời gian dài tôi không thể đọc qua và cứ bỏ dỡ ở đó.
Thế rồi, trong một thời kỳ khi bị bấn loạn và đảo điên vì cảm giác bị phản bội (dù thực tế không đến nỗi thế), tôi cần tìm một cái gì đó để phân tán tư tưởng của mình, nên đã tình cờ nhặt quyển sách này lên. Những đoạn làm tình không còn sức hút với một kẻ kiệt sức và mệt mỏi với tình yêu, nên tôi tiếp tục đọc nữa. Và trong tâm trạng đau đớn vật vã khôn cùng của những suy nghĩ dằn vặt cứ bị nhai đi nhai lại trong đầu, tôi cảm thấy những câu chữ trong truyện đem đến cho tôi một sự an ủi. Lần đầu tiên tôi nhận ra quyển sách này cuốn hút như thế nào. Những đoạn miêu tả về tình yêu chân thật và tinh tế. Những quan sát và kỷ niệm nhỏ nhặt về người mình yêu và cuộc sống thường ngày làm tôi cảm động. Những câu chữ kể lại tỉ mỉ dường như mọi cung bậc cảm xúc có thể có khi yêu, làm tôi bị cuốn hút đến say sưa, thậm chí có thể giúp tôi có đúng cảm giác của nhân vật trong truyện, là tách rời được với thực tại. Tôi thấy mình thoát ra được khỏi những thứ tầm thường vụn vặt, những tranh cãi bon chen trong cuộc đời, và trở lại với nơi mà mình thuộc về. Thật buồn cười, là một kẻ thất tình lại tìm thấy một sự an ủi kỳ lạ và khôn nguôi trong câu chuyện của một kẻ ngoại tình.
Sách là một câu chuyện dài. Xen lẫn giữa những chi tiết miêu tả tình yêu tuyệt đẹp, là những suy ngẫm và triết lý về thời gian và ý nghĩa cuộc đời, bối cảnh xã hội Istanbul vào thập niên 70 - 80 và những sự kiện lịch sử vây quanh, tình yêu và cảm xúc bị đè nén bởi áp lực nặng nề của khuôn mẫu gia đình và xã hội truyền thống, định kiến của giai cấp và giới tính, định kiến của người khác về chúng ta và cả định kiến của ta về chính mình, tất cả đè nặng lên nhau khiến con người ta không thể hành động tự do. Tôi đã ngỡ ngàng nhận ra xã hội Thổ Nhĩ Kỳ thập niên 70 của thế kỷ trước có những nét tương đồng kỳ lạ với xã hội Việt Nam trong thời bây giờ.
Nhưng trên hết, Bảo tàng Ngây thơ là một quyển sách về cái đẹp. Cái đẹp u buồn và rực rỡ của một câu chuyện tình. Vẻ đẹp kỳ lạ vừa mơ mộng nên thơ, vừa hoang tàn đổ nát của thành phố dưới những biến động chính trị và ảnh hưởng của cơn bão văn hóa từ phương Tây. Vẻ đẹp của cuộc sống ngời lên dưới ánh mắt trong sáng và ngây thơ của một người đang yêu. Vẻ đẹp khi miêu tả nội tâm và hành động đầy mâu thuẫn của con người. Và vẻ đẹp tâm hồn và tính cách, của một nhân vật nhẹ nhàng, nhạy cảm, dễ tổn thương.
Thật kỳ lạ, là tôi cũng đọc quyển sách qua bao biến động của cuộc đời mình. Qua lúc thất tình, thấy mình cô độc và lẻ loi như một con chó nhỏ trong vũ trụ, không khác gì nhân vật trong truyện. Qua mùa ôn thi GRE căng thẳng, khi tôi nóng nảy quở trách nhân vật chính là một thằng cha điên khùng, tham lam, và yếu đuối. Qua một dịp tết ấm áp cùng với gia đình, khi tôi thấy mình như tay Kemal gàn dở, cũng từng có lần trong hành trình tìm kiếm dường như vô vọng về một điều gì đó cho bản thân mình, đã vô tình tìm thấy vẻ đẹp trong một điều khác. Qua những lúc tìm thông tin viết bài luận và thấy vài phần trong quyển sách này nhàm chán và dài lê thê.
Và ngày hôm nay, khi tôi đang đứng trước một cuộc phỏng vấn học bổng quan trọng với cuộc đời mình, khi trong lòng tôi đang cảm thấy cô đơn, tan nát vì những người mà tôi yêu thương, thấy bị cô lập và cách ly với cả xã hội loài người, tôi chợt cảm nhận rõ cảm xúc có phần "siêu việt" của nhân vật Kemal, là nỗi đau làm con người ta cảm nhận cuộc sống một cách tràn đầy và sâu sắc hơn, rằng từ nỗi đau, ta có thể cảm nhận được sự nhỏ bé của chính mình, cảm nhận thế giới kỳ diệu và bí ẩn, và lần nữa, một cách kỳ lạ, là cảm nhận về tình yêu cuộc sống qua nỗi đau của riêng mình.
Và tôi chợt nhận thấy, tất cả những điều đó cũng không có gì quan trọng. Dù những lúc bị tổn thương, bị cô lập, dù những lúc cảm thấy mình không được tôn trọng, bị coi thường, khinh bỉ hay kém giá trị, cũng không cần phải thanh minh hay phàn nàn gì. Nơi tôi thuộc về là ở đây, thế giới của những quyển sách kỳ diệu. Và điều tôi cần làm, không gì khác hơn, là nỗ lực tạo ra những quyển sách đẹp đẽ khác.
À, đọc đến đoạn kết, tôi chợt cảm thấy ngậm ngùi là cụ Vương Hồng Sển đã không có được bảo tàng cho riêng mình. Tôi thích những bảo tàng, nhất là những bảo tàng tư nhân mà tôi có dịp ghé đến. Chúng chứa đựng những kỷ niệm, những cuộc đời, những điều tinh tế và riêng tư của cuộc sống gia đình, và những số phận. Tôi hẹn với mình đến một lúc nào đó, sẽ đem quyển sách này đến đóng dấu tại Museum of Innocence tại Istanbul.
Có lẽ không tránh khỏi một chút spoil.
Tôi mua quyển sách này đã được nhiều năm rồi. Tôi không nhớ rõ bao lâu. Và thời gian tôi bắt đọc quyển này cũng trong ngần ấy năm.
Nhưng khi bắt đầu đọc, tôi đã bị chững lại chỗ làm tình. Cứ đọc đến đoạn làm tình là tôi lại thấy rạo rực, tôi không đọc tiếp được :))). Mà cái đoạn ấy nó lại ở ngay đầu sách. Cho nên mãi trong một thời gian dài tôi không thể đọc qua và cứ bỏ dỡ ở đó.
Thế rồi, trong một thời kỳ khi bị bấn loạn và đảo điên vì cảm giác bị phản bội (dù thực tế không đến nỗi thế), tôi cần tìm một cái gì đó để phân tán tư tưởng của mình, nên đã tình cờ nhặt quyển sách này lên. Những đoạn làm tình không còn sức hút với một kẻ kiệt sức và mệt mỏi với tình yêu, nên tôi tiếp tục đọc nữa. Và trong tâm trạng đau đớn vật vã khôn cùng của những suy nghĩ dằn vặt cứ bị nhai đi nhai lại trong đầu, tôi cảm thấy những câu chữ trong truyện đem đến cho tôi một sự an ủi. Lần đầu tiên tôi nhận ra quyển sách này cuốn hút như thế nào. Những đoạn miêu tả về tình yêu chân thật và tinh tế. Những quan sát và kỷ niệm nhỏ nhặt về người mình yêu và cuộc sống thường ngày làm tôi cảm động. Những câu chữ kể lại tỉ mỉ dường như mọi cung bậc cảm xúc có thể có khi yêu, làm tôi bị cuốn hút đến say sưa, thậm chí có thể giúp tôi có đúng cảm giác của nhân vật trong truyện, là tách rời được với thực tại. Tôi thấy mình thoát ra được khỏi những thứ tầm thường vụn vặt, những tranh cãi bon chen trong cuộc đời, và trở lại với nơi mà mình thuộc về. Thật buồn cười, là một kẻ thất tình lại tìm thấy một sự an ủi kỳ lạ và khôn nguôi trong câu chuyện của một kẻ ngoại tình.
Sách là một câu chuyện dài. Xen lẫn giữa những chi tiết miêu tả tình yêu tuyệt đẹp, là những suy ngẫm và triết lý về thời gian và ý nghĩa cuộc đời, bối cảnh xã hội Istanbul vào thập niên 70 - 80 và những sự kiện lịch sử vây quanh, tình yêu và cảm xúc bị đè nén bởi áp lực nặng nề của khuôn mẫu gia đình và xã hội truyền thống, định kiến của giai cấp và giới tính, định kiến của người khác về chúng ta và cả định kiến của ta về chính mình, tất cả đè nặng lên nhau khiến con người ta không thể hành động tự do. Tôi đã ngỡ ngàng nhận ra xã hội Thổ Nhĩ Kỳ thập niên 70 của thế kỷ trước có những nét tương đồng kỳ lạ với xã hội Việt Nam trong thời bây giờ.
Nhưng trên hết, Bảo tàng Ngây thơ là một quyển sách về cái đẹp. Cái đẹp u buồn và rực rỡ của một câu chuyện tình. Vẻ đẹp kỳ lạ vừa mơ mộng nên thơ, vừa hoang tàn đổ nát của thành phố dưới những biến động chính trị và ảnh hưởng của cơn bão văn hóa từ phương Tây. Vẻ đẹp của cuộc sống ngời lên dưới ánh mắt trong sáng và ngây thơ của một người đang yêu. Vẻ đẹp khi miêu tả nội tâm và hành động đầy mâu thuẫn của con người. Và vẻ đẹp tâm hồn và tính cách, của một nhân vật nhẹ nhàng, nhạy cảm, dễ tổn thương.
Thật kỳ lạ, là tôi cũng đọc quyển sách qua bao biến động của cuộc đời mình. Qua lúc thất tình, thấy mình cô độc và lẻ loi như một con chó nhỏ trong vũ trụ, không khác gì nhân vật trong truyện. Qua mùa ôn thi GRE căng thẳng, khi tôi nóng nảy quở trách nhân vật chính là một thằng cha điên khùng, tham lam, và yếu đuối. Qua một dịp tết ấm áp cùng với gia đình, khi tôi thấy mình như tay Kemal gàn dở, cũng từng có lần trong hành trình tìm kiếm dường như vô vọng về một điều gì đó cho bản thân mình, đã vô tình tìm thấy vẻ đẹp trong một điều khác. Qua những lúc tìm thông tin viết bài luận và thấy vài phần trong quyển sách này nhàm chán và dài lê thê.
Và ngày hôm nay, khi tôi đang đứng trước một cuộc phỏng vấn học bổng quan trọng với cuộc đời mình, khi trong lòng tôi đang cảm thấy cô đơn, tan nát vì những người mà tôi yêu thương, thấy bị cô lập và cách ly với cả xã hội loài người, tôi chợt cảm nhận rõ cảm xúc có phần "siêu việt" của nhân vật Kemal, là nỗi đau làm con người ta cảm nhận cuộc sống một cách tràn đầy và sâu sắc hơn, rằng từ nỗi đau, ta có thể cảm nhận được sự nhỏ bé của chính mình, cảm nhận thế giới kỳ diệu và bí ẩn, và lần nữa, một cách kỳ lạ, là cảm nhận về tình yêu cuộc sống qua nỗi đau của riêng mình.
Và tôi chợt nhận thấy, tất cả những điều đó cũng không có gì quan trọng. Dù những lúc bị tổn thương, bị cô lập, dù những lúc cảm thấy mình không được tôn trọng, bị coi thường, khinh bỉ hay kém giá trị, cũng không cần phải thanh minh hay phàn nàn gì. Nơi tôi thuộc về là ở đây, thế giới của những quyển sách kỳ diệu. Và điều tôi cần làm, không gì khác hơn, là nỗ lực tạo ra những quyển sách đẹp đẽ khác.
À, đọc đến đoạn kết, tôi chợt cảm thấy ngậm ngùi là cụ Vương Hồng Sển đã không có được bảo tàng cho riêng mình. Tôi thích những bảo tàng, nhất là những bảo tàng tư nhân mà tôi có dịp ghé đến. Chúng chứa đựng những kỷ niệm, những cuộc đời, những điều tinh tế và riêng tư của cuộc sống gia đình, và những số phận. Tôi hẹn với mình đến một lúc nào đó, sẽ đem quyển sách này đến đóng dấu tại Museum of Innocence tại Istanbul.
August 23, 2022
حين أنهيت الرواية تملكني شعور متضاد أأنتقد أنانية" كمال" أم أحزن عليه وتنتابي شاعرية العشق
لم أشعر أبدا أن الرواية طويلة،كنت أتابع التطور النفسي لشخصية أجاد الكاتب في نقل تفاعلاتها بصفة تدرجيا.
حسنا لنعد للرواية هي كما عبر عنها كاتبها حكاية عشق "تشرح الحالة النفسية والثقافية والإنسانية التي نسميها عشقا ببرودة أعصاب."
بالإضافة لموضوع العشق طرحت هذه الرواية مرض نفسيا منتشرا بطريقة ذكية
دون أن يبرز أنه مرض وأعجبني سبب المرض من وجهة نظر الكاتب فسرقة الاشياء التي لا تحمل قيمة مادية بنسبة للأغليية، لها قيمة معنوية للذين يسرقونها :
هو اضطراب نفسي جراء حالة حرمان أو صدمة أو فقدان.
و ذلك حال بطلنا فبعد أن فقد بشكل مفاجئ حبيبته "فسون" بدأ بالبحث عن أشياء تذكره بها وتعوض له شعور حرمانه.
فبدأ بتردد على مكان لقائهم ولمس أشيائها ثم تطورت الحالة لتصبح هوسا.
لقد استفزني الفصل "عقب السيجارة" لقد قام بالإحصاء بل بالإحتفاظ بكل أعقاب سجائرها طيلة 9 سنوات.
و راقني تذكره لكل تعبيرة و لكل حادثة مرتبطة بعقب السيجارة بل أكثر من ذ��ك فقد أصبح يعي الحالة النفسية لحبيبته من خلال طريقة اخمادها للسيجارة : غضب أم إستياء.
لكن الذي ميز "كمال" انه أصبح يقوم به بوعي منه بل يترك مكان الغرض الذي اخذه نقودا.
ثم قام بالإنشاء متحف بكل مقتنياته .
ما إستفزني إيجابيا في الرواية أيضا هو أسلوب أوررهان المعهود بنقله لمشكلة الهوية التركية.
فتركيا بالإعتبارها دولة تطل على أوروبا و لا تنتمي إليها ومتأثرة بها.
إختار هذه المرة موضوع العلاقات قبل الزواج بالنسبة للفتاة وآثار ذلك في المجتمعات في تركيا.
استعمل الفكرة ليبرز عدم قدرة الشعب التركي ان يتمركز "طبعا في تلك الفترة" بين الحداثة " اوروبا" و بين التقاليد والأعراف المتبعة.
كذلك ليبرز نفاق المجتمع فنفس الواقعة يختلف تأثيرها حسب الوسط.
أو بأحرى كيف أن الطبقة المخملية تصوره على أساس حداثة و تطور و بنسبة للفقراء تصرف ضد الناموس والعرف.
الآن نأتي للنجمات لم أعط الرواية العلامة الكاملة لانني كرهت شخصية السيد" طارق " التي لم أجد ما اصفه به:
رجل يعلم أن قريبه الذي يكبر ابنته ب 12سنة كان على علاقة بها و رغم ذلك يستقبله في بيته و على طاولته طيلة 4 أيام في الأسبوع على امتداد 8سنوات وهو على علم بعشقه لها و يمازحه .
كذلك أزعجتني انانية "كمال" وطرحت عندي كم هائل من تساؤلات :
متى يجب أن نتأخذ القرار الصواب؟ و لو اتخذنا القرار متأخرين هل نعتبر أننا قمنا بما هو لأفضل؟
ذكرتني الاجواء التي يصفها في الوسط الراقي بالعهد الفكتوري القرن 18:
من ناحية عشق الرجل الغني للفقيرة ونبذه من الوسط الراقي.
اضافة لذلك لقد ذكرتني ايضا برواية "madame bovary" flaubert و لقد وجدت مدى تأثر الكاتب به في روايته.
فكلهما عشق امرأة متزوجة وكلاهما تحول عشقهم للهوس.
و لقد عرج "كمال " على ذلك و قال أن أفضل متحف زاره هو متحف" فلوبير" الذي وجد فيه بقايا لرسائل و شعر حبيبته التي الهمتته كتابة رائعته.
الترجمة الممتازة اضفت رونقة خاصا على الرواية.
تعتبر هذه الرواية و رواية" ثلج" افضل ما قرأءت لاورهان.
و افضل ما أنهي به ما قال اورهان:
" العشق أمر يؤلمنا يحل بنا دون أن نرغب بذلك أحيانا مثل حادث سير "
Aout 2018🌹
لم أشعر أبدا أن الرواية طويلة،كنت أتابع التطور النفسي لشخصية أجاد الكاتب في نقل تفاعلاتها بصفة تدرجيا.
حسنا لنعد للرواية هي كما عبر عنها كاتبها حكاية عشق "تشرح الحالة النفسية والثقافية والإنسانية التي نسميها عشقا ببرودة أعصاب."
بالإضافة لموضوع العشق طرحت هذه الرواية مرض نفسيا منتشرا بطريقة ذكية
دون أن يبرز أنه مرض وأعجبني سبب المرض من وجهة نظر الكاتب فسرقة الاشياء التي لا تحمل قيمة مادية بنسبة للأغليية، لها قيمة معنوية للذين يسرقونها :
هو اضطراب نفسي جراء حالة حرمان أو صدمة أو فقدان.
و ذلك حال بطلنا فبعد أن فقد بشكل مفاجئ حبيبته "فسون" بدأ بالبحث عن أشياء تذكره بها وتعوض له شعور حرمانه.
فبدأ بتردد على مكان لقائهم ولمس أشيائها ثم تطورت الحالة لتصبح هوسا.
لقد استفزني الفصل "عقب السيجارة" لقد قام بالإحصاء بل بالإحتفاظ بكل أعقاب سجائرها طيلة 9 سنوات.
و راقني تذكره لكل تعبيرة و لكل حادثة مرتبطة بعقب السيجارة بل أكثر من ذ��ك فقد أصبح يعي الحالة النفسية لحبيبته من خلال طريقة اخمادها للسيجارة : غضب أم إستياء.
لكن الذي ميز "كمال" انه أصبح يقوم به بوعي منه بل يترك مكان الغرض الذي اخذه نقودا.
ثم قام بالإنشاء متحف بكل مقتنياته .
ما إستفزني إيجابيا في الرواية أيضا هو أسلوب أوررهان المعهود بنقله لمشكلة الهوية التركية.
فتركيا بالإعتبارها دولة تطل على أوروبا و لا تنتمي إليها ومتأثرة بها.
إختار هذه المرة موضوع العلاقات قبل الزواج بالنسبة للفتاة وآثار ذلك في المجتمعات في تركيا.
استعمل الفكرة ليبرز عدم قدرة الشعب التركي ان يتمركز "طبعا في تلك الفترة" بين الحداثة " اوروبا" و بين التقاليد والأعراف المتبعة.
كذلك ليبرز نفاق المجتمع فنفس الواقعة يختلف تأثيرها حسب الوسط.
أو بأحرى كيف أن الطبقة المخملية تصوره على أساس حداثة و تطور و بنسبة للفقراء تصرف ضد الناموس والعرف.
الآن نأتي للنجمات لم أعط الرواية العلامة الكاملة لانني كرهت شخصية السيد" طارق " التي لم أجد ما اصفه به:
رجل يعلم أن قريبه الذي يكبر ابنته ب 12سنة كان على علاقة بها و رغم ذلك يستقبله في بيته و على طاولته طيلة 4 أيام في الأسبوع على امتداد 8سنوات وهو على علم بعشقه لها و يمازحه .
كذلك أزعجتني انانية "كمال" وطرحت عندي كم هائل من تساؤلات :
متى يجب أن نتأخذ القرار الصواب؟ و لو اتخذنا القرار متأخرين هل نعتبر أننا قمنا بما هو لأفضل؟
ذكرتني الاجواء التي يصفها في الوسط الراقي بالعهد الفكتوري القرن 18:
من ناحية عشق الرجل الغني للفقيرة ونبذه من الوسط الراقي.
اضافة لذلك لقد ذكرتني ايضا برواية "madame bovary" flaubert و لقد وجدت مدى تأثر الكاتب به في روايته.
فكلهما عشق امرأة متزوجة وكلاهما تحول عشقهم للهوس.
و لقد عرج "كمال " على ذلك و قال أن أفضل متحف زاره هو متحف" فلوبير" الذي وجد فيه بقايا لرسائل و شعر حبيبته التي الهمتته كتابة رائعته.
الترجمة الممتازة اضفت رونقة خاصا على الرواية.
تعتبر هذه الرواية و رواية" ثلج" افضل ما قرأءت لاورهان.
و افضل ما أنهي به ما قال اورهان:
" العشق أمر يؤلمنا يحل بنا دون أن نرغب بذلك أحيانا مثل حادث سير "
Aout 2018🌹
Read
August 2, 2019* çok güzel kitap *
* a beautiful story *
* ένα ταξίδι στη χώρα της γραφής του Παμούκ *
Όταν αγόρασα αυτό το βιβλίο ήξερα ότι στο εγγύς μέλλον θα πήγαινα στην οδό Τσουκουρτζουμά να επισκεφτώ το μουσείο, αλλά από τότε μέχρι σήμερα πολλά έχουν γίνει, στ' αεροδρόμιο, στους δρόμους, ένα αμφιλεγόμενο πραξικόπημα, επίθεση με όπλο σε κέντρο την πρωτοχρονιά. Πολλά. Φαίνεται θα αναβάλω την επίσκεψή μου στο μουσείο για το μακρινό μέλλον. Όταν θα πλησιάζω τα 40.
Το [βιβλίο και το] μουσείο της αθωότητας
Ο Παμούκ είναι έξυπνος συγγραφέας.
Είχε την ιδέα να φτιάξει ένα μουσείο ταυτόχρονα με ένα βιβλίο.
Μαζεύοντας αντικείμενα για το μουσείο έφτιαχνε ταυτόχρονα και την ιστορία του βιβλίου.
Το βιβλίο τελείωσε πρώτο ενώ το μουσείο άνοιξε 4 χρόνια μετά.
Και το βιβλίο και το μουσείο έχουν το ίδιο όνομα: Το μουσείο της αθωότητας
Το μουσείο έχει 83 προθήκες με αντικείμενα που εξιστορούν μια ιστορία.
Το βιβλίο έχει 83 κεφάλαια που εξιστορούν την ίδια ιστορία με τ' αντικείμενα στο μουσείο.
Προς το τέλος του βιβλίου υπάρχει τυπωμένο το εισιτήριο για το μουσείο. Ναι, για όσους έχουν το βιβλίο μαζί τους κερδίζουν δωρεάν είσοδο. Και ο υπάλληλος εκεί θα σ' το σταμπάρει.
Μια ιστορία αγάπης. Ένα ρομαντικό βιβλίο. Ένα βιβλίο με ερωτικά τρίγωνα.
Στοιχεία που αποφεύγω όπως ο διάολος το λιβάνι.
Αλλά αυτό το βιβλίο είναι Παμούκ, είναι μεταμοντέρνο, είναι έξυπνο. Και μ' άρεσε.
Στοιχεία μεταμοντερνισμού στο βιβλίο
+ Στα δύο μεγαλύτερα κεφάλαια του βιβλίου: 24. Το πάρτι αρραβώνων (58 σελ.) και το 83. Ευτυχία (27 σελ.) εμφανίζεται ο ίδιος ο Orhan Pamuk.
"[...] Füsun had danced with two people early on. [...] The second, however, was the young man with whom I had exchanged glances a short time earlier while visiting the Pamuk family table—Orhan Pamuk himself, as he proudly told me years later." σελ. 170
*
"It was around then that I decided my voice had been heard too much anyway and that it was time I left it to him to finish my story. From the next paragraph until the end, it will, in essence, be Orhan Bey who is telling the story. Having paid Füsun such sincere, detailed attention during their dance, he will, I am sure, do no less in these last pages. Farewell!
HELLO, THIS IS ORHAN PAMUK! With Kemal Bey's permission I shall begin describing my dance with Füsun: She was the. . ." σελ. 708
+Υπάρχει χάρτης για το πώς θα βρεις το μουσείο.
+Υπάρχει ευρετήριο ονομάτων (κάτι που πολύ σπάνια βλέπουμε σε μυθιστορήματα και πιο συχνά σε μελέτες.)
+Αρκετοί χαρακτήρες από προηγούμενά του βιβλία περνούν μέσ' απ' τις σελίδες αυτού του βιβλίου:
[...] it was generally believed I had misinterpreted [...] many Nişantaşı notables [...] including Τζεβντέτ Μπέη και οι γιοι του, and his family, my poet friend Ka; (Χιόνι) and Celâl Salik, the famous [...] columnist (Το μαύρο βιβλίο) σελ. 721
+Υπάρχουν αναφορές στα βιβλία του:
"Orhan Bey, I read your novel Snow all the way to the end," he said. "I don't like politics. So please don't be offended if I say I found it a bit of a struggle." σελ. 727
+Μουσείο και βιβλίο γίνονται ένα.
+Ζωή και τέχνη γίνονται ένα.
Είναι έξυπνος αυτός ο Παμούκ και μ' αρέσει.
-Τόσα και τόσα μας είπες, δεν μας είπες περί τίνος πρόκειται:
-Ε, η ιστορία είναι απλή. Ο Κεμάλ ένας πλούσιος κληρονόμος που ετοιμάζεται να αρραβωνιαστεί την Σιμπέλ μια επίσης πλούσια κοπέλα, σπουδασμένη στη Σορβόννη, θα ερωτευτεί την φτωχή Φισούν και ζουν σαράντα δύο μέρες πάθους και ηδονής. Απ' εδώ και πέρα ξεκινά η κάθοδος του Κεμάλ σε μια δίνη όπου η αγάπη γίνεται έρωτας, ο έρωτας πάθος, και το πάθος έμμονη ιδέα.
Και εδώ είναι που βρίσκω το αρνητικό του βιβλίου για μένα.
Για 195 σελίδες (387-581) ο Κεμάλ εξιστορεί τα 7 χρόνια και δέκα μήνες που πέρασε στο σπίτι των γονιών της Φισούν. Τα δείπνα, οι συζητήσεις, τα αντικείμενα που έκλεβε για να τη θυμάται, το τι έβλεπαν στην τηλεόραση και άλλα πεζά καθημερινά. Για 195 σελίδες τα έβλεπα ξανά και ξανά και ξανά και ξανά κι αυτό με κούρασε. Αλλά από την σελίδα 582 μέχρι το τέλος (728) το βιβλίο πήρε μπρος και με έκανε ξανά να απολαμβάνω την λεπτομερέστατη και πυκνή γραφή του Παμούκ.
Θα πρότεινα να διαβάζατε πρώτα το Ιστανμπούλ: Πόλη και αναμνήσεις για να έχετε μια πιο εμπεριστατωμένη εικόνα της Πόλης πριν πάρετε αυτό το βιβλίο. Μοιάζουν κατά κάποιο τρόπο.
Παρόλο που οι χαρακτήρες σε όλα τα βιβλία του Παμούκ που διάβασα είναι ως επί το πλείστον νευρωτικοί και ιδιαίτεροι αυτός ο συγγραφέας εξελίσσεται στο να γίνει ο αγαπημένος μου. Μεγάλα λόγια. . .
Διαβάστε το! 7/10
* a beautiful story *
* ένα ταξίδι στη χώρα της γραφής του Παμούκ *
Όταν αγόρασα αυτό το βιβλίο ήξερα ότι στο εγγύς μέλλον θα πήγαινα στην οδό Τσουκουρτζουμά να επισκεφτώ το μουσείο, αλλά από τότε μέχρι σήμερα πολλά έχουν γίνει, στ' αεροδρόμιο, στους δρόμους, ένα αμφιλεγόμενο πραξικόπημα, επίθεση με όπλο σε κέντρο την πρωτοχρονιά. Πολλά. Φαίνεται θα αναβάλω την επίσκεψή μου στο μουσείο για το μακρινό μέλλον. Όταν θα πλησιάζω τα 40.
Το [βιβλίο και το] μουσείο της αθωότητας
Ο Παμούκ είναι έξυπνος συγγραφέας.
Είχε την ιδέα να φτιάξει ένα μουσείο ταυτόχρονα με ένα βιβλίο.
Μαζεύοντας αντικείμενα για το μουσείο έφτιαχνε ταυτόχρονα και την ιστορία του βιβλίου.
Το βιβλίο τελείωσε πρώτο ενώ το μουσείο άνοιξε 4 χρόνια μετά.
Και το βιβλίο και το μουσείο έχουν το ίδιο όνομα: Το μουσείο της αθωότητας
Το μουσείο έχει 83 προθήκες με αντικείμενα που εξιστορούν μια ιστορία.
Το βιβλίο έχει 83 κεφάλαια που εξιστορούν την ίδια ιστορία με τ' αντικείμενα στο μουσείο.
Προς το τέλος του βιβλίου υπάρχει τυπωμένο το εισιτήριο για το μουσείο. Ναι, για όσους έχουν το βιβλίο μαζί τους κερδίζουν δωρεάν είσοδο. Και ο υπάλληλος εκεί θα σ' το σταμπάρει.
Μια ιστορία αγάπης. Ένα ρομαντικό βιβλίο. Ένα βιβλίο με ερωτικά τρίγωνα.
Στοιχεία που αποφεύγω όπως ο διάολος το λιβάνι.
Αλλά αυτό το βιβλίο είναι Παμούκ, είναι μεταμοντέρνο, είναι έξυπνο. Και μ' άρεσε.
Στοιχεία μεταμοντερνισμού στο βιβλίο
+ Στα δύο μεγαλύτερα κεφάλαια του βιβλίου: 24. Το πάρτι αρραβώνων (58 σελ.) και το 83. Ευτυχία (27 σελ.) εμφανίζεται ο ίδιος ο Orhan Pamuk.
"[...] Füsun had danced with two people early on. [...] The second, however, was the young man with whom I had exchanged glances a short time earlier while visiting the Pamuk family table—Orhan Pamuk himself, as he proudly told me years later." σελ. 170
*
"It was around then that I decided my voice had been heard too much anyway and that it was time I left it to him to finish my story. From the next paragraph until the end, it will, in essence, be Orhan Bey who is telling the story. Having paid Füsun such sincere, detailed attention during their dance, he will, I am sure, do no less in these last pages. Farewell!
HELLO, THIS IS ORHAN PAMUK! With Kemal Bey's permission I shall begin describing my dance with Füsun: She was the. . ." σελ. 708
+Υπάρχει χάρτης για το πώς θα βρεις το μουσείο.
+Υπάρχει ευρετήριο ονομάτων (κάτι που πολύ σπάνια βλέπουμε σε μυθιστορήματα και πιο συχνά σε μελέτες.)
+Αρκετοί χαρακτήρες από προηγούμενά του βιβλία περνούν μέσ' απ' τις σελίδες αυτού του βιβλίου:
[...] it was generally believed I had misinterpreted [...] many Nişantaşı notables [...] including Τζεβντέτ Μπέη και οι γιοι του, and his family, my poet friend Ka; (Χιόνι) and Celâl Salik, the famous [...] columnist (Το μαύρο βιβλίο) σελ. 721
+Υπάρχουν αναφορές στα βιβλία του:
"Orhan Bey, I read your novel Snow all the way to the end," he said. "I don't like politics. So please don't be offended if I say I found it a bit of a struggle." σελ. 727
+Μουσείο και βιβλίο γίνονται ένα.
+Ζωή και τέχνη γίνονται ένα.
Είναι έξυπνος αυτός ο Παμούκ και μ' αρέσει.
-Τόσα και τόσα μας είπες, δεν μας είπες περί τίνος πρόκειται:
-Ε, η ιστορία είναι απλή. Ο Κεμάλ ένας πλούσιος κληρονόμος που ετοιμάζεται να αρραβωνιαστεί την Σιμπέλ μια επίσης πλούσια κοπέλα, σπουδασμένη στη Σορβόννη, θα ερωτευτεί την φτωχή Φισούν και ζουν σαράντα δύο μέρες πάθους και ηδονής. Απ' εδώ και πέρα ξεκινά η κάθοδος του Κεμάλ σε μια δίνη όπου η αγάπη γίνεται έρωτας, ο έρωτας πάθος, και το πάθος έμμονη ιδέα.
Και εδώ είναι που βρίσκω το αρνητικό του βιβλίου για μένα.
Για 195 σελίδες (387-581) ο Κεμάλ εξιστορεί τα 7 χρόνια και δέκα μήνες που πέρασε στο σπίτι των γονιών της Φισούν. Τα δείπνα, οι συζητήσεις, τα αντικείμενα που έκλεβε για να τη θυμάται, το τι έβλεπαν στην τηλεόραση και άλλα πεζά καθημερινά. Για 195 σελίδες τα έβλεπα ξανά και ξανά και ξανά και ξανά κι αυτό με κούρασε. Αλλά από την σελίδα 582 μέχρι το τέλος (728) το βιβλίο πήρε μπρος και με έκανε ξανά να απολαμβάνω την λεπτομερέστατη και πυκνή γραφή του Παμούκ.
Θα πρότεινα να διαβάζατε πρώτα το Ιστανμπούλ: Πόλη και αναμνήσεις για να έχετε μια πιο εμπεριστατωμένη εικόνα της Πόλης πριν πάρετε αυτό το βιβλίο. Μοιάζουν κατά κάποιο τρόπο.
Παρόλο που οι χαρακτήρες σε όλα τα βιβλία του Παμούκ που διάβασα είναι ως επί το πλείστον νευρωτικοί και ιδιαίτεροι αυτός ο συγγραφέας εξελίσσεται στο να γίνει ο αγαπημένος μου. Μεγάλα λόγια. . .
Διαβάστε το! 7/10
February 16, 2018
Am ezitat destul de mult daca sa incep sau nu “Muzeul Inocentei”, am ocolit-o poate din cauza numarului de pagini destul de mare, peste 600, asta dupa ce prima mea experienta cu scriitura lui Pamuk a fost cu o carte a sa de non-fictiune “Istanbul” care mi-a placut. Apoi am citit romanul ”Ma numesc rosu” capodopera sa, care mi-a placut la fel de mult este o carte care te solicita, nu este o carte usoara, dar merita efortul de a fi citita pana la final, jurul Comitetului Nobel luand decizia cea mai buna decerandu-i acestuia in 2006 premiul Nobel pentru Literatura.
Si am ajuns la” Muzeul Incocentei” cartea care poate fi asezata asa cum este mentionat si pe coperta editiei de la Polirom, alaturi de romane precum “Anna Karenina”, “Doamna Bovary” precum si “Lolita” lui Nabokov, aici doar din prisma diferentei de varsta dintre Kemal si Fusun, desi aceasta nu era minora spre deosebire de Lolita.
Am devorat cartea pur si simplu. Vocea lui Kemal istorisindu-si poveste de dragoste alaturi de Fusun te cucereste pana la final. Cartea te urmareste chiar si dupa ce ai terminat-o iti ramane acolo intiparita in minte.
"Nimeni nu ştie, de fapt, că trăieşte cea mai fericită clipă a vieţii sale atunci când o trăieşte. Poate că unii oameni pot cugeta sau afirma cu sinceritate (şi adeseori), în anumite momente de euforie, că „acum“ trăiesc acea clipă de aur a vieţii lor, dar, în ciuda acestui fapt, o parte a sufletului lor este convinsă că pe viitor vor trăi clipe şi mai frumoase, şi mai fericite. Nimeni nu şi ar putea continua viaţa, mai cu seamă la tinereţe, gândind că, de la un anumit moment, lucrurile vor merge mai prost. Dacă eşti însă suficient de fericit pentru a ţi putea imagina că trăieşti cea mai fericită clipă a vieţii tale, vei fi, totodată, suficient de optimist pentru a crede că şi viitorul va fi frumos"
Pamuk este un mare povestitor asemenea lui Tolstoi. Desi in cele peste 600 de pagini ale cartii nu se intampla foarte multe lucruri, intamplarile decurgand lent interesul cititorului este mentinut pana la ultima pagina. Cititorii nu ar trebui sa se astepte la un roman siropos de dragoste cu diverse rasturnari de situatii. Actiunea cartii de desfasoara pe parcursului a 15-20 de ani. Sunt evocati anii`70-80 ai Istanbulului, precum si viata oamenilor care traiau pe atunci: obiceiuri, traditii, conceptii care desi se vroiau occidentalizati aveau diverse conceptii si prejudecati in ceea ce priveste statutul femeii. De multe ori in carte este mentionat faptul ca o femeie care “merge pana la capat” e privita cu alti ochi si isi pierde statutul de femeie “serioasa”, multi dintre barbati refuzand sa le ceara in casatorie, ele adesea ramanand cu acest stigmat.
"Ştim însă că atunci când arătăm care a fost cea mai fericită clipă a vieţii noastre, aceasta a trecut de mult şi că, din această pricină, ne provoacă suferinţă. Singurul lucru care face suportabilă această suferinţă este câte un obiect rămas în urma acelei clipe. Obiectele rămase de pe urma clipelor fericite conservă cu mult mai multă fidelitate decât oamenii care ne au procurat acea fericire amintirile, culorile, plăcerea"
Romanul este scris la persoana I, cu trairile interioare ale lui Kemal, prin urmare suntem tentati sa credem ca personajul este un alter-ego al autorului, dar intr-o scena cheie in roman (petrecerea de sarbatorire a logodnei lui Sibel cu Kemal) autorul apare ca personaj in propria carte, iar in finalul romanului acesta face o schimbare subtila relatandu-ne povestea chiar din prisma sa schimband adresarea la persoana a III a.
Romanul este o istorie personala unde ne sunt prezentate propriile sentimente impletite cu atmosfera care domnea pe atunci in Istanbul.
Suntem purtati prin diverse cartiere si strazi ale orasului, prin zone frecventate de lumea buna a Istanbulului, lumea producatorilor de film, o industrie ce se dorea a fi asemanatoare cu cea de la Hollywood.
Nu vreau sa dezvalui aici subiectul romanului, las placerea cititorului pentru a intra in poveste si a o savura pe indelete pentru ca merita.
Si am ajuns la” Muzeul Incocentei” cartea care poate fi asezata asa cum este mentionat si pe coperta editiei de la Polirom, alaturi de romane precum “Anna Karenina”, “Doamna Bovary” precum si “Lolita” lui Nabokov, aici doar din prisma diferentei de varsta dintre Kemal si Fusun, desi aceasta nu era minora spre deosebire de Lolita.
Am devorat cartea pur si simplu. Vocea lui Kemal istorisindu-si poveste de dragoste alaturi de Fusun te cucereste pana la final. Cartea te urmareste chiar si dupa ce ai terminat-o iti ramane acolo intiparita in minte.
"Nimeni nu ştie, de fapt, că trăieşte cea mai fericită clipă a vieţii sale atunci când o trăieşte. Poate că unii oameni pot cugeta sau afirma cu sinceritate (şi adeseori), în anumite momente de euforie, că „acum“ trăiesc acea clipă de aur a vieţii lor, dar, în ciuda acestui fapt, o parte a sufletului lor este convinsă că pe viitor vor trăi clipe şi mai frumoase, şi mai fericite. Nimeni nu şi ar putea continua viaţa, mai cu seamă la tinereţe, gândind că, de la un anumit moment, lucrurile vor merge mai prost. Dacă eşti însă suficient de fericit pentru a ţi putea imagina că trăieşti cea mai fericită clipă a vieţii tale, vei fi, totodată, suficient de optimist pentru a crede că şi viitorul va fi frumos"
Pamuk este un mare povestitor asemenea lui Tolstoi. Desi in cele peste 600 de pagini ale cartii nu se intampla foarte multe lucruri, intamplarile decurgand lent interesul cititorului este mentinut pana la ultima pagina. Cititorii nu ar trebui sa se astepte la un roman siropos de dragoste cu diverse rasturnari de situatii. Actiunea cartii de desfasoara pe parcursului a 15-20 de ani. Sunt evocati anii`70-80 ai Istanbulului, precum si viata oamenilor care traiau pe atunci: obiceiuri, traditii, conceptii care desi se vroiau occidentalizati aveau diverse conceptii si prejudecati in ceea ce priveste statutul femeii. De multe ori in carte este mentionat faptul ca o femeie care “merge pana la capat” e privita cu alti ochi si isi pierde statutul de femeie “serioasa”, multi dintre barbati refuzand sa le ceara in casatorie, ele adesea ramanand cu acest stigmat.
"Ştim însă că atunci când arătăm care a fost cea mai fericită clipă a vieţii noastre, aceasta a trecut de mult şi că, din această pricină, ne provoacă suferinţă. Singurul lucru care face suportabilă această suferinţă este câte un obiect rămas în urma acelei clipe. Obiectele rămase de pe urma clipelor fericite conservă cu mult mai multă fidelitate decât oamenii care ne au procurat acea fericire amintirile, culorile, plăcerea"
Romanul este scris la persoana I, cu trairile interioare ale lui Kemal, prin urmare suntem tentati sa credem ca personajul este un alter-ego al autorului, dar intr-o scena cheie in roman (petrecerea de sarbatorire a logodnei lui Sibel cu Kemal) autorul apare ca personaj in propria carte, iar in finalul romanului acesta face o schimbare subtila relatandu-ne povestea chiar din prisma sa schimband adresarea la persoana a III a.
Romanul este o istorie personala unde ne sunt prezentate propriile sentimente impletite cu atmosfera care domnea pe atunci in Istanbul.
Suntem purtati prin diverse cartiere si strazi ale orasului, prin zone frecventate de lumea buna a Istanbulului, lumea producatorilor de film, o industrie ce se dorea a fi asemanatoare cu cea de la Hollywood.
Nu vreau sa dezvalui aici subiectul romanului, las placerea cititorului pentru a intra in poveste si a o savura pe indelete pentru ca merita.
April 30, 2022
After finishing "The Museum of Innocence," I found myself in need to talk about it. I wanted my friends to know about this, but I wanted them to know about it slowly, in small drips, and tiny pieces.
-"Do you have time for another cup of coffee?" I'd ask, "This might take a while, but chances are this book might be too long for your taste and you might not want to read it yourself, but you have to at least hear me out till the end. Let me tell you about it!"
It's not typical of me to do this sort of thing. I rarely share stories orally and usually do not even have the patience to tell a short joke, much less listen to one. But everything about "The Museum of Innocence" was different. With this, Orhan Pamuk first created an idea, then built an idea, then created a reality for his idea, and he gave a different meaning to the word "Imagination", and he left me with no option but to want to TELL, to HAVE TO tell, about the "Museum of Innocence."
Yet this is supposed to be a review so I cannot sit here and write my own summary to the book and what it represents and spoil it in this review. But what I will say is: yes, you need to read this, and yes, it will make you look at objects differently. It might make you look at life differently. In fact, this book might have a chance to ruin you. It might seduce you and leave you with no choice to resist it, and yes, it might actually ruin you. But would I still recommend it for you? The answer is yes.
If you do not plan to read the book, then I hope we'll meet one day. I'll ask you whether you have time for a cup of coffee, and if you're willing to hear me out, I'll be happy to tell you about "the museum of innocence."
Till then, you might want to consider reading "the museum of innocence"!
UPDATE:
On March 16, 2022, I actually walked into the actual "Museum of Innocence" in Istanbul. I got goosebumps walking in - to think that literature does in fact change people. As an ARmenian, I had refused to go to Istanbul, but Pamuk through his writing made me change my mind. As I browsed through the museum slowly, and went down to the basement and watched snippets of the documentary film about him, I felt comfortable in that space.
-"Do you have time for another cup of coffee?" I'd ask, "This might take a while, but chances are this book might be too long for your taste and you might not want to read it yourself, but you have to at least hear me out till the end. Let me tell you about it!"
It's not typical of me to do this sort of thing. I rarely share stories orally and usually do not even have the patience to tell a short joke, much less listen to one. But everything about "The Museum of Innocence" was different. With this, Orhan Pamuk first created an idea, then built an idea, then created a reality for his idea, and he gave a different meaning to the word "Imagination", and he left me with no option but to want to TELL, to HAVE TO tell, about the "Museum of Innocence."
Yet this is supposed to be a review so I cannot sit here and write my own summary to the book and what it represents and spoil it in this review. But what I will say is: yes, you need to read this, and yes, it will make you look at objects differently. It might make you look at life differently. In fact, this book might have a chance to ruin you. It might seduce you and leave you with no choice to resist it, and yes, it might actually ruin you. But would I still recommend it for you? The answer is yes.
If you do not plan to read the book, then I hope we'll meet one day. I'll ask you whether you have time for a cup of coffee, and if you're willing to hear me out, I'll be happy to tell you about "the museum of innocence."
Till then, you might want to consider reading "the museum of innocence"!
UPDATE:
On March 16, 2022, I actually walked into the actual "Museum of Innocence" in Istanbul. I got goosebumps walking in - to think that literature does in fact change people. As an ARmenian, I had refused to go to Istanbul, but Pamuk through his writing made me change my mind. As I browsed through the museum slowly, and went down to the basement and watched snippets of the documentary film about him, I felt comfortable in that space.
March 15, 2020
I can't believe I finished a 532 page book that was pure drudgery. But I have a good reason - I've liked every other Orhan Pamuk book I have read. I assumed that at some point it would all come together and I would understand why it was meaningful to suffer through years of a narcissistic man's wearisome obsessions about his unrequited love. Since others have rated this highly and Pamuk is brilliant, I'm probably missing something here.
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