Snow by Orhan Pamuk

 An enclosed setting for faulted love and political plots; this is the story of Ka in Kars.  Ka is a writer investigating the recent spate of suicides that have occurred in the area.  While the snow falls his muse also returns and he begins writing poetry again.  Kars, and the people he loves in it, gives him inspiration that, like the snow, will not last.  Blood will be shed at the end of this book but it has many farcical elements of comedy that sits strangely with its politics.  Perhaps Pamuk is trying to imply that the spectrum of the ridiculous to the serious isn’t quite so wide as usually thought.

  There is an interesting idea of the local newspaper that run stories that haven’t happened in order to encourage them to happen.  A sort of self-fulfilling prophesy but imagine what could happen if newspapers had that power, they would only create more events so that they can cover them to sell more papers.  It would be disastrous.

  Religion is a problem in the area as well as fundamentals demand more and more control of the country and is forceful in their attempts.

  Ka encounters a young ambitious sci-fi writer who he takes a roguish liking to but will die before the end.  There is potential in troubled Turkey but it has to look to more successful Western countries to take its cues from without being completely able to shake off its religious dogmas that threaten its existence.  Ka being a ‘westernised’ Turkish is viewed with suspicion and curiosity.  Ka himself seems unable to place him anywhere, not feeling at home in Germany and feeling uncomfortable in Turkey.

  There is an interesting device where Ka is able to write poems, or the poems come to him, in a way he hasn’t been able to for a long time.  There is something about the place that brings out his creativity and poetic insight.  There is something psychogeographic about this.  Turkey, while being troubled, is also a place of inspiration, both romantic and melancholic and while there is the crossfire of politics it is really the poetry that he cares about.  It’s a beautiful concept.

  There is plenty going on in this novel both terror and humor intermingle amongst human love, dreams and disappointment.  Though a lot happens it feels controlled, that Pamuk knows how it all ends and we just have to follow him through it.  It is a beautiful novel full of exquisite pain and possibilities.  You get the feeling that Pamuk has mixed emotions with his own country, which has so much to be proud of and lots to feel unhappy with.  It’s shorter than some of his other stuff (particularly ‘The Museum of Innocence’) and it’s the kind of book that’s good to read when traveling.  I enjoyed it a lot and I hope to read ‘My Name Is Red’ at some point.  He is my kind of writer.

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