orhan pamuk

When it's about Turkey, some things don't change. Ever. They don't change in their own ways. They keep coming back, in their own monstrous ways.
In this one world, it sometimes seems a race is on between the newly empowered and the recently dispossessed. The truth is not only that both realities exist simultaneously, but that one is a condition of the other.
"How could you, prime minister, have become so cruel, so coldhearted?" said Mahsun Kırmızıgül recently, unable to hold back his feelings on the ongoing deadly clashes in the Southeast of Turkey.
At its core, Kaan Müjdeci's film Sivas is a story about a boy (Aslan), the girl he adores (Ayse), his adversary for her love (Osman) and a magical animal. Simple enough, if it was a true fairy tale.
His new novel explores the personal experience of migration from the tradition-bound countryside to an ever-changing modern Istanbul.
"A country at peace has suddenly found itself at war both against the Islamic State and the Kurds."
ANKARA -- "A Strangeness in My Mind" is about what it means to be a poor, ordinary Turk, buffeted by the winds of modern politics and traditional mores. It is detailed, intimate, but it is also universal, dealing with emotions like shame, ambition, love and grief, and what it feels like to belong. This is not an intentionally political novel, but if there is a political message, this is it: Turkey needs to recognize its universals, not its differences. Saturday's bombing in Ankara showed us that, with devastating effect.
During the spellbinding evening, Pamuk mentioned that he does not really believe in utopias in general, and said that humanity has created "a hundred tons of memory," but only one hundred grams of utopia.
This year, you also programmed a piece by famed choreographer Sasha Waltz, who will dance a solo, accompanied by percussionist
For many people around the globe books are alive, they are collected, cherished and contemplated periodically with love. They are milestones that punctuate one's emotional and social life.
Dostoevsky was both a Western and a non-Western writer. He just despised Occidentalists who despised their own people. Dostoevsky believed, like I do, that Westernization, or now globalization, is inevitable, but it must not lead to the repression of the past, of ordinary people and their culture.
What (and how much) gets lost in translation? How does the translator operate the difficult task of rendering an author's words and stylistic choices into often completely different languages?
In a week that has strongly reinforced my belief that large international art fairs, however else you want to defend them, are the worst possible, most sterile environments ever conceived for viewing art -- the amazing book that I now have before me, Orhan Pamuk's The Innocence of Objects, makes me want to stand up and shout!
Most of the big names who did come out with novels fell flat on their faces, producing ponderous, bloated, eminently editable books (Julie Orringer, Jonathan Franzen, Jane Smiley).
Agents are heading off to this year's book fair with a host of titles from the likes of Martin Amis, Eoin Colfer and David
The deals are popping this week, and publishing is not immune. On the basis of a 4-page proposal, Alfred Knopf's Sonny Mehta
From important new fiction by Jonathan Franzen and Yiyun Li to penetrating critiques of the current political situation by Matt Taibbi and Chris Hedges, there is a lot to look forward to from publishers at all levels for the rest of the summer and the fall.