The Bastard of Istanbul

Seventeen chapters of this book are named after ingredients of Turkish food called 'ashure' and the eighteenth - the last chapter- is named after a poisonous chemical: potassium cyanide. Black humor. Bravo ms. Shafak

This is a poorly written novel that I honestly wish I had never picked up. I can't believe it received so many good reviews. Since that is part of the reason I decided to read it, I felt compelled to offer another opinion. The author's writing technique is generally poor. The prose is juvenile and reads like mediocre young adult fiction. There are a few good passages and I think with time and practice Shafak could be a better writer, but generally she spent too much time explaining things that were obvious to the reader (she needs to consider the old "showing, not telling" adage.) Her characters were flat and unbelievable. Because of this it was difficult to take them seriously and thus difficult to find the major revelation of the book remotely plausible. It is noble of Ms. Shafak to want to deal with the issue of the Armenian genocide in Turkey, but this novel fails to do that in a compelling fashion. For those who want to read a more moving (and better written) novel confronting the Armenian genocide I suggest Kurt Vonnegut Jr.'s "Bluebeard." For those interested in Turkish literature (another reason I picked up this book) you are better off with Orhan Pamuk or Yashar Kemal.

I decided to read it because Paul Theroux mentioned an interview with the author in one of his books.
The writing is pretty hackneyed. The book is a parade of cliches -- east meets west, each chapter headlined by some reference to a culinary ingredient (that has been done to death in chick-lit). I don't think there's a lot of talent in evidence here.

Asya, the bastard child of a youngest daughter and an unknown father, is completely uninterested in her past.

Armanoush, the daughter of a resentful American mother who remarried a Turkish man to get back at her Armenian ex-husband, is constantly confronted with and reminded of not only her personal history, but also the genocide that brought her father’s family to the U.S. to begin with.

When Armanoush decides to visit her grandmother’s home city of Istanbul, deep in the heart of a country that denies the Armenian genocide ever took place, she’s hopes to connect with the collective mourning that plagues her father’s family to this day and understand the way that the people living there think now about the tragedy.

What follows is a novel that explores deeply what gives each individual her own identity – from the day-to-day decisions we make to the past that remains lost in shadow. Should knowing the past truly affect how we act today? Is there an advantage in constantly reliving your trauma and the wrongs committed against you, or is it better to recognize that since nothing matters in the present day then neither did it matter in the past?

This is lyrical prose that will appeal to fans of 100 Years of Solitude, which may have been a reason that I didn’t like it as much as I could have (though there’s another theme handled much better in this than there was in the other book, ugh). It’s also an interesting look at current attitudes between Turks and Armenians and the way the history of the Armenian Genocide is treated today (good for someone who never knew about this event before the Kardashians and Ronda Rousey spoke out about it).

The story starts with Zelly Ha being pregnant and single in a primarily Muslim country. She lives in an all female household and the family dynamics with her sisters are interesting. The men die early and the only other male, her brother, left for America. The reader is then whisked off to America to a whole new set of characters. Another child is Armenian American and her mother marries the estranged brother, Armanoush eventually travels to Istanbul to meet her step-father's family and discover her Armenian past. Asya, Zelly Ha's, child befriends Armanoush.

The story jumps around a bit too much and lands in territory of philosophy of the Armenian deaths at the hands of the Ottomans. I really wanted to learn Zelly Ha's and Asyz's stories and the journey as a single pregnant woman in Istanbul. The stray threads eventually sew together, but it's a bit too long winded arguing over genocide versus war and instead of being Asya's story (the bastard of Istanbul). It seems like the title didn't fit the storyline. Overall, I enjoyed the family in Istanbul and figured out the twist long before the end. Worth a read.

If history contains genocide, it also contains forgiveness. Perhaps you can never forgive the country that committed such acts, but you certainly may change the way you see its people. "Collective guilt" is a concept that has very often led to genocide, so unless you want to be guilty of the same sin, it behooves you to think profoundly and avoid accusing individuals who cannot be guilty, even if they are carelessly unaware of crimes of long ago. On a national level, there has to be recognition. Shafak writes of this and was put on trial by those who still deny. Turks and Armenians, Germans and Jews, Anglo-Americans and Native Americans----there's a long list on the wall of History. Memory survives long after the deeds are over.
Though absorbing and written in good language, I could not decide if this saga of two families is a political message masquerading as chick-lit or chick-lit masquerading as a political message. Rich in characters, but also in coincidences, I found Shafak's work to be moving, if sometimes unnecessarily wordy. A tale of a Turkish family with undiscovered links to an Armenian one, the story brings them together partly, but not wholly. While a skeleton in the Turkish family closet comes to light, the real link between these two families remains a secret. This reflects the state of relations between the two peoples and their history. I admire Shafak as a brave person of good will and humanity, but must say that comparisons to Amy Tan and Bharati Mukherjee (on the cover) do not do her justice. Even if her style may resemble those two, I think her content is far more important and serious. That's why I made the comment about chick lit and political messages.

P.S. My Penguin edition was missing 33 pages and instead repeated an earlier section. Bad printing or editing?? I hope this error was corrected.

I ordered this book in the Spanish language but received it in English twice! which I returned. My Spanish book club had chosen it as our monthly selection and I wasn't particularly interested in reading it in English as I have many other books I am planning to read and this is not one of these..

An interesting, thoughtful novel about an unusual family of women in modern day Istanbul. There were some undertones of the fantastical, with the family "curse" that every male dies young. What makes this book lovely and poignant are the inner voices of the characters and the way the author charts their emotional growth. The story line revolves around a young Turkish woman (the "bastard") who is raised by her mother and unique, odd aunts in a rambling old traditional konak house in Istanbul. The narrative arc centers on an American cousin who visits Istanbul. The story is colored and informed by historical tensions between Turks and Armenians, and ends with a shocking revelation about its central characters.

What a disappointment. I read another book by Shafak, "Honor", and loved it. Unfortunately, this book is a mess. The story constantly flips through different time periods, leaving me confused and having to try and backtrack to follow it. The characters come and go, Rose's first husband disappears and then shows up at the end of the book. Her second husband gets very little play yet suddenly does something shocking towards the end of the book. The reader does not get to know either man, nor do they get to know Rose, who is shown as a bitter, hardened woman.The families are stereotypical, being cold to outsiders while within their own homes, they are very dysfunctional. Shafak goes overboard on the descriptions of family events or local places, The cafe and its denizens is described in tedious detail, none of it of any interest, which drags the story down even further.

The worst part of the novel is the constant references to the Turks vs the Armenians. If she wanted to write a book about the genocide that occurred, fine, but it had little to do with the story and the prejudice made me dislike most of the characters. Basically, except in flashbacks, nothing really happened. I can't say that I understood any of the characters, and while I forced myself to read to the end, I can't say I cared what happened to them.

I will probably read another of her books, and I hope it is better than this mess.

"The Bastard Of Istanbul" generated a controversy. Its Turkish author, Elif Shafak, was put on trial a couple of years ago for "denigrating Turkishness"(her own words) because the novel contains many references to the Armenian Genocide in 1915. Charges were dropped later on.

The book was written in English originally. The story interweaves past and present, Turkish, Armenian and American backgrounds. Many characters are depicted, the Kazanci family in Istanbul and the Tchakhmakhchian family, of Armenian origins, in the USA. Through the younger generations in the persons of Asya (Turkish) and Armanoush (Armenian American) we are taken back and forth in a sequence of names, places and events which will ultimately reveal a connection between the two extended families and a terrible, long-ago buried secret will be discovered.

This is an intricated story with many relevant characters and the tale is revealed almost entirely through the feminine side of each family, mothers, daughters, granddaughters and so on. To be more specific would unavoidably involve spoilers. Generally speaking however I would add a few comments:

Something negative:
. I thought some characters were underdeveloped with main reference to the Armenian/American side of the family, whereas the author seemed to concentrate on other, less important -to me- details.
. Some connections were a bit tricky to... keep track of given that there are so many characters described.
. I did not entirely appreciate the fact that some relevant aspects of the story were revealed to us -the readers- by Banu's djinns (Banu being one of Asya's aunts, a religious clairvoyant) but they were not shared later on with the main characters.

Having said that, here comes the positive:
. This book is reminiscent, in part, of some Latin American narrative tradition (the great Gabriel Garcia Marquez comes to mind) where magic merges with reality -magic realism- I am not comparing Shafak with Marquez, it goes without saying, but I read almost all of his books and would always find myself being pulled into his storytelling as in a vortex. To a lesser degree, this has happened similarly with this book.
. I loved the blending of so many characters and cultures, some of them spiced up by life events, others less flavoured. Mentioning different foods is almost inevitable as every chapter has a herb/spice/fruit title, each aromatic quality finding the relevant niche within.
. Foods (although not described in full) blend in turn with poetry or native songs. The narrative is sometimes bold but very effective. Some situations are peppered with humour, mostly sardonic, often caustic, some others are sprinkled with harrowing melancholy, a yearning for the past, for the roots. A search for the sense of belonging. It is all projected with great intensity through both sides of the story.
And the eternal questions lingers: is it better "to know or not to know"?

It all comes together, perhaps disjointedly at times, but beautifully, with an original quality.

"The Bastard Of Istanbul" is a strong title but it is not just about "the bastard", in this case Asya who has never known her father. Bearing in mind the controversy, the author seems to have "stepped on some toes". It is only natural that curiosity is piqued about her personal circumstances for the subject chosen as the main historical background for this novel. The Armenian Genocide is, to many, an open wound to this day. My standardly average level of information may not, in this case, make me fully "equipped" for a more knowledgeable opinion, but I have to say that, strictly speaking about the book, the main message I perceived is one of positivity, of hopeful integration, not forgetting or denying the past but looking at it respectfully, for a better present and future. Various characters are given a voice from both Turkish and Armenian perspectives. I felt as if a stretching hand was reaching out, trying to build an imaginary starting-over bridge through the new generations, represented by Asya and Armanoush. Commendable try for what still seems to be an unresolved and painful issue.
The result in my opinion is a fascinating and, to a degree, almost mystical novel. Engrossing until the shocking end (unrelated to the historical events).

Fascinating story of the intersection of the lives of a Turkish family with that of an American-Armenian girl, who comes to Istanbul looking for her family's past. Interesting in the way it shows how a topic that has been unmentionable in Turkey -- the fact that a massive wrong really was done to the Armenian community -- is starting to come out into the open. Only starting to: the author found herself in trouble for "anti Turkish speech". As a novel, this is pretty good, if a bit discursive. Also, why do there have to be so many wildly eccentric characters? Still, well worth reading, for enjoyment as well as instruction

This is an entertaining novel and a wonderful story of how the cultures of two families become intertwined with their personal relationships.
Elif Shafak has created two fascinating young women, one a Turk living in Istanbul with her Aunts and one an Armenian living in Arizona with her mother and stepfather. Each girl is intelligent and they both enjoy reading although one is obsessed with existentialist authors while the other is immersed in modern literature. It is clear that the author has read Kundera and others, even though her book is sometimes a bit uneven and some of the large cast of characters are mere shadows.
How the girls, Asya and Armanoush, come to know each other and their lives come together as the history of their families unfolds makes this a fascinating story. With the ghosts of the Armenian genocide in the background and other dark ghosts closer to home you are not surprised when one of the "Aunts" consults her jinns for help with the family mysteries. I enjoyed this novel and would recommend it for those interested in Turkish and Armenian culture as it changes in the current world.

This novel caught my attention because of media coverage. It kept my attention because of the characters and the way the story developed.

For me, the central theme of the novel was interpretation and denial of truth. We see how, over time, facts can be distorted and reinterpreted, or just denied. All of this is in the much broader context of the treatment of the Armenians in 1915 - which resulted in Ms Shafak being accused of 'insulting Turkishness'.

You can - if you choose - ignore the politics and be swept up by the wonderfully idiosyncratic characters. The narrative style meanders through the lives of the characters sometimes avoiding aspects that might seem important to the reader in favour of details that appear incidental.

Still, each of the main characters (particularly the women in Istanbul)and to a lesser extent the family in the USA keep the story moving. Who can resist the notion of using Auntie Feride's hair colour as a guide to her insanity? Or Auntie Banu's relationship with her djinns? The younger women: Asya and Armanoush are not, in my view, as well developed but perhaps that is for other reasons.

The result is an interesting story built on shared but contested history. Ultimately, as in all struggles, there are 'winners' and 'losers'.

Recommended.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

Nationalists in Turkey brought legal charges against author Elif Shafak, saying she had insulted Turkish identity by having the Armenian-American characters in this book discuss the 1915 genocide.

In actuality, this book is about the secrets that families do not discuss as well as the uncomfortable truths that nations want to ignore. It is as rich and spicy and filling as the Turkish food it describes in loving detail and its wisdom is seasoned with a healthy helping of humor.

The book opens with a beautiful, 19-year old woman walking in the rain in Istanbul, cursing the rain, the traffic, the men ogling her, her broken shoe and her lateness to an appointment. It is a masterful, revealing portrait. By the time she reaches her doctor's office we think we know everything important about her as a character.

Then we learn she is at the doctor's to get an abortion.

However, she screams so much under anesthesia that the doctor decides not to do the operation. Nineteen years later, the story begins with the daughter, named Asya.

Half the world away, an American woman named Rose is grocery shopping in Arizona. She's a bit of a ditz, dumping things into her cart for no good reason. She encounters a young man from Turkey looking at garbanzo beans and flirts with him, more because she knows her ex-husband, an Armenian-American, would hate the thought of a Turkish stepfather to their baby daughter. Nineteen years later, that daughter is a young woman, caught between cultures. She goes to Istanbul and meets Asya, a meeting fraught with disaster, salvation, grief and hilarity. Do I appear to contradict myself? Then read this grand rascal of a novel. You'll see...

A great story explaining the different cultures in a society which tries to adjust to today's world. Not every family member in the story has the same POV. ...and at the end story has a sad twist which broke my heart. I love narrator (Narrated by: Laural Merlington). It was an easy voice to listen to. I will probably read/listen to another book from the same author.

Any review of Elif Shafak's latest novel, THE BASTARD OF ISTANBUL, is sure to mention the surrounding controversy. When the book was published last year in Turkey, Shafak ended up facing a prison sentence because of what her fictional characters say about the massacre of Armenians under the Ottoman Empire, a tragedy not officially recognized by the Turkish government. This drama could overshadow the book itself, but instead it should contribute to the poignancy of the story.

The titular bastard is Asya Kazanci, a young woman living in Istanbul in a house of eccentric and loving women. Asya is rebellious, even though her "aunties" are fairly tolerant. She is obsessed with the music of Johnny Cash, smokes cigarettes behind her family's back, and ditches the ballet lessons they pay for so that she can sit and drink in a cafe with a bunch of world-weary existentialists. Asya's rebellion is inherited from her mother, the stunning "auntie" Zeliha who had Asya when she was just 19 and now runs a tattoo parlor catering to the artistic and secular of Istanbul. Shafak suggests that Asya's rebellion is part of being an Istanbulite, and the city itself is a major character in the novel. Zeliha has never revealed the name of Asya's father, and much of Asya's identity is tied up in her being a "bastard." But her identity as a woman, as a Turk and as a daughter of Istanbul will be challenged when a bold Armenian American woman arrives on her doorstep.

Armanoush Tchakhmakhchian is a college student in Arizona. Raised between her Armenian family in San Francisco and her mother and Turkish stepfather in Tucson, she, like Asya, struggles with identity. She feels deeply connected to her Armenian ancestry and is often ashamed of the fact that her mother married a Turk, Mustafa, after she and Armanoush's father divorced. She decides that a trip to Istanbul, to explore her family's past and to reconcile her feelings for Turkey, will allow her to move on with her life and sort through some of her confusion. She decides to stay with Mustafa's family in Istanbul, and Mustafa's niece happens to be Asya.

When Asya and Armanoush meet, they each begin to sort out their personal, national and ethnic identities, and uncover several family secrets.

THE BASTARD OF ISTANBUL is both funny and sad. Shafak's prose, although sometimes heavy-handed, conveys the spirit of both young women and the city that connects them. Readers feel for the characters who, often kooky, seem quite real (and mostly likable). The violence against the Armenians is addressed with respect and without being preachy. It is only sentences such as this that can slow the story down: "If there is an eye in the seventh sky, a Celestial Gaze watching each and every one from way up high, He would have had to keep Istanbul under surveillance for quite some time to get a sense of who did what behind closed doors and who, if any, uttered profanities."

Shafak nicely blends realism with a touch of the supernatural and mystical for an enjoyable and subtly thought-provoking read. She evokes the sights, sounds, smells and especially the tastes of Istanbul; her portrait of the city is at once romantic and brutally honest. It soon becomes clear that, despite the title, Asya is not really the central character. The story focuses on the relationship between Asya and Armanoush as each tries to negotiate a partially concealed past and an unknown future. This allows the unfolding of the stories of the two families, the Tchakmakhchains and the Kazancis, and how they are deeply connected. By the end of the novel, family secrets are revealed, and while the characters learn much, Shafak allows them to maintain certain notions and prejudices even as she attempts to strip them from her readers.

In the end, despite some problems with the prose, THE BASTARD OF ISTANBUL is an interesting book from a young novelist who already has made her mark in world literature and deserves to be read apart from the surrounding controversy.

--- Reviewed by Sarah Rachel Egelman

In the end, I really enjoyed this book. Though my interest wavered in the first half, I had a hard time putting it down towards the end. I am a big fan of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. And while I wouldn't go so far as to put Elif Shafak in the same league as Mr. Marquez, there are elements of the mystical in this book that will interest those who appreciate classics such as 100 Years of Solitude and Love in the Time of Cholera. Ms. Shafak does a commendable job of weaving the details of the Armenian genocide into the story line of the book, without making the book a tragedy. Though her writing can be a bit elementary at times, the story itself shines through. I read this book while traveling in Turkey and would recommend it to those who are planning a trip to that wonderful country, or anyone else who enjoys a good story regarding complex characters, family relationships, historical perspectives and distant lands.

This well-written story with engaging characters helped me understand the undercurrents that still haunted the city that I visited as a teen in 1987, and gave me a sense of solidarity with the women from a distant race a culture.

When we planned our trip to Istanbul, I gathered several books to read about Turkey, wishing to learn about the culture. I read this one after returning home and found the remarks about Turkish culture to be accurate. As the plot becomes more complex, the story has an interesting twist (not totally unexpected) and I was captivated until I reached the end.

As other reviewers have noted this story seems to eaither lose or gather speed towards the end, depending on what sort of story you prefer.

I found it very enjoyable, but probably side with people who have claimed that the resolution seems quite rushed and a bit ill-thought out compared to what we see during the rest of the novel.

Some of the characters are fully realized, most notably Aunty Banu, Petit-ma, Asya, Rose and, up to a point, Mustafa. Other characters are more described than realized, and as such their movements during the story seem almost random. Some sub-plots seem to more or less be forgotten: Asya's love life, Armanoush's problems with boys and anything to do with her Armenian family. In all it seemed like two novels were mashed together: one a gentle teen soap opera, and the other a tragic family drama harking back to Turkey's founding as a modern nation. I think the plot could have used a bit of work, or at least a bit more explanation earlier on, but the warmth of most of the story went some way to making up for this.

I would be interested to read Elif Shafak's other works.

The Bastard of Istanbul by Elif Shafak is probably one of the most beautiful and emotional books I've ever read, if not the most, and I consider myself an avid reader.

I have never written a Customer Review, not once, although I buy books on the store constantly. Upon finishing this book, however, I felt compelled to recommend this book to the store shoppers because I truly wish anyone with literary interests could read this book and appreciate it the way i did. I absolutely could not contain the beauty, emotion, and melancholy that I felt when reading this book and felt selfish if i did not try to share the feelings with others by recommending it to other readers.

If you are considering reading this book, I honestly cannot recommend it enough and would personally guarantee that you will not be disappointed. This book has so many beautiful layers, stories within stories, and fascinating revelations, it's impossible not to become immersed in its pages.

Personally i can't wait to read more of Shafak's work. It's not often you come across such an immensely beautiful godgiven talent.

The Bastard of Istanbul took my breath away. The feeling stayed with me for days after i turned its very last page. This story evoked such beautiful feelings inside me that i could not contain my tears when reading it, and never in my life have i had such an experience.

The bottom line : READ it. It doesn't disappoint, not ever in any of its 357 pages.

This book is a pleasant surprise. The characters are endearing and engaging. Revolving in the background is the question of the Armenian genocide; the novel touches directly and indirectly on the subject of truth versus denial. The reader experiences how the passing of time eases, alters, and erases factual events - not that far removed from the actual interpretation of the Turkish Ottoman state surrounding the Armenian genocide of 1915. Of course, the political intonations are unobtrusively woven so that one can choose to be carried away by the distinctive characters and storyline.

It is hard to understand the history if you cannot travel to that age with pages you read. Elif Safak creates a wonderful story reflecting the feelings of different people from different nations, how they feel about each other and how misunderstandings and love blossoms and especially how they are closely mixed with each other through generations of living togather and marriages, in an atmosphere sometimes enriched with unnatural things. Thanks for the wonderful book Safak.

I just finished reading The Bastard of Istanbul and I truly enjoyed it. This is the first book I read from this author and look forward to reading more of her. I had never read anyhing from that part of the world and I enjoyed the description of the country as well as their wonderful dishes. I find it funny that being so far away from the Middle East there are so many things in common yet also so many differences. For those with a desire to fly to other countries, I recommend reading this book.

I was really excited to start reading this book, and the beginning was very well written, with wonderful descriptions of the people and environments. I felt I was seeing and hearing what the characters were experiencing. But as the book went on, the descriptions and storylines were loosening and just not as tight as the beginning of the book; and there was that whole incorporating the 'magical' aspect that was a bit much (not saying it wasn't creative, but a bit much) and the ending just didn't seem like the same time and effort was applied as it was in the beginning.

The twists and turns of foreshadoeing and flashback were manipulated by Elif to elicit an amazing work of literature. A sequal would be in order since she took us to the apex and left us hanging, yearning for more.

As a first generation Armenian-American whose parents are from Istanbul, I felt an immediate connection to this book. From the first chapter, I was immediately engrossed in the story and the characters. The text is vivid, and I found myself smiling as I read descriptions of Armenian food and customs. The characters offer interesting perspectives on the Armenian-Turkish issue. I would recommend this novel to anyone, especially to Armenian-Americans like me.

The Bastard of Istanbul is not just an entertaining story. It is an engaging and enriching work of literature. Each chapter is named for an ingredient in a symbolic Turkish recipe. Each ingredient is cleverly worked into the storyline.

One family is described as being out of a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel. A critical character is described as making "a good Dostoyevsky character."

This is a story of bold, passionate, and often eccentric women contending with the forces of tradition, modernity, and the supernatural. You are drawn into a world of exotic customs and mouth-watering foods. It held my interest through to the end of the surprising and satisfying final chapter.

This is the best novel I've read in years.

The genocidal slaughter of Armenians by the Turkish government in the period 1915-22 is a historical fact. Few people other than Turkish nationalists and the present Turkish government would argue with this. That it is little talked about has something to do with its distance in time and also with the desire of many governments to avoid annoying a strategically important Middle Eastern country. Shafak's novel is an attempt to show that this tragic event resonates in the present. She fails miserably.

Technically, this is a terrible novel. Most of the characters exist only to act as mouthpieces for various points of view. This is particularly true of Amy, the young Armenian-American who goes to Istanbul in search of her roots, and along the way delivers a variety of speeches about the Armenian genocide that may as well have been lifted from newspaper editorials. Just to hammer home her talking points even more, the author has "scenes" set in a cyber chat room that consists of more stilted speechifying. Asya, the bastard of the title, is more symbol than character (more on that later), and secondary characters, such as the Turkish Kazanci sisters and Amy's various Armenian-American relatives, do little more than act in a colourful manner, which generally means forcing various foodstuffs on people. And the plot? There barely is one. Shafak trots out a busload of characters and then gives them little to do, hence we get a lot of parenthetical discussions of folklore, food, and customs, most of it no more insightful or revelatory than the average travel article. And the less said about using a character's imaginary djinn ally to fill in some historical and personal background, the better.

But Shafak's biggest error is her decision to shoehorn in a Symbolic Event which is meant to stand as a reflection of Turkey's denial of what it did to the Armenians. This event revolves around the mystery of who Asya's father is, and any astute reader should have the mystery solved at the halfway point. It's at that point I wanted to toss the book away because the symbolism was so obvious, so contrived, so clumsily handled, it makes the book feel like it was produced by a committee of creative writing students.

Yes, this novel is a comprehensive disaster, but Elif Shafak is not entirely without talent. She can write with energy and humor, and in the character of Zeliha, Asya's mother, she actually creates someone we want to follow and learn more about. For more current and interesting information on issues surrounding the Armenian genocide, check out Robert Fisk's columns online at the The Independent.

Read more of my reviews at Jettison Cocoon dot com.

Elif Shafak's novel "The Bastard of Istanbul" is set in contemporary Istanbul with important scenes in Arizona in San Francisco. The novel was written in English and published in the United States in 2006. Earlier, in 2003, the novel was published in Turkey where it resulted in a prosecution of the author that was subsequently dismissed. The book has several themes, some of which are important, but all of which are patched together. The book examines the relationship between Turks and Armenians particularly in 1915. Many people have concluded that the Turks practiced genocide of serious proportions on the Armenians. The Turks officialy deny this. The novel shows modern day Turks and Armenians wrestling with their history and with the tragic earlier events. The book is also about two young women in their early 20s who are thrown together somehow and, who, like many people, struggle with with the illusive, ill-defined concept of personal identity. The book also is about the relationship between women and men as shown through the eyes of quirky, mostly appealing female characters, and much less sympathetic and largely absent men.

The plot of the book and the family structures are complex and tangled. There are two family groups. The first family is Turkish and located in Istanbul and consists of four sisters and no men. The men in the women's lives have died or disappeared in various ways. The sisters have a brother, Mustafa, who moved to the United States to study when he was 20 and who has remained in the United States, when the events of the book occur, at the age of 40. One of the sisters is mentally ill while another sister reads tarot cards and has clairvoyant powers, including two spirits which accompany and advise her. The sister that received the most attention is named Zeliha. Zeliha is a religious skeptic who dresses in short skirts and high heels. At the age of 19 she had a child out of wedlock, and she has never revealed the father. Her daughter is named Asya, who at the age of 20, is much like her mother in dress. Asya likes the music of Johnny Cash and reads French existentialists, particularly the wonderful book of Emmanuel Levinas, "Totality and Infinity". Totality and Infinity: An Essay on Exteriority (Martinus Nijhoff Philosophy Texts), which I read in my own graduate study of philosophy.

The second family centers on a young woman named Armanoush, or Amy for short. Amy is reserved and bookish and spends most of her time reading rather than trying to socialize with or appeal to young men. She is the daughter of an American woman, Rose, and an Armenian man from who Rose was subsequently divorced. For her second husband, Rose chooses a Turkish man, Mustafa, who has remained in America. Rose and Mustafa live a quiet, essentially contented life in Arizona. Amy's father and his extended Armenian family live in San Francisco and Amy spends her time between her father and his family and her mother and step-father Mustafa.

The two families and the two young women are awkwardly joined together when Amy decides to travel to Istanbul, a decision she keeps from both parts of her family. She invites herself to stay with Mustafa's sisters and during the visit becomes close to Asya. When she makes this decision, the book almost seems to be moving in the direction of a work which will study an American woman's reaction to Islam and women. But the author and Amy assure the reader that this is not the case. The purpose of Amy's impulsive decision to travel to Istanbul in Turkish-Armenian relations and Amy's own quest to understand these sources of what she sees as her identity -- in the person of her Armenian father and his family and her Turkish step-father and his family whom she has never met. The four sisters take her in, and Asya asks them about the killings of Armenians in 1915. The sisters profess ignorance.

As the book progresses, Amy and the reader see more of Istanbul and of Turkish-Armenian history from various perspectives. This portion of Turkey's past is also combined with many secrets and hidden events of Asya's family which become exposed as the plot develops.

I found the book awkward, contrived, and poorly written. The history of the Turks and the Armenians is buried under a welter of other much weaker material and, for the most part, is not told well. The characters in the Istanbul family are eccentrics and largely stereotypical. They are described in a sentimental, syrupy manner with predictable attention to meals and indulgent portrayals of the family cats. The intellectual interests of the two young women, particularly Asya's delight in Johnny Cash and her reading of Levinas, are forced and mannered and have little to do with any threads of the book. The author overwrites, pounds home her points repeatedly, and shows more than usual narratorial omniscience in commenting on the actions of her characters and their motivations. While the author and Amy are narrowly correct in disclaiming "Islam and women" as the theme of the book and of Amy's trip to Istanbul, the theme of gender relationships dwarfs the stated theme of the book of Turkish-Armenian history. The family of women, and the two young girls, are shown as independent, thoughtful, vulnerable, and human. The men are absent, boors, vulgar, at a loss for what to do with themselves, and worse. The gender themes of the book have nothing to do with Turkish-Armenian relationships and history. These matters crossed the line of gender. The focus on gender sterotypes and of male conduct at the most offensive level detracts greatly from the book or from any serious understanding of a part of history that deserves to be studied and understood.

In general, when I read a novel I don't like, I rate it three stars on grounds that most books, including this one, have some worthwhile passages and that a rating of two stars or less is overkill. But I seriously disliked this novel. The plot is replete with coincidence, the writing is poor, and the gender bias offensive. Thus, with some reluctance, I departed from my usual practice in rating this book.

Robin Friedman

Altogether a beautiful book, however, in its attempt to emulate a languid oral storytelling tradition, the end result is far more akin to an MTV video debut: crammed with disjointed scenarios strung together with a weak and somewhat far-fetched storyline. Characters, events, objects are all either over or under described. It either leaves nothing to the imagination or leaves one with the feeling of overwhelming clutter. One can easily imagine what Rose is like and may even know someone like her in life. Her ex-husband Barsam on the other hand, practically disappears after the first chapter and only resurfaces at the end of the book to relay bad news. And Zeliha, from whom the story is launched and is certainly not your typical Istanbulite, how did she become the way she was? Describing her as the rebellious youngest daughter over and over again does not reveal anything.

Chronological figures also do not seem to be the author's strength. Petit-Ma is described as a "little girl" in 1923 when judging from the rest of the story, it appears that she was born circa 1908. Worse, 20 yr. old Mustafa is described to be in Istanbul with Zeliha just when the family secret is revealed which is contrary to an earlier chapter that describes the 18 yr. old being shipped off to the US.

The book's dialogue is also curious. Asya and her friends at Cafe Kundera greet each other with "Yo, ....". Do Istanbulites actually greet each other with "Yo" or are they all wannabe homeboys? There are also plenty of "yeahs" from the non-Americans. I'm quite sure that every language has its equivalent of "yeah" but the overall effect in the book gives the impression that the story could have occurred anywhere, not just Istanbul. At one point, I was wondering if the book was translated to English and in the process, was injected with a little street cred.

In all, I was quite disappointed with the book given all the glowing customer reviews that I had read about it. Describing intricate details and emotions certainly set the mood but can not save an average story.

You know the basic Writing 101 advice to "show, not tell"? Elif Shafak could use a refresher course. Before we are ever shown the characters relating to their environments, we are told who they are. This character is a nihilist. This character is a rebel. This character is mentally unstable. Et cetera. They are caricatures and mouth pieces with no depth or individuality. None of them have a unique voice. It is so painfully boring to read, in spite of what really could have been an interesting novel.
The intellectual tangents are so drawn out, self-important, and unrelated to the rest of the plot that they distracted me from the few elements of the book I did like. I pushed through to page 234 because of my book club, but could simply not make myself go on. The rest of the book club felt the same way and not one of us finished it. We thought it might have been the fault of an incompetent translator until we realized that Ms. Shafak wrote it in English. Oops. Try again.

I gave up before I got half way through.

Honestly, I think you probably have to be of Armenian or Turkish heritage to enjoy this book. To me, it was slow, badly written with characters that were mostly caricatures. Alot of them didn't even have names - they were just "the incredibly untalented poet", "the disolute cartoonist". Very little of either Armenian or Turkish culture came into the book, though - it was just the main characters relatives - none of whom were likable. The author also doesn't have a good sense of contemporary English language - "she donned a dress" - most people would say "she put on a dress"; "why don't you respond to me?" - most people would say "why don't you answer me?". Plus a lot of odd description - "saturnine smile" - what does this mean ?

Asya, the bastard child of a youngest daughter and an unknown father, is completely uninterested in her past.

Armanoush, the daughter of a resentful American mother who remarried a Turkish man to get back at her Armenian ex-husband, is constantly confronted with and reminded of not only her personal history, but also the genocide that brought her father’s family to the U.S. to begin with.

When Armanoush decides to visit her grandmother’s home city of Istanbul, deep in the heart of a country that denies the Armenian genocide ever took place, she’s hopes to connect with the collective mourning that plagues her father’s family to this day and understand the way that the people living there think now about the tragedy.

What follows is a novel that explores deeply what gives each individual her own identity – from the day-to-day decisions we make to the past that remains lost in shadow. Should knowing the past truly affect how we act today? Is there an advantage in constantly reliving your trauma and the wrongs committed against you, or is it better to recognize that since nothing matters in the present day then neither did it matter in the past?

This is lyrical prose that will appeal to fans of 100 Years of Solitude, which may have been a reason that I didn’t like it as much as I could have (though there’s another theme handled much better in this than there was in the other book, ugh). It’s also an interesting look at current attitudes between Turks and Armenians and the way the history of the Armenian Genocide is treated today (good for someone who never knew about this event before the Kardashians and Ronda Rousey spoke out about it).

Two young women, on Turkish-Armenian and another American-Turkish, meet and find they are dealing with issues deep in their national history. Each is seeking resolution and freedom from families holding grudges and defined expectations. The reviews, written before mine in this section, already praise and honor the story.
My concern was what happened to Zeliha, after she discovers the identity of her father. Other than that I was most pleased.