'My Name Is Red'

My desire to read at least 25 books this year might just come true. When I travelled to Guwahati I could pick up 6 books (4 fiction, 2 non-fiction). Two of the books were bought by CL for me. Importantly I haven’t read a single title by any of the authors I’ve picked up this time (5 different authors; I picked up two titles of the same person).

The first book I read of the six was, ‘My Name is Red’ by Orhan Pamuk, the Nobel laureate of 2006. I still am reeling from the spellbinding effect the work had on me.

The novel, set in the 16th Century Ottoman empire is a murder mystery among many other things (murder mystery being the simplest of the descriptions). The novel begins with the corpse talking to the reader (the one who’s been murdered just then). Now you don’t expect a novelist to make the corpse tell the story do you? Well nor do you expect every character in the book speaking to you. But they do. Not just men and (some) women but also some of the paintings (or the attributes thereof) – as the novel is based on the lives of miniaturists of the time (the victim and the murderer are miniaturists). The novel also relates the glory of miniature painting and its decline (due to the spread of the influence of Western painting into the Islamic culture) vividly. It also is the saga of love – the love of Black for Shekure over many years. A story that recounts the love that’s lost, found and lost again. One comes across a storyteller who also happens to be a cross dresser (if this shocks you don’t read further), a world where men desire and lust for young boys (and it seems almost all men do here), a religion that influences the entire fabric of life (Islam), the gossip at the coffeehouse (where you’ll find the story teller narrating the tales of a dog, a tree, Red and the Satan) and a raging debate on the changing morals (well, the entire debate is about the change taking place in painting and painters but then one tries to read between and beyond the lines too).

Orhan Pamuk writes in Turkish. If his work is THIS brilliant even after translation, one can only wonder how marvellous it might be to read the original. As an author his triumph lies in the nuances he brings to the characters he sketches, the dry wit that flows through the narration, the beautiful critique of religion and the amazing treasure of historical data he presents without boring the readers. As I read the novel my respect grew for not just the art of miniature painting but for the religion, Islam. This is a must-read for any person who loves books.