My Name Is Red by Orhan Pamuk Summary and Reviews
|
List Price: Our Price: $4.99 You Save: $10.96 (69%) Availability: Usually ships in 1-2 business days Buy Used: from $0.07 (click here) Category: Book See more book details and other editions |
|---|
Book Reviews of My Name Is Red
Book Review: Benim Adim Kirmizi
Summary: 5 Stars
This is not a review but a congratulory salutation to Mr. Pamuk for being
awarded the Nobel prize !!! My name is Red is one of those books that make
you feel sad after you have finished reading because you know that a book as glorious as this will not come along in quite a while. So read it slowly and it will reveal its hidden mystery, symmetry and ecstasy.
Book Review: Blind as a Metaphor
Summary: 3 Stars
I wish I could avoid "starring" this novel. I could just as easily give it one star or five, since I don't quite know what to make of it. I don't read Turkish, but I've visited Turkey several times. I thought I had a start on an impression of Turkish culture, but this book refutes my impression in that I can't fathom what it might mean to a Turkish reader. (There's a one-star review by a Turkish reader below, which you might want to look at.)
Many reviewers have chosen to treat My Name Is Red as a mystery novel. If I go along with that concept, I'll have to give it one or two stars at most. The "mystery" is of no interest. There are three suspects, the three brilliant miniaturists, but I can't imagine that a normal reader would give a hoot about which is guilty. They are poorly differentiated, except in external details, and I really felt no empathy with any of them. By the canons of popular mystery fiction, this book is an outright failure.
On the other hand, if I choose to read Red as philosophical fiction, in the manner of Borges or Eco, I find myself once again "blinded" by culture. I COULD do a "new criticism" analysis of the metaphor of blindness which pervades the book, but I have no confidence at all that I'd be grasping Pamuk's version of his own writing. I've seldom read a book that seemed so intellectually inaccessible. The other pervading "symbolism" of the book is the "pretty boy", AKA buggery. Okay, Orhan, what are you trying to say, something generic (genus Homo) or something specific to Islam?
I've also read Snow, which I found equally inaccessible intellectually but more rewarding in verbal excitement. Red has its beautiful passages, but I'm not convinced that even the descriptions quite translate into my culturally blinded schema or perception.
Book Review: Bloated and in need of a good editor
Summary: 2 Stars
I read this for book club. I liked parts of it, but it was just too repetitive and ponderous. The weight of all of the words suffocates the love story (to the extent there is one) and the mystery. I just wanted it to be over. Blech.Book Review: Blood for ink
Summary: 5 Stars
Crimson blood and crimson ink feature equally in this novel of dueling artistic traditions and dual murders, and both eventually merge (literally) at the scene of the crime. Pamuk's novel opens with an account from beyond the grave told by the first victim, Elegant, who has been slain by one of three fellow miniaturists; the mystery is which of his colleagues committed the crime, and Black, a man returned from exile, is engaged to unmask the culprit. By the time of the second murder, far more is at stake than just finding out who the killer is.
"My Name Is Red" is a novel that combines the medieval musings of Eco's "The Name of the Rose" with the whodunit plot of Mahfouz's "Miramar" (likewise a story of a death told from several points of view, including that of the victim). It is also a love story: of Black's formerly unrequited adoration of Sekure, daughter of the master Enishte, who has gathered a team of miniaturists and calligraphers to complete a secret book for the sultan.
This secrecy, rather than the killings, is central to the novel. Although the members of Enishte's team see only the parts of the book for which each is responsible, they all suspect the truth: that they are defying the prohibitions against "Frankish" innovations practiced by the Venetians, who "depict what the eye sees just as the eye sees it." The heresies of the Italian Renaissance are twofold: perspective and portraiture. The newfangled depth-and-shadow techniques depict "a horsefly and a mosque as if they were the same size--with the excuse that the mosque was in the background--thereby mocking the faithful who attend prayers." Likewise, the representation of individuals rather than their ideal forms is equally prohibited; it is an attempt to compete with what Allah has created, "so the observer has the impression not of a painting but of reality, to such a degree that this image has the power to entice men to bow down before it, as with icons in churches."
A particularly harrowing and memorable scene explores the lengths to which the master miniaturists will go to achieve perfection and individuality within the confines of their traditions--even if their dedication results in blindness. Equally memorable is the intricately woven passage depicting the second murder--but if you approach "My Name Is Red" with the expectation of reading detective fiction, you're sure to be disappointed.
I agree with those who complain that it's hard to tell apart the three suspects (Butterfly, Stork, and Olive); as a result, the unveiling of the perpetrator is not all that compelling--but surely that's as it should be. In Pamuk's fictional history, metaphysics trumps murder. Criminals kill for the basest of motives, but sometimes love, art, and faith are worth dying for.
Book Review: Both form and function explore a deeper conversation about the meaning of art
Summary: 5 Stars
Though at first glance My Name is Red is a murder mystery and love story, it's true genius is not found so much in the plot twists and turns but rather in the unusually poetic narrative strategy and voice, and in the brilliant discussion on the purpose and meaning of art. I didn't find any of the characters in this novel to be particularly interesting or relatable, and I had little interest in the outcome of the novel. What really grabbed me about this story was its very nuanced and extensive commentary on art as either a representation of true culture and harsh reality or as an attempt at divine interpretation and idealistic rendering.
As a cellist, I often grapple with the issue of purpose and interpretation of my music. Creating art is a constant battle between creating what you see or hear in your head while doing justice to the reality of the notes on the page or the landscape in front you. Orhan Pamuk cleverly creates his own piece of art within the dialogue and narration of the book. While much of the discussion in the book revolves around a crisis in art and most of a culture's stern opposition to change and individual style, the manner in which Pamuk narrates this story shatters literary convention and drastically changes the way that we, as readers, learn of events. It was by no means an easy read to begin with; the constant change in narrative voice and point of view takes a while to feel comfortable with. However once I understood the process of his story telling, the novel actually came to life in a whole new spectrum of colors. To my surprise, I found this new manner of description to be much more realistic and honest than a traditional singular narrative. In a world where there are no facts, and only interpretations (thank you Nietzsche) hearing every character's interpretation gives a much fuller picture than ever before. Pamuk trashes the idea of omniscient narrator, or having one narrator at all for that matter, and instates a completely original form of narration.
Just like the illustrators in the book question the validity of their traditional "style", Pamuk explores the idea of convention and originality, anonymity and individualism, through example and in depth discussion within the narrative. Both the form and function in this novel exemplify a fundamental and inevitable movement in art: change.