Grégoire Maillard

2025 - Orhan Pamuk

Kara Kitap (1994)

Orhan Pamuk’s The Black Book is a hypnotic, intricate novel that pulled me deep into its labyrinthine streets of Istanbul and its endless reflections on identity, storytelling, and reality. While I found it a bit long-winded at times, I was ultimately captivated by Pamuk’s imagination and the way he plays with narration and perspective.

The book alternates between Galip’s search for his missing wife, Rüya, and the newspaper columns of Celâl, a famous journalist who may or may not hold the key to her disappearance. As Galip slowly begins to inhabit Celâl’s world—sometimes quite literally—his own identity starts to blur. The novel keeps circling around this idea of becoming someone else, of losing yourself in words and stories, which makes for a fascinating (and sometimes disorienting) reading experience.

One of the aspects I really enjoyed was how Pamuk explores the role of media in shaping reality. The Turkish press, with its conspiracy theories, mythologizing, and reinvention of history, becomes a reflection of a society caught between modernity and tradition. The book constantly plays with this idea—what’s real, what’s fiction, and does it even matter?

And then there are the little gems hidden in the text, like the haunting story of the painting and the mirror in the castle. That one really stuck with me—the idea of staring into a mirror so long you become part of it, or of a painting merging with reality. It sums up so much of what this book is about: the blurry lines between perception and truth, the way we construct ourselves through the stories we tell.

Pamuk is also fascinated by the concept of doppelgängers and borrowed identities. Throughout the novel, Galip not only adopts Celâl’s voice and mannerisms but also seems to dissolve into his persona, raising questions about the authenticity of the self. Can identity be inherited or fabricated? Is individuality nothing more than an accumulation of influences? The book doesn’t offer easy answers, but it forces the reader to consider how much of their own selfhood is constructed from external narratives.

Another key theme is the tension between East and West, a motif that runs through much of Pamuk’s work. Istanbul itself is a city that straddles two continents, and this duality plays out in the novel through its characters, symbols, and historical references. There’s a constant push and pull between tradition and modernity, between Ottoman heritage and Westernization, between the old and the new. This tension seeps into every aspect of the book, making it feel like more than just a novel—it’s also a meditation on Turkey’s cultural identity.

I won’t lie, some parts dragged for me. There were moments when the endless philosophical musings felt repetitive, and I found myself wishing the plot would move along. But even then, Pamuk’s writing is so evocative, so rich in detail, that I couldn’t stop reading. The Black Book is definitely not a light read, but it’s a rewarding one, full of mystery, history, and an undeniable love for Istanbul.

İstanbul: Hatıralar ve Şehir (2003)

This book was a fun and unexpected ride I’d say. Published in 2003, it juggles between being an essay on the city of Istanbul as well as being the author’s memoire of his youth which also occurs in Istanbul as the young Pamuk wouldn’t really want to go anywhere else.

Pamuk loves Istanbul like he loves his family. As he hinted at, maybe he loves Istanbul as anyone would love the city they live in as one might not have the choice to go anywhere else. Or as the author would say himself:“Why should we expect a city to cure us of our spiritual pains? Perhaps we cannot help loving our city like a family. But we still have to decide which part of the city we love and invent the reasons why.” and « I’ve accepted the city into which I was born in the same way I’ve accepted my body ... This is my fate, and there’s no sense arguing with it ».

I loved the chapters where Pamuk describes different parts of his young self. The chapter where he talks about his first love is breathtaking, the one where he fights verbally with his mother is also intense and kept me wanting more arguments just to be able to not finish that chapter. His views on money and religion were quite interesting and original in the way that he was able to discuss with his old-self and some ideas might feel unique for the foreign reader.

I might be more mitigated on the essay on the city although it had many great parts. A lot of emphasis is made on the profound sadness that emanates from the city, its collective melancholy: huzun. I might be biased by my French, but I was pretty fascinated with the thesis that the way that Istanbul people view themselves is intensively linked with how the foreign eyes, and especially the French artists, are seeing them, as well as how they are trying to flee any aspect for which foreigners would be tempted to practice Orientalism. There is this sequence of actions where the western literature creates a romanticized image of Turkey, which Turkish intellectuals internalized and which end up shaping the city’s collective consciousness, full of melancholy and an aesthetically pleasing sense of destruction.

Mingling both the essay and the memoir put me off of this book many times, feeling a disinterest sometimes with the repetition of the same ideas. But at the same time, it was a great way to mix two different kind of melancholies which happened to be strongly correlated: the one of the author as well as the one of the whole city.

Overall, this book is a great read for the one among you that would read Pamuk books as some of his reference, anecdotes, and personal stories can be found in his fiction works. Also, the book has a lot of old and sometimes personal pictures of the city, the author, and other illustrations. Many of them are from Ara Güler, a famous Istanbul photographer!

Kafamda Bir Tuhaflık (2014)

A Strangeness in my mind is the first book I read from Ohran Pamuk, and it is honestly the best book I have read for a while. Among the things I loved about it, the variety of thematics and how well they were treated is quite amazing. It's a book about love, about destiny, about Istanbul, about beliefs, about social classes, about Turkish history; but overall a book about life. Its narration unique and far from what I ever saw, and it gives to the different part of the story some unique perspectives. Also this roman is a rollercoaster of emotions, the scene of the kidnapping at the beginning really made me laugh, whereas some of the Ferhat stories feels like a police fiction, and the childhood of Mevlut is clearly a page-turner. More about Turkish history: it is fascinating how much you can learn about Turkey between the 60's to almost-nowadays, from the apparitions to the gecekondu, to the political moves, the Kurds situations, and random events such as the ship that sank with 20,000 goats onboard.

Finally, I am copy/pasting below an interesting analysis made by ChatGPT (what a life are we leaving uh?) about the symbols behind the figure of the dogs in this book:

Dogs in "A Strangeness in My Mind"

1. Guardians of the City’s Margins
Dogs in the novel often appear in the peripheral areas of Istanbul—on the fringes of neighborhoods, construction sites, and streets where Mevlut roams as a street vendor. These dogs represent the unseen and overlooked aspects of the city, much like Mevlut himself, who exists on the margins of society both economically and socially.

2. Loneliness and Alienation
Dogs are frequently associated with solitude, echoing Mevlut’s feelings of isolation as he wanders the city streets selling boza. Their presence reinforces the idea of being an outsider, navigating an urban landscape that often feels indifferent or hostile.

3. Transition and Change
The stray dogs symbolize the changes in Istanbul. As the city modernizes and expands, stray animals become symbols of the old Istanbul, displaced and struggling to survive in a new, less hospitable environment. Mevlut’s interactions with them reflect his connection to this older, vanishing world.

4. Fear and Vulnerability
At times, the dogs are portrayed as menacing, especially to Mevlut during his nighttime walks. This reflects his vulnerability and the precariousness of life on the streets. The threat posed by the dogs mirrors the larger dangers and uncertainties of urban life, particularly for someone of Mevlut’s socioeconomic status.

5. Loyalty and Survival
Conversely, the dogs also symbolize survival and resilience. Like Mevlut, they adapt to the city’s transformations, finding ways to endure despite being marginalized. This parallel emphasizes Mevlut’s tenacity and his ability to navigate a rapidly changing world.