Paris

Elif Shafak: "The Gaze"

A bit different work from others I read until now by E.S. At the beginning it did not stick to me, but as I continued, it started to uncover its value. It grows in me as a kind of investigative novel.

The text is cyclically structured-maybe superficially in the pretty much prosaic setup of the story, but writer obviously gave it more thought than we might think. I read somewhere that E. Shafak is a clever, beautiful woman. Maybe she had some bad experience with the gazes of the people? It is an usually overlooked topic, especially today when the world, pushed by the media magnates and debilism of the media market, degenerated into a celebrity culture, in which everybody seems to be asking for attention. But it is easy to imagine the topic as taken in this novel might be a hot one for many people. I remember how I thought, on seeing some really beautiful women, how their life must be affected by their beauty. And it usually invoked sadness, as it is such an unnecessary weight in one's life.

E. Shafak here chose to invert the role and speak about attracting attention by uglyness. She writes about weird and rather unusual connection of two people, fed by them being outcasts because of their appearance. It separated them from the world of "invisible", average population. They were too much visible, especially if going out together. So much that they chose not to go out in their usual persona, but to invert roles, and spice them with additional weirdness.

It is a story with insight into the world of distorted vision, not of the eye, but of the soul. A distorsion more painful, and more haunting, because of its permanence, than actual broken bone or psychological condition.

Intertwined into the story is the typically Turkish fascination with weird and unusual-it is also present in Arab world, an cultural atavism from the times before the TV and mass media. Boredom was then often chased away with the theater of weirdness or show of unusual. Today it would be in a bad taste, the world became a more emphatic place.

Pope Joan

My favorite writer here steps-in to refurbish an (un)famous Greek novel, "Papissa Joanna", by Emmanuel Royidis. The original author was excommunicated by the Orthodox Church and the book banned, sure, only to add to its glory. I was searching for the book for quite some time, and recently found it again on stock in bookdepository.com I love the possibilities we have today to acquire the rare book.

Since Lawrence Durrell did not have to worry about anathemas, and he was a product of another time (Royidis lived 1835-1904 and published the book in 1886) he could develop some of the more jolly elements of the Royidis work-and this he thoroughly did, according to the commentators who read both works. I did not yet have chance to read the original, so will not comment on this, but will only praise the readability of the book. Especially in undoubtedly completely imaginary description of the first travel of young 9th century Joanna from England to Germany and Greece. It is so lovingly unbelievable, that it might indeed show to be the closest to truth, which, we know well, is rather an unbelievably elusive category. And also completely chaotic, but beautiful. As this story is beautiful, I would give it lots of chances to be almost true in the roulette of History.

It is endearing to see how Royidis and Durrell topple the sainthood of the saints, and the reverence of the revered. Dirt of the Church is exposed in its best, and devils supper with popes in close communion. True to the bare bones, a reality show online from Vatican of the 9th century!

A highly reccomendable novel. It is also a very learned work, thanks to Royidis. It is definitely not just a spitting bowl against the Church, but an educated frontal attack on the filth of Papacy.

Curious enough, Vatican accepted it with a smiling eye. In their devilish wisdom they knew that such a triffle story can not add more than powdery dust to the already blood-stained and broken picture of the Holy See. The stink emanating from there is too strong, so that Royidis "truth" could hardly add anything to it.

D. Adams & M. Carwardine "Last chance to see"

I am a sceptical, but naive man.
Sceptical: It means that I will not fall easily for a book co-authored by an author I love. I will not buy others' wish to capitalize on my liking someone else.
Naive: I give it a chance sometimes.

Summa summarum: in this case, it was good to be naive. I was mistakenly sceptical.

This is a great Adams' writing, with a spirit and few (ending) words of Carwardine, who is obviously a great man, but rare are such writers as D. Adams.

I enjoyed every single page of the book. It delivers what it promises: an insight into the world which is slipping under our feet. It will go perfectly with books of R. Dawkins, if there are any I did not share as a gift. Until I share it-the best fate for a book, to be shared, and shared, and shared... in a word, read. It is a fun book, although it deals with not a funny topic at all: extinction of beautiful creatures.

Rhinos, bats, trees, pigeons, dolphins...and I would add, after all, humanity, is decaying faster and faster. As cleverly pointed at the end of the book (by M. Carwardine), species were always disappearing, but what is happening today is increase in the rate of extinction. It is a F1 race of extinctions. Here we should panic!

The battle is fought by idealists, or plain madmen, rarely anyone else.

Read the book, point it to your children and read to your grandchildren. It has something of a spirit of Darwin's writing about travels aboard "Beagle".

Ave Marcus Aurelius!

In the past, I tried few times to approach Marcus Aurelius' "Meditations", but somehow it did not stick with me. I always thought it strange, as in general I acquiesce with Stoic philosophy and am sympathetic with their minimalism regarding demands from the world.

Reading it now in English translation, I think that the problem was that I was approaching it in Polish or Croatian translation, in which it seemed unnatural to me. Was it the projected catholicism in those translations, even if ony in verbalisation, or bad translators, or maybe I was not mature enough yet, I do not know.

So, it took me almost half a century to mature to Marcus Aurelius. Not bad.

In a rather dry Penguin "Great Ideas" English edition, it achieved appropriate form for me, I felt that I am having a discourse with the Emperor-philosopher.

At moments it felt like reading of the excerpts from an email Emperor would write from his seclusion at some of the summer villas. Considering his timelessness-it is not a little feat to be a best-selling author for almost 2000 years after you disappear from the Earth-I give him a credit for being a bore sometimes, with his all too frequent reminders that we are not to dwell the Earth for long, and that both we and our doings will cease to be, all too soon.

So, yes, even in English rendering I did not find him jolly. It was an encounter with rather a sullen Emperor, but at least I could feel the person behind the text. It was not leading me-or the translator-to some shallow musings of a Catholic obsessive manic melancholic.

I definitely admire Marcus' being so down to earth a man, when he could bask in the purpury and not give a damn about posterity, or those before him. He did not make much of them or himself, but he remained true to simplicity of thought, loftiness was a stranger to him.

Ave Marcus Aurelius!

Elif Shafak: "The bastard of Istanbul"

When passing through "Ataturk" airport in Istanbul, I usually visit a very good bookstore there, where I can equip myself with something to read on intercontinental flights. I was waiting for an occasion to read "The bastard of Istanbul" by Elif Shafak since few years when, in the same shop, I bought her "The forty rules of love", and read it with great pleasure.

"The Bastard..." was her first book, and what a beautiful work it is! It is a family book; she found a format to reach, really, to the whole generational span of a traditional Middle East family...mostly female, that is, somehow I have feeling that "real" men of that region will not read her. Some "effeminate" figures like Orhan Pamuk, yes, undoubtedly.

The book reflects her experience as a global citizen of XXI ct., spans between Turkey and USA, between the heavy topic of mass killings of Armenians at the end of Turkish Empire, and everyday life of American average citizen. Whirls between fantastic connection between families and objects in their life througout the century and half the world distance, between shame and domestic matters, spoken and unspoken... It is a beautiful work, another gem in her collection.

It matches my personal experience of Turkey, where in mountain villages of Central Anatolia I met people as traditional and patriarchal as if they'd pop-out from an Ottoman fairy-tale, and in the same time their children, whom I met in the coastal cities of Turkey, were a modern youth, with perfectly modern longings and experiences.

It is a travel which Turkey started long time ago, and it is still uncertain where it will bring her...as the waters of international affairs are murky beyond recognition. It is not at all obvious to me that the swing of the wordly matters will bring Turkey even closer to the West. Could be that the West will, after a XX ct. drunkenness, will whirl back into its familiar vicious circle of blood and thirst for power, Christian supremacy idiocy and malice towards others. Tribal wars of Europe and post-neo-colonialism, to put it in somewhat worn-out words.

Then, thanks to the sheer power of vivid culture, Turkey will have the sincerity and authority to ditch the corrupt West and East equally, and go further on its own. An Empire is an Empire, and Ottoman was not the least of them, however badly it would crash for a moment.

I was astonished by the gamma of good literature in the bookstore-modern, worthy books, not only some bullshit "Kitchen of the East" trash. Someone must be buying and reading them, thinking about the matters moved there. This, and authors like Elif Shafak give hope, indeed, that the world is poised for more ... intelligent, if not easier times. It becomes obvious that people are not satisfied with their TV set and bowl of rice, potatoes or couscous. There is a longing for more, and good, good, long for more, this world IS beautiful!

Also sprach Nietzsche

Long time ago, when the world was young, Nietzsche's "Zarathustra" was my guide through the forest. It was so serious and successful, that I had to literally drown it in a river, as a first batch of kitten, in the way of my independent thinking.

After few decades, more exactly, quarter of a century, Nietzsche's book found his way into my hands. This time in a bit modernized, eInk edition, in English. Good, as I would not like a smell of rotten fish when reading it.

In difference to the previous version, which travelled with me for max. 80km from Zagreb, this one accompanied me from Taiwan to Europe during the last year, and appropriately I finished it in the air, somewhere above India. Really appropriate!

What new brought to me this re-reading of Nietzsche's anti-philosopher, pompous poet and dancer on the wire?

In the first place, I was not impressed at all by his independence on the opinions of others. In my previous readings I admired it a lot, and today it seems obvious to me. Obviously I absorbed well his teaching during my early days, so it became my second nature.

Similar was my (lack of) reaction at morder of the gods, idols and authorities-30 years ago he taught me all needed lectures in this, so it seemed all "obvious" today.

Poetic form, chosen by Nietzsche, is not foreign to me, and I still consider it appropriate for Zarathustra, but it was sometimes tedious in its litanies. In English it was even less impressive than I remember from Croatian translation. In original he is even more popmpous, when he wants to be so, as German can be ueber-pompous, oh yes! A seam for the lowest sewer pipe can be pronounced in German so that it will sound as the most important part of a spaceship! Jawohl!

So, this time Zarathustra did not teach me much, except showing me that i read it on time in last about 20 readings, and that it left an imposing trace in my weltanschaung. Probably this was the last it had to teach me, before disappearing in Black Forest?

Even a century after it's writing, "Zarathustra" has a word for us. In fact, I think it is even more needed today than at his birth. At that time there were many voices agains conformism, and they were louder and louder, we even fought wars for it. Nietzsche only added to a mighty river one independent stream. As a real philosopher, not philosophier, in the sense of R.M. Pirsig's definition from "Lila", he gave his vision of both the problem and the solution.

Today we definitely do not live the epoch of a super-human. I think that since 1968. when the 2nd rennaisance so utterly failed, we only de-evolutionized... I was born after that, so maybe this would explain why a prophet laughing of a divine seriousness was, and still is, so attractive to me?