Book review: The Bastard of Istanbul – A Journey Into the Past

When I read The Bastard of Istanbul by Elif Safak, the first thing I noticed is the writing style: it is exactly like the mind of a woman. There are multiple stories starting off from the main story, plenty of segues, colourful characters to distract you, in addition to the characters and their quirks. It has to be said that the characters seem to suffer from some sort of attention deficit disorder. However, if you have ever grown up or experienced an Asian joint family, you’ll know what I mean. 

If you’re wondering why I said the book seems like the mind of woman it is because it is multitasking all the time. The author and the characters are in situations, but thinking of random and connected things at the same time. I got the sense that the characters’ bodies and minds were often in different tangents and I feel that this often happens with women more often than it does with men. Women are thinking of so many different things at once and still manage to stay sharp and coherent during conversations. I still wonder how.

At the heart of this delightful book is the story of two young women and their history. One of them is chasing her past, while the other is in blissful ignorance about it. The book was worth reading just to discover their histories. I had known about the Armenian genocide of 1915–1917 and Turkey’s refusal to acknowledge it. Sadly, not many people know about this because it doesn’t occupy popular history as much as the Holocaust does. As readers, I would advise you brush up on the Turkish and Armenian history post the Ottoman Empire. Not only is it fascinating, you’ll get interesting points of view, for example, the Janissaries’ Paradox.

In a book about women by a woman, you will learn about the oppression that happens to women. Despite Istanbul’s cosmopolitanism, one gets a glimpse of the old-school ways – and I don’t just mean male oppression, but ancient magic as well. By the end, almost all the characters will be your favourites because there is no villain here. Or is there? (We did mention that there was a genocide, didn’t we. [Winky face]) 

I would recommend this book as a one-time read. (I gave it three stars on Goodreads.) I would also recommend looking up the author’s other works. She’s got impressive credentials and she writes her books in English as well as Turkish. In addition, she makes wonderful arguments about reading in the book. That was enough to win me over.

Book review: On Writing – A Memoir of a Life Well Lived and Stories Well Told

The only thing I had known about Stephen King in my 26 years on God’s green earth is that he has a penchant for shocking his readers. I had mostly associated him with horror stories, only to be proven wrong when I recently came to know (or rediscovered this fact) that he had written The Shawshank Redemption. That movie was anything, but terrifying. So, I have resolved to read the tons of Stephen King books (including Carrie) that my brother has accumulated over the years.

Now, on to the book I am reviewing here. The first time I read about Stephen King’s memoir On Writing was through a review in The Hindu’s Young World. The book was highly recommended for all aspiring writers. I think I was 11 or 12 years old at that time and had just started publishing my stories in the school magazine. Buoyed by the review, I kept on writing and resolved to buy the book whenever I had the means.

It has been more than a decade since then and I finally have the book. It was gifted by a friend and is, undoubtedly, one of the best books I own. King is frank and does not bullshit. He says that writing is hard work and needs persistence, something I discovered on my own as well. King does not harp on his successes, but focuses on how the hardships he faced – including a brush with death – shaped his writing. It was endearing to read how success is not about some mantras, but struggling again and again.

The focus of his book is firmly on two things – the process of writing and the support of his wife, Tabitha. King worships her, and this is evident throughout the book. One of the interesting things I learned was how he writes books keeping Tabitha’s likes as a reader in mind. The term King uses is “Ideal Reader”. Before Tabitha, it was his mother who encouraged him (even paid for his works). King asks writers to write keeping their IRs in mind – what would make them laugh hard, what would cause them to be surprised and shocked, and importantly, would they love the book/story. This was enlightening. Until now, I was writing keeping my “audience” in mind – a faceless and generic group of people with different likes and dislikes. With such a vast group, one obviously cannot cater to all sensibilities, and may, therefore, end up failing. I am now going to write keeping my own IR in mind – someone whose likes and dislikes I know very well and someone who will laugh out loud when they read my works, not someone who would just nod appreciatively. The latter would do nothing to help me improve my writing. My IR should be my biggest fan, worst critic, and muse. It’s just a matter of finding them! :)

Honestly, this book is very frank about the success King has seen. It did not come in a day, but it can go away with one bad story. I usually do not like memoirs because they tend to sugar-coat, make people appear grandiose, and skip over the harsher life events. King does not pretend to be some demi-god. He says that his ideas have appeared doing the most mundane things, and as an amateur writer, I agree with that. The brain is not constantly churning bestseller ideas, but it is the writer’s job to translate their ideas into work they and their IR would be proud of. 

 I would recommend this book to everyone, whether they plan to write or not. I am not one to judge memoirs because I have rarely read them, but it is the best I have read. Hopefully, you will agree with me. If not, you will at least love his writing style – it is conversational and feels like you are talking to a friend. Now if that isn’t motivation enough to read, I don’t know what is!

First published in Metro Reader.