The current debate over whether to accept Syrian refugees has echoes of a different time when another wave of people were leaving a Mediterranean country. They were seen by some Americans as being so alien in religion, culture, education, politics and law, that they could never be assimilated. They were even suspected of ties to terrorism. These were the Italians.
In the previous chapters that we had read, Pamuk focuses on the melancholy of the city, as a whole. In chapters 33 and 34, he seems to open up and allow the reader to see the personal melancholy that radiates from himself. Pamuk seems to go back and forth on his opinion of himself and his true nature. He once mentions that he thinks that everyone looking at him hated him and that they had every right to do so. It seems to me like Pamuk is allowing the city to take him under and the melancholy of the city is being reflected through his own confusion and anxiety of sorts. The city seems to be split into various parts of East and West and like it can’t make its mind up between growing into something new or maintaining the essence of its own true nature.
Overall, this book was utterly beautiful and gave the reader insight as to the mysterious air about Istanbul.
The last two chapters of the book do not fall too far from the melancholy of earlier pages. Pamuk opens his soul to the city as to absorb fully its intense nebulous dim and rescue his own self and passion for art through his love for the city. His journey while on board of Kocatas transports him to Eastern Istanbul, as he feels it. It’s a sweet picture of the city as as much of a gift to the reader as it is to himself, in his search for something – as he acknowledges int he last chapter of the book – he was wanting.
This beautiful image of an “unspoiled East” is quickly confronted with his quarrels with his mother and her misfortunes, as well. One can sense that she, in her own way, wants to protect him from hardships and shame as a painter. Fortunately, his daily immersions in the city’s “darkness” is a powerful dosage of artistry and feelings Pamuk needed to convert his pains and joys into this beautiful literary masterpiece.
After Pamuk, I admire Istanbul; his Istanbul.
Where Does It Hurt, O City of Light
Upon receiving the news from Paris, I did what I often do in moments of crisis. I turned off the TV — and sat with the grief. I turned, as I often do, to poetry, nature, scripture, and prayer. I retreated to solitude, leaving time for sorrow to sit with me before having to answer the inevitable crush of media speculation.
In those early hours there is no real analysis, only a parroting of ideological perspectives. I find it more fully human to welcome grief, and connect with the humanity of those for whom these tragedies are even more personal, more intimately destructive.
The poem that I turned to was yet again from the amazing Somali-British poet, Warsan Shire:
later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
where does it hurt?
Everywhere, everywhere. Everybody hurts. It hurts everywhere.
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In our readings for Monday, Pamuk focuses on the collective melancholy of Istanbul which he describes as “huzun”. In chapters 33 and 34 he describes the impact on huzun on himself and the ways in which the city and his social circles direct him to feel his own sense of huzun or melancholy that is reflective of the city around him.
He describes how Istanbul is caught up in an in betweenness of the past and present, the old and the new, the East and the West. Pamuk himself feels similar to this, shifting from different groups of friends with no real solid identity, all the time feeling shameful because he is not remaining true to himself and his identity. He seems to be lost between different spheres of life, only finding temporary comfort when he engrosses himself in one of these spheres.
He clearly finds some sort of comfort or connection with this city and past but at the same time you get the sense that there is also tension between the identity he is born into and the idealized identity that he wishes to have. In many ways his entire analysis of himself at this time and the city of Istanbul are parallels of loss, confusion, melancholy, and a certain bitter sweetness that makes him still feel connected to Istanbul. Combined with this bitter sweetness is a sort of authenticity that Pamuk seems reluctant to let go of.
To sum up what we discussed in class:
Anthrosource is a good search engine to look for some of the most up to date publications in different anthropological journals. You might want to use this site to search a topic then look for the titles in the search engine at Alden.
Annual Reviews of Anthropology
A journal that publishes reviews of literatures. The articles are great maps for navigating the current contributions on a specific topic or place.
Cultural Anthropology journal. I mentioned this a few classes back. In addition to the hot spots that we read in class, the journal is searchable by topic or region.
Open Anthropology is a new initiative by the American Anthropological Association that compiles articles from various anthropology journals (often cutting across subfields) organized around specific themes. Since this is a new initiative, unfortunately, there are not many thematic issues (and none that applies to our course) but this is useful in general for research purposes for other anthro courses.
The final true and tried strategy is tracing the bibliography of an author that you like. Look at their references cited and pick the titles that seem useful for your project.
I thought that in both the chapter readings and the article, that, at different levels, both romanticized the past. Istanbul, and Turkey in general, has not always had a glorious past, yes at one point it was a major economic capital for a large portion of the world, but there has also been extreme social unrest in the country as well, not to mention the capital has been tossed around from conqueror to conqueror many times over again. So I thought that it was interesting how sometimes, people tend to pick the good parts of the past to reminisce, and in this case, to fight for. The Istanbul chapters made me sad, the entire book seems to be filled with melancholy, poor Istanbul.