A Strangeness in My Mind Read online

  ALSO BY ORHAN PAMUK

  The Innocence of Objects

  The Naïve and the Sentimental Novelist

  The Museum of Innocence

  Other Colors

  Istanbul

  Snow

  My Name Is Red

  The New Life

  The Black Book

  The White Castle

  Silent House

  Being the Adventures and Dreams of Mevlut Karataş, a Seller of Boza, and of His Friends, and Also a Portrait of Life in Istanbul Between 1969 and 2012 from Many Different Points of View

  THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK

  PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF

  AND ALFRED A. KNOPF CANADA

  Copyright © 2015 by Orhan Pamuk

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York, and in Canada by Alfred A. Knopf Canada, a division of Penguin Random House Ltd., Toronto. Originally published in Turkey as Kafamda Bir Tuhaflik by Yapı Kredi Yayinlari, Istanbul, in 2013. Copyright © 2013 by Orhan Pamuk. This translation originally published in hardcover in Great Britain by Faber and Faber Ltd, London, in 2015.

  www.aaknopf.com

  www.penguinrandomhouse.ca

  Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC. Knopf Canada and colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House Ltd.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Pamuk, Orhan, [date] [Kafamda bir tuhaflik. English]

  A strangeness in my mind : being the adventures and dreams of Mevlut Karataş, a seller of boza, and of his friends, and also a portrait of life in Istanbul between 1969 and 2012 from many different points of view : a novel / Orhan Pamuk.—First edition. pages cm

  ISBN 978-0-307-70029-2 eBook ISBN 978-1-101-87583-4

  1. Street vendors—Turkey—Istanbul—Fiction. 2. Istanbul (Turkey)— Social life and customs—Fiction. 3. Istanbul (Turkey)—Social conditions— Fiction. I. Title.

  PL248.P34K3513 2015 894′.3533—dc23 2015006769

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Pamuk, Orhan, [date] [Kafamda bir tuhaflik. English]

  A strangeness in my mind / Orhan Pamuk ; translated from the Turkish by Ekin Oklap.

  Translation of: Kafamda bir tuhaflik. Issued in print and electronic formats.

  ISBN 978-0-307-36126-4 eBook ISBN 978-0-307-36128-8

  1. Street vendors—Turkey—Istanbul—Fiction. 2. Istanbul (Turkey)—Social life and customs—Fiction. 3. Istanbul (Turkey)—Social conditions—Fiction. I. Oklap, Ekin, translator. II. Title. III. Title: Kafamda bir tuhaflik. English.

  PL248.P34K3513 2015 894.3533 C2015-903373-X

  eBook ISBN 9781101875834

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Photograph on this page by Ara Güler

  Cover art by Orhan Pamuk

  Cover design by Chip Kidd

  v4.1

  a

  For Asl

  I had melancholy thoughts…

  a strangeness in my mind,

  A feeling that I was not for that hour,

  Nor for that place.

  —William Wordsworth, The Prelude

  The first man who, having fenced off a plot of land, thought of saying “This is mine” and found people simple enough to believe him was the real founder of civil society.

  — Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Discourse on the Origin and Foundations of Inequality Among Men

  The gulf between the private and public views of our countrymen is evidence of the power of the state.

  —Celâl Salik, Milliyet

  Contents

  Cover

  Also by Orhan Pamuk

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  The Families of Brothers Hasan Aktaş and Mustafa Karataş, Yogurt and Boza Sellers

  PART I · THURSDAY, 17 JUNE 1982

  Mevlut and Rayiha

  Elopement Is a Tricky Business

  PART II · WEDNESDAY, 30 MARCH 1994

  Mevlut, Every Winter Evening for the Last Twenty-Five Years

  Leave the Boza Seller Alone

  PART III · SEPTEMBER 1968–JUNE 1982

  1 Mevlut in the Village

  If This World Could Speak, What Would It Say?

  2 Home

  The Hills at the End of the City

  3 The Enterprising Individual Who Builds a House on Empty Land

  Oh, My Boy, Istanbul Is a Little Scary, Isn’t It?

  4 Mevlut Begins to Work as a Street Vendor

  It’s Not Your Job to Act Superior

  5 Atatürk Boys’ Secondary School

  A Good Education Removes the Barriers Between Rich and Poor

  6 Middle School and Politics

  There’s No School Tomorrow

  7 The Elyazar Cinema

  A Matter of Life and Death

  8 The Height of Duttepe Mosque

  People Actually Live There?

  9 Neriman

  What Makes the City a City

  10 The Consequences of Sticking Communist Posters on Mosques

  God Save the Turks

  11 The War Between Duttepe and Kültepe

  We Don’t Take Sides

  12 How to Marry a Girl from the Village

  My Daughter Is Not for Sale

  13 Mevlut’s Mustache

  The Owner of Unregistered Land

  14 Mevlut Falls in Love

  Only God Could Have Ordained This Chance Encounter

  15 Mevlut Leaves Home

  If You Saw Her on the Street Tomorrow, Would You Recognize Her?

  16 How to Write a Love Letter

  Your Eyes Are Like Ensorcelled Arrows

  17 Mevlut’s Army Days

  Do You Think You’re at Home?

  18 The Military Coup

  The Cemetery of the Industrial Quarter

  19 Mevlut and Rayiha

  Elopement Is a Tricky Business

  PART IV · JUNE 1982–MARCH 1994

  1 Mevlut and Rayiha Get Married

  Only Death Can Tear Us Apart

  2 Mevlut Sells Ice Cream

  The Happiest Days of His Life

  3 Mevlut and Rayiha’s Wedding

  Only Desperate Yogurt Sellers Bother with Boza

  4 Rice with Chickpeas

  Food Tastes Better When It’s Got Some Dirt in It

  5 Mevlut Becomes a Father

  Do Not Get Out of the Van

  6 Samiha Runs Away

  Blood Will Be Shed over This

  7 A Second Daughter

  It Was as If His Life Were Happening to Someone Else

  8 Capitalism and Tradition

  Mevlut’s Blissful Family Life

  9 The Ghaazi Quarter

  We’re Going to Hide in Here

  10 Getting Rid of City Dust

  My God, Where Is All This Filth Coming From?

  11 Girls Who Refuse to Meet Their Suitors

  We Were Just Passing By

  12 In Tarlabaşı

  The Happiest Man in the World

  13 Süleyman Stirs Up Trouble

  Isn’t That What Happened?

  14 Mevlut Finds a New Spot

  I’ll Go and Pick It Up First Thing Tomorrow Morning

  15 The Holy Guide

  I Am the Victim of a Grave Injustice

  16 The Binbom Café

  Let Them Know What You’re Worth

  17 The Café Employees’ Big Swindle

/>   You Stay Out of It

  18 Last Days at the Binbom Café

  Twenty Thousand Sheep

  PART V · MARCH 1994–SEPTEMBER 2002

  1 The Brothers-in-Law Boza Shop

  Doing the Nation Proud

  2 In the Little Shop with Two Women

  Other Meters and Other Families

  3 Ferhat’s Electric Passion

  Let’s Run Away from Here

  4 A Child Is a Sacred Thing

  Maybe You Would Be Happier If I Would Just Die and You Could Marry Samiha

  5 Mevlut Becomes a Parking Lot Guard

  Guilt and Astonishment

  6 After Rayiha

  People Can’t Get Cross with You If You’re Crying

  7 A History of Electric Consumption

  Süleyman Gets into a Tight Spot

  8 Mevlut in the Farthest Neighborhoods

  Dogs Will Bark at Anyone Who Doesn’t Belong Among Us

  9 Bringing Down a Nightclub

  Is It Right?

  10 Mevlut at the Police Station

  I’ve Spent All My Life on These Streets

  11 What Our Heart Intends and What Our Words Intend

  Fatma Continues Her Studies

  12 Fevziye Runs Away

  Let Them Both Kiss My Hand

  13 Mevlut Alone

  You Two Are Made for Each Other

  14 New Quarters, Old Faces

  Is It the Same as This?

  15 Mevlut and Samiha

  I Wrote the Letters to You

  16 Home

  We Were Doing Things Properly

  PART VI · WEDNESDAY, 15 APRIL 2009

  The Twelve-Story Building

  You Have a Right to the City’s Rent

  PART VII · THURSDAY, 25 OCTOBER 2012

  The Form of a City

  I Can Only Meditate When I’m Walking

  Index of Characters

  Chronology

  A Note About the Author

  Reading Group Guide

  The Families of Brothers Hasan Aktaş and Mustafa Karataş, Yogurt and Boza Sellers

  (Married to two sisters, Safiye Atiye)

  * * *

  PART I

  * * *

  Thursday, 17 June 1982

  It is not customary for a younger daughter to be given away while her older sister remains unmarried.

  —İbrahim Şinasi, The Wedding of a Poet

  If there is a lie to be uttered, it will not remain unsaid; if there is blood to be spilled, it will not remain unshed; if you keep your daughter close, she will run away instead.

  —Beyşehir proverb (from the precinct of İmrenler)

  Mevlut and Rayiha

  Elopement Is a Tricky Business

  THIS IS the story of the life and daydreams of Mevlut Karataş, a seller of boza and yogurt. Born in 1957 on the western edge of Asia, in a poor village overlooking a hazy lake in Central Anatolia, he came to Istanbul at the age of twelve, living there, in the capital of the world, for the rest of his life. When he was twenty-five, he returned to the province of his birth, where he eloped with a village girl, a rather strange affair that determined the rest of his days: returning with her to Istanbul, he got married and had two daughters; he took a number of jobs without pause, selling his yogurt, ice cream, and rice in the street and waiting tables. But every evening, without fail, he would wander the streets of Istanbul, selling boza and dreaming strange dreams.

  Our hero Mevlut was tall, of strong yet delicate build, and good-looking. He had a boyish face, light brown hair, and alert, clever eyes, a combination that roused many a tender feeling among women. This boyishness, which Mevlut carried well into his forties, and its effect on women were two of his essential features, and it will be worth my reminding readers of them now and again to help to explain some aspects of the story. As for Mevlut’s optimism and goodwill—which some would call naïveté—of these, there will be no need for reminding, as they will be clear to see throughout. Had my readers actually met Mevlut, as I have, they would agree with the women who found him boyishly handsome and know that I am not exaggerating for effect. In fact, let me take this opportunity to point out that there are no exaggerations anywhere in this book, which is based entirely on a true story; I will narrate some strange events that have come and gone and limit my part to ordering them in such a fashion as to allow my readers to follow and understand them more easily.

  So I will start in the middle, from the day in June 1982 when Mevlut eloped with a girl from the village of Gümüşdere (linked to the Beyşehir district of Konya and neighboring his own village). It was at the wedding of his uncle’s eldest son, Korkut, celebrated in Mecidiyeköy, Istanbul, in 1978, that Mevlut had first caught sight of the girl who would later agree to run away with him. He could scarcely believe that this girl, then only thirteen—a child still—could possibly reciprocate his feelings. She was the little sister of his cousin Korkut’s wife, and she had never even seen Istanbul before that day. Afterward, Mevlut would write her love letters for three years. The girl never replied, but Korkut’s younger brother Süleyman, who delivered Mevlut’s letters, gave Mevlut hope and encouraged him to persevere.

  Now, Süleyman was helping his cousin Mevlut again, this time to take the girl away. Driving his Ford van, Süleyman returned with Mevlut to the village of his childhood. The two cousins had hatched a plan to run away with the girl without being detected. According to the plan, Süleyman would wait in the van at a spot about an hour away from Gümüşdere. Everyone would assume the two lovebirds had gone off to Beyşehir, but Süleyman would drive them north over the mountains and drop them off at the Akşehir train station.

  Mevlut had gone over the plan many times in his head and twice made secret reconnaissance expeditions to crucial locations like the cold fountain, the narrow creek, the wooded hill, and the back garden of the girl’s home. Half an hour before the appointed time, he stopped off at the village cemetery, which was on the way. He turned toward the tombstones and prayed to God for everything to go smoothly. He was loath to admit it, but he didn’t quite trust Süleyman. What if his cousin failed to bring the van to the appointed spot near the fountain? Mevlut tried not to think about it too much; no good could come of these fears now.

  He was wearing the dress trousers and blue shirt he’d bought from a shop in Beyoğlu when he was back in middle school and selling yogurt with his father. His shoes were from the state-owned Sümerbank factory; he’d bought them before doing his military service.

  At nightfall, Mevlut approached the crumbling wall around the white house of Crooked-Necked Abdurrahman, the girl’s father. The window at the back was dark. Mevlut was ten minutes early and anxious to get going. He thought of the old days when people trying to elope got entangled in blood feuds and wound up shot, or when, running away in the dead of night, they lost their way and ended up getting caught. He thought of how embarrassing it was for the boys when girls changed their minds and decided not to run away after all, and he stood up with some trepidation. He told himself that God would protect him.

  The dogs barked. The window lit up for a moment and then went dark again. Mevlut’s heart began to race. He walked toward the house. He heard a rustling among the trees, and then the girl calling out to him in a whisper:

  “Mev-lut!”

  It was a voice full of love, the voice of someone who had read the letters he’d sent during his military service, a trusting voice. Mevlut remembered those letters now, hundreds of them, each written with genuine love and desire; he remembered how he had devoted his entire being to winning over that beautiful girl, and the scenes of happiness he’d conjured in his mind. Now, at last, he’d managed to get the girl. He couldn’t see much, but in that magical night, he drew like a sleepwalker toward the sound of her voice.

  They found each other in the darkness. They held hands without even thinking about it and began to run. But they hadn’t gone ten steps when the dogs started barking again, and, startled, Mevlut lost his bea
rings. He tried to find his way on instinct, but his head was a muddle. In the night, the trees were like walls of concrete looming in and out of view; they dodged them all as in a dream.

  When they reached the end of the footpath, Mevlut made for the hill ahead, as planned. At one point, the narrow, winding path through the rocks and up the hill was so steep that it seemed to reach all the way to the clouded pitch-black sky. They walked hand in hand for about half an hour, climbing without rest until they reached the peak. There, they could see the lights of Gümüşdere and, farther back, the village of Cennetpınar, where Mevlut had been born and raised. Mevlut had taken a circuitous path away from Gümüşdere, partly to avoid leading any pursuers back to his own village, and partly on instinct, in order to thwart any treacherous scheme of Süleyman’s.

  The dogs kept barking as if possessed. Mevlut realized that he was, by now, a stranger to his village, that none of the dogs recognized him anymore. Presently, he heard the sound of a gunshot coming from the direction of Gümüşdere. They checked themselves and continued to walk at the same pace, but when the dogs, who’d gone quiet for a moment, started barking again, they broke into a run down the hill. The leaves and branches scraped their faces, and nettles stuck to their clothes. Mevlut couldn’t see anything in the darkness and feared that they might trip and fall over a rock at any moment, but nothing of the sort happened. He was afraid of the dogs, but he knew that God was looking out for him and Rayiha and that they would have a very happy life in Istanbul.

  They reached the road to Akşehir, out of breath. Mevlut was sure they were on time. All that remained now was for Süleyman to turn up with the van, and then nobody could take Rayiha away from him. Mevlut had begun every letter invoking this girl’s lovely face and her unforgettable eyes, inscribing her beautiful name, Rayiha, with lavish care and desperate abandon at the head of each missive. Now he was so happy at the thought of those feelings that he couldn’t help but quicken his step.

  In that darkness, he could scarcely see the face of the girl he was eloping with. He thought he might at least take hold of her and kiss her, but Rayiha gently rebuffed his attempts with the bundle she was carrying. Mevlut liked that. He decided that it would be better not to touch the person he was to spend the rest of his life with until they were married.