Beginning with the death of Zarif Effendi, the artist who inlaid gold on the king's illustrations, Orhan Pamuk draws the reader into the world of a Turkey, a deep, culturally colored Istanbul. It is the mysterious world of miniaturists; the blind devotion and profound domination of Islam in Turkey; the rekindled love fire between Siyah and Shekure; the plots, the decision to murder is full of barbaric coming from the villain whose true identity is revealed only in the final chapters of the book...
More than a master detective novel in which the author leaves no gaps in the characters' reasoning and actions, "My Name is Red" is also a historical novel, engraved with painting that is not only a period in Turkish painting history, but also a means for that painting to resound with sobs at the encroachment of Western painting. The creation and worship of idols (i.e. images of gods in human form) is forbidden in the teachings of Islam and the Koran. The creation and worship of idols (i.e. images of gods in human form) is forbidden in the teachings of Islam and the Koran. Due to this regulation, Turkish painting is never allowed to depict the image the artist sees truthfully, but all that appears in the paintings of the miniaturists is only conventions, drawn according to the patterns handed down from the gurus who preceded them, and these patterns are seen as defining the image of Allah, what Allah sees and wants man to see in the world. These handed down models are not creative, but rather painting models heavily influenced by Chinese painting as a result of the Mongol conquest of Turkey.
Painting is like Western painting for Turkish painters who are loyal to the Koran, to Islamic teachings, as is typical of Master Osman, in that it follows the law of perspective and realistically depicts what the artist paints. The priests see before them a blasphemy of the gods, a blasphemy of religion, an act of "evil religion," because for them, if the law is applied from far and near, if God is far away, he must draw small, sometimes as small as a dog, that is blasphemy, disrespect to the saint who created this world. In Turkey at the time, the development and formation of a new "style" of painting was also unacceptable, because "style" was seen as an expression of inequality. It is an imperfection of the painter, and it is not the image that God wishes for man to see through his memory preserved in the hand and mind of the miniaturist. The Siyah, Zeytin, Kelebek, Leylek, Zarif, and even Osman, Enishte had to grapple with the Taoist traditions, their seemingly wavering absolute beliefs in the teachings of the Koran, and the King's desire for an illustrated book in the style of Western painters, which for most of them is an act of Satan against the "good" and "religious." They must balance on a rope on which neither side is the two shores they want to lean on: loyal to the faded and uncreative conventional painting, so that their name and the value of the works they create will eventually fade into obscurity, or give up what the Koran teaches, imitate the realistic depiction of Westerners in order to find for themselves the so-called style, is the artist's personality, only to realize that they can never reach the level.
Readers can easily compare "My Name is Red" to another classic detective novel because it is also about a detective story set against a colorful historical, religious, and cultural backdrop. "The Name of the Rose" by Umberto Eco, an Italian philosopher (the titles of both books begin with the word "name"). All comparisons, however, are meaningless to me because "My Name Is Red" takes place in a different context, with a cultural and historical space blending East-West and absolute dominance of Islamic teachings. It is beautiful in its own right, in the way that the image of a mystical East in the face of Western civilization's irresistible influence conjures up for us. It is as attractive and beautiful as other European countries in terms of history and the depth of Turkish culture. It is beautiful because it is written by someone who studied architecture before becoming a writer (and as a result, the history of Turkish painting comes to life, so colorfully, in addition to profound, profound parables), and who is now a Nobel Prize winner in literature.
What more could a book need when "My Name is Red" is the full and graceful convergence of a detective story in the context of a country's history, tradition, culture, and painting? the meeting point of East and West, of a religion imbued with Islam's profound influence? And this is a truly wonderful book, because it not only tells a murder investigation story, but it also evokes a cultural spatial dimension, a whole sky, a stage the impending decline of Turkish painting in particular and Islamic painting in general, and it shows readers, both East and West, his love and honor for his motherland. dear, for the country that raised him (despite the fact that he and the Turkish government had many disagreements that put him in danger of prosecution; He now lives and works in the United States), for the Islamic civilization - a civilization with positive values that, unfortunately, has been prejudiced, transformed into evil, and branded "terrorism" due to the dizzying development of the speed of information transmission, as well as the innocence and (so-called) "dogs' support" of a sizable portion of the recipients of the news.
This is a book that should be read again and again, not only because of the hidden parables and the rich history and culture that must be pondered for a long time, analyzed, and dissected to be fully understood, but also because of the spirit and spatial dimension that it evokes - a magnificent and magnificent Turkish space that also hides in it the skandhas and deep colors; thousands of years of concern of art makers and painters amid a context deeply influenced by religion