By A.J. Griffiths-Jones
I confess, I’m a total bookworm. In a typical week you can find me with three types of literature on the go, a paperback, an e-book and an audiobook. I digest books like most people breathe air and can’t imagine a life without my favourite classics on the bookshelves in my home.
My family are all avid readers, and I can remember a visit by our mobile library being the highlight of the week when I was younger. It’s not just that you can lose yourself in another world by digesting books, you can learn so much too.
As an author of both fiction and non-fiction, I often find myself delving into the most unusual publications and I’m genuinely fascinated in the methodology of other writers, how they mould their characters and stories while weaving elements of truth and historical events into their tales.
One author who does both so well is Iranian author Kader Abdolah. Two of his books that left me astounded were The House of the Mosque and The King, the former being a magical insight into the workings of a family with close religious ties, the latter a learning curve about Persian history and politics.
Naturally, having relocated to Turkiye three years ago, I am keen to discover more Turkish authors, and the beginning of my journey has been a real eye-opener.
A fellow book club member here in Akbuk recently introduced me to A Strangeness In My Mind by Orhan Pamuk, one of the country’s most prolific writers. The story takes place over several decades and focuses on the life of boza seller Mevlut, a man who dreams of becoming rich but never seems to have luck on his side.
Through Mevlut’s eyes we are treated to a colourful and vivid depiction of the changes in Istanbul over the past fifty years. If, like me, you had never heard of boza, you’re in for a treat with this book.
A traditional mildly alcoholic Turkish drink, boza is a culture unto itself, with the street vendors an integral part of city life, and the way that Pamuk has intertwined the plight of Mevlut, who scratches a living in a time of upheaval and political turbulence, is an absolute triumph.
An English author who has spent many years travelling and falling in love with Turkiye is Barbara Nadel. Born in London’s East End, Nadel is most famous for her Detective Ikmen series set in Istanbul, a total of twenty-six books. These have now been dramatised by the BBC, entitled The Turkish Detective, and are proving to be a great success.
As a full-time writer I yearn to see my books reaching a wider circle of readers around the world, and it is with a great sense of achievement that I will see one of my own crime thrillers translated into Turkish later this year.
Originally inspired by an incident I witnessed at Istanbul airport, Black Sparrow is set in London and Paris, following the paths of two passengers with identical suitcases who accidentally pick up the wrong luggage from the carousel.
As the story unfolds, the reader will discover that both have very different agendas, setting in motion a deadly game of cat and mouse.
Hopefully native Turkish bibliophiles will love my work as much as I am appreciating the great writing talent of my newly adopted home country’s authors.
I like to think of myself as a humble wordsmith still honing my craft, and for my novels to sit alongside Turkish literary greats may be a pipe dream, but I can’t wait for that fuzzy feeling a writer experiences when spotting a reader engrossed in their novel unaware of the person who penned the book looking on with a secret smile.