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Before I read Orhan Pamuk's Istanbul several of my friends told me how much fun they had visiting the city with its historical palaces and fabulous mosques. I wanted to visit the street markets and the seasides. I've read enough history about Byzantium and the Ottomans to whet my interest in the ruins of empires gone by.

But Pamuk has painted such a grim, dirty, and poor city that it left me wondering if my friends visited the same town. Dirt and crumbling mansions. Crashing pollution. Fires. Hobos and homeless. Antiquated buildings and transportation. Old ferries. Old men in skull caps and chattering aunties. Civic corruption. My goodness. This could be Naples. Or Detroit.

It seems the national passion is melancholy. Too much east and not enough west. Maybe, too much crappy west and not enough appreciation of east.

Is this a place I want to visit?

Maybe.

There is so much humour and self loathing in the book to warrant a second look. As if maybe Pamuk is making a little fun at himself.

It is certainly well worth it to read about Turkish poets and novelists and historians. About how French writers and artists viewed the city from the vantage point of the 19th century. And about how Pamuk traces his own development as a writer.

Pamuk and I are different type of people, although we are similar in age. He drastically tried to leave his identity as a middle class Istanbulu (I love that word) to blossom as a writer. Like him as a teenager I roamed the streets and went for walks that lasted for hours. For him it meant becoming a writer. For me it meant becoming nothing. I fell under the spell of a turn of the century novel called The Man Without Qualities. It struck me that abandoning the preconceptions of who I was or who I ought to be gave me the freedom to discover much more about life.

Sans judgements. Sans status. Sans expectations.

I became a carpenter, an accountant, a forensic auditor, a retailer, a historian, an actor. Anything and nothing. I stopped writing when I stopped having anything of meaning to say. In that nothingness came freedom.

I wonder if becoming a writer has given Pamuk freedom. I wonder if he has forgiven his father for being a lecher. ( )

Neither a guidebook nor a travel memoir, but a dual biography of the author and the city. How their identities entwined, even defined each other. A good read, despite being repetitive. ( )

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This turned out to be more of a memoir than I was expecting. I skipped around to the Istanbul parts which I really enjoyed. I also found it to be very well written so I have made it a point to get a few fiction titles by this author.

An interesting mix of his memories, childhood and the city. The theme of Melancholy is carried thorough the book. He gives his thoughts on authors from Istanbul, architecture, and art. ( )

I bought this book in Ankara just after leaving Istanbul, where I'd stayed for five days. I'd like to start by saying that if you are traveling to Istanbul and want to find out something about it, you should read any other book instead. This is not a book about a city, it's a book about a mood — Orhan Pamuk's favorite mood, melancholy, which he projects onto everything and everyone around him, and which sustains him as an artist. The Istanbul seen through Pamuk's loving but perpetually disappointed eyes is not the Istanbul that exists in the world. Where he sees it as "poor, shabby, and isolated," I found it vibrant, sparkling, and cosmopolitan. To Pamuk, "the city speaks of defeat, destruction, deprivation, melancholy and poverty"; to me, it spoke of resilience, regrowth, abundance and commerce. I want to go back, to see more facets of its ever-varied complexity. Pamuk never left, and seems committed to seeing only the Istanbul of his deliciously sad inner eye. Of course I'm not saying that Pamuk is wrong in seeing the city the way he does. But certainly, and obviously to anyone else but Pamuk, I'm sure, Pamuk's way is not the only way to see it.

I haven't read any of Pamuk's other prizewinning work, but I can well imagine that this book has particular value to those who have spent many immersive hours in his fiction. Approach it as its subtitle suggests: not as memories of the city, but as memories AND the city, and especially as a somewhat dreamlike portrait of Pamuk's own self, as reflected in his gloomily dimmed concept of his urban world. ( )

Author Orhan Pamuk writes of his city, Istanbul, where he has lived all his life in this memoir-history-personal history blend.

Reading this book was like taking a meandering walk through the city while Pamuk reflected on his own life in it, moving tangentially from one point to another to discuss his family, the Bosphorus, Istanbul as reflected through the western gaze, the beauty of poor neighborhoods. Pamuk himself refers to the symmetry of it, and there is a sort of symmetry and folding in on itself as some of the topics get repeated in slightly different ways. His love for the city is palpable, even while the story is shot through with melancholy. It was often hard for me to follow, in part because of my lack of knowledge, but also because of his habit of writing very long lists and sentences, using multiple semicolons. The audio, read by John Lee, helped me along, especially because I could hear the pronunciation of unfamiliar locations. ( )

Over my head. I didn't understand much of anything until the last 100 pages, and from then on, I enjoyed myself reading it. I spent a weekend in Istanbul, and thought I'd educate myself by reading this text once I returned to Rome. I didn't start it for more than six months after that trip to Istanbul, and having spent the entirety of my trip in tourist-land, most of this book, the parts about Istanbul itself, was lost on me. However, when it turned to Pamuk himself, to his struggles with love and university studies, I finally found something to relate to. ( )

A book to return to. Istanbul is Pamuk's memoir,intertwined with stories about Western depictions of the city--painters and writers--and Istanbul's writers and poets. The idea is that his story is impossible to separate from Istanbul's, and to understand it you must also understand the city's story.

The book is also full of photos--some of Pamuk and his family, many of the city--it reminds me a bit of the photos in Sebald's books--somehow elusive and evocative at the same time.

I wish I'd read it with a map of Istanbul at my side, and perhaps some clue how to pronounce Turkish names (as this might make me able to recall the names!). ( )

Oh, what a delight. One gets to spend time with Pamuk and with his city. Any interest whatsoever in the Byzantine Empire, the Ottoman Empire, or Istanbul today, then this is a must read. ( )

Estambul es un retrato, en ocasiones panorámico y en otras íntimo y personal, de una de las ciudades más fascinantes de la Europa que mira a Asia. Pero es también una autobiografía, la del propio Orhan Pamuk. La historia da comienzo con el capítulo de su infancia, donde Pamuk nos habla sobre su excéntrica familia y su vida en un polvoriento apartamento –«los apartamentos Pamuk», así los denomina– en el centro de la ciudad. El autor recuerda que fue en aquellos días lejanos cuando tomó conciencia de que le había tocado vivir en un espacio plagado de melancolía: residente de un lugar que arrastra un pasado glorioso y que intenta hacerse un hueco en la «modernidad». Viejos y hermosos edificios en ruinas, estatuas valiosas y mutantes, villas fantasmagóricas y callejuelas secretas donde, por encima de todo, destaca el terapéutico Bósforo, que en la memoria del narrador es vida, salud y felicidad. Esta elegía sirve para que el autor introduzca a pintores, escritores y célebres asesinos, a través de cuyos ojos el narrador describe la ciudad. Hermoso retrato de una ciudad y una vida, ambas fascinantes por igual

Pamuk tells us about his memories of the Istanbul of his youth and of growing up in this city that formed him and that is now lost. He describes watching in the 50s and 60s with friends the fires of the ancient wooden houses burning down with a „pleasurable spiritual ache“ that had its root, he says, in the guilt and loss they felt at the destruction of the great Ottoman culture „we were unprepared to inherit in our frenzy to turn Istanbul into a pale, poor, second-class imitation of a Western city.“ He prefaces the book with a quote by Ahmet Rasim: ‘The beauty of a landscape resides in its melancholy’. This immediately reveals the ambiguity of this melancholy for which the Turkish word is hüzün and which is neither as Pamuk explains a solitary melancholy nor the same as tristesse but a shared melancholy a melancholy peculiar to the Istanbul of his youth (may one still encounter it today in neglected side-streets?), the hüzün „we absorb with pride and share as a community.“ Pamuk says - rightly I think - that the landscape painters of the Romantic in particular wanted to awake in the viewer the same feelings that the landscape evoked in the artist. So looking at Istanbul’s streets in the winter evening light, the little shops, the ferries belching their smoke, the ruins, the old falling-down mansions, … evokes „the hüzün in which we see ourselves reflected, the hüzün we absorb with pride and share as a community.“ But then again, as he says, describing the city’s essence says more about „our own states of mind: The city has no centre other than ourselves.“ Pamuk would not have become the writer he is had he grown up in any other place. (II-18) ( )

editorial sudamericana

...come è strano e difficile per me Pamuk. Mi piace e non mi piace. Anche questo libro - bellissimo - non mi ha del tutto soddisfatto. C'è un distacco nella passione, una freddezza nell'amore che faccio fatica a superare mentre lo leggo. Poi, quando chiudo il libro e le parole decantano, la bellezza malinconica e la verità delle vite (tutte) abbarbicate alle radici - casuali ma tenaci - scorrono libere
[audiolibro] ( )

This is an interesting read! When I studied Hagia Sophia in school, its beauty imprinted my heart! Turkey has always been a mystical land of the Great Eastern Culture and symbolized to me Constantinople's conquests and his architectural vision that made Istanbul one of the best cities during the Roman Empire.
The cover art is sheer beauty! The warm, fuzzy yellow catches the eye first and immediately touches the heart. This is my first Orhan Pamuk book and I am in total awe of this wonderful writer. His melancholic verses on his city and childhood, dreams and magic, walks through the city made me peep into my childhood memories and all those fascinating walks through the by-lanes of Mumbai. Every word of his resonated with my memories of Mumbai- the city I love so much. Perhaps, sometimes its difficult to understand how people fall in love with cultures or cities or Urban Spaces(such an architectural term I use here!), however, people with passion for art and history and especially, ones who dream endlessly easily move through stone-walls and crumbling facades to glass cubes of uncomfortable realities!
Every moment I read through the writer's Bosphorus walks, those historical references drove me into a parallel world of my own, making me travel that era! When he writes about the river's silent witness to centuries of change, it takes me back to Mumbai's history. How mesmerising it is that another city's history and culture ignited awe and pride in my heart!
Somewhere he writes- If the city speaks of defeat, destruction, deprivation, melancholy and poverty, the Bosphorus sings of life, pleasure and happiness. Istanbul draws its strength from the Bosphorus.
When I read his poetic verses on the Bosphorus, I couldn't help but imagine the Ganges or Yamuna and how those ancient cities that existed by these rivers now just cease to invoke those memories! In a way, these cities have failed the rivers and the great civilizations they carried within themselves!
Think of people walking by everyday, talking, celebrating life by the rivers where now the only remnants are the ruins, those crumbling walls, forgotten history, moss and overgrown grass! Rome still has the colosseum and even Istanbul has the Hagia Sophia, but what does my city preserve? Where is that city from my dreams? The more I read, the harder it is to search! ( )

Mr. Pamuk is far more interested in Istanbul, and in his own life, than I am. Yet the excellent writing held me and kept me turning the pages. It's sentimental mood appeal to me. He tells the story of his childhood, mingled with the story of Istanbul, a city he clearly loves. He gives us a insider view of this most intriguing city, which I visited a few years ago. And the many photographs greatly enhance the book and bring a concreteness to the story. I wish there'd also been a map!

My main problem with this book can be summed up by the author's assertion on Page 295 that “What is important for a memoirist is not the factual accuracy of the account, but its symmetry.” Was he really so aware as a child as he paints himself to be?

The book is dated; the picture it paints of Turkey isn't the Turkey of today. But it's still worth the read for its portrayal of a city in transition, straddling east and west as (perhaps) only Istanbul can. ( )

This book sticks in my craw. Took it with me on a bus tour of Turkey. Certainly elegant and learned but its main effect was to help me sleep on the bus. Much talk of 'huzun', the melancholy that pervades Istanbul according to Pamuk. Well, many other places seem a lot more melancholy to me; Istanbul is vibrant and strikes me that way every time I visit (first time was 1972, not long after Pamuk's overcast youth). We spend much time in the company of various Turkish intellectuals and some minor Western ones such as Gautier. How few Turkish intellectuals i have ever heard of; oddly enough Pamuk is just about the only one. All very elegant and closely observed and cleverly referenced, but it had the same effect on me when I picked the book up again 6 months later. Was equally unable to get through "My Name is Red".
Incidentally, Library thing has the title wrong: it's "Memories OF A City", perhaps that's the U.S.version. ( )

Going to read this again when/If i ever go to istanbul. Cultural History, West/Orient, Memoirs etc. ( )

Hüzün; weemoed, een nostalgisch gevoel van verlies en verval. Orhan Pamuk kenschetst er Istanbul en haar bewoners mee, en tevens zichzelf. Istanbul is voor hem de stad van de immer aanwezige Bosporus, maar vóór alles de stad van de vergane glorie. Ooit het bijzondere Constantinopel, later opgesloten tussen de beeldvorming van het valse verwesterde ideaal van Atatürk en het even zozeer vals romantische westerse ideaalbeeld van de sultans en de serail.

Pamuk benadrukt het gevoel nog eens door een enorme hoeveelheid oude zwart-wit foto's die niet het diepe blauw van de magnifieke Bosporus toont, maar het grauwe van de winterdag, de gehaaste voetgangers over de bruggen van de stad. De vervallen buurten, zwervend door de coulissen van de stad, weg van de toeristische attracties als de Hagia Sophia, het Topkapi paleis of het Rumelihisari. Pamuk beschrijft Istanbul als stad en dorp tegelijk.

De stad wordt gebruikt als decor voor de opgroeiende Orhan, die zich een verdwaald buitenbeentje voelt in een wereld van rijkdom in verval, zowel persoonlijk als sociaal. Hij mag zich dan wel 'displaced person' voelen, maar Istanbul is tegelijkertijd de enige plek die hij wil kennen en koesteren. Door de verwevenheid met de stad is hij ook verweven met het gevoel van hüzün in zijn eigen innerlijk. De gebeurtenissen in zijn familie zijn als het pars pro toto voor de hele leefgemeenschap. Disfunctioneel maar warm, cultureel rijk en verarmd, verstrengeld in een dans door de essentie van de stad.

Het boek zit vol met lange, meanderende zinnen die de continue gedachtestroom van Pamuk afzetten tegen het door hem gepercipieerde, langzame verval van Istanbul. Uit het boek komt een merkwaardige dichotomie van ontworteling en verknoping naar voren. Orhan Pamuk doet aan zelfonderzoek op dezelfde manier waarop hij Istanbul onderzoekt. Soms lijkt hij in een spagaat te geraken: een voorbeeld daarvan is zijn beschrijving van de Franse schrijvers en kunstenaars uit de 19e eeuw die Istanbul probeerden te vangen in hun reisverhalen en schilderijen. Ze zijn een groot voorbeeld voor hem, maar ontlokken ook kritiek vanwege hun stereotiepe beelden van Oosterse faux romantiek.

Het boek weet de atmosfeer die Pamuk kiest feilloos over te brengen op de lezer. Het is een boeiende slingertocht, afwisselend door Istanbul en door het hoofd van de schrijver. Het is daarmee ook een boek vol stille, niet-opdringerige reflectie die telkens weer naar het volgende hoofdstuk doet verlangen. Een boek dat, als je het uiteindelijk voor de laatste keer sluit, je achterlaat met een gevoel van weemoed: de weemoed van Orhan Pamuk en zijn Istanbul, en de weemoed dat zijn verhaal bij de laatste pagina toch echt is afgelopen. ( )

This is a memoire of a city and a memoire of someone growing up in the city and the effect the city had on him and on all his fellow citizens.
Orham Pamuk is a noted Turkish author and he writes beautifully.
He goes over the history of Istanbul and the melancholy that inflicts it, the ruins and memories of an empire lost.
I don't know how current the description is, since it was published 10 years ago, but it was a very interesting evocation of time and place as the author was growing up.
The book has many black and white photos of old time Istanbul. ( )

Joy's review: an interesting memoir of Orhan Pamuk and a love letter to the city he has lived in his entire life. He reflects on the photography and history on slums and shipping on commerce and art of Istanbul between and within stories of his family's declining fortunes and his parent's volatile marriage. I'd say it's a must read if you're visiting that part of the world. ( )

Great impression of Istanbul and its 'hüzün'. Especially, chapter 35 'First love' is simply moving. ( )

Took me forever to read, but the author's writing was addicting, in small doses. The melancholy of living among the ruins of a lost empire was well portrayed, as was the angst of a young man. ( )

This book is a memoir of Istanbul from Orhan Pamuk's perspective. This book is so thorough that I used it when planning a trip to Istanbul. I highly recommend it to anyone traveling to Istanbul or those who want a deep understanding of the city and its citizens. ( )