At once a fiendishly devious mystery, a beguiling love story, and a brilliant symposium on the power of art, My Name Is Red is a transporting tale set amid the splendor and religious intrigue of sixteenth-century Istanbul, from one of the most prominent contemporary Turkish writers. The Sultan has commissioned a cadre of the most acclaimed artists in the land to create a great book celebrating the glories of his realm. Their task: to illuminate the work in the European style. But because figurative art can be deemed an affront to Islam, this commission is a dangerous proposition indeed. The ruling elite therefore mustn’t know the full scope or nature of the project, and panic erupts when one of the chosen miniaturists disappears. The only clue to the mystery–or crime? –lies in the half-finished illuminations themselves. Part fantasy and part philosophical puzzle, My Name is Red is a kaleidoscopic journey to the intersection of art, religion, love, sex and power. Translated from the Turkish by Erda M Göknar
"Essentially a kind of detective story told from about 20 different perspectives, set in the world of miniaturist painters in Istanbul during the zenith of the Ottoman Empire. It begins with a corpse who tells you how he'd just been murdered (without telling you who muredered him) and then it shifts perspectives to the main character who is telling you about the woman he loves, then to a painted dog who is mocking the people who are staring at him, then to the murderer who doesn't reveal his name etc., etc., eventually to a painted tree, a gold coin, a painted horse, satan, death, the beloved of the main character, her children, three painters, their master, a palace official, etc. Interspersed throughout are intoxicating discussions about art and artistic theory (tradition v. innovation, essence v. vision, mimesis v. interpretation, among others), the influence of religion in art (and vice versa), of literature in art, fables of honor, love, and courage, as well as perhaps the most physically painful scene I've ever read. Obviously the difficulty in telling the story like this is keeping each perspective distinct and consistent, and I think Pamuk achieves this quite well. Telling the story this way certainly heightens the suspense and intrigue, and truly leaves one guessing until the end (especially when not all narrators are trustworthy). The love story and events related to it were cheesily sentimental, however; I often felt thrust into the middle of a romantic comedy, which certainly detracted from the solemn discussions of art and artistic theory, which are what make the book, in my opinion."
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Brian (4 out of 5 stars)