The Bastard of Istanbul is Still My Favorite Book
It became the thing that got me through the exam period
There is a reason The Bastard of Istanbul is my favorite book. Actually, there are several. My latest re-read of this have just solidified everything I love about Bastard, and Elif Shafak's writing.
I came across this book while I was procrastinating on studying for my exams in my first year of undergrad at the Waterstones in the O2 shopping center on Finchley Road seemingly a million years ago (but really it was 2015). I fell in love with the writing, the story, and the characters immediately and it became the thing that got me through the exam period. I read it on the night bus home (the N13 – wow, memories) as a reward for long days at the library. When it was over, my mind was blown and I was so sad that it was over. Not to be left in the miserable throes of Shafak-withdrawal, I inhaled many of her other writings. I have not gotten through her entire catalogue of books only because I worry for myself when I catch up and have to wait an agonizingly long time for her next book.
The Bastard of Istanbul follows two young women, Asya who lives in Istanbul with all of the living female members of her family, and Armanoush who is Armenian-American and eager to understand her family's history and experience of living (and dying) in the Ottoman Empire. Armanoush decides to secretly visit Asya in Istanbul, and they become unlikely friends and conspirators in unearthing their hidden histories.
The residents of the house include Asya's mother, Zeliha, Zeliha's four sisters, Auntie Banu, Auntie Cevriye, Auntie Feride, their mother Gülsüm, and their step-great grandmother, Petite-Ma. All the men in this family have died young, except for Zeliha's brother, who lives in the United States in the hope that he escapes the curse of the young deaths of the Kazancı men.
This is a powerful read about blood family and found family. Asya and Armanoush, both only children, develop a relationship akin to sisterhood, something which I connected with very deeply as an only child, myself. It is also about generational trauma. Armanoush's Armenian family is the most obvious example of this. Her grandmother, Shushan, talks about her father being taken away from her family's home and her own fight to survive the genocidal ordeal. Shushan has worked through her own trauma from this part of her life, but has left her family and descendants to deal with her trauma on their own. Growing up with traumatized people is a challenge in itself.
The other generational trauma in this book is the abuse doled out by Asya's grandfather and how it has affected all of the women in the house. Asya is the only one in the house not to have known Levent Kazancı, and struggles to understand and connect with her mother, aunts, grandmother, and step-great-grandmother, who all knew him at different stages of his troubled life. Asya feels alone and adrift in a world that does not seem to understand her. Through her own explorations of her family's history, she comes to understand all the members of her family better, and thus feels less alone. Through exploring their own (and each other's) generational trauma, Asya and Armanoush gain a better understanding of themselves and come to terms with their own identities.
One of Shafak's strengths as a writer is her vivid description (I could almost smell the tangerines in the first chapter) and her magical realism. Her writing is frequently dappled with djinn and other magical additions, but it never feels unrealistic or heavy-handed. Of course Auntie Banu is talking to literal tiny beings that sit on her shoulders, duh. What else is a clairvoyant supposed to alone in her room? Shafak's dry, subtle humor also is present in every chapter. This is a nice addition to the book's dark subject, but it never overshadows or downplays the tragedies of genocide or abuse.
Where the story of Asya and Armanoush's friendship really shines (in my opinion, anyway) is their chosen communities outside their families. Asya visits the Café Kundera, which houses nameless characters such as the Nonnationalist Scenarist of Ultranationalist Movies, the Dipsomaniac Cartoonist, and the Exceptionally Untalented Poet; Armanoush similarly frequents the [online] Café Constantinopolis, where she socializes with [also nameless] Baron Baghdassarian and Daughter of Sappho. I love the clever design of having each of the characters in these two "Cafés" be nameless. The patrons of the Café Kundera consistently lie to themselves about who they really are, but we know their true natures because of the pseudonyms Shafak gives them. In contrast, the patrons of the Café Constantinopolis, have created their own pseudonyms and therefore hide an aspect of their true selves from their online community, but in their anonymity, they can express themselves more freely.
As you already know if you have been reading my reviews for a while, Elif Shafak is my favorite author. Her latest book, 10 Minutes, 38 Seconds in this Strange World, was one of my favorite reads of 2020. Every single piece of writing I have ever come across by Shafak has been beautiful, intelligent, and on point. I want to be her when I grow up.
