As soon as you turn the page you’re hit with the reality of life and the essence of the novel. Safak dedicates her book to one of her neighbours, a talented tailor who beat his wife. Even though every night the neighbours heard the screams of his wife, they would go on about their day as if nothing was heard or seen.
The book is dedicated to those who hear and who see.
There’s a quote by J. M. Coetzee, “As long as he can remember he has had a sense of himself as prince of the house, and of his mother as his dubious promoter and anxious protector”. Every Turkish or Kurdish woman will understand this quote and know the meaning of it as it’s our reality. It’s our life and our truth wrapped in one quote without needing to mention us.
The twins have two names
When the twins are born (two more girls after the 4 she already has) their mother Naze refuses to speak for 40 days and 40 nights. This is seen as an act of rebellion to God for not giving her a son like she had hoped. At the end of the 40 days Naze finally speaks, she speaks to name her twins. Bext and Bese.
Upon arriving home the father, Berzo, finds out the names and refuses them. He perceives them as resentful as the names mean Destiny and Enough. He decides to call the twins, Pembe and Jamila which mean Pink and Beautiful.
The twins grow up being known by both of their names.
Setting the scene
Safak is quick to set the scene and give meaning to the book’s name, Honour. It all starts when Pembe is back from the hospital. As a treat Berzo takes her out to the cinema where she watches people dancing. When Pembe comes home she shows Jamila and they dance together.
Naze scolds the girls for dancing and “accuses” them of becoming harlots. She lectures the twins on the importance of honour. How God has created man and woman differently. One is made from the colour black and the other white. White is the colour that shows every stain and dirt on it, that’s why women have to spend their whole life clean.
Now we know that Naze is a very traditional mother. My feeling right now is that it’ll be Naze who brings the demise of the family or is at least a catalyst (I write my blogs as I’m reading).
If you’re someone who doesn’t enjoy descriptive scenes and wants to get into the flesh of the book straight away then this one’s for you.
Roxana
“He would think of the emergency handles on trains. He had never tried pulling one, but he knew if someone did, the train would come to a sudden halt. That night he had stopped as if there were such a handle attached to his back and someone had tugged and tugged on it”, what a way to describe love at first sight.
Boy killed his mother for “honour”, 2 December 1978
I don’t think it comes as a surprise to readers that Iskender, Pembe’s oldest son, murders her after suspecting she is having an affair with another man, this is even after his father abandons them with another woman, Roxana.
We find out that the murder happens when Iskender has an encounter with one of the new officers, McLaughlin. Iskender saw it as his duty, however it was never his “intention” to kill her but to only “teach her a lesson”.
To my surprise, as the book continues and Iskender’s character develops I didn’t hate him as an individual. I hated his environment, a myonsgist mother who continuously praised him and made him feel like king, an abandoned father who neglected him and a toxic, traditional uncle who planted the seed of cleaning their family name.
Lately, I’ve had more of a chance to think about the impact of my misogynist culture, how it affects women and men differently. Before I was solely focused on what it did to women, but now I think more of how much boys and men struggle.
They are treated as the special ones from a young age, while the daughters of the house are running around cleaning, learning to cook and studying, the boys are left off. This installs an immense responsibility in us which in the end can work in our favour. It’s not uncommon for Turkish and Kurdish girls to become more successful academically in comparison to the boys. The same sword that minimises us our whole lives can end up benefiting us, however this is a benefit that the mygonsist culture was never intending, we just managed to work things out 🙂
Up until a certain age, the boy is treated like king, he doesn’t need to get involved with housework (coming to the age of 20 and not knowing how to change your bed sheets), he has the freedom to go out and do whatever he pleases. The sudden responsibility that is placed on him when he reaches a certain age comes as a surprise, he is now criticised for being irresponsible and “beceriksiz”. The parents and family who over prepare their daughters fail to prepare their sons.
Esma
I would say out of all of the characters Esma’s was the most relatable, and the one I cheered on the most. Esma is the second eldest and only daughter of her family. She loves literature, learning and has a good understanding of patriarchy.
There is a passage where Esma is describing a certain girl group and how much she doesn’t fit into this. She calls them the “barbies”, the ones who talk about nothing but boys, the childish gossip about other people and constant foolish entertainment. It might be because I’ve had people like this in my life but this sort of chat bores me. Don’t get me wrong, a little idle chit chat never does any harm, however there is much more to life, especially in a life with so many books to be read!
With Esma there was clear gender play, she would spend her nights locked in the bathroom changing her face with makeup to look more manly. This didn’t develop into anything so I’m a little confused as to why she did it. Was it because she felt like a boy, or did she want to fit in and have the rights a male has in a Kurdish family?
Namus (honour)
Namus runs through this book like a river to a sea. I’m not just saying this due to its name but we first witness namus with Naze, then Pembe and then Hediye. Even though Pembe’s story is the main plot of the book, I found Hediye’s life to be just as painful.
I trust that if you’re reading this blog you would have already read the book. If not and you have made it this far then you may be a little angry with me, please stop reading now as the spoiler I’m about to give will make you hate me. Also, trigger warning: suicide.
Hediye is a eldest daughter, for most of her life she comes across as a strong character. This is until she runs away with someone and after a while returns back home. Her return shocks the family, mostly putting fear into Pembe’s heart and anger into Berzo’s eyes. The day after Hediye returns, the girls are sent away from home and on their arrival they find out that their oldest sister has committed suicide.
Hediye had to kill herself to clean her family name. As Berzo says, if he had a son, he would have killed her to clean their family name. The most stressful thing about this is that it’s not fiction, I don’t close the book and it ends there. This is a reality of too many women, the women of the present and past.
Elif Safak’s writing
Safak has a unique ability to intertwine culture in her literature. When I’m reading about one of her characters’ conversations with a Jin (the bastard of Istanbul), or Jamila’s power to be the sacred virgin ebe (midwife), I’m not repulsed by the traditionalism of it. Instead I feel it has a sophistication, a sort of purity to it. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m Kurdish and know the culture, but in her books they don’t get my back up. I respect them.
“He could have been of any age and no age at all”. There must be a terminology for this but I love it when authors do it.
I’m now someone who has read a few Safak novels. In every one of them there is so much pain, such dreadful events both expected and unexpected that happen. It got me thinking, where does she get the inspiration from? Using the term inspiration to describe such hurtful things leaves me in a weird position but I honestly can’t think of another word for it.
It has dawned on me that she’s inspired from the world around her. I don’t believe that anything mentioned in Safak’s novels hasn’t happened in real life. My guess is that she’s mostly inspired from Turkey, if you put your mind to it you could probably trace back to a newspaper article to compare to the events that happen in her books.
As the reader, do we feel despair because the pain is condense into a book we’re reading and we can’t run away from it? The tragic events that happen in everyday life, are we numb to it and privileged enough to be able to ignore some of it?
Whatever the answers are to those questions there’s no running from the novel in my hand.
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