Perihan Magden

I went back and forth with this one. It got me from the very first page, which was good. But then I wondered if it would dissolve along the way.

The story is mostly narrated by the daughter, who is in her teens by the end and who remembers things from her earlier childhood as the book goes along. She talks about her life with her mother, living in hotels and then leaving suddenly, leaving clothes, toys, collections of rocks behind, running with nothing more than a backpack. And starting again in another hotel.

They often spend several months in one hotel, which made me wonder what they were running from. The girl's description of her mother's behavior suggests that the mother might be imagining her pursuers. Yet there is something about the whole situation that needs an explanation.

Here and there are chapters told from the point of view of observers. People at the hotels who see the girl, who see the mother, who even try to interact with them, although they tend to not welcome it.

We are left wondering about what kind of woman the girl had become, how much her "prayerbook", Bambi, had influenced her, how much she had internalized her mother's story about the world.

I had sympathy for the girl but did not find the observers particularly likeable. The book leaves us with a lot to think and wonder about.… (plus d'informations)

“Escape” makes an interesting spin on an “unreliable narrator”. Not only does the reader doubt what is being recounted by “Bambi” – the nickname of one of the main characters of this story…the reader then comes to doubt almost everything that takes place – details as to time, location, actions and details about the characters…everything is in doubt.

In addition, there are so many emotional minefields just beneath the surface of this piece…that each page is turned with apprehension. At some point, events in the lives of this mysterious mother and daughter seem sure to come to a disastrous head. Their lives on the run from unknown enemies and secret origins provide a chilling vagueness.

“I may have done that sort of thing when I was little. Brought up questions that should never be asked. I didn’t understand Mother well enough, not yet. There are questions like that. Questions that must never be asked. Subjects that must never be brought up.”

Where at first it seems as if this is a story about a mother fiercely protecting her daughter from harm…it then becomes clear there is FAR more to it. The mother has given up not only her life for her daughter, but her daughter’s chance at any sort of a normal life. The roles of mother and daughter switch back and forth throughout.

“You can depend on me, Mother. There won’t be a single tear in my eye when we leave Fetus and go. I won’t make you regret having let me look after him and love him. But I’ll feel like I’m splitting up inside. I’ll feel a sadness inside, welling, swelling, first in my eyes and nose, then down. I’ll be under a heavy grief I’ve never known.”

“I’ll feel all of this and I won’t let you feel any of it.”

Even though I do not think it was intentional - the constant use of the term ‘Mother” kept making me think of another super healthy mother/child relationship in “Psycho” – which just added to my sense of dread.

In Mother’s words: “I remember how refreshed I’d feel every time I’d hear an ambulance, thinking they were coming to get your grandmother. So relieved that maybe she’d be out of my life. It’s a wearing sound, but strangely comforting: the indifferent shriek of an ambulance carrying evil off to the darkness, where it belongs, forever.”

There is something very, very wrong with this mother and daughter. Even after finishing the book, I can’t tell you too much more than that.… (plus d'informations)

Ramazan has known no other life than that as an orphan living in an orphanage in Istanbul. He is a confident, charismatic and beautiful boy, looked up to by his peers among whom he has his favourites, but he soon moves on. That is until Ali arrives at the orphanage - there is something about this big, good looking country boy that captivates Ramazan, and instead of tiring of him after a few months as he would with other boys he realises he is in love with Ali, and feeling that is reciprocated. From then on they are inseparable, that is until it is time at the age of eighteen for them to leave the orphanage. With a year between them they do not leave together, nor are they conscripted into the army at the same time, yet they endure the separation and get together again as soon as they have both served their country. But they are unprepared for life, and while their love never diminishes the difficulties of living as growing men takes its toll and will ultimately lead to tragedy.

The novel is based on a true story, and I was expecting great things of it, yet I felt let down. The two boys are likeable yet I felt I never really got to know or understand them, it all seemed to be very much on the surface. Neither did the writing engage me, how much of this is down to the translation I cannot say, but it seemed very clipped, a great many short or very short sentences that hindered any fluent reading. As for the story I found myself at times losing patience, again due mainly to the way it is related, and it all became very depressing. But much as I liked the two protagonists I was never moved by any of the misfortunes that befell them, and this surely indicates that the writer (or translator) failed to make them live.

One thing did touch me though, and I encountered the same issue recently in another book, and that is the injustice of releasing boys from an orphanage as soon as they reach the age of eighteen totally unprepared for the world and without any support whatsoever. It is clearly a recipe or disaster, and if such things continue today hopefully this novel will help draw attention to the issue, and for this point alone I have given it an otherwise too generous three stars.… (plus d'informations)