Just following up on my Pamuk obsession with a link to this piece he recently published in the Guardian (from the Literary Saloon). The author talks about amassing his library, the changing status position of and novels in Turkish literature, and more. I keep meeting Turks in New York who diss the Nobel Laureate and I can’t tell what this is about. It’s almost like there is something suspect about his international success, some sense that if he’s won a global audience it’s because he’s playing to that audience and not being “authentic.”
Prestigious literary awards help give a writer (and the kind of writing he does) a dominant position in the literary field, increasing the likelihood that he’ll be criticised by less well-known writers (and their readers) who are seeking to improve their own position in the field.
My guess is that it’s politics, or his public views on one particularly contentious issue for Turkey, that makes people paranoid that that’s why he’s getting international attention and acclaim, but I might be missing something here.
Professional envy and the limelight must surely play a big part in all the dissing. I’ve also heard it said that some Turks resent the way Pamuk is feted by the West as though he were the first Turkish writer ever to speak out against state repression and the Armenian genocide when plenty of other lesser known writers (internationally) have risked their lives and careers before him to do the same. And let’s face it, when has there ever been a national consensus in a prize winner’s country of origin about his or her eligibility for the Nobel? Mahfouz is a case in point, and I’m sure there are plenty of English-language writers who still seethe at the fact that Pynchon and Nabokov were bypassed by the Nobel committee while the award was given to Toni Morrison. I for one remain a Pamuk fan!
I think all of you make valid points. I’m just always struck by the way writers who make it to the literary “center” (which in today’s world is Western, both in terms of publishing and literary prizes) from the “margins” often become very suspect in their own home countries, as if they _must_ have compromised themselves somehow to get that international approval. And then, as you point out, there is a (often justified) annoyance at superficial Western coverage that takes the one anointed, “discovered” author and ignores the whole literary tradition he or she comes from. Still, I’m not sure burdening the author with all this is fair.
While in Istanbul, I lent a friend a copy of Alaa El Aswany’s Yacoubian Building, and even though she enjoyed its literary style tremendously, she nonchalantly said that El Aswany enjoys the same literary success in the West for the same reasons that Pamuk does. For some reason, Western readers enjoy reading about the intricate complexities of Middle Eastern societies. Apparently, one enjoys success in the Western world for being critical of society. Pamuk and Aswany are basically writing to the crowd. Now don’t get me wrong, I revere both writers tremendously, but its hard for us Middle Eastern societies, and especially Turkish society, to face the dark side of their society and history and authors like Pamuk get at the heart of that in their writing. I actually wrote an entry related on this issue that you may find interesting:
http://romanticrevolutionary.blogspot.com/2008/12/critique-of-modern-arabic-literature.html