I love Orhan Pamuk!
His prose is pure poetry; magical and timeless. He is my favorite contemporary writer and I am so happy to find this link to his recent speech at UCSB. Voila the link to “an evening with Orhan Pamuk”:
The Black Book is my favorite one and I am reading it right now.
It’s the second time.
Reading the Black Book is like savoring the sweet flavor of red wine, inhaling the perfume of the roses of Shiraz and falling inside the endless well of humanity’s impossible dreams and desires…it is like being drunken, like dying at the end of a page and being reborn at the turn of the next page, over and over.
It is a book that I never want to end.
I always wanted to be a writer and I never dared. Like Galip who wanted to become Celal, I want to become Orhan Pamuk and I know I can’t…but what if Orhan Pamuk at some point of his life longed to be someone else? What if it is just the reflection of a dream? What if there’s an unread book somewhere waiting to be written?
What if I dare to be someone I am not?
