The realms of Red | Book Shelf

A corpse speaks. "I am nothing but a corpse now, a body at the bottom of a well," he says. A man has been murdered, bludgeoned to death and tossed into a well. This man is Elegant Effendi, one of four master miniaturists commissioned by the Turkish Sultan in secret to bring together a great book. But before the book is finished, Elegant is murdered and so is Enishte, the master overseeing the book. Orhan Pamuk's My Name is Red, is a mystery, a thrilling tale of murder, deception and intrigue, a quest to divine the identity of the ruthless murderer.

Set in 1591 Istanbul, My Name is Red is not just a murder mystery. An exploration of all the tensions between the East and West at that time, the book delves into two distinct styles of painting: the Ottoman style and the Venetian style. The Sultan's great book is supposed to be a major work of art, made by Turks in the style of the Venetians.

The two murders are shadowed in mystery, the motive behind them is murky: could it be because they were illustrating in the style of infidels, a sacrilege to the Muslim heritage or just professional rivalry that they had been chosen over others? Under suspicion are Olive, Butterfly and Stork, the other three master illustrators. Black, the protagonist and recently returned clerk, is charged with finding the identity of the murderer by Enishte's daughter Shekure, an old flame that just refuses to die out. The investigation progresses parsed in between the mediations on art, and culture and Black's quest for the beautiful Shekure.

Narrated by a variety of personas, Pamuk introduces us to the mind of every character, each distinct from the other. Black, the three miniaturists, Shekure, Enishte are just some of the human narrators. Others include a coin, a horse, death, Satan and even the colour red. The chapters maintain a smooth progressive flow despite switching personas so often. Pamuk's writing is impeccable, bringing even the slightest details into vivid focus, describing colours with the skill of a painter.

Shekure's chapters are probably the strongest. Shekure is a beautifully crafted character, every flaw and perfection is sketched in painful detail. The interspersed chapters narrated by inanimate objects are interesting, providing welcome respite from the onslaught of intellectual homily. The Satan and death chapters are among the best. Among the most interesting are also those narrated by the murderer himself, and these chapters offer clues, the murderer teasing and cajoling the reader into trying to fathom his identity.

My Name is Red is by no means an easy book to read. There are times when you need to read a page over three times, just to get the gist of the matter. The content is heavy, verging on discourse on the two clashing cultures, represented by their styles of art. The book touches on so many subjects, on so many levels, and below all the academia, is Orhan Pamuk's love for his country. The minarets of Istanbul stand tall as Black rushes from place to place, first to win over Shekure's love and second to find the murderer of Enishte and Elegant. This is a daring book, a historical epic like no other, intellectual, passionate, exotic, dreamy and riveting.