Of cultural ghettoes and Identity politics

The first time I heard about Elif Shafak was when I saw an event invite circulated to Creative Writing students saying that she’d be speaking with Professor Richard Cohen and signing books at the Rose Theatre on 7th March. She’s an award-winning Turkish novelist who blends Eastern and Western traditions of storytelling.
What peaked my interest was that the invite was sent out by one of the faculty saying that ‘she was soon to be a worldwide literary figure.’ I decided to test this theory out for myself.

I don’t know about you but my litmus test nowadays is to check whether a writer has their own website (check) and then check whether they are on TED talks (double check). I mean, Wow! The woman is a gifted storyteller and eloquent to boot. If you’ve ever spent a second wondering about your identity as a writer – especially if you were raised with non-Western roots, you’ll find something here that strikes a chord.

Shafak speaks about ‘cultural cocoons’ as cultural ‘ghettoes’ we create by putting walls up to kill everything within that thick circle including imagination. She speaks about superstition and spirituality in Turkey, throws in Sufism and Rumi like it is a second language to her and eludes to the whirling dervishes within writers. There is a memorable moment she describes when she was in Istanbul during the 1999 earthquake and she rushed out to see her extremely conservative local grocer sitting next to a transvestite with a black wig, offering him a cigarette. That’s what she thinks of first when she thinks of the earthquake now.

Its worth listening to the first fifteen minutes is only to get to the last quarter of the talk where she says that students of Creative Writing courses are told “Write what you know.” She advocates that this is limiting, stunted. Instead Shafak says, “Write what you can feel.”

I’m sold. I can’t wait to hear the woman in person.

The Cellist of Sarajevo

The Cellist of Sarajevo by Steven Galloway is a gorgeous find. Its one of those books that I saw on shelves of all the major bookstores about a year ago but filed away in the recesses of my mind under: Some other time when the furore has died down. I can’t say whether it’s the process of patient waiting till I am not surrounded by the buzz of a title before I read it, not unlike the way I waited for two years to finally see Evita and loved it. Or whether it’s the quality of the writing – but I loved this book. The structure, the topic, the plot details and the characterization were all unique learning points for me. To be told the story of a city at war with itself from four points of view that were well developed and empathetic was something lovely to behold. The language was simple but the evocative emotions and pictures painted by Galloway were what drew me in. Five stars in my book!

Tokyo Cancelled

Tokyo Cancelled by Rana Dasgupta weaves modern fairy-tales that are probably more like the Grimm Brothers original stories than the latter versions that have made their way down through history. Dasgupta’s book of short stories is particularly interesting for a study in frame narratives that hang the stories together. The stories speak for themselves and outweigh the frame narrative – its just there to assist in giving the reader a better eye view. The stories themselves are wonderful little feats of imagination strung together in successful narrative. The Memory editor is a particular favourite of mine with a young boy who is hired to streamline a memory database and erase huge parts of people’s memories before selling them pre-packaged products of their memories, but only the ones they can stand, that make them happy, until his own memories are in a similar state of crisis. The map-maker of Frankfurt takes on a surreal twist that enters the realms of the macabre. The rest you’ll have to read for yourself but the tones of the Emperor’s new clother, Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, Seven Dwarves and Jack and the Beanstalk are all there in broad daylight for your to see. What Dasgupta weaves them into however, is something else.