Paperback, 573 pages
English language
Published Jan. 31, 2002 by Gallimard.
Istanbul, en cet hiver 1591, est sous la neige. Mais un cadavre, le crâne fracassé, nous parle depuis le puits oú il a été jeté. il connaît son assassin, de même que les raisons du meurtre dont il a été victime : un complot contre l'empire ottoman, sa culture, ses traditions et sa peinture. car les miniaturistes de l'atelier du sultan, dont il faisait partie, sont chargés d'illustrer un livre à la manière italienne.
Mon nom est rouge, roman polyphonique et foisonnant, nous plonge dans l'univers fascinant de l'empire ottoman de la fin du xvie siècle, et nous tient en haleine jusqu'à la dernière page par un extraordinaire suspense. --back cover
Thriller policiaco, en la turquia antigua, un excelente estilo literario, un gran manejo de los tiempos, actores, su descripcion me hace imaginar oscuridad, noche, tinieblas misterio, todo elementos para este desarrollo policiaco, lo compare, toda proporcion guardada, ( otros tiempos, otros modos ) con el nombre de la rosa de Humberto Ecco
3,75
historischer Kriminalroman und leidenschaftliche Liebes- geschichte und jede Menge Knabenerotik. Der Leser lernt viel über die Welt um 1500 im Vorderorient.
Sehr schöner historischer Roman, der Einblicke in eine völlig fremde Welt gibt. Sehr gutes Buch. Lesen!
I read the German Edition!
A great novel. Enter a very secret world. Include boy erotism and how to paint Oriental pictures. Learn how painful it is...
If you want, take a look into "Journey into Disaster" available on Amazon as eBook or Paperback by
Konstantin von Weberg
This is the most boring book I've ever read. I feel like absolutely nothing happened in the story, and the book was just narrative about art.
My name is black. I am Red. I, Shekure. All things appear equal in the eyes of Allah.
A beautiful painting in a book. A medium transcribed, with the visions of the story from all angles portrayed through the individual perspectives of each chapter/painting. A subtle and intelligent murder mystery, a romantic tale, a classic, told through the eyes of portraits in a way that contorts the reader and makes them re-think everything they could know about art and perspective. Absolutely spectacular.
The biggest mystery to me about this book is Why I could not finish it. It was impeccably written, inventive, vibrant, well researched and I just could not get past page 100. And now I am beginning to believe that I will not recommence this book anytime soon, and have therefore created an honest shelf entitled "abandoned". Unfortunately, My Name is Not Read, and I will have to wait until I have more time for this baby.
Susan found the book a plod. Stephanie loved it. Jenna didn't finish it, because the library had passed out all 15 copies (and where are these people?) and she had to request a hold to get one. The structure was interesting. As a murder mystery it was a dud, partly because you didn't care much about the suspects. (Hell, you could barely tell them apart.) But the plot was merely the skeleton of the book, upon which Pamuk hung stories, fables, discussions of the nature of art, and pros and cons of individual style and ego.
"My Name is Red" by Orhan Pamuk is a brilliant, well-written book. The author, a recent Nobel Laureate in Literature, is one of my favorites and his "Istanbul: Memories of a City" is one of my favorite books. His strength lies in the ability to articulate the odd position of Istanbul, as a city forever straddling West and East. These complicated questions of identity are combined with a sort of "mischievousness" or playfulness with the world (I cannot think of a better way to describe it) which permeates his writing and makes it so enjoyable.
The book is craftily constructed- each chapter is a first-person narrative of a different part of the story by a different person (sometimes drawings or paintings themselves). But "My Name is Red," which is one of Pamuk's more popular novels, seems to exist uneasily in two different genres. The first is a mystery: a group …
"My Name is Red" by Orhan Pamuk is a brilliant, well-written book. The author, a recent Nobel Laureate in Literature, is one of my favorites and his "Istanbul: Memories of a City" is one of my favorite books. His strength lies in the ability to articulate the odd position of Istanbul, as a city forever straddling West and East. These complicated questions of identity are combined with a sort of "mischievousness" or playfulness with the world (I cannot think of a better way to describe it) which permeates his writing and makes it so enjoyable.
The book is craftily constructed- each chapter is a first-person narrative of a different part of the story by a different person (sometimes drawings or paintings themselves). But "My Name is Red," which is one of Pamuk's more popular novels, seems to exist uneasily in two different genres. The first is a mystery: a group of miniaturists in 16th century Istanbul are working on a secret manuscript for the Sultan done in the "Frankish" method. One of them ends up dead and it takes the investigations of Black Effendi to find out which of the miniaturists is the killer. The second is a meditation on art and perception. Both of these things would exist fine on their own but at times, I found their marriage to be difficult. I found the mystery to be confusing and obtuse and the philosophy a bit irritating when I wanted to focus on the mystery. Also, I personally was not interested with the topic of the philosophy.
I think the work is unique but is one which I did not enjoy as much as I had expected. Perhaps the idea of the book not meeting my expectations is part of the problem- I had approached the book looking for perhaps more of a straight forward mystery and got something much more complex. This book is not a simple narrative and should be read when one can fully devote time and concentration to its very interesting ideas- if not, you may miss something.
