The Flea Palace by Elif Shafak ( translated from Turkish by Muge Gocek)

A Turkish Delight 

   Istanbul has been on my travel itinerary for a very long time. I dream of visiting the Blue mosque, shopping at the Grand Bazaar, sunset cruise on the Bosphorus... Oh the joy! So until then I shall explore the Turkey in the fictional world. 

   The Flea Palace is about BonBon Palace, a decrepit building in Istanbul, whose residents are troubled by the piling garbage near their wall and the bugs infesting the homes. Through the voice of the narrator, Elif Shafak explores the various facets of the building's occupants. Ten flats and ten different stories, it was like peeking through a window and watching scenes unfold in each apartment.

  Here is a sneak peek into some of these flats.

Flat No.1: Musa, his wife Meryem and son Muhammet. Meryem is concerned about her son getting bullied at school and hopes that he would find the courage to defend himself.

Flat No.3: The hairdressers Cemal and Celal,  As for them ,there is never a dull moment in their shop.

Flat No.5: Hadj Hadj who spends his time telling stories to his grandchildren and having his daughter-in-law worried about how these stories would influence these children.

Flat No.7: The narrator, "Me", a recently divorced university professor.

Flat No.9: Hygiene Tyijen and her daughter Su .  Hygiene Tyijen  is a cleanliness freak who is obsessed with getting rid of every bug,  miniscule or large.

Flat No.10: Madame Auntie, a matriarch with a mysterious past. 

   

   At a certain point while reading the book, these varied tales didn't seem to have any consonance. But eventually, like scraps of fabric that are stitched together to form a beautiful quilt, these tales fell into place perfectly.

  I had started reading this book anticipating Whirling Dervishes and Belly Dancers but there is a lot more to Turkey that will enchant us and this book is a microcosm of that.

  On a final note, I salute all translators whose work transcend the boundaries of language and have made such gems written in native languages available to those foreign. Thank you Muge Gocek for the English translation of this book.

The Museum of Extraordinary Things by Alice Hoffman

A box full of sepia tinted photographs

  

    If you are a romantic like me, then coming upon a box of old photographs in a rusty trunk or a tattered suitcase, would be like finding a ticket to ride the "time travel machine". You are instantly transported into a sepia tinted world as you use your vivid imagination and weave tales trying to piece together the lives of those who stare back at you, from those photos. This is how I felt while reading this book.

    Set in New York's Coney Island in the early part of the twentieth century, The Museum of Extraordinary Things is a fairy tale of sorts. There is estranged love, strange magical creatures ( well magical in their own way), a monster of a villain and a grand finale with lots of fireworks. 

   Coralie Sardie is one of the attractions at her father's show, the Museum which exhibits the quirks of nature, the "freak show".  Eddie Cohan in a Russian immigrant, a magician of his own kind... a photographer who like a magician freezes the scene unfolding through the eye of the camera, for all eternity to gasp in awe. Chance brings Coralie and Eddie together but love does not always conquer all...

    I have heard that Alice Hoffman's The Dovekeeper is the best of her work, I hope to read it some day and figure that out myself ( and I shall post my review here in my blog ). Coming back to the book, I like how the author has strung real life events into the story line, giving the novel a sense of credulity. And the narrative is very surreal, reading this book was like a leaf wafting in a gentle breeze.

  If you are a fan of historical fiction, then  you may have already read this book or put it on your reading list. To all others, I recommend this book.

Passages from the Book :

“Eddie had come to understand that what a man saw and what actually existed in the natural world often were contradictory. The human eye was not capable of true sight, for it was constrained by its own humanness, clouded by regret, and opinion, and faith. Whatever was witnessed in the real world was unknowable in real time. It was the eye of the camera that captured the world as it truly was.”

“When darkness fell, he told me to close my eyes and dream, for in my dreams I would find another world, and in my waking life I would soon enough find such a world as well...” 

 “I knew that men told you the truth for one of two reasons: when they wished to be rid of what they couldn’t bear to carry, or when they wished to include you in what they knew so their stories wouldn’t be lost.”