Friday, February 17, 2012

The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga

The White TigerThe White Tiger by Aravind Adiga

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


The White Tiger is an exception to my usual readings of post-colonial, anglo-indian writers that I have known and loved. While my big guns (Rushdie, Seth, Ghosh, Chandra etc.) dabble in magical-realism and genealogies, this book wanders towards social realism in a way that can be at times called demagogic. However, the story is riveting, the narrator very interesting and the emotions do, even though at times smacking of much too much sentimentalism, go somewhere real that we all share. The social concerns of the author are revealed openly in passages like the following: "[...] The story of my upbringing is the story of how a half-baked fellow is produced. But pay attention Mr. Premier! Fully formed fellows, after 12 years of school and three years of university, wear nice suits, join companies,and take orders from other men for the rest of their lives.
Entrepreneurs are made from half-baked clay."
Or in another passage, the author's philosophy, albeit "half-baked", comes through:
"Iqbal, that great poet, was right. The moment you recognize what is beautiful in the world, you stop being a slave. [...] If you taught every poor boy how to paint, that would be the end of the rich in India."



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Sunday, January 01, 2012

Sense of an Ending

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Having lost interest in Barnes way when England England was published, I had to read what the old bean wrote to win the man booker. The book starts in a pubescent haze that I enjoyed. After that period it took me a long time to get through the rest as i found it simply boring. A few nice aphorisms of insight do decorate the pages that actually raise the bar of its profundity if anything at all ("history is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation"). However the last few dozen pages hit me like a truck in terms of emotional content. Waves of sadness that is pleasant only when they are artistic flooded over and an age-old metaphysical bellow of humankind tried to rise up my throat. It was not the content in fact I couldn t narrate what happens even to intentionally cause a spoiler to surface. I was reminded of another phrase Barnes had put down in Flaubert's Parrot on the tragedy of man -i believe belongs to Balzac but I' m not sure- which went something like "mankind is like a clumsy bear banging on a broken kettle while actually trying to serenade the stars". Anyway, i don t know if this book is booker prize material but it nonetheless contains some niches of wisdom and sources of contemplation if nothing else that can only come from a seasoned novelist as Barnes.


The sen

Sunday, November 27, 2011

From Thomas Hardy

Late Lyrics and EarlierLate Lyrics and Earlier by Thomas Hardy

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


GOING AND STAYING
I

The moving sun-shapes on the spray,
The sparkles where the brook was flowing,
Pink faces, plightings, moonlit May,
These were the things we wished would stay;
But they were going.

II

Seasons of blankness as of snow,
The silent bleed of a world decaying,
The moan of multitudes in woe,
These were the things we wished would go;
But they were staying.

III

Then we looked closelier at Time,
And saw his ghostly arms revolving
To sweep off woeful things with prime,
Things sinister with things sublime
Alike dissolving.



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Sunday, October 23, 2011

The Possessed

The Possessed: Adventures With Russian Books and the People Who Read ThemThe Possessed: Adventures With Russian Books and the People Who Read Them by Elif Batuman

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


Now, I have mixed feelings towards Batuman. Her scholarship is erudite and proper, no doubt. Her prose is fluid, lightly humourous and colourful, as much as a literary academic can be. However, what made this book a work difficult to trudge through for me was, to be crude, the uninteresting nature of her research and personality. I normally wouldn't include personality as a determining factor of an author's book but this book is largely based on her experiences while doing research on russian and russian lit and her travels in the old soviet republics so I believe I have the right to comment on her character. Apart from the last chapter that gave the name to the book, where she finally reveals a bit more sincerity of character, the rest of the text basically issues from a retentive narrator who is either really trying to conceal (both from herself and her readers) the depth of her emotions, or is actually a very boring person. However, in the last chapter we get a glimpse of Batuman's heart speaking, albeit still in the most reserved manner possible. Unfortunately her pastoral descriptions did not engage me, nor did her simplistic and superficial descriptions of her interaction with the characters of the worlds she encounters. It is as if she has taken up literary criticism not only as a scientific way of looking at literature but also as a framework that dictates her heart. Her relationships with people are cold, unassuming and marked with a distance that, to me, is just plainly immature coming from a graduate student of mixed origins
Her picture reminds me of my deceased brother so I still have a positive bias towards her but this book I hope is only a toddlers step in a future of truly genuine writing. On the other hand, there is no way I can take seriously the over-the-top praise on the back of the book. So, in general this book is not bad, though is dissapointing, given the rich content she has the opportunity to tap into.



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Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Garth Ennis' 303

303303 by Garth Ennis

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Being my all-time favorite writer in the graphic novel tradition after Alan Moore, Ennis is right in his element in this mini series. Ennis is well-known for his extreme, sarcastic and cynically witty style as displayed in books like Preacher, The Pro, The Boys etc. but to me, his true calling lies in war stories. The series Battlefields, the two volume War Stories and even the farcical Adventures of the Bollock Patrol demonstrate his strange and creepy fascination with war machinery, strategy, weaponry but without an obsessive, fascistic and militaristic point of view. In fact what makes Ennis' stories so poignant is the balance he is able to draw between the truly heroic (!) esssence of human battle as been practised for centuries in its various forms and paraphernalia along with the inescapable paradox that it creates, which is the cruelty that man exacts upon man. Ennis is fascinated by war (especially the two world wars) but no matter how much guts go flying around the panels and limbs are torn to pieces in multicolor, Ennis never leaves the reader without a deep sense of sadness about [the misery that man hands upon man / that deepens like a coastal shelf] all the while praising some indistinct innate glory that physical conflict between bodies carry with them. This is why Ennis is a good writer: he doesn't try to solve the paradoxes of human existence nor does he pretend to have any ambitious certainties in mind, he just marvels at them with a compassion that is cynical enough to be seriously down-to-earth - thus to be taken seriously....



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Tuesday, September 06, 2011

Emmaus by Alessandro Baricco

EmmausEmmaus by Alessandro Baricco

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Baricco'nun büyülü diliyle bir grup katolik italyan gencin yetişkinliğe trajediyle adım atmalarını anlatan Emmaus aslında bir taraftan da isa yoluyla yetişkinliğe adım atan insanlığı, 'biz'den 'ben' e doğru yürüyüşü simgeliyor: "Bu kadar zaman ne olduğunu nasıl bilemedik ve karşımıza çıkan her şeyin, herkesin sofrasına nasıl oturduk? Küçük yürekler - büyük yanılsamalarla besliyoruz onları ama yargının sonunda Emmaus'taki havariler gibi yürüyoruz, gözlerimiz kör olmuş, yanımızdaki arkadaşlarımızı ve aşklarımızı tanıyamıyoruz, artık kendini bilmeyen bir Tanrı'ya güvenerek. Böylece her şeyin nasıl başladığını ve sona erdiğini biliyoruz ama öze varamıyoruz. Başlangıcız ve sonucuz - her zaman geç ulaşılan bulgu." (s. 55)
Baricco her zaman kolay okunan bir yazar değil ama bu kitap dikkatle tekrar tekrar okunmayı hakeden bir dile sahip...



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Friday, August 19, 2011

The Book of Enoch

The Book of EnochThe Book of Enoch by Robert Henry (R. H.) Charles

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


The Book of Enoch is a transitional piece of apocalyptica (!) written smack between the passage from Judaism to Christianity. So you have Sheol and not Hell, no Jesus but yes Son of God and so on. Some of the texts are as weird as the heaviest of the Nag Hammadi scriptures but in essence, tell of the same story of the time briefly described in Genesis, when the Nephilim came down from heaven and took human wives and worse, taught men agriculture, metal working, writing and so on. An A-level text for all "they came from outer space" nuts :)



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Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Le Capitaine EcarlateLe Capitaine Ecarlate by David B.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


david b. 's hallucinatory dimension in which supernatural events are as common as buying bread for the morning breakfast decorates this tribute to schwob and enigmatic figures of french criminal literary figures or, grandfathers of genet. especially two panels stand out as pure visual and verbal poetry. Although I deeply admire david b.'s own artwork, the pencil here (emmanuel guibert) has added a does of cute a la Hergé, thus balancing beautifully the eeriness of the plot with a nostalgia for childhood pirate fantasies. For me, this was a re-kindling of my late childhood where j. verne reigned supreme.



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Monday, February 21, 2011

The King's Speech

Maybe it's me hitting middle age and leaning towards a more conservative nature but the excellent film The King's Speech made me think about two things: One, the advent of psychoanalysis as a science albeit in an eccentric and unorthodox manner; Two, a justification for my recent contemplations on the importance of royalty in governing bodies of nation-states. Now I am not in favor of nation-states to say the least. In fact, I would call myself an anarchist if any political tendency is required to be submitted, however given the hideous shape representative democracy has taken today and which, until the foreseeable future at least, seems to be here to say, I have begun to consider the virtues of having a royal family at the head of a government, even if it shall function -or precisely as- a symbolic construct. There are two reasons for this: The first is the short cut to the Aristotelian notion of catharsis in Greek Tragedy translated onto the political stage. Very briefly, the commoner sees the way in which their superiors are wrapped up in the same human anguishes, if not more, and live pretty much the same anxious existence that they do, albeit on a financially more elevated scale, which makes the scandals and shortcomings even more delicious to the senses most of the time. David's resignation of the throne due to his love for a twice-divorced American woman (from Baltimore to top it off) in the film instigates more disgust in the royal family than in the people. For the commoner, it only goes to show that royalty is not devoid of human mistakes, errors and emotional fervor, which if i might add, can only restore any dignity in their eyes that was previously lost from the point of view of the royal family.
Now the second reason relies on, in my opinion, the present failure of representational democracy around the world. I do not take pleasure in being ruled by a bunch of oafs in suits who were in turn elected, by god knows what motivation, by other oafs who are mostly unable to think for themselves. Yes I know, this sounds very elitist and in contradiction to my anarchistic tendencies, however, anarchism depends heavily on an ethos of equality that also includes a certain level of awareness of the position and function of oneself in the world in relation to others, which doesn't manifest itself just by pertaining to the human race. Anyway, that is for another post. Coming back, it seems to be that masses of people who look towards leaders also look for reference points that collate and unite certain values and tradition that serves to hold them together and the above-mentioned oafs are far from offering this. Besides, the motivation of leading through representation is always bundled up with extremely pragmatic reasons for entering politics. On the other hand, royalty in a certain sense is bound by tradition and cannot go against the values it purports to represent as historical continuity. One must separate royalty and aristocracy here though. Decadence in the latter is far more possible than in the former. Again I do not think values and traditions are necessary for the governance of the human race but today it seems like the majority does indeed feel this need. Royalty may indeed be able to perform this function even if it may be completely and solely symbolic. I do not offer a better solution but only as a social safety valve for -the many- occasions when parliamentary politicians just become too disgusting to bare. I'm all up for the constant re-formulation of values and am completely open to change, and royalty at least offers a point of departure, even if the results contradicts the points of origin. It is easier to work within limits than be completely free to choose whatever one wants. Most of the time, with unlimited choice comes unlimited stupidity.
Must continue some other time, this post has already become too long... And the point about psychoanalysis is, i think, too apparent in the film to go into depth.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

FRAGILE ! HANDLE WITH CARE

As with all notions, the century has also cracked down on the school of thought called materialism and has taken up a role in today's daily discourse occupying a strange and vague, if not downright wrong position in describing an attitude towards the world. Today, the clinging to a certain object for no apparent reason (say a t-shirt that has holes in it, whose holder continues to wear even though it looks as if it is about to burst into threads) is often confused with an obsession with inanimate objects and a pathological strain that urges the subject to yearn for possession of the object or to mourn excessively for its loss. In fact, today's consumer culture has overturned the interest (to find a neutral enough word) to an object as shameful, though at the same time it urges everyone to get hold of (and get rid of) more and more. Apart from the usual and justified arguments on global warming and climate change, Marx's understanding of the commodity is more validated than ever. Today, the severed link between man and its labor can be strengthened with an outlook to possessions that also answers to a spiritual dimension. A man-made object comes out of the pockets of other men, no matter what way it was produced. It may not go back into the pockets it has come out of, nonetheless it carries the residue of human effort and all the shared associations therein. Casting away an object without trying to extend its life is not materialism (in the sense of Madonna's material girl) but rather to recognize and value the existential time one or many people have put into it. True materialists I would say are the thriftiest. Not in the short-sighted (though equally valid) interpretation pertaining to household economy and the like, but because the only way to fight the dehumanization and disrespect to objects that consumerism entails and purports is by attaching some significance to the assistance the object adds to our daily, small struggles. The way one treats an object turns out to be a clear indication of character. Paying the respect due to human effort in its metamorphosed form extends its force to the respect and recognition of what many see as trifles: the daily habits one makes, the public persona one constructs to meet the people that we meet, and the personal details one adds to the aforementioned tasks through long meticulous days of self-searching and contemplation that are the pillars that a true, honest, personal philosophy rises upon. Monetary value is in the background, though still inevitably there. However, objects still deserve a similar respect one pays (if one does that is) to father's watch for example, even if it is illusory and mocked by others. Like the Japanese, the true art of living and being at peace with it all may lie in the conscious effort to add art and beauty to all aspects of our interaction with the universe. All this may be criticized cynically as self-serving, which I would agree, though I am a firm believer that a trained care accorded to the way we deal with the objects that assist in our lives will lead to the careful handling of our human relationships, which are as, if not more fragile than the objects that surround us. We tend to forget that most of our objects will outlive us, and if imbued with enough sincere emotion, will carry on our name with the associations it draws on like a magnet by the people that know, and hopefully, love us. Of course, just like with the loss of a loved one, one always has to remember to let go... This world, with all the people, ipods, jackets and bushes in it, will constantly evade our grasp pleasing us with their company first, then hurting us with their inevitable demise...

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Doris Lessing'in bir kitabına yazdığı önsöz

Bilim kurgu yazarlarının kitaplarına yazdıkları önsözleri okumak bazen en yoğun felsefi denemelerden daha çok haz veriyor bana. Seçmiş oldukları tür edebiyat dünyasında yıllarca öylesine tartışmalı olmuş ki, zaman zaman kendilerini temize çıkarma ihtiyacı içerisinde bazen mahçup, bazen de sert bir savunma ruhu içerisinde yarattıkları dünyaların kendi dünyamızla olan yakın ilgisini irdelemek zorunda kalmışlar. Bunlardan beni en çok etkileyenlerden biri Ursula K. LeGuin'in “Karanlığın Sol Eli”ne yazdığı önsözdür. Bir başka etkileyici önsözü de yeni keşfettim. Türkçe'ye de çevrilmiş olan “The Sirian Experiments”in başında yer alan bu kısa pasaj Lessing'in ve genel olarak bilim-kurgucuların düşünce dünyasının derinliğini ve kurguya duydukları derin bağlılığın felsefi bir açıklaması adeta. Yanlış hatırlamıyorsam Alfred de Vigny'nin “Chatterton” isimli oyununda şöyle bir replik vardı: “Şairler medeniyet gemisinin rotasını yıldızlara bakarak belirleyenlerdir.”
Aşağıda bu önsözün kendi yaptığım çevirisi bulunmaktadır. Zevk almanızı diler, hatalar için şimdiden affınıza sığınırım.

ÖNSÖZ

Shikasta ve nispeten daha az olarak Alan 3, 4 ve 5 in Evliliği kitaplarımın yarattığı etkiler bana bir tür açıklama yapmam gerektiğini hissetirdi... Eğer bir kozmoloji yarattıysam, altında sadece edebi bir sebep yatmaktadır! Bir zamanlar gençken, gerek dini gerek siyasi fikirlere daha kolay inanırdım; şimdi ise inanmakta gitgide zorlanıyorum... Ancak merakım sürekli artmakta... Bana öyle geliyor ki bu gezegenin bir türü olarak kendimize bakışımız hatalı ve bu bakışımız bizi takip edecek olan kuşaklar açısından, mesela Yeni Gine'dekilerin dünya hakkında görüşleri bize bugün ne kadar yetersiz geliyorsa o kadar yetersiz gelecek. Bir tür olarak kendimize bakışımız bugün tamamıyle yanlış. Olan biten hakkında bildiklerimiz gerçekten çok az. Asıl olan bitenin büyük kısmı sıradan vatandaşa anlatılmıyor, aksine bu bilgi küçük kast ve cuntaların malı olmuş durumda. Eğitim sistemimizin -ve tabi ki bu kürede yaşayanların büyük çoğunluğunun- saçma bulduğu birçok konuyu merak ediyor ve üzerine kafa patlatıyorum. Eğer bir fizikçi olsaydım ortada hiçbir sorun olmazdı! Onlar yıldızları yutan kara delikler hakkında gayet rahat konuşabiliyorlar. O kara delikler ki zaman-mekan sıçramaları yapabileceğimiz mekanizmaları keşfetmede bize bilgi verip, matematiksel elçabukluklarıyla aralarından geçerek kendimizi evrenimizin yasalarının geçerli olmadığı başka diyarlarda bulmamızı sağlayabilir. Onlar rahatlıkla kendi evrenimizle içiçe varolan ama göremediğimiz, zamanın geriye doğru aktığı ya da kendi evrenimizin bir ayna görüntüsü olan paralel evrenlerden bahsedebiliyorlar.
Bugünlerde heryerde karşımıza çıkan, en sık tekrarlanan alıntının J.B.S. Haldane'in sözleri olması bence bir rastlantı değil: “Artık düşüncem evrenin sadece sandığımızdan da tuhaf olduğu değil, sanabildiğimizden de tuhaf olduğudur.”
Hepimizin bildiği gibi okurların kozmolojilere ve düzenli düşünce sistemlerine “inanma” tutkularının altında yatan sebep dün kesin doğru kabul ettiklerimizin her gün giderek dağıldığı dehşetengiz ve hayret verici zamanlarda yaşıyor olmamızdır. Ama birbirleriyle kıyasıya mücadele içinde olan bu kesinliklerin yarattığı çorbada tuzum varmış gibi yargılanmak da istemem.
Tanımları gereği hayal güçleriyle işlerini yapan yazarların bu özelliği neden yeterince kabul görmez ki? Biz “uydururuz.” İşimiz bu.
Bu tarz uzayda geçen kurgulara kendim girişmeden evvel, bir uzay aracıyla kendi güneş sistemlerinden bizimkine gelip, kendi sistemlerinde güneşleri bir süredir kendilerine kötü davranmaya karar verdiğinden, bizim güneşimizin de zalimce davranıp davranmadığını soran yüksek zekalı bir zürafa türü hakkında hoşuma giden bir öykü okuduğumu hatırlıyorum. Kendi kendime şunu söylediğimi hatırlıyorum: En azından bu hikayenin yazarı uzay aracında bir zürafa olmanın nasıl bir şey olduğunu soran dikkatle yazılmış mektuplar almayacaktır.
İnsanoğlunun hayal edebileceği herşeyin bir başka yerde, bir başka gerçeklik düzleminde karşılığı olduğu söylenegelmiştir. Tüm edebiyatlarımız, kutsal kitaplarımız, mitlerimiz, efsanelerimiz -insan ırkının kayıtları- hep iyi ile kötü arasındaki görkemli mücadeleden bahsederler. Bu mücadele polisiye öykülerde, westernlerde, romantik romanlarda hep yansımasını bulur. Bu kavgayı ele almayan bir öykü, şarkı ya da tiyatro bulmak gerçekten zordur.
Ama hangi savaş bu? Nerede? Ne zaman? Hangi Güçler arasında?
Hayır, hayır, ne aşağılık uzay korsanlarıyla dolu Shammat diye bir gezegen olduğuna, ne bu gezegenin bizim zavallı küremizden enerji emdiğine, ne de gezegenimizin Canopus ve Sirius adında o büyük imparatorlukların çekişmelerine sahne olduğuna “inanıyorum.”
Ama kadim kozmolojilerde Canopus ve Sirius'un bu denli büyük rol oynaması birşeylerin göstergesi olamaz mı?
“İyi” ve “kötü” hakkında fikirlerimiz neyi yansıtmaktadır?
Gezegenimizin bizden daha ileri yaratıklar tarafından deneyleri için kullanılmış olduğunu öğrenmek beni şaşırtmazdı... Ya da binaların boyutlarının tahmin edemediğimiz şekillerde bizi etkilediğini ve geçmişte varolmuş olup sonradan unuttuğumuz bir başka bilimin olduğunu öğrenmek... Ya da zamanında bilemediğimiz yollarla köleleştirilmiş veya yardım görmüş olduğumuz... Veya zamandaki konumumuz hakkında nadiren gerçeklerle örtüşen kişisel görüşlerimizin “yaşlanma” olgusuna şaşırmamıza yol açmasının belki de geçmişte bir başka tür yaşam döngüsüne sahip olmuş olabileceğimizin bir göstergesi olabileceği, ve bu geçmişin biyolojik anlamda aslında yakın bir geçmişe tekabül etmesinden dolayı henüz tarafımızdan psikolojik olarak hazmedilememiş olması.... Ya da her çeşit antik araç-gerecin bir zamanlar -belki de hala- henüz tahmin edemediğimiz işlere yaradığı... Ya da insan ırkının geleceği hakkında şu anda tasavvur edebileceğimizden çok daha muhteşem bir planın varolduğu... Ya da...
Ay'ımızda uzaylıların yaşadığına “inanmıyorum.” Ama neden olmasın?
UFO'lara gelince; hem bilimsel hem de sivil çevrelerden birçok akıllı, sorumlu, duyarlı insanın bolcana sunduğu kanıtlara inanmamak bazen zor olsa gerek.
Bir başka nokta...
Bu kitapta yarattığım dişi bürokrat, tekdüze, adil, görevine bağlı, etkin ve kendi doğası hakkında yanlış fikirlere sahip. Kendisi yetenekli bir idareci, bir toplum mühendisi. Ambien II'yi aslında çok daha fazla sevebilirdim. İlgilendiği meselelerin bir kısmı tabi ki benim de ilgi alanlarım. Bunlar arasında en önde gideni grup aklıyla, yani nadiren kabul ettiğimiz ama hepimizin bir parçası olduğu o topluluk aklıyla ilgili. Kendimizi özerk varlıklar olarak görmeye meyilliyiz; zihinlerimiz kendi ürünümüz, inançlarımız serbestçe seçilmiş, fikirlerimiz kendimize özgü ve biricik diye düşünürüz... Milyarlarcamızın yaşadığı bu gezegen üzerinde hala her birimizin biricik olduğuna inanmaya, ya da her ne kadar diğerleri yığının içindeki noktalar kadar önemsiz olsa da en azından Ben'in kendi kaderini tayin eden, kendi zihnine sahip olan bir varlık olduğunu düşünmeye hazırız nedense. Acayip olan bu işte, ve üzerinde düşündükçe gitgide daha da acayipleşiyor bence. Kendimiz hakkında böyle düşüncelere nasıl varıyoruz?
Bana öyle geliyor ki fikirler insanlık boyunca gel-gitler halinde yayılıyor.
Nereden geliyorlar peki?
Okur ve eleştirmenlerin bu seriyi, yani Canopus Argos'ta: Arşivler serisini sürükleyici (olduğunu umduğum) birkaç hikaye anlatmamı sağlayan, hem kendime hem de başkalarına sorular sorduran, bazı fikirleri derinlemesine incelemek ve sosyolojik olasılıkları değerlendirmek için kullanabileceğim bir çerçeve olarak görmelerini dilerim.
Tabi ki aslında bahsetmek istediklerim Kızıl ve Beyaz Cüceler ve onların Hatırlayan Aynası, (anti-yerçekimi gücüyle beslenen) uzay roketleri, refakatçi varlıkları olan Hadron, Gluon, Pion, Lepton ve Muon, ve Tılsımlı Kuvarklarla Renkli Kuvarklar.
Ama hepimiz de fizikçi olamayız ki...

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Hast Thou Forsaken Me?

Times have been trying… Illnesses, deaths in the family, dead friends; life’s hardware and software, failing one after another. Strangely at times like these writing is not really a valid resort for me. On the contrary, it feels as if the whole carpet is pulled from under my feet and though it may sound depressing, it as at times like these that I become painfully –and exhilaratingly- aware of the tragedy we are all burrowed in. However, this realization also brings a clear sense of being alive; perhaps that’s why I do not resort to writing, which to me is so linked to the past, so linked to death. The task is not to imagine or re-create this death; it is to live it to the fullest.


I do not know if misfortunes are brought on by one’s own conceptions, there are some who say they are, as if we are in the center of the universe; summon or be summoned. I really have doubts about all these laws of attraction and such. True, subjects do conceive of things that might turn into self-fulfilling prophecies, but I find it extremely unfair to blame a person’s temporary inability to cope with what life brings simply on cognitive negativity. Life and the universe are far too complicated to boil down to a person’s wishes and aspirations. We may be extremely strong creatures, but we are also painstakingly weak and insignificant. I take comfort in this thought.


When disaster strikes me, it usually does so in a flurry of events that unfold one after the other in quick succession. I have had many friends who have remarked I must’ve been a horrible person in my past lives. I refer them to the Book of Job to re-think their convictions. It seems to me that tragic trials are a gift, even though they may be painful while experienced. Happiness is just a sordid trope that we invent to sustain ourselves, though this is not to devalue it. No one likes to wake from a pleasant dream, but we all eventually do. Just like trying desperately to scream while dreaming, we smile in waking life knowing it is a fleeting cover of what lurks beneath. But we smile, we always do, we always will. As Beckett so wonderfully put it, I can’t go on, I will go on…

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Yaşam ve insan sevinci veren anlardan...

Mahallemde park yeri bulmak dünyanın en zor hallerinden birine kolaylıkla dönebilir. Ben arkadaşım olan bir dükkan sahibinin (sağolsun) bana yerini vermesiyle bu işi kısmen hallettim. Tabii sonucunda civar esnafla da bir güzel arkadaş oldum. Bugün eve dönüp park ettikten sonra, kuaförün adamı arabamın kaportasındaki göçüğü görüp benimle konuşmaya başladı. Konuşma çok çabuk kendi tecrübelerine ve nasıl böylesi sorunları altettiğine geldi. Sonra beraber bakmaya karar verdik. Kaput açıldı, sorunlu bölge elle yoklandı, gerekli tetkiler yapıldı ve bir çözüm olarak çekiçle tersinden vurma ortaya sürüldü. Bu arada kuaförün daha genç çırağı, karşıdaki elektrikçi, basket forması giyen tıfıl bir çocuk, dvdci arkadaşım ve bir müşterisi de etrafımıza toplandı. Her kafadan bir ses çıkıyor, "çekiç gibi birşey var mı?" cinsinden sorular havada uçuşuyordu. Tıfıl çocuk "ben bubamdan alır gelirim" dedi ve bir anda ortadan kayboldu. O sırada arkadan geçen devlet memuru ya da taşra avukatına benzeyen mahalleden bir adam elindeki çantayı bırakıp olaya el atmaya karar verdi. Arabaya yaklaşıyordu ki çocuk elinde çekiçle çıkageldi. Kuaför çekici aldığı gibi kaportaya çakmaya başladı. Tabi nafile... Bu sırada memur bey gelip saçta yarılmış kısmı gösterdi engin bilgisini paylaşmaktan, haklı çıkmaktan keyif alarak.
Çekiçten medet umulamazdı.
"Geçende ben bizim kayınçonun arabasını yaptım."
"Ha yapmıştın evet."
"Dur şimdi ben bir bakayım..." Kuaföre girip sepetteki broşürleri kaptı, elinde burup katlayarak kalın bir dikdörtgen yaptı.
"Bak şimdi bunu koyacaz, sonra bastıracaz, pat diye yerine gelecek."
"E abi sen onu tahtayla yapmıştın o gün?"
"Olum elimdeki neden yapılıyor?"
Kimse ne diyeceğini bilemedi. Adam bir süre denedi ama herhangi bir değişiklik yoktu arabada. Yandaki çaycı da, iki dükkan ötedeki balıkçı da, nalburun oğlu da olay mahalline antenlerini uzaktan da olsa uzatmışlar, mevzuya kaynamışlardı.
Bir süre gülünüp konuşuldu sonra sessizce dağılındı.
Bir kez daha burada yaşadığıma sevinerek, gülümseyerek eve yöneldim.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me? 3 and a Half

While looking at old notes about the next danger I want to write about, I came across this quote by Salustius (4th century BC, writer, friend of emperor Julian) quoted in The Jesus Mysteries (excellent book by the way; Timothy Freke and Peter Gandy, 1999):

"To wish to teach all men the truth of the gods causes the foolish to despise and the good to be slothful, whereas to conceal the truths by myths prevents the former from despising philosophy and compels the latter to study it."

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Monday, September 14, 2009

Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me? 3

Danger 2: The nature of these teachings is almost always shrouded in secrecy, hence “mysteries.” This theoretical foundation is usually backed up with lived experience that introduces the subject’s five senses to a challenge, to a glimpse of the world beyond so to speak. Today, just as it is –purportedly- easy to lose 20 pounds by strapping weird vibrating gadgets to our fatty regions, we are given the gracious chance to become “enlightened” in a heartbeat. Gone are the harrowing days of fasting in a cave, or undergoing rituals that are so harsh on the body and mind that one tries to hallucinate their way out of the ordeal, or at least they’re gone for the most part. Now I am definitely not one to promote asceticism in any form, but I believe there is a purpose for this gateway to the acquisition of esoteric knowledge: One must actually deserve it. Through these initiation rites, candidates are forced to see the limitations of their five senses and are put under the pressure of a near-death-experience to “die before one’s dead.” So while the first lesson one learns is the fact that one has to deserve this knowledge, the second concerns humility...

(tbc)
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Blogumdaki Twitter

Garip bir şekilde tanımadığım birinin twit leri blogumdaki twitter update widget'inda görünüyor. Neden, nasıl hiçbir fikrim yok, zaten twitleri gözüken arkadaşın da neden olduğuna dair bir haberi yok... sanal böceklenme...

Sunday, September 06, 2009

Furuğ'dan (yeryüzü ayetleri, çev. Makbule Aras. Can: 2009)

Genç yaşta hayatını kaybeden İranli kadın şair Furuğ'nun kitabında, uzun zamandır aşk hakkında duyduğum en güzel dizelere rastladım. İşte buyrun:

hayattan ne istiyorum biliyorsun,
ben sen olayım, sen, tepeden tırnağa sen
bin defa gelmek mümkün olsa dünyaya
her defasında sen, her defasında sen

(SEVMEKTEN, s. 28)


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Sunday, August 30, 2009

Yaş Bakla 2: Psikanaliz

Çağdaş, Levent ve konukları Daniş'le psikanaliz üzerine bir sohbet. Kayıt biraz kötü, Madagaskar'da yeterli ekipman bulamıyorlarmış, ileride düzeleceğine söz verdiler...

http://www.divshare.com/download/8329037-2a5



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Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me? 2

Danger 1:
Ever since mystical knowledge has become widely accessible in popular culture (when exactly did this begin I have no clue of but I presume it must be around 18th-20th century) thanks to capitalism, it has fled the underground drawing-rooms of mesmerism, washed itself clean of the horror fiction it engendered and has found itself positioned right next to the cashier at a bookstore near you in nice, bite-size packages. With so much material at hand, it is easy to fall into syncretism, which is not a problem for the scriptor of this text as long as the study aims at something. However, things, I think, get out of hand once the paradoxes, parables and a plethora of lovely phrases that these traditions have engendered become tapas (meze/bitings) for whatever the service the subject enunciating requires. Kind of like an inverted intentional fallacy, or reader-response theory gone haywire… This, merged with postmodern cultural relativism (which is going out of fashion in academia finally, but will stick to the streets for now it seems) and a warped idea of Democracy and Reason, produce a terrifyingly idiotic genie that possesses human agents and urges them to become tools to the cop-out that is “this is my opinion, you have to respect it…” Once this is uttered, the expectation is that all interpretation must stop, all paths to t/Truth are blurred and each one is assigned their own little game to play. Not only that, the game you play is different than mine, since we are both unique (You got to admit that this idea of the unique caresses many narcissistic soft spots) therefore you go your own way and I go mine… You got to do what you got to do, in NYC parlance (when I share something with you, I’m by default asking for you to tell me what I should do? The audacity…)
Fair enough, but can you possibly imagine a world where everyone ceases to interrogate the others' opinion? It would be as boring as golf if you ask me. What else do we have to talk about? Consider the minute the other ceases to be a zone of psychic give-and-take, we’re left with nothing but ourselves, this supposedly unique being which stops being unique if there is nobody else to measure itself up against - can you actually imagine white without black?
But I digress…