Last Train to Istanbul

by Ayse Kulin

Ok I have been making a few trips to Istanbul lately.  It’s a wonderful city.  I have come to love Turks.  They are very industrious, accommodating, fun loving, sincere, and live a wholesome life. So I thought I’d read up on Turkey and come to a deeper understanding of their country from a literary point of view.  Yes I’ve read some history on Turkey and am now going the novel route, books about Turkey by Turkish authors. 

Many novels in some way draw on history.  A novelist has license to color the story with one bias or another.  Reader beware of perspective… yours and theirs.  Ayse Kulin is the most popular modern author in Turkey today.  She captures the emotion of Jews in WWII and places it in a Turkish perspective.  This book is about fate on the stage of religion and war.  {reference my bibliography note Page 357}  The prime mover in the book is Selva Recit who demonstrates that you can influence your destiny.  It is also about the destiny of Jews. And finally the book is an eye opener to the average American: in our differences we are so much alike.  Ayse Kulin portrays Turkey as a country open to all walks of life.  To think that Turkey’s Muslim orientation does not welcome all people the same way America does is a mistake.  However, once again beware.  While Americans typically and conveniently turn a blind eye to their atrocities against Native American Indians, Kulin equally ignores their dark history with the Armenians and Kurds {read my Jan 2014 Review}. 

This book is set in a WWII time period.  It involves a prominent politically engaged family who are also devout Muslims.  At my age I still remember being a devout Catholic of the 1950/60s.  In reading this book, I found many more similarities in the meaning of devout than differences.  With regard to the story line in this book; it is about a Muslim woman and a Jewish man who marries against all family tradition and move to Paris to start a new life, only to have to escape back to Turkey.  It is to their misfortune that their new start gets foiled by Hitler’s invasion of France and the Anti Jew policy. When you tie the drama of Turkish Jews in Paris in 1940 with a religiously divided family you have the making of a family melodrama on a prime historic stage.

With regard to bigotry, in the 1940’s Americans were no better than the Turks on that subject.  I clearly remember my parents in the 1950’s making slurs on Negroes, and Arabs.  I do not know how they would have dealt with an inter-religious marriage and I am certain a black-white marriage would have at least one of my parents’ react the same way Selva’s father did when his Muslim daughter married a Jew.  And amazingly enough this book mixes the ingredients of time and space stirred in with the human drama of escaping life threatening Nazism to illustrate that experiencing the depth of desperation can glue back together a father and daughter that were divided by bigotry.  It begs the question, can society do this under less extreme circumstance than pure survival?

To add multiple dimensions of the tension the author uses Nazism, with an additional character, David, whose sole purpose is to add horror in an otherwise mundane family squabble.  This eighteen year old Jew with Turkish papers goes from happy-go-lucky to wishing he were dead and a  two months time, an eternity in a German camp.  {reference my bibliography note page 269}The book is yet another accounting of German atrocity, where no explanation justifies their black mark on a society let alone their individual actions.  It took the Turkish embassy’s efforts to extract this poor boy out of the camp.  He goes in to the camp a fit well stocked young man and comes many weeks later out an emaciated fearful old man.  This little segue ads intensity to the emotions of the people escaping Nazism on a train for Istanbul.

Then the book also captures the life of the Turkish ‘polito-crats’.  Macit, is totally consumed with government duty leaving his wife Sabiha to struggle with the depression that comes with being abandoned by her husband.  She has two close brushes with affairs.   And what impressed me was the author held her virtue in tact.  The close encounters, add a little human drama tension and keeps the reader turning the pages.  Sexual tension, one of the spices of life, weather reading it or actually experiencing it, the phenomena exists that still perplexes me.  

From the book: Suddenly his mood changes and he felt warm inside despite the drizzling rain and the cold weather.  He remembered how his wife had snuggled up to him at night he had returned form Cairo.  The way she had rekindled the fire in his body when he felt her naked breasts rubbing against his chest.  Her hot lips filled him with desire, making him feel the passion he hadn’t felt for ages.  He’d been taken aback by emotiojnal intensity between them that night.  Could it be that he had fallen in love all over again with this capricious and coy wife?

For the intrigue part, there is family drama as an undercurrent.  In Paris Selva becomes the patriarch in saving her Jewish husband.  She commands the same traits as her father who rejected her.  She not only goes to exceptional effort to save her husband, but she also brings in to her household many other Jews to make arrangements to board the Train to Istanbul.  She organizes passports, for non Turks, she teaches non Turks a little but of the Turkish language. She brings them in to her home and shelters them.  She ensures they can get on the train.  Then there is the diplomats arranging a train car and mapping its route through German territory.  They actually decide that the best route is through Berlin.  The train ride itself includes as much a story of how one lives on a train in the 1940s…that includes a little more dash of German atrocity.

Their history however is much different than ours.  In World War Two there were more countries involved than Americans, Germans, Italians and English, and French.  There is a Turkish story as well.  Time and distance allows for an American reader to see the contrasts to find our similarities.  Turks and Americans have a lot in common. Turkey’s constitution accepts all people as do Americans.  Though we both have our prejudices, they are openly criticized as opposed to being flaunted in some sort of supremacy scheme, as the Nazi’s did.   With regard to religion, divides ran deep in the 1940s in Turkey. With Americans, our prime blight was racism.   Turkish religions bigotry and American racism carried similar measures of social segregation. In my experience in Turkey these flaws do not jump out at you the way they do in the rest of the Middle East. 

It is therefore my opinion, reinforced in this book that the northern boundary of the Middle East, if selected by the trait of the people, is the Marmar Sea.  From the perspective of a 21^st century American in the august of years who has traveled the world many times over; I found this book to reinforce what I already knew in Turkish people.  They are very human in a sincere way. 

The characters:

Rafael Alfanderi: A Jew and a Pharmacist.  In a time period of the 1940’s men still wore the pants in the house.  Albeit through the course of history when the front door is closed many times the roles are reversed.  The author blends a passive man found in the clutches of life threatening horror to outwardly hand over the reigns to his destiny to his wife.

Selva Recat:  Blond and beautiful Rafael’s wife.  She is the hero of the story.  The storyline in the Turkish setting is told around her character.

Sabiha Recit:  Blond and beautiful.  In the book her character is mostly that of a victim. The storyline in the Turkish setting is told around her character.

Macit:  Sabiha’s husband and part of the cabinet making advising the PM on which side Turkey is to fall on in the war.

Fazil Resat Pasa: the politically charged father who remembers the revolution and respects Turkey’s new policy on secularism, but abhors the marriage of his Muslim daughter to a Jew.

Terik Arica: a Turkish official in the Paris embassy

Ferit:  A Turkish embassy officer in France who takes charge of the train to Istanbul. German Soldiers: Again history in this novel form records the war crimes of German soldiers doing atrocious things to Jews.  It was not just a leadership crime.  It was a large scale German crime on humanity.

Metaphors:  My bibliography marks metaphors, tools of great authors.  They convey much more than word alone.  This one below strikes the mood of the book.  The Jewish violinist, who played the piece, knew this was his swan song.  It speaks to humanity and the nature of all things to be complete That musician died on his final note.

The notes of the Paganini violin concerto flowed through the compartment like a stream rippling down a snow-covered mountain.  The adagio… it was as though the bow was playing the notes on their heartstrings, not the violin.  As the bow wandered through the chords

Bibliography:

Page 12:  He remembered the stories his war-hero father told about this darkness and the cigarette lights at night – one, two, three lights, ten lights – bodies without arms or legs, corpses without heads.  People miserable, hungry, covered in lice, like wounded, skinnt animals. Starving, abandoned children.  Women who’d lost their humanity; men who had no money, no home, and no hope.

Page 13:  Macit had contributed a lot toward the signing of the agreement with England and France in 1939.  According to that agreement, the French and the British would provide the Turkish army with its vital needs.  In return, Turkey was to sell the chrome she produced to France throughout the war.

Page 14:  One could understand a person fighting wit his bare hands to save his own country, but to fight for the British, who had stirred up the Arabs against the Turks in the First Worl War when they had their eyes set on Musul, and Kirkuk, was too much to expect.

Macit had not doubt that if, for some reason, Turkey was eventually forced to join the war, she have to foot the bill for the ambitions of the great powers.

Page 21: [metaphor]  The Germans penetrated everywhere, just like smoke.

Page 35: [metaphor]  Many young men took a shine.

Page 37:  [of Selva] She had even wished that she were a Catholic.  If she were, it would simply be a matter of confession, accepting whatever penance was meted out by the priest.  At least she would have been able to rid herself of this burden.

Page 38:  Macit was then asked to intervene.  Maybe the young rebel would listen to her brother-in-law, because she loved him very much.

“Macit, I am sure you know about the Jewish way of life.  They believe that children should follow the mother’s religion.  Can you imagine whart it would mean to them to have a daughter-in-law of a different religion?  Oh Macit, why is there all this fus?  Something that should bring joy has turned our lives into a nightmare.”

Page 42:  What a relief to be able to tell someone; what a weight off her mind.  Maybe her depression was caused from hiding the truth.  If only Macit wouldn’t stop her talking about it.  Macit behaved this way in order to stop his wife from getting upset.  What he hadn’t realized was that she needed to open the floodgates; she needed to cry, stamp, and kick to release all her pent-up tension.

Page 47:  Macit put his hand on Tarik’s shoulder. “Congratulations’,”  he said.  “ I’m sure you’ll be very successful.  Sabiha will be pleased, and sorry too.  You know she values your friendship, When are you off?  [to his new position in the Embassy in Paris]

Page  56:  “It’s fate, sir,” said the driver.  “Who knows when their number is up?”  The driver’s words sent a chill down Tarik’s spine, and yet, how typically fatalistic of a Turk.  Tarik had thought that abandoning to fate was a trait of the East, but here  this Istanbul driver thought along the same lines.

Page 63:  She [Selva]  couldn’t believe that a man [her father]she had respected and loved so much was a religious bigot.  What was all this fuss abiout religion?  Surely she thought, religion should be practiced without thought of race or color, with ceremonies carried out in mosques, churches, and synagogues.  God was worshiped in these communities, and people reached out to him and found peace in their soul.  Selva recalled the joy of Ramadan back home; the excitement of preparing the evening meals before break the fast, the special care not to miss prayers, the serenity of the order members of the household in their white headscarves before they prayed; the aura of mystery surrounding the muezzin’s call.  All these were exciting.  Yes religion was a many-spender thing; surely it should be a part of life and not used to separate people.  Couldn’t people from different religions love one another?  Oh dearest Father, she thought, is religion worth sacrificing your daughter?  Is it worth rejecting your son-in-law, just because he prays in a synagogue.

The pasa had often pointed out that the more people became interested in science, the pursuit of knowledge, and culture, the less importance they placed on religion.  He often told his daughter that most bigots or fanatics come from poor, ignorant backgrounds.

Page 69:  Not only was Rafael Alfandari no longer a Turkish Jew, he wasn’t even a French one.  Furthermore his decision not to circumcise his son had put his Jewishness in doubt.  Rafo had ended up without identity, country or religion.

Page 72:  “it isn’t possible to change your destiny, Selva.’”  “Isn’t it?”  As Rafo lowered his head to kiss Selva for the third time, he suddenly realized that he was passing the reins of their fate into Selva’s hands.

Page 75:  He was proud to be so loved by this girl he admired so much, and there was also the excitement of tasting forbidden fruit.  Many of his friends looked upon him with envy, as if her were the hero in a fairy tale.

Rafael did indeed have dignity, and that was precisely why he couldn’t give Selva up.

Page 82:  At first he was rather nervous of this elderly Ottoman gentleman who still dressed in the old style the pasa hadn’t been able to come to terms with the collapse of the empire and the fact that the sultan had been forced to run away. As far as he was concerned, the War of People living on Ottoman soil weren’t as cultured as the Europeans; they didn’t have the know-how to govern themselves.  Like most of the Ottoman pasas, Fazil Resat was a well educated man who hated fanatics.  All the same he was against being governed by those without religious authority; he was particularly against being ruled by the people.  He could never understand how cultured people, who adapted so well to modern living, could go on and on about the importance of a sultan.  Although Fazil Resat was an advocate of the sultan…

Page 83:  Although he never mentioned Selva and Rafo, he was  furious about the atrocities the Germans were inflicting on the Jews.  He was sure that one day history would judge them and they would have to pay for their injustices.

Page 84:  The British won’t be able to come to our aid if we’re attacked…”

“Well; well, just listen to them. We are expected to run to thei rescue but they won’t do the same for us.  Doesn’t still water run deep?  They have certainly mastered the art of back stabbing.”

Page 86:  “ He said, ‘as long as th German government doesn’t take measures that force Turkey to change their friendly attitude.’  Tit for tat, in other words.  Hitlet has always addressed the weaker countries harshly.  Perhaps Inonu’s proud, almost haughty, manner baffled him a bit.”

Page 101:  Didn’t you ask them why the hell they left Turkey to come here”

“No for God’s sake, how can you ask those questions at such a time?

Don’t we wish we were Europeans at times?  Don’t we envy the Europeans’ level of civilization, their knowledge, their order?  Those poor souls must have felt the same way. Well, they got up and left.  What a mistake!”

Originally, her ancestors had migrated from Spain to Istanbul in 1492.  That move was a direct result of the imperial declaration signed by the Spanish king, Don Ferdinand, and the queen Isabella, in March of that year.  It commanded the Jews – who were considered to be heretics – to leave.

 Page 106:  Ottomans sincerely greeted us and gave accommodation.  We were free to practice our religion and to speak our own language.  We were even protected from those who wanted to banish us yet again to foreign lands.

Beyazid II’s statement at the time was:   It is said that Ferdinand is a wise king.  However, the truth of the matter is that getting rid of the Jews, he has made his country poorer and mine richer.”

Page 111:  interesting, she thought, that one isn’t scared of death from a distance, but when it is staring you in the face it feels like a merciless enemy that you desperately want to avoid.

Page 120:  [ of the French]  Damn them! Thought Macit.  Damed thugs!  For years, we have considered them apostles of civilization and independence.  We have envied them and taken great pains to emulate them.  Just imagine this is the brave French nation that produced the best art, the best poetry, the best wine in the world!  What bravery?  They weren’t able to last more than forth-six days under German pressure.  The surrendered immediately!  Now they expect others to die for them to save their skin.  And if that weren’t enough, they look down on us.  Their arrogance is unbelievable!

He believed that they should protest against the Vichy government’s discrimination laws.  Surely there was no other way for an honorable country to respond. Maybe, in order to be more effective protesting the sending of Jews to labor camps, they should form a consensus with other countries.

Page 172:  Our offers go back to the fifteenth century, so I suppose you could call it traditional.  In 1492, when the Spanish Kind Ferdinand expelled the Jews from Spain and stripped them of everything they had, the Ottoman sultan offered the refuge in his country, and giving them freedom of religion, language, and commerce.  He even allocated whole districts to them.”

“Really! Why?”

“Probably he was sultan with an eye to the future.  Because of this, the Jews have been the most loyal of Ottoman subjects.  They made no attempts to stab their hosts in the back like the other minorities.”

Page 172:  “It could well be, Margot.  I don’t remember who it was that said Jews are like seeds scattered to the wind, cultivating the ground they fall upon.  It’s possible that Faith may have had similar thoughts.  And there’s something else European Christians don’t seem to understand.  We’ve never been bothered about different races and religions living among us.  We’ve never felt uncomfortable wit that, unlike Germans who claim to be pure Aryans.  For centuries has been a mosaic of different colors and creeds. Our Urfa, for instance, which was called Edessa in the olden days, was a city where both Christains and Islam flourished.

“Why do you say flourished, in passed tense?

“Since the declaration of the republic, we’ve all become more nationalistic.  Consequently the mosaic has crumbled in favor of the Turkish Muslims.  Like you, we too have had to put put our race and religion first.”

Page 180:  “Look Selva, you talk like this because you’ve never had to look death in the eye.  When your life is at stake, you have to think of yourself first, otherwise you don’t survive!”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Rafo, maybe there’s something I don’t know.  How many times have you faced death then?

“I haven’t but the fear of death is in my genes.  Death has haunted my race for thousands of years.”

“Exactly, That’s why I am struggling to save your people Rafo.”

Page 194:  The passengers had lost all notion of time; they had no idea how long they had been traveling.  All that could be heard now were th sounds of prayer.  The people continuously prayed, either aloud or to themselves, and an air of doom spread through the wagon.

Page 203:  Ferit has managed to be the go-between for his many Jewish friends and organizations, issuing passports or neutral contries.  Revently, the most sought-after passport was Turkish, because the Turks made a point of protectinf their citizens from the Gestapo.

“I wish I had the authority to answer you differently, Ferit,”  Tarik said.  “Every single person we can save from sorrow and death is a source of satisfaction for us.  But you know yourself the danger we face every time we visit one of those camps or police stations.  After all is said and done, we are an honorable and just nation, as such, can’t get involved with anything illegal.”

Page 204:  “Shall I tell you a secret my friend?”  Tarik said.  “The British and Americans can’t stand de Galle.  The can’t stomach the man at all.  Had there been someone else leading the national liberation, you might be able to get more support.

Page 205:  “Eventually the Allies will have to invade France to win the war.  When that day comes, they will have to recognize both de Gaulle and th National Liberation Committee, because without their support, they’d be unable to carry out the invasion successfully.

Page 211:  “Even the Urartu who lives in eastern Anatolia in the seventh century BC showed respect to the people whose lands they conquered, giving the freedom of faith.  I can’t understand what’s happening to the Germans, behaving in this way in the middle of the twentieth century!  Don’t get drawn into any confrontations, but of course try to do what you consider is right.”

Page 269:  [of David, the concentration camp prisoner] He had weighed sixty-five kilos when he arrives at the camp two months earlier.  Now he weighed only forty-seven.  He looked like a skeleton or a ghost walking between bare chestnut trees.  He felt nothing, neither happy nor hungry.  He wasn’t excited; he had no expectations.  It was as though he was just drifting toward the station where the train would take him home.  Who was he?  What was his heart…what of his whole being?  All he was now was a wretched number and old, very old even older than his father, whom he referred to as “old man.”  He was now 3,233 years old.

Page 305:  [metaphor] He saw his colorful and exciting early life flash before his eyes like the cascades of a waterfall.

Page 342:  [metaphor] There is a saying in Turkish, Monsieur Kohen,” said Rafo.  “he who falls into the sea will cling even to a serpent.”

Page 348:  [metaphor] The notes of the Paganini violin concerto flowed through the compartment like a stream rippling down a snow-covered mountain.

The adagio… it was as though the bow was playing the notes on their heartstrings,, not the violin.  As the bow wandered through the chords,

Page 355:  [metaphor] there is a saying we use in Turkish:  “Even the crows would laugh”

Page 357:  Waiting, escaping, hiding, and waiting again for another departure, another way out; going; going without resting; scattered to the four corners of te world, seeking refuge in every corner, struggling for survival.  Up rooting, having to go somewhere else again.  Was this the price to pay for not having a motherland?