In the meantime

The promised and much appreciated Pamuk essay is still missing in action, but have come upon some other nuggets to get your eyes around in the meantime. First http://www.nybooks.com/articles/18991 is Pamuk’s “Pen Arthur Miller Freedom to Write lecture” which amongst other things mentions Pinter and Istanbul traffic.

<p> Also, http://www.iht.com/articles/2006/07/28/opinion/edpamuk.php this piece has a wonderful part:

In the 1970s, when my mother asked, “Who are you writing for?” her mournful and compassionate tone told me she was really asking, “How are you planning to support yourself?”

okay so, this part about the mother I fathom, (“roger Mrs Pamuk”) I’m a mother and mother’s often say unhelpful things to their offspring. Today my first born reminded me “it’s not fair you get to chose pillows.” He has a point. It’s taken thirty-five years and numerous disappointments, but the height of my privilege includes choosing a pillow.

The next bit however…

When friends asked me who I wrote for, they were mockingly suggesting that no one would ever want to read a book by someone like me

Jaysus, well not sure if he’s still running with that gang but they may not be getting the invite to come over for the Nobel prize tea-party. Most incredibly, how did the man manage to persist in writing his books. Bad and all as it is, one expects one’s family to take a dim view on most pursuits sauf say gardening or jobs with pensions but your friends, amigos. Lordacious indeed. Given most writers spend life indoors one can only hope the mockingly suggestive encounters were minimized by the 10 hours a day at the desk which you’ll be able to read about once I locate the link to that blessed article I rambled about earlier.