What do you think?
Rate this book
The Dervish
The first Arab Spring: love and revolution in the air
The first Arab Spring: revolution and passion seethe and erupt in this action-packed romance during the dying days of the Ottoman Empire. Kazan’s novel takes us intimately behind the veil, to see and experience the Ottoman world,to let us view, from the “other” side, how the cultural and political antagonisms between the Occident and the Orient of the past century look. There are no easy villains or heroes in this story. Only ardent, unforgettable characters.
An American war widow seeks emotional asylum with her sister at the American Consulate in Constantinople during the Allied occupation in 1919. Through a cross-stitched pattern of synchronicity Kazan’s heroine becomes a vital thread in the fate of Mustafa Kemal (later Ataturk) and his battle for his country’s freedom. Based on firsthand accounts of the Turkish nationalist resistance, THE DERVISH details the extraordinary events that culminated in 1923 with the creation of the Republic of Turkey.
THE DERVISH is the dramatic culmination of Kazan’s acclaimed novel Halide’s Gift, the story of two sisters bound by an extraordinary friendship, and torn apart by their love of radically different men. Translated into seven languages, the novel, according to Publishers Weekly, uncovers “an Islamic world on the brink of change [that] is carefully detailed and convincing.”
The first Arab Spring: revolution and passion seethe and erupt in this action-packed romance during the dying days of the Ottoman Empire. Kazan’s novel takes us intimately behind the veil, to see and experience the Ottoman world,to let us view, from the “other” side, how the cultural and political antagonisms between the Occident and the Orient of the past century look. There are no easy villains or heroes in this story. Only ardent, unforgettable characters.
An American war widow seeks emotional asylum with her sister at the American Consulate in Constantinople during the Allied occupation in 1919. Through a cross-stitched pattern of synchronicity Kazan’s heroine becomes a vital thread in the fate of Mustafa Kemal (later Ataturk) and his battle for his country’s freedom. Based on firsthand accounts of the Turkish nationalist resistance, THE DERVISH details the extraordinary events that culminated in 1923 with the creation of the Republic of Turkey.
THE DERVISH is the dramatic culmination of Kazan’s acclaimed novel Halide’s Gift, the story of two sisters bound by an extraordinary friendship, and torn apart by their love of radically different men. Translated into seven languages, the novel, according to Publishers Weekly, uncovers “an Islamic world on the brink of change [that] is carefully detailed and convincing.”
256 pages, Hardcover
First published February 19, 2013
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews
January 27, 2013
I'll be reading a lot of books set in Turkey this year, so I was happy to receive a copy of this through NetGalley.
The Dervish tells the story of the Allied occupation of the former Ottoman Empire between the end of the first world war and 1923, when the Republic of Turkey was formed by rebels led by Mustafa Kemal, through the eyes of Mary, an American war widow who has moved to Istanbul to be with her sister.
I think this needed to be a much longer novel to successfully accomplish everything the author wanted to do. In the end, the reader gets a rushed love story with glimpses of historical background. She glances over the Armenian genocide which would have been taking place the exact time the novel is going on, especially since Mary travels through various provinces and with revolutionaries after unwittingly delivering a very important document for their cause. Some of the writing isn't great, thesaurus word choices that stick out, but these may be fixed by the time it goes to print.
I understand this was based on historical documents. I would have liked to see more of these... the best parts of the novel were when Mary is traveling with Mustafa and feeling the revolution from within. If you go outside of the novel to read more about this time period, you will see how whitewashed the events are between the pages. More realism would have made it a better novel. I realized not long into it that I was comparing it with the Alexandria Quartet by Lawrence Durrell, who successfully combines the political intrigue of an occupied country with a mysterious love story, and this just doesn't even approach that. Oh Durrell, you've ruined me to anyone else but you.
The Dervish tells the story of the Allied occupation of the former Ottoman Empire between the end of the first world war and 1923, when the Republic of Turkey was formed by rebels led by Mustafa Kemal, through the eyes of Mary, an American war widow who has moved to Istanbul to be with her sister.
I think this needed to be a much longer novel to successfully accomplish everything the author wanted to do. In the end, the reader gets a rushed love story with glimpses of historical background. She glances over the Armenian genocide which would have been taking place the exact time the novel is going on, especially since Mary travels through various provinces and with revolutionaries after unwittingly delivering a very important document for their cause. Some of the writing isn't great, thesaurus word choices that stick out, but these may be fixed by the time it goes to print.
I understand this was based on historical documents. I would have liked to see more of these... the best parts of the novel were when Mary is traveling with Mustafa and feeling the revolution from within. If you go outside of the novel to read more about this time period, you will see how whitewashed the events are between the pages. More realism would have made it a better novel. I realized not long into it that I was comparing it with the Alexandria Quartet by Lawrence Durrell, who successfully combines the political intrigue of an occupied country with a mysterious love story, and this just doesn't even approach that. Oh Durrell, you've ruined me to anyone else but you.
February 27, 2013
Review originally posted at http://eatreadexplore.wordpress.com
I love books about Turkey, especially when they’re set in Istanbul, so this in itself was already a real treat for me. The second thing that I really loved about the book is that it taught me a lot about a period that I didn’t know very much about. Last year I wrote my thesis on the Arab Revolt, but I had no idea of all the things that went on in Turkey as the last remnants of the Ottoman Empire slowly crumbled, and what it took before an independent Turkish state could be created. Amidst all this turmoil the main character Mary, an American artist, travels to Istanbul to join her sister and brother-in-law there after her husband was killed during WWI. She settles in fairly quickly and is amazed and enchanted by the wonderful city of Istanbul. But soon after her arrival she witnesses an assassination of a young Turkish man by Allied troops, and before she knows it she’s actively involved in the Turkish Nationalist Movement.
What I liked about this novel and its main character is that this isn’t a story about someone who sets out to make a difference in the world, but rather about an ordinary person who, per chance, gets involved in some extraordinary events. When the situation calls for it she proves to be anything but ordinary, but rather a very determined and courageous young woman. While the rest of the Americans prefer to stay safe within the perimeters of the American Embassy, Mary chooses to go out by herself and observe the world around her. She doesn’t care much for Embassy parties and socialising with other Westerners, but prefers to make friends with the locals. She quickly becomes friends with some of the most prominent members of the Nationalist Movement, something she didn’t know about at first, and as the fight for self-governing begins to take flight she decides to stay and fight alongside them. In all this turmoil she even manages to find love, if only for a short time.
The Dervish is a beautifully written book about love, friendship, loyalty, and the fight for freedom. I would recommend it to anyone with a fondness for Turkey, the Middle East, or history in general.
I love books about Turkey, especially when they’re set in Istanbul, so this in itself was already a real treat for me. The second thing that I really loved about the book is that it taught me a lot about a period that I didn’t know very much about. Last year I wrote my thesis on the Arab Revolt, but I had no idea of all the things that went on in Turkey as the last remnants of the Ottoman Empire slowly crumbled, and what it took before an independent Turkish state could be created. Amidst all this turmoil the main character Mary, an American artist, travels to Istanbul to join her sister and brother-in-law there after her husband was killed during WWI. She settles in fairly quickly and is amazed and enchanted by the wonderful city of Istanbul. But soon after her arrival she witnesses an assassination of a young Turkish man by Allied troops, and before she knows it she’s actively involved in the Turkish Nationalist Movement.
What I liked about this novel and its main character is that this isn’t a story about someone who sets out to make a difference in the world, but rather about an ordinary person who, per chance, gets involved in some extraordinary events. When the situation calls for it she proves to be anything but ordinary, but rather a very determined and courageous young woman. While the rest of the Americans prefer to stay safe within the perimeters of the American Embassy, Mary chooses to go out by herself and observe the world around her. She doesn’t care much for Embassy parties and socialising with other Westerners, but prefers to make friends with the locals. She quickly becomes friends with some of the most prominent members of the Nationalist Movement, something she didn’t know about at first, and as the fight for self-governing begins to take flight she decides to stay and fight alongside them. In all this turmoil she even manages to find love, if only for a short time.
The Dervish is a beautifully written book about love, friendship, loyalty, and the fight for freedom. I would recommend it to anyone with a fondness for Turkey, the Middle East, or history in general.
May 28, 2013
An interesting story that provokes interest in the real historical figures that inspired it, not least Halide Edip Adıvar, the Turkish novelist and feminist political leader.
The author Frances Kazan, clearly passionate about Ottoman/Turkish history, was married to the film director Elia Kazan who was born in Istanbul.
The Dervish is a novel about Mary, a young American widow who loses her husband in the 1st world war and decides to leave America and join her sister in Istanbul, her sister's husband works for the American consulate. The two sister's have quite different characters and sympathies, Mary quickly becoming involved in local events and supporting those involved in the Nationlist movement, lead by Ataturk, leading her into adventure, sometimes danger and surprisingly love.
An interesting insight into this turning point in history, depicted through an easy reading novel. My full review here at Word by WordWord by Word.
The author Frances Kazan, clearly passionate about Ottoman/Turkish history, was married to the film director Elia Kazan who was born in Istanbul.
The Dervish is a novel about Mary, a young American widow who loses her husband in the 1st world war and decides to leave America and join her sister in Istanbul, her sister's husband works for the American consulate. The two sister's have quite different characters and sympathies, Mary quickly becoming involved in local events and supporting those involved in the Nationlist movement, lead by Ataturk, leading her into adventure, sometimes danger and surprisingly love.
An interesting insight into this turning point in history, depicted through an easy reading novel. My full review here at Word by WordWord by Word.
December 28, 2012
Much to enjoy about this book which uses Turkey's revolt against the Sultan and the Caliphate as a backdrop. The story takes place in 1919-1922 when a young widow named Mary who's gone to Istanbul to visit her sister at the US Consulate gets embroiled in the national resistance movement. Mary is an artist, not a politician, and her status as an "impartial observer" is used by the American embassy to keep tabs on her new-found friends, including Mustafa Kemal (later known as Attaturk). Though elements of the novel are far-fetched (being stalked by a deranged British soldier) and the author's over-reliance on the foreshadowing technique (Little was I to know that ...) gets tiresome, there is a poignancy to this tale of a woman who gets caught up in a cause larger than life, including that of the man she gives her heart and soul to.
May 2, 2021
This is a work of propaganda. It devotes itself to crafting a grossly distorted picture of post-WW1 Turkey in which the population of Anatolia is racially homogeneous (which is to say, entirely Turkish) and peaceloving, and the source of all fighting and violence during the Turkish War of Independence is foreign armies greedily invading the country to carve it up into colonies for themselves. What's more, in Frances Kazan's Istanbul, every character in the book--American, Turkish, British, even those who are siding with the grasping, colonialist Allied Powers--just knows that the Turks are peaceful and blameless, and takes it for granted that any apparent Turkish violence or aggression is really the result of the British disguising their troops as Turks and using them as agents provocateurs.
Kazan doesn't need to worry about the Armenian Genocide that Turkish authorities were still prosecuting at the time the novel takes place; the Armenian Genocide couldn't have happened because in her Anatolia, Armenians apparently don't exist. There's much glee when the Turkish army beats back the French expedition that had occupied Cilicia, but what's never mentioned is that the reason for the French presence in Cilicia in the first place was to protect the Armenian survivors whom the Turks were again attempting to exterminate as they returned to their homes after being forcibly deported during the war. (Until WW1, Cilicia was in fact known as Lesser Armenia because of the ethnic makeup of its population.)
Nor is Kazan's Anatolia apparently home to any native Greeks; the only Greeks present are the soldiers of the Greek army from the Athenian kingdom on the other side of the Aegean, who land at Smyrna to begin their invasion of Turkey. (The Greek population of Istanbul is acknowledged, but not that of Anatolia.) Again and again, Kazan brings up the atrocities committed by the Greeks in their occupation of Smyrna. Riots during the Greek landing in 1919 did indeed kill around four hundred (about three hundred Turks and a hundred Greeks), with the Greek army definitely murdering Turkish civilians (just because I’m outraged at Kazan’s dishonest depiction of the Turks doesn’t mean I’m claiming the Greeks didn’t also commit atrocities). The landing at Smyrna catalysed the Turkish Nationalist movement into resisting Greece and the Allies, so it's certainly important. But she comes back again and again to reminding us of Greek crimes in Smyrna, yet never gets around to mentioning the Turks retaking Smyrna in 1922; she never gets around to mentioning the fire that burnt through the Greek and Armenian half of the city for nine days, destroying it while leaving the Turkish quarter untouched; she doesn't mention the tens of thousands of Greek and Armenian women, children and civilian men who the Turkish forces murdered, mutilated, raped or deported into the interior to be worked as slave labourers until they died. It's difficult not to conclude that Kazan wants to make sure that when you hear about the Great Fire of Smyrna and the horrors that accompany it, you associate it in your head with vindictive Greeks visiting atrocities upon defenceless Turks rather than the other way around.
Whenever an American historical character is introduced, you can always tell if they're going to be ridiculously biased in favour of the Turks because Kazan will be sure to have characters talk about how completely neutral they are. The first time this happens, it's when Admiral Bristol is introduced. Bristol, who was simultaneously American high commissioner (ambassador) in Istanbul and commodore of the US Navy's Black Sea flotilla during the novel's events, is notorious for always siding with Turkish authorities, blaming the Greek and Armenian populations in Anatolia for the violence they suffered from the Turks and going so far as to have any American newspaper coverage suppressed if he felt it wasn't sufficiently pro-Turk, in order to foster American business interests in the region. So of course, before he appears, other characters have been sure to let the protagonist know that Bristol is always neutral regarding the conflicts between Turks and Greeks.
When the missionary Annie Allen makes the ludicrous statement that "Knowing the Turkish people, I guarantee the meeting will be peaceful," when discussing the famous massive Turkish Nationalist demonstration in Sultanahmed Square, Bristol replies, "It's not the Turks I'm worried about. You know as well as I do the protest will be saturated with Allied spies." Annie Allen did indeed know the Turks; her desperate reports to Bristol about Turkish atrocities against the Armenians in Talas were among the accounts that Bristol suppressed because they didn't fit his desired narrative of Turkish virtue.
And after all that, there's also the fact that the book is very poorly written. The first paragraph of chapter one makes me suspect it had no copyeditor: Pale-faced soldiers lounged against the barrier smoking cigarettes, their half-closed eyes follow [sic] us as we hurried into the station yard. French, or were they English? I could not tell; their bland expressions gave no clue.
I just ... I'm unfamiliar with this idea of identifying a soldier's nationality through his facial expression. I'd always just assumed that if the soldiers were wearing British uniforms, they'd be from the British Army, whereas French soldiers would wear French Army uniforms. But no, apparently that's so poor an indicator that even if I see a soldier in British uniform (or French; Kazan doesn't specify, even though her protagonist, Mary, would definitely be familiar with the difference), I should be unwilling to hazard a guess at his nationality unless I can read it in his expression.
Characters in this book do not talk like human beings, and I don't just mean because they've got a peculiar aversion to contractions. When Mary whispers to her Turkish lover, during a post-coital snuggle, "Talk to me, Mustafa; say something," he replies, "Words cannot adequately express the turmoil of the human heart," which sweet nothing apparently comes out in a "sigh". Eat your hearts out, ladies.
So ... yeah. Noxiously revisionist in its storytelling, and without the beauty of prose to still make it readable.
Kazan doesn't need to worry about the Armenian Genocide that Turkish authorities were still prosecuting at the time the novel takes place; the Armenian Genocide couldn't have happened because in her Anatolia, Armenians apparently don't exist. There's much glee when the Turkish army beats back the French expedition that had occupied Cilicia, but what's never mentioned is that the reason for the French presence in Cilicia in the first place was to protect the Armenian survivors whom the Turks were again attempting to exterminate as they returned to their homes after being forcibly deported during the war. (Until WW1, Cilicia was in fact known as Lesser Armenia because of the ethnic makeup of its population.)
Nor is Kazan's Anatolia apparently home to any native Greeks; the only Greeks present are the soldiers of the Greek army from the Athenian kingdom on the other side of the Aegean, who land at Smyrna to begin their invasion of Turkey. (The Greek population of Istanbul is acknowledged, but not that of Anatolia.) Again and again, Kazan brings up the atrocities committed by the Greeks in their occupation of Smyrna. Riots during the Greek landing in 1919 did indeed kill around four hundred (about three hundred Turks and a hundred Greeks), with the Greek army definitely murdering Turkish civilians (just because I’m outraged at Kazan’s dishonest depiction of the Turks doesn’t mean I’m claiming the Greeks didn’t also commit atrocities). The landing at Smyrna catalysed the Turkish Nationalist movement into resisting Greece and the Allies, so it's certainly important. But she comes back again and again to reminding us of Greek crimes in Smyrna, yet never gets around to mentioning the Turks retaking Smyrna in 1922; she never gets around to mentioning the fire that burnt through the Greek and Armenian half of the city for nine days, destroying it while leaving the Turkish quarter untouched; she doesn't mention the tens of thousands of Greek and Armenian women, children and civilian men who the Turkish forces murdered, mutilated, raped or deported into the interior to be worked as slave labourers until they died. It's difficult not to conclude that Kazan wants to make sure that when you hear about the Great Fire of Smyrna and the horrors that accompany it, you associate it in your head with vindictive Greeks visiting atrocities upon defenceless Turks rather than the other way around.
Whenever an American historical character is introduced, you can always tell if they're going to be ridiculously biased in favour of the Turks because Kazan will be sure to have characters talk about how completely neutral they are. The first time this happens, it's when Admiral Bristol is introduced. Bristol, who was simultaneously American high commissioner (ambassador) in Istanbul and commodore of the US Navy's Black Sea flotilla during the novel's events, is notorious for always siding with Turkish authorities, blaming the Greek and Armenian populations in Anatolia for the violence they suffered from the Turks and going so far as to have any American newspaper coverage suppressed if he felt it wasn't sufficiently pro-Turk, in order to foster American business interests in the region. So of course, before he appears, other characters have been sure to let the protagonist know that Bristol is always neutral regarding the conflicts between Turks and Greeks.
When the missionary Annie Allen makes the ludicrous statement that "Knowing the Turkish people, I guarantee the meeting will be peaceful," when discussing the famous massive Turkish Nationalist demonstration in Sultanahmed Square, Bristol replies, "It's not the Turks I'm worried about. You know as well as I do the protest will be saturated with Allied spies." Annie Allen did indeed know the Turks; her desperate reports to Bristol about Turkish atrocities against the Armenians in Talas were among the accounts that Bristol suppressed because they didn't fit his desired narrative of Turkish virtue.
And after all that, there's also the fact that the book is very poorly written. The first paragraph of chapter one makes me suspect it had no copyeditor: Pale-faced soldiers lounged against the barrier smoking cigarettes, their half-closed eyes follow [sic] us as we hurried into the station yard. French, or were they English? I could not tell; their bland expressions gave no clue.
I just ... I'm unfamiliar with this idea of identifying a soldier's nationality through his facial expression. I'd always just assumed that if the soldiers were wearing British uniforms, they'd be from the British Army, whereas French soldiers would wear French Army uniforms. But no, apparently that's so poor an indicator that even if I see a soldier in British uniform (or French; Kazan doesn't specify, even though her protagonist, Mary, would definitely be familiar with the difference), I should be unwilling to hazard a guess at his nationality unless I can read it in his expression.
Characters in this book do not talk like human beings, and I don't just mean because they've got a peculiar aversion to contractions. When Mary whispers to her Turkish lover, during a post-coital snuggle, "Talk to me, Mustafa; say something," he replies, "Words cannot adequately express the turmoil of the human heart," which sweet nothing apparently comes out in a "sigh". Eat your hearts out, ladies.
So ... yeah. Noxiously revisionist in its storytelling, and without the beauty of prose to still make it readable.
July 8, 2015
I’m having trouble writing this review not because I didn’t like the book, because I absolutely did, but because it’s a non-traditional narrative and so conveying the essence of The Dervish is complicated. Though I haven’t read it in forever, The Dervish brought to mind A Passage to India. These two books both show a different culture through Western eyes, but not through the objective observer so much as through an innocent, ignorant, perspective that becomes entranced first with the flashing colors and then with the strong spirits beneath those brilliant shades.
The Dervish tells of an American artist who finds her second life in the ruins of the Ottoman Empire immediately after World War 1, which tore her first love from her to bury him in a French military graveyard among a million crosses. She journeys to Istanbul to stay with her sister, who invites her though they’ve grown apart as their lives took different directions. Instead of becoming absorbed in the ex-patriot/diplomatic circles and parties, Mary is entranced by the people and the place around her, seeing first the beauty of ancient architecture that whispers of times gone by and then the tension left after the war, a tension only worsened by contradictory treaties during the war that gave rights over this land to a variety of Allies, claims that have roots, if any, in the far distant past. The Turks find themselves unwanted in their own land, their inheritance subject to the fighting of dogs over a bone.
America stands outside all of this simply because it has no claim, but sympathies for the beleaguered Turks run through many hearts, even those at the highest level of the U.S. Embassy.
The novel throws you into a convoluted political, military, and social situation where loyalty and conscience come at a high price.
Mary begins in ignorance, exploring far and wide without consideration for the danger. She accepts the necessity of dressing like a native so she doesn’t stand out as a target only because it enables her sketches to capture the true nature of those around her. But her blissful state is soon shattered in the most horrific way as she cannot turn aside the pleas of a young Turk who at first thinks she’s one of them and then has no choice, the British soldiers almost upon him. That decision, and what happens next, sets her on a path to another life filled with confusion and treacherous roads, and yet one that helps her understand the Nationalist cause and her own convictions as nothing ever has before.
It’s a powerful book with many types of love, faith, and moments of realization. At the same time, it’s an easy read with the words flowing over you so that before you know it you’ve reached the end and are left to ponder the many things this book reveals about the end of the First World War, the treatment of the vanquished (especially those who had neither the power nor the ability to make any of the decisions that led to this moment), and the relationship between the various Allied Forces.
Mary’s artistic eye offers a clear vision into the heart of this time and the people involved, while her status as an American gives her a glimpse into the state of an outsider even among friends. Which doesn’t even touch on the odd position she’s placed in, a voice of a people with whom she cannot share a simple conversation in their native tongue. The friendships and connections she makes, the way she becomes part of that world even while being held apart, is all very powerful and evocative.
For a moment, I’m going to step outside of the story and look at it from a writing perspective because I think there are some lessons to be had and a cautionary tale (though this is the arc and not the final copy I’m reading, I doubt these aspects will change). I’m not one of those who opposes prologues out of hand. However, in this case, I understand why people might develop such a stance.
The prologue serves two purposes in the book: it sets up the story as a narrative told looking back–preparing the reader for the rare, but noticeable, narrator intrusion–and it gives a short history lesson to ground the reader in the time period for the book. Honestly, I think the grounding would have been better blended into the story itself instead of a flood of information about the war, a lot of which did not turn out to be relevant for any purpose but to set the background for the Allied Forces’ presence and intent to destroy the Ottoman Empire. As to the story frame, again here I don’t think it was necessary to support the few narrator intrusions (which worked in the moment), and it served to distance the terrible dangers Mary faces because she’s not only a first person narrator, but we know she survives because we’ve “met” her future self.
So, with the caution that if you’re the type to skip a prologue, as I am not, it might be worth skipping this one, and especially, do not choose whether to read this book based on the prologue as it holds little of the strength of the novel, I recommend The Dervish thoroughly. While I received my copy through NetGalley, I will keep an eye out for other works by Kazan based on her ability to bring the Turks and their world at such a crucial time to life.
The Dervish tells of an American artist who finds her second life in the ruins of the Ottoman Empire immediately after World War 1, which tore her first love from her to bury him in a French military graveyard among a million crosses. She journeys to Istanbul to stay with her sister, who invites her though they’ve grown apart as their lives took different directions. Instead of becoming absorbed in the ex-patriot/diplomatic circles and parties, Mary is entranced by the people and the place around her, seeing first the beauty of ancient architecture that whispers of times gone by and then the tension left after the war, a tension only worsened by contradictory treaties during the war that gave rights over this land to a variety of Allies, claims that have roots, if any, in the far distant past. The Turks find themselves unwanted in their own land, their inheritance subject to the fighting of dogs over a bone.
America stands outside all of this simply because it has no claim, but sympathies for the beleaguered Turks run through many hearts, even those at the highest level of the U.S. Embassy.
The novel throws you into a convoluted political, military, and social situation where loyalty and conscience come at a high price.
Mary begins in ignorance, exploring far and wide without consideration for the danger. She accepts the necessity of dressing like a native so she doesn’t stand out as a target only because it enables her sketches to capture the true nature of those around her. But her blissful state is soon shattered in the most horrific way as she cannot turn aside the pleas of a young Turk who at first thinks she’s one of them and then has no choice, the British soldiers almost upon him. That decision, and what happens next, sets her on a path to another life filled with confusion and treacherous roads, and yet one that helps her understand the Nationalist cause and her own convictions as nothing ever has before.
It’s a powerful book with many types of love, faith, and moments of realization. At the same time, it’s an easy read with the words flowing over you so that before you know it you’ve reached the end and are left to ponder the many things this book reveals about the end of the First World War, the treatment of the vanquished (especially those who had neither the power nor the ability to make any of the decisions that led to this moment), and the relationship between the various Allied Forces.
Mary’s artistic eye offers a clear vision into the heart of this time and the people involved, while her status as an American gives her a glimpse into the state of an outsider even among friends. Which doesn’t even touch on the odd position she’s placed in, a voice of a people with whom she cannot share a simple conversation in their native tongue. The friendships and connections she makes, the way she becomes part of that world even while being held apart, is all very powerful and evocative.
For a moment, I’m going to step outside of the story and look at it from a writing perspective because I think there are some lessons to be had and a cautionary tale (though this is the arc and not the final copy I’m reading, I doubt these aspects will change). I’m not one of those who opposes prologues out of hand. However, in this case, I understand why people might develop such a stance.
The prologue serves two purposes in the book: it sets up the story as a narrative told looking back–preparing the reader for the rare, but noticeable, narrator intrusion–and it gives a short history lesson to ground the reader in the time period for the book. Honestly, I think the grounding would have been better blended into the story itself instead of a flood of information about the war, a lot of which did not turn out to be relevant for any purpose but to set the background for the Allied Forces’ presence and intent to destroy the Ottoman Empire. As to the story frame, again here I don’t think it was necessary to support the few narrator intrusions (which worked in the moment), and it served to distance the terrible dangers Mary faces because she’s not only a first person narrator, but we know she survives because we’ve “met” her future self.
So, with the caution that if you’re the type to skip a prologue, as I am not, it might be worth skipping this one, and especially, do not choose whether to read this book based on the prologue as it holds little of the strength of the novel, I recommend The Dervish thoroughly. While I received my copy through NetGalley, I will keep an eye out for other works by Kazan based on her ability to bring the Turks and their world at such a crucial time to life.
March 6, 2013
Frances Kazan bases her historical novel on a fairly well-known period of history–post World War I, but it concerns Turkey–whose history is not widely known in the West. Because Kazan has devoted years to the study of Turkish history, and has written an academic book about Halide Edip, a woman who played a key role in Turkey’s Nationalism movement, the reader will learn the actual details of the struggles between Allied powers, Greeks and Turks as modern Turkey took shape and the Ottoman Empire ended.
However, have no fear that The Dervish comes overloaded with facts at the cost of an interesting story. Kazan has skillfully built a plot full of suspense and romance, as well as one that every traveler will love for the detailed descriptions of place and customs. Nevertheless, the novel has a strong point of view, championing the Turks, so do not expect an objective report on the differences between Turkey and Greece, or power struggles between British and Americans, for instance. (Warning, British readers–your country does not come off well!)
I have only a few quibbles with the way the story is told. It starts with a Preface, which seems an unnecessary crutch and actually rather old-fashioned. The narrator (Mary, an American woman who joins in the Nationalist movement in Turkey) lays out the reasons for writing her ‘memoir,’ a device that reminds me of the Victorian fondness for “discovered” manuscripts. Similarly, the novel seemed to end awkwardly–with sudden summing up of events, history mixed with the novel’s own stories, rather than a more simple choice of ending. I found the finale of Mary’s Turkish romance to be particularly unsatisfactory and abrupt.
A mark of an inexperienced novelist–although she is clearly a talented writer, this is her first novel–Kazan drops in sentences frequently that are meant to build suspense. Again, this gives a rather old-fashioned air, as when the narrator says things like, “Little did I know the situation was about to become more complicated.” I would dub that melodrama rather than the drama that the writer probably means to convey.
Nevertheless, it is a gripping story that will pull you through to learn how Mary survives. (No suspense about “if” she survives, since she is telling us the story.) And if you like, as I do, to learn the inside story of historic events, this book will certainly fill you in on the end of the Ottoman empire.
This review is excerpted from the review I wrote at A Traveler's Library. You can read the entire review here.
However, have no fear that The Dervish comes overloaded with facts at the cost of an interesting story. Kazan has skillfully built a plot full of suspense and romance, as well as one that every traveler will love for the detailed descriptions of place and customs. Nevertheless, the novel has a strong point of view, championing the Turks, so do not expect an objective report on the differences between Turkey and Greece, or power struggles between British and Americans, for instance. (Warning, British readers–your country does not come off well!)
I have only a few quibbles with the way the story is told. It starts with a Preface, which seems an unnecessary crutch and actually rather old-fashioned. The narrator (Mary, an American woman who joins in the Nationalist movement in Turkey) lays out the reasons for writing her ‘memoir,’ a device that reminds me of the Victorian fondness for “discovered” manuscripts. Similarly, the novel seemed to end awkwardly–with sudden summing up of events, history mixed with the novel’s own stories, rather than a more simple choice of ending. I found the finale of Mary’s Turkish romance to be particularly unsatisfactory and abrupt.
A mark of an inexperienced novelist–although she is clearly a talented writer, this is her first novel–Kazan drops in sentences frequently that are meant to build suspense. Again, this gives a rather old-fashioned air, as when the narrator says things like, “Little did I know the situation was about to become more complicated.” I would dub that melodrama rather than the drama that the writer probably means to convey.
Nevertheless, it is a gripping story that will pull you through to learn how Mary survives. (No suspense about “if” she survives, since she is telling us the story.) And if you like, as I do, to learn the inside story of historic events, this book will certainly fill you in on the end of the Ottoman empire.
This review is excerpted from the review I wrote at A Traveler's Library. You can read the entire review here.
November 26, 2012
There are three tacks an author can take in writing historical fiction (not mutually exclusive). She can insert herself into the cracks of the historical record, freely inserting words into the mouths of historical movers and shakers at the turning points of history. She use the novel as a vehicle to teach a history lesson. Or she can use a particular place and time as a backdrop to tell a story. The first is an abomination. The second tries to do something better done by a history book. The third can both give us a richer view of life at a particular time and place and spur our interest in it.
Kazan leans heavily toward that approach. The Dervish tells the story of one American woman’s time in Turkey between the end of WWI and Turkish Independence (the titular dervishes become a muse of our artistic protagonist, not otherwise playing a role in the story). Freshly widowed by WWI, Mary joins her sister, who is married to a diplomat, in a Constantinople occupied by the Allies in search of emotional relief. Once there, the naïve artist quickly falls in with Halide (the historical figure, and I believe the same Halide from Kazan’s earlier book, although I have not read it) and the nascent Turkish nationalist movement.
Kazan’s prose has a beauty to it and captures well the beauty of the Turkish people and country and movement (the cover art suits it), although it has a curiously halting pace. Kazan’s characters are richly drawn, with the partial exception of Mary, who is a bit of a cipher. Her personal struggle deserves its own story, but it eventually takes a backseat to the Turkish War of Independence. However, it does facilitates the reader’s immersion in her story. The British are just a bit too uniformly brutish and ill intentioned; the Turkish and the Americans are just a bit too noble. Disappointingly, the Armenian genocide gets no more than a throwaway mention. Given the timeframe, location, and characters of the story, even given that this is just the story of one American woman, an atrocity on that level deserves more attention (we do see White Russian refugees fleeing the Bolsheviks).
Disclosure: I received an advance e-copy of The Dervish through NetGalley.
Kazan leans heavily toward that approach. The Dervish tells the story of one American woman’s time in Turkey between the end of WWI and Turkish Independence (the titular dervishes become a muse of our artistic protagonist, not otherwise playing a role in the story). Freshly widowed by WWI, Mary joins her sister, who is married to a diplomat, in a Constantinople occupied by the Allies in search of emotional relief. Once there, the naïve artist quickly falls in with Halide (the historical figure, and I believe the same Halide from Kazan’s earlier book, although I have not read it) and the nascent Turkish nationalist movement.
Kazan’s prose has a beauty to it and captures well the beauty of the Turkish people and country and movement (the cover art suits it), although it has a curiously halting pace. Kazan’s characters are richly drawn, with the partial exception of Mary, who is a bit of a cipher. Her personal struggle deserves its own story, but it eventually takes a backseat to the Turkish War of Independence. However, it does facilitates the reader’s immersion in her story. The British are just a bit too uniformly brutish and ill intentioned; the Turkish and the Americans are just a bit too noble. Disappointingly, the Armenian genocide gets no more than a throwaway mention. Given the timeframe, location, and characters of the story, even given that this is just the story of one American woman, an atrocity on that level deserves more attention (we do see White Russian refugees fleeing the Bolsheviks).
Disclosure: I received an advance e-copy of The Dervish through NetGalley.
November 17, 2012
A beautiful and thought-provoking story filled of hope, determination, and love. “The Dervish” by Frances Kazan is set right after WWI in Turkey amongst the turmoil of the falling Ottoman Empire. Distraught at the death of her husband, Mary travels half-way across the world to try to heal the grief over her loss. Not long after reaching her sister, whose husband works at the American Consulate, Mary has first-hand encounters with the rebellion brewing amongst the citizens. A chance encounter with a woman, and a small case of mistaken identity, throws Mary into the battle for Turkey’s freedom.
This book was a very enjoyable read, the main character’s perspective of the tumultuous situation in Turkey is well-written, and makes it difficult to pick a side in the revolution, which I think it is point the writer is trying to make. Nothing is clear-cut, right and wrong. The descriptions are marvelous; it makes you feel like you are walking the streets, breathing the spiced air.
My only problem with this book, and it isn’t a big issue, is how quickly the main character falls in love. There was no development, I guess it was a kind of love-at-first site thing, but I would have liked to read a little more development before she falls head-over-heels for someone.
I highly recommend this book for anyone interested in this region of the world, who likes period novels, and who likes some adventure!
A copy of this book was provided to me for my honest opinion.
This book was a very enjoyable read, the main character’s perspective of the tumultuous situation in Turkey is well-written, and makes it difficult to pick a side in the revolution, which I think it is point the writer is trying to make. Nothing is clear-cut, right and wrong. The descriptions are marvelous; it makes you feel like you are walking the streets, breathing the spiced air.
My only problem with this book, and it isn’t a big issue, is how quickly the main character falls in love. There was no development, I guess it was a kind of love-at-first site thing, but I would have liked to read a little more development before she falls head-over-heels for someone.
I highly recommend this book for anyone interested in this region of the world, who likes period novels, and who likes some adventure!
A copy of this book was provided to me for my honest opinion.
February 17, 2013
Kazan's novel, which takes place during the same era as Downton Abbey, weaves the history of the founding of the modern Turkish republic with the story of an American artist, Mary Di Benedetti, a war-widow who gets drawn into the nationalist fight when a young Turkish man thrusts a bundle of papers into her hands moments before he is a killed by an occupying British soldier. Slowly she builds friendships with Turks, falls in love and gets drawn into the Turkish nationalist movement.
Many times historical details overwhelm the plot of the story, but because of my interest in Turkey, I found the book hard to put down. Most of what I've read about this period follows the movements of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk; I was fascinated to learn about the involvement and struggles of many others rebelling against both the old Ottoman order and the occupying allied forces. This review is based on a pre-publication galley. I hope in the final work the author includes a historical note to help readers separate fact from fiction.
Highly recommend to those interested in Turkey, as well as Downton Abbey fans wanting an international perspective on the post-World War I era.
Many times historical details overwhelm the plot of the story, but because of my interest in Turkey, I found the book hard to put down. Most of what I've read about this period follows the movements of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk; I was fascinated to learn about the involvement and struggles of many others rebelling against both the old Ottoman order and the occupying allied forces. This review is based on a pre-publication galley. I hope in the final work the author includes a historical note to help readers separate fact from fiction.
Highly recommend to those interested in Turkey, as well as Downton Abbey fans wanting an international perspective on the post-World War I era.
April 23, 2013
The Dervish tells of events leading up to the creation of the Republic of Turkey through the eyes of a Western artist named Mary Di Benedetti. There are a lot of historical details mentioned in the book. Having recently taken an online course on world history, it was interesting to me to see names I recognized from my class appear as characters in this novel. The descriptions of various places in the Ottoman Empire made the setting come alive for me.
Despite this (or perhaps in a way because of it), I didn’t fully connect to the characters and plot. There’s a lot of action and suspense, as Mary is intimately involved in pivotal events and constantly in danger. Some of it had me eager to find out what happened next, but sometimes the pace lagged and I got lost in the details. Mary has love and grief to deal with. I felt like the grief was handled well, but the love could have been left out and the story might have been stronger.
Disclaimer: I received an ARC copy through Netgalley
Despite this (or perhaps in a way because of it), I didn’t fully connect to the characters and plot. There’s a lot of action and suspense, as Mary is intimately involved in pivotal events and constantly in danger. Some of it had me eager to find out what happened next, but sometimes the pace lagged and I got lost in the details. Mary has love and grief to deal with. I felt like the grief was handled well, but the love could have been left out and the story might have been stronger.
Disclaimer: I received an ARC copy through Netgalley
January 27, 2014
A young war widow goes to Constantinople to be with her sister. Her brother in law is with the American Consulate. Mary, the young widow is an artist, so she wants to immerse herself into the culture. But she finds she has to be cautious around the local people.
Everything is changing, Islamic turmoil is starting, political power struggles. Mary gets caught up in the middle of this intriguing life, even becoming a somewhat unrelenting spy.
The author (who was married to Elia Kazan who was born in Istanbul) knows a lot of the country & it's history. The historical parts were very interesting, altho sometimes a little too involved. But I guess you have to know the situation. Sometimes it took away from the story of Mary. I will have to get a history book now to read up some more about Turkey & the Ottomans & the Turkish Nationalist movement & all the culture.
Everything is changing, Islamic turmoil is starting, political power struggles. Mary gets caught up in the middle of this intriguing life, even becoming a somewhat unrelenting spy.
The author (who was married to Elia Kazan who was born in Istanbul) knows a lot of the country & it's history. The historical parts were very interesting, altho sometimes a little too involved. But I guess you have to know the situation. Sometimes it took away from the story of Mary. I will have to get a history book now to read up some more about Turkey & the Ottomans & the Turkish Nationalist movement & all the culture.
February 20, 2013
Please note: The U.S. book cover differs from this one but that cover isn't available on GoodReads.
I always want to learn more about other cultures and often think fiction is an excellent way to explore them. I believe what drew me to The Dervish by Frances Kazan was my quest to learn more about whirling dervishes, which have fascinated me since I first heard about them.
What kept me captivated instead was a beautifully written story about the Turkish culture during the last days of the Ottoman Empire. If you like historical novels, adventure stories, cross-cultural novels, or novels filled with political intrigue then this one just might appeal to you as well. Read the rest of my review at http://popcornreads.com/?p=5476.
I always want to learn more about other cultures and often think fiction is an excellent way to explore them. I believe what drew me to The Dervish by Frances Kazan was my quest to learn more about whirling dervishes, which have fascinated me since I first heard about them.
What kept me captivated instead was a beautifully written story about the Turkish culture during the last days of the Ottoman Empire. If you like historical novels, adventure stories, cross-cultural novels, or novels filled with political intrigue then this one just might appeal to you as well. Read the rest of my review at http://popcornreads.com/?p=5476.
July 30, 2013
Set in the exotic, tension-filled atmosphere of post-World War One Turkey, this book tells the exciting tale of a young American woman who becomes involved in the nationalist struggle and falls in love.
Mary, a very modern widow from New York follows her sister to Istanbul to try to find a new life. When she sees a young man cruelly shot by Allied soldiers and meets Halide, she starts to help with the nationalist cause. She discovers that this is a very different world from New York, and when she falls in love with the leader, Mustafa Kemal, she wonders whether she can cope.
Beautiful and loving descriptions of Istanbul, an exciting, mystey-filled story and sympathetic characters make this a wonderful read set in an unusual time and place.
Mary, a very modern widow from New York follows her sister to Istanbul to try to find a new life. When she sees a young man cruelly shot by Allied soldiers and meets Halide, she starts to help with the nationalist cause. She discovers that this is a very different world from New York, and when she falls in love with the leader, Mustafa Kemal, she wonders whether she can cope.
Beautiful and loving descriptions of Istanbul, an exciting, mystey-filled story and sympathetic characters make this a wonderful read set in an unusual time and place.
February 13, 2013
Going on with my world tour of 52 countries started last year, I just visited Turkey with The Dervish.
Once again, I got caught by the format of the book (letter, with memories) and the intensity of the historical events, so that I had to go back and check if this was fiction or nonfiction.
The story is set on the background of an essential time in Turkey history: just after World War I, with the Allies disastrous tries to cut the country into pieces, the conflict between the Turks and the Greeks (in Smyrna), and the Nationalist Movement (with Mustafa Kemal).
The author translates with passion the....
full review here:
http://wordsandpeace.com/2013/02/13/b...
Once again, I got caught by the format of the book (letter, with memories) and the intensity of the historical events, so that I had to go back and check if this was fiction or nonfiction.
The story is set on the background of an essential time in Turkey history: just after World War I, with the Allies disastrous tries to cut the country into pieces, the conflict between the Turks and the Greeks (in Smyrna), and the Nationalist Movement (with Mustafa Kemal).
The author translates with passion the....
full review here:
http://wordsandpeace.com/2013/02/13/b...
May 13, 2014
This story is set in Turkey's recent past, during the turbulent years of the early 1920s and the fight to create the Republic of Turkey. Written from the viewpoint of an American woman who sympathises with the cause, it is very informative, evocative of old Istanbul and to one who has lived there, conjures up vivid images of that wonderful city.
Although I hadn't read the first book by Frances Kazan, 'Halide's Gift', which preceded this, I am looking forward to reading this too.
Reviewed in exchange for a preview Kindle copy.
http://ebookproofreader.wordpress.com/
Although I hadn't read the first book by Frances Kazan, 'Halide's Gift', which preceded this, I am looking forward to reading this too.
Reviewed in exchange for a preview Kindle copy.
http://ebookproofreader.wordpress.com/
June 6, 2013
I tried. Kazan clearly knows A LOT about ottoman and Turkish history, but...if I wanted only that I'd reach for my history books. Will try to plough through, but the characters seem so disconnected and relationships seem built on flimsy interactions. All very surface level so far.
June 12, 2013
This story begins in Turkey in 1919. And it tells the events that culminate in 1923 with the creation of the Republic of Turkey through the eyes of Mary Di Benedetti an American war widow who is in Turkey with her sister at the American consulate
April 15, 2013
inert and repetitive. endless descriptions of feelings that had been "buried" or "dead", followed by dry historical/political passages. wanted to pull my hair out around halfway through.
Displaying 1 - 19 of 19 reviews