Madonna w futrze

by Sabahattin Ali, Piotr Beza (Translator)

Fascynująca historia miłosna, ale i tragiczna historia człowieka nieprzystosowanego do życia w społeczeństwie

Lata dwudzieste XX wieku. Młody Turek przyjeżdża na naukę zawodu do Berlina. Na wystawie malarstwa wielkie wrażenie wywiera na nim autoportret młodej niemieckiej artystki, zadziwiająco podobny do Madonny z obrazu renesansowego mistrza. Pewnego dnia poznaje jego autorkę. Tak zaczyna się jedna z najpiękniejszych, najbardziej autentycznych historii miłosnych w nowoczesnej literaturze tureckiej.

Wywodzący się z innej kultury, bezstronny obserwator w mistrzowski sposób odmalowuje burzliwą atmosferę Niemiec, które liżą powojenne rany. Udaje mu się uchwycić nastroje i rozmowy berlińskiej ulicy, a także stworzyć wyrazistych bohaterów.

To proza, która oddaje nastrój tamtej epoki równie znakomicie jak utwory Ericha Marii Remarque'a.

źródło: www.rebis.com.pl

Genres: Classics, Fiction, Romance, Turkish Literature, Turkish, Historical Fiction, Literary Fiction

248 pages, Unknown Binding

First published March 1, 1943

About the author

Sabahattin Ali (February 25, 1907 – April 2, 1948) was a Turkish novelist, short-story writer, poet, and journalist.

He was born in 1907 in Eğridere township (now Ardino in southern Bulgaria) of the Sanjak of Gümülcine (now Komotini in northern Greece), in the Ottoman Empire. He lived in Istanbul, Çanakkale and Edremit before he entered the School of Education in Balıkesir. Then, he was transferred to the School of Education in Istanbul, where he graduated in 1926. After serving as a teacher in Yozgat for one year, he earned a fellowship from the Ministry of National Education and studied in Germany from 1928 to 1930. When he returned to Turkey, he taught German language in high schools at Aydın and Konya.

While he was serving as a teacher in Konya, he was arrested for a poem he wrote criticizing Atatürk's policies, and accused of libelling two other journalists. Having served his sentence for several months in Konya and then in the Sinop Fortress Prison, he was released in 1933 in an amnesty granted to mark the 10th anniversary of the declaration of the Republic of Turkey. He then applied to the Ministry of National Education for permission to teach again. After proving his allegiance to Atatürk by writing the poem "Benim Aşkım" (literally: My Love or My Passion), he was assigned to the publications division at the Ministry of National Education. Sabahattin Ali married on May 16, 1935 and did his military service in 1936. He was imprisoned again and released in 1944. He also owned and edited a popular weekly newspaper called "Marko Paşa" (pronounced "Marco Pasha"), together with Aziz Nesin.

Upon his release from prison, he suffered financial troubles. His application for a passport was denied. He was killed at the Bulgarian border, probably on 1 or 2 April 1948. His body was found on June 16, 1948. It is generally believed that he was killed by Ali Ertekin, a smuggler with connections to the National Security Service, who had been paid to help him pass the border.[2] Another hypothesis is that Ertekin handed him over to the security services, and he was killed during interrogation. It is believed he was killed because of his political opinions.

Sabahattin Ali's 100th birth anniversary was celebrated in Bulgarian city Ardino in March 31, 2007. Ali is a well-known author in this country because his books have been read in schools in Bulgaria since 1950s.

Reviews

[Jack Edwards · Rating 5 out of 5]

you think you know YEARNING and then you read madonna in a fur coat!!!!!!!!!!! you think you know THE FLEETING NATURE OF HAPPINESS and then you read madonna in a fur coat!!!!!!!!!!! you think you know UNREQUITED LOVE and then you read madonna in a fur coat!!!!!!!!!!!

[Ashley (semi-ia, exam szn) · Rating 5 out of 5]

DID I FINISH THIS OR DID IT FINISH ME? it’s time to take a break from being a hater!

“I felt such a fresh longing for her at that moment that we might have parted only yesterday. The pain of losing something precious - be it earthly happiness or material wealth - can be forgotten over time. But our missed opportunities never leave us, and every time they come back to haunt us, we ache. Or perhaps what haunts us is that nagging thought that things might have turned out differently. Because without that thought, we would put it down to fate and accept it.”

lives were changed. i will never be the same again. this book has my heart forever. MY FIRST FIVE STAR OF THE YEAR. jack edwards, that one ig reel, and cheska, i love you. the ig reel said this book was for cynics who still believe in soulmates but also heartbreak, and that is so painfully accurate. this book deserves all the stars in the world, and i shall defend it with my life. every single aspect of this compelling and immersive book is exceedingly perfect. be aware that this is NOT a romance!!

“Never before had I felt such happiness. I could feel my heart opening, as if for the first time. How was it that a person could bring such happiness to another without really doing anything at all? A friendly greeting, an innocent smile... and at that moment I wanted nothing else. I was the richest man in the world. As my eyes followed her around the room, I murmured to myself, ‘Thank you... thank you so much.’”

let me preface this by saying i’m not an emotional reader. though my eyes have gotten watery, i’ve never cried/shed a tear at all reading a book. not babel, not OEWBG (surprisingly so but it almost did and maybe will in the future), not white nights, and so on, UNTIL NOW. this had me quite literally staring at my wall for 10 minutes, screaming, crying, and rocking back and forth. MY HEART PHYSICALLY HURT, and i’m not being dramatic this time. this is the most you can get when you ask for melancholy and yearning. this hurt more than white nights, and that was immensely heartbreaking. this awoke something dormant inside me.

“For a brief while, a woman had pulled me out of listless lethargy; she had taught me that I was a man, or rather, a human being; she had shown me that the world was not as absurd as I had previously thought and that I had the capacity for joy. But from the moment we lost touch, I lost the benefit of her influence. I went back to my old ways.”

i’ve always seen white nights as the pinnacle of yearning—a story about a lonely, alienated dreamer, who is reminded that that happiness is ephemeral and connection is also fleeting—that some people are just meant to pass through our lives rather than stay for a while. madonna in a fur coat takes those same themes, and it's kind of like a retelling, but for me, it dialed up the intensity, the melancholy as i said, and the devastation. hence, i thought white nights was made for me, and i still do, but i believe this was made for me even more? if that’s even possible? sabahattin ali where have you been all my life?

“She had swept me away from my dark and silent world, delivering me to the land of truth and light. And now she had vanished, offering no reasons, and as suddenly as she'd come. But for me there was no hope of sinking back into my old torpor.”

madonna in a fur coat is about alienation, yearning, missed opportunities, that haunting "what if," and the transience of happiness. just like white nights, it’s about those fleeting moments that leave a indelible mark on your soul—the kind that you’ll revisit a thousand times, wondering how life could have been different. it’s about connection that arrives too late, the connection that you never thought you would experience. it's the feeling of holding something ineffably precious in your hands, only to watch it slip through your fingers, helplessly. it’s about living with absence, how missing something so profoundly ingrained in you creates a hollowness—a feeling that something is supposed to be there but isn’t anymore. then, it chronically lingers in your mind, and you can feel it like a phantom limb.

“Though I had always been an awkward and reclusive boy, I did have a secret yearning. There had been one lesson in which I had won my teacher's admiration: I could paint fairly well. I had dreamed, from time to time, of attending Istanbul's Academy of Fine Arts. That said, I had always been one of those quiet boys who preferred dreams to the real world. I was, in addition, absurdly shy, and therefore often mistaken for a fool, which upset me deeply. For nothing terrified me more than the prospect of correcting a false impression.”

“After spending two hours with a book, and finding it more pleasurable than two years of real life, I'd remember again that life had no meaning, and sink back into despair.”

i’m the biggest piner ever. I LONG like rent needs to be paid. raif is me and i am him at my core. raif is a ludicrously shy man who sees the world but never quite belongs to it. he is isolated, introspective, a spectator, rather than an active participant. however, when he meets maria, he finally experiences something real: “Suddenly, I felt light-hearted, even brave. As I watched the waiter standing there, totting up the figures, I had the overwhelming urge to smile and say ‘Look how happy I am, you fools!’ I wanted to salute every customer in the room, throw my arms around them all, even the musicians, and embrace them like long-lost friends.”—only to realize that life is cruel. could he be dramatic sometimes? yes. but aren’t we all? his emotions were visceral, raw, and overwhelming. i could feel that torrent. and perhaps i’m oversharing, but also the issues with his dad: “There was, in fact, no reason for me to feel any genuine affection for him; he had always been a stranger to me. Had someone asked me if my father had been a good man, I would have been at a loss for words. For I had never been close enough to know how good or bad he was. It was hard even to ink of him as a real person: for me he had always been an abstract idea. A father. A bald man with a round grey beard who came home every evening in frowning silence. Who saw no reason why he should pay the slightest attention to his children, or to our mother”, raif’s silence, his inability to stand up for himself sometimes, the way he retreats into his inner world instead of confronting reality, his overindulgence in reading, all felt too real for me.

“I don't know why, but I felt a particularly close bond with this young woman. When I saw how she was incapable of voicing her true feelings, and how fear and envy contrived to suppress everything about her that was deep and strong, and beautiful - I saw myself.”

mariaa!! i could never hate her, as i resonated with her as well. she's an enigmatic woman ahead of her time, so strong yet deeply wounded. she has never had good interactions with men in her life, as they always hurt her or used her—she never truly liked any of them (which is so me)—until raif. anyway, she was scared to connect—even felt incapable of it for a long period of time. how do you surrender to love when it’s the one thing you’ve learned to fear? ultimately she did, and their love SHATTERED me.

THE ENDING. you see it coming, but when it comes it still demolishes you. honestly, demolishing is an understatement. I WAS OBLITERATED.

no words could ever adequately encapsulate my love for this book—they’re all too tepid. i am ardently besotted. UTTERLY ENAMOURED. I DON’T CARE WHO KNOWS IT. if i were to be a book, this would be it.

it is as stunningly beautiful as it is heartbreaking. you will see me in the near future rereading this and adding to this review, undoubtedly. i’ve read many books, but i read this and felt it in my bones.

i am never getting over this. i want to tattoo this book on my eyelids. it's my new favourite.

congrats if you read this whole thing, it's my longest review now. the cheat sheet held the record previously, and now i'm glad that my longest review now is for a book i don't despise with every fibre of my being!

MORE PASSAGES:

“For as long as I lived, I would travel far and wide, meeting with people whose languages I did or did not know, and everywhere I went, I would be looking for Maria Puder. In every pair of eyes, I would be searching for the Madonna in a Fur Coat.”

“Now I can see the truth. All the same, I have no choice but to condemn myself to everlasting solitude. Life is a game that is only played once, and I lost. There is no second chance... My years ahead will be even worse than the years already past. I shall continue to go shopping every evening, like a machine. I shall meet and tolerate people in whom I have no interest. Could I have continued living in any other way? I think not. Had I been spared this chance encounter, I might have carried on living as before, oblivious to the truth. You were the one who taught me that another life was possible, and that I had a soul. And it is not your fault that it ended too soon... Thank you for giving me the chance to be truly alive. Those few months were worth a few lifetimes, don't you think?”

“I stayed at home under the pretext of not feeling well. I have been writing these lines since morning. It's slowly getting dark. They are not back yet. But soon they will come, laughing and screaming. What do I have to do with all of this? What do all these connections mean when the souls are not connected? For years, I have not exchanged a word with anyone. How much I need someone to talk to. To suppress everything within oneself is nothing other than being buried alive, isn't it? Oh Maria, why can't we sit together at the window and talk? Why can't we walk silently side by side on stormy autumn evenings and listen to the conversation of our souls? Why are you not with me?”

“But I knew in my heart that this was not how events would unfold. For our lives were governed by trivial details. Indeed, trivial details were what true life was made of. The logic in our minds had always been at odds with the logic of life itself.”

“How easily people can read each other! ... And there I was, trying so hard to penetrate someone else's mind, to find out if the soul hiding inside it was ordered or in turmoil. For even the most wretched and simple-minded man could be a surprise, even a fool could have a soul whose torments were a constant source of amazement. Why are we so slow to see this, and why do we assume that it is the easiest thing in the world to know and judge another?”

“Perhaps she'd been all I needed. I suppose that is what any of us need: one single person. But what if that person wasn't really there? What if it all turned out to be a dream, a chimera, a delusion? I had lost the power to hope, and with it the power to believe. My distrust of others was so great, and so bitter, that I sometimes scared even myself. Everyone I met, I met with hostility. Everyone I encountered, I assumed to be full of malice.”

“Maria Puder had taught me I had a soul. And now, overcoming a habit of a lifetime, I could see a soul in her. Of course, everyone else in the world was similarly endowed. But most would come into this world and leave it without even knowing what they had missed. A soul only came forward when it found its twin, when it felt no need to rely on mere words to explain itself … It was only then that we truly began to live – live with our soul. At that moment, all doubts and shame could be set aside. All rules could be broken, as two souls joined in embrace. All my inhibitions had disappeared. All I wanted was to pour out my heart to her, the good with the bad, the weaknesses with the strengths, holding nothing back, baring my soul. I had so much to say to her … enough to fill a lifetime. All my life, I’d been silent. Whenever I’d been tempted to speak, I’d quickly changed my mind. ‘Why bother?’ I’d say to myself. ‘What difference will it make if you speak?’ In the past, I’d been just as quick to let emotion get in the way – to decide, on slim evidence, that a certain person could never understand me. But this time, my first impressions stood fast: she would understand me perfectly.”

“Now Maria Puder was someone for whom I could set no conditions or requirements, if I was to live. At first it felt strange to accept this. How could I long so for someone whose existence I'd only just become aware of? But wasn't it always like this? Some things we never know we need until we find them. And now, when I looked back on my life, it seemed empty and idle, if only because she'd not been in it. All my life, I'd shied away from human company, never sharing my thoughts with a soul. How pointless this seemed now, and how absurd! I'd thought that it was life itself that had ground me down—that my sadness stemmed from spiritual malaise. After spending two hours with a book, and finding it more pleasurable than two years of real life, I'd remember again that life had no meaning, and sink back into despair.”

“Ever since boyhood, I'd feared wasting any happiness around the rome that came my way; I'd always wanted to save some of it for later: This had caused me to miss many opportunities.”

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pre-review

so like would it be funny if i made you guys wait for my rating and review 😁😁

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pre-read

IDC THAT I JUST STARTED TWO BOOKS MY PHYSICAL COPY CAME IN AFTER THREE MONTHS AND SHE'S A BEAUT OMG this book might be my new personality!!

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tbr review

i need to read this so bad its not even funny but the copy i bought didnt ship yet because they are still waiting for stock from the suppliers 😭😭😞😞

[Serkan · Rating 5 out of 5]

'Büyük konuşmayacaksın' derdi babam, haklıymış. Kitabın bu kadar yüksek bir puan almasını garipsemiş, madem bu kadar güzel bir kitap, neden diğer dillere tercüme edilip bir Dünya klasiği haline gelmemiş diye eleştirmiştim.

Ve Sabahattin Ali dün gece bana bütün bu lafları bir güzel yedirtti, hatta üzerine su bile içirdi.

Bu kadar içten, beni bu kadar derinden etkileyen, kendimle bu kadar özdeşleştirdiğim, içimi tatlı tatlı sıkan, gözlerimi dolduran, sayfaları hızlıca çevirip boğazımdaki düğümü bir türlü atamadan okuduğum başka bir kitap var mıdır bilmiyorum.

Konuyu ve kitaba ilişkin bazı doneleri buraya yazmak isterdim, ancak onları buraya yazarak kendi eleştirel dilimle kirletmekten ve değerlerini azaltmaktan korkuyorum. Buraya "aşk nedir?" yazsam, klişe bir aşk romanı sanabilirsiniz, buraya "içsel dünya" desem, çok felsefi bulabilirsiniz. Kitap bunların hiçbirisi değil. En iyisi kendiniz keşfetmeniz.

Kitabı okuduğumdan beri sürekli o Kürk Mantolu Madonna'nın resmini hayal ediyor, tıpkı Raif Bey gibi orada olduğumu, her gün oraya giderek resme bakmanın ne demek olduğunu zihnimde canlandırmaya çalışıyorum. Kendi Maria Puder'imi hayatıma girmiş ve çıkmış tüm insanlarla karşılaştırıyor ve ona ne kadar benzediklerini çıkartmaya çalışıyorum.

Eğer bir kitap duygularınızı harekete geçirebiliyor, gece sizi uykusuz bırakabiliyorsa, 5 değil 10 yıldız bile verseniz o kitabın hakkını ödeyemezsiniz. Kesinlikle okunması gereken bir kitap.

[Vit Babenco · Rating 5 out of 5]

Although the title of the book is an obvious allusion to Venus in Furs by its bitterness and sadness Madonna in a Fur Coat may be compared to Three Comrades by Erich Maria Remarque… However the world Sabahattin Ali’s personages abide in is more desolate and bleaker…

…he was rather ordinary, with no distinguishing features – no different from the hundreds of others we meet and fail to notice in the course of a normal day. Indeed, there was no part of his life – public or private – that might give rise to curiosity.

The principal character is an extremely shy and despondent man but he keeps to himself an innermost secret, which the narrator learns only too late…
In Berlin, at the exhibition of new painters, the main hero sees an outstanding self-portrait of an artist named Madonna in a Fur Coat…

What was it about that portrait? I know that words alone will not suffice. All I can say is that she wore a strange formidable, haughty, and almost wild expression, one that I had never seen before on a woman. But while that face was utterly new to me, I couldn’t help but feel that I had seen her many times before. Surely I knew this pale face, this dark brown hair, this dark brow, these dark eyes that spoke of eternal anguish and resolve.

And he desperately falls in love… Then, accidentally, he meets the woman and they are acquainted… Their relationships are uncertain and strange and poetic… But because of his timidity or his weak will or his ill luck or all those put together he in the end loses the only true love of his life…

I could have carried on as I was, shunning human company and leading a mediocre existence, but at no point having to face how very empty my life was. I’d have dragged on through life, convinced that my strange temperament allowed me no more, and never would I have known what it meant to lead a happy life. I’d have suffered from loneliness, while still believing that one day I might be rescued. Such was my state of mind when Maria, or rather her painting, came into my life. She had swept me away from my dark and silent world, delivering me to the land of truth and light. And now she had vanished, offering no reasons, and as suddenly as she’d come.

The past may leave in one’s heart not just deep scars but also terrible non-healing wounds.

[Sunny Lu · Rating 3 out of 5]

I kinda get the hype but like not really. To be extremely reductive, this is the story of a quiet sullen incel-ly man revealing his life story to his coworker while on his deathbed. It’s a story of love and obsession that perhaps constructed the first ever manic pixie dream girl in 20th century literature. Certainly there’s beautiful language here and a compelling story, but still a book written by a man about a man. So…

Read a more thorough review here on my substack: https://open.substack.com/pub/onl00p/...

[Pakinam Mahmoud · Rating 4 out of 5]

مش عارفة أكتب ريڤيو..
يمكن عشان في دموع في عينيا..
يمكن عشان مستغربة نفسي إني أتاثرت كدة برواية رومانسية ونهايتها تقريباً متوقعة من الاول..أو يمكن عشان مهماً قلت من كلام مش حيجي حاجة جنب عذوبة وجمال كلماتها اللي حتحرك مشاعر كتير جوانا بنخاف ساعات نفكر فيها...
حقيقي تلمس القلب😍

"أن تحيا هو أن تراقب انسكاب الحياة ومضيها بمنطق لا يتزعزع وتعرف أن لحظةُ ما قد تملأ عمراً كاملاً..والأهم من ذلك أن تؤمن بوجود إنسان ستحكي له كل ذلك وأن تحيا وأنت تنتظر قدومه.."💕

[Sherif Metwaly · Rating 4 out of 5]

الألم الذي وجدتُه في الروايات المفجعة التي قرأتها قبل هذه الرواية يوضع في كفة، وألم هذه الرواية - بالنسبة لي على الأقل - في كفة أخرى تمامًا. ماذا أقول؟، لا أعرف الحقيقة كيف أفسر لكم سبب وضعي لهذه الرواية في تلك الكفة الخاصة، ولكنني سأترك أناملي تتواصل مباشرةً مع قلبي بدون أدنى تدخل لعقلي الواعي في هذا الموضوع لعلني أجد جوابًا. ربما لأنها واجهتني بمخاوفي تجاه الحب؟، أو ربما لأنها كشفت الستار عن شخصيةٍ أخشى أن أكونها في المستقبل؟؛ أم لأنها فاجأتني بالحديث عما يجول بخاطري كل فترة من مخاوف تجاه الحياة وصدماتها الغير متوقعة؟ حقيقةً لا أعلم، كل ما يمكن قوله أن هذه الرواية لمستْ أعمق مكان في قلبي مما جعله يخفق بعنف طوال قراءتها، ومما دفعني لعدم تركها أكثر من دقائق معدودة وعند الضرورة القصوى فقط، لدرجة أنني أخذت التابلت الخاص بي معي بالأمس بينما أتجول مع والدي في عدة أماكن لأجل أغراض عديدة لا داعي لذكرها وأنا الذي لا يستطيع أن يركز في القراءة في الأماكن العامة مطلقًا، لدرجة أنني كنتُ أرتجف لا إراديًا عند بعض الفقرات فأبدأ في الإلتفات حولي بحذر آملًا ألا أجد أحدًا يراقبني أو ينظر لوجهي فيكتشف ما يحدث لي بسبب هذه الرواية، و في الصفحات الأخيرة منها كنتُ بالصدفة أقف أسفل شرفة أحد البيوت في مكان مجهول بالنسبة لي، كنتُ مصدوم وموجوع بطريقة لو وصفتها بالكلمات لظنني الناس معتوهًا أو مبالغًا لدرجة السخف، ولكن هذا ما حدث ، كنتُ تحت هذه الشرفة المجهولة أبحث عن مكان مستتر لألتقط فيه أنفاسي وربما لأستطيع ذرف بعض الدموع كي أتمكن من إطفاء نيران تلك الصرخة المكتومة بداخلي .

لماذا صُدمت قرب النهاية؟، لماذا تمنيت ألا تكون النهاية هكذا؟، ألأنني وجدتُ جزءًا مني في رائف أفندي فتمنيتُ من الله ألا أتألم لألمه؟؛ ولكنني كنتُ أُمَنِّي نفسي بالمستحيل!، فعلًا كنتُ أتعامي وأضحك على نفسي. أتعرفون ما هو سر تفرُّد هذه الرواية؟، أن نهايتها مكررة ومتوقعة!، سيتعجب البعض من كلامي هذا، إذ كيف تكون النهاية المتوقعة علامة من علامات التفرّد؟، الإجابة : لأن النهاية رغم أنها من المفترض أن تكون متوقعة، إلا أنك لن تتوقعها!، لن تتوقعها ولن تفكر فيها من الأساس من فرط اندماجك مع شخصيتي رائف أفندي ومادونا؛ شخصيتان من أكثر الشخصيات المربكة والمضطربة التي مررت بها في حياتي، شخصيتان ستدفعانك للتساؤل في البداية: كيف يمكن أن تتواجد نقطة التقاء بين طريقيهما في الحياة؟، ثم لا تلبث أن تجد الإجابة في وجهك بين السطور، بالــــحـــب !. ربما لو حكيتَ لأحد أصدقائك مختصر هذه الرواية بأسلوبك الشخصي ستتفاجأ برد فعله المستسخف للحكاية ككُل، فأنتَ و أنا ليس لدينا القدرة على رسم ملامح هاتين الشخصيتين كما فعل صباح الدين على،وبالتالي فإننا مهما حاولنا سنفشل في إعادة رسم الصورة الكاملة بكل تفاصيلها.

هذه الرواية لا تُحكى، هذه الرواية تُقرأ لتعيش بداخلها، لتكتشف جزءًا منك داخل شخصية رائف أو مادونا؛ هذه رواية كُتبت لمواجهتك بما تخاف منه وتتغاضى عن النظر إليه، هذه الرواية صرخة تحذير عنيفة لك أنت، تطلب منك إعادة النظر فيما أنت عليه وما ستؤول إليه إن استمر حالك هكذا، تطلب منك أن تهدم صومعتك وتطلق لقلبك العنان كي يتدرب على مفاجآت و صدمات الحياة، لأن الصدمات آتية لا محالة، وإذا أتت و أنت على حالك هكذا، للأسف، ستدفن نفسك في صومعتك بيديك.

شكرًا لكل من شارك في القراءة الجماعية لهذه المعزوفة الرومانسية الحزينة
التي لا تُنسى


تمت

[Steven Godin · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was staggered to learn that when released in 1943, Sabahattin Ali's achingly heartfelt novel made no impression whatsoever. Even Decades later, when 'Madonna in a Fur coat' was passed around between family and friends it's position continued to be ignored by the literary world, seen by some as nothing more than a puzzling aberration, a book easily weep over without any solid substance to back it up, I disagree. It may just be a simply told love story drenched in melancholy, but it must be doing something right, in Turkey for example, outselling Orhan Pamuk in recent years. A book popular now with young adults apparently, and no one seems able to explain quite why. One theory is that Ali’s own biography makes his novel relevant to a new Turkish generation coping with the repressive rule of President Recep Tayyip Erdogan: The novelist was a communist jailed repeatedly by the authoritarian Turkish regime of his day, which may also have had a hand in his murder in 1948. Whatever the case, I myself have fallen for it.

It's a tale of star-crossed lovers Raif and Maria in Berlin, but the story first begins in 1930s Ankara, the Turkish Republic’s newly appointed capital. The narrator, who has fallen on hard times, starts work as a clerk, and it's here he meets the sickly, quiet, and affectless Raif Bey, who is the sort of person who ponders on questions like, "What compels me to go on living"? "What else is there in life"?. When at last they make friends, it becomes clear that Raif’s reason for living does not lie with his family. Living under one roof with many members of his family, he is looked on with contempt, and yet he welcomes their derision, his mind is elsewhere, lost in thought. Through the contents of his writing, we will learn why. Hidden in Raif's desk drawer at work, there is a secret notebook, which he asks his friend to destroy, but instead he reads it, of a time in Berlin where a lonely and inexperienced Raif first meets his infatuated love, Maria, a girl who would turn his views on life upside down.

Raif devoted his days to reading, and strolling around the streets with no real purpose, until, one evening, he wanders into an exhibition of contemporary art to be mesmerised by a portrait of a Madonna in a fur coat. He goes back the next day, and the next, until finally the artist introduces herself, in no time at all he is besotted with her. The bewildering Maria Puder is the sort of free-thinking new woman he could never have imagined possible, the two form an intensely platonic friendship, that borders on love, a situation that seems to suit them both, however it's Raif, who simply cannot leave her side, whereas Maria, does have some dark emotional problems that blight her. Before the world slowly starts to close in on them, with other heart-rending plans.

I hadn't planned on it, but read this in two sittings, back to back, couldn't keep my eyes away from the pages for very long, it captured something deep within that bought my own old love wounds back to life, maybe the reason for having such a connection with it. Either way, this was one profoundly moving novel, penetrating the heart with a doomed romance I will never forget.

[Maddy ✨ ~The Verse Vixen {AFK brb} · Rating 5 out of 5]

Madonna in a Fur Coat~ by Sabahattin Ali


"Their love was a dream, too wild to chase,
Two hearts yearning,in fate's cruel embrace."


"Have you ever felt a book breathe?"-Because that’s what this one did—it exhaled life, and I inhaled every bit of it. Some stories are not just written; they are felt in the deepest corners of the soul. This book didn’t just tug at my emotions—it grabbed them, twisted them, and left me raw. It’s the kind of story that doesn’t ask for your attention; it demands it, unapologetically leaving you in shambles by the end. "Madonna in a Fur Coat is one of those rare gems that lingers in your heart long after you’ve closed its final pages. It’s a poignant tale of yearning, solitude, and love that transcends time. The kind of old-school, soul-stirring love we read about in faded letters and imagine in sepia tones. This is, without a doubt, one of the best stories I have ever come across—a symphony of emotion that crescendos and lingers like a haunting melody.


-📜Key Points

The story begins with an unnamed narrator—a young, disillusioned man—who meets Raif Efendi, a quiet, seemingly ordinary coworker.a man consumed by unrequited love and self-imposed isolation. Raif’s life appears dull and uneventful, but the narrator senses there is more to him.

Through Raif’s secret notebook, we are taken back to his younger years in Berlin, where his life changes irrevocably after meeting Maria Puder, the enigmatic woman he calls his “Madonna in a Fur Coat.” Maria is fiercely independent, unapologetically bold, and deeply vulnerable. Their bond grows through friendship , shared silences and profound conversations

Maria’s portrait, both literal and metaphorical, becomes the anchor of Raif’s existence, leading to a love story that is both tender and devastating.




I left the picture lying on the table, closed my eyes and thought of the picture in the exhibition. Only at this moment did it occur to me that the person depicted there also existed in reality. Since the painter had painted her own picture, this wonderful woman was walking among us, her black, deep eyes directed at the ground or at the person opposite, speaking with her slightly enlarged mouth under her lip, in short, she was alive. It would have been possible to see her somewhere… As I thought about this possibility, my first feeling was great fear. For a man like me, who had never experienced an adventure in his life, it would really be frightening to meet such a woman for the first time. Although I was twenty-four years old, I had never experienced a love adventure.

the image of the woman in the fur coat that I had seen at the exhibition had captivated me so much that I couldn't even imagine touching her. Not only a love scene with her, but also a simple face-to-face conversation, as between two friends, was unimaginable to me.

Nonetheless, the desire grew in me to look at the picture and to gaze into these eyes for hours, eyes which I was sure were not looking at me. I put on my coat and made my way back to the exhibition.

Everywhere I went, I would be looking for her. In every pair of eyes I would be searching for the Madonna in a fur coat. I knew from the outset that I would never find her. Yet it was not in my power to give up searching. She had condemned me to a lifelong quest for a cipher for someone that did not exist. She should never have done this to me -AGHHHHH BRING BACK THAT YEARNINGS, BRING BACK THAT OLD SCHOOL LOVE😭💕







🤍Themes and Emotional Journey:

-Yearning and Love: The novel is a tale of two souls meeting in a world that often feels cruel and indifferent. It captures the ache of unfulfilled desires and the fragility of human connections.

-Contrasting Personalities: Maria’s modernity and Raif’s reserved nature create a relationship filled with both tension and deep affection.🤝

-Solitude: Raif’s loneliness is a haunting undercurrent, even during his moments of joy with Maria. Life’s impermanence casts a shadow over their happiness, creating a deep emotional resonance.

-Timeless Quality: The love depicted in the story feels sacred and pure, reminding us of a bygone era where relationships were built on emotional depth rather than fleeting gratification.





🤍Notable Excerpts:

-“Is it possible for someone to be your whole world, and yet you remain a stranger to them?” Captures the quiet tragedy of Raif’s love for Maria—a love that consumes him yet remains unattainable.

-“Some loves are not meant to be lived; they are meant to be remembered.” Echoes the novel’s bittersweet theme of connections that never fully materialize.

-“If loneliness was a scent, it would be this city.” A poetic reflection on Raif’s solitude in Berlin, where even the liveliest streets feel empty without connection.

-“You gave me a soul, and then you left me to carry it alone.” A heartbreaking acknowledgment of Maria’s impact on Raif’s life.

-“Happiness is a fleeting thing, and sometimes it’s better to admire it from afar than to grasp it and watch it slip away.” A bittersweet meditation on the transient nature of joy.

-“The things we don’t say are often the loudest.” A poignant reminder of the power of silence in love and loss.
-"A person who truly has the ability to love can never restrict this love to one person and can't expect someone else to do the same."


🤍Old-School Love :

-Reading Madonna in a Fur Coat feels like stepping into another era, where love was slower, deeper, and infinitely patient.

-Relationships in the story are built on restraint and intimacy rather than instant gratification.

-The narrative reminds readers of the beauty in words left unsaid and moments left undone, evoking an ache for simpler, purer connections. ✉️✨



🤍Why It Resonates:

-The story mirrors the pain of unspoken words and the weight of love that cannot be forgotten.

-Sabahattin Ali’s lyrical yet unpretentious prose paints vivid emotional landscapes. 📖

-The novel reads like poetry in prose form, offering a bittersweet hymn to love’s fragility and resilience. 🥀



🤍Final Thoughts:

-Madonna in a Fur Coat is not just a novel; it’s an experience that stays with you. 💫📚

-It’s a quiet, devastating reminder of the fragility of human connections and the enduring power of love and memory.

-The book feels like standing on an empty street at dusk, with a chill in the air and a song in your heart that words cannot capture.

-Everyone should read this book at least once in their life...






She had passed while I was waiting for her, preparing my house for her. Without telling anyone, she had died with all her secret intact, so as not to cause me trouble and not to make me suffer from the impossibility. Now I understood the true reason for the anger I had been feeling towards her for ten years, and the impenetrable wall I had built around me: I had loved her relentlessly for ten years.

I had not allowed anyone else to penetrate my interior. But now I loved her more than ever. I reached out to embrace the picture in front of me, wanting to take her hands back into my palms and warm them. Our shared life, those four or five months, was presented before my eyes in all its details. I remembered every moment, every word that was exchanged between us. From the moment I saw her picture in the exhibition, until I heard her song over the Atlantic, her arrival, our walks in the Botanical Garden, our conversations in her room, her illness - I relived it all. Memories, rich enough to fill a whole lifetime, were more vivid and striking because they were compressed into such a short timespan.

I stayed at home under the pretext of not feeling well. I have been writing these lines since morning. It's slowly getting dark. They are not back yet. But soon they will come, laughing and screaming. What do I have to do with all of this? What do all these connections mean when the souls are not connected? For years, I have not exchanged a word with anyone. How much I need someone to talk to. To suppress everything within oneself is nothing other than being buried alive, isn't it? Oh Maria, why can't we sit together at the window and talk? Why can't we walk silently side by side on stormy autumn evenings and listen to the conversation of our souls? Why are you not with me?

If you didn't make it to the end, it's not your fault…. I thank you for the few months I was really allowed to live. Aren't those few months as precious as several lives?Our child, our daughter, whom you left behind as part of your body, will wander in this world without knowing her father…. Our paths crossed once. But I know nothing of her.



🤍Conclusion:

If you’ve ever yearned for a love that defies time and space, or longed for the beauty of a bygone era, this book will take you there. It’s a masterpiece of emotion, a symphony of yearning, and a love letter to the world kind of romance that is both fleeting and eternal. ✨❤️‍🔥 This is, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful stories I have ever read.

[aleksandra · Rating 4 out of 5]

4/5

Good news, men who yearn and love with their entire being do exist.

Bad news, I cried.

[Jsiva · Rating 2 out of 5]

I don't know how to feel about this book... it explains the life of a man who purposefully wastes it because he felt once but never really understood who he loved... I feel he was in love with the idea of her....so then... did he ever really love her?

[Brina · Rating 4 out of 5]

Madonna in a Fur Coat by Sabahattin Ali is considered one of the foremost Turkish classics of the 20th century. Written in 1941 and describing how both Germany and Turkey had changed following the Great War, this classic is now available in English for the first time. Using the life of a translation clerk named Raif Efendi as a metaphor to show how the world has changed, Ali delivers a hidden gem of a classic to western readers.

Our story begins as a narrator in search of work finds employment as a clerk in the same office as Raif Efendi. Noticing that Efendi is often out ill, his colleague offers to bring him his work to his home. The two develop a rapport but then Efendi's health takes a turn for the worse, and he asks the narrator to collect his personal items from his desk. One of these items is a black leather bound notebook that piques the narrator's curiosity and Efendi allows him to read it. It is in the pages of the notebook that the bulk of the story takes place.

As a young man in Istanbul, Raif Efendi desires to see Europe in order to improve himself as an artist. His father finances a trip to Berlin, and Efendi stays there in a hostel for two years. While there, he masters the German language and witnesses how the young people are without a care in the world living their lives jubilantly during the years between the two wars. Immediately, Efendi passes his time at the art museum and is enraptured by a painting entitled Madonna in a Fur Coat. Eventually, he befriends the artist, a woman named Maria Puder who lives a life of contradictions, and, despite their cultural differences, become the love of their early lives.

Ali's prose is charming as he writes of missed opportunities of a love that might have been. I have read a number of European classics from this era this year, and have noticed a theme of wistfulness, of missing out on opportunities especially with love, and of reminiscing of a life gone by. Ali's Turkish classic fits in this mold nicely as he writes of the interwar years and how people's expectations have changed, and then returns to Raif Efendi contemplating what might have been in his life.

Madonna in a Fur Coat is a story of missed opportunity. It is a short novel of lovely prose, and I enjoyed my brief journey to Turkey reading about Raif Efendi. Sabahattin Ali is considered the leading Turkish writer of the 20th century, but unfortunately he was murdered in 1948. Madonna remains his leading classic, and it can now be enjoyed by western audiences. As the world becomes smaller and works from all over the world become available to read, there is no limit to the number of classics that are being uncovered. I though Madonna in a Fur Coat measures up to other classics in its era, and rate it 4 stars.

[ميقات الراجحي · Rating 4 out of 5]

كما يقال (أن تأتي متأخرًا خيرًا من أن لا تأتِ) هذا ما ينطبق على هذه الرواية. كان أول عـهدي بمعرفتها كنص روئي في المرحلة الثانوية، والآن بعد (70) تأتينا في ترجمة عربية.


استغربت كثيرًا أين هي دور النشر العربية تلك اللبنانية وأين منها مشروع (كلمة) للترجمة؟. رغم سعادتي بقراءة النص أخيرًا – الذي لم أبحث عنه بالإنجليزية من قبل – حقيقة شعرت ببعض الحزن أن هذا الجمال غاب عنا كل هذا العهد وسط قراءات متتالية لنصوص مترجمة لأسماء كبيرة لا تصل لمستوى جودة هذ النص من ناحية الموضوع وطريقة التحليل الروائي والنفسي للشخصيات خصوصًا زائف أفندي.

أكثر ما يلفت في هذه الرواية هو طبيعة الحوار. عمق جميل في نفسيات أبطال الرواية وتساؤلات ليست بعبثية تطرح أمامنا عن الوجود / وجودنا عن ما يقلقنا في أعماقنا وأمام الآخر وعن تلك الطبيعة من حولنا التي نشعر بها ولا نشعر بها. ولكن هذا لا يعني أن نُسلم لصديقتنا (مادونا) التي أدخلتنا بمبالغة مفتلعلة في بعض حوارتها. عشقت شخصية (رائف) أكثر من مادونا فقد كان طبيعيًا بينما مادونا تفتعل الحوارية الرمزية بصورة اساءت فيها للنصف الثاني من العمل. رغم أن ظهورها كان جميل وعلاقة المطردة مع رائف جميلة إلا أن المؤلف تعمق في شخصية رائف منذ البداية منذ ملامحها الأولى حتى مغادرته الرواية.


ومما يلفت في الرواية هو ذلك التاريخ المخيف التي تحملها.. لم أصدق أن هذا العمل كتب قبل هذه السنوات وكأن أحدهم أعاد صياغتها بلغة بسيطة تواكب هذا اليوم.. حقًا "ما يخرج من القلب يصل إلى القلب" هذه طبيعة هذه الرواية. نعم هي رواية عاطفية لكنها ليست أبدًا كتلك الروايات المستمرة في إغراق مكتباتنا العربية من المحيط للخليج. هذه رواية بإسلوب فلسفي بسيط.

الرواية بها الكثير من البساطة وبعيدة كل البعد عن تقنيات الرواية الحديثة والحبكات الروائية التي تطورت في ألمانيا وفرنسا وإنجلترا والمدرسة الأمريكية بل بها سقطات (هينة) كأنها رواية عربية كتبت في الأربعينات والخمسينات الميلادية لكن الحب الذي تحمل والمشاعر التي تسحبك خلفها من سطر لآخر ومن صفحة لأخرى تنسيك هذه المنغصات البسيطة. لكن لو نظرت لها بعين قارئ ذلك الزمان – وهذا هو عين الصواب – بدل نظرتي الأنانية الحالمة ما بعد الألفية لشعرت بها فوق شعوري الكبير. لكنها فوق ذلك فاتنة.

رائف أفندي رجل غارق في البساطة أنا وأنت نعرفه جيدًا هو حولنا من كل تجاه.. لابد أنك تعرفه ذلك الرجل الذي يكاد يكون شبه مهمش لكثرة بساطته. هذه هي قصة حبه التي ماكان الروائي ليعبر عنها بهذا العمق إن لم يكن بطريقةٍ ما جزء من هذه الشخصية. نعرف عن معاناة هذه المسكين من خلال مذكراته (كثير هي الأعمال التي قامت على فكرة خروج أثر بعد الوفاة) الشخصية والتي أوصاه صاحبنا الذي يؤدي دور الرواي في النص بحرقها بعد أن شعر رائف بنو موته بسبب مرضه لكنه أصر أن يقرأ العمل أولًا ليتعرف على معاناة هذه الأفندي رائف. تحمل المذاكرات للولادات للـ "العودة للأماكن القديمة" كما يقول القصيبي لنبدأ من الصفر في ألمانيا حيث يزرع أمامنا رائف عاشقًا حد الثمالة لتبدأ قصته من لوحة تأسرة ببساطتها وعنفوانها في نفس الوقت فيشعر بها تتغلغل في وجدانه وسرعان ما يقع في حب صاحبة اللوحة، مادونا صاحبة المعطف.

يحدثنا عن ما تحمله النفس البشرية من تخبطات وتضاد وتعقيد هو هو نفسه منذ القدم حتى يومنا هذا من خلال حوارات (بعضها مفتعل) عن كل جوانب الحياة بين رائف وبين مادونا – عارضة الأزياء – الألمانية فنتابع معهما مدى براعة المؤلف صباح الدين كيف يحببنا في الشخصية وكيف يجعلنا نتعاطف معها وحينها نكرهها بسبب بعض قسوته وتهميشه المتقصد في بعض المقاطع وكأنه يخبرنا عن حقيقة الإنسان في كل أدوار الحياة منذ ولادته حتى وفاتهو وهذا التوغل في النفس قد فعله فيما بعد (جان بول سارتر) في شخصياته في (الغرفة)، و (الغثيان) ومجمل أعماله.

الشاعر (ناظم حكمت) الذي أشتهر تعليقه عند القراء العرب بعد ترجمة العمل كان واضح التأثير في شأن ماذكره بخصوص تحول الكاتب في القسم الثاني من العمل عن الجزء الأول الذي أجاده. لم اقرأ تعليقه – نقده – إلا بعد إنهاد الرواية ووجدت أنه أصاب فيما ذكر. ولكن هذا لم يغني عندي لتحولي عن حب الرواية كنص روائي بصفة عامة، وإن كنت أتمني عدم ذكر تعليقه كي لا يكون نظرة مسبقة عند من يقرأ النقد في نهاية العمل قبل البداية – وهذا وارد – فسامح الله الدار. حتى لو كان هذا مرفقًا في النص الأصلي فليتهم غفلوا عنه

رغم أني لا أجيد التركية لكنني شعرت بعظم اللغة من خلال الترجمة الموفقة من جهاد الأماسي. في هذه الرواية حب يتوقد في كل صفحة. لا أعلم هل هذا الشاب درس في تركيا وكلف بالأءب التركي أم أنه فقط درسها في بلده الخليجي لو كانت الثانية فهذا رجل سوف يمتعنا فوق ما نطلب.

[Kushagri · Rating 5 out of 5]

Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? The answer, whispered through the pages, celebrates the transformative power of love despite its inevitable end.

I suppose that is what any of us need: one single person. But what if that person wasn't really there? What if it all turned out to be a dream, a chimera, a delusion?

The book is poignant exploration of love and loss, with a narrative that delves into the complexities of relationships. The strength of the novel lies in its ability to capture the bittersweet essence of love, leaving readers with a lingering sense of melancholy. The language weaves together poignant imagery and profound reflections. The author’s ability to articulate the nuances of human connection is truly awe-inspiring by making the prose rich in sensory details, immersing the reader in a world where they can feel the warmth of love and the chill of separation.

The pain of losing something precious - be it earthly happiness or material wealth - can be forgotten over time. But our missed opportunities never leave us, and every time they come back to haunt us, we ache. Or perhaps what haunts us is that nag ging thought that things might have turned out differently. Because without that thought, we would put it down to fate and accept it.

The pacing of the novel, like a gentle dance between two entwined souls, might challenge readers looking for a swift narrative. Yet, for those willing to take their time, it unfolds a mosaic of emotions crafted with vulnerability and resilience.

I loved this book. It is a relatively lesser known literary gem which leaves an indescribable ache and warmth in equal measure. The prose is like a haunting melody that lingers, inviting readers to embrace the beauty found in both love and its inevitable farewell.

[♥︎ Heather ⚔ (New House-Hiatus) · Rating 3 out of 5]

IDK... Maybe I'm an odd ball? It was alright, but I wasn't like... blown away? Lemme think on it for a bit. 3 stars for now.

In an attempt to get by the 'behind one book' on my reading challenge - I'm gonna give this one a read. I've heard nothing but good things, and it's a short one! 🥰🙏🏻

🖤Melancholic
🤍Classic Love Story
🖤1920's
🤍Set in Berlin and Turkey
🖤Obsession x Loneliness
🤍Losing Yourself in Someone

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[helena · Rating 3 out of 5]

the writing was incredible, the story itself was so beautifully spun out, with such interesting passages and perspectives.

similarly to how I felt when reading White Nights, I felt very detached from the narrator. My idea of love is so different from theirs that I feel very distant from their way of perceiving it, and how they experience their lives.

but incredible!

[anh · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book has officially ruined all other depictions of yearning for me! It is THE book that makes you realise you didn't actually understand yearning until you read it because everything else now feels shallow in comparison.

Madonna in a Fur Coat is a meditation on the ache of unrealised dreams and the bittersweetness of love lost to time. It speaks to the alienation we feel in a world that, despite its vastness, can sometimes make us feel completely unseen. At the heart of it is a yearning—an impossible longing for something we never thought we'd have, something we never expected to need. And yet, when it arrives, it's too late, slipping through our fingers as if it were nothing more than a mirage.

The main character is Raif, a man of extreme shyness, someone who feels like a spectator in his own life. He's acutely aware of the world around him but never quite feels he's a part of it. He's introspective, caught in his own thoughts, yet he never fully engages—until he meets Maria. She becomes this connection that makes him step outside of himself and feel the world in a way he never has before.

Maria is a woman who captivates and challenges. She's been hurt by men all her life and has learned to keep her heart guarded. Her interactions with men have always left her broken, and for a long time, she was convinced she couldn't love, that opening herself up to it would only bring pain. And yet, despite the fear that holds her back, she learns to surrender to it with Raif.

I fear there are not enough words to do this book justice, but for me, reading Madonna in a Fur Coat felt like rediscovering love in its truest form. What's remarkable about this book is the way it shows how love can reshape you. With each encounter, Raif learns something new about himself. Reading it feels like reading Raif's memoir, like an ode to Maria. From love, he learns how to live and how to take each step with intention. He becomes more than just a man who existed—love teaches him what it means to truly be alive. It makes him feel things he never imagined he'd feel, and in that sense, love becomes a force that not only defines who he is but also frees him to become something more.

Raif's devotion to Maria, even in such a short time, is so powerful that it's almost dizzying. But the book shows that love, as beautiful as it can be, is also fleeting, untimely, and often beyond our control. It doesn't always stay, no matter how deeply we wish for it to. Sometimes it slips away, we're left with nothing but memories, stashed away in the corners of our minds.

This book is, I’m proud to say, a new favourite of mine. It’s a beautiful testament to love and how it always finds a way back into our thoughts, even after it slips away.

[فهد الفهد · Rating 4 out of 5]

مادونا صاحبة معطف الفرو

منذ صدورها قبل ما يزيد على السبعين عاما – 1943 م -، لم تخرج رواية مادونا من قائمة أكثر الكتب مبيعاً في تركيا، وهذا يجعلها أحد الكلاسيكيات التركية المهمة والتي ترجمت أخيراً إلى اللغة العربية، ترجمة ممتازة رغم أنها الأولى للأستاذ جهاد الأماسي.

ولد صباح الدين علي في أواخر أيام الإمبراطورية العثمانية، في مدينة (أردينو) والتي صارت الآن داخل حدود بلغاريا، درس في إسطنبول، ثم ابتعث لألمانيا لسنتين – ومن تجربته وحياته هناك استقى روايته هذه -، عاد بعد ذلك ليعلم الألمانية في آيدن وقونية، اعتقل بسبب قصيدة انتقد فيها أتاتورك، ولم يعد لسلك التعليم إلا بعدما كتب قصيدة أخرى يبجل فيها أتاتورك، خدم صباح الدين في الجيش حيث كتب روايته (مادونا صاحبة معطف الفرو) في خيمة أحد معسكراته، ويقال أن يده كسرت في الأيام الأولى فلذلك كان يضعها في ماء دافئ ليكتب، أنشأ فيما بعد صحيفة (ماركو باشا) مع أديب تركيا الأشهر (عزيز نيسن)، عانى من الاعتقال والتضييق ورفض طلبه للحصول على جواز سفر، ولهذا قرر الهرب عبر الحدود البلغارية، ولكنه قتل للأسف في ظروف غامضة على يد المهرب والذي قيل أنه متعاون مع السلطات، لم تكتشف جثة صباح الدين علي إلا بعد شهور، في 2007 م احتفلت مدينة أدرنو البلغارية بمرور مئة عام على مولد صباح الدين علي، كما أن كتاباته تدرس في المدارس البلغارية منذ الخمسينات.

ترك صباح الدين علي ثلاث روايات ومسرحية واحدة وعدة قصص قصيرة وقصائد، وها هي الفرصة لنطلع على أهم كتبه على الإطلاق.

يمكننا تصنيف رواية (مادونا صاحبة معطف الفرو) على أنها إحدى روايات حب المغتربين، شيء يشبه رواية (الحي اللاتيني) لسهيل إدريس، أو نوعاً ما رواية (موسم الهجرة إلى الشمال) للطيب صالح، يرقد وراء هذا النوع من الروايات، صراع حضاري بين الشرق والغرب، حيث الشاب الشرقي المبهور بالحضارة الغربية وتقدمها، والخجول من تأخر الشرق وتخلفه، يحاول التواصل مع هذه الحضارة من خلال فتاة غربية، يحاول معالجة - ما أسماه جورج طرابيشي - الجرح النرجسي – أنصح في هذا المجال بقراءة كتابه الرائع (شرق وغرب، رجولة وأنوثة: دراسة في أزمة الجنس والحضارة في الرواية العربية)-.

طبعاً لا تعاني رواية صباح الدين علي من ذلك الجرح النرجسي المرعب، فقد كتبها بعد تحرير تركيا وإنشاء الجمهورية التركية، فلذا لم يكن يعاني من تلك الحالة العربية الغائرة، والتي زادتها الهزائم العربية أمام العدو الإسرائيلي.

تفتتح الرواية بالراوي والذي يتعرف في عمله الجديد على رجل مسحوق يدعى رائف أفندي، أظن أن كلاً منا التقى في حياته برائف أفندي ما، إنه ذلك الرجل الذي لا يأبه له أحد، إنسان ي��يش على الهامش ولا يعترض أو يرفع صوته، هكذا وجد الراوي رائف أفندي في العمل وفي المنزل، ومع مرض رائف أفندي واقترابه من الموت يحصل الراوي على مذكراته والتي يصر رائف أفندي على حرقها، ولكن الراوي يستنقذها ليقرأها لنا.

هكذا تنفتح لنا بوابات عالم آخر، يخلع رائف أفندي ثياب الرجل البائس ليتبدى ورائها عاشق كبير، هكذا نقفز من أنقرة حيث يعيش ويعمل رائف أفندي إلى برلين حيث ذهب في شبابه مرسلاً من والده ليتعلم أسرار صناعة الصابون، ولكنه يلتقي هناك بلوحة تفتنه، ومن ثم يلتقي بصاحبة اللوحة، هكذا تدور قصة الحب ما بين الفتى التركي الساذج، ومادونا صاحبة معطف الفرو.

تحفل الرواية بالمصادفات التي تميز الروايات الكلاسيكية، وتقلق أي قارئ حديث، ولكن الرواية ممتعة في مجملها.

[Léa · Rating 4 out of 5]

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️.5
This was the definition of yearning (for life and love) mixed with a good (painful) amount of melancholy!!! would highly highly recommend I'll be thinking about this one for a LONG time

"this was how life should be lived, attuned to nature, its every flutter and sway, while time moves inexorably forward. rejoicing in every moment, finding a lifetime in each and every one, in the knowledge that these moments were revealing themselves to me as no other."

[Alix · Rating 5 out of 5]

Turkish literature was brought into the spotlight in recent years, with writers like Orhan Pamuk and Elif Şafak being known and read internationally. I prefer to look for the less popular ones, though; and, while Sabahattin Ali is well-known in his home country, his work is unfortunately not available in most international translations.
Kürk Mantolu Madonna ("Madonna in a Fur Coat") is a short but masterly novel. It is the love story of Raif Bey, a young Turkish student in 1920's Germany, and Maria Puder, a Berliner painter. It is, by all means, a sentimental story, the classic kind, where things don't turn out well. But while many stories end similarly, I loved how it all started: him falling in love with her portrait in a gallery.
This is Sabahattin Ali's most famous novel, and I recommend it to everyone, for its beautifully constructed passages, its bitter-sweetness, its all too actual descriptions of cultural differences. A modern classic.

[Emily May · Rating 2 out of 5]

No doubt I was the most useless man in the world. The world would be no worse off without me. I expected nothing of anyone and no one expected anything of me.

I like this one less and less the more I think about it. I rated it three stars initially— I think swayed somewhat by the gushing reviews— but if I'm honest with myself, I didn't have the same magnificent experience of yearning that so many others claim to. This is just another book about a man weirdly obsessed with a manic pixie dreamgirl.

Others have described Raif Bey as a complex character, but how is he? He is not complex at all. He has exactly one care, one interest, and no personality outside of it. Everything else in his life, before and after, he reacts completely passively to.

The story is that, in the past of the novel, Raif sees a portrait of a woman at an art gallery and becomes obsessed with it— possibly the most shallow basis for a romance one could conceive of— then later meets said woman and becomes equally obsessed with her. It is a "not like other girls" narrative, where all other women are unimportant or irksome (including his own daughters). I find it very difficult to sympathise with a man who has a wife and children and feels no attachment to them whatsoever.

Even the madonna in question almost gets the brush when he suspects she might be like all the other girls.

But now I had caught her pursuing base pleasures in a gaudy cabaret, like so many other frivolous girls of her generation. The madonna in the bobcat coat, to whom I had accorded such respect, was nothing more than a common consommatrice.

Without a doubt someone will come comment and tell me that I missed the point, that this was all intentional and I was not actually supposed to like Raif. Perhaps. But then I struggle to see what, exactly, I am supposed to get from it.

[Mohamed Shady · Rating 1 out of 5]

أيًا كان اللي رشحلي الرواية دي، وأينما وُجد، هجيبه من قفاه وهزعله جامد.

[Gabrielle (Reading Rampage) · Rating 4 out of 5]

4 and a half stars.

This is a tricky one to review. It's not a new story (it was originally written in the 40s), nor is it especially original: I think star-crossed lovers must be the oldest story in the world. But this one is written with such melancholy, longing, introspection and quiet passion that it turned out to be unlike any story of love lost I have read before.

A quiet, very lonely young man from Turkey goes to Berlin in the late 1920s, in order to study so he can eventually take over his father's business back in his home country. One day, he walks into a gallery and becomes fascinated with a painting called "Madonna in a Fur Coat", a self-portrait of an artist named Maria. He goes to see the painting every day, piquing the artist's curiosity as to whom could be so admiring of her work, and she goes to sit next to him in the gallery.

Both characters are adrift in their lives, searching for something that would make their strange existence worth living, but neither knows what that could be, or how to deal with it when it finally lands in their lives. The story of their few weeks, the many missed opportunities, and of the inevitable tragic dénoument is told so poignantly, with such deep regret that it's impossible not to be moved and frustrated by it. Even if I knew how this would end, I kept hoping that the next page would prove me wrong, and that once these two lonely souls had found each other, they wouldn't be torn apart.

A short, deeply affecting read. I know its a translation, but it is gorgeously written, and will leave heartbreaking sepia images in your head when you flip the final page.

[Mohamed Al · Rating 4 out of 5]

رجل لا يثق بنفسه وامرأة شديدة الثقة بنفسها يجمع بينهما عدم ثقتهما بالآخرين .. والحب. رواية جميلة تعيد الثقة في قصص الحبّ النبيلة

[mariang maturana · Rating 2 out of 5]

vi un tweet que ponía que este libro había que leérselo sí o sí. yo personalmente creo que no

[Salem ☥ · Rating 1 out of 5]

Madonna in a Fur Coat is not a love story. Our protagonist Raif Efendi is a young man struggling to find his place in the world.

Raif is a yearner to his core, and once having traveled to Berlin, he often roams without reason. If he's not roaming, he's reading. And if he's not roaming or reading, he's sat in front of a painting in an art exhibition. A self-portrait of a woman. He is completely and utterly enamored.

“How was it that a person could bring such happiness to another without really doing anything at all?”

Enter Maria Puder—the literal object of his affection. Raif doesn't see Maria as a woman, but rather something to study or be admired. The Madonna-whore complex is then explored.

“And from somewhere deep inside, I could hear a faint voice warning me: once you have seen someone as she truly is – once you have accepted reality stripped bare – it doesn’t matter who she is: intimacy is no longer possible.”

I did appreciate the feminism from Maria, or at least the attempt from the author. What is expected of women, and the hardships that come alongside it. Men and their leering gazes, the distrust, the fear of denying.

"'As different as you are, you’re still a man … and all the men that I have ever known have ended up leaving in sorrow or anger once they realize I don’t love them, and can never love them … But why, when they say goodbye, do they assume I am the one to blame? Because I never gave them what I promised I never would, or because they convinced themselves it would be otherwise? Isn’t that unfair? I don’t want you to think the same way about me … You can consider that a point in your favor.'"

How many times have women been written as an object for men in literature, while being portrayed as a love interest? I'm not impressed. I think Madonna in a Fur Coat could've been better had it been from Maria's perspective. Maria is an amalgamation of female stereotypes, rather than an actual woman. And while Ali wrote feminism into Maria's beliefs, his misogyny peeked through the pages with throwaway lines about women.

“[...] and like all women she forgot things quickly.”

“She was the quintessential submissive woman. She had lost the ability to go through life alone, or rather she had never acquired it in the first place.”

“My voice was trembling, as befits a man who is about to lose his most precious belonging and the very meaning of his life.”

“Never in my life had anyone loved me, ever. In any case, women were mysterious creatures. Passing my mind over all the women I had known or observed, I was driven to conclude that true love was beyond them. When they were in a position to love, they did not. Instead they ached for the unattainable – the opportunities missed, the salve that their broken hearts longed for – thereby mistaking their yearnings for love.”

I'm almost surprised by the sheer amount of people who suggest this novel is a love story. Obsession is not love. Objectification is not love. For if it is love, then it is love in its most tainted form.

"'If a person truly has the ability to love, then he can never monopolize his beloved. And neither can his beloved monopolize him. The more he spreads his love, the more he adores his one and only true love. When love spreads, it does not diminish.'”

The flowery language and Raif's longing touched me. But when you analyze what he's thinking, and saying... can you call it love? Even if the text explicitly defines it as "love," does that make it true?

“I lost the benefit of her influence. I went back to my old ways. Now I understood just how desperately I needed her. I was not the sort of man who could walk through life alone. I needed her at my side. I could not live without her support.”

She gave him everything, but he gave her... what? Raif and Maria touched me, and some moments made my heart ache, but Raif will not get much else from me. I couldn't stand his self-hatred, hyper-dependence, and obsession being portrayed as love.

Yes, he visited her restlessly, but why? Because, as said earlier, he was afraid to "lose his most precious belonging." His object of affection. His Madonna/Whore. His Manic Pixie Dream girl.

I don't think Madonna in a Fur Coat is a love story as much as it is a story about obsession. The misogyny is expected for its time, but still disappointing. And as much as I loved Sabahattin Ali's writing, I didn't like the story he portrayed.

And I may or may not have cheered when... you know. TLDR: White Nights by Dostoevsky if it sucked.

[حبيبة · Rating 4 out of 5]

مادونا صاحبة معطف الفرو.. رواية رومانسية كلاسيكية من الأدب التركي.. وأنا كلما قرأت كلمة "رومانسية" تحسست مسدسي! لكني وجدت هذه الرواية تختلف!

فيم تختلف؟
اختلافها يكمن في أن كل شعور في هذه الرواية قد وُصف بدقة وبراعة منقطعة النظير! حتى إن كنت تعتقد أن تلك القصة الرومانسية التقليدية لا تستهويك ولا تجذبك، حتمًا ستجد نفسك أمام أحد اقتباسات هذه الرواية تقول "دا حرفيًا أنا" !
وإن لم تكن هذه متعة الأدب، فماذا تكون؟

”ألم يكن أحد أسباب ابتعادي عن محيطي وتوحشي هو عدم إيجادي للشخصيات التي تعرفت عليها في الكتب وتقمصها؟“

رواية عن "الآخر".. ذلك الحب الذي نبحث عنه ونتطلع لتلك العلاقة الجميلة التي يصفها أمل دنقل "أريد علاقة أكون فيها كما لو كنت جالسًا مع نفسي في غرفة مغلقة."

”مذ عرفت نفسي، وأنا أقضي من دون أن أدرك أو أعترف لنفسي، كل أيام عمري بحثًا عن إنسان بعينه، ولذلك كنت أهرب من الناس الآخرين. تلك اللوحة جعلتني أؤمن بإمكانية عثوري على هذا الإنسان، وبأنني قريب منه جدًا، وأيقظت في داخلي أملًا لا يمكن إخماده.“

وهي أيضًا رواية عن الوحدة واليأس والذكريات والفرص الضائعة والندم.. هي رواية عن كل شعور قوي وصادق وحقيقي شعرت به يومًا ولم تستطع وصفه.

”كان في داخلي فراغ دون أن يملأه أحد، وكنت أحس بهذا الفراغ وهو يسحقني فعليًا. شيء ما كان ناقصًا، لكن ما هو؟ كنت كإنسان مهموم يشعر بأنه نسي شيئًا بعد أن خرج من بيته لكن لا يعرف ما هو. يتوقف، يقلب جيوبه، ثم يكمل مشيه بعد أن فقد الأمل في معرفة ما فقد.“

وأخيرًا، اللوحة على الغلاف تحفة! مطابقة للوصف المذكور في الرواية تمامًا، وقادني فضولي للبحث عن صاحبها، وعن ما إذا كانت لوحة حقيقية فعلًا لكني -للأسف- لم أتوصل لمعلومة مفيدة.

حقًا لمست قلبي تلك الرواية، وربما يتغير رأيي في الروايات الرومانسية ككل، فلو كانت مكتوبة بهذه العذوبة فأعتقد أنني يفوتني الكثير!

[emma]

"a classic of love and longing in a changing world" <3

[persephone ☾ · Rating 4 out of 5]

a 500 days of summer vibes of sorts, only with a little twist (the twist being a heartwrenching and tormenting ending <3)

[Amira Mahmoud · Rating 4 out of 5]

في الحب؛ لا شيء يعبر عن وجهة نظري بكل دقة كتلك الجملة التي قالتها ميلينا لكافكا في أحدى رسائلهما "وإن كنت مجرد جثة في العالم فأنا أحبك" وبغض الطرف عن قائلها ومتلقيها وعن قصتهما معًا، وبغض الطرف عن تحول تلك الجملة مؤخرًا إلى أحدى التريندات كالمعتاد، وبغض الطرف عن كل شيء عدا عمق تلك الجملة فإنها تعبر تمامًا بلا زيادة ولا نقصان عن مفهوم الحب لديّ.
يُقال إنك حين تحب لا ترى إلا مزايا من تحب، تلك الأشياء اللامعة والبراقة به التي تجذبك إليه كالمغناطيس، تتأملها، تتشبعها، حتى أنك تود لو تحفرها داخلك وهناك وجهة نظر أخرى أكثر مثالية تقول أنه حتى تلك الأشياء القبيحة في الحبيب، عيوبه كبشريّ، يراها المحب مزايا حتى وإن كانت هي الأشياء عينها التي يبغضها في السابق آلاف المرات.
هل لهذا يُقال أن الحب أعمى؟ وهل لمثل هذا الحب أن يدوم؟ ماذا إذا عاد لأحدهما بصره؟

في رأيي الحب الذي يدوم حقًا هو ذلك الذي يتعرى فيه كل طرف ويتجرد عن عيوبه، هذا يتطلب ثقة أعمق، جرأة أعمق وبالتالي محبة أعمق!
هل هذا كل ما في الأمر؟ لا ليس فقط اظهار العيوب ولا حتى تقبلها والرضا بها على مضض بما يسمى سخافة التضحية، وكأننا لا نملك نحن أيضًا عيوبًا يكلف الطرف الآخر نفسه عناء تقبلها أيضًا بل الحالة الأسمى هي تلك التي ترى عيوب من تحب فيها وتتقبلها كجزء أصيل منه، من شخصيته ووجوده دون أن تقوم بتغييره وإعادة تصليحه من جديد وكأننا آلهة تقوم بنحت وترميم خلق آلهة أخرى فقط لأن ذلك الخلق لا يعجبها!
هل لهذا أحببت مادونا صاحبة معطف الفرو؟ بالطبع؛ فكلا البطلين ها هنا يدرك عيوب الآخر؛ كلاهما كان يدرك أنه ربما سيعاني مع الآخر فهو يدرك تمامًا كم هي تالفة، منهكة، وربما لن تستطيع أن تبذل جهدًا كبيرًا في الحب وهي كانت تدرك هشاشته، توحده مع ذاته، كانت تخبره دومًا أنه يشبه الفتيات هكذا وكأن الأمر لا يستحق أن تتوقف عنده كثيرًا وهذا هو تمامًا –في رأيي- جوهر جملة ميلينا؛ وإن كنت مجرد جثة في العالم فأنا-لا يهمني لأنني- أحبك.
هكذا أفهم هذه الجملة كلما قرأتها!

هل هذا فقط هو ما جعلني أحببت قصة مادونا وذلك الفتى التركي؟ لا؛ فبعيدًا عن ثرثرتي الخاصة بالعيوب وما إلى ذلك (فهذه لا تعدو كونها أحدى تحليلاتي/شطحاتي السخيفة حين اقرأ عملاً ما وأنغمس فيه) لكننى أحببتها لذاتها، لخفتها؛ أحب قصص الحب الرشيقة؛ تلك التي لا تبذل جهدًا كبيرًا كي تبرهن عن وجودها وحضورها، عن تفردها؛ بلا إفراط يفقدها رومانسيتها ويحولها إلى شيء لزج، ولا بعقلانية زائدة تحولها من شيء كلاسيكي ناعم إلى جمود لا يشبه قصص الحب أبدًا.
حين تأتي فكرة الحب إلى ذهني أتخيل أكواب كثيرة من القهوة، دخان سجائر وثرثرة لا تنتهي عن الكُتب والكتابة وكل ما يشبههما؛ أحيانًا أخرى أتخيله مقطوعة موسيقية شاعرية يصاحبها حديث محموم عن الأفلام؛ وأحيانًا أخرى أتخيله لوحة فنية لا يفهمها أحد ولا حتى الرسام يقف أمامها اثنين بصمت؛ في مادونا صاحبة معطف الفرو كانت قصتهما تشبه كثيرًا تخيلي الثالث؛ وإن كان ببعض الأختلافات الطفيفة وبعض الأضافات التي تمثل الحب القديم آنذاك كيف كان صعبًا، كيف كان عزيزًا، وكيف كان ذلك يزيد من تفرده وتوهجه عكس ما هو متوقع تمامًا.
حين أنتهيت منها رفعت رأسي بحيرة، وتساءلت؛ لما لم يعد الحب في جيلنا بمثل هذا الجمال والشاعرية؟

الرواية ممتعة، كنت أشعر وأنا اقرأ الجزء الأول منها وكأنني بداخل أحدى روايات دوستويفسكي بشخوصها الكثيرة والمتشعبة وفي الجزء الثاني كنت أشعر وكأنني في أحدى روايات غيوم ميسو الرومانسية وروايات كونديرا التي تمزج بين الفلسفة والحب؛ الفارق ها هنا هو أن فلسفة هذه الرواية بسيطة وخفيفة كما أسلوب كاتبها.

تمنيت لو أنه حين عاد إلى الجزء الأول مرة ثانية في النهاية كان حاول استكماله بشكل أعمق، بطريقة يتعرض معها لكل شخصية من شخصيات تلك العائلة الكبيرة ومصير كل منهم بعد تحول الأحداث.
وددت لو كان أستغل كاتبها غزارة مادته في خلق مزيد من الصفحات/الحيوات الأخرى
لكنها وفي كل الأحوال تظل رواية ممتعة ولطيفة.

تمّت