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265 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 2009
My novel Every Fire You Tend stands as a question mark that opens the threshold onto this corrupted world, precisely as it was seen by Hızır and my grandmother. If what we call the novel is an art, then at the same time it is a chamber with two doors that declares a secret undisclosable, that maps safe country for all the exiles of the world, wandering in search of their place. I have reserved a place here for my grandmother, yet I haven’t managed to fit the shame of being human, the shame that she left to me, onto a single page. The more I explored the details of the Dersim Massacre, the heartrending photographs and historical documents that came to light, the more I have come to refuse the notion of inuring the reader to this violence, by making a novel about how this massacre began and how it ended, by portraying these people, already so horribly dehumanized, as if this were their only fate, their only essence, frozen in place and time.The protagonist of the novel, an unnamed woman in Istanbul, is addressed mainly in the second person by the incorporeal narrator, who also has agency as a character in her own right:
You are my lot in life, you are my touch, my appetite. So why am I a wound, intensified in your absence? My nose is perpetually filled with the smell of burning, and I am scorched by every fire you tend. (pg 162, "Every Fire You Tend")