Volver a casa

by Aysegül Savas

Después de la muerte de su madre, Nunu abandona Estambul para instalarse en un pequeño departamento en París. Desencantada de la vida, mata el tiempo dando largas caminatas sin rumbo. Un día, la casualidad la lleva a cruzarse con M., un famoso escritor británico al que siempre ha admirado. Él le cuenta que está trabajando en una nueva novela ambientada en Turquía, por lo que Nunu aprovecha para impresionarlo hablándole sobre la belleza de los paisajes que la marcaron, los juegos que inventaba cuando era niña y los fantásticos veranos con sus abuelos. Sin embargo, a medida que sus encuentros se vuelven más frecuentes, la insistencia de M. por conocer más de su vida obligará a Nunu a sumergirse en recuerdos que tal vez no quiere recuperar: la difícil relación con su madre, el suicidio de su padre y la verdad detrás de las historias que se había contado para seguir adelante. Volver a casa es una novela inteligente acerca de una joven que busca encontrar su lugar en el mundo al unir todas las piezas de su pasado. Una obra sobre la memoria familiar, la magia de la creatividad y aquellos sitios, reales o imaginarios, que nos acompañarán toda la vida.

Genres: Fiction, Literary Fiction, Contemporary, France, Novels, Audiobook, Turkish

Paperback

Published March 1, 2021

About the author

Ayşegül Savaş grew up in London, Copenhagen, and Istanbul. Her work has appeared in The New Yorker, The Paris Review, and Granta, among others. She lives in Paris.

Reviews

[♑︎♑︎♑︎ ♑︎♑︎♑︎ · Rating 4 out of 5]

This novel slipped into my hand when I meant to be reading something else and I'm so glad it did. It creates a mood and a reality that captivated me as I read. The cadence and music of the language gripped me. A very difficult kind of novel to pull off and one that I won't forget, in fact, I'm likely to turn around and read it again soon.

[Paltia · Rating 4 out of 5]

At one point in this story Nunu is asked if she had dropped her invisible thread to M. Nunu is a young woman who has dropped this thread to several people from her past. She leaves London and her relationship with Luke behind when she learns her mother is ill. She returns to Istanbul to care for her until her death. With that she leaves a city she no longer recognizes and heads for Paris. Here she meets M an author. She knows M through his books and feels an affinity with him even before they meet. As fate would have it they begin a relationship that is, at first, based solely on corresponding. The loss of her parents and home as she once knew it has left her feeling empty. Those threads are gone. She is seeking a way to reconnect with life. For a time, through their letters, M appears to offer Nunu a way through her loss. He could be a person that will bring some peace into her troubled life. They share stories and a place of refuge. She begins to rely on M as her anchor in the storm. They eventually agree to meet in person. For a time he offers a hand that reaches out to steady her when life’s lessons are hard. Does he guide her to remembering the stories she shares? “That’s how I remember our friendship. We passed our stories back and forth until they merged. And with each pass, we lightened our own burden.” Though she is hard pressed to fully explain why, she acknowledges that her fear causes change. A shield is raised - a shield made of assumptions and anxieties. Words and gestures can be misused and misinterpreted to cause skepticism and separation. The temporary unity that replaced her desolation and fragmentation when they first connected and held the invisible thread seems to be gone. This is a rather sad and lonely story with a spark of growth and self realization. Human weaknesses and woundings are coupled with Nunu’s ability to find a way to a more enduring understanding of how she influenced and in turn was influenced by others.

[Will · Rating 4 out of 5]

Aysegül Savas’ slim debut novel is strange and lovely, captivating yet elusive. Without a clearly defined linear plot, the novel is constructed on the narrator’s memories, presented in short chapters, often no more than a page or two, even a single sentence. The bulk of the novel alternates between Paris with its memories of a friendship with an unnamed British author and Istanbul with memories of an often puzzling and painful childhood. These memories can be sharp and clear or purposely evasive. The writing itself is spare, elegant, permeated with melancholy and a deep sense of loneliness, prose where a single sentence can startle and resonate deeply.

[Krista · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some days, it's difficult to believe that this friendship really existed – with its particular logic, its detachment from the world. What I remember has the texture of a dream, an invention, a strange and weightless suspension, like walking on the ceiling.

Walking on the Ceiling is a strange little novel to pigeonhole – it's so wispy and spare, yet sketches a life in a way that we all would recognise as faithful to the processes of memory, storytelling, and self-mythologising. With a main character who thinks about her time in Paris after she returns to her hometown of Istanbul, and who had spent her time in Paris talking about Istanbul, the reader is not only treated to an intimate portrait of both cities but is witness to a damaged young woman's coming-of-age; a reckoning with her past and a squaring off to the future. Everything feels small about this book – from the weight of it in the hands to chapters as brief as two sentences – but its impact is big; call me impressed with this debut by Turkish writer Ayşegül Savaş. (Note: I read an ARC and passages quoted may not be in their final forms.)

I think more and more these days that I should set down some of the facts of my friendship with M., to keep something of this time intact. But stories are reckless things, blind to everything but their own shape. When you tell a story, you set out to leave so much behind. And I have to admit that there is no shape in those long walks and conversations, even if I think of them often.

As Nurunisa (Nunu) tells her story, we learn that she was raised in Instanbul – her father was a poet who died young and her mother never quite got over her widowhood – and in order to escape the sadness of her homelife, Nunu went abroad to study; eventually enrolling in a Masters program in literature in Paris. While in Paris, she meets the famous British author she refers to only as “M.” – a man whose popular English language books about Istanbul had been a favourite of Nunu's, but which her mother mocked as obviously the limited views of a foreigner – and as the pair strike up a friendship and begin to go on long walks around the city and have frequent email conversations, Nunu finds herself carefully choosing and shaping the sorts of stories that she'll tell the author about the reality of having grown up in Istanbul – stories that are often not faithful to that reality, or stories of her mother's that she has co-opted as her own. As the book goes on and Nunu remembers conversations that she had had with her undergrad college roommate and a later live-in boyfriend, she reveals that this cribbing and fibbing is something she has always done – to her roommate, making her mother sound lovely; to her boyfriend, making her sound horrid. The shortest chapter in its entirety:

I'm trying to say that I've tried to tell a story about her many times. But none have resembled my mother.

Because Walking on the Ceiling is a book about writers (Nunu herself becomes a journalist at a travel magazine after she returns to a now volatile Istanbul), there are frequent meditations on the nature of writing and storytelling (which is something I like when it's done well, as it is here). On the one hand, one assumes that M. will appropriate Nunu's stories for his latest “Thracian” novel, but on the other, she's aware of that fact and carefully curates what she shares; it's hard to say who's using whom, and especially when these conversations help Nunu to sort things out in her own mind.

Stories have their own logic. For one thing, a story can only be told once it has an ending. For another, it builds, and then unravels. Each element of a story is essential; its time will come and it will ultimately mean something. In this way, stories are accountable, because they can look you in the eye.

Eventually, each element in this novel reveals its importance along the way, and Nunu's story feels both particular and universal. The fact that this happens in so short a space feels powerful and precise. A lovely read.

[Maddie C. · Rating 4 out of 5]

Three and a half stars.

'Walking on the Ceiling' is a beautiful slim debut novel that unravels a writer of incredible maturity and establishes Aysegül Savas as a talent to watch. I got a sense of familiarity while reading this story, which reminded me of Elena Ferrante’s My Brilliant Friend in voice and Lisa Halliday’s Asymmetry in some of its themes -- however, 'Walking on the Ceiling' is still its own work of art.

More a slice of life novel than a plot-driven one, we are introduced to Nurunisa or, Nunu, as everyone refers to her, as she recounts the events of a summer in Paris and her childhood in Istanbul. Besides being a beautiful love letter to both cities, with its lush descriptions, the story is also charged with a subtle melancholy and, at the same time, a sense of urgency, as we follow Nunu’s coming-of-age tale and learn how her troubled relationship with her mother and father shaped her to become who she is and how she connects with other people (notably, M., the british writer she befriends in Paris, but also with other minor figures in her life, like her friends in Istanbul or her college roommate, Molly). As the novel relies heavily on Nunu’s memories of events, there is also discussions of memory, in the vein of Patrick Modiano (which is listed as an influence in the ‘acknowledgements’ section) and how fickle it is, how certain events may seem important at a certain time only to vanish completely later and how two people can recall the same occurrences in different ways. It is this rich interior life that makes the novel interesting and Nunu great company to spend an afternoon with.

In the end, while there isn’t exactly a neat “happily ever after”, we sense a glimpse of hope for the acceptance of one’s self in the arc of an otherwise tortured character.

[Skip · Rating 1 out of 5]

I really cannot think of anything good to say about this one, except that it was not very long. It jumped all over the place, and we learned nothing about two magical cities (Paris and Istanbul) nor anything meaningful about Nunu's Turkish culture. The non-linear presentation made the book hard to follow as well. Do yourself a favor and skip this one.

[Elyse Walters · Rating 4 out of 5]

Audiobook….read by Mozhan Marno
…..3 hours and 48 minutes

I chose this book after having thoroughly enjoyed “White on White”, by Aysegul Savas,….(both are only around 200 pages).
This book, “Walking on the Ceiling” was Savas’ first book- her debut. I’m glad it was translated in English…..and will continue to read more of her work that also gets translated (Savas is from Spain).

I’m aware Aysegul Savas’s writing is not for everyone…(boring for some-not enough plot) - but I really enjoyed ‘both’ books….
I like Savas writing — and I found this story as affecting as ‘White on White’. I also happen to enjoy stories that leave a lot of room for introspective contemplating.

There’s a lot of walking and talking in this story (anyone who knows me well, knows I love ‘walking and talking a lot myself)…… The walks in this tale take place in Paris and Turkey. Having been to both places — it was an imaginative visual real experience for me.

Nanu grew up taking walks with her mother in Istanbul. After moving to Paris for school which she drops out soon enough -she meets a much older man - a British writer named M. His books are set in Turkey. She and M did a lot of walking and talking — talking about his books. She also opens up to him about her complicated relationship with her mother.
Her father committed suicide when she was a young girl….affecting and changing Nanu’s relationship with her mother -
Nanu also had a boyfriend, Luke, whom she lived with in London for a short period. This wasn’t a huge part of the book — but it was memorable in that we see how Nanu is trying to find her own way as a young adult…..who clearly is just beginning to open up to the tragedies she lived through when younger.
Nanu begins writing about her life…after she moves back home to Istanbul…..

The conflict —the sadness that lingers is really between Nanu and her mother (ha - a running theme showing up fairly often in my reading recently)….
Memories haunt — they are unreliable — yet they can still occupy a large part of our thinking and pain. (yes, I relate)…

But ….what I was left with — while the cities of Paris and Istanbul were coming alive through the beautiful descriptions of both cities — I felt so was Nanu….she was slowly coming alive too….
So, while there was much sadness in content …there was beauty in Nanu regaining consciousness of who she was.
I thought this book was tender, meaningful, real, raw, and beautiful…..with lovely writing.


4.5 stars for me ….I liked “White on White” slightly more

[luce (cry bebè's back from hiatus) · Rating 2 out of 5]

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I don't mind plotless novels or meandering stories but there has to be something that holds my attention. Some of my favourite books feature characters with little to no backstory, and simply focus on a time of their life or certain feelings that they experience throughout the course of their life. What I am 'getting at' is that I started Walking on the Ceiling knowing that I wasn't going to get a straightforward story. However, even if I was prepared for a more 'metaphysical' type of novel, I wasn't expecting such a pointlessly self-indulgent narrative.
The nonlinear timeline makes the story all the more irritating. There is this narrator who could as well be nameless given how boring she is. Her only characteristic is that she lies or acts in obscure ways for no reason whats-over. Although she is presented as this deep and complex character who is grappling with her past, she is a self-pitying and singularly uninteresting individual. A few months ago I read The Far Field which featured a very 'remote' main character, but there her self-restraint worked well. I believed her and why she was unable to express herself to others characters and the readers. But here....the protagonist comes across as detestably obnoxious whilst claiming that she is a selfless and 'lost' person. To top it all off she is extremely judgemental towards others and provides no explanation for her 'remoteness'. The advantages she had in life are swept aside to focus on her 'sad' parents. Boo-hoo.
The different timelines are confounding and all this background adds little emotion to the narrative.
The chapters tended to end rather abruptly, often cutting through the flow of the story or interrupting the narrator's contemplation or thoughts.
The thing I did enjoy was the way Istanbul was portrayed. The city seemed far more nuanced than anything else in this novel.
Overall, this was trying too hard to be something abstract and introspective. It would have worked with a compelling narrator; regardless if this character had likeable or dislikable attributes, as long as they were believable and fleshed out their story could have been a cohesive and thoughtful introspective journey, rather than this patently elusive mess.

[Alex · Rating 5 out of 5]

I fell in love with the quiet intensity of Savas's narrator, Nunu. The story is framed by Nunu’s move from Istanbul to Paris, and the friendship she strikes up with an older British author as she skips out on university classes and wanders from café to café. It’s a kind of travel narrative, in the geographical shift between the two cities, in Nunu’s memories of a rapidly shifting and morphing Istanbul, and in her own processing of trauma, loss, and identity. What truly propels the narrative, however, is Nunu’s rich and complex interior – she is sharp, critically observant, quick and blunt in her analysis of the driving motivations of those around her. She’s also deeply imaginative – the book is filled with her poetic articulations of the world around her. Each chapter is short – the longest are 5-6 pages – and vignette-like in its snapshot of Nunu’s past or present, making the book wonderful for shorter or longer sittings. There’s so much to process and return to here. I’m excited to hand-sell it in April, and eagerly await more from this new voice in fiction.

[Byurakn · Rating 5 out of 5]

After an exhausting and stressful week and nobody showing up at a social event I had organized I stopped at a bookstore on my way home. This is how I came across "Walking on the Ceiling". I rarely buy anything without having a bit of an idea what I am buying. And this was one of these rare occasions. I bought the book because of the author's name, because she has lived in Copenhagen and because the brief description on the back of the book was all too familiar.

"Walking on the Ceiling" is the story of a young woman named Nunu. Originally from Istanbul, she moves to Paris after her mother's death to pursue her romantic dream of being a writer in Paris. This is where she befriends M., an author whose novels she had read and loved.

The best books are the relatable ones. And this is one of them. This is not only the story of Nunu but also those of us who have moved to a European city as a young woman, all alone, with nobody to talk to. This is the story of us longing for friendships like the one Nunu had with M. but, unlike Nunu, we never got it. This is the story of a complex mother-daughter relationship that some of us know too well. This is the story of those of us who have left their lives behind, trying to disconnect and distance themselves from their origins and yet it keeps coming back in the form of stories to tell to the people we meet. And this is the story of reconnection and reconciliation with our roots.

But above all "Walking on the Ceiling" is a love letter to Istanbul.

There is also the subtle commentary to the political situation in Turkey, the celebration of Middle Eastern women that are so much looked down on in the West and the typical white man's character who doesn't really get it.

The book is really well written and it also affects the reader at a certain emotional level. It triggers your own memories and your own stories. If you are a young woman who has moved to a big city on her own at some point in her life, this is a must read for you.

[Nick · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was so impressed by The Anthropologists that I decided to try out the author’s first novel. I don’t think “Walking on the Ceiling” is as focused (though that could partly be because of the book’s major theme of memory and its unreliability), but Savaş’s pared down style is already on full force here (impressive since this is her debut). Like in “The Anthropologists,” we follow an expat, a setup I’m almost always going to be interested in. In this story that expat is named Nunu, and she’s in Paris. We spend a lot of time jumping between memories of her life in Istanbul vs. Paris, but it’s easy enough to follow along. As is usually the case in real life when people speak about their memories and pasts to others, Nunu’s recollections aren’t always the full picture, and she sometimes purposefully misremembers or misrepresents things. It makes for a really fascinating pov. I’m thinking a 3.5 rounded up for this one.

[Weltschmerz · Rating 4 out of 5]

Iako me roman The Anthropologist koji sam prvi čitala nije impresionirao, štaviše, bilo mi je teško da oformim bilo kakvo mišljenje o njemu, autorkin stil me je motivisao da potražim i njena druga dela i debitantski roman je bio to što sam tražila.
Ne znam zašto su (mi) debitantski romani bolji od kasnijih, zdrav razum kaže da ne ni trebalo tako da bude, ali pošto ovu autorku porede sa Sali Runi (meni nije slično btw), setimo se da je (meni) i njen prvi roman najbolji na svetu a sve posle toga (nadam se) priprema za buduće remek-delo koje će napisati jednog dana. Hoću da kažem, nije neobično što je ovaj roman (meni) daleko uspeliji.

Ali ono što sam zapravo htela da kažem je da mi se kod ove autorke najviše dopada to koliko mi je bliska. Ne znam da li je reč o kulturološkoj, geografskoj, generacijskoj bliskosti, svakako mi se u oba romana činilo da je poznajem i verovatno me je baš taj osećaj familijarnosti odvukao da pročitam i drugi roman.

Biće ovo još jedan u nizu prikaza koji su više o meni nego o knjizi, ali praštajte, verna publiko, meni je ova mreža ipak samo dnevnik čitanja.

Predlažem da s Aysegul Savas krenete odavde, otpočetka.

[Puella Sole · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nesvakidašnje lijepo pisanje, tok misli i ritam rečenica koji nekako prirodno teku. Nenametljivo, istančano, blago, sa sveprisutnom dozom neke fine melanholije, spaja pisanje/pričanje sa šetnjom, na tragu nekih dobro nam znanih sjajnih knjiga. Ova autorka mi je zaista jedno od dražih otkrića u posljednje vrijeme.

[Tamara Agha-Jaffar · Rating 5 out of 5]

Walking on the Ceiling by Aysegül Savas unfolds in the first-person point of view of Nunu. The narrative consists of two, intertwining threads. In the first thread, Nunu recalls her past: growing up in Istanbul, living in London with her then boyfriend, and her complex relationship with her mother. The second thread consists of Nunu as a student in Paris and her attachment to the author M. She describes their long walks together through the streets of Paris, their conversations, and the stories they share. The novel takes the form of flashbacks and short vignettes. It has little to no plot.

Nunu’s interior is rich, complex, and mesmerizing. Her voice is intimate, allowing brief glimpses of her troubled childhood, the mind-games she plays with her mother, and their failed attempts at connection. She is intentionally evasive about her past, dropping hints here and there but never elaborating. Her critical observations and analyses are reserved for those around her and for the city streets she frequents in the alternating cities. The short, non-linear chapters, sometimes no longer than one or two lines, replicate the snippets of memory she conjures.

By her own admission, Nunu lies. She creates fictionalized versions of herself to enchant the people around her. She fabricates a version of her home life to her boyfriend in England, a different version to her university roommate, and yet another version to M. She lies to her mother and aunts about her life in Paris. She appropriates and embellishes her mother’s stories, claiming them as her own. She lies to M by claiming to write a novel about her mother’s former neighbor. Her identity is fluid. She determines what her audience needs to see in her, and she obliges by projecting the required persona. As a result, she remains an enigma both to her audience and to her readers.

The writing is elegant and spare; the tone is intimate, muted, and permeated with a profound sense of loneliness. Nunu is never boring. We watch as she gets close to an individual and then retreats if she feels she is revealing too much of herself or her life. Her vivid imagination enables her to describe scenes and characters with the eyes of a poet. Her uncanny ability to focus on seemingly inconsequential details enables her to speak volumes about a character by, for example, simply focusing on his hand gestures. Her voice is hypnotic.

This is a stunning novel in which the action—if it can even be called action—consists of a fascinating exploration of a character’s interiority and the role memory and story-telling play in creating fictionalized versions of herself.

Highly recommended.

My book reviews are also available at www.tamaraaghajaffar.com

[Kristina Libby · Rating 5 out of 5]

Carefully cultivated and simply explained — this sad, charming story is worth reading both to see Istanbul, and Paris but also to glimpse yourself.

[Lisa · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this novel. I don’t recommend it for any reader who wants action and plot. This is more an introspective look at the personas we project into the world and now our memories are formed and manipulated and told to create these personas. I love reflections of cities and the narrator creates personas of London, Paris, and Istanbul. Like the way she invents herself, she creates versions of these cities with some truths, some omissions, and some embellishments. She retreats further from people she cares about as she realizes that she is giving away too much of herself and her home city. By protecting herself and her beloved but changing Istanbul, she yearns for what is not and mourns for what is lost. This is beautiful for reflection.

[Shawn Mooney (Shawn Breathes Books)]

I did nearly half of this on audio but despite the wonderful audio narration and the lovely prose, the novel’s meandering self-indulgence defeated me utterly.

[Lulufrances · Rating 3 out of 5]

I wouldn't be surprised to see this on many bookclublists or instagram accounts, as it's exactly the kind of fast read with a lot of underlying themes of grief and mother-daughter relationship and evocative settings (Istanbul/Paris), that would garner that sort of attention.
(I mean I was intrigued by the setting alone, which is why it ended up high priority on my wishlist.)

Somewhat detached but with some meaningful sentences popping up once in a while that pack a punch.
All in all it didn't have a strong impact on me though and it is perhaps forgettable, were it not for the way Savas transports the vibe of the two cities - I kinda want to visit the Istanbul of Nunu's childhood.

Nunu, the main character got on my nerves a bit and made me cringe with her constant wanting to be perceived as someone she isn't, always inventing and constructing herself and the anecdotes she tells M.
Her quest for love and being accepted, perhaps, and definitely point of the story, but I still didn't enjoy watching her act that way.

So, in conclusion - nice enough, fast summer read with tiny chapters, however I don't feel like I got my money's worth with this 17 Euro paperback.

[Christine · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 rounded up to 5. In this book, there is no great catastrophe or calamity or climax. There is simply a quiet, understated story of a young woman telling of her association with M, and grieving the loss of her mother. There's a bit more to it than that - more introspection - but you'll discover that for yourself when you read it. For me, this was a very good read.

Aug 2021 - I enjoyed this as much the second time around.

[Cherise Wolas · Rating 4 out of 5]

This elegiac debut novel is elegant and mosaic-like, unfolding in 72 short chapters mostly two or three pages long. It's about time and truth, place, identity, and dislocation. The voice captures two time periods: as-it's-happening young womanhood in Paris and the considered view from the future of wiser age returned then to Istanbul. Nunu, the first-person narrator, seeking to escape the fraught relationship with her mother, enrolls in a literature course in Paris, and leaves Istanbul. A course she never actually attends. She is disconnected in Paris and takes herself to a bookstore event specifically to hear the much older and famous writer named M. speak, whose Istanbul-set novels she's read and admired. As the novel opens, Nunu wants to preserve her memories from her time in Paris (now in the past), the long walks she took with M., with whom she had a real connection, that perhaps she hadn't felt since her father who died when she was young. M and Nunu write emails to each other, telling each other stories, and take those long walks through Paris. This is not a tale about an older male writer taking advantage of a young woman writer, but there is an imbalance nonetheless, that Nunu overcomes, deciding no longer to tell stories to M that she thinks he wants to hear--this though seems to be her view and perhaps not the truth. We learn about Nunu's father and his premature death, her distant mother seemingly saddled by depression, the game Nunu played as a child having to do with silence, the stories she told to her college roommate Molly about her family, as if her childhood had taken place in a movie, and to her former British boyfriend Luke, as they both delved into the psychology of family life. There is a fluidity of personal narrative in all of our lives, but Nunu seems to have taken it just a bit farther, each of these people in her life would surely have a different view of her. Set against the backdrop of a young woman trying to come into her own, the novel moves between Paris and Istanbul, as she looks back. The Istanbul Nunu left was one place; the Istanbul she returns to, still as a young woman, just as her friends are leaving, is filled with change and political menaces. The notion of personas is primary here, and when the book concludes, we don't yet know who Nunu really was, or who she's become.

[S · Rating 4 out of 5]

I always find it hardest to review books that I've fallen in love with. There seems to be absolutely nothing to criticise, and far too much to praise. No review could do this book justice.

Filled with wistful, sparse prose and profound observations; Walking on the Ceiling is one of those stories that leave you with the deepest ache for something you cannot name. It is honest, startling so- to the point where there seems to be no distinction between the narrator of this story and the author of the book. I could not believe it was fictional. It hurt too much to be imagined.

If she saw or heard me around the house, she would come and talk to me, or ask if I was hungry. She asked kindly, like an apology.

The relationship between the Nunu and her mother is both achingly beautiful and deeply unsettling in its truth. Nunu's correspondence, M., is one of the most real characters I have had the pleasure of meeting, despite the intentional obscurity of his character. The Istanbul culture pulls at your heart without becoming too melodramatic.

Savas is intentionally sparse, in both her story and her writing. While some may find this to be a nuisance, I thought it was a beautiful gesture of trust. Savas trusts her readers enough to know that they are capable of drawing their own conclusions, and I loved her for it. Instead of worrying over her audience, she makes every sentence sing. She treats her words so delicately, you feel as though they will shatter if you speak them aloud.

A strange, slim novel, Walking on the Ceiling is a bittersweet read, and one that will not leave me anytime soon.

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[James B · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great book. A young woman jumps through time as she remembers her childhood in Istanbul, college in England and months she spent in Paris, striking up a friendship with a famous author that she calls M. Short chapters that cumulatively add up to so much. A wonderful first book.

[Simone · Rating 4 out of 5]

A young woman named Nunu moves from Istanbul to Paris following her mother’s death. She befriends M., an older British writer whose books about Istanbul she has always admired. Their friendship is built around long walks through Paris and the sharing of stories about family and home. This storytelling also causes her to confront issues in her past. As their friendship deepens, Nunu fears giving too much or herself away to M.

Savas is a beautiful writer who expertly wove together the various worlds that Nunu inhabited. This very much reads like a series of journal entries with one thought leading into the next thus painting a picture of how memories are connected. Savas writing gives insight into how we remember and how we tell stories. Throughout the book I could never quite tell if Nunu was remembering correctly or if her memories were colored by past feelings or perceived slights. To write a novel about reflection in this way made the story that much more interesting and also caused me as the reader to question my own memories and the stories I tell about them.

[Sara-Elizabeth · Rating 1 out of 5]

Let me borrow a phrase from someone else's review: "captivating yet elusive."
I must have forgotten to be captivated, but elusive is the perfect word to describe this. I don't mind books containing a series of vignettes. I don't mind the absence of a plot *or* the absence of character development. What made this book so *elusive* was the absence of both. I read every page waiting to figure out what the book was about - was it about M? About Nunu? About Paris? About the conflict in Turkey? About family? About abuse or mental illness or fame or pretending or any one of a hundred things the author went half an inch deep on and then abandoned, leaving you with nothing but unanswered questions you didn't even know how to phrase? In the end, the book seemed to be about nothing, and I'm not sure how you publish that, much less sell it.

[Maria · Rating 4 out of 5]

A steadily-stacked build into something that knocked me down for a bit

[Billy-Ray Belcourt · Rating 5 out of 5]

A novel about art and grief and Istanbul and Paris that I loved because it is so much like life: fragmented and full of recollection, yearning.

[Sarah · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 rounded down

[Cody · Rating 3 out of 5]

I think I finally understand what is meant by ‘Literary Fiction.’

[Emma]

New staff pick alert 😳

[Kim · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is my book for Popsugar prompt 26 - a book published in 2019
I experienced this as an audiobook and loved both the story and Mozhan Marnò's narration

This book tells the stories of Nunu, a Turkish woman in Paris after her mother's death, and her relationship with the author M. It also tells the story of Nunu's relationship with her mother and with Istanbul.
It is also about memory and relationships, stories and expectations. Nunu shared short pieces from her lives - her life in Istanbul with her ailing mother, her life as a child in a vibrant city she loved, her life as a young student entranced by and with M.

There is no real narrative, no beginning, middle and end in a traditional sense. But instead there is a beautiful meander through two different cities and two different relationships. Both cities are described with such love that the human relationships have some real competition.

Nunu's grief at the loss of her mother and the odd situation with M thread through this story too - i often felt a deep loneliness coming from her tinged with regret at things not done or said.

A very lovely book with hidden depths and if done as an audiobook, covered in the silky smoothness of Marnò's beautiful voice.
Considering this is a debut novel I am even more impressed by it and hope Savas keeps creating.