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White on White
A student moves to the city to research Gothic nudes, renting an apartment from a painter, Agnes, who lives in another town with her husband. One day, Agnes arrives in the city and settles into the upstairs studio.
Agnes tells stories of her youth, her family, her marriage, and ideas for her art. As the months pass, it becomes clear that Agnes might not have a place to return to. Her stories are frenetic; her art scattered and unfinished, white paint on a white canvas.
White on White is a sharp exploration of what it means to be truly vulnerable and laid bare.
Agnes tells stories of her youth, her family, her marriage, and ideas for her art. As the months pass, it becomes clear that Agnes might not have a place to return to. Her stories are frenetic; her art scattered and unfinished, white paint on a white canvas.
White on White is a sharp exploration of what it means to be truly vulnerable and laid bare.
Paperback
First published December 7, 2021
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7243 people want to read
About the author
Aysegül Savas
12 books634 followersAyşegül 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.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 372 reviews
November 18, 2021
Okay, so I'm a sucker for slim books about painting where characters have intense philosophical discussions and not much happens on the surface for the first two thirds...I fully concede that this is a weakness of mine.
So I loved this.
So I loved this.
November 24, 2021
White on White is a deceptively sinister novel on the liminal spaces of various dualities and how they are reflected in art and personal intimacy. Nearly every sentence of this novel mines the depths of contrast and foil. The clearest comparison I can make is to Rachel Cusk’s “Outline,” in which the narrator absorbs the tellings of others with minimal feedback herself. The narrator of White on White similarly remains a mystery, painted in a similar manner as the title suggests. As she absorbs the stories of a painter from whom she is renting an apartment, Savas gradually deceives the reader in crafting characters containing hidden depths kept at arm’s-length. I let out a quiet “whoaaaaa….” upon reaching the final pages. I was left in awe at the pure craft of this novel. Intimate yet distant, complex yet digestible, the novel itself emulates the art and relationships at the center of this story. I plan to read to this one frequently, as an example of how what a novel hides from us is just as important as what it reveals.
May 2, 2022
—sublime —sparse —eloquent —evocative translucent — prose.
The faceted and interesting characters jump off the page into your heads and crack your heart open….
…with one intriguing sentence after another.
Aysegul Savas can easily be compared to Rachel Cusk.
A nameless- narrator-PhD student rents an European apartment for the summer to work on her thesis. She is studying Gothic nude sculptures of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.
Her landlord, Agnes moves into the upstairs studio who is working on ‘white paintings’ of the human figure.
Conversations develop over days and weeks with these two women…..
It’s clear Agnes is lonely… she values and respects solidarity… but is craving quality connection.
She moves into the upstairs studio in the apartment that she originally rented to the phD student.
First the women have coffee…
Then Agnes shares about her adult children, her marriage, her au pair, parents, work, philosophies, opinions about Art versus craftsmanship… etc.
Boundaries are beginning to get shady……
I began to get a feeling that the entire book was a remnant of an entirely medieval different world — yet it felt modern at the same time —
Even opening up a packet of sugar — or walking into an antique shop — or a fruit basket gift — had a profound puzzling inquisitiveness to it that kept me thinking long after finishing this slim gem.
The spellbound visual - cryptic- descriptive storytelling conversations are crafted with perfection…crystallizing ordinary contemporary literary brilliance!!!
I couldn’t have loved it more!!!
Thank you, Adam.
The faceted and interesting characters jump off the page into your heads and crack your heart open….
…with one intriguing sentence after another.
Aysegul Savas can easily be compared to Rachel Cusk.
A nameless- narrator-PhD student rents an European apartment for the summer to work on her thesis. She is studying Gothic nude sculptures of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.
Her landlord, Agnes moves into the upstairs studio who is working on ‘white paintings’ of the human figure.
Conversations develop over days and weeks with these two women…..
It’s clear Agnes is lonely… she values and respects solidarity… but is craving quality connection.
She moves into the upstairs studio in the apartment that she originally rented to the phD student.
First the women have coffee…
Then Agnes shares about her adult children, her marriage, her au pair, parents, work, philosophies, opinions about Art versus craftsmanship… etc.
Boundaries are beginning to get shady……
I began to get a feeling that the entire book was a remnant of an entirely medieval different world — yet it felt modern at the same time —
Even opening up a packet of sugar — or walking into an antique shop — or a fruit basket gift — had a profound puzzling inquisitiveness to it that kept me thinking long after finishing this slim gem.
The spellbound visual - cryptic- descriptive storytelling conversations are crafted with perfection…crystallizing ordinary contemporary literary brilliance!!!
I couldn’t have loved it more!!!
Thank you, Adam.
August 29, 2023
A layered gothic novel on art, emotion, and how the two weave together to form creative expression. Quiet and subtle, but with an undercurrent of unease, White on White is not only a fascinating look into gothic art and the perception of bodies, but also a look into a life laid bare, and slowly uncoiling to reveal an unsettling artistic pattern. This novel, though short, is filled with the emotion that creeps into quiet spaces, the ways in which our own lives are canvases to decorate, to etch our stories into.
January 29, 2022
4,5
I loved this! It's style reminded me of Cusk's Outline trilogy; the detached voice, observing and telling about others, whilst not saying very much about herself. Beautifully written, interesting musings about art, and Savas describes so well that how we see a person is often just how they want us to perceive them and perhaps not how they really are. I'm really glad I read this.
I loved this! It's style reminded me of Cusk's Outline trilogy; the detached voice, observing and telling about others, whilst not saying very much about herself. Beautifully written, interesting musings about art, and Savas describes so well that how we see a person is often just how they want us to perceive them and perhaps not how they really are. I'm really glad I read this.
May 2, 2022
It could be just what I'm reading, but it is both fascinating and odd how often novels these days feature unnamed narrators, narrators as reflections, receptacles, sponges, the backboards against which others throw their stories, these narrators perhaps lacking, to some degree, a fixity of their own identities, definitely lacking a need to articulate their own selves. Social media proves that many people have the desire to lay bare their curated selves, and yet there is an increasing literary population of unnamed narrators who do not want to disgorge the simplest facts about themselves. My view is wholly unscientific, but these unnamed narrators seem always to be women who, despite their intelligence, success, fields of study, their own boundaries made clear by the fact that they don't share much about themselves, are strangely submissive and open to the needs of others. This set-up increases dramatic tension, but I'm not sure what to make of this trend which definitely deserves to be studied. White on White is on trend. An unnamed narrator whom I read as a woman - but that could be questioned - a doctoral student in art history, is in an unnamed European city to research Gothic nude sculptures of the 12th and 13th centuries, renting an apartment from a well-known professor of Gothic art and his painter wife, Agnes. Upstairs from the rented apartment is Agnes' art studio, and Agnes arrives for a brief stay, and then essentially moves back in. It is the relationship between the narrator and Agnes, the narrator's shifting views of Agnes, as well as the interrogation of art, as construction or destruction, whether it is better to interpret or create, relating specially to the naked medieval bodies sculpted and painted during that period, as representations of performance or truth or good or evil or sin, etc., that are among the foci of this spare and arresting novel. Both are interested in the same Gothic period, the narrator's interest is academic, Agnes in how she might explore it in her painting. Early on, Agnes praises the narrator for being a good listener, as she tells her stories, from childhood, from early marriage and motherhood, stories about her husband, children, other family members, and then beyond, and she keeps on telling her stories even as she notes the narrator is not as good a listener as she previously thought.
July 30, 2025
Bu yasal mı? :) Yani kendine özgü tekniğiyle ünlenmiş bir yazarı üslubundan içeriğe bire bir kopyalayıp alkış toplayabiliyor muyuz? Galiba bu mümkün çünkü bu aralar adı sık anılan Ayşegül Savaş’ın Beyaza Beyaz romanı Rachel Cusk’ın Üçleme serisinin biçim, üslup ve tema olarak iyi kotarılmış bir kopyası. Öyle ki sıkı edebiyat takipçisi bir dostunuza bu kısa romandan pasajlar okuyarak kendisini “ Cusk meşhur üçlemesini dörtlemiş” diye trolleyebilirsiniz.
Takribi beşinci sayfada yok artık diye minik bir çığlık atarak aynı fikirde olan başkaları var mı diye google beyefendiye sorma ihtiyacı duydum. Cevap maalesef evet. Üstelik birçok eleştirmen de kitabın birçok açıdan Diğer Ev’e benzerlik göstermesinde sorun görmemiş. İşin kötüsü yazar da bir röportajında “ilham” kaynağının Cusk olduğunu belirtmiş. :)
Aynı pasif anlatıcı, modern insanın kimlik, sosyal sınıf, iletişim, aile sorgulamalarına dair aynı çemberler, metin içerisinde sanatla kurulan aynı bağ. (Savaş, Cusk’tan farklı olarak bir ressamı değil de mesela bir mühendisi anlatının odağına yerleştirse ona da razı olacaktım sanırım.)
Muhakkak ki kitabı beğenenler olacak, etkileşimin edebiyatın doğasında olduğu yazılıp çizilecektir. Yazarlar pek tabii birbirlerinden ilham alır -yoksa nasıl Kafkaesk kelimesinde boğulurduk- ama bir kitabın biçimden üsluba, konudan karakter yaratımına her yönden bir başkasıyla benzerlik taşıması o eseri tartışmaya açmalıdır.
Yazar hakkında fikrimi derinleştirmek için başka kitaplarını da okuyacağım. Şüphesiz iyi bir metin bu, iyiliğinden yola çıkarak kendimize şu temel soruyu da sorabiliriz: Bir yazar, özgün biçimiyle ünlenmiş bir yazarın tarzını birebir alıp kullanıyorsa ve bunu da itiraf ediyorsa, bu dürüstlük mü yoksa estetikte ve satış rakamında kolaycılık mı oluyor?
İkincisini savunuyor ve ciddi yayınevlerinin böyle metinleri “özgünlük”gerekçesiyle basmayı reddetmesi gerektiğini düşünüyorum.
Takribi beşinci sayfada yok artık diye minik bir çığlık atarak aynı fikirde olan başkaları var mı diye google beyefendiye sorma ihtiyacı duydum. Cevap maalesef evet. Üstelik birçok eleştirmen de kitabın birçok açıdan Diğer Ev’e benzerlik göstermesinde sorun görmemiş. İşin kötüsü yazar da bir röportajında “ilham” kaynağının Cusk olduğunu belirtmiş. :)
Aynı pasif anlatıcı, modern insanın kimlik, sosyal sınıf, iletişim, aile sorgulamalarına dair aynı çemberler, metin içerisinde sanatla kurulan aynı bağ. (Savaş, Cusk’tan farklı olarak bir ressamı değil de mesela bir mühendisi anlatının odağına yerleştirse ona da razı olacaktım sanırım.)
Muhakkak ki kitabı beğenenler olacak, etkileşimin edebiyatın doğasında olduğu yazılıp çizilecektir. Yazarlar pek tabii birbirlerinden ilham alır -yoksa nasıl Kafkaesk kelimesinde boğulurduk- ama bir kitabın biçimden üsluba, konudan karakter yaratımına her yönden bir başkasıyla benzerlik taşıması o eseri tartışmaya açmalıdır.
Yazar hakkında fikrimi derinleştirmek için başka kitaplarını da okuyacağım. Şüphesiz iyi bir metin bu, iyiliğinden yola çıkarak kendimize şu temel soruyu da sorabiliriz: Bir yazar, özgün biçimiyle ünlenmiş bir yazarın tarzını birebir alıp kullanıyorsa ve bunu da itiraf ediyorsa, bu dürüstlük mü yoksa estetikte ve satış rakamında kolaycılık mı oluyor?
İkincisini savunuyor ve ciddi yayınevlerinin böyle metinleri “özgünlük”gerekçesiyle basmayı reddetmesi gerektiğini düşünüyorum.
July 2, 2022
A student studying Gothic nude sculptures meets a gorgeous, poised, inscrutable woman who proceeds to seemingly bond with the student. Digressing often into meaningful, yet obtuse stories of her life from childhood to present day circumstances, the student sits in the same way for a painter.
What is not depicted or shown or reacted to becomes a secondary piece of information to juxtapose that actual stories, and what they might be trying to convey to the student and the reader. In that way, it becomes about “reading” art and interpreting it, in the same way the two women seem to be. As well as present a facade in the aesthetic sense conjoined with the art.
It’s a brilliant, short piece with excellent craft on all fronts. Gorgeous prose work, enticing story and pacing, and a wicked, subjective ending. Loved this roundly.
What is not depicted or shown or reacted to becomes a secondary piece of information to juxtapose that actual stories, and what they might be trying to convey to the student and the reader. In that way, it becomes about “reading” art and interpreting it, in the same way the two women seem to be. As well as present a facade in the aesthetic sense conjoined with the art.
It’s a brilliant, short piece with excellent craft on all fronts. Gorgeous prose work, enticing story and pacing, and a wicked, subjective ending. Loved this roundly.
May 17, 2022
White on White by Aysegül Savas unfolds in the first-person point of view of a nameless student—probably a female although that is never specified—conducting research on Gothic nude sculptures of the 12th and 13th centuries. She rents a lower floor apartment from Agnes, an artist, who lives out of town with her husband.
When Agnes unexpectedly shows up to occupy the upper studio to prepare for an upcoming exhibit, the two begin meeting casually. As the days turn to months, it becomes apparent Agnes is facing difficulties in her marriage and has nowhere else to go. She is estranged from her husband and her grown children. Her behavior becomes increasingly erratic; her ability to paint stymied. She paints a white-on-white canvas and declares she doesn’t know how to proceed. Much of her narrative consists of lengthy anecdotal confessions spoken in the direct voice to reinforce immediacy; the narrator’s response is passive and reflected in the indirect voice to reinforce distance and lack of empathy
The novel strongly echoes Rachel Cusk’s Outline with its barely present narrator observing a stranger’s confessions. The narrator is increasingly aware of Agnes’ emotional crisis but continues to display a cool detachment toward her. Her observations are objective and devoid of empathy. She listens but does not offer support or compassion. Her favorable impression of Agnes’ appearance and demeanor diminish with time. She tolerates her monologues but begins to see Agnes as an unwelcome distraction from her work. Her dispassionate observations of Agnes parallel her dispassionate observations of the nudes she studies.
The narrator acts as the white canvas on which an artist projects his/her imprint. She is presumably the blank slate to Agnes’ story. But in an ironic twist at the end of the novel, the tables are turned. The narrator describes Agnes as having “. . . the face of an animal . . . a creature without human expression, though all the more alive with a meaning I could not decipher.” Agnes’ face mirrors the narrator’s inscrutability and absence of humanity. And in the ultimate twist, the narrator recognizes grotesque images of herself in Agnes’ painting. The recognition shocks her.
“Does it offend you?” Agnes asked. “Because from all our months of living together, I got the impression that you weren’t one to be easily moved.”
The roles have been reversed; the observer has become the observed. All the while the narrator had assumed she had the upper hand, objectively observing Agnes from the side lines—the blank screen to Agnes’ monologues. Instead, Agnes was observing her, projecting the narrator’s image on the blank screen, and holding a mirror up to her face. The reader is left wondering if Agnes’ self-revelations, her “nakedness,” was a veil—merely a ploy to unmask the narrator.
Unfolding slowly in layer upon layer; in language that is subtle, haunting, and perceptive; this intriguing novel explores the creative process and the role empathy plays in human relationships.
Very highly recommended.
My book reviews are also available at www.tamaraaghajaffar.com
When Agnes unexpectedly shows up to occupy the upper studio to prepare for an upcoming exhibit, the two begin meeting casually. As the days turn to months, it becomes apparent Agnes is facing difficulties in her marriage and has nowhere else to go. She is estranged from her husband and her grown children. Her behavior becomes increasingly erratic; her ability to paint stymied. She paints a white-on-white canvas and declares she doesn’t know how to proceed. Much of her narrative consists of lengthy anecdotal confessions spoken in the direct voice to reinforce immediacy; the narrator’s response is passive and reflected in the indirect voice to reinforce distance and lack of empathy
The novel strongly echoes Rachel Cusk’s Outline with its barely present narrator observing a stranger’s confessions. The narrator is increasingly aware of Agnes’ emotional crisis but continues to display a cool detachment toward her. Her observations are objective and devoid of empathy. She listens but does not offer support or compassion. Her favorable impression of Agnes’ appearance and demeanor diminish with time. She tolerates her monologues but begins to see Agnes as an unwelcome distraction from her work. Her dispassionate observations of Agnes parallel her dispassionate observations of the nudes she studies.
The narrator acts as the white canvas on which an artist projects his/her imprint. She is presumably the blank slate to Agnes’ story. But in an ironic twist at the end of the novel, the tables are turned. The narrator describes Agnes as having “. . . the face of an animal . . . a creature without human expression, though all the more alive with a meaning I could not decipher.” Agnes’ face mirrors the narrator’s inscrutability and absence of humanity. And in the ultimate twist, the narrator recognizes grotesque images of herself in Agnes’ painting. The recognition shocks her.
“Does it offend you?” Agnes asked. “Because from all our months of living together, I got the impression that you weren’t one to be easily moved.”
The roles have been reversed; the observer has become the observed. All the while the narrator had assumed she had the upper hand, objectively observing Agnes from the side lines—the blank screen to Agnes’ monologues. Instead, Agnes was observing her, projecting the narrator’s image on the blank screen, and holding a mirror up to her face. The reader is left wondering if Agnes’ self-revelations, her “nakedness,” was a veil—merely a ploy to unmask the narrator.
Unfolding slowly in layer upon layer; in language that is subtle, haunting, and perceptive; this intriguing novel explores the creative process and the role empathy plays in human relationships.
Very highly recommended.
My book reviews are also available at www.tamaraaghajaffar.com
December 28, 2024
simply exquisite
May 6, 2023
White on White is the kind of novel I felt I should be reading outside a café on a summer evening. It reminded me of Katie Kitamura’s writing and Jhumpa Lahiri’s Whereabouts. It’s a short, reflective book about art and the sense of self, following a student whose tentative friendship with her landlady curdles over the course of a summer researching Medieval nudes in an unnamed (European?) city. Beautiful, elegantly written, if a little ephemeral.
August 20, 2025
Sanat tarihi öğrencisi isimsiz anlatıcımız aldığı bursla birlikte ismini bilmediğimiz bir şehre, Pascal isimli ev sahibinin iki katlı dairesine taşınır. Akademisyen Pascal ve ressam eşi Agnes'in kiracılarından tek bir ricası vardır, Agnes şehre kalmaya geldiğinde dairenin üst katında yer alan stüdyosunu kullanacaktır.
İnce uzun bedeni, şık giyimi ve etkileyici aurasıyla Agnes, anlatıcımızın hızlı bir şekilde ilgisini çeker. Sık sık birlikte vakit geçirmeye başlayan bu ikilide Agnes sürekli anlatıcı, anlatıcımız ise dinleyen konumunda olur. Öyle ki bu isimsiz anlatıcının pasifliği tıpkı biz okurunki gibidir. Agnes anlattıkça anlatır hatta zaman zaman "Ne çok konuştum değil mi?" der. Agnes'i, ressam kimliğini, eşi Pascal'la tanıştıkları zamanı, çocuklarını dinleriz. Ayşegül Savaş, öyle bir anlatım şekli kullanmış ki sanki her şey ve herkes biraz hayali, beyaz ve hayaletimsi. Özellikle Agnes tüm etkileyiciliğiyle bir hayalet gibi dairede, zihnimizde dolaşıyor sürekli. Zaten Ayşegül Savaş da bir hayalet fikriyle yola çıktığını söylüyor.
Kitap boyunca ışık ve gölge tasvirleri muazzam. Gözümün önüne her daim uçuşan perdeler, hafif bir yaz esintisi ve yüksek tavanlı, parkeli eski bir daire geldi. Gizemli bir karakter olan Agnes'i dinlemek sabırsız ve gergin hissettiriyor okuru da. Onun kendini kusursuz ve pirüpak, bembeyaz biçimde var etme serüveni de kendi içinde gerilimlerle dolu.
Yazarın Book & Book YouTube kanalına konuk olduğu bölümü dinledikten sonra hissettiğim şeylerin Ayşegül Savaş'ın amaçladıklarıyla örtüştüğünü de görmüş oldum. Ezcümle ben keyif alarak okudum. Yarattığı atmosferi, tasvirleri ve elbette Agnes karakterini etkileyici buldum.
İnce uzun bedeni, şık giyimi ve etkileyici aurasıyla Agnes, anlatıcımızın hızlı bir şekilde ilgisini çeker. Sık sık birlikte vakit geçirmeye başlayan bu ikilide Agnes sürekli anlatıcı, anlatıcımız ise dinleyen konumunda olur. Öyle ki bu isimsiz anlatıcının pasifliği tıpkı biz okurunki gibidir. Agnes anlattıkça anlatır hatta zaman zaman "Ne çok konuştum değil mi?" der. Agnes'i, ressam kimliğini, eşi Pascal'la tanıştıkları zamanı, çocuklarını dinleriz. Ayşegül Savaş, öyle bir anlatım şekli kullanmış ki sanki her şey ve herkes biraz hayali, beyaz ve hayaletimsi. Özellikle Agnes tüm etkileyiciliğiyle bir hayalet gibi dairede, zihnimizde dolaşıyor sürekli. Zaten Ayşegül Savaş da bir hayalet fikriyle yola çıktığını söylüyor.
Kitap boyunca ışık ve gölge tasvirleri muazzam. Gözümün önüne her daim uçuşan perdeler, hafif bir yaz esintisi ve yüksek tavanlı, parkeli eski bir daire geldi. Gizemli bir karakter olan Agnes'i dinlemek sabırsız ve gergin hissettiriyor okuru da. Onun kendini kusursuz ve pirüpak, bembeyaz biçimde var etme serüveni de kendi içinde gerilimlerle dolu.
Yazarın Book & Book YouTube kanalına konuk olduğu bölümü dinledikten sonra hissettiğim şeylerin Ayşegül Savaş'ın amaçladıklarıyla örtüştüğünü de görmüş oldum. Ezcümle ben keyif alarak okudum. Yarattığı atmosferi, tasvirleri ve elbette Agnes karakterini etkileyici buldum.
December 30, 2024
barely came up for air with this one
April 16, 2025
At first glance this story is esoteric and erudite, with nothing happening beyond scholastic conversation. I'll admit, I did find that a bit appealing—I love texture in my reading life. Not to be fooled, the scholastic overtone is a good plot and structural maneuver. Something is unfolding at the periphery.
A researcher takes inventory of nudity in medieval texts. She struggles with her thesis direction and searches for a place to work. The apartment she rents is sublet by a professor, Pascal, and his wife, Agnes, a painter. The apartment has an allure: sparse aesthetic and elegance—like a gallery. Agnes, her landlady, shows up occasionally to work from her studio upstairs and she, too, seems like a work of art to the researcher. Agnes asks to live there while she completes her painting, and that's when it becomes an uh-oh moment. I'm not a fan of the option on Airbnb, when the owner of the property is in the space with you, so my antennae was receiving a lot of not-so-good signals here. Last time I stayed in an Airbnb of that kind, the owner announced that she was cooking me dinner (upon arrival so I had to change my dinner plans), she insisted on a cooking lesson, she pried into my life story, and she offered unsolicited opinions that my choice to not have children is the worst thing a woman could do because you can't keep a man or a marriage that way. So, imagine the red flags that popped up at this narrator's story.
The title alludes to the abstract painting by art theorist, Kazimir Malevich. On the surface, scholars go on tours of northern cathedrals to see renditions of The Wise and Foolish Virgins, and they ponder the liminal spaces in the gothic imagination. Yes, erudite it is. The undercurrent is what occurs in their personal lives: the disintegration of a marriage, the rift between parent and child, the awkwardness of new friendships and what a person sees in their own life when they look at another's—sort of like gaining perspective when viewing a painting.
I wondered how this story would have looked from Agnes' perspective, and the thought nagged throughout the narration. I tried to suspend disbelief that someone could go into this deep layer of storytelling to a tenant she'd just met. And then I thought back to my Airbnb host and how much she would have revealed if I hadn't left the dinner early, or if I hadn't politely declined breakfast and shopping. Yes, this weirdly captivating story seems believable, and the best parts are the layers of surprise that leaves you wondering what to expect next. However, I could not read this and not selfishly think about Savas' Walking on the Ceiling, which I preferred.
A researcher takes inventory of nudity in medieval texts. She struggles with her thesis direction and searches for a place to work. The apartment she rents is sublet by a professor, Pascal, and his wife, Agnes, a painter. The apartment has an allure: sparse aesthetic and elegance—like a gallery. Agnes, her landlady, shows up occasionally to work from her studio upstairs and she, too, seems like a work of art to the researcher. Agnes asks to live there while she completes her painting, and that's when it becomes an uh-oh moment. I'm not a fan of the option on Airbnb, when the owner of the property is in the space with you, so my antennae was receiving a lot of not-so-good signals here. Last time I stayed in an Airbnb of that kind, the owner announced that she was cooking me dinner (upon arrival so I had to change my dinner plans), she insisted on a cooking lesson, she pried into my life story, and she offered unsolicited opinions that my choice to not have children is the worst thing a woman could do because you can't keep a man or a marriage that way. So, imagine the red flags that popped up at this narrator's story.
The title alludes to the abstract painting by art theorist, Kazimir Malevich. On the surface, scholars go on tours of northern cathedrals to see renditions of The Wise and Foolish Virgins, and they ponder the liminal spaces in the gothic imagination. Yes, erudite it is. The undercurrent is what occurs in their personal lives: the disintegration of a marriage, the rift between parent and child, the awkwardness of new friendships and what a person sees in their own life when they look at another's—sort of like gaining perspective when viewing a painting.
I wondered how this story would have looked from Agnes' perspective, and the thought nagged throughout the narration. I tried to suspend disbelief that someone could go into this deep layer of storytelling to a tenant she'd just met. And then I thought back to my Airbnb host and how much she would have revealed if I hadn't left the dinner early, or if I hadn't politely declined breakfast and shopping. Yes, this weirdly captivating story seems believable, and the best parts are the layers of surprise that leaves you wondering what to expect next. However, I could not read this and not selfishly think about Savas' Walking on the Ceiling, which I preferred.
September 21, 2025
Sevdim…
Roman, gotik nü heykeller üzerine araştırma yapan bir doktora öğrencisinin ressam evsahibesi ile kısa sohbetlerle başlayıp derinleşen ilişkisini anlatıyor. Bu sohbetler esnasında, ressam kadının görünürdeki sakin ve mutlu hayatının arkasında yatan fırtınalar yavaş yavaş gün yüzüne çıkınca kırık bir hikayeyle karşı karşıya kalıyoruz…
Görünür olanın arkasına saklı gerçekleri, bunların hayattaki ve sanattaki yansımalarını, insanın içinde açtığı yaraları pek güzel anlatmış. Yer yer içim burkularak okudum. Hikayenin içinde sanatın oynadığı rol ayrıca ilgimi çekti.
Tercüme konusunda hep huysuzum:) Kötü diyemem ama bir kez de İngilizcesini okumak istiyorum.
Roman, gotik nü heykeller üzerine araştırma yapan bir doktora öğrencisinin ressam evsahibesi ile kısa sohbetlerle başlayıp derinleşen ilişkisini anlatıyor. Bu sohbetler esnasında, ressam kadının görünürdeki sakin ve mutlu hayatının arkasında yatan fırtınalar yavaş yavaş gün yüzüne çıkınca kırık bir hikayeyle karşı karşıya kalıyoruz…
Görünür olanın arkasına saklı gerçekleri, bunların hayattaki ve sanattaki yansımalarını, insanın içinde açtığı yaraları pek güzel anlatmış. Yer yer içim burkularak okudum. Hikayenin içinde sanatın oynadığı rol ayrıca ilgimi çekti.
Tercüme konusunda hep huysuzum:) Kötü diyemem ama bir kez de İngilizcesini okumak istiyorum.
September 26, 2022
“We form ourselves through our doubles
We make ghostly twins to carry the weight of our desires.”
This book will haunt me and I am ready to let it.
We make ghostly twins to carry the weight of our desires.”
This book will haunt me and I am ready to let it.
February 4, 2022
slim novel about the intersection of life & art. we're given a front row seat to the relationship between another unnamed narrator & an enigmatic painter named agnes. much like Second Place or Whereabouts very little happens. yet the palpable tension of this story is relentless as agnes unburdens herself to the narrator (who is) a neutral & quiet listener. intermixed are the narrator's musings & observations about art which begin to shift as she better understands agnes. the ending is an astonishing sleight of hand & reminded me of The Woman Upstairs.
May 24, 2023
"It wasn’t often… that we could present ourselves to others, like a self-portrait. More often, we made portraits of the people around us, guessing at their features from occasional glimpses."
An unnamed doctoral student arrives in a European city to study Gothic nude sculptures of the medieval period. The narrator rents an apartment from a distinguished art professor and his artist wife. Agnes, the wife, eventually returns to the apartment and moves into her upstairs studio, so the two become unintended roommates. The storyline follows the relationship (sort of a quasi-friendship – or is it?) between Agnes and the narrator. The narrator acts as a lens by which to view Agnes’s life – her relationship with her husband, marriage difficulties, tense relationship with her children, and her personality traits. We learn little about the narrator who seems to be more of a canvas, observer, or listener than an active participant. It asks many questions about the creation of art, not providing answers, but provoking contemplation in the reader. I found it an interesting read, especially the ideas about “curating” one’s life to make it appear it is eminently fascinating when the reality may be quite different. I tend to enjoy stories that feature art, and I enjoyed this one. It is not for anyone looking for plot, as not much happens. It mostly consists of Agnes telling stories of her life to the narrator and the narrator responding apathetically. I liked it well enough to read another book by this author.
3.5
An unnamed doctoral student arrives in a European city to study Gothic nude sculptures of the medieval period. The narrator rents an apartment from a distinguished art professor and his artist wife. Agnes, the wife, eventually returns to the apartment and moves into her upstairs studio, so the two become unintended roommates. The storyline follows the relationship (sort of a quasi-friendship – or is it?) between Agnes and the narrator. The narrator acts as a lens by which to view Agnes’s life – her relationship with her husband, marriage difficulties, tense relationship with her children, and her personality traits. We learn little about the narrator who seems to be more of a canvas, observer, or listener than an active participant. It asks many questions about the creation of art, not providing answers, but provoking contemplation in the reader. I found it an interesting read, especially the ideas about “curating” one’s life to make it appear it is eminently fascinating when the reality may be quite different. I tend to enjoy stories that feature art, and I enjoyed this one. It is not for anyone looking for plot, as not much happens. It mostly consists of Agnes telling stories of her life to the narrator and the narrator responding apathetically. I liked it well enough to read another book by this author.
3.5
February 11, 2025
Need to read more Savas after this!!
May 14, 2025
3.5
The story of a young woman’s time with an older woman. The older woman, Agnes, is a successful painter, and an elegantly dressed, self-possessed, sophisticated grown up. The narrator reveals almost nothing about herself. The story is mostly formed by the one-sided interactions in which Agnes tells the narrator stories of her life.
I started reading this and was immediately seduced by its spare, elegant style, its soft, dreamy atmosphere. It was very pleasing, and just what I was hoping it would be. Then as the story progressed I began to feel a kind of pressure, a tension which, quietly rising all the time, turned this from being a lovely read, to a properly stimulating, intense pleasure. Savaş does this gradual shift and maintains the cool, placid tone throughout.
There are obvious connections to draw between this novel and others by women writers who have adopted tones that could be described using the same adjectives (cool, detached, neutral, reserved etc.), and whose stories are structured around women who give very little of themselves, who are smart, sharp individuals, but also unsure, unknowing, vigilant, who seem still to be forming, and who see, perhaps more clearly than women from previous generations have or were able to, the fragility of the structures people build around themselves and live within.
White on White went down nice and easy, like a glass of water. I dug the way it touched on our perceptions, the incongruities and falsehoods that are part of our lives and relationships with others, the surfaces of things and the truth, what decides who a person becomes, what we end up taking on from what we’ve observed in others, and how we end up presenting ourselves, and what we’ll do to protect ourselves, what we’ll hide, and construct, to ensure a semblance of stability.
I’ll definitely be going back to read Savaş’s debut, Walking on the Ceiling, and following to see what she publishes next.
The story of a young woman’s time with an older woman. The older woman, Agnes, is a successful painter, and an elegantly dressed, self-possessed, sophisticated grown up. The narrator reveals almost nothing about herself. The story is mostly formed by the one-sided interactions in which Agnes tells the narrator stories of her life.
I started reading this and was immediately seduced by its spare, elegant style, its soft, dreamy atmosphere. It was very pleasing, and just what I was hoping it would be. Then as the story progressed I began to feel a kind of pressure, a tension which, quietly rising all the time, turned this from being a lovely read, to a properly stimulating, intense pleasure. Savaş does this gradual shift and maintains the cool, placid tone throughout.
There are obvious connections to draw between this novel and others by women writers who have adopted tones that could be described using the same adjectives (cool, detached, neutral, reserved etc.), and whose stories are structured around women who give very little of themselves, who are smart, sharp individuals, but also unsure, unknowing, vigilant, who seem still to be forming, and who see, perhaps more clearly than women from previous generations have or were able to, the fragility of the structures people build around themselves and live within.
White on White went down nice and easy, like a glass of water. I dug the way it touched on our perceptions, the incongruities and falsehoods that are part of our lives and relationships with others, the surfaces of things and the truth, what decides who a person becomes, what we end up taking on from what we’ve observed in others, and how we end up presenting ourselves, and what we’ll do to protect ourselves, what we’ll hide, and construct, to ensure a semblance of stability.
I’ll definitely be going back to read Savaş’s debut, Walking on the Ceiling, and following to see what she publishes next.
December 18, 2021
An unnamed narrator moves to a city for academic research on Gothic nudes, renting an apartment from a captivating character, Agnes, who is a painter and still uses the upstairs studio. The student becomes enmeshed in the confessional life of Agnes and amid academic research, a whole different sort of awareness and learning creeps upon us as Agnes disintegrates from her first impression as an enigmatic, stylish, and magnetic woman.
I breathlessly raced through this one even though it the prose presented a deceptively calm and beautiful exterior. The narrator remarks at one point that the power of art “lay as much in absence, in the deliberate choice of what was left out, as in what was revealed.” This slim novel was meticulously crafted, like a sparse piece of artwork itself.
I breathlessly raced through this one even though it the prose presented a deceptively calm and beautiful exterior. The narrator remarks at one point that the power of art “lay as much in absence, in the deliberate choice of what was left out, as in what was revealed.” This slim novel was meticulously crafted, like a sparse piece of artwork itself.
June 13, 2022
A beautifully quiet and intelligent little novel, full of observations that merit reflection. A real pleasure to read calmly. It is told from the perspective of a PhD-student that rents an apartment in what I suspect is a French city. The book is not about her though, even though she is the first person narrator. She acts as receptacle, a white sounding board: people talk to her, make interesting observations, mostly about art, but also about ageing, relationships. She just quietly listens, doesn't agree or disagree, and goes about her business.
You can read it in an evening, but I would suggest taking your time for it. I see many people compare it with Rachel Cusk and that is spot-on also for me.
You can read it in an evening, but I would suggest taking your time for it. I see many people compare it with Rachel Cusk and that is spot-on also for me.
January 19, 2022
Loved the ending. After reading this book, I’m feeling, weirdly, like I want to emulate the narrator in her relationship with Agnes: to listen, without offering much feedback, without intervening.
September 20, 2025
biri ortaçağın gotik nü heykelleri üzerine araştırma yapan bir sanat tarihi öğrencisi, diğeri ressam iki kadının kiracı-ev sahibi olarak tanışmasıyla başlayan ve kısa sohbetler, küçük paylaşımlarla ilerleyen diyaloglarının romanı beyaza beyaz. ve tıpkı kahramanların arasında kurduğu gibi okuruyla ilişki kuran bir roman: mesafeli. bir yanıyla hep tutuk-gerilimli, bir yanıyla da çekici ve bitsin istenmeyen bir sohbet havası sadece kahramanlar arasında değil romanla okur arasında da dolaşıyor.
iki kadın tanışır, sohbetleri ilerler, dostluğa dönüşür: hayır. bir romana başlanır, okudukça dünyasına girilir, kişilerine yaklaşılır: hayır. özellikle okur tarafında övgü alan sıcaklık-samimiyet yok, kahramanlarla özdeşleşme yok. aksine mesafeden, doğru kurulmuş bir meseafeden gücünü alıyor roman. sohbette söylenmeyen sözler, anlatıda anlamlı boşluklar var ve tam da bu sebeple sohbet derinleşiyor, anlatı görünürdeki hacmini aşarak bir roman oluyor.
aile üzerine, ilişkiler üzerine, sanat ve hayat üzerine konuşmak başka bir şey, romansallaştırmak başka bir şey. ayşegül savaş neredeyse tamamı konuşmadan ibaret bir roman yaratmayı başarıyor. sohbette konuşma dilini gözetmek gibi bir sınırlaması varken sohbeti çevreleyen dar anlatı alanında gücü zirveye çıkan bir roman dili var. gereksiz tek cümle yok. boş düşünce yok. en basit ifadesine bile hem netlik ve berraklık hem de özgünlük katma çabası hissediliyor baştan sona. sonda, 148 sayfada hem şık ve zarif hem de gerçek ve derin bir roman okuma hazzı var.
iki kadın tanışır, sohbetleri ilerler, dostluğa dönüşür: hayır. bir romana başlanır, okudukça dünyasına girilir, kişilerine yaklaşılır: hayır. özellikle okur tarafında övgü alan sıcaklık-samimiyet yok, kahramanlarla özdeşleşme yok. aksine mesafeden, doğru kurulmuş bir meseafeden gücünü alıyor roman. sohbette söylenmeyen sözler, anlatıda anlamlı boşluklar var ve tam da bu sebeple sohbet derinleşiyor, anlatı görünürdeki hacmini aşarak bir roman oluyor.
aile üzerine, ilişkiler üzerine, sanat ve hayat üzerine konuşmak başka bir şey, romansallaştırmak başka bir şey. ayşegül savaş neredeyse tamamı konuşmadan ibaret bir roman yaratmayı başarıyor. sohbette konuşma dilini gözetmek gibi bir sınırlaması varken sohbeti çevreleyen dar anlatı alanında gücü zirveye çıkan bir roman dili var. gereksiz tek cümle yok. boş düşünce yok. en basit ifadesine bile hem netlik ve berraklık hem de özgünlük katma çabası hissediliyor baştan sona. sonda, 148 sayfada hem şık ve zarif hem de gerçek ve derin bir roman okuma hazzı var.
April 5, 2022
While White on White was extremely well written, it was also, well, boring.
To me, at least, Philistine that I am.
Or is it that I overdosed on Art Student In Europe novels at a certain point in my younger life? Complete with the Lothario professor and adjacent wronged wife types. Hmm....
Whatever. Plenty of people have loved and will love this book by Aysegül Savas, so more power to her for having written it, even if I couldn't connect with it.
To me, at least, Philistine that I am.
Or is it that I overdosed on Art Student In Europe novels at a certain point in my younger life? Complete with the Lothario professor and adjacent wronged wife types. Hmm....
Whatever. Plenty of people have loved and will love this book by Aysegül Savas, so more power to her for having written it, even if I couldn't connect with it.
August 28, 2025
You can only read Nabokov for the first time once, if you get me; thereafter, you know that no narrator’s stated grounding is—um—hardpack. Yeah, that sounds all ‘literary’ and shit, fellas. I was uncertain on this til the very end, needing to see if Savaş was aware of how obtuse it read and substantiate intentionality.
Like I said above, you can only read Savaş for the first time once.
[Note: should you feel the need to propose I’m equivocating x between the two very different authors—no.]
Like I said above, you can only read Savaş for the first time once.
[Note: should you feel the need to propose I’m equivocating x between the two very different authors—no.]
September 1, 2025
woody allen filmlerini anımsattı nedense
June 27, 2022
a short, concise novel on an unnamed narrator and their interactions with an enigmatic, charismatic older woman, agnes, whose life story spirals out and is the central focus of the book. i do love me a milf...
anw, it's pretty clearly influenced by cusk's outline, which is not to say it's unoriginal or anything. neither does it rely too much on its narrative conceit. in fact, just as in outline, the purposeful detachment of the narrator from the narrative is central to the story. it serves a definite purpose outside of a framing device.
it seems like this book is often described as haunting or devastating. i feel like, while the emotional climax is powerful, i wouldn't go so far to call it haunting: something like ishiguro's a pale view of hills comes to mind when i think of haunting. the book is definitely a practice in restraint, with each word carefully planned and executed- but i think it's more delicate, gentle, chilling than straight-up haunting.
talking about restraint and detachment, the book's ambiguity is played out even more than cusk's outline. it's set in an unamed city, vaguely European but devoid of any identifying characteristics. the art that surrounds the narrator is never tied to a real-world artist. the narrator themself is not just unnamed, but genderless and silent, passive and dispassionate. it seems like they become even more withdrawn as the book progresses, parallel to agnes's overflowing openness and uncensored confessionals. initially charmed by agnes, the narrator slowly sours on her: the more agnes reveals of herself, the more the narrator withdraws.
it's this push and pull that culminates in a powerful ending: one where the observer turns to the oberserved. the narrator, used to being on the outside looking in, is suddenly exposed, left bare. it's an interesting ending, one which questions the relationship between the observed and the observer, the artist and the audience, the writer and the reader.
(this dynamic really, really reminds me of a portrait of a lady on fire, especially the painting scene. i don't think it's a reference or anything, but it's really what comes to mind.)
somerset library always has excellent books on display. i would very much recommend this book. lots to think about, and beautiful writing to top it off.
anw, it's pretty clearly influenced by cusk's outline, which is not to say it's unoriginal or anything. neither does it rely too much on its narrative conceit. in fact, just as in outline, the purposeful detachment of the narrator from the narrative is central to the story. it serves a definite purpose outside of a framing device.
it seems like this book is often described as haunting or devastating. i feel like, while the emotional climax is powerful, i wouldn't go so far to call it haunting: something like ishiguro's a pale view of hills comes to mind when i think of haunting. the book is definitely a practice in restraint, with each word carefully planned and executed- but i think it's more delicate, gentle, chilling than straight-up haunting.
talking about restraint and detachment, the book's ambiguity is played out even more than cusk's outline. it's set in an unamed city, vaguely European but devoid of any identifying characteristics. the art that surrounds the narrator is never tied to a real-world artist. the narrator themself is not just unnamed, but genderless and silent, passive and dispassionate. it seems like they become even more withdrawn as the book progresses, parallel to agnes's overflowing openness and uncensored confessionals. initially charmed by agnes, the narrator slowly sours on her: the more agnes reveals of herself, the more the narrator withdraws.
it's this push and pull that culminates in a powerful ending: one where the observer turns to the oberserved. the narrator, used to being on the outside looking in, is suddenly exposed, left bare. it's an interesting ending, one which questions the relationship between the observed and the observer, the artist and the audience, the writer and the reader.
(this dynamic really, really reminds me of a portrait of a lady on fire, especially the painting scene. i don't think it's a reference or anything, but it's really what comes to mind.)
somerset library always has excellent books on display. i would very much recommend this book. lots to think about, and beautiful writing to top it off.
Read
January 26, 2024A PhD student moves to a city to research Gothic nudes and while so rents an apartment from painter, Agnes, who lives in a nearby town with her husband.
Agnes begins to spend more time at the apartment, staying in the studio upstairs. Throughout the tenants one year stay, she gets to hear Agnes life story. Her life seemingly falls apart, her stories are frenetic, and her white on white canvas painting in work is unfinished.
“In the year that I lived there, I had the sense of having stepped inside another life.”
This is one of those books where nothing happens, not necessarily in a bad way. You’re reading for the atmosphere and character observation and/or development. I enjoy these types of narratives; however, this short book reads slightly dry with underwhelming emotional impact.
I think the kicker is that we watch Agnes spiral and become laid bare in a way she has never been. The whole time this was distracted for me by the fact that our narrator has zero reaction, complete neutrality, and an almost lack of humanity for this lady’s crisis. That’s probably intentional as she is also unnamed and by standing, but I don’t think it did the story any philosophical favors. As a short novella, this character dynamic may work with some readers. The punch of the book and sole personal expression of the tenant is met at the last two pages when Agnes painting is revealed.
Reading this was an average experience, but it does leave room for a lot of interpretation. Personally this was underwhelming, but I can appreciate and understand an audience that sees plenty value in this slow realistic loss of stability.
Thank you to Riverhead Books for the opportunity to read this arc.
February 2, 2022
The irony of picking up a new library book as a little breather between homework and studying, but it ends up requiring more brainpower than anything else I did today.
I feel like I have grown to love the trope of a woman's slow descent into madness more and more, and this book did a really good job of quietly creeping up on that "she's fully come undone" moment. The vibe was generally unsettling and reminded me a lot of what I have read from Mona Awad or Ottessa Moshfegh. I feel like this book was the perfect length for accomplishing its end. I read a different review for this book that called it "deceptively sinister," which I feel is the most perfect description and there's no point in elaborating.
PS. Lauren Groff blurbed this book too, which if you have ever read anything by Lauren Groff just makes 100% sense. If you read this, be prepared to feel like an absolute uncultured idiot who has never had an original thought <3
I feel like I have grown to love the trope of a woman's slow descent into madness more and more, and this book did a really good job of quietly creeping up on that "she's fully come undone" moment. The vibe was generally unsettling and reminded me a lot of what I have read from Mona Awad or Ottessa Moshfegh. I feel like this book was the perfect length for accomplishing its end. I read a different review for this book that called it "deceptively sinister," which I feel is the most perfect description and there's no point in elaborating.
PS. Lauren Groff blurbed this book too, which if you have ever read anything by Lauren Groff just makes 100% sense. If you read this, be prepared to feel like an absolute uncultured idiot who has never had an original thought <3
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