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Dawn
A searing autobiographical novel about a single night in prison suggests how broken spirits can be mended, and dreams rebuilt through imagination and human kindness
“Like Pamuk’s Snow, Dawn is the Turkish tragedy writ small. In contrast to Snow, it places gender at its heart.” --Maureen Freely
In Dawn, translated into English for the first time, legendary Turkish feminist Sevgi Soysal brings together dark humor, witty observations, and trenchant criticism of social injustice, militarism, and gender inequality.
As night falls in Adana, köftes and cups of cloudy raki are passed to the dinner guests in the home of Ali – a former laborer who gives tight bear hugs, speaks with a southeastern lilt, and radiates the spirit of a child. Among the guests are a journalist named Oya, who has recently been released from prison and is living in exile on charges of leftist sympathizing, and her new acquaintance, Mustafa. A swift kick knocks down the front door and bumbling policemen converge on the guests, carting them off to holding cells, where they’ll be interrogated and tortured throughout the night.
Fear spools into the anxious, claustrophobic thoughts of a return to prison, just after tasting freedom. Bristling snatches of Oya’s time in prison rush back – the wild curses and wilder laughter of inmates, their vicious quarrels and rapturous belly-dancing, or the quiet boon of a cup of tea. Her former inmates created fury and joy out of nothing. Their brimming resilience wills Oya to fight through the night and is fused with every word of this blazing, lucid novel.
“Like Pamuk’s Snow, Dawn is the Turkish tragedy writ small. In contrast to Snow, it places gender at its heart.” --Maureen Freely
In Dawn, translated into English for the first time, legendary Turkish feminist Sevgi Soysal brings together dark humor, witty observations, and trenchant criticism of social injustice, militarism, and gender inequality.
As night falls in Adana, köftes and cups of cloudy raki are passed to the dinner guests in the home of Ali – a former laborer who gives tight bear hugs, speaks with a southeastern lilt, and radiates the spirit of a child. Among the guests are a journalist named Oya, who has recently been released from prison and is living in exile on charges of leftist sympathizing, and her new acquaintance, Mustafa. A swift kick knocks down the front door and bumbling policemen converge on the guests, carting them off to holding cells, where they’ll be interrogated and tortured throughout the night.
Fear spools into the anxious, claustrophobic thoughts of a return to prison, just after tasting freedom. Bristling snatches of Oya’s time in prison rush back – the wild curses and wilder laughter of inmates, their vicious quarrels and rapturous belly-dancing, or the quiet boon of a cup of tea. Her former inmates created fury and joy out of nothing. Their brimming resilience wills Oya to fight through the night and is fused with every word of this blazing, lucid novel.
318 pages, Kindle Edition
Published November 15, 2022
13 people are currently reading
94 people want to read
About the author
Sevgi Soysal
21 books229 followersSevgi Soysal was born in Istanbul in 1936. She grew up in Ankara with her father, an architect-bureaucrat originally from Salonica, and her German mother. She studied archaeology in Ankara, continuing her education in that field as well as theater at Göttingen University.
Soysal’s first volume of short stories, Tutkulu Perçem (Passionate Bangs), was published in 1962, the same year that Soysal began working for the Turkish national television and radio (TRT). She went on to write Tante Rosa, a novel of interconnected stories based upon the life and personality of her aunt, Rosel. Her novel addressing male-female relationships and the issue of marriage, Yürümek (Walking), was banned upon charges of obscenity. In 1974 Soysal won the prestigious Orhan Kemal Award for Best Novel for Yenişehir’de Bir Öğle Vakti (Noontime in Yenişehir), which she had written while in prison. Her novel Şafak (Dawn), in which she criticized the coup of 12 March by way of the story of a woman exiled in Adana, was published in 1975. Her memoirs of prison life, originally published in the newspaper Politika, were published in a single volume as Yıldırım Bölge Kadınlar Koğuşu (Yıldırım Area Women’s Ward) in 1976. In another book of short stories, Barış Adlı Çocuk (A Child Named Peace), Soysal describes with great literary aplomb the social and political changes during that time, often based upon keen observations of her personal experiences.
Soysal was diagnosed with cancer, which resulted in her death on 22 November 1976. She left behind an incomplete novel, Hoşgeldin Ölüm (Welcome, Death!).
A masterful critic of social injustice, gender inequality, and militarism, Sevgi Soysal’s writings are essential to understanding Turkey since the 1960’s. The fact that Soysal’s complete works continue to attract a devoted readership is proof of the power of her writing, as well as her lasting influence upon both the Turkish public and the intelligentsia.
Soysal’s early stories and essays are of an existentialist bent, as they emphasize the anxiety of the individual vis-à-vis society. In her later works, Soysal’s focus shifts to that of the relationship between the individual and society and to various social issues. Soysal stands out as an author who refused to meet the constricting social demands of her time, most especially those concerning gender. Soysal never flinched when it came to challenging the conformism that she observed in society, including that within the oppositional leftist movement, though she herself took a keen interest in contemporary leftist ideology. In her works, whether memoirs of prison life in Ankara, or the novel-in-stories, Tante Rosa, or any of her other works, Soysal addresses the loopholes, the hitches and glitches in the dominating system with sharp intelligence and scathing irony. Female protagonists who are not afraid to reckon with themselves, or to question their own actions and how those actions are dictated by society, always hold a prominent place in Soysal’s work. These are characters who do not hesitate to embark upon adventures, to live their lives rather than remaining pent up or static, even though they often know that their lust for life will inevitably lead them into certain pitfalls. Whether within the context of prison or the leftist movement, as a newspaper columnist or as a “housewife,” Sevgi Soysal never failed to criticize, with her ironic wit, both herself and the social pressures that constrict the individual, and to reveal the inner workings of daily oppression.
Turkish journalist Yıldırım Türker says that for him, Sevgi Soysal is “a tulle of shrewd attitude, rebellious joy, and intelligence glistening with the sheen of compassion, through which I viewed the world in my early youth.”
Soysal’s first volume of short stories, Tutkulu Perçem (Passionate Bangs), was published in 1962, the same year that Soysal began working for the Turkish national television and radio (TRT). She went on to write Tante Rosa, a novel of interconnected stories based upon the life and personality of her aunt, Rosel. Her novel addressing male-female relationships and the issue of marriage, Yürümek (Walking), was banned upon charges of obscenity. In 1974 Soysal won the prestigious Orhan Kemal Award for Best Novel for Yenişehir’de Bir Öğle Vakti (Noontime in Yenişehir), which she had written while in prison. Her novel Şafak (Dawn), in which she criticized the coup of 12 March by way of the story of a woman exiled in Adana, was published in 1975. Her memoirs of prison life, originally published in the newspaper Politika, were published in a single volume as Yıldırım Bölge Kadınlar Koğuşu (Yıldırım Area Women’s Ward) in 1976. In another book of short stories, Barış Adlı Çocuk (A Child Named Peace), Soysal describes with great literary aplomb the social and political changes during that time, often based upon keen observations of her personal experiences.
Soysal was diagnosed with cancer, which resulted in her death on 22 November 1976. She left behind an incomplete novel, Hoşgeldin Ölüm (Welcome, Death!).
A masterful critic of social injustice, gender inequality, and militarism, Sevgi Soysal’s writings are essential to understanding Turkey since the 1960’s. The fact that Soysal’s complete works continue to attract a devoted readership is proof of the power of her writing, as well as her lasting influence upon both the Turkish public and the intelligentsia.
Soysal’s early stories and essays are of an existentialist bent, as they emphasize the anxiety of the individual vis-à-vis society. In her later works, Soysal’s focus shifts to that of the relationship between the individual and society and to various social issues. Soysal stands out as an author who refused to meet the constricting social demands of her time, most especially those concerning gender. Soysal never flinched when it came to challenging the conformism that she observed in society, including that within the oppositional leftist movement, though she herself took a keen interest in contemporary leftist ideology. In her works, whether memoirs of prison life in Ankara, or the novel-in-stories, Tante Rosa, or any of her other works, Soysal addresses the loopholes, the hitches and glitches in the dominating system with sharp intelligence and scathing irony. Female protagonists who are not afraid to reckon with themselves, or to question their own actions and how those actions are dictated by society, always hold a prominent place in Soysal’s work. These are characters who do not hesitate to embark upon adventures, to live their lives rather than remaining pent up or static, even though they often know that their lust for life will inevitably lead them into certain pitfalls. Whether within the context of prison or the leftist movement, as a newspaper columnist or as a “housewife,” Sevgi Soysal never failed to criticize, with her ironic wit, both herself and the social pressures that constrict the individual, and to reveal the inner workings of daily oppression.
Turkish journalist Yıldırım Türker says that for him, Sevgi Soysal is “a tulle of shrewd attitude, rebellious joy, and intelligence glistening with the sheen of compassion, through which I viewed the world in my early youth.”
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
May 11, 2025
About an overnight prison stay, just until dawn, but you learn so much about the characters lives and hopes, as well as Turkey and the political situation at the time.
April 2, 2023
A novel that offers a well-timed polemic can genuinely change a society. Chernyshevsky's What Is to Be Done created the first great 19th century attempt within the Russian Intelligensia to rid the country of serfdom. Later Marx would pay this novel homage by naming one of his most famous pamphlets, What Is to Be Done, after it. Some compare this novel's importance for the serfs to the life of slaves in Uncle Tom's Cabin.
Or consider Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath, a title that echos the prophetic book of the New Testament, John of Revelations as well as the Battle Hymn of the Republic, the great American Civil War song of the north. Like Dickens, Steinbeck is able to offer a path to reform through his work rather than offer revolt. I recall John Gardner said that the book was inherently flawed because we never heard the viewpoint of the growers, but I suspect the flaw was Gardner's: He failed to consider a more polemic style a worthy candidate for the true novelistic tradition.
And yet, political tracts that are naive or no more than an invention meant only to survive its contemporary era can be a bore to read. Yet the still contribute to more than a visit to the dustbins of history. Indeed, if they are well enough written, they will resonate in other decades down the line.
This is true of Dawn by Sevgi Soysal. A novel built on the experiences of herself and friends in prison. The plot is simple. After a coup, Oya has first been in jail and then sent in internal exile to city of Adana, alone. Lonely, she is befriend by a lawyer Hüseyin, who knows of her fame/noteriety and decides to invite her to a family dinner party. The party is raided and the various participants are taken to jail, where most of them are interrogated and/or beaten. In the morning they are all released without charges.
That there is little or no plot is of little importance when held next to Sosyal's great understanding of human nature and its relationship to power structures. I've read in several places that Sosyal is an early Turkish feminist, and she surely is, but perhaps more importantly she knows how to individuate the psychology of each character in her novels through their relationship to power, whether they are acting as a force of reaction and oppression, or sitting on a benches inside the cell. There are plenty of gruesome details spoken and seen, but she really also really knows how to get into the head of a policeman like Abdullah; we understand his character and motivations.
Part of the reason this novel reads so well is the translation of Maureen Freely. She is to be congratulated for the work; I very much enjoyed her turning dependent clauses into sentences.
Though brutality can seem second nature in this world we live in, a novel like this earns its praise through thoughtful, crisp writing and depth of character. If you are interested in modern history, the literature of incarceration, or Turkey, this an excellent place to start.
Or consider Steinbeck's Grapes of Wrath, a title that echos the prophetic book of the New Testament, John of Revelations as well as the Battle Hymn of the Republic, the great American Civil War song of the north. Like Dickens, Steinbeck is able to offer a path to reform through his work rather than offer revolt. I recall John Gardner said that the book was inherently flawed because we never heard the viewpoint of the growers, but I suspect the flaw was Gardner's: He failed to consider a more polemic style a worthy candidate for the true novelistic tradition.
And yet, political tracts that are naive or no more than an invention meant only to survive its contemporary era can be a bore to read. Yet the still contribute to more than a visit to the dustbins of history. Indeed, if they are well enough written, they will resonate in other decades down the line.
This is true of Dawn by Sevgi Soysal. A novel built on the experiences of herself and friends in prison. The plot is simple. After a coup, Oya has first been in jail and then sent in internal exile to city of Adana, alone. Lonely, she is befriend by a lawyer Hüseyin, who knows of her fame/noteriety and decides to invite her to a family dinner party. The party is raided and the various participants are taken to jail, where most of them are interrogated and/or beaten. In the morning they are all released without charges.
That there is little or no plot is of little importance when held next to Sosyal's great understanding of human nature and its relationship to power structures. I've read in several places that Sosyal is an early Turkish feminist, and she surely is, but perhaps more importantly she knows how to individuate the psychology of each character in her novels through their relationship to power, whether they are acting as a force of reaction and oppression, or sitting on a benches inside the cell. There are plenty of gruesome details spoken and seen, but she really also really knows how to get into the head of a policeman like Abdullah; we understand his character and motivations.
Part of the reason this novel reads so well is the translation of Maureen Freely. She is to be congratulated for the work; I very much enjoyed her turning dependent clauses into sentences.
Though brutality can seem second nature in this world we live in, a novel like this earns its praise through thoughtful, crisp writing and depth of character. If you are interested in modern history, the literature of incarceration, or Turkey, this an excellent place to start.
August 2, 2024
Within Soysal's Dawn is a deep well of humanity, complete with its failures, anxieties, hopes, and cruelties. The prose flows between the internal monologues of her characters which rather than confuse the reader, grants us a deep empathy and connection. It gives us a reminder that we are just as capable of being monsters as those next to us. That despite our loftiest ideals we will fall flat, again and again, but there is still within our failings something meaningful. Dawn never comes to Adana. In the end, each of us remain forgotten by fate in its cruelty. But in all our failings there is still beauty. Still there are moments of joy for we fools. Again, we must try, over and over, to bring about a new world which still after all this time struggles to be born. The night is long, but Dawn will come.
January 22, 2023
This is one of my the best books I’ve read recently. I knew very little about Turkish history before reading it, and now I’m very interested and will seek out more books on the subject. The entire story takes place over about a day, and deeply explores each characters’ inner thoughts and backstories. It moved along at a solid pace and I didn’t find any parts of it boring. I’m very glad this book was translated into English so a global audience can enjoy it!
March 13, 2023
Very cool book. Enjoyed this.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews