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Why do you write? This is the question I’ve been asked most often in my writing career. Most of the time they mean this: What is the point, why do you give your time to this strange and impossible activity? Why do you write … You have to give an excuse, an…

English Excerpt from Istanbul: Memories of a City (Istanbul: Hatıralar Ve Şehir). Here we come to the heart of the matter: I’ve never left Istanbul – never left the houses, streets and neighbourhoods of my childhood. Although I’ve lived in other districts from time to time, fifty years on I find myself…

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English My Father’s Suitcase Two years before his death, my father gave me a small suitcase filled with his writings, manuscripts and notebooks. Assuming his usual joking, mocking air, he told me he wanted me to read them after he was gone, by which he meant after he died.…

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Read the excerpts from The Passport (Der Mensch ist ein großer Fasan auf der Welt) English Excerpts from The Passport THE POT HOLE Around the war memorial are roses. They form a thicket. So overgrown that they suffocate the grass. Their blooms are white, rolled tight like paper. They rustle. Dawn is breaking.…

English Your Majesties Your Royal Highnesses Ladies and Gentlemen Dear Friends The trajectory that leads from a child tending cows in the valley to the Stockholm City Hall is a strange one. Here, too, (as is often the case), I am standing beside myself. It was only against my mother’s will that…

English December 7, 2009 Every word knows something of a vicious circle DO YOU HAVE A HANDKERCHIEF was the question my mother asked me every morning, standing by the gate to our house, before I went out onto the street. I didn’t have a handkerchief. And because I didn’t,…

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