A modern Turkish classic, first published in 1943, this is a bittersweet tale of love, identity, intimacy, and friendship. It wasn’t translated into English until 2016!
Raif, an “innocent” Turkish man, ends up living in a pension in Berlin, learning German, trying to find some purpose in his lonely life. It’s the 1920s, and Germany is going through a difficult and politically fraught time. Raif feels disconnected from other people and without purpose. His father wants him to learn a trade (soap making), but Raif ends up mostly walking around the city and going to galleries.
In fact, we first meet Raif as an older man, and it is his youthful journal that gives us the bulk of his life story. Love the framing device and it gives the narrative a slightly mysterious feel.
The Madonna in the title is artist Maria Puder – her self-portrait arrests Raif and their slowly developing intimacy is beautiful in its jagged realism. Maria is an enigmatic and modern woman. She’s challenging, charming, and constantly changing her mind. She’s both cynical and vulnerable. Interestingly, she may be based on a real person from the author’s life.
Lots of evocative scenes and emotions, this is a novel that doesn’t shy away from all that is tawdry and honest in intimacy. It’s sad yet strangely hopeful too.
One word: intimate.
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