Pamuk wins the Nobel

I am so happy today. I woke up and read Ohran Pamuk won the Nobel. For one, it is amusing because unlike other Pamuk's admirers, I am rather a late entrant to this group. But more importantly, I can at least console myself that I was lucky to fall in love with his writing before the recognition arrived.

It's been a while since I posted last. With activities galore keeping me occupied, I had all these millions of ideas racing in my mind without actually penning them down. But no more waiting. I am simply so happy. Happy to the extent of almost falling over my cerebral cliff when another voice comes and interrupts and asks, "Why are you so happy about? Do recognitions really matter? Pamuk himself said it doesn't earlier this year in an interview." Well, truth be told. It does. We are all humans and being humans we are in our inner self like children always hungry for acknowledgement. Now, you may ask if he gets the Nobel why am I happy. I am happy because in some ways a Nobel to him validates me. It validates my sense and spirit of appreciation, it recognizes the fact that what I have so fondly loved is also loved by a recognized institute. I feel being a part of a larger whole.

So much for that but what has made him so special. My first encounter with his work has been Snow and admittedly, I have not read much of his other stuff apart from his interviews, reviews in New Yorker, and so forth.

"Snow" touched me deeply. His protrait of Ka - a rather solemn, solitary poet living in a rather politically charged small towm. How he falls in love with Ipek, a divorcee, and how his typical male idiosyncracies destroys the trust that Ipek gradually began to develop. The human dynamics especially the underpinings in a man's behavior and his inherant incapacity to understand the progression of a woman's sentiments is simply amazing. It touched me to my bones. The apparent confusion that seems to baffle so many men (as I have known from my own life to those of my friends) is inspite of "doing everything" - somehow you cannot win a woman's heart. Not completely. And this where Pamuk so intricately weaves these emotions from different perspectives - almost running the subtle changes in human heart in slow motion. Beat by beat.

Quite ironically, it has baffled me and remained a mystery why so many women fall for men who are prone to trouble, or running their risk of their lives - activists who may be jailed, or criminals who may die. More personally, I have felt on numerous ocassions why linear, non-trouble makers, boy next door hunts perpetually for true love. In Snow, through Ipek's love for Blue, inspite of Blue's radical and potential life threatening circumstances. Ipek says how his compassion for people was genuine and how dedicated his love was that he braved all the risks to visit her. I guess these things matter for the heart. Again subtle remarks like - ..(paraphrasing) "men are given to verbal abuse do so to show their lover how much they love them." Well, only to find out later that woman's love has completely dried out.

Snow will remain as one of my most touching novels. In those long nights laying in my studio looking over the SF skyline - between the large open space, my little voice, and the world that Pamuk was able to weave gave me a "second life". Absolutely moving and solemn experience!