But there is a rare lightness and freedom in characterizing these political themes. “Labyrinth,” the story of a musician who plunges into the Bosphorus and loses his memory, offers little hint of the turbulence of Erdogan’s time, but the amnesiac sees a torn presidential poster and mistakes the president for the Sultan.
We know the difference between art and journalism. Journalism speaks directly. Speaking this different art language makes us feel no longer in the social or political arena. Political matters and historical facts are just the color of my novels. That’s the real power. When I write novels, I feel like the past and the future become one. Because the past is a story and the future is a dream.
Has there been self-censorship of artists and writers in Turkey in recent years?
First, over 500 new Turkish novels are published each year. When I was in college, he had about 15-20 new novels published in Turkish. That’s a big difference.
If you look at the younger generation, you can see that they are brave. Despite all this oppression, the danger of going to prison or being out of a job, young people write fearlessly. They write about Kurdish issues, women’s issues, LGBT issues, and political crimes in Turkey.
Hundreds of writers are like this. I write for myself, openly, and at some points taking a little risk. This is something we should be proud of.
As chairman of PEN International, you take a particularly close look at the state of free expression. Has things gotten any better in Turkey since the 2016-2017 crackdown when thousands of academics and journalists were arrested or purged?
No, no, it’s not good. In Turkey, there was no distinction between bad and good. It was always bad or worse.
