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  • Distant Relations

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    The narrator is walking with his fiancée Sibel one evening in Istanbul when she spots a purse in a shop window that she admires. The next day, the narrator returns to the shop to buy the purse as a gift. When he enters the dimly lit shop, he is startled to see Füsun, a woman he remembers from his childhood, now working there. They recognize each other. Füsun shows him the purse, and mentions the high price tag, suggesting he come back in the evening when the owner returns for a possible discount.

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    orhan pamuk

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    Newyorker.com Distant Relations

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    The narrator is walking with his fiancée Sibel one evening in Istanbul when she spots a purse in a shop window that she admires. The next day, the narrator returns to the shop to buy the purse as a gift. When he enters the dimly lit shop, he is startled to see Füsun, a woman he remembers from his childhood, now working there. They recognize each other. Füsun shows him the purse, and mentions the high price tag, suggesting he come back in the evening when the owner returns for a possible discount.

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    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
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    1K views2 pages

    Distant Relations

    Uploaded by

    qgjlvodg
    The narrator is walking with his fiancée Sibel one evening in Istanbul when she spots a purse in a shop window that she admires. The next day, the narrator returns to the shop to buy the purse as a gift. When he enters the dimly lit shop, he is startled to see Füsun, a woman he remembers from his childhood, now working there. They recognize each other. Füsun shows him the purse, and mentions the high price tag, suggesting he come back in the evening when the owner returns for a possible discount.

    Copyright:

    Attribution Non-Commercial (BY-NC)
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
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    of 2

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    Distant Relations
    Orhan Pamuk

    T he series of events and coincidences that would change my entire lif e began on April 27, 1975, when Sibel happened to spot a purse designed by the f amous Jenny Colon in a shopwindow as we were walking along Valikonagi Avenue, enjoying the cool spring evening. Our f ormal engagement was not f ar of f ; we were tipsy and in high spirits. Wed just been to Fuaye, a posh new restaurant in Nisantasi; over dinner with my parents, wed discussed at length the preparations f or the engagement party, which was scheduled f or the middle of June, so that Nurcihan, Sibels f riend since her days at the Lyce Notre Dame de Sion, in Paris, could come f rom France to attend. Sibel had long ago arranged f or her engagement dress to be made by Silky Ismet, who was then the most expensive and sought-af ter dressmaker in Istanbul, and that evening Sibel and my mother discussed how they might sew on the pearls that my mother had given her f or the dress. It was my f uture f ather-in-laws express wish that his only daughters engagement party be as extravagant as a wedding, and my mother was delighted to help f ulf ill that wish as best she could. As f or my f ather, he was charmed enough by the prospect of a daughter-in-law who had studied at the Sorbonne, as was said in those days among the Istanbul bourgeoisie of any girl who had gone to Paris f or any kind of education. It was as I was walking Sibel home that evening, my arm wrapped lovingly around her sturdy shoulders, and thinking with pride how happy and lucky I was, that she said, Oh, what a beautif ul bag! T hough my mind was clouded by the wine Id drunk at dinner, I took note of the purse and the name of the shop, and the next day I went back. In f act, I had never been one of those suave, chivalrous playboys who are always looking f or the slightest excuse to buy women presents or send them f lowers, though perhaps I longed to be. In those days, bored Westernized housewives in the af f luent neighborhoods of Sisli, Nisantasi, and Bebek did not open art galleries, as they did later, but ran boutiques, stocking them with trinkets and entire ensembles smuggled in their luggage f rom Paris and Milan or with copies of the latest dresses f eatured in imported magazines like Elle and Vogue, and selling these goods at ridiculously inf lated prices to other rich housewives who were as bored as they were. T he proprietress of the Sanzelize (its name a transliteration of the legendary Parisian avenue), Senay Hanim, was a very distant relation on my mothers side, but she wasnt there when I walked into the boutique at around twelve and the small bronze double-knobbed camel bell jingled two notes that can still make my heart pound. It was a warm day, but inside the shop it was cool and dark. At f irst I thought that there was no one there, my eyes still adjusting to the gloom af ter the noonday sunlight. T hen I f elt my heart rise into my throat, with the f orce of an immense wave about to crash against the shore. Id like to buy the handbag on the mannequin in the window, I managed to say, staggered by the sight of her. Do you mean the cream-colored Jenny Colon? When we came eye to eye, I immediately remembered her. T he handbag on the mannequin in the window, I repeated dreamily. Oh, right, she said and walked over to the window. In a f lash she had slipped of f one of her high-heeled yellow pumps, extending her bare f oot, whose nails shed caref ully painted red, onto the f loor of the display area, and stretching her arm toward the mannequin. My eyes travelled f rom her empty shoe over her long bare legs. It

    wasnt even May yet, and they were already tanned. T heir length made her lacy yellow skirt seem even shorter. Hooking the bag, she returned to the counter and, with slender, dexterous f ingers, removed the balls of crumpled tissue paper, showing me the inside of the zippered pocket, the two smaller pockets (both empty), and also a secret compartment, f rom which she produced a card inscribed Jenny Colon, her whole demeanor suggesting mystery and seriousness, as if she were showing me something very personal. Hello, Fsun, I said. Youre all grown up! Perhaps you dont recognize me. Of course, Kemal, sir, I recognized you right away, but when I saw that you did not recognize me I thought it would be better not to disturb you. T here was a silence. I looked again at one of the pockets she had pointed to inside the bag. Her beauty, or her skirt, which was in f act too short, or something else altogether, had unsettled me, and I couldnt act naturally. Well . . . what are you up to these days? Im studying f or my university entrance exams. And I come here every day, too. Here in the shop, Im meeting lots of new people. T hats wonderf ul. So, tell me, how much is this handbag? Furrowing her brow, she peered at the handwritten price tag on the bottom: One thousand f ive hundred liras. (At the time, this would have been six months pay f or a junior civil servant.) But I am sure Senay Hanim would want to of f er you a special price. Shes gone home f or lunch and must be napping now, so I cant phone her. But if you could come by this evening . . .

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