Read Online Bliss: A Novel by O.Z. Livaneli - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: O.Z. Livaneli
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to telling their jokes about the Kurds.
Light is carnal in Ionia … Though Istanbul was not Ionia, it shared the same culture. The dynamic potential of this society and the basic motive that determined its behavior was suppressed sexuality. Singers whose lyrics had sexual undertones and who stressed their own sexual identity achieved popularity. Was it a coincidence that most of the leading singers were gay? Even in his day, Naima, the great seventeenth-century Ottoman chronicler, had written about young men who seduced older men by performing erotic dances in women’s garb.
Recently, in a public survey, a gay singer and a man who had undergone a change of sex were chosen as singers of the year. The historical chronicles and manuscripts over which İrfan pored revealed widespread male homosexuality in the Ottoman Empire. Many a pasha and gentleman of note had visited the baths to be massaged and bathed by male attendants. Some texts even described the rules for such encounters.
İrfan’s researches aimed at decoding the sexual behavior of Turkish society. He published articles that, as always, were mercilessly attacked by his professional colleagues. In the university, easily compared to a scorpion’s nest, everyone was the enemy of another. Many university academicians who were İrfan’s opponents were perpetually hostile. They would never get tired of accusing him of using others’ ideas in his articles. They were claiming that the subjects he delved into had been discussed earlier in depth by others. As a sociologist who had not majored in history, how did he dare to repeat such stereotyped ideas and call it a scientific approach! In Turkey one had to make liberal use of the word “science” in order to defend his views. Personal ideas not explained “scientifically” were considered not of value, unless one had a certain title in front of his name such as professor, doctor, or associate professor. As a result, Turkey had an abundance of professors, since anybody who spent a number of years teaching at a university automatically received the title.
İrfan featured this glut of professors in one of his television programs. He referred to ignorant professors who could not even use their own language well. This stirred up a hornet’s nest, and his detractors responded vehemently, deriding him as a faker and a freeloader, who lived off his wife’s fortune.
Sometimes, sitting alone in his office at the university, İrfan wondered how he had managed to acquire so many enemies. It was hard to comprehend such hatred, but at the end of these sessions of self-pity he always reached the same conclusion—there was no need to take things personally. In this country, everyone detested each other. Soldiers despised civilians; air force officers disdained their counterparts in the army; political science graduates had no time for those who had received their diplomas in law; businessmen loathed politicians, and vice versa; pundits of the media gained kudos by bringing down idols. Where else were newspaper columns filled with profanity and invective? The intellectuals themselves were a breed apart. They fostered animosity, and their conversations were full of mockery, spite, and malice.
Until recently, İrfan had not minded all this. He felt that to live in such an atmosphere was quite natural. Success inevitably aroused jealousy, but now the local scene stifled him. He no longer enjoyed going to clubs, and he was disenchanted with the lifestyle of Istanbul’s so-called elite. He began to feel helpless, like a driver in a skid, seeing himself as a useless prattler, worthless and cowardly. The ways he used to defeat his opponents he once thought so successful, those barbs accusing them of being worthless, weak, arrogant, cheap, or unprincipled, weapons that had been his armor against them, he now cast at himself. They were right. He began to see himself as no better than the people he had so heartily despised.
İrfan
Light is carnal in Ionia … Though Istanbul was not Ionia, it shared the same culture. The dynamic potential of this society and the basic motive that determined its behavior was suppressed sexuality. Singers whose lyrics had sexual undertones and who stressed their own sexual identity achieved popularity. Was it a coincidence that most of the leading singers were gay? Even in his day, Naima, the great seventeenth-century Ottoman chronicler, had written about young men who seduced older men by performing erotic dances in women’s garb.
Recently, in a public survey, a gay singer and a man who had undergone a change of sex were chosen as singers of the year. The historical chronicles and manuscripts over which İrfan pored revealed widespread male homosexuality in the Ottoman Empire. Many a pasha and gentleman of note had visited the baths to be massaged and bathed by male attendants. Some texts even described the rules for such encounters.
İrfan’s researches aimed at decoding the sexual behavior of Turkish society. He published articles that, as always, were mercilessly attacked by his professional colleagues. In the university, easily compared to a scorpion’s nest, everyone was the enemy of another. Many university academicians who were İrfan’s opponents were perpetually hostile. They would never get tired of accusing him of using others’ ideas in his articles. They were claiming that the subjects he delved into had been discussed earlier in depth by others. As a sociologist who had not majored in history, how did he dare to repeat such stereotyped ideas and call it a scientific approach! In Turkey one had to make liberal use of the word “science” in order to defend his views. Personal ideas not explained “scientifically” were considered not of value, unless one had a certain title in front of his name such as professor, doctor, or associate professor. As a result, Turkey had an abundance of professors, since anybody who spent a number of years teaching at a university automatically received the title.
İrfan featured this glut of professors in one of his television programs. He referred to ignorant professors who could not even use their own language well. This stirred up a hornet’s nest, and his detractors responded vehemently, deriding him as a faker and a freeloader, who lived off his wife’s fortune.
Sometimes, sitting alone in his office at the university, İrfan wondered how he had managed to acquire so many enemies. It was hard to comprehend such hatred, but at the end of these sessions of self-pity he always reached the same conclusion—there was no need to take things personally. In this country, everyone detested each other. Soldiers despised civilians; air force officers disdained their counterparts in the army; political science graduates had no time for those who had received their diplomas in law; businessmen loathed politicians, and vice versa; pundits of the media gained kudos by bringing down idols. Where else were newspaper columns filled with profanity and invective? The intellectuals themselves were a breed apart. They fostered animosity, and their conversations were full of mockery, spite, and malice.
Until recently, İrfan had not minded all this. He felt that to live in such an atmosphere was quite natural. Success inevitably aroused jealousy, but now the local scene stifled him. He no longer enjoyed going to clubs, and he was disenchanted with the lifestyle of Istanbul’s so-called elite. He began to feel helpless, like a driver in a skid, seeing himself as a useless prattler, worthless and cowardly. The ways he used to defeat his opponents he once thought so successful, those barbs accusing them of being worthless, weak, arrogant, cheap, or unprincipled, weapons that had been his armor against them, he now cast at himself. They were right. He began to see himself as no better than the people he had so heartily despised.
İrfan
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