Ilse's Reviews > Dawn

Waiting for an uncertain dawn

Lately reading an essay of Salman Rushdie on censorship, expounding to his readers that for many of us liberty and freedom of speech come as naturally and unnoticed like the air we breathe, this novel, even if set in the early seventies and published in 1975 comes across as written yesterday. It is a trenchant remonstrance not to take personal, political and artistic freedom for granted, even if one is living in a part of the world that is less inclined than the current Turkish authorities to silence writers, journalists and artists, wielding the law against them as a weapon, prosecuting and jailing them.

Having been imprisoned and exiled for her left wing political views after the military coup in 1971(*), the Turkish novelist Sevgi Soysal (1936-1976 ) enrols in the apparently longstanding troublesome relationship the Turkish authorities at diverse periods in the history of the state maintain with some of its writers and intellecuals (Orhan Pamuk, Aslı Erdoğan, Ahmet AltanI Will Never See the World Again).


Wall painting showing the symbols of Adana on the ceilings of Optiumum Outlet Center in Yüreğir, Adana – Turkey

Get yourself out of this. Now! You must choose your battles carefully, very carefully indeed. As carefully as love. You must be open to all battles, see the beauty in the world and its importance. But you must choose the ones you wish to fight. What use will beautiful sentences do me in here? Beauty knows no shadows. It has no place in here.

Rushdie writes that At night, as we fall asleep, we assume we will be free tomorrow, because we were free today. The creative act requires not only freedom but also this assumption of freedom..This novel gives an illustration of the impact on individual lives when that assumption of waking up as a free person is upended.

The novel takes place during one night when a gathering at a dinner party in a house in the south-Eastern Turkish town of Adana is raided by the police and three of those present are taken to the police headquarters for interrogation: Oya, a journalist who was sent to Adana into exile after being imprisoned for a year in Ankara as a political prisoner (as Sevgi Soysal was herself); Mustafa, a teacher who also spent time in prison because of his left wing political activities and was recently released, and Ali, Mustafa’s uncle, a worker and the host of the dinner. During the long night of interrogation they reflect on their lives and beliefs while they are at the mercy of the police . In a stream of consciousness narrative their thoughts wander over past and present traumatising experiences of detainment, humiliation, torture and violence, over feelings of isolation, reflecting on their own revolutionary élan, wishes of reform and defeatism. Oscillating between their reflections and impressions, Sevgi Soysal reveals their different ideological and psychological struggles, vulnerabilities and doubts, intermingled with the points of view of other family members, fellow prisoners they knew in the past and the thoughts of officials and police officers who impose their own agenda, whether or not they abuse their power to guarantee the social and economic order according to martial law or to secure their own position in the hierarchy.

Soysal’s direct and austere prose skilfully draws the reader into the minds of the characters. Touching on power balances between men and women, the dynamics within the family and marriage, the contrasts between town and countryside, the various and contradicting loyalties of people depending on the multiple groups they belong too, torn between traditional and modern ideas, she is strikingly frank and open on sexuality and the body (one of her books was banned for obscenity), making a powerful feminist point through conveying Oya’s anxiety that her period might start and her interrogator might see the blood stains, realising that if we see our own bodies as shameful, if its untold secrets are mysteries even to us, if we censor our thoughts, lest they be judged evil, how are we ever to stand up for our beliefs?. Her depiction of the violence inflicted on the prisoners and how it is varied according to their origin, sex or class is harrowing. Nonetheless the brutality of these scenes, Sevgi Soysal’s realistic evocation of life in prison is interspersed with moments of humour, light, resilience and courage; her prose breathes an indomitable spirit.

The title of this novel can be read literally as well as metaphorically: once the night is gone and dawn arrives, Sevgi Soysal leaves it open what will become of her three protagonists- in some way their uncertain future conjures up questions on what might become of Turkey in the future, once the darkness of the depicted age will lighten up.

The introduction of the translator sheds a light on Sevgi Soysal’s personal activism and experience in prisons, making the fictional rendering of them in the novel even more poignant. Reminiscent of Oriana Fallaci’s A Man (on the detention and subjection to torture of Alexandros Panagoulis, the Greek politican and poet who fought against the Regime of the Colonels (1967-1974)), this book is a powerful testimony that legality isn’t synonymous to legitimacy with regard to human rights.

Oh, the mistakes you can make, when longing for a friendly face grows too strong.

Thanks to Archipelago and NetGalley for giving me the chance to read an ARC of this novel.

(*) In March 1970, senior army officers, concerned by the uncontrolled spread of political violence and a revolt in Kurdish regions of eastern Turkey and fearing that political divisions would spread to the army itself, delivered a warning to the government and a year later forced prime minister Demirel’s resignation. During the next two years, Turkey was ruled by supraparty coalitions of conservative politicians and technocrats who governed with the support of the army and who were primarily concerned with restoring law and order. Martial law was established in several provinces and was not completely lifted until September 1973; there were armed clashes with guerrillas and many arrests and trials; extremist political parties, including the WPT and the Islamic-based National Order Party (NOP), were shut down; and the constitution was amended to limit personal freedoms. Unlike in 1960–61, however, there was no sweeping political reorganization; the constitution, parliament, and major political parties remained. In 1973 the army withdrew to the barracks when its candidate for the presidency was defeated, leaving government once more to the politicians (from www.britannica.com).