Birds Without Wings (Vintage International)

From page one this book grabbed me and, to be honest, I don't know how else to put it other than it is just a beautiful, lovely read, though the subject matter is anything but. This book was simply a pleasure to read, and on several nights I was absorbed till the wee hours. Beautiful story-telling, beautiful language. I completely disagree with reviews that complain that De Bernieres overused "persian/arabic/urdu terms" - many of the words will already be familiar even to a casual reader of Middle East-themed literature and all such terms are very understandable, especially in the context of the story. I disagree even more with statements that the book offers no story to tell as I would consider this book a great example of history-based fiction. No, this is not necessarily the book if you want to know more details about the history and demise of the Ottoman Empire -- but that's because it's not a history textbook! This is a story (yes, a fictional one) of regular people living through incredible times, of how significant world events impact arguably insignificant small lives. And this book definitely does one thing most history textbooks fail to do - get one interested in the subject matter enough to go out and read more about it. And no, this book is not about how awesome the Ottoman Empire was or how the Ottoman Muslims never did anything wrong. Numerous parts of the book discuss the disagreements about the "holy war" among various Muslim populations; there are several examples of depraved actions perpetrated by Muslims against each other and against other religious groups; a few Muslim groups are portrayed as downright evil hypocrites. There's is no single protagonist, either Muslim or Christian -- instead it's the whole community that has changed forever, individually and collectively, and not for the better, that has lost everything in every meaning of that word. And it is this cataclysmic change and this crushing loss that make one's heart ache when reading this book. Many, many parts struck me as so profound, I found myself highlighting many more passages in this book than probably in any other book I've read. Most of those passages are simply about living your own life and letting others do the same, about tolerance toward each other, about the evils of nationalism-driven conflicts, no matter who the perpetrators are, and reminders that the sweetness of vengeance, if any, is extremely short-lived as one may find himself forever haunted by the memories of brutalities personally committed. If this book is indeed a love letter to anything (as some reviews have suggested), it is to the idea of tolerance, idealistic and unrealistic as it may seem.

Louis de Bernieres intertwines his beautiful narrative of a small Anatolian town and the lives of its inhabitants with that of the biography of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the founder and first president of the Turkish Republic. "Birds Without Wings" is superb historical fiction which chronicles the rise of Turkish nationalism, following the horrific massacres of Armenians and Muslims in the 19th and early 20th century. Similar ethnic and religious mass murders occurred in the Balkans, and other such slaughters were perpetrated by the Russians in their vast territory. Refugees fled in droves into the Ottoman Empire, to life in exile, trying to escape the killing fields. The destruction of the Ottoman empire in WWI put an end to a tradition of religious and ethnic tolerance in Asia Minor, areas of the Balkans, and many Arab countries. De Bernieres also takes the reader to the battlefields of various wars, revolutions and counterrevolutions, and portrays the Battle of Gallipoli from the Turkish point of view - although I don't think he captures the true extent of the horrors of Gallipoli. De Bernieres' dedicates his novel to: "....the unhappy memory of the millions of civilians on all sides during the times portrayed, who had become victims of the numerous death marches, movements of refugees, campaigns of persecution and extermination, and exchanges of population." Karatavuk, now an old man and the town scribe, remembers his childhood when he spent almost all his time running free with his beloved friend, Mehmetcik. Of course they both had to spend time at home with family and/or working, but there was always plenty of opportunity to play and adventure. Mehmetcik is a Christian and has long since been deported, with all the other non-Muslims, from his home in the former Anatolian town of Eskibahce, a fictional coastal village carved into a hillside in southwestern Turkey. The refugees were shipped to Greece, to live as strangers amongst strange people who called them Turks, in spite of their shared Greek Orthodox religion.They were transplanted to replace the Greek Muslims, who were transported from Greece to Eskibahce, which was part of the former Ottoman Empire but now belongs to Turkey. In the old days Christian, Muslim, Armenian and Jew lived together in Eskibahce, in relative harmony. Everyone spoke Turkish. Christians learned the Greek alphabet in order to read and write Turkish with Greek letters. Muslims learned to recite the first few lines of the Koran in Arabic, but otherwise remained illiterate. Mehmetcik taught his Muslim friend to read Turkish in Greek, making letters and words in the dirt with a stick, thus enabling him to become a scribe when his arm was crippled by a gun shot. Karatavuk and Mehmetcik are not the boys' real names. Karatavuk's real name is Abdul, Mehmetcik's is Nicos. Iskander the Potter made them terra cotta whistles in the shape of birds. These whistles are extremely special and unique. When half filled with water and blown, they sound like the bird they resemble. Abdul, Iskander's son, received the karatavuk, a completely black bird with a yellow beak which makes a "vuk, vuk, vuk sound in the oleander tree and sings to praise God in the evening." Thus Abdul, who whistled and flapped his arms much of the time, fancifully trying to make them function as wings, got his nickname. Nicos received a smaller but beautiful bird whistle also - the mehmetcik, "sometimes called kizilgerdan, and sometimes the fire-nightingale." He too became more than proficient in making the bird song. Iskander warned them both, " Man is a bird without wings, and a bird is a man without sorrow." Now Karatavuk remembers his old friend and happier days, so long ago. He writes his memories in a letter to Mehmetcik, which the man will never receive, even if he is still alive. No one knows where he is. Karatavak writes that he misses him, even now that his eyes have dimmed and he has grown old. He tells of people they cared for so much and who are long gone from Eskibahce, killed in wars, displaced to God knows where, murdered by ethnic cleansing: wealthy Aga Rustem Bey and his beautiful, mysterious Circassian mistress, Leyla Hanim, who was not Circassian at all; Abdulhamid Hodja, the local imam, who was friend and wise man to Muslim and Christian alike, and came to bless Philothei, a Christian, when she was born; Ayse, the imam's wife and a good woman, who once asked her Christian friend to light a candle before the icon of the Virgin - just in case; Father Kristoforos, who encouraged the Muslims to enter his church on holy days when the religious figures honored by both Christianity and Islam were celebrated. The priest also accepted "offerings from Muslims who were anxious to hedge their bets with God by backing both camels;" Veled the Fat who gave his camel cigarettes to smoke; Ali the Snowbringer and his family who lived in a hollow tree; the Dog; the Blasphemer; Ali the Broken-Nosed; Stamos the Birdman; Mohammad the Leech Gatherer; Charitos and Polyxeni, parents of Mehmetcik, and tragic Philothei the Beautiful; Drosoula the Ugly, best friend of Philothei; Sadettin who was forced to kill his sister and then ran away to be a bandit; and Ibrahim the Mad. He also remembers Firket from Pera, and other war comrades - all of them gone. He remembers when, as boys, they fancied themselves to be birds, and were happy even when they fell. He was a robin, Mehhetcik a blackbird. But in reality they were birds without wings. "For birds with wings nothing changes; they fly where they will and they know nothing about borders and their quarrels are very small...But men are confined to earth...and because we cannot fly, we are condemned to do things which do not agree with us. Because we have no wings, we are pushed into struggles and abominations we did not seek." Unlike his other novels, especially my favorite, "Corelli's Mandolin," the author introduces and sets in motion a huge cast of characters, who are restricted in their development as a consequence of their large number. They are remembered most for one or two salient characteristics, sometimes charming, occasionally comic, and, as time passes, more and more heartbreaking. Although this device works, and is effective in an epic tale of this proportion, I found something significant lacking here. I wanted to become more intimate with some of the personages - to find out more about them, their thoughts and dreams. This is impossible in "Bird's Without Wings," because as in real life, these figures are as grains of sand in the scheme of world events. "History," de Bernieres writes, "is finally nothing but a sorry edifice constructed from hacked flesh in the name of great ideas." This book is extremely powerful and pertinent now, given global current events, especially the last few years in the Balkans, Middle East, and former USSR. On the down side, although one cannot help but be caught up in de Bernieres' lyrical prose and a storyline packed with adventure, joy and so much sorrow - this novel is too long at 554 pages, 95 chapters, a six part Epilogue and a Postscript. Although I really found it difficult to put the novel down, it is nowhere as fluid or as accessible as "Corelli's Mandolin." Nor is the narrative as passionate. I do highly recommend "Birds Without Wings" as it still makes for excellent reading! "There is no greater sorrow on earth than the loss of one's native land." --Euripides-- JANA

This is an incredibly ambitious piece of writing. Louis de Bernieres' has amazing ability. The man combines wit and intelligence in a way that causes my run-of-the-mill head to spin. He handles the affairs of the heart deftly yet manages to spit out historical detail like a World Cultures professor on stimulants. His seemingly offhand knowledge of geography and the clash of religion are thrown into the mix, driving me to my computer to Google the history of Turkey (something I apparently never learned in school.) Usually this kind of mind-numbing detail will inspire me to close a book and ship it off to the nearest used book sale. But in this case, the clever wordplay kept me going. It was worth slogging through all the torturous history in the world JUST for the opportunity to read the skillfully crafted chapter about the demise of unfortunate King Alexander. In fact if you're not going to read the book, you still must read chapter 81. It stands alone. I'm totally serious. The author has equal success describing the innocent minds of wonderful nobodies and convincingly painting the powerful (but often clinically insane) people who define the fate of entire nations. This book has enough thought-provoking accuracy to engage the intellectual and enough delightfully articulate fluff for the rest of us. I'm glad I read it, but I'm truly exhausted by the effort. The stories told in this account will haunt me, probably forever. Despite my usual tenacious devotion to happy endings, cheesiness, sweetness and light (none of which can be found in this book) this writing demands a full five stars.

Je viens de relire ce livre que j'avais lu un peu vite la première fois car je voulais le finir. A la deuxième lecture j'en ai mieux apprécié le tour de force qu'il représente de présenter à la fois les événements historiques des conséquences du traité de Lausanne et le "vécu" des villageois dont la plupart ne rentre dans aucune des catégories que l'on voudrait leur appliquer. Les mots "grecs" ou "turcs" ont tellement de significations différentes à ce moment-là que le bouleversement qui s'opère est cataclysmique . L'auteur montre également comment la violence s'installe entre les communautés de façon terrifiante car on comprend quels peuvent être les griefs qui motivent ce réactions. Un livre qui ne s'oublie pas.

Magnífica historia para entender el desmembramiento del imperio otomano y la casi actual disposición de los Balcanes, también queda bien reflejado la variedad étnica y cultural y los posteriores ajustes para Turkia.

Commovente

Louis de Bernieres depicts the life of a small village, where both Christians and Muslims live side by side peacefully, until the war makes them suffer the hatred and cruelty, dividing families, lovers and friends. This is a heart-breaking novel, explaining the history and real events prior to, during and immediately after the 1. world war. This book reveals facts, which are not taught in any history class with such a deep feeling, logic and precisement, that the book and its thoughts just stick to one's mind and one cannot rid of them. One of the best book I have ever read, even though I must admit that sometimes the language is really tough to read and understand (when a mad person Ibrahim speaks, for instance). However, this makes the book even more interesting. MUST READ!

Louis de Berniere has long been a favorite and much-admired author, but I only recently discovered Birds Without Wings and downloaded it as an e book. What a fortunate and revelatory choice that would prove to be. I read it by myself, then my husband and I read it aloud to one another. I felt my mind ignited by its great sweep of research, so meticulously done into the unraveling of the Ottoman Empire, melded with the brilliant warp and weft of life in a small village. Embroidered with the most curious and engaging characters - and a command of the art of writing than can only be called masterful, the book draws the reader deeper, ever deeper into the blood, brutality and tender beauty of a lost age, a lost culture where Muslims and Christians, Armenians and others lived together in harmony. The territorial and political ambitions of the Great Powers, the rise of nationalism, the necrotising virus of fanatical religious movements insidiously ate away at the entire society. Yet even in the darkest hours and most scarifying passages of this wonderful story, there are threads of kindness, mutual respect, gentle nostalgia and blessedly benign humour shining through. This is a book, in the end, about how we are doomed to repeat mistakes and atrocities again and again, because we are birds without wings. Yet the impulse to fly remains within us, and our spirits, ever unconquerable, continue to rise to higher ideals and hopes of a better, more compassionate world. If you read only one book this year, make it this one. It should be on the curriculum of every higher education institution in the world