I have read this book now and find it very interesting. It is rather a challenging book that needs some serious reflection and ‘chewing’ upon. Even before beginning to read the actual book, but an undeniable part of it, confusion sets in with the dedication, preface and citation.
I would like to comment upon these things, before talking about the rest of the book.
White Castle includes a preface about the origin of the manuscript that was supposedly written by a fictional character from Mr. Pamuk's second novel 'the silent house', Faruk Darvinoglu. Unfortunately I didn’t read this particular book, so I can’t say what kind of person this is.
I read some of Pamuk’s books though, which I enjoyed very much (My name is Red, Snow, The museum of innocence, The innocence of objects).
To get back to the preface: this tale about finding a forgotten manuscript as a way to authenticate the story, it's historical importance, seems rather logical at first: found in a 'governor’s office (...)at the bottom of a dusty chest stuffed to overflowing with imperial decrees, title deeds, court registers and tax rolls'.(6) While reading this book it confuses matters as it becomes clear that this is not an historical novel at all, but a philosophical one, a book of ideas: this preface is meant to get the reader thinking about reality, appearances, identity.
The fictional Faruk makes clear that this book isn’t what is seems to be ‘when I consulted the basic sources for the period, I saw right away that some events described in the story bore little remblance to the fact’. In this aspect he is important for the reader as he tells us not to believe everything that follows.
The book is dedicated to the fictional sister of the fictional Faruk Darvinoglu. This is an interesting construction which piques further interest.’ Readers seeing the dedication at the beginning may ask if it has a personal significance. I suppose that to see everything as connected with everything else is the addiction of our time. It is because I too have succumbed to this disease that I publish this tale.’(9)
The citation at the beginning is a beautiful thought 'To imagine that a person who intrigues us has access to a way of life unknown and all the more attractive for its mystery, to believe that we will begin to live only through the love of that person – what else is this but the birth of great passion? Marcel Proust, from the mistranslation of Y.K. Karaosmanoğlu’.
This dedication gives me the feeling I am part of a great mystery somehow. I would have to research where it comes from, but perhaps I’d better leave the enchantment for what it is.