Tuesday, October 22, 2019

Archaeology in Turkey: The American Contribution (Part 1)








·        Illustrations are taken from the internet, unless otherwise noted.

·        For an earlier publication on this subject, see:  Charles Gates, "American Archaeologists in Turkey: Intellectual and Social Dimensions," Journal of the American Studies Association of Turkey 4 (1996):  47-68.





Let me start with an anniversary.  Fifty years ago this summer, I first set foot in Turkey.  I had just finished my sophomore year, my second year in college; I had changed my major to Archaeology; and I was in Beirut, enrolled in the summer school at the American University of Beirut.  Mid-summer, I flew to Istanbul for one week, to see what it was like. I had never before met a Turkish person, as far as I know; I couldn’t say “evet” or “hayır;” and I stayed in a dreadful hotel in Eminönü – I remember having to prop up the window with a book -- but I had a wonderful week, nonetheless.  I could never have imagined, though, that Turkey would one day become my home, and that I would take my place in a long line of Americans active in archaeological research in this country.

(Photo: author)


It is about these American archaeologists that I would like to speak this evening.  Who were they?   Why did they come here?  What did they accomplish?  I can’t mention each and every name, but I would like to give a sampling, to show the diverse interests and approaches American scholars have had, and to identify some notable contributions that American archaeologists have made to the study of the ancient cultures of this country.

I should state here that I will concentrate on work done within the borders of today’s Turkish Republic, with only passing reference to research in adjacent areas once held by the Ottoman Empire. 



American archaeologists in Turkey before World War I 



The first American project was at Assos, in northwestern Turkey.  From 1881 to 1883, Architects Joseph Clarke and Francis Bacon conducted excavations here, on behalf of the Archaeological Institute of America.  1881 – a date easy for us to remember, because that’s the year Atatürk was born.  The photographer for the expedition was John Henry Haynes, whose important career in Anatolia, and Mesopotamia, long forgotten, has been rediscovered in recent years by Robert Ousterhout. 



For a first foray into Classical archaeology, Assos seems a surprising choice.  It was a remote town that figured little in ancient history.  But the interest of Clarke and Bacon was Greek architecture, and Assos contains an early and unusual temple of Athena, ca. 540-520 BC, spectacularly located on a hilltop overlooking the Aegean and the island of Lesbos/Mitilini.  In a region dominated by the Ionic order of Greek architecture, this temple is a surprise: it’s built in the Doric order; it has sculpted metopes, also a Doric trait; but it also has a frieze above the columns, which is relief sculpture in the Ionic manner.  The finds from these years are divided between the Boston Museum of Fine Arts, the Istanbul Archaeological Museum, and the Louvre.  



The intellectual background

 Why this choice?  And why explore ancient remains at all?  To answer these questions, let’s have a look at the larger intellectual background of the 19th century. 



Scientific archaeology began in Turkey in the second half of the 19th century under the influence of European scholarship.  Coloring this was a long-standing interest in the ancient Greeks and Romans.  Classical culture had been known throughout the Middle Ages, of course, with Latin as the liturgical language of Western Christianity and as the common language of educated people.  From the Renaissance on, Roman and indeed all Classical culture continued to be valued for its moral and political authority.  As a result, Latin especially, but also Greek were widely studied, even in Protestant areas, well into the 20th century. 

In addition to the long-standing interest in ancient literature, chance finds of Roman sculpture during the Italian Renaissance contributed to the growing fascination with the material remains of antiquity.  One thinks especially of “Laocoon and his sons,” the dramatic Hellenistic-Roman statue group discovered in Rome in 1506.  Collections of Classical objects were formed; and at Pompeii, organized explorations began in 1748 and have continued to the present day.  



The influence of Greek texts reminds us of Heinrich Schliemann, a rich German businessman, who, fascinated by the ancient stories of the Trojan War, set out to prove their veracity.  Led to the site of Hisarlık by Frank Calvert, a member of an expatriate British business family in Çanakkale, Schliemann began excavations there in 1871 and achieved spectacular results.  I wonder, can we claim him as an American archaeologist?  He had obtained US citizenship by this point, and Calvert did serve as an honorary US consul.  But this might be a bit of a stretch.



Back to our larger picture.  The Ottoman Empire controlled lands once key provinces of ancient Greek and Roman civilization.  Because of restrictions and rigors of travel, visitors from Western Europe were few before the later 18th century.  When European travellers did make the trip and report on their findings, the impact was tremendous.  Italy was long familiar to westerners, but now the specifically Greek component of the Classical world was being revealed.

In the 19th century, European travellers continued to describe ancient sites in Anatolia, and make drawings of the monuments.  In addition, they often took objects away, actual examples of Classical art, whether or not official permits were granted.  Ottoman authorities had paid scant attention to such activities.  This is not surprising, for the Latin and Greek languages and Classical cultures naturally enough did not feature in the Islamic-oriented education of Ottoman officials or resonate in their daily lives.  Only with the quickening of interest in European culture from the 1850s on did the Ottoman intelligentsia develop along with Europeans a curiosity toward the antiquities of their lands.



Sultan Abdulmejid and his son-in-law Fethi Ahmet Pasha began a collection of antiquities in 1845, the basis for the Archaeological Museum of Istanbul.  With the appointment in 1881 – again, our fateful year of 1881 -- of Osman Hamdi Bey as director, the museum moved into a new era of expansion and activity, culminating in the opening of the present museum building in 1891.  Laws regulating archaeological activities were issued first in 1874, then revised in 1884. This last set, which included a prohibition on the export of antiquities, continued in effect with minor revisions until 1973.



To return to the exploration of Assos:  What was the immediate American context for these excavations?  In the United States, the institutional framework for the study of archaeology, Classical and other, was being put into place at this very time.  The Archeological Institute of America was founded in 1879.  Although its interests were global, the Mediterranean basin would eventually become its focus.  The two major research centers for Classical Studies were soon to come: The American School of Classical Studies at Athens (founded in 1881) and the “American School of Classical Studies” in Rome, in 1895, eventually to become the American Academy in Rome.

Note that Istanbul, although a major historical center in the larger southeastern European region, was not yet an important center for research into Classical or any other branch of antiquity.

Other Old World civilizations well represented within the territory of the Ottoman Empire were also much studied, by Americans as well as others. Texts were always the key, just as Greek and Latin texts had fueled interest in Classical cultures.  The Bible stimulated archaeological exploration in Palestine.  Indeed, in 1899, the AIA founded the American School of Oriental Study and Research in Palestine, eventually to become the American Schools of Oriental Research (ASOR).  In Iraq and Syria, the decipherment, in the mid to late 19th century, of Akkadian and Sumerian allowed a deeper understanding of Mesopotamian cultures.  Although the the rediscovery of the Hittites grew out of an interest in the Biblical world and the Ancient Near East, French and then German explorations at Boğazköy/ Hattusa, the Hittite capital, were given new impetus by the decipherment of the Hittite language in the early 20th century.  And in Egypt, whose ancient writing system was deciphered in the early 19th century, the study of texts and well-preserved architecture and art was well advanced by World War I.  Each of these areas would become a specialized field of study.



After Assos, the next American project in today’s Turkey was at Sardis, where Howard Crosby Butler of Princeton University, directed excavations from 1910-1914, at the invitation of Osman Hamdi Bey.   Butler, an architectural historian, had already investigated Late Roman sites in Syria.  Although Sardis was a major city in the Roman Empire, its earlier history was well known from Herodotus and other ancient writers.  During the Iron Age Sardis was the capital of the Lydian kingdom.  The Lydians were a native Anatolian people, even if much influenced by their Greek neighbors and subjects.  Butler’s aim was to get information about the contribution of such non-Greek Near Eastern peoples to Classical art and architecture.  But as it so happened, his work focused on exposing the huge Hellenistic-Roman Temple of Artemis, as well as over 1000 tombs in nearby cliffs.  The project was stopped by the outbreak of World War I.  Butler returned briefly in 1922, but died later that year.  American research at Sardis would not resume until 1958.



Between the two World Wars



After World War I, new excavations on Greco-Roman sites were begun by American teams: short-lived projects at Colophon, in the Aegean coastal territory briefly occupied by Greece, and at Pisidian Antioch, near Yalvaç; and a major campaign in the 1930s at Antioch-on-the-Orontes (today’s Antakya), then in the French-occupied Sanjak of Alexandretta, under the sponsorship of Princeton University.  



The aim of this last project was to reveal the city of Antioch, one of the four great cities of the Roman Empire, from Hellenistic to medieval times.  This goal was believed possible because in the 1930s, ancient Antioch was overlain by only a small modern city – unlike Rome or Constantinople/Istanbul.  It quickly became clear that very deep silt deposits from the Orontes River concealed the ancient city.  Quick and satisfying results were thus difficult to obtain. In the end, after the villas of suburban Daphne began yielding one fine mosaic after another, the excavators made a virtue of necessity and, giving up on the vast deep soundings, concentrated on the mosaics.  Some of these spectacular mosaics are on display in the Antakya Archaeological Museum, in the Louvre, and, in the United States, in museums at Princeton, Baltimore, and Worcester, MA. 



The inter-war period was particularly notable, though, for the American entry into the prehistoric and pre-Classical field.  



At Troy, Carl Blegen of the University of Cincinnati, taking a break from his prolific research in Greece, excavated from 1932 to 1938, supplementing the earlier findings of Schliemann and his assistant and successor, Wilhelm Dörpfeld.  The Library at the American School of Classical Studies at Athens and one of the main libraries at the University of Cincinnati are named in his honor. 



The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago was founded in 1919 – yes, this great research center is celebrating its centennial this year – founded by the Egyptologist James Breasted with financing from John D. Rockefeller, Jr., to promote research into the cultures of the Ancient Near East and Egypt.  The Institute sponsored teams that conducted important surveys in central Anatolia and excavations at Alişar Höyük (near Yozgat) under the direction of a German archaeologist and adventurer, Hans Henning von der Osten, and in the Amuq Plain, northeast of Antakya, by Robert Braidwood.  



In 1935, Hetty Goldman, soon to be appointed professor at the Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton, began excavations at Gözlü Kule, the prehistoric settlement at Tarsus.  The results proved seminal for the understanding of Bronze and Iron Age cultures in Anatolia.  Goldman, first at Colophon in 1922, then at Tarsus, was the first American woman to direct an archaeological excavation in Turkey.  Much credit must to to Bryn Mawr, Goldman’s alma mater, the small but distinguished women’s college whose perennially strong programs in Classical and Near Eastern Archaeology have encouraged many to enter the field.   The Tarsus excavations were carried out from 1935 to 1938, with two post-war seasons in 1947 and 1948.  As we shall see, those post-war seasons included staff members who would go on to direct their own excavation projects in the 1950s and beyond. 





By 1939, German archaeological research in Turkey was active and influential.  In 1929, the German Archaeological Institute had established a center in Istanbul to further its research projects.  The large projects at Pergamon, Miletos, and Boğazköy/Hattusha – to which we might add (in the German-speaking world) the Austrian excavations at Ephesus, which began in 1895 -- had already uncovered much and published well.  In addition, Istanbul and Ankara Universities were organized on German models.  



The relation with Germany had another dimension as well, one that would affect the United States.  In 1933, the Nazi regime expelled Jewish academics.  Many of these scholars, together with non-Jewish dissidents, would be welcomed in Turkey and given university appointments in Istanbul and Ankara.  Among them was Hittitologist Hans Güterbock, who joined the staff of Ankara University.  Like many, he began by lecturing in German with translation into Turkish, but eventually was able to give the lectures himself in Turkish.  After the war, this community dispersed, some leaving voluntarily, others the victims of a nationalist reaction in 1948 that led to the dismissal of these foreign professors.  Several eventually found positions in the United States.  Güterbock, for example, after a short stint in Sweden, was hired by the Oriental Institute.  He would eventually serve as ARIT president from 1969 to 1977, and remained a dedicated board member for many years beyond.


Friday, August 9, 2019

From Istanbul to Samothrace (via Alexandroupolis)


       Summer school has ended and a major Muslim holiday, the Feast of the Sacrifice (Kurban Bayramı), four days long, is about to begin.  The campus is quickly emptying.  Students have gone; staff is going.  Professors and their families, resident on campus, are away, too.  Of course it’s mid-August, the height of the holiday season.  The urge To Go Somewhere is strong!  But why leave Ankara, where the weather has been sunny, clear, and dry, with day time temperatures in the mid-80s F (30 C), night time temperatures as low as 60 F (15 C)?  The beaches –Mediterranean and Aegean coasts – are crowded, the heat and humidity high.  Air conditioning is a must. 
        I can defend a “staycation” in Ankara because we have already had our Aegean holiday.  In early July, we spent a week in northeast Greece, followed by four days near Assos / Behramkale, in northeast Turkey.  The archaeological sites, museums, modern towns, and scenery were wonderful.  And we were able to go swimming several times!
        We took a high speed train to Istanbul: 4+ hours to the Asian shore, then transferred to a local train to go under the Bosporus. From Sirkeci Train Station, we caught the tramway up the hill to the Sultanahmet stop. 

      Istanbul crowds are always huge but despite our suitcases we managed. 
     After finding our hotel, downhill from the Sultan Ahmet Mosque (Blue Mosque), we walked through the narrow streets to the seashore, passing old houses, some reconverted into small hotels, restaurants, some chic some not, simple markets, children playing ball, people sitting and chatting.  On the other side of the busy coast road, on the boulder-lined shore men were fishing or swimming or sunning themselves.  

        For dinner we went to an Indian restaurant, Dubb, adored by two Bilkent friends, one vegetarian, one not. We were seated on a lower floor and so didn’t profit from the great view that our friends love, but that was OK, the food was excellent.
        The next day we left for Greece by bus, departing from the giant Esenler bus station that lies beyond the medieval city walls.  The bus, which goes from Istanbul to Thessaloniki, is run jointly by Kamil Koç, a large Turkish bus company, and Crazy Holidays, a Greek firm.  It left at 10:00 am and, after a brief rest stop and one hour spent crossing first the Turkish, then the Greek border posts, dropped us off in Alexandroupolis (Dedeağaç, in Turkish), on the other side of the border, at 3:30 pm.  The bus was very comfortable and the ride was a pleasure.  I particularly enjoyed the views of the Marmara Sea and the brilliant green rice paddies along the Turkish side of the Meriç (Evros) River, which forms the boundary between the two countries.  
Most of our fellow passengers were Turks of Greek nationality, living in the cities of Komotini or Xanthi (Gömülcine and İskeçe, in Turkish).  In 1923, the Muslims of that region, Western Thrace, were not subjected to the exchange of populations between Turkey and Greece (Orthodox people moved from Turkey to Greece, Muslims from Greece to Turkey), a counterbalance to the Orthodox allowed to remain in Istanbul and on the islands of Gökçeada (Imbros, in Greek) and Bozcaada (Tenedos). Most of the Greeks of Istanbul have since left, but the Turks of Western Thrace still remain in goodly numbers.  In Greece they are officially identified as members of the country’s Muslim minority, not as Turks (even if most are Turkish-speaking).
        In Alexandroupolis we stayed at a very nice, new boutique hotel, installed in an older building that once served as the French Consulate. We met our two friends coming from Athens, and strolled to the waterfront, where there is a long, broad avenue lined with cafés, in the late afternoon all full with people of all ages.  I had my first frappé of the trip = iced nescafé, which has become the Greek national summer beverage.  I like it with milk, but without sugar. 
        Offshore looms an imposing mountain.  This is the island of Samothrace, where we were heading the next day.  

Marie-Henriette and I got up really early to be at the ticket office at 7:00 am when it opened, because our friends had experienced a long line the previous afternoon.  We didn’t have to wait long, though, and so were able to return downtown for a leisurely breakfast at a café that featured Illy coffee.  A local specialty is bougatsa, a breakfast treat of flaky pastry filled with cheese (salty white) or cream (with semolina and sugar), dusted with powdered sugar and cinnamon.  We had one of each, plus cappuccinos.  They were delicious.  

Bougatsa is surely the same word as Turkish poğaça (pronounced “po-ah-cha”) -- not to mention Italian focaccia -- but the two are entirely different.  A poğaça is an oval-shaped savory breakfast roll, typically filled with a small amount of white cheese.  A glass of tea (the Turkish national drink) + a poğaça make a tasty breakfast if you are in a Turkish café and in something of a hurry.
        The ferry left at 9:00 am.  At 11:30 am, we arrived at Kamariotissa, the small port of Samothrace.  

Because the mountain is essentially the island, the population of the island is small.  Because there are almost no sand beaches, tourism has not overwhelmed the place.  Nonetheless, we were part of a goodly number of tourists, especially Bulgarians and Romanians, for whom Western Thrace is easy to reach. 
        I had arranged beforehand for a car rental; our friend Bob had telephoned to confirm.  I hadn’t had to give credit card details, though.  We found the place, with a line of motorbikes out in front.  

“How much did you agree to pay?” I was asked.  I remembered, and quoted the price. I got out my credit card.
     "Cash only!"
     Fortunately I had enough. 
     “Your license?”  I showed my Turkish license.  He filled out the rental form, with only my first two names (misspelled) and “Turkey” for the driver’s license, the model & license plate of the car, and the price.  Gas?  Bring it back at the same level (3/8 full).  Insurance?  In the hands of the gods.  That was it, and we were off. 
For lunch, we drove up from Kamariotissa to Chora, the main town of the island.  Located inland and up, the town can barely be seen from the sea – good protection against marauders over the centuries.  

Houses are of stone, the streets narrow, and the main square, pretty small, had a fine restaurant.  I saw for the first time in my life a car with a license plate from San Marino. 

        Our hotel was not far off, an low-key attractive place by the seashore.  The beach was rocky, but we had our special shoes for rocky beaches and so went swimming without agony.  

The water was delightful, clear and cool here in the north Aegean, and the hotel had a nice set-up with chaises longues and umbrellas and a bar.  I had another frappé. 
        The next day we visited the Sanctuary of the Great Gods – the main reason why an archaeologist would visit Samothrace.  

Here, in this religious center favored by the Macedonian royal family of the 4th century BC, Philip II, his son Alexander the Great, and their generals who set up kingdoms after Alexander’s death, New York University has been conducting excavations since just before World War II.  

Even before NYU, in 1863 Charles Champoiseau, the French consul in Adrianople (today’s Edirne), discovered here the Winged Victory (= Nike), one of the most famous of Hellenistic Greek statues. 

The island then belonged to the Ottoman Empire, but somehow the statue made its way to Paris, where it is dramatically displayed in the Louvre. 
        The sanctuary is beautifully set alongside ravines on the lower slope of the mountain.  

Trees are everywhere.  The ruined buildings stand on many different levels, so this is one of those 3-D sites that you really have to visit in order to appreciate the layout.  

It’s clear that in ancient times, taking part in the mystery cults featured here would have been an overwhelming experience.  
Excavations (surveying) in progress
An on-site museum is being restored, its roof having suffered severe rain damage some years before.
Having driven on the west side of the island the day before, until the road came to an end, we decided to do the same on the east side. We stopped for lunch in a small town developed around thermal springs.  I had black-eyed peas, the others chickpeas or salads; we passed up the goat offerings, even though we knew they were island specialties.
Again, the Sanctuary of the Great Gods 
The road eventually ended in some massive cliffs.  So back we turned, to Kamariotissa and the funny car rental place and the evening ferry to Alexandroupolis. 


Tuesday, April 30, 2019

Stamps, construction, airports, birds, Noontime in central Ankara




Today is the last day of April and I am emerging from blog hibernation. Happy New Year 2019!  It’s spring in Ankara, warm, sunny, with fruit trees in their final flowering and other trees bursting forth in leaves.  Wildflowers are appearing.


What has been going on here?  Miscellaneous things to report:


My younger daughter, here for the Christmas-New Year’s holidays, persuaded me to join her on a visit to the Stamp Museum.  She was on the outlook for commemorative stamps for a friend’s stamp collecting father.  


I must admit I was skeptical.  A stamp museum?  How could that be interesting?  

Then I became curious.  What would a stamp museum be like?  How would such a museum be organized?  What would be displayed?


So we went to the museum on a cold, overcast January 2nd, taking a dolmuş (shared minibus) to Denizciler, the last stop of our line from Bilkent University, and walking past a grandiose newly built mosque (in the style of 16th c. Ottoman imperial mosques, the style preferred today when grandiose is wanted) to the museum, located on Atatürk Boulevard, not far from Ulus, in a former bank building built in 1934.  


The exhibits turned out to be wonderful. Stamps from the late Ottoman period right to the present are displayed in easy-to-see fashion, tiny pictures that give a comprehensive picture of Turkish history and culture. A selection of foreign stamps are exhibited, too.


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Construction has been big.  A recent dolmuş ride took me on a circuit of the gigantic medical district recently built near us, off the Eskişehir Road behind the large Ahmet Hamdi Akseki Mosque. The complex is huge. To the surprise of the passengers, the dolmuş literally did a complete circle through the area before eventually turning onto another road. There weren’t many people in evidence; construction must have been only recently finished. Eventually the crowds will be enormous.  The road system in and around the complex is already surrealistically complicated. 


Next to our lojman a triple-size apartment building is going up.  We have watched the construction with fascination, from the preparation of the foundations to the rising of walls (three stories) and installing the wooden framework for the (tiled) roof.  A large crane was active for months, swooping this way and that in order to lift and deposit metal rods and  loads of blocks. From time to time a cement mixer with a conduit that resembled a giant praying mantis delivered cement into wooden moulds. The crane is now partly dismantled. Next will be the finishing of walls, and then, of course, the interior architecture and fittings.  According to rumor, these apartments will be for graduate students with families. 

Beyond Bilkent’s East Campus, six apartment towers under construction mar the landscape. One is still being worked on, but five have been abandoned, unfinished eyesores: tall cement skeletons on the hillside, victims of the economic problems that the country is experiencing.

* * * * * * * * * 

I cannot leave the topic of construction without mentioning the new Istanbul airport located by the Black Sea on the European side of the city. Officially opened last October 29, Republic Day, this airport really got going on April 6 when Turkish Airlines transferred its commercial passenger operations there from the Atatürk airport.  


We were returning by plane from Istanbul midday on Friday, April 5, and so were among the last passengers to fly out from Atatürk, formerly Yeşilköy airport, the location of Istanbul’s main civil airfield since 1912.  Tickets for the final evening flight were going for high prices.  I can’t say I regret this airport, which always seemed overcrowded and unpleasant, but reports from those who have recently gone through the new, giant airport aren’t too encouraging. Distances are huge, I hear -- roller blades needed! -- and it’s understaffed.  The kinks will eventually be ironed out, I’m sure. In the meantime, if possible, I will use the Sabiha Gökçen airport, on the Asian side.

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From planes, on to birds.  Ramazan, my barber, now has two cages of canaries, a charming addition to the barbershop.  I remember the Ankara Museum of Anatolian Civilizations in the 1970s under the directorship of Raci Temizer. Raci Bey loved canaries, and had several cages installed in the tea / refreshment area.  It was always a pleasure to see them. 

Not so nice: pigeons have taken a liking to the edge of the terrace in front of my office.  The railing is covered with ... you can guess.  My terrace has not (yet) become a favorite meeting place for pigeons, just one option among the many rest stops on the campus.  May it stay that way!
(I don't know where this is, but it makes the point.)



Our daughter has passed on to us the link to a webcam planted in a box used as a nest by barred owls.   https://www.wbu.com/owl-cam/  This is not in Turkey but in Indiana.  We are watching two young owls, who hatched in April, growing bigger and bigger, and their mother, who brings live food (small animals) and who grooms them.  Truly fascinating; not to be missed. 


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Let me end with a book recommendation.  Sevgi Soysal, Noontime in Yenişehir, was first published in Turkish in 1973 (Yenişehir’de Bir Öğle Vakti). I have just read the excellent translation by Amy Spangler (2016). 

The novel recounts the lives of a variety of people in Ankara in the 1970s, using as a narrative device the interlocking of stories: we follow one person, who, at the end of a chapter, crosses someone else – on we move to that person’s story, and so on.  The characters are lively and passionate, and come from all walks of life: shopkeepers, upper middle class, academia, lower class. Soysal is pretty  pessimistic about relations between people.  The characters are not particularly likeable, with the one exception of Ali, an idealist from a modest background, now studying law.  Apart from Ali, everyone is exploiting someone else or being exploited, or disfunctional.  No one is happy or content; not that the characters are necessarily unhappy, although a few are, but they are conditioned by society to behave in ways that ensure their personal well-being, advance their careers, or simply secure their survival. If others are stomped on in the process, too bad for them.

The arrangement of the stories is intriguing.  After the long central section about a Doğan and  Olcay (a brother and sister from a privileged family), and Ali, the final chapters focus on people at the bottom of the social ladder: a gypsy shoeshiner, a prostitute, and a building superintendant whose personalities and life stories give a gritty, somber ending to the novel.  The final sentence is perfect.

Since I live in Ankara, I was happy to read a novel set here. I should say, though, that even though I knew the places mentioned and so could picture where the action happened, descriptions of the city are not a key element of the novel. The writing, at least in Spangler’s translation, is colloquial and rings true for this American reader. The only thing that dates the book is the lack of any reference to Islam.  In today’s Turkey, that would be expected from as keen an observer of the social scene as Soysal.