I AM MY COUNTRY

Turkish American writer Orhan delivers somber, sometimes surrealistic portraits of life in Turkey in this debut story collection.

A slender sanitation worker is sent into an alley that her heftier male counterparts can’t negotiate. There she finds evidence of one draconian government decree after another: discarded books, sheet music, a violin and cello, because “the city’s orchestras and philharmonics had been ordered to compose and perform with uniquely Turkish instruments.” Soon it’s living musicians who are being scrapped, and rescuing them comes at the price of a harsh sentence in a prison where no one—guards, inmates, bureaucrats—is free. Freedom is always a desideratum, especially under the most strangely oppressive conditions, as when a Turkish army unit is dispatched to the Kurdish borderlands with orders to kill all the mules. “We’re not in Syria, at least,” says their sergeant, but they most certainly are in a place where a soldier from one ethnic group is always ready to kill a soldier from another, even if they fight under the same flag. Mules, villagers, soldiers alike suffer; says the narrator, “The mules are looking at us, saying: Don’t kill us, don’t shoot us. And we are saying back: Don’t move so much, just die easy, OK?” When people aren’t dying of bullets and fire, they’re dying of spiritual suffocation, and sometimes literal suffocation as well, as when Orhan has the real-world dictator Erdoğan descend on a village suffering a mining disaster to dispense pabulum: “He tells us that mining accidents are typical, they are to be expected.” Orhan’s incisive and often improbable stories are more than parables, though there’s plenty of allusion and allegory tucked into the prose; they’d surely earn him jail time at home. But, one elegiac story tells us, being in relative freedom in exile (in, of all places, Kansas) takes a toll as well, with one’s native language “having become functionless through the course of evolution.”

Deliberately paced, provocative stories that play on the many faces of fear and trembling.