Alan Drew’s debut novel, Gardens of Water, is the kind of book you wish would be assigned in your English class just so you could have other people to talk about it with. If you read it, know that you’ll have to lend it to a friend for the sake of the discussion left bubbling inside you. Or come find me. We can talk.
Amid earthquakes and turmoil
Alan Drew’s debut novel, Gardens of Water, is the kind of book you wish would be assigned in your English class just so you could have other people to talk about it with. If you read it, know that you’ll have to lend it to a friend for the sake of the discussion left bubbling inside you. Or come find me. We can talk.
The novel tells the tale of Sinan, a Kurdish Muslim, who lives just outside Istanbul with his wife, 15-year-old daughter and 8-year-old son. An American couple with a 17-year-old son have recently moved into the apartment above theirs, and Sinan wants nothing to do with them.
Americans killed his father. He’s not vengeful, exactly; he just doesn’t trust Americans. What he doesn’t know is that his daughter and the American couple’s son, Dylan, have been speaking to each other through their windows–something they could never do in public.
Irem, the young girl, is modest and respectable. She covers her hair with a scarf and wears long sleeves and skirts so as not to temp any unruly (i.e., all) men into looking at her. And the American boy, well, he has tattoos. Nothing may have come of this flirtation, but a large-scale earthquake leaves the town in ruins and changes the lives of both families, setting them on a path of cultural clashes and tragedy.
Living in something similar to a refugee camp set up by Americans, everyday life becomes slightly less restrictive. Though she must still do the cooking and the dishes with her mother (duh, girls do the chores), Irem finds time to sneak away with the boy. Here’s where the trouble begins. Sinan wrestles with accepting help from the Americans and caring for his family. Irem wrestles with living in a culture where she must hide her beautiful hair and sacrifice the happiness of listening to Radiohead with a foreign teenage rebel. And everyone wrestles with how to interpret what God wants them to do.
At times the love story between Irem and the American feels like it has no basis. He says he wants her, but we’re not sure why. It’s not too hard to accept, though, knowing that the focus of the story is Irem. It’s clear why she is drawn to him: He gives her a freedom that her father doesn’t, a freedom that her life does not grant her and that she thinks she wants, despite strong ties to her family and tradition.
Through his characters, Drew explores the way opposing cultures and religions come in conflict with each other, specifically in the Middle East. He also takes a critical look at literal religious thinking. Neither Islam nor Christianity is portrayed as wrong or right. Drew simply exposes the way two rigidly devout men lead their lives?tolerant most days, but scared in a crisis, scared of how to secure a place in paradise. This fear that stems from a punishment-oriented practice of religion (do bad and there’s no way you’re getting into heaven) moves the men to do desperate things, which pushes their children, who are still young and figuring out what to believe, away from them.
The dichotomy of young and old, open and closed, hopeful and not is manifested in the relationship between Irem and her father, Sinan. The omniscient narration is set up to switch between the two, often replaying the same moment in time from a different character arc. This allows the reader to see where both characters are coming from and affirms that nothing is so black and white.
The story is realistic and sad, if not painfully thoughtful. The writing is practically unblemished. Drew demonstrates a perfect balance between indulgent writing and minimalism. He is descriptive without being overwrought, and lets the story unfold without the clutter of heavily stylized writing. He also uses the occasional Turkish word to remind ethnocentric readers that the characters don’t actually speak American English.
Far be it from me to suggest that this story is real. It is fiction, after all. I’ve never been to Turkey, so to assess the accuracy of the time and place is not possible, and perhaps not important. However, the writer’s credentials suggest that the novel does capture a certain amount of truth. Though Drew was born and raised in California (gasp!), he asserts his first-hand experience in the Middle East on the book’s back cover. Besides spending three years teaching at a school in Istanbul, his acknowledgments include a long list of historical and social texts about Turkey, Kurdish people and Islam. Most heartbreaking of all is the fact that Drew arrived in Turkey just a few days before a major 1999 earthquake, making the descriptions of devastation in the book all the more poignant.
Overall, Gardens of Water is an entirely impressive book from a first-time novelist. The characters are relatable and hateable, evoking very strong emotions from the reader. The novel also illuminates a culture that is often met with misconceptions and judgment in the United States, while also addressing the way Americans are perceived in the world. Gardens of Water does not denounce any religion or culture, but instead places a subtle value on tolerance and individual thought. Though the characters may break your heart a little, it is a book worthy of your consideration.
Gardens of Water**** (out of five)$25
See the author
Gardens of Water author Alan Drew will be at Powell’s City of Books on West Burnside Street tonight at 7:30 p.m. for a reading and signing.
