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zeynepokuyor's review against another edition
5.0
sait faik böyle karanlık kapkaranlık öyküleri böyle sade sade yazıyor ya tam o sırada dostoyevskisinden tut albert camusuna kadar yalnızım ben çok yalnızım sevme beni kızım nejat işler ıssız adamları hep bi HALT yiyor bayılıyorum o ana.
devam et abasına yandığım.
(en sevdiğim kitabı oldu sait iyi ki var her öyküsü bambaşka bi duygu durumu ve insan insan insan)
(ben sanırım artık türkçe konuşmuyorum sadece kelimeler ve ünlem ünlem ünlem)
devam et abasına yandığım.
(en sevdiğim kitabı oldu sait iyi ki var her öyküsü bambaşka bi duygu durumu ve insan insan insan)
(ben sanırım artık türkçe konuşmuyorum sadece kelimeler ve ünlem ünlem ünlem)
iin's review against another edition
lighthearted
reflective
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.5
aishayn's review against another edition
3.0
Sait Faik’in kitapları da öyküleri de “male gaze”in somutlaşmış hali gibi gerçekten.
sinelit's review against another edition
5.0
Sait Faik Abasıyanık Müzesi'ni gezdikten sonra ilk Sait Faik okuyuşum. Şansıma Papaz Efendi öyküsünün başında evinde -gidenler bilir- teras katındaki odanın o muazzam manzarasını anlatıyor. Daha birçok yerinde evine ve adaya dair ufak tefek izler var. Bilerek okumak çok ayrı bir keyifmiş. Bazen öyle oluyor ki, adada olduğum o güne, yaz sıcağına dönüyorum şu buz gibi kış günlerinde. Seviyoruz Sait Bey, nasıl yapalım?
lewismillholland's review against another edition
3.0
A life of coffeeshop and ferry rides and the occasional glass of beer sounds idyllic, especially when you pass your days chatting with fishermen or your dogs or lusting fruitlessly after Greek women. I've never been to Istanbul or its islands but the way Sait Faik casually explains life there makes me want to do the same for my home -- although, now that I'm back in the suburbs, that feels more difficult. Much of the population commutes every day and, now that we're under lockdown, it's unsafe to meet anyone.
I bought an English translation of this book at an independent publishers fair outside the main branch of the Brooklyn Public Library, by Prospect Park. My nerves were surprisingly shaky that day and I had to convince myself to walk past the booths, scanning the covers as I passed and quickening if any of the publisher employees seemed about to make eye contact, or worse, speak. Eventually I convinced myself this was silly behavior and started chatting to the woman at one booth until I felt obligated to buy something, and after the cover of this anthology caught my eye (unlike the GoodReads preview my copy is a milk chocolate brown with an abstracted, dancing man as the centerpiece). There were no plans that day and so I read the first few stories in the park and the next few at the Grand Canyon diner on Seventh Avenue. That may have been too many at once — Sait Faik's understated style is powerful in small doses, blurred in too high of a quantity.
Thus began nearly a year of on-and-off reading. The book sat on my desk at Bloomberg for several months, untouched, and has finally fulfilled its purpose here in Centreville, where I read the last two stories in my dad's Adirondack chair on the back porch. More than once a Sait Faik story has put me in a literary mood and spurred me to write, and for that, I'm grateful.
I bought an English translation of this book at an independent publishers fair outside the main branch of the Brooklyn Public Library, by Prospect Park. My nerves were surprisingly shaky that day and I had to convince myself to walk past the booths, scanning the covers as I passed and quickening if any of the publisher employees seemed about to make eye contact, or worse, speak. Eventually I convinced myself this was silly behavior and started chatting to the woman at one booth until I felt obligated to buy something, and after the cover of this anthology caught my eye (unlike the GoodReads preview my copy is a milk chocolate brown with an abstracted, dancing man as the centerpiece). There were no plans that day and so I read the first few stories in the park and the next few at the Grand Canyon diner on Seventh Avenue. That may have been too many at once — Sait Faik's understated style is powerful in small doses, blurred in too high of a quantity.
Thus began nearly a year of on-and-off reading. The book sat on my desk at Bloomberg for several months, untouched, and has finally fulfilled its purpose here in Centreville, where I read the last two stories in my dad's Adirondack chair on the back porch. More than once a Sait Faik story has put me in a literary mood and spurred me to write, and for that, I'm grateful.
samranakhtar's review
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
medium-paced
3.25
The earlier ten or twelve stories are so well-written and focus on the nuances of every day life. However, I wasn't too fond of the rest of the stories as some of them were just musings or a spoken thought. Sait Abadiyanik writes as he speaks, which often gets a bit redundant. There are some stories that really stood out to me.
The Silk Handkerchief
The Hairspring
A Useless Man
The Samovar
The Barges
The Bocha
Papaz Efendi
The Little Coffeehouse
Milk
Fire Tongs and a Chair on a Writers Night
I wouldn't compare him entirely to Chekhov but I can see the resemblance.
The Silk Handkerchief
The Hairspring
A Useless Man
The Samovar
The Barges
The Bocha
Papaz Efendi
The Little Coffeehouse
Milk
Fire Tongs and a Chair on a Writers Night
I wouldn't compare him entirely to Chekhov but I can see the resemblance.
eol's review
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
2.25