Saffron Yellow
154 pages
English

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154 pages
English

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Description

Have you lost your future?


This book features the intertwined stories of three main characters: a director of a financial company, an artifact thief, and a call girl. İnci Aral uses the stories of these three characters to discuss themes of love and modernity, showing people struggling with issues of success and failure, work and pleasure, and how to develop relationships. It raises such questions as how one can balance an uncertain future with a desire for success, how changing values impact our modern lives, and what the future holds.


Sujets

Informations

Publié par
Date de parution 26 juin 2016
Nombre de lectures 0
EAN13 9781783084500
Langue English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0032€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

SAFFRON YELLOW
Saffron Yellow
ANTHEM PRESS
An imprint of Wimbledon Publishing Company Limited (WPC)
First published in the United Kingdom in 2016 by
ANTHEM PRESS
75-76 Blackfriars Road
London SE1 8HA
www.anthempress.com
Original title: Safran Sarı
Copyright İnci Aral 2011
Copyright Kalem Agency 2011
Originally published by Kırmızı Kedi Publishing, Istanbul, Turkey
English translation copyright Melahat Behlil 2011
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.
The moral rights of the author have been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All the characters and events described in this novel are imaginary and any similarity with real people or events is purely coincidental.
A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978-1-78308-449-4
This title is also available as an ebook.
SAFFRON YELLOW
NCI A RAL
Translated by Melahat Behlil
About the Author
In New False Times , published in 1994, I had turned my perspective and literary interest to the experiences of my people and to their disorientation and disintegration due to loss of values. This was further developed in Purple , published in 2003, and Saffron Yellow was the third book completing the trilogy. When I started to write Saffron Yellow , I realized that as a writer who aims to be a witness of her times, impressions and feelings pertaining to years gone by form an essential integrity in many ways. That is why I renamed the first book Green and gave the trilogy the title NEW FALSE TIMES.
İnci Aral
The people and events in this novel are fictional and in no way related to those in real life.
Sometimes the vapour hovered as soon as it left the mouth, dense and heavy, and brought forth another scene, the smoke and smells that gathered over the roofs in the metropolises, the opaque smoke that did not disperse, the poisonous air that settled over the bituminous streets. It wasn t the floating mists of memory nor its dry transparency, but the charred remains of burned lives that covered the city like a scab, the sponge swollen with vital matter that no longer flowed, the congestion of the past, present, and future that froze existences calcified in the illusion of movement.
Italo Calvino
Invisible Cities
1
Autumn
H e had returned home from London that evening. It was late at night when he opened the suitcase he had brought home, assuming it was his own, and saw that it was someone else s. Although he went through the contents with the obsessive attention of a pervert, he wasn t able to find any sign or any clue to the identity of the owner.
The contents clearly showed that the suitcase belonged to a young woman. The plain clothes of good quality formed an attractive contrast with the seductive underwear. A pair of 38-size dark brown flannel trousers, two shirts, one white and one pink, a brand-g-string set of light lilac lace, two other similar sets, one black and one white, a few pairs of stockings, a gray and pink silk scarf, a belt, a tiny black skirt, a pair of classic black shoes with low heels - size 38 - in a plastic lined shoe bag. The length of the trousers indicated that the owner of the suitcase was about 1.70 m tall. The cosmetics in the small toilet case were expensive and of good quality, the silver jewelry in the velvet bag was beautiful. There were two thick gold rings which were exquisite: one embedded with a ruby and the other with an emerald.
When he set out the pieces of jewelry on his bed, he noticed that there were still some pieces jingling in the bag. As he emptied the bag on the bed cover, a handful of old coins fell out. Sixteen silver coins ...
Was this surprising? Volkan wasn t sure. However, he could guess that the rings and the coins were very valuable. One saw the likes of these articles only in museums, amongst ancient artifacts. A suitcase was certainly not ideal for carrying around objects such as these.
Nonetheless, it was also possible that they were fakes. But if they had historical value, they were - particularly the coins - pointing at a reverse voyage contrary to the customary route. Perhaps they had been taken out of the country to be sold and had been returned for some reason. They might also have been gone in a greater number and come back less. Whatever the reason, it was rather daring to keep them in a suitcase. On the other hand, a suitcase could be less conspicuous, more practical than hand luggage. Volkan had no experience in these matters.
He wondered about this absent-minded woman who couldn t keep track of her hidden treasure. What was she like?
He always kept an identification card with the company letterhead in the outer compartment of his suitcase as a precaution against such confusing situations. It would be better to wait a few days for the woman to call before making a loss claim to the airline. He couldn t decide. The suitcase could prove dangerous. There was no need to look for trouble, to put oneself in jeopardy.
He wondered if he were waiting at the threshold of a detective story about to be written. He was alone in his room in the office. Compared to the usual clatter, it was a calm afternoon. His tastefully decorated office which resembled a huge living room was on the fifth floor, carefully protected from the outside world. When he stood at the window, he could see the vehicles, the people, the bus stops, the junctions and the traffic lights far below, all making him dizzy. There were times when he panicked and wanted to descend to the street as soon as possible and mix with the crowd. But what he felt in this room was privilege and power. A virtual power far above the army of people moving about like ants down below!
He sank into his armchair. He looked at the screen in front of him showing the chart of the Cosmos Investment Holding s areas of activity. Financial transactions, consultancy for the stock exchange and multinational company funds, buying and selling and managing of assets and real estate on a large scale ... Mediation in the marketing of private and public real estate to be privatized ... Always and definitely a large profit ... Vulgar realities and villainous situations ...
An important sale was to be finalized the following day. The details had to be reviewed once again. Certain esteemed gentlemen were to be persuaded and the situation wrapped up safely, then it was to be discussed who would be bribed and how much, and documents would be signed mutually. This was Volkan s job. He had been doing the same thing in the name of someone else, continuously enlarging its scope over the past five years. He never thought about what he had done, he was always busy contemplating what he had to do. And this had made him bold and courageous.
When he was still new with the company, he would see himself as a wizard of mathematics after each successful transaction. Negotiating over reports and graphics, creating unforeseen advantages for the company and analyzing commission reports quickly were things he was good at. However, his biggest success lay in his warm, convincing attitude when dealing with people. The most important thing that brought quick success in this business was to look sympathetic and trustworthy, as well as having experience and a sharp mind. Even though nobody trusted one other, they felt that it was necessary to act so, and it went without saying that a person had to be sympathetic and experienced. Volkan believed that he had been born gifted. It was never a problem for him to listen to people with undivided attention and courtesy while keeping his patience and composure.
An air pump was droning somewhere close by, stopping and starting again. He got up, walked to the window and looked down. The weather was uncertain, it was raining slightly - a weak autumn drizzle. The tops of the trees in a garden on the other side of the road glistened in the rain. He looked at the building s front garden decorated with shrubs and natural rocks resembling statues. He felt dizzy. He tried to empty his mind, to fill it with the rain, the trees and the wind. But the noise of the air pump continued. They were digging the streets again.
He had slept very little the night before. More and more could he sleep only with the help of pills or alcohol? Sometimes, just as he was about to fall asleep, he would start with the feeling that he had stumbled and was about to fall down a horrible ravine or that it was imperative he should not fall asleep. A subject, a word or an event he had hardly dwelled upon during the day would come back as an important midnight ghost and occupy his mind. All details and indifferences became extremely important; anger, hate, all emotions were sharpened.
The same thing had happened, and as if taking advantage of an occasion for staying awake, he had spent the whole night thinking about what sort of a woman would be the owner of that titillating underwear and that fragrance which had settled on the clothes in the suitcase. Not being able to sleep, tossing about in bed in the dark room had clouded his mind and stupefied him totally.
He had stopped dreaming a long time ago. Sometimes while dozing off, he saw tiring negotiations, pretentious sentences, figures, complicated and bankrupt stock exchange boards. Hotel rooms without bathrooms, finding himself barefoot or naked in crowded avenues, infected splinters digging into his skin ... Always an effort, hastiness, an anxiety ... Once he had dreamt that his penis was electrified as he was about to have sex with a woman he didn t know; his instrument had given out sparks and ma

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